The Dark Edge Chronicles - Hardwire

Chapter 36: A Dark Discovery

"It was as if my hands, legs and arms were guided in the motions they needed to go through in order to use the weapons you gave me." He paused to shovel in another mouthful of beans with the edge of his bread before leaning back to chew thoughtfully, speaking when his mouth was clear enough to do so without spraying the good father with half-chewed beans.

"Yet my training mentioned nothing of the Quaydrim." An eyebrow slowly rose. "In fact, my training was barely enough to teach me how to raise a blade! I'm surprised that, with my rudimentary knowledge, that I actually lived long enough after encountering Vestrun to make it back to the order's camp."

Again he paused to push more beans onto the bread before lifting it to his mouth to methodically take them in.

"Why was I not told about the crystals and what they could do before now, Father?" he softly asked around the mouthful of bread and beans. "I think the hope of them might have saved not only my pain and suffering, but the lives of my fellow knight-protectors!"

"Perhaps," Brin conceded, his smile fading slightly. "But, unlike days of yore when the order's resources were virtually unlimited, we neither had the ability nor the time to teach you and your comrades about the mystical crystals. Nor could we fully educate you in the ways of the knight-protectors! Our last phalanx of trained knights were taken in ambush not but three weeks ago, slaughtering any with experience enough to face the Reavers in this farcical tournament. Instead of giving you and your fellows proper training, we were forced to pluck you from the fields surrounding the order's borderlands headquarters, thrust a sword into each of your hands and send you to Jorik's tournament, ill prepared. Only that way could we hope to face the Reavers without complete and utter shame."

The smile returned briefly.

"And, outside our shame, we were forced by our very vows to protect the borderlands against the Reaver threat. So the order did come, hoping against hope that one or more of you would show the god fire, our only hope of victory. Which, thank the Maker, you have."

"You pitted the entire order and our lives against a hope as tenuous as that?" Mordecai abruptly hissed, his meal temporarily forgotten as he stared hard at the worn-looking priest. "The Council took an awful risk! If I had failed to realize the god fire, I would've died and you all would've been summarily slaughtered by the Reavers with Jorik looking on in glee!"

"Not as great a risk as you may think, Sir Caiphus," Brin pointed out, his smile growing slightly. "You see, each of you were tested by a healer adept at finding the potential of the god fire in the mind. We sent those that scored the highest in that potential. And, of all your brothers and sisters, you, Sir Caiphus, scored the highest to actually realize the god fire. Which, once again praise be to the Maker, you did. The god fire and the Quaydrim themselves finished the rest of your knight's training, instinctively giving you the skills and abilities you needed to defend yourself on the field of battle."

Mordecai nodded at that as he resumed chewing. Indeed the god fire and the crystals seemed to imbue his very muscles and nerves with what they needed to know to fight, and effectively against the Reavers. He swallowed carefully.

"I concede that the rest of my training took place out on the field of battle, Father. But how? How did the crystals and the god fire know to give me the skills that I needed? Do they possess an intelligence of their own?"

Brin laughed softly.

"So full of questions, Sir Caiphus! Very understandable, however, considering what you've gone through today. I will try to give you what answers I know."

Nodding with satisfaction, Mordecai sat back and worked on completing his meal as quickly and methodically as possible as the priest went on, speaking in what could only be described as a lecturing tone. By the sounds of it, Brin had done a little teaching of his own, perhaps even within the order. Which could be interpreted as the old priest being an expert of sorts on some sort of topic. Perhaps on the Quaydrim. If only he could give Mordecai what he wanted to know, it would be perfect!