Mik took a momentary pause from the story, realizing he had been so far lost in thought and lore he had nearly forgotten he was sitting by a bonfire trading tales with Kai. Kai on the other hand had become so captivated he had forgotten he too sat by a bonfire, on the precipice of what would be the greatest battle he had ever fought in, perhaps the last battle. Kai, noticing the momentary pause, asked, “What was it like?” He trailed off, failing to elaborate, as a person asking a question while still developing the thought so often does. Mik, not fully understanding the question, responded, “What do you mean?” Kai now having formulated the complete thought stated, “It is so hard for me to understand you being spoken with a certain amount of knowledge, far above any of my people at birth, though also needing to attend school to learn.” Mik nodded in the affirmative. “This certainly was how we, the Twelve that is, felt in that time too. The best I can explain is while we had of course just been spoken, much of our knowledge base had already been formed. In many ways that knowledge felt as if much of it was distant memories or prior experiences, though obviously none of it was our own memories, knowledge or experience. It was as if Speaker had not only given us life, but perhaps placed some of his knowledge within us at the time of our speaking. Kai, deeply desiring to understand, though still confused, looked up at Mik and said, “Please continue if you wouldn’t mind.”
Mik saw the confusion with pity and agreed to press forward, “While we had a functional level of knowledge when we were spoken, we required further education and training both at a general level and a specialized level. The best way I can describe it is we needed to fill in the gaps.” Kai, still processing, however seemingly making progress towards understanding, nodded, and asked Mik to continue.
Mik proceeded, “We entered the smaller structure that stood between us and the massive triangle structure, as a teenager might walk the hallways of their first day of high school. There were no other students, and while one of the rooms was very much a standard classroom, many of the rooms were anything but. We followed the son into the standard classroom, stumbling upon four rows of neatly ordered desks and chairs, each hand-carved wood, sanded to a smoothness that begged to be touched. The same point-free triangle was engraved into the back of each chair. A luscious, inviting cushion was embedded into each chair, promising a comfortable seat during extended lessons. Around the top borders of the room life-radiating vines delicately spidered across the walls, accompanied by the same liquid substances, nourishing the vines with no visible object holding it in place. It gave off an aura that the room or perhaps the building as a whole were alive and healthy. Around the walls of the room were cubby-like structures similar to the ones found in the quarters. Most of the cubbies contained scrolls, though one section was noticeably void of any scrolls.
The son gesturing with an open hand, said, “Sit, sit, please find a seat.” App and I took the two middle seats in the front row. Tabi sat in the front chair to my right, Sid found his way to the front chair on App’s left, with the rest of the Twelve falling in behind us. Once everyone was seated, the son began, “Welcome. You are the inaugural class in the school of Doxa. My father would like to say a few words.”
From behind us, a comforting, “Hello and welcome,” fell upon us, as Speaker moved from the back of the classroom to the front, robes gently swaying, smile radiating, and a slight twinkle in his eyes. App and I looked at each other, both eyebrows furrowed, silently communicating, there was no way Speaker was in this room when we entered. I immediately turned back to look at the walls. There were no other doors aside from the one we entered. Speaker gently tapped each of our shoulders as he walked by, as if to indicate he was thoroughly enjoying us basking in confusion.
“Welcome to the inaugural class of the school of Doxa. You will find you are to be the foundation of a great future in Doxa. As members of the Twelve, your ability to learn, retain, and create will come far easier and quicker than any in Doxa, particularly those to come after you. During your education you will each receive a great amount of general knowledge in writing, languages both present and future, healing, agriculture, music, art, science, wisdom, architecture, astronomy, and lastly warfare. You will each also learn and become a subject matter expert, beyond the other Twelve in a given field. Upon completion of your education you will become instructors here at the school. You will serve the Malakh who will be spoken soon, and there will be many. You will be expected to educate, inspire, and lead those placed in your charge, so I encourage you, do not allow yourself to be distracted during your time of education. We expect great things of each of you.” Peculiarly, Speaker gestured to his left, our right, where the son stood, though he seemed to acknowledge both his son, and an incredibly ornate, hand carved high-back chair in the corner behind the son. The chair was far superior to any of the chairs at our desks in design, craftsmanship, and polish, and had the same triangle symbol intricately carved into the headrest. App and I looked at the chair, back to Speaker, and back to the chair again. The chair appeared empty as a canteen in the middle of the Sahara desert.
Speaker continued, “Your primary instructors will be my son, and Eli,” who with impeccable timing, moved through the open doorway, a beautiful, dark wooden chest, trimmed with vibrant gold, coursing with what appeared to be bearak in his right arm. For such an incredibly muscular creature, Eli’s ability to move across a floor without producing any sound was incredible, as if his feet never actually made contact with the ground. “They will be joined by a host of adjunct instructors, however, they will be your primary point of contact, and responsible to ensure you receive all necessary knowledge. I will begin the process of speaking more Malakh soon. I bid you well, and will be present for portions of the training.” Without further comment Speaker exited the door we had all entered through.
Eli, never one to waste words, stepped forward, observing the class, and in a soft, deep voice stated, “Rise.” Without any further instruction required, we all rose and stood to the right of our desks. Eli, in the same tone said, “Hands out.” He shifted the chest from his right hand to his left, the chest seemingly opening without any manipulation. Inside were rows of spheres about the size of golf balls. Each sphere was clear in nature, though a storm visibly raged inside with forked lightning and visible vapor moving about. Eli, smooth as water in a gentle creek, though faster than a pit viper waved his hand over the box and each of the spheres immediately departed the box and nestled into the outstretched hands of the Twelve. I suppose this is one of those moments we should have been disturbed or intrigued, yet, the moment felt as if it was supposed to happen. We each held our position, only to see Eli step to Sid, grab hold of his forearm as Sid held the sphere in front of his eyes, mesmerized by the violence inside. Sid was clearly surprised at the speed of Eli as Eli guided the hand back to the resting position, sphere still in Sid’s hand. No words were exchanged. Sid understood, our first lesson, was to wait.
Eli returned to the front of the classroom and withdrew a sphere of his own from the soft, brown leather pouch on his chest. “This sphere is the single most important piece of equipment you will receive. It is your lifeline. Do not lose it.” Without further dialogue, Eli gently tossed his sphere into his workspace in front of him. The lightning erupted from within, striking Eli in the chest. Instead of flooring Eli, a brilliant, almost translucent ceramic armor began growing from where the lightning had struck. A moment later, the previously hairy, gorilla-like figure of Eli, was now clad as a hero prepared for war. The armor was off-white, translucent, ceramic-like in appearance, with an electrifying blue current coursing through it, undoubtedly bearak. The bearak coursing through the armor gave it a rippling, fish scale-like appearance. Near the neck line, appearing to almost hover within the armor itself, a ghost stamp of the same triangle symbol rested. The armor was compact, tight to Eli’s body, though it did not appear to be restrictive. It fit snugly to his chest and shoulders, ending below his diaphragm, leaving a small gap between the armor and his beltline. His thick, black braids rested gently on the shoulders. The armor stopped at the bottom of his shoulders leaving the biceps and triceps exposed, however, it then continued down his forearms, ending at his wrists. At his waist a belt had appeared with a buckle of an unknown type of forged metal, with the triangle floating within it. His thighs and hamstrings were armor free, though an ornate tassets hung from the belt, royal blue in the center with an off-white trim. Underneath the cloth appeared to be an ultra thin, chainmail skirt hanging loosely, stopping well above the knees, allowing for maximum agility. The armor continued at his knees, shielding his calves and shins, ending at his ankles. Ridges protruded just slightly in perfect places as if designed to protect from incoming strikes. These ridges could be found on the shoulders, diagonally facing inward across the chest and upper back, along the ribs, on the bone side of the forearms, at the front of the shins, and along the sides of the calves. His once soft leather sandals were now replaced with a far more sturdy sandal.
Despite being shorter than the Malakh, Eli was already an intimidating figure. Nervous, sideways glances proved the addition of the armor had made each of the Twelve incredibly uncomfortable, aside from App perhaps. He had initially appeared interested in Eli’s equipment but was now staring at the sphere in his hand, mind deep in thought. Ripped from his thought, App jolted, having not noticed Eli had extended his hand diagonally towards the ground behind him as if preparing to grab hold of a rolling suitcase. A deep vibration suddenly filled the room, fading as quickly as it started, however, the source of the vibration was abundantly obvious as Eli now held a warhammer. A rectangular metallic block with angled edges, bordered by matte gray metal bands, clearly coursing with bearak, was mounted to a metal handle. The handle was wrapped tightly in dark intersecting leather, with a tether hanging off the end. Eli looked up at the Twelve holding the hammer sideways, speaking of the hammer as if it were alive, said, “This is Fortitude. You will each be issued a weapon of your own at the completion of your education. For now, you will use training weapons.”
If the room was on edge before, the presence of a weapon of Doxa in the hands of Eli petrified the occupants. There were no nervous glances, no weight shifting, just eyes locked on Fortitude. A being that had looked barely above a jungle primate with a leather satchel moments ago was now in full battle attire, but this was not what transfixed all of us. We all remained locked onto the hammer because this shift had occurred from a small sphere in a leather pouch. What else was he capable of?
Seeing the system overload occurring in our eyes, yet not allowing time for any of us to process, Eli said, “Keep the sphere enclosed in your hand. Follow me,” and turned without another word, heading out the door.
We attempted to follow him out the door, though a traffic jam that would make the freeways of Los Angeles at rush hour jealous occurred at the doorway. Eli had no intention of waiting, in fact he never even looked back. Eventually our fear of Eli won over our egos and we managed to get through the door. We followed Eli across the hallway, through a doorway into another room, chairs formed a perimeter around the room, however there were no desks, or anything else for that matter, just chairs. A second door was already open at the other end of the room, Eli, nowhere to be found. We rushed across the room, poured through the door and found ourselves under an outdoor patio. Down the steps of the patio was a large grass area with a square, limestone platform in the middle. It was a platform, though it was even with the grass. Looking around I realized the school must be a giant square with rooms on the outside and inside of the hallway that wrapped all the way around the building with this courtyard in the middle. Perhaps it was the size of the other structures, or perhaps I hadn’t been paying attention, but this building was significantly larger than what it had appeared from outside.
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Eli stood in the middle of the limestone platform, his brutal war hammer nowhere to be found. He stood facing away from us staring into the sky above. While he was a fair distance away, and none of us heard or saw him yell, that same soft, deep tone reverberated through all of our minds, “Do not keep me waiting.”
All of the Twelve walked quickly to Eli’s position. Before the last of us arrived he said, “Circle,” indicating with his right index finger we should make a circle around him facing inward, to which we followed immediately. As a father first instructing his son in the use of a firearm, Eli gave clear, precise instructions, “Do not get ahead of me. Follow my command.” The moment he received a nod in the affirmative from each of us Eli said, “Gently toss your sphere into your work space, approximately one foot from your face. Now.” Without hesitation, App and I both tossed our spheres in front of us. Identical to what we had witnessed earlier with Eli, the corked lightning exploded from within the sphere striking us in the chest. Initially, fear raged within me. Regret and anxiety flooded my mind preparing for immense pain or worse, the unknown. The pain never came. Instead, an armor begging to be admired began molding around my body, and to my side I could see App working through the same experience as the triangle symbol formed on my chest. The others, seeing the results with App and I, followed suit.
Moments later, the Twelve stood in a circle, on a limestone platform, surrounded by grass, growing within school walls, seated in the heart of the city of Doxa, forever changed by this Doxian armor. The bearak cycled through the armor at extraordinary speed. I flexed my biceps, looking at my fist, stood on my toes to flex my calves, and looked around me to see the others doing the same. This armor was not only hosting bearak, but it functioned as a conductor of sorts. I could feel the bearak riding my veins like a roller coaster.
A reverberating blast yelled, “Malakh,” and in the fragile fraction of a second after the bellowing war cry, a soft, yet once again, deep tone said, “Defend yourselves.”
Violence erupted all around us. Multiple Malakh were now mere crash sites in the grass just off the platform, none of us even sure how they had been sent there. A blur moved about the remaining Malakh, and if it weren’t for two black ponytails contrasted to light colored armor, there would be no way to identify the assailant. A fist found Tabi’s jawline off to my right, sending him, unconscious, to the grass off the platform. Raf, Uriah, and Zera attempted to stand shoulder to shoulder only to find Raf being struck with a crushing Thai kick, sending him through the other two, all ending in a pile on the grass. Koka and Sid, attempting to capitalize on the momentary seemingly exposed position left by the instructor following the kick, found themselves receiving an overhand elbow strike, followed by a spinning back fist, dispensing both from the platform.
App, Ram, Ragg, and I found ourselves to be the only four left. For all the knowledge we had received at our speaking, hand to hand combat was not part of it. The four of us attempted to approach Eli all at once. Eli feigned another Thai kick at Ragg, only to move in a complete blur from in front of Ragg to his left side. Reaching behind Ragg, he grabbed hold of his long braids held together in a ponytail, dropped to one knee, savagely yanking him backwards to the ground. As Eli pulled Ragg down, App lashed out with his own attempted kick. Eli spun on his knee, meeting force with force, delivering a heel palm strike to App’s shin, a deafening crack of thunder echoed over the courtyard, sending App careening off the platform. Ram, a true behemoth of a being, muscles layered on top of muscles, charged forward as a bull charging a matador, only for Eli to sidestep in a blurry motion, kick Ram's feet out from underneath him and send him sliding head first off the stage.
I suppose it makes for a suspenseful story to remind you I was the last on the platform. Seeing how quickly the others had been dispatched, I was in no hurry to subject myself to Eli’s will. Unfortunately I did not have a choice as Eli quickly moved towards me, his feet yet again not making a sound, almost as if they weren’t touching the ground at all. In a mode of panic I attempted to strike him with my right fist, like a schoolyard amateur fight. As if my strike was no more than a minor nuisance, Eli shuffle stepped into my strike, meeting my bicep with his forearm, and wrapping my bicep with his arm. He moved his inside leg past mine, and with the ball of his foot ever so gently gliding back towards his body, the base of his calf gracefully drove into the base of mine, sending me to my back as if I had fallen off a cliff.
The technique was so smooth it almost felt slow, yet my back was the one nearly shattering limestone, and worse yet, Eli was the one standing in the middle of the platform as if attending a bird watching tour, silent, calm, and undisturbed. By the time he had eloquently driven my spine into the limestone the others had started to awaken, some even checking to make sure the injuries weren’t too catastrophic.
Eli silently slid to the center of the platform. All of us were now teetering on a knife’s edge, unsure where to move or what to say. The soft, deep voice of Eli murmured, “Malakh, circle.” Reluctantly the other Malakh stepped on the platform. The moment the last foot completed the circle Eli whispered, “Defend yourselves.” Yet again, violence split the serenity of the courtyard, and moments later every member of the Twelve found themselves lying on the grass, only to be met with, “Malakh, circle.”
App and I, from the comfort of the grass, looked at each other, neither sure where to even begin. We nodded, signaling neither had any intent to quit, and stepped back onto the platform, again, and again, and again. Each time we stepped on the platform it felt as if we could apply some of the techniques Eli had applied on previous rounds, but for every technique we learned, he had a counter, and a counter to the counter. App and I no longer attacked or defended as individuals, but always together. Sadly there is no time in Doxa, for this first training session carried on for a truly mind-numbing amount of time.
After yet another, “Malakh, circle,” I finally spoke up. One hand raised, the other on my knee, exhausted, chest heaving, I breathed, “Wait! There has to be more to this. There has to be a better way.”
It was gone before it started, but to this day I believe I saw a glimmer of a smile echo across Eli’s face. Standing back to his full height, Eli walked off the platform, and just before entering the door we had come through, said, “Follow.” We were all exhausted but we scrambled after him.
We exited the school, heading back to the west gate we had entered the city of Doxa through. The walls, the gates, the archways, the roads, the spires in the distance, all yearned to be admired, all stood in proud admiration of their designer. Instead of continuing back down the bridge we had traveled over we turned right, walking along the path on the outside of the walls. We walked in silence, Eli never turning back to see if we had all followed him. By my count the Twelve were all present, albeit exhausted. We journeyed on the path, the waters from the canals created by the River Zoe on our left, the great walls of Doxa on our right. We eventually passed the northern gate, the main entrance. It was a much grander scale of the western gate, though we did not enter it, but continued onward. We eventually arrived at the eastern gate. The gate was identical to the western gate, including a great bridge leading away, an imposing spire, bearak coursing at its peak, a ring of land full of Dynami branching off the spire, and channels of water between. It was here Eli turned left and walked down the bridge, heading away from the city, away from the known.
At the other end of the bridge a great countryside sprawled before them. The bridge ended at a high point atop a hill overlooking the countryside, the majority of the countryside descending into a lush green valley, the River Zoe visible down in its center. Prior to the descent into the valley a large stone sat. There was no path heading east, there was no golden road, or incredible structures, just open lands. Eli walked forward and took a seat on the rock overlooking the valley, breathing deeply, slowly, absorbing the beauty, his armor untarnished despite the day's training, his braids still perfectly in order. The picture before us was serene, while also a glimpse of the future in some ways. The Twelve held fast, uncertain as to their next step. Eli eventually turned to face them, waving them all in closer with his hand, then palm facing down indicated they should all sit.
Eli began, “You are the protectors of Doxa, the leaders of the Malakh, and council to Speaker. You must be able to think under duress. You will find your power far exceeds anything you can imagine, including my own, however, you must learn to be wise and master it. Today, you continued round after round, no thought of trying anything different, no thought of asking questions.” Eli stood up saying, “App, step forward.” As App stood and moved forward Eli said, “Instead of hoping that armor protects you, I want you to breathe deep and envision you protecting it. I want you to allow the bearak to not only move through your being, but I want you to harness it.” App stepped forward and stood on the rock, overlooking the valley. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His armor began to glow, the electric nature of the bearak appearing to burn like fire. I went next and one at a time we each stood on the rock, meditating for the first time, and allowing for the bearak to be harnessed in our cores.
As the last of the Twelve stood upon the rock, a soft, deep voice said, “Malakh, circle.” Without hesitation we filled in the circle. Eli said, “Defend yourselves.” The world around us descended into chaotic violence, chunks of grass and mud sprayed into the air. One by one the Malakh fell, and one by one they felt the power of the bearak coursing through them and their armor. Our strength, our stamina, our ability to absorb strikes was incredible. It was no wonder Eli had made such quick work of us before. In time though, Eli wore each of the Malakh down until it was just me and App. I feigned right then moved to the left, leaping into the air, drawing a would-be devastating strike to the upper torso from Eli, however, as a baseball player stealing second, App slid underneath me, striking Eli across the shins with the bottom of his foot, causing Eli’s strike to miss me, and Eli to flip into the air. A hush fell over the Malakh as this was the first offensive contact we had succeeded in executing. App began to stand from his slide, while I delivered a downward strike to Eli’s jaw as he flew through the air. Eli began to spin due to the force of the strike, however, I noticed his right hand stretch out as it had in the classroom. Just as he hit the ground the great war hammer appeared in his hand. App and I combined had the strength to subdue Eli with this kind of a head start, rendering the war hammer useless. Using our bodies we pinned each side of his arms and legs to ensure he was unable to return to his feet or utilize the weapon.
App began to laugh triumphantly, though I looked at App, then down to Eli’s face, and back to App. Eli was not exerting himself. In fact, he appeared to have allowed this final position to happen, and a moment later he said, “Have you considered all outcomes, or have you allowed arrogance to snatch defeat from victory?” App did not seem bothered by the statement, but instead allowed the bearak to rage forth, increasing the force with which he held Eli down.
Eli, a glimmer of sadness on his face, whispered the great hammer's name, “Fortitude.” The hammer erupted with an incredible flash of light. The war hammer transitioned into a maul, but not just any maul. We would later learn, it was the Maul of Doxa. The handle alone was nearly the length of Eli, and the head of the maul was bigger than his entire torso. The metallic bands now glowed a deep blue, bearak flames leaping off precious gems imprinted into them. The leather straps were now laced with silver and gold, The force of the eruption had sent us flying, and had created the sensation of my brain being flipped upside down while being crushed like a soda can.
Eli stood as if a magnet had pulled him from the soil. He allowed a moment for us to compose ourselves and called us all forward stating, “You must be able to think. Knowledge is not wisdom. Before you assume you have defeated an opponent you must be certain that opponent has no further options at their disposal. Let us return to the classroom.” Without another word Eli began the journey back to the classroom.
App and I walked alongside each other. He broke the silence stating, “That armor, even the war hammer, those are both incredible tools, but whatever that hammer turned into, that’s something entirely different. He didn’t even use it on us, just simply said its name, and the fight was over.” I shook my head and responded, “I have no idea what that was, but we have a lot to learn.” For once, App simply nodded, and we continued walking in silence.
