Chapter 5: Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum

Nadia stood in the corner of the training yard, facing a small rough cut wooden table. She looked to me curiously, and then back to the ceramic basin on the table in front of her. This was her first day in the practice yard, and I could tell the presence of the other novices intimidated her.

“For the next month, this is your task.” Sister Veritas explained. Her voice, while still gentle, now held the tone of authority I had come to know, and respect all those years ago at The Abbey of The Lakes. “Every day, you will fill this basin with sand. And you will strike it. Either with your fist, or an open hand.” To emphasize her instruction, Veirtas drove her fist into the sand. Burying it nearly to the wrist.

As she was walking away Nadia called her attention again. “How many times do I hit it?” she asked quietly, I could tell she was trying not to embarrass herself in front of the other novices. I could see, even from across the yard, the uncertainty in her eyes. It was almost more than I could stand. The fear, and anxiety in her face was palpable.

Veritas however, knew exactly how to cure it. That gentle smile, a smile I could describe in perfect detail from memory, crept across her face. I could see Nadia relax under the warmth of that smile, and felt the tension ease out of me. “It is your task Nadia.” She explained calmly, “As long as we are in the yard, this is your task. When we leave, you may as well.” I knew Veritas batter than anyone within The Abbey, and I knew, that though she had said it as gently as possible, she had left no room for debate. If Nadia wished to learn, this was a task she had to complete.

I grinned ruefully, and watched for a short time, as Nadia punched awkwardly at her basin of sand. All too clearly I could recall my first days in the training yard at The Abbey of The Lakes. Just like me, Nadia was going to rue the day she decided she wanted to fight.

I turned to Anna, and Erik. I had made it absolutely clear that Bram was not to practice until his knee was back to full mobility. It was rare enough to have a novice complete their training, I was not about to cripple the boy before he could. Only one in twenty novices completed the trials. And then only one in four survived their first year in The World After. Bram had the dedication, the patience, and most importantly the skill, to be that one in four. I refused to be the one to steal that from him. So instead, I was sparring only with Anna, and Erik this morning.

It was, sadly a very short morning, for the both of them. Less than an hour into our practice session they were already nearly coming to blows, as they were bested yet again, because they refused to work together.

Veritas, who was working with the three younger novices, drilling them through basic combat forms, had had enough. She strode over to my bickering pair, and I felt a sudden welling of pity for the both of them. With the fluid grace of a hunting cat, she grabbed Erik by his left arm, as he was windmilling it in Anna’s face, screaming at her about keeping out his way. A deft twist of her shoulders, while sliding her left leg between his, and Erik’s argument blasted from his throat in a pained wheeze, as he landed solidly on his neck and shoulders.

I winced, remembering my own first encounter with Veritas’ ire. And almost missed it, as she continued her tight spin, snapping her right leg out in a slashing shin kick to the back of Anna’s knee. A savage elbow followed closely behind it, connecting with crushing force across her cheek. Both novices lay on the ground gasping as Veritas began to speak. Very loudly.

“If you two fools are quite done embarrassing yourselves!?” her tone was icy. I could feel the anger coming off of her in waves. “Bishop has been trying to show you what happens to a fighter who neglects his compatriots!” Her fists clenched hard enough for her knuckles to crack, as she spoke. “You’ve only been fortunate that HE chose to teach this lesson! What do you suppose would have happened if you’d had to learn it while facing the likes of a Fallen Brother? What if you’d had to face an apostate!?”

The look of horror that crossed Anna’s face at the thought, showed me that the message was beginning to become clear. “What if you faced the likes of The Savage Baron?” the collective gasp that filled the yard could almost be felt. Veritas ignored the discomfort her question had caused the novices, and continued. “For the next month, you will learn how to fight TOGETHER. When Bram is back, he will join you. This is a lesson I will not let you fail! You will either learn to fight together, or you will, inevitably, die alone.”

There was utter silence in the practice yard, as Veritas walked stiffly back to the dormitory. Slowly the novices dispersed, the lessons for today clearly at an end, until only Nadia remained. To my surprise, she continued to punch the sand. The strain of nearly two hours of the exercise, clearly showing on her flushed, and sweaty face. I couldn’t understand why, but I felt an intense sense of pride at her work ethic, and determination, as she refused to stop until, just as Veritas had said. We had all left the practice yard.

Placing a clay jug of water on the small table next to her basin of sand I said gently, “Your lesson for today is finished Nadia.” I wasn’t surprised in the least, when she nearly collapsed against the table, gasping for breath, as her arms and shoulders trembled from her efforts. “Drink.” I urged her, nudging the jug closer to her “But slowly. I don’t want you getting sick.” With the same grateful look she gave me the night I had taken her from Dolman’s camp, Nadia accepted the jug, and began to take slow, measured, sips of the cool liquid.

I sat against the small spruce tree that shaded Nadia’s small corner of the practice yard, and watched as she slowly regained her composure. “You remind me of myself, you know that?” I said quietly, as I let a small smile spread across my face.

Nadia looked at me quizzically, as she sat gingerly beside me. Her face screwing into a mask of incredulity, as she eyed me with a sidelong glance.

“My first day in a training yard, I broke my hand.” I explained gently, as I flexed my right fist in emphasis. “When Brother Cardinal, who was in charge of the younger Novices, tried to excuse me” I looked into Nadia’s face, as she absorbed that piece of information. Her eyes drifted back to my fist, as I clenched it hard enough for the knuckles to crack. “I asked him ‘Why? My left hand still works.’ And I refused to leave the yard, until training was over.”