Wrenn realized he was in deep trouble.
On the second hit, Brelik’s axe put a large gash in the blade of his sword.
A rend in pure steel.
As if it wasn’t enough that the other Gryphon outclassed him as a warrior, and had the use of his wings, he was also much stronger. Normally Wrenn’s best hope would have lain in his greater agility, but the iron band around his chest negated that.
Despite the pounding rage that was doing its best to cloak his brain in a dark red haze, Wrenn managed to pull back to avoid another expert swipe of Brelik’s axe. The massive double edged blade missed him by mere centimeters, the air displaced by its passage rustling his chest feathers.
Wrenn knew the black Gryphon wasn’t trying to kill him; All his maneuvers had been designed to be potentially harmful, but not necessarily lethal. Nonetheless, the test was far less controlled or safe than anything he’d taken part in before, even during his intensive Special Forces boot camp sessions.
Wrenn’s anger was making it difficult to maintain concentration. He forced himself to back off a few paces, dodging madly as Brelik pressed his advantage. He needed space, even it was only a moment, to clear his head and force his emotions under control.
The iron band was heavy, but not so heavy that Wrenn couldn’t lift himself off the ground. While his ability to jump was impaired, his legs were as strong as ever. The next time Brelik brought his axe down, Wrenn made use of the delay to latch onto the Gryphon’s shoulders, and use them as a fulcrum to pivot over him.
Brelik tried to swat at him, but he took too long disengaging his grip from the axe. By the time he had his claw free, Wrenn was already on the other side of him. The added time it took Brelik to re-establish a two-claw grip on the weapon added precious moments to Wrenn’s improvised reprieve.
The entire exchange, and the ensuing moment of calm, only lasted a total of three seconds, but that was more than enough time for Wrenn to stop and devote a measure of attention to his raging feelings.
The key, he tried to remind himself, was to separate the situation from the emotions surrounding it as much as possible, leaving behind only enough anger to act as a fuel for his strength.
Perhaps he was little more than a novice with a sword, but he *was* an expert soldier overall, a veteran of several difficult conflicts, and despite the lack of his wings, he was still fairly agile and strong.
As Brelik closed with him again, his mind was far more clear, and he fell to evaluating the situation.
Strong opponent, extremely capable, veteran fighter.
Weaknesses; Slower weapon requiring longer arcs for full effect, decreased agility due to muscle bulk, firm belief in his own assured victory... Not entirely unfounded.
Lastly, opponent is scaling back his attacks to prolong the battle. Likely to evaluate skills.
Battlefield; Grassy circular space, surrounded by upright granite monoliths. No easy access to sand, pebbles, or small stones... But no enforced limits either.
Wrenn realized that since there were no instructions, and presumably no rules, that he wasn’t limited to the grassy training circle. Still barely fending off Brelik’s manic assault, he did his best to guide the battle out of the ring.
Brelik tried twice to corral him, but his weapon was ill suited to battlefield control. The axe was simply too slow to fully compensate for Wrenn’s retreating strategy.
As the duel relocated to rockier ground outside the ring, Brelik began to make use of his wings.
The axe was, once again, a detriment and an advantage. Assaults from above, with the sheer momentum its weight provided, were nearly unstoppable. But in return, Brelik’s flighted motions were slower than average, making it possible for Wrenn to dodge more easily.
As Brelik made another attempt at putting a dent in Wrenn’s chestplate, a tactical inspiration struck.
His opponent’s flips always terminated at a fixed distance to the rear.
Rocky ground, strewn with scree, dust, dirt, and pebbles.
Conclusion; Potential distraction, leading to opening, providing a possible head-shot.
When Brelik launched into his next flip, Wrenn dodged the axe blade as per usual, but then he stumbled, as if his sense of balance had momentarily faltered or he had lost his stability.
As he heard Brelik’s paws impact the ground, Wrenn kicked the loose shale with the full force of his back legs, sending out a high speed spray of sharp, painful pebbles, dirt, and dust.
Wrenn turned his kick into a smooth rotating motion. As Brelik came back into view, Wrenn could see that he had been forced to put up a claw to protect his eyes from the shower of loose debris. Thinking Quickly, Wrenn brought his free claw up, yanked off his helmet, and in the same move sent it spinning towards Brelik’s head at full speed.
Brelik was easily able to ward off the projectile with his weapon, but by the time he had done so, Wrenn had closed with him, and now he had an opening. He brought the pommel of his sword down against the back of Brelik’s head as hard as he could.
The impact made a resounding clang, as if a gong had been struck. Brelik wasn’t wearing a helmet, but Gryphons' skull bones were some of the thickest in their bodies. The injury wasn’t severe, but it was jarring. Wrenn managed to get in a sharp knee to Brelik’s chest before the larger Gryphon forced him back with a painful blow from one of his wings, and he noticed that Brelik’s expression carried a mild undertone of surprise.
His ears had flicked back a few centimeters, and the muscles at the corner of his beak turned down ever so slightly.
Wrenn managed to snag his helmet as he fell backwards, returning it to his skull. He made a mental note to keep it on, regardless of the temptation to use it as a second weapon again. Brelik wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice, and Wrenn’s ears were ringing from the blow he had just received.
It would be to his advantage to protect his head more vigilantly.
When the duel resumed in full, Wrenn discovered he had a new problem. Brelik was slowly increasing the skill and speed of his attacks, putting an ever rising pressure on him to draw on bladed weapon skills that he simply did not possess.
Wrenn wondered how Brelik’s speed and reflexes compared to the city guards he had seen earlier. If the black Gryphon was that capable, then he would shortly have Wrenn fatally outmatched.
Wrenn’s reflexes and perception were good, but he didn’t have the practice and honed skills of a veteran Knight. Even if Brelik was only ahead of him by a few tenths of a second, he would be able to thrash him *soundly.*
On his next stroke, Brelik landed another surprise blow with his wings.
As Wrenn staggered back, the larger Gryphon snickered.
The pain, and the taunt, threatened to let loose another torrent of anger, something Wrenn could ill afford at that stage. He knew it was a calculated move, and with every ounce of his self control, he stifled his feelings.
“I won’t go down *that* easily. Though I will admit, you have me firmly outmatched.”
Brelik raised an eyebrow, “Then why not surrender?” He punctuated the words with a strong swipe that Wrenn barely managed to deflect with his sword.
Brelik’s smirk was maddening, but Wrenn kept bringing his thoughts back to the memory of the pain the two HLF augments had caused him. He kept reminding himself of the consequences of unbridled rage.
Wrenn smiled, and made a quick jab into the opening left by the axe’s completed arc, “Because surrender is only an option once you’re beaten, and while you outclass me, I’m not out of creative ideas yet.”
Even as the words left his beak, another thought occurred to him.
If he could divest Brelik of his axe, but retain a hold on his own sword, then he would have an equalizing advantage by way of the reach his weapon afforded him.
The maneuver would be exceedingly dangerous, as Wrenn would have to place himself in a highly vulnerable position to get one of Brelik’s vice-like claws off the weapon’s haft.
Then, actually succeeding in knocking the large death-dealing implement away would be a one in a hundred chance.
Wrenn planned several variants of the strategy before making his first move. Battling a normal human, or a surprised enemy, was one thing; Their moves were incredibly predictable.
Battling an aware augment, or another Gryphon, was considerably more complex.
Wrenn slowly allowed Brelik to move in close. He didn’t even have to open himself up for a blow, his opponent was moving so quickly that he could take swipes whenever he desired.
As the axe descended, Wrenn sidestepped, letting the axe clang off the iron band around his chest, and jabbed with his sword. He didn’t intend to actually hit Brelik, he intended for the Gryphon to raise his talons to bat the sword away.
Brelik did so, he had little other choice given that his axe was still moving downward from the momentum of rebounding off the wing band. Wrenn ducked, and kicked hard with his back paws, claws extended. At the same time, he whipped his tail up, flaring the fan to further confuse Brelik.
Amazingly, the last-split-second act of opening the fan provided enough distraction for his back paws to slam full-on into the one claw Brelik was still gripping the axe with.
The weapon slid from his grasp, and spiraled away down the slope, embedding itself up the the haft in a boulder several hundred yards below.
Wrenn took a step back and to the side, placing himself between Brelik and the path to the axe.
He knew that Brelik could just fly over him, but the act of launching into the air would make his chest vulnerable to Wrenn’s sword briefly.
The only way to keep his enemy in check would be to keep close to him, consequently the only option left was to press the attack until the end.
Wrenn’s first blow nearly landed, Brelik was still recovering from the surprise of losing his weapon. The emotion was now clearly written on his face; His eyes were wider, his beak slightly agape, and his ears pressed back.
Despite the near-success of his stratagem, Brelik was too skillful.
He knocked the blow aside with a well place rap of his claw against the flat of the blade, and began attacking Wrenn directly with his talons, wings, and beak.
Wrenn began to realize that, against anyone else, he might have had a chance at winning. But Brelik was amazingly strong, and unusually large. His momentum and strength compounded with his experience, leaving Wrenn with the distinct impression that he was little more than a tin soda can on a maglev track in the face of the coming assault.
Brelik was at last fighting with all his skill and strength. The only reason he didn’t instantly fell Wrenn was because his sword gave him a small advantage.
Despite that, Brelik slowly began to wear down Wrenn’s defenses with ever more complicated and swift attacks.
Finally, the inevitable happened; Wrenn found himself flat on his back with Brelik’s talons pressed hard into the feathers around his throat.
“Yield.”
It took several seconds for Wrenn to reply. He was angry again.
Angry that he had been beaten in a test that had been badly stacked against him.
Angry that a chance he had made for himself to win had been so easily snatched away.
Angry that he was being forced to surrender at all.
Finally, he managed to convince himself that there was no point in defiance.
He had nothing left to prove, and he had failed in any case. He could see no way out; If he even inhaled too deeply, Brelik would doubtless severely injure him.
It was one of the hardest things he had ever said, but he said it, doing his best to force his voice to remain neutral, “I yield.”
With amazing speed, Brelik’s snarl turned to a smile, and his deadly claw went from being a weapon, to a proffered claw of aid.
Wrenn grasped Brelik’s foreleg, and pulled himself up, shaking himself to dislodge dust and dirt, “What now?”
Brelik gestured to the two training assistants, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
They unlocked the chest band, and Wrenn reflexively flared his wings, allowing air to rush over the feathers in a cooling, relieving breeze.
Brelik shook his head and frowned, “Now you leave. You failed to defeat me, and therefore you failed the test.”
Wrenn wasn’t sure which he wanted more, to cry or to screech. But Brelik wasn’t really his enemy, and he had lost fair and square, “How soon can I make another attempt? Am I even allowed to try again?”
Brelik nodded, “The code of Knighthood mandates you wait one year before your next attempt. You will not be asked to repeat the tests you have already passed.”
“I don’t suppose it would count as cheating for you to give me some instruction in your technique? I’m at a fairly severe disadvantage.”
Brelik allowed Wrenn a small half-smile, “If you can find some time for it, I would be willing to teach you.”
Wrenn sighed, “How does this affect my standing in the military?”
“You will, I presume, be allowed to retain the provisional Knight Errant rank.”
Wrenn inclined his head. As the adrenaline of combat slowly faded, so did his anger, replaced by a painful sense of humility at his own inexperience, “Right. Well, that’s a start. I certainly hope to be much improved in a year’s time.”
He offered Brelik a claw, “Well fought. I hope I can learn as much from you as you clearly have to teach me.”
Brelik took the claw in a firm grasp, “It seems you have already learned the most important thing I can teach you. How to accept defeat. Congratulations, you have passed the *fourth* test, and therefore the third as well.”
Wrenn froze. The words didn’t register.
“I... What?”
Brelik chuckled, smiling broadly, “Earning the bow, the fourth test, the supposed ‘difference’ in tests for the two specializations... It’s all part of the same construct. We already know anyone seeking a promotion at this stage is militarily capable. What we truly want to know is if you are capable of dealing with the four worst conditions a Gryphon can be placed under.”
Wrenn’s eyes widened, “Panic... The test of the caves, fixation in the test at the lake, rage in the single combat test... And...
Defeat?”
Brelik nodded, “Defeat. We don’t expect any applicant to pass the combat test. None ever have, likely none ever will. We always pit them against veterans, usually myself or someone of similar skill and age.
The idea is to see how long you can last, and how quickly you can gain control of your anger. Then, when you are inevitably defeated, the fourth test is gauging your reactions when you truly believe you have failed.”
Wrenn stood in silence for a moment, “So... I... Passed? By failing gracefully?”
Brelik laughed outright, “Yes indeed. You’re not the most well endowed when it comes to controlling your anger, but you did eventually succeed. You then managed to last longer than any contestant I’ve ever fought. You are certainly the only one who had ever succeeded in disarming me. And, finally, you chose to yield when it became the best option, then treated the situation with decorum, facing an honorable opponent. You most certainly passed.”
Wrenn considered his situation for a moment, then grinned, “You conned me. 'Task Failed Successfully.' ”
“Yes. That’s the point.”
“Is your offer to train me still valid?”
“Of course.”
Wrenn let out an ear piercing call. A sound of pure triumph and joy.
The feeling of success, in the face of impossible odds, was euphoric.
He had experienced the relief of victory before, but he hadn’t been so happy to end a battle since he had passed his Special Forces boot camp.
Brelik chuckled, “You have the rest of the afternoon to rest before the feast, and ceremony tonight. You’ve certainly earned the respite.”
He winked, “Take a piece of advice. After turning in your training gear, go bathe yourself in hot water. It will prevent the soreness from setting in too badly.”
Wrenn eased out of his battered chest-plate and shook himself, dislodging a fine mist of dirt and dust, “And I could certainly stand to get all of *this* off my feathers.”
At first, returning to his room felt alien for Wrenn. He had been on the move so much recently, never staying in one place for more than a day, that coming back to the same spot he’d woken up in was refreshing.
Even more refreshing was the long hot shower he allowed himself. Wrenn usually forced himself to take ‘navy showers’ out of habit, but in this case he felt he deserved a reprieve.
The stream of hot water pounded the dirt, soreness, stress, worry, and adrenaline out of his system, leaving behind a sublime feeling of calm.
He took a few minutes to dry himself on his sunning rock, and the heat did wonders for the bruises and cramps that had formed from the day’s exertions and abuses. He spared an idle glance for the armor rack, wondering if now he would get a chance to fill it with gear he could call his own.
After fully drying himself, he examined the cuts and scrapes he had acquired in the duel.
None were serious, but a few were still slightly sensitive to the touch.
One he was assured that none of his wounds would require more care, he fell to wandering the mountain stronghold, looking for Varan and Kephic. The Gryphons had done an excellent job with the structure, dispelling most of the feel of being ‘underground,’ without sacrificing the defensive advantages of constructing inside a mountain.
Eventually, Wrenn gave up and decided to try and find the library instead. From the moment it had been mentioned he had developed an ever increasing desire to explore it. Wrenn loved books, especially 'real' books, which had become quite rare on Earth due to the lack of paper producing trees.
After aimlessly wandering for several more minutes, he finally asked directions from a passing Gryphon laden down with construction tools. Apparently there were renovations and extensions in progress.
The architect gave him instructions that took him back the way he had come, then through a series of turns to a T-Junction, then a left, down a flight of stairs, and through a connecting corridor.
Wrenn knew he had succeeded in locating the library when he came upon a massive set of carved wooden doors. The inlay portrayed what he assumed to be scenes from the history of the city, given that in the upper left corner there were several Gryphons overlooking an empty mountain peak, and in the lower right there was a depiction of the city as it currently stood.
There were no handles. The doors simply swung in silently and easily at the slightest push, slowly returning to their closed position on their own without so much as a squeak or a thud.
Wrenn stood transfixed by the scope of the Library.
The chamber he had just entered was one of four long vaulted rooms, each wide enough for three Gryphons to fly abreast, as long as a football field, and at least four stories high.
The four chambers connected to a central domed room that seemed, at first glance, to look out on the sky.
Despite the apparent impossibility of the glass dome in the central chamber, what first held Wrenn's attention was the books and scrolls. The walls of the four long rooms were covered in shelves and pigeon holes, each tagged with something in Gryphic script.
Wrenn spied several doors between the shelves that presumably lead to more small rooms for storage, study, and writing.
He meandered towards the central chamber, trying to take in the sheer scope of knowledge and history contained in the space around him. The floor was marble, and most of the walls were granite, but there were intricately carved wooden bracings, rails, stairs, and metal filigree inlays everywhere.
When he reached the central chamber, the mystery of the sky-dome seized his attention.
He knew, based on his instincts, that he was standing too far underground for the ceiling, high as it was, to reach the top of the mountain. Nonetheless, the roof appeared to be blue sky.
He stood for several minutes, staring, trying to puzzle out how it was possible.
There were no lights, no mirrors, and as far as he could see, no projectors or anything remotely technological that could be responsible for the phenomena.
His thoughts turned to magic, but Gryphons had to import even the simplest of magical things, right down to mage lights. It occurred to him that perhaps it was a gift or relic from an earlier time.
His musings were interrupted by a distinctly female voice, "You've never seen it before, have you?"
He glanced down to see a tan Gryphon. Her head, ears, throat, chest, and back paws were covered entirely in multi-toned blue markings. The same shades populated symmetrical bands on her wings and tail.
She motioned to the roof with her head, "No one ever told you how it works?"
Wrenn shook his head, "I'm... New."
The newcomer cocked her head, "New to Tih’ré Seli’hn?"
Wrenn chuckled, "To the species."
Her eyes widened, "Oh! So you're the convert!"
"In the flesh. And fur," Wrenn shrugged, "And feathers."
"Well... I'm Neyla." She dipped her head in a move that reminded Wrenn of the formal courtesies European politicians still insisted on using despite the unified government.
He dipped his own head in what he hoped was an appropriate response, "I'm Isaac Wrenn."
She raised an eyebrow, "You kept the human name?"
Wrenn shrugged again, "I'm still not sure what I'd use for a new one really. I don't know enough about our language and naming conventions to settle on anything."
She glanced over her shoulder, as if contemplating something, "I suppose... I could help you with that. First, I think I'll put an end to your bewilderment though."
It was Wrenn's turn to cock his head.
She laughed, "The ceiling."
"Oh! Yes! how *does* that work? is it magic?"
Neyla shook her head, "It's shaped diamond. The dome is a solid curved sheet of it that our metallurgists fashioned long ago. Mirrors in small tubes feed in outside light, and the dome magnifies it. It effectively reflects the lighting conditions of the sky, without having to actually touch the open air."
Wrenn gaped, "Sheesh. Diamond fiber-optics. And I thought sun days were a clever engineering feat."
"Sun days?"
He chuckled, "Imagine a sky where the sun never shines."
Neyla grimaced, "That sounds awful."
"Beyond words. Now imagine the biggest most powerful light you've ever seen, and multiply its power by a thousand thousand fold. Then imagine thousands of these lights, all pointed at the clouds. That's how we simulate sunlight on Earth. But we can only manage it once a week in most places. Hence 'Sun Day.' "
Neyla shivered, "It sounds... Lifeless. Dull. I think I prefer the sky-dome."
Wrenn nodded, "You and me both. Seeing blue sky, let alone the sun itself, was a shock, let me tell you."
"You grew up without a sun?"
"Not entirely. But you can't actually see it. Just some of the light."
Neyla began walking towards a large spiral staircase set into one of the walls, "What happened to your sky?"
As they climbed the stairs and roamed the corridors of the Library, Wrenn explained the atmospheric condition of the Earth. He found Neyla to be sharp minded, and she quickly picked up on concepts that Wrenn himself had struggled with for quite some time when they were initially introduced to him.
As they continued walking and talking, Wrenn discovered that the Library's chambers were many-layered, going back further than the main vaults might lead one to believe.
Neyla, peppering him with questions, eventually led him to a small out-of-the-way alcove containing several old scrolls in sealed pigeon holes. The apertures were protected by glass covers with intricately worked brass latches.
Her face bore a confused expression, "So... Humans fly with metal airships that move by burning a fuel so volatile that its combustion produces enough heat to melt steel?"
Wrenn nodded.
"Remind me again how the species survived its first major wars?"
Wrenn laughed, "We barely did."
Neyla shook her head, "I agree with you that many Human inventions and much of their tactical learning will be of great interest and value to us." She gestured to the alcove, "We're here... These are census records for the last few hundred years. Plenty of good names to get you started with."
Wrenn picked a scroll at random, and gingerly undid the cover, removing the paper within as if it were a sacred artifact. It was only the third time in his life that he had held actual paper.
"I'm afraid you'll have to suffer through my idiotic non-comprehension of linguistics."
Neyla snorted, "You seem to have a decent command of the spoken word. If you have trouble learning language, its likely through lack of effort."
Wrenn laughed, "I suppose that's true."
Neyla removed two more scrolls, then led Wrenn to another small alcove equipped with mage lamps, a low-set table, and comfortable floor cushions. Wrenn flopped down and sighed. He had been on his feet most of the day, and his respite on the sunning rock had been all too short.
"So..." He carefully unfurled the first scroll, "Where do we begin?"
Neyla laid a single talon on the first word, "Gryphic isn't like most Equestrian languages.
The words are quite specific, but there aren't individual letters when it's taken as a whole.
They merge to become more than the sum of the individuals."
For the next hour, Wrenn struggled through his first real lesson in a new language.
Gryphic was as much an exercise in art as science. It was specific, unyielding, and complex, but at the same time flowing and situational, often deriving part of its meaning from context, but always unambiguously.
Finally, Wrenn held up a claw, and dug into his aching eyes with the other, "Perhaps we're going at this all wrong."
Neyla looked confused, "How do you mean?"
"I mean how about this; I know a few words of Gaelic. It's an old Earth language. I don't speak it, but I learned a couple of the nouns when I was stationed in that part of the world. I became enamored with the history and mythology of the place."
He shook his head abruptly, clearing out his rambling thoughts, "Anyways, I learned their word for Eagle; Fireun. Can we do something with that? Preferably something that's close to my name as it is now. I think that would make adjustment easier."
Neyla's expression conveyed her understanding, and she fell to examining the scroll in front of her. For a long moment she wordlessly browsed the list of names until she finally hit upon something that interested her, "Here."
Wrenn leaned over and stared at the name she was pointing too. Neyla shied away slightly, and he realized he had probably learned in a bit too close, "Sorry. How's that pronounced?"
She smiled slightly, "That's alright. It's pronounced Fyrenn. 'FihRenn.' It means valor. Specifically valor in combat, or war."
She looked up, her gaze piercing Wrenn, evaluating and comparing.
"I think it suits you."
He smiled, "Fyrenn...." He tried the sound of it out several more times, rolling it around on his tongue, "I like it. And it doesn't hurt that it rhymes with Wrenn...."
Neyla began re-rolling the census scrolls, "So, will you change your name then?"
Wrenn inclined his head, first to one side, then the other, "Perhaps. Not sure I want to make that decision lightly." He rose and stretched, triggering a reflexive yawn, "Pardon me."
Neyla raised an eyebrow, "It's not polite to yawn in public?"
"Not where I used to live, no."
"Strange."
Wrenn laughed, "I suppose it is. Nice to know I don't have to clamp my beak shut every time I'm tired. Thanks for your help, by the way. I would have probably stared at that ceiling until the sun went down if you hadn't come along."
Neyla dipped her head again, "It wasn't as if I had anything else to do."
"Are you the librarian?"
She chuckled, "No such luck. I was here looking for old clan records. I haven't had any success so far."
Wrenn sighed, "I wish I could help, but I'm afraid I'll need a few more tutoring sessions before I can do basic reading."
Neyla shook her head, "That's all right. This is my problem, and my search."
From the tone in her voice, Wrenn gathered that she would rather not continue that line of conversation, "So, will you be at the feast tonight?"
She nodded, "I expect so..."
"Why don't you join us then? I'll introduce you to my closest friends, Varan and Kephic."
Neyla looked hesitant, Wrenn shrugged, "You have family or friends you're sitting with?"
"No no... It's not that..." She looked torn, but ultimately sighed, then nodded, "Why not. I'll see you there."
Wrenn smiled, "Likewise."
As he meandered out of the library, in the general direction of the great hall, he kept turning the name over in his mind;
Fyrenn.
He decided he liked it.
It did indeed suit him.