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From: cgirard@metz.une.edu.au (The Blade of Malchrntyne)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [T&R] Genesis of Timelord: Part 5
Message-ID: <1849@grivel.une.edu.au>
Date: 31 Aug 93 07:45:16 GMT
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	Timelord had not seen the Priest of the Trial in the shadows
of the grove, but the Image of Force he projected certainly
reminded him.  Without the Priest there was no Trial; Timelord
had just discovered how integral a part he played.
	Narikiro advanced again, sword held in a reverse hand grip. 
Timelord backed away carefully, being alert for attacks from the
warriors around him.  Narikiro began to swing the sword in front
of him, slashing through the air to the left and the right as he
continued to move slowly towards Timelord.  He began to move more
quickly, increasing the rate of his slashing at the same time.
	Timelord realised that unless he did something soon he would
be in a fully fledged panicking run from Narikiro.  He quickly
formed a plan, knowing it would require split second timing, and
waited for the moment to strike.
	Timelord seemed to stumble, and as he fell, his hand reached out
and grasped a flaming brand from the bonfire.  He then lunged forward, 
thrusting the torch into Narikiro's face.
	Narikiro seemed startled by this sudden turn of events, and in 
that moment of hesitation, Timelord moved in, kicking Narikiro's sword
from his hands.  With a footsweep he had the Swordmaster down, with his
own wakizashi pressed to his throat.
	For a moment there was silence.  Then Narikiro smiled.
	"You have done well, Aspirant," he said, "but always remember.."
	A sudden shifting of his weight, and Timelord found himself
flying through the air, landing ungracefully several feet from Narikiro.
	"..never let your guard down," the Swordmaster finished.
	Timelord rose to his feet, and bowed to Narikiro, who returned the
gesture and turned to face the assembled warriors.
	"Thus have you witnessed this man pass the four stages of the
Testing," his voice rang out, "and I deem him ready to join our ranks.
What say Ye?"
	"HIE! HIE! HIE!"

			********************

	The swearing in ceremony was held three days later in the main
temple of the High Lord.  Timelord and the four others who had past the 
testing knelt near the alter at the front of the temple, wearing only
loincloths, with their katanas supported unsheathed on the palms of their
hands.
	Many nobles were gathered to witness the ceremony, and the High Lord
himself knelt in the front row of the gathering.  There was complete silence,
broken only by the priests' chanting as they purified themselves and the
initiates for the ceremony.
	The Priest of the Testing then turned to face the initiates.  His 
voice rose and fell in the formal cadences of the ages-old incantation as five
of the underpriests moved to stand in front of each of the kneeling warriors.
Each held a velvet cushion on which rested a single leather gauntlet.
	At a command from the Priest of the Testing, all five swords slowly
rose in the air, turning as they did so until their points were resting 
against the initiates hearts.  The underpriests then held out the cushions,
and Timelord joined the others in reaching out to take the offered glove.
	As Timelord slipped the gauntlet over his right hand, he could feel
the pride, the honour, the duty that membership to the Grey Regiment involved
wash over him from the assembled throng of people.  Once the glove was in
place, the sword that had been hovering in front of his chest flipped around,
the hilt dropping into his outstretched hand.  He and the others then turned
and laid their weapons before the High Lord, bowing low to the ground as they
offered them their fealty.
	The High Lord rose, then touched each of them once, lightly, on the
head.  A cheer rose from the assembled nobles, and Timelord stood with his
fellow members of the feared Grey Regiment.

	The barracks to which Timelord and the other new members were assigned
were built against the north wall of the compound, around one hundred yards
from the High Lord's main palace.  There were around fifty others in the same
barracks, with the more experienced warriors living closer to the High Lord.
	In total the Grey Regiment numbered around 150 men, taken from all
regions of the High Lord's domain.  A few, like Timelord, were freed slaves,
but most of the members were from warrior families loyal to the High Lord.
The island was around 300 miles across at its widest point, and was surrounded
by several smaller islets.  The land owned by the High Lord was one of the
largest settlements, and he controlled two of the four other major clans.
	The Grey Regiment was far from ceremonial, despite the power of the
High Lord.  Other feudal lords were in direct military opposition to the 
High Lord, and although they did not pose any immediate threat to his power,
he had long since learnt that strength and position relied heavily on one's
military might.
	And those of his allies.  As a result, detachments of the Grey 
Regiment were often sent to guard the caravans of loyal nobles as they
passed through areas renowned for treachery and ambush.  Thus it was that
three months after his initiation Timelord found himself part of a guard
detailed to protect a small caravan of Lord Tananauki as it returned to his
home fiefdom.
	Timelord was somewhat nervous as he rode next to one of the covered
wagons, for there had been reports of some bandits working near this stretch
of road.  He was alert for trouble, though, and as they neared the end of the
journey, he wondered if the reports had been false as nothing had troubled
them at all.
	He leant forward to pat his horse's neck when he heard the twang
of several bowstrings from his right.  Instinctively, he half-slid from
his saddle, dropping his body below the back of his horse to shield himself
from the arrows.  Several whistled through the space his body had occupied
moments before, burying themselves in the side of the wagon.
	Timelord dropped to the ground as war cries resounded from the 
nearby bushes.  His drew his katana and stepped free of his horse as the
first of the assailants burst from cover.
	It was easy to see by their unkempt condition that they were ronin
who had lost all vestiges of honour by turning bandits.  They charged forward,
and Timelord felt no pity for such dishonourable men.
	Several of the guards had been felled by arrows, and the remaining
eight rushed forward to meet the attack.
	Timelord easily parried the first few strokes from one bandit, then
felled him with three precise cuts across the chest and stomach.  He then
ducked under a wind swing, and ran that one through the chest.
	Several more guards were down, for as Timelord looked about he saw
that there were at least two dozen of the attackers.  Without pausing he
leapt into the fray, shouting the war cry of the Grey Regiment.  He swung
his katana with icy precision, sometimes using his opponents own blade to
guide his strokes.  He fought his way to the side of his companions, and so
the six of them faced off against the remaining eighteen.
	Six heroes were born that day; three lived to receive the accolades.
When the battle was over, those who survived had all been injured, but their
enemies lay slain at their feet.
	Timelord's arms were shaking with tension and exhaustion when the
battle was over and was lightly cut in half a dozen or so places, though not
seriously.  His remaining two companions were somewhat worse off, with Munasha
leaning against a wagon, his face white from blood loss.
	They tended their wounds as best they could, helped by Lord Tananauki's
servants.  The bandits they left where they fell as a reminder to others of the
penalty for such lawlessness, but their fallen comrades were placed reverently
into wagons to await proper burial.
	The final short leg of the journey was uneventful, and upon arriving
at Lord Tananauki's residence, Timelord and his fellow surviving warriors were
taken immediately to the temple for their wounds to be attended to.  When they
were again fit to travel, they returned to the High Lord's palace and the praise
of their fellows.
	As Timelord had been recovering in the temple he had time to contemplate
the battle.  Although he knew that it was his duty to kill in the line of duty,
and that the bandits had indeed deserved to die for their actions, he still 
felt uneasy.  The ease with which he had killed his foes surprised him somewhat,
despite the meticulous training, and he worried that he may become too 
accustomed to the slaughter.  As he sat meditating, he thought back on the
teachings of the greatest warrior the island had ever seen, recorded 
meticulously in his book "The Sword and the Ink".   That warrior had killed
over a thousand men in his lifetime, yet was the loving father of seven children
and an accomplished poet.  The teachings in that book, of balance and destiny,
calmed Timelord's mind.  He resolved never to be wielded by his own sword, but
to remember always the circle of life and death, and the place he held in each.
	Timelord's prowess in battle soon caught the eye of several of the
commanding officers of the Grey Regiment, and he soon found himself in the
barracks of the more experienced and skillful warriors.  There he was quite
regularly called upon, along with others in the group, to fight in the service
of the High Lord.  Sometimes they were just brief skirmishes, a quick 
exchange of blows and then a retreat by the attacking foe.  But often they
were full blooded battles, with victory to the Regiment only after the total
destruction of the others, and Timelord began to wonder why the High Lord 
should be under such constant attack.
	He asked one of the other that night, a man called Yasha who had been
with the Regiment for five years.  He listened to Timelord's question, then
shrugged.
	"All powerful men have enemies," he responded, "and the High Lord is
a very powerful man.  Besides, there is always fear and unrest in the country.
You have to expect these things."
	"But I thought that the High Lord had absolute rule of the countryside,"
said Timelord, "and that the commoners obeyed him from love of who he was, not
fear."
	"We do not question these things," said Yasha, looking intently into
Timelord's eyes, "we obey.  The High Lord's words are truth; to this we are
sworn."
	Timelord nodded, and Yasha laid a friendly hand on his shoulder before
they settled down on their sleeping pallets.  Yasha's reply hadn't entirely
satisfied his question, but he accepted it for now.
	It would not be long before he would question his motives again.

	By the end of Timelord's first year in the Grey Regiment he had
progressed through the ranks until he was a member of the elite guard, the
most trusted and feared of the High Lord's personal guard.  As such he duties
included guarding the High Lord on his infrequent trips from the palace, 
performing ceremonial guard duty at the doors to the throne room, and protecting
visiting lords as they met with the High Lord.
	He found he had generally more time to devote to meditation and 
practice, although there were occasional small battles when protecting other
lords as they traveled to and fro.  Timelord honed his technique and mental
powers, often practicing his katas with soft music playing in the background.
	One day in late summer Timelord was sitting in his barracks reading
some books of ancient poetry when Captain Pyloasi called in to pay a visit.
Timelord looked up when he heard someone at the door, then grinned when he
saw who it was.
	"And what do you want, you old rogue?" Timelord asked his friend.
	"Hah," replied Pyloasi, "that's no way to talk to a superior officer!"
He sat on the bunk opposite Timelord.
	"Actually," he said more seriously, "I wondered if you'd like to join
me in a trip to the weaponsmith.  I'm picking up my new sword today."
	"New sword?" asked Timelord, his curiosity growing.
	"Aye," replied Pyloasi.  "It'll cost me a year's wages, but it's 
worth it."
	"Count me in!" said Timelord.  He rose, pulling on his leather
gauntlet, and the two left.

	It was market day in the town, so there was quite a large crowd
in the streets.  The two warriors had no problems making their way, though,
as the people moved out of the way to let them pass.
	Upon arriving at the swordsmiths they were shown into the main
lounge where they waited for a few minutes.  When the Master Swordsmith
arrived they rose and bowed, then sat again as the Swordsmith prepared
tea.
	"Your sword is ready, Pyloasi," said the Swordsmith as they sipped
their tea.  "It is sharpened and polished, and waiting for you to test its
edge."
	"I am honoured," replied Pyloasi, bowing, "and await your earliest
convenience."
	"Then let us drink tea and proceed," said Pyloasi.

	As they moved to the back rooms of the Swordsmith's workshop,
Timelord was wondering to himself how the sharpness of a sword was tested.
Still pondering, they came to a courtyard at the rear of the workshop.

	Several students of the Swordsmith were there, but Timelord's 
attention was drawn immediately to the five men hanging side by side from
their wrists on the center of the courtyard.  They were dressed in rags,
with numerous scars on their bodies, causing Timelord to assume they were
criminals of some sort.  As he examined them, Pyloasi tapped him on the
shoulder.
	"What do you think?" he asked proudly, holding a sheathed katana
up for Timelord's inspection.
	"Very nice," Timelord replied, noting the fine work on the hilt
and scabbard.
	"Of course," said Pyloasi as he belted the sword about his waist,
"and now it is time to test the edge."
	He walked forward until he stood a few feet in front of the hanging
men.  A cold realisation began to dawn upon Timelord, rooting him to the
spot.  Surely he couldn't be going to...
	Pyloasi drew the katana smoothly, brought it once about his head,
then slashed outwards in a vicious horizontal arc.
	The keen edge sheared its way through the captives, severing them
at the waist.  One moment they were alive and whole; the next, all five
had been hacked in half, their torsos still hanging by their wrists, but
dripping blood and intestines onto the ground.
	Pyloasi grunted in satisfaction, then turned to the Swordsmith.
	"A truly fine edge, Master Swordsmith.  I am in you debt."
	"Of course you are," he replied with a smile, "at least, until
you pay for it!"
	They laughed, then moved back inside, Pyloasi pausing only to
clean his sword before sheathing it.  Timelord followed, his mind blank
at the horror he had just witnessed.
	Pyloasi noticed his friend's white face, and threw a comaradly
arm about his shoulders.
	"What's up, my friend?" he asked, still smiling.
	"Those men, you just...I mean, they were.." he stammered.
	"Them?" Pyloasi looked confused.  "They were criminals, only fit
to die.  At least this way, their miserable lives were used for a good
purpose."
	"But what were their crimes?" Timelord asked, the colour slowly
returning to his face.
	"Who cares?"  Pyloasi was no longer smiling.  "That is the way
of the world.  We have the power, and the commoners know that.  We do
what we want, and what we want is right.  That is the way it has always
been.  Haven't you learnt that yet?"
	With that, he walked off.
	As they returned to their barracks, Timelord had recovered from
his shock to notice those around him.  Again they moved out of the way
of the two warriors, but this time Timelord looked more closely at their
faces.  None of the commoners looked at the two for more than a few 
seconds, but Timelord saw fear in every face; fear not out of respect,
but naked, raw fear of the nobles, the warriors, and the absolute power
of life and death that they held over those surrounding them.