The Zombie Reaper

A foot struck a cheek.

The older man worked his jaw, rubbing his thumb along the bruising skin. “Well placed,” he conceded. “But you have to remember, you cannot aim so high. To do such a thing, while impressive, just throws you off balance. If you happen to miss, it gives your opponent the perfect opportunity to strike you back. It is especially a fool move if you're fighting more than one person.”

“Yes Brother Thomas,” Lynuel said bowing his head. He knew the rule. It was one he had been told several times in the past. But he never seemed to remember such practical advice when he was fighting. A kind of natural instinct took over him at those times and all he could do was go with what felt natural. In this case it had been a very high kick. Straightening from his stance, Lynuel bowed to Father Thomas. “Thank you for the lesson,” he murmured.
Father Thomas shook his head. “We're not quite done yet lad,” he admonished. “I'll have another round with you. Neither of us holding back.”

Lynuel's cheeks started to glow softly as a flush covered them. “You realized?” he asked a little anxiously.

“Even Henry should have realized that you were holding back,” Thomas pointed out with a rude noise. “Marcus will learn in time,” he assured the boy with a nod. “Now, come at me with all you have. I want to see what we're all made of. Not what we do in the sparring ring every day.”

The younger male nodded in agreement. If they wanted to see what he could do than he would be glad to give a demonstration. It had actually been a long time since he had completely let himself loose when fighting. After all, there was something about it that always made him cautious. A sense that he needed to hold back or something might happen.

Taking a deep breath, Lynuel allowed almost every muscle in his body to relax except for the ones necessary to keep him standing. His face became expressionless as he shifted his weight onto his front foot. He had no intention of being defensive. That had never been in his nature. From a very young age, he had always known that he had to attack first because if he didn't, than he was going to be the one who lost.

He waited until, in some way, he could hear, at the barest edges of his senses, he could hear Thomas telling him that it was time to fight. The words seemed to have a slow kind of echo to them as he launched himself forward. He threw his right elbow forward, putting all his momentum into the limb. A hand slapped down on his arm and he found himself spinning, using the momentum to twist his body and slam the elbow towards a vulnerable side.

He hit nothing. Only air met his elbow as he stopped himself, sliding his right leg out and putting enough pressure to keep him from spinning even more. He looked up at Thomas, his face still blank. He watched, almost absently, as Thomas sized him up carefully before making his next move. The older man began to circle slowly. Lynuel remained still, forcing his muscles to remain loose instead of stiffening. He closed his eyes, focusing all of his attention on hearing. The footfalls were soft, almost nondescript.

A foot slammed into the back of his left knee. He went down onto it allowing his body to continue to fall forward until he was holding himself up with his hand and swung his right leg back at his attacker. His ankle and lower calf made contact with a solid bone, maybe another ankle. His leg bounded back from the other's limb. It was a good strike. It was vibrating through him and surely it was vibrating through is opponent, he just had to move first.

Using his hands, he shoved himself back up to his feet and continued with the momentum, flipping his body, legs tucked to his chest before his face was turned once more to the mat. He thrust her legs out and found himself making contact with a chest. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips for a moment before he found himself back on the ground, his face going blank once more.

Arms wrapped around him and he found himself jerked from the mental state of the fight he had been in. His eyes were wide as found himself being picked up from the ground and then slammed into it with the larger mass on top of him. It seemed like an eternity before the body rolled away and he found himself simply lying on the floor and growing.

"Did you have to do that?" he moaned not even sure the words had come out intellibably. He wasn't even sure he was able to think correctly. He wasn't really sure of anything. His head was reeling and his breathing was still unsteady at best. He had forgotten that Father Thomas was bigger than him. Than again, he hadn't expected the man to make a move quite like that either. "Did you have to do it quite that like?" he asked again forgetting the first time he had spoken.

A snort came from one of the other men who had been watching. "I think you rattled his brains with that last strike Father Thomas." He wasn't quite sure who had spoken. The words still had a kind of echoing quality to them and the quality didn't seem to want to fade either. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears. He could only focus on his breathing. He didn't want to move. Actually he didn't want to think at all. That required too much effort. He just had to breath.

He allowed the steady in and out of the air to calm and soothe his system. He wasn't sure how long he lay on the ground, his limbs bent at some awkward angle or other. He simply breathed until the pounding faded away into nothing. Only then did he start assessing the damage that the body slam had done to him. He had to admit that Father Thomas had played him well. The man had thought ahead when he had decided to let Lynuel do all the moves. He hadn't expected the other man to actually be able to fight back. Perhaps he did need to learn a bit about backing off and studying your opponent. It was something, he wasn't about to admit out loud, that he had never done.

"You did well lad," Father Thomas said from somewhere nearby.

"Would you like to help me roll over?" Lynuel asked still facing the mat. He didn't have the strength to flip over and at the moment he honestly didn't dare try either. It didn't seem worth the effort and in all honesty, the idea seemed a little stupid to try on his own. The Father would know better how he fared after all.

"Of course lad." There was a rumble of laughter from the older man and Lynuel couldn't help but feel a little bitter at the sound. The boy who had always gotten into fights and so easily won did not wish to be looked down upon by any man, especially not a man who had just bested him with a body slam of all the things that could possibly be in the world.

"Must he laugh?" he asked as he felt himself being gently rolled over onto his back. He groaned as his muscles moved and stretched in ways that they clearly did not wish to. "Did you have to be so merciless?" he asked.

He peeked an eye open to watch the man and found him shaking his head. "I'm not laughing at you lad," he assured him. "I'm but laughing at a memory. I remember the time when I myself was in this position. I was quite the scrawny youngling when I came to be an initiate at the Order. I thought I would never survive," he explained. "Well...we see how things change." For a moment, Lynuel could have sworn that he heard something almost wistful in the other man's voice.

"Father?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, well, as for the sparring, you must understand. Your enemy won't go easy on you. They won't play by the rules. Though you already know that. And God knows you show enough promise to match a hundred ordained fathers."

The familiar flush flitted over his cheeks and Lynuel found himself looking away. "But there's something missing isn't there?" he asked. "Why did I lose?"

"You don't watch," Thomas explained easily. It was clear he had expected the question which made Lynuel wonder just how much alike the two of them actually were. "You see boy, you know how to fight. You could well have beaten me but for one little fact. You take too much upon yourself. You only attack and strike. You don't watch or study your enemy. You think to stop them by merely continuing to strike over and over again hoping that by doing so you will prevent them from ever striking you, but as you found..."

"That's not possible," Lynuel finished with a sigh. "Yes, I did notice that," he agreed. "Thank you for the spar Father. The lesson was very informative."

He felt arms reached under his limbs and found his limp and sore body being pulled up into the air. He looked up at the other man in shock. "Father?" he asked quietly.

"You're in no condition to be going about on your own," the man explained. "Besides, it's best I explain to the medics why you're like this rather than have you go limping in there on your own. They'll have my head," he pointed out clearly not very keen on the idea of the medics being displeased with him. And considering many of the medics, by choice, also worked in the kitchens, Lynuel couldn't blame Father Thomas for feeling that particular compunction.

"Of course, thank you... again Father."

Father Thomas nodded. "Now get some rest lad. We'll discuss it more later. For now we'll just need to see you back to health. After all, we have to be ready to move at any time and as you are now..." the man trialed off.

Lynuel couldn't argue that thought. He was currently in no condition to do anything. It wasn't a point of pride he could admit, but it was a truth and honestly it wasn't so bad, it was just a fact he had to accept. He was in no condition to fight. He just needed some rest.

Maybe some food.

Mostly rest though.