Chapter 31: Apple Stick
It was evening when Il Rabidos finally arrived back in the mountain camp.
Sarin was sat cross-legged against the thick Oak tree, his eyes shut.
Each of the brothers carried the gifts of Fumph’s armoury. Firstly, they were equipped with bow and a quiver of arrows. The bow was not like the long bows they had grown up with but much shorter, around three- foot in length. They were curved in a manner which gave the appearance of an intricately drawn letter W. The bows were called Dakkens, Fumph had told the brothers it was an old Faerie terms for a hurricane.
The brothers instantly adored them. As well as exquisitely carved with images and symbols Elven in nature, they were extremely powerful. The moon pool had gifted the brothers an enhanced strength, more so at night and they had been practicing or some might argue playing with their bows all the way back to camp.
They had been required to trade their Claymores as part of Fumph’s deal in order to be replaced with the new Valdirian Sabres which roughly translated as Earth sword. Fumph had explained that the metal was forged in unison with the song of Valdir and when used correctly in unison with mind and body could deliver unstoppable blows capable of cutting through more or less anything.
The sabres themselves were much like the ancient Japanese katanas, a few examples of which were still to be found in the Clans towns and villages. The only main difference was the handle of the Sabre extended below the grip into a curved dagger, thus giving an extra element of surprise.
In a similar vein were their actual daggers. Fumph called them River Steels. The reason behind the name was due to the unique mineral contents forged into the blades, minerals panned from certain rivers and streams found only in the Abor.
Finally, was the Valdirian Fire Swo. These were a weapon Il Rabidos were least familiar with. The length was somewhere between a quarterstaff and a sword, around four- feet in total. The main body was carved from a kind of wood, none of the men could identify which. It was clearly incredibly strong and equally flexible.
At the top of the wooden section was a blade. It was curved, razor-sharp and with a fierce point. Fumph explained it was made of a similar steel to the River Steels, yet the minerals in this case, were from the interior of the volcanoes of Valdir.
Towards the base of the Swo, where the carved wood slightly widened was attached a ribbon. Henry had scoffed at the idea of a ribbon on a weapon. However, Fumph had simply said they would understand once they spent some time training with Sarin.
“Next time I see you Henry my son, you’ll be thanking me for that bloody ribbon…But I’ll tell you what…how about this?”
Fumph had quick as a flash detached all three ribbons from the brother’s new fire Swos. He held them in his long green brown fingers smiled and threw them in the air. At the height of their trajectory Fumph muttered a word in a language the boys did not understand.
When the ribbons returned to his hand, they had changed.
“Our colours.” Kenny was delighted.
Somehow Fumph had weaved some kind of Goblin spell and transformed the ribbons into the blue-green tartan of the Claymore Confederacy.
“These weapons have a few tricks up their sleeves, so treat them with respect.” The stark warning was not lost on the Clansmen; weaponry was one of the only things they all did take seriously.
Sarin opened his eyes.
“Welcome back Il Rabidos.” The strangely accented tones of the Elf Master seemed warm and familiar to the brothers after the days of travel it has taken to make their way back from Fumph’s cave.
“Store your weapons, eat and then sleep…even here time is not on our side…we begin at daybreak.”
As they sat eating a meal of various fruits and berries talk turned to their mission once again.
The brothers had spoken about little else on the journey from Fumph’s emporium.
They had all decided that there was no point in killing this man Carver, despite the direction of the council. They all believed that capture and conversation was a far better plan.
Sarin explained that had only five months left to prepare which in Elven terms was less than nothing.
“Why Master Lore? I thought you said this Abor was timeless?” Henry chewed on some blackberries quietly lamenting the lack of meat.
Sarin explained.
“You cannot age here. You cannot die here…but there is a direct temporal relationship between Valdir and the Abor…the five months here will mean five weeks in your world... more or less. We can only pray it is enough.”
“What happens on in five weeks?” Kenny sat up.
Sarin shrugged. “No one knows…but my best guess is the man you seek will be nearing his goal and…well other battles will be afoot.”
“Other battles?” Hayden sounded concerned.
Sarin smiled. “Dear boy let us not worry about what might happen…let us worry about what will happen…and that is training.”
Perhaps that should have been the end of the subject but Henry was reluctant to let it go.
“Master Lore, if there is battle…will you join us in arms?”
Sarin looked into Henry’s dark eyes, dancing in the light of the roaring camp fire and slowly shook his head.
“My fighting days are long over…I have seen too much death on too many fields…It will be a hot day in the snow before I ride into battle…My work is simply to teach. I have trained the Spirit warriors of the Elven race for many thousands of years…though to my mind it is a great comfort that we have not seen war for so long a time…I truly hope this does not change anytime soon.”
“Don’t you miss fighting though Master? You must…I would hate to see a year with no scrapes.” The army kicker beamed.
Sarin laughed aloud, it was a deep resonating sound that hung in the air.
“Ah…Henry. That may change with age. You are still but young. My life is more one of contemplation. I do not seek the clash of steel, the screams of battle but the secrets of higher paths.”
“Higher paths?” We’re halfway up a bloody mountain…you can’t get much higher.” Henry took a bite of an apple.
“It is the inner paths I travel. There are realms within realms within realms. Even though I have devoted many lifetimes to unlocking the pathways I still know less that a single drop of rain knows about the nature of the monsoon it travels in…I am but a feather on the wind…I seek the source of the wind and the bird from which I have been plucked.”
“Feathers…I would kill for a bit of chicken right about now…” Henry Stewart slumped down on his woollen rug, closed his eyes and almost instantly fell asleep.
Sunrise
“A bandana?” Kenny asked.
“No…he said it was called a banana…they’re delicious, you should try it.” Hayden took a bite of his third.
“It’s not bacon, but it’s not bad I grant you.” Even Henry was impressed.
Sarin landed softly in the camp. He had taken his rest in the treetops as was his custom.
“Glad to hear you are enjoying your breakfast boys…however, today is not about bananas…but apples.”
“Follow.” Commanded the Elf and prompted walked into the trunk of the Oak. With a quick glance at one another, the brothers followed.
“We’re in Valdir…” Kenny like his brothers had become so used to the term that it had slipped into his normal vocabulary.
Henry took a deep breath and emitted a satisfied “Ahhh.”
All three felt it…emerging into the physical realm felt like waking up from a dream. It wasn’t that the dream was not pleasant…quite the opposite, the Abor felt vivid, transcendental almost but not the same. Valdir was like sitting back into a long loved leather chair that had become moulded to your shape. The chairs you have previously been using may have been beautiful to behold, incredibly comfortable…but they were not your chair.
Looking around, the men quickly realised, they were in an orchard. It was a warm morning, in fact, Hayden had noted it was unseasonably warm. The trees when laden heavy with bright green and red apples.
Kenny was puzzled.
“Master Lore…where are we? How can there be such a full fruit this time of year? It’s not yet even full blossom.”
Sarin looked pleased with himself.
“Not all the places in Valdir were lost to the calamities…that is a lie perpetuated by the Corporation. We are in a land far from your home, there are no folk here now…but as you can see there is bounty aplenty.”
And so began apple stick. It was a game, in fact, Il Rabidos were very familiar with.
Sarin had produced three wooden staffs, each the same length as a Valdirian Fire Swo. He began with a few of the basics in terms of grip, stance and basic strikes and blocks.
These moves came quickly to the brothers, they had been weapon trained from a very young age as was the custom in the Clan villages and towns.
As Sarin continued his lesson the moves became more involved. The Elf demonstrated ways to spin the staff in curving patterns. There were many cracks on the head and much swearing and laughter as each of the men wrestled with the bizarre techniques.
After several hours of practice, Sarin announced it was time for a game.
Unsurprisingly Henry wanted to go first.
Apple stick was and is a very simple game. The player has a stick his opponents have piles of apples. The aim of the game is not to hit the apples with the sticks, but rather, not to get hit by the apples.
“Ready?” Asked Sarin.
“Always.” Boasted Henry the army kicker.
“Begin.” Said Sarin brightly and hurled an apple at Henry’s head from about twelve feet away.
Such was the speed and ferocity of the throw that Henry did not have a chance. The apple hit him hard on the forehead, shattering and spreading apple chunks and juice into his eyes and generally all over his face.
Henry did not get a chance to call out in pain because with lightning speed the Elf had thrown a second apple that too broke on Henry’s head. This was immediately followed by two further hits from Hayden and Kenny, the latter who was doubling up with laughter.
In the hail of fruit Henry quickly found himself on the floor, his apple sodden head spinning.
“All right…enough…ENOUGH!” He shouted as the apples continued to rain down upon him.
Sarin let the torrent continue for a few seconds then clapped his hands.
“Cease!” He declared and the brother stopped.
Hayden and Kenny were in tears of hysterics as a scowling Henry crawled to his feet rubbing his temples.
Sarin walked up and put a hand on Henry’s shoulder to steady him.
“All right young Henry?”
“Aye…fine…” Came an extremely disgruntled sounding reply.
“Good…now scores…” Sarin produced a small notepad from his pocket. It was not in the style of the Clans, its looked was too polished and precise. He also had a pen, the like of which was also unfamiliar to the Clansmen.
“Ok…Henry Stewart…attempt one…what shall we say?”
“Shite.” Shouted Kenny.
“Saggy bollocks?” Suggested Hayden.
Sarin frowned theatrically…” No no no…too harsh…far too harsh…I’m going to go with…abysmal…yes…abysmal…right, who’s next?”
The experience of the other two Rabidos brothers was little better than Henry’s. This, of course, was of enormous relief and delight to the middle child and he found the sight of Kenny fishing apple bits from his ear particularly amusing.
After each brother had taken three turns with only marginal improvement Sarin announced it was his time to face the apples.
He took his place in the middle of the three men, facing Hayden with Kenny and Henry to the side and behind.
Sarin adopted a stance with the staff in his right hand running up the back of his arm and back so that the bottom of the wood appeared over his right shoulder.
“Begin.” He announced.
The first apple came hard and fast from Hayden. Sarin without looking moved his head inches to the left. Henry loosed his apple in time to get hit in the face by Hayden’s apple. In the meantime, Sarin has spun around and struck the apple in the direction of Kenny. Next, the Elf Master hurled the stick spinning into the sky. Kenny had released his apple and it was on a trajectory with Sarin’s head. He did not see whether it found its target as Henry’s redirected apple struck heavily on the bridge of his nose. It wouldn’t have mattered for his apple did not find its target. With the staff high above, still spinning wildly Sarin caught the apple, spun once again and with ferocious power launched the hard fruit at Hayden.
As the eldest brother fell earthwards showered in sticky apple juice Sarin caught the staff with his now empty right hand, behind his back.
The three Clansmen sat bewildered on the grass. Not only had Sarin Lore been not even close to being struck, he had taken out all three of them in a couple of seconds.
Sarin sniffed and pulled out the notepad.
“Sarin Lore…hot…stuff…”
Hayden wiped apple from his face as he climbed to his feet.
“How Master? How did you do that?”
Sarin took an apple from the tree.
“When did this apple begin? When it grew from blossom? When the tree itself took root? Was it always going to be here? Was it inevitable?
Time and existence does not truly exist in a line. All things happen together and we then make sense of them by placing them in lines. It is the way creatures understand things.
There is no point trying to avoid the apples. You must strive to understand that the apples have already been avoided. Know that the event has already occurred and then allow the play to unfold. Once you have a clear reckoning of how the story will flow…be still in your mind, think of nothing and let what has already happened reflect again…Your perfect form already exists, it is now your task to recreate that perfect expression. Not just here in this orchard with these apples…but beyond. The fate of this realm is already decided…there are thousands of futures already weaved, it is now your task to be the future you need.”
With that, the Elf informed the brothers he had matters to attend to and would see them at night fall back at their camp in the Abor.
Just as he was about to leave through the trunk of a particularly large apple tree he turned once more.
“Practice hard…we have much ground to cover. We’ll sup together this evening and then continue tomorrow for the next phase of this game…stone stick. I would explain the rules but I imagine you can all probably work them out for yourselves… ‘life and land’ Clansmen…’life and land…’
