Goren Janarie sat on his bunk. There was one tattered blanket and a flat pillow. It had been a tough morning on the island. Many warlings had failed in the days challenge, including Goren. But a few, like Folind Vanare and Vicri Holind, despite the difficulty of it all, had succeeded. That day the warlings had to go through an obstacle course without the ground at their aid. Then they dueled their partner, trying to get the upper hand. Goren, though being a level nine, had been demolished by a level five. The level tens, those who had been on warling island for ten years, would be moved to the war in Odisen in almost a month. Goren had a year till it was his turn, but it was still intimidating, especially because all his hard work, training and studying had yet to pay off.
Goren’s good friend Lanarin Nomonick walked through the old wooden door.
“How did you do in the challenge today? I lost my duel, mostly because my partner got to the ring before me.” Lanarin said in his speedy way. He always seemed to have lots to say, but he could be a good listener too,
“I lost my duel too.” Goren replied sadly,
“Oh. Well I can’t wait till we are level tens, they’re the coolest. I wonder if we will walk by Xzalie mountain on the way to war when we are tens, that would be awesome, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Goren said quietly, He used to live near Xzalie mountain. A young Goren Janarie had been unwillingly recruited by the warling army at the age of thirteen. Goren had wanted so badly to stay with his poor mother, father, and little sister Tolie, but he had been denied. Nine years had passed since that sad day, but the pain of it all had numbed slightly over all the hard years. Warlings were trained for ten long years until they were deemed ready for war.
“Time for supper!” A voice called from the building where they ate. Goren, Lanarin, and the rest of the men made their way over to the dining building. Some even broke into a run. If you were one of the last to finish your meal you had to help clean up the dirty hall. Goren didn’t usually run because he quite enjoyed being last. Then while he cleaned up he could escape the torcher of individual level training where all the level nines trained together. This meant that he would stand out even more. As he reached the building, he sadly realized he had started to run a while ago and was now one of the first there. He couldn’t go back now, there was no cutting, even backwards.
“How come you are near the front on this day?” Calurmen the servant called from behind the counter, “Don’t you like being last?”
“I do, I just ran without realizing it.” Goren said as Calurmen put a potato with some pork on top. Goren found a clean table, well, clean for warling army standards, near the back of the room. He started to eat. In not to long Lanarin sat down by Goren,
“Hey, I have news. The kitchen decided to start a clean up schedule because they don’t think it’s fair that you have to clean every lunch. So you’ll be with us at level practice today.”
“That’s just great, do you realize how humiliating it will be?” Goren responded, “Do you remember last time I was in level training?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah, everybody remembers. I somehow broke two swords and got my arm in a sling. Everybody wants to see it again. I would not be surprised if they all bribed the kitchen staff to help me, “not do as much work”. This is just great.” Goren resumed eating, his rant complete. They ate in silence and walked back to the cabin, if you can even call it a cabin, to start level training.
As they got to the door, many soldiers sarcastically welcomed him back to training.
There were about five-hundred men per level, so each level split into ten groups. Each group was located in their own cabin. The cabin was probably about one-hundred by three-hundred feet. Rows of beds filled the whole cabin, except for a small ring in the center. In level training you had to duel in that ring, if you stepped out of the circle, you lost. You also lost if the other player was in a position to capture or kill you. The men made two lines throughout the cabin ending a few feet from the ring. The soldier at the front of each line put on chainmail, a helmet, and grabbed a sword. They stepped into the circle.
“On your marks, get set, GO!” The fight began, the player in the red tried and failed to push back the one in the blue. Blue escaped by running to the side of Red and bumping him out of the circle. It was a shorter duel than usual, but the quickness usually depended on who was the most skilled in the sport. The duels lasted much of the afternoon and the line slowly moved forward. At last it was Goren’s turn to duel. Lanarin gave encouragement from the line Goren came from. Goren was dueling Ramid, one of the average warlings.
“Ready, set, go!” And they were off. Goren tried to corner Ramid but somehow Goren was pushed back as if a strong wind was in the tent and Ramid took his chance, he got his sword in the position that counts as winning. With difference of talent comes a quick duel. Goren had lasted longer than usual, though it was still a very short duel in general. He sadly took off the chainmail and helmet and handed them to Lanarin.
“You did great,” Lanarin said, “And you tried hard.”
“I’m not a kid, I can take loosing again.” Goren said, going to the back of the line. Getting annoyed at Lanarin came easily to Goren, much of the time he had a grudge on him for silly things. Part of it was just how calm and perfect Lanarin seemed to be all the time. Goren decided to shake it off. If he got good sleep that night, maybe he wouldn’t be cranky in the morning.
Goren walked to the back of the line. He looked at the ground, not wanting anyone to see the shame on his face. He should be used to it by now, but Goren always hoped something would be different each and every time he dueled. But this wasn’t a fairytale, this Goren knew. He tried to suppress the disappointment and the hope for next time. This was life, Goren knew he needed to get used to it.
Cheering sounded from the center of the room, Goren looked to find Lanarin pinning Donik, the best level nine. We have a winner!” Someone called from the other line. Even Lanarin could have his miracle, why not Goren? Lanarin made his way over to Goren, getting pat on the back after pat on the back.
“That was amazing!” Lanarin said excitedly, “Did you see that?! I never thought I would ever win playing against Donik!”
“That’s great Lanarin,” Goren added sadly,
“What? Oh, sorry. I should be more careful of what I say repeatedly, though I am not fully sure if being exited is wrong.” Lanarin said thoughtfully,
Goren sighed, he was too sensitive, and Goren himself would admit it, “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t get frustrated at that. It’s just hard not to.”
“Understood, but enough of that, let’s watch the rest of the duels.” Lanarin gestured to the crowd in front of them who were cheering loudly, Goren and Lanarin were in level training for about an hour and a half more, and it was hard to believe he was able to spend that whole time cleaning.
The soldiers made their way over to the field for the full army training. A rings were set all across the field for dueling. On either side of the field was a large rectangle spanning from one corner of the short side to the other nearest it. Lanarin liked to draw the field. Goren didn’t understand why, but he often watched the drawing form while they had free time, which wasn’t often.
“Everybody find a partner!” A voice yelled, that loud gravely voice belonged to Lieutenant Berklend, “If you aren’t quick enough, you will be assigned one, so I suggest you do as I say.”
– Goren and Lanarin decided to be partners and found one of the circles. Lieutenant Berklend wasn’t necessarily mean, but he was sometimes strict with his soldiers but today seemed like a good day for the Lieutenant. Once all the soldiers got in pairs they were ready to begin.
“On your marks, get set, go!” The Lieutenant yelled for all to hear,
Goren and Lanarin began. Lanarin slowly shuffled Goren to the edge of the ring and again the wind blew him backward, this time landing him out of the ring.
“You’re so good at this,” Goren said, “Did you notice any wind?”
“No, why?”
“It’s nothing,” Goren continued, but whenever I duel a feel a strong wind pushing me at just the wrong time.”
“Are you sure you’re not imagining it?” Lanarin asked, confused,
“I suppose I am.”
They dueled, until It was time for supper. The wind kept bothering him but there was nothing he knew to do. Lanarin and Goren ate supper and walked back to the cabin. It had been a long day on the island and Goren wanted to get lots of sleep. He usually trained during the night, but not that night. Goren drifted off to sleep thinking about his family back home.
The door of the cabin flew open, waking Goren, Lanarin, and the others. Vicri stepped inside. “There has been a change of plans. We are losing the battle in Marshina, levels nine and ten will leave to the war in an hour.”