Date: Fri, 31 Aug 2001 16:50:40 EDT
From: Faradhi269@aol.com
Subject: Neriam (sf-fantasy)

*Hello.  I hope you enjoy this story.  This is the first story that I have
written that is not in first-person POV.  Tell me what you think.  I have a
penchant for sex to be incidental, so if that disappoints you all, sorry.*


				"Deep, deep within, child."

	The young teenager awoke from his bed, annoyed.  Tonight was the
fifth time this week that he'd been hearing those words while he slept.
Raking a hand through his mop of sandy hair, he tried to shake the sleep
from his light blue eyes.  At least he wasn't getting beaten for sleeping
late and missing his morning chores.  The Voice made certain of that.
	His eyes narrowed.  Could it actually be one of the Masters toying
with him?  Almost immediately he discarded the idea.  No, the Master
Teachers at the monastery have always frowned on two things: violence and
sorcery.  To most of them, that included forcibly entering someone else's
mind, even while they're asleep, using their own mental abilities.  Then
what?  He shrugged his thin coarse blanket from his slender shoulders.  The
air was cold against his bare chest, but he ignored it.  Having only
recently attained the rank of Student, he wouldn't be allowed to wear much
more.  A light pair of short pants, sandals, and a loose linen shirt for
the winter, no more.  And complaining would be less than pointless, but
probably set him back.
	He slowly made his cot, slipped on his sandals and went down the
several flights of cold stone steps to perform his chores.  Now, as a
Student, he had to make breakfast with his fellow Students for everyone in
the monastery of Araman-the Novices, Students, Initiated, Enlightened and
the Masters, who ran the monastery.
	Upon entering, the large cavernous kitchen, he spotted his best
friend, Mordeth amongst the other Students.  Several of them were tending
to the roaring fires in the baking ovens the size of small barns, while
others were bringing vegetables in from the garden.  Mordeth stood in the
center, so Neriam couldn't miss him.  Unable to exchange words together
until after they broke their fast, the two broke into enormous smiles and
exchanged a quick hug, loudly clapping each other on the back.
	Mordeth was the taller of the two, and bulkier as well.  He stood a
full head taller and weighed two or three stone heavier, but as he was also
three years older, the difference didn't seem all that awkward to either
one of them.  He had always been bigger than Neriam.  Mordeth's dark hair
was cropped short on his head, and his light green eyes always showed
amusement, even when he'd get punished for some deed or another.  And he
*was* always in trouble.  Whether playing pranks on the Initiates or the
Novices or skipping his chores, he was always in trouble.  Neriam smiled at
that thought.  Actually, he was the only person in the entire monastery
that had ever given the Masters no choice but corporal punishments as
methods of correcting his behavior.  Still he was highly exuberant and God
seemed pleased with him anywway, since the bruises healed nearly overnight.
He had the constitution of an iron bar, and he knew it, so he never lost
the amused, smug look in his eyes, despite the difficulties he'd face.
	Now, however, the eyes were focusing on the multiple jobs he had to
perform.  Today was his day to be in charge of the kitchen, under the
watchful eye of one of the Enlightened.  Besides needing to instruct the
others, he was cooking rice himself.  Luckily for him, he was well-liked
among his friends, so the directing effort was not too trying for him.  Yet
he had to remain focused, and so after the hug, he merely pointed his
friend towards some vegetables that needed chopping.
	Nearly an hour later, the sun was rising and the long tables in the
dining area were heavily laden with clay bowls filled with rice and
vegetables, freshly baked bread, and garnished apples for the desert.
Leaving the kitchen for the Novices to clear when they completed their
household and outdoor chores, the Students joined the others silently at
the tables.  Breakfast was eaten in silence before everyone rose to attend
their duties.  The Novices left for chores, the Students and Initiates met
for classes, and the Enlightened and the Masters left to pursue their own
studies.
	Mordeth rose, cleared the tables -the result of a prank two days
ago- and joined his waiting friend for the first lesson of the day.
	"So Neriam, what's the problem," he inquired as the two of them
trotted off to the practice field.  "You looked pale this morning.  Come to
think of it, you've been looking rather peaked all day.  What's going on?"
	Neriam resisted for a few minutes, but Mordeth kept pushing for
information.  "Damn you, why won't you leave me alone," he complained.
	"I will when you answer me," Mordeth replied good-naturedly.
"What's the problem?"
	"I didn't sleep well."
	"Again?  How many nights is this now?"
	"Five," Neriam answered shortly.
	"Five nights, eh," Mordeth wondered.  "Since your birthday, then?"
	Neriam was quiet.  "I guess so," he said eventually.  "I haven't
really thought of it, although I guess I should have, now that I look at
it."
	Mordeth opened his mouth to say something more, but they arrived at
the field and had to draw silent.
	"Ah, Mordeth, Neriam.  So good of you to join us," Master Adane
said jovially.  Both of them stopped and stared.  This elderly, kind man
was the primary weapon master of the monastery.  Although not very tall and
with closely cut white hair on his head, Adane had trained nearly every
person in the monastery in the use of weapons for the last forty years.
His face, weathered and craggy, always had a smile, and his muscles bulged
in places others didn't even know muscle existed.  "As I was saying,
Enlightened Damne is, er, indisposed..." some of the Students sniggered as
he went on, "...so I will be taking over all of his lessons for a while.
Now let's see..." he looked over the faces of the waiting students.
"...who's next for staff training today?"
	Everyone took a step back, eliciting a small smile.  "Come now, I
won't hurt you," he promised.  "Neriam, come along.  You're first."
	Mordeth watched as his young friend found a suitable staff-around
four and a half feet-and faced off against Master Adane.  Not for the first
time, Mordeth found himself wondering about his young friend.  Neriam stood
around 4 feet tall or so and was amazingly thin.  His sandy blond hair was
a little shaggy, coming down over his eyes in waves.  He held his staff
uncomfortably, the thin wood looking almost the same size as his tiny arms.
But Mordeth saw the muscles in his friend's arms bunching.  They might not
have been as big as his own, but all of Neriam's muscles showed: his chest,
stomach, shoulders and arms, and they were solid despite their size, as
Mordeth knew well from training with him for the past several years.
	Adane sized up his new opponent.  He'd been watching over Neriam
since he'd been delivered to the monastery thirteen years ago.  The boy had
been left at the door of the Order, and Adane-the brother who'd found
him-for the first five years then had raised him.  After that, Neriam was
entered into the ranks of the Novices, still two years younger than the
rest of them, and was left to fend on his own as the other Novices would.
Neriam had grown well, and although he would never be as big as some of the
others, he could already outmaneuver most of the Students and Initiates,
and even some of the Enlightened.  But he was uncertain of his skills.  He
felt self-conscious in so many ways especially being smaller than the rest
of his friends, less developed, and just now going through the awkward
stage between boyhood and manhood that the others had already settled into.
Still, he had held up well.  Now he must be tested.  The Enlightened who'd
been training Neriam had informed Adane of the boy's recent condition.
Since Neriam had never been sick before, the information concerned Adane,
so he decided to take a closer look.  Despite his apparent lack of
interest, he cared deeply for the boy.  Whirling his staff end-over-end in
a half-hearted effort to discourage his opponent, he watched closely to see
how they boy would react.
	Neriam took his staff and readied himself into a defensive stance,
left foot forward, the left end of his staff aimed at the throat of Master
Adane.  Adane paused, and held his staff in front of him, front point down.
He then attacked with a blurring combination of overhead attacks.  Neriam
lifted his staff in a cross block, but on the third strike, Adane knocked
the staff from his hands and then spun the staff into the back of his legs,
sweeping him off his feet and following through with a spin.  Neriam kicked
off the ground just in time to avoid a staff strike at his head, but caught
the other end in the ribs.
	Wincing in pain, he still grabbed it and held it against his left
side.  Bringing his right hand around, he brought it down, hard, on the
two-inch-thick wood, snapping it into two pieces.  As Adane came at
Neriam's head swinging his broken weapon with a horizontal strike, Neriam
split his legs and slid to the ground, pointing the sharper end of his
short weapon at Adane's groin, forcing him to stop his forward momentum.
The rest of the young men pulled their knees together, bent double and
groaned, clutching themselves in empathic agony.  Adane laughed and raised
his weapon in a salute.  Sliding his legs back together, Neriam rose and
bowed.  Walking stiffly over to Mordeth, Neriam sat down to watch as Master
Adane obtained a new staff and faced off against the next Student.
	Adane won the next three battles easily, but he seemed pleased with
everyone's progress.  With a big grin Mordeth rose to test.  He LOVED
combat training.  Facing Master Adane, he was nearly eye level and held a
staff just as large and heavy as Master Adane did.  His much larger and
more obvious muscles glinted as a slight beading of sweat caught the
morning light.  As Adane blurred his staff low, Mordeth jumped to bring his
attack high and avoid Adane's attack.  With both ends of his weapon passing
under Mordeth's jump, Adane rolled out of the way and brought his staff in
front of him vertically to block the attack and, quicker than the eye could
follow, slammed the point down, bringing the other end in a vertical block
against his back.  Just in time, it seemed, as both Mordeth's attacks were
foiled.  While taking advantage of his speed, Adane kicked Mordeth in the
chest.  However, he barely moved even after such a strike.  Instead, he
stepped forward, making Adane bend his leg and lose his balance.  Mordeth
swung his staff at Adane's rear knee, toppling him to the ground.  Holding
out his hand to help out his teacher, Mordeth lowered his staff in respect.
Adane accepted both the gesture and the hand, brushing the dust and small
bits of old grass off his chest before facing off for another lesson.  He
won the rest of them, though some of the students fared better than others.
When all the Students had fought against him, he wiped the sweat from his
forehead and turned to address his pupils.  "Why did I lose today?"
	"You let them win," asked one of the classmates.
	Master Adane smiled.  "No.  Not at all.  First of all, anyone can
beat anyone else at any given time.  Skill will adjust the odds in one
favor or another, but it is quite possible.  Anyone else?"
	There were uncomfortable murmurs.  For the first time anyone could
remember, Adane looked stern.  "You should all know the answers to these
questions.  I was beaten two ways.  Neriam, do you know one of them?"
	Looking embarrassed, Neriam glanced briefly at Mordeth and replied,
"He was stronger than you, and you didn't expect that.  It wasn't just the
strength difference, it was the surprise."
	"Correct.  But why should surprise make a difference?"
	"Because you lost track of your objective for just that barest
moment, giving him just enough time to beat you."
	"Again, correct.  And the other way?"
	"I have no clue how I won.  Lucky, I suppose."
	Master Adane sighed and shook his head.  "Anyone?"
	He waited a few moments without receiving an answer.  "I was
outsmarted!  I had not fought him before, overestimated my abilities and
was unprepared for his, well, outlandish maneuvers," he shouted.  The
Students, including Mordeth, all flinched.
	Adane shook his head again.  "I am quite disappointed.  All of you
will go muck out the stalls and relieve the Novices for not knowing such
important and basic information."
	In shock at the harshness of the punishment, the Students all rose,
bowed, and silently moved toward the stables.  But Neriam stayed.  "Master
Adane," he protested vehemently.  "That is not fair!  Enlightened Damne has
been training us!  Isn't it the teacher's fault if his students lack
knowledge?"
	Adane's eyes blazed.  "Student Neriam," he barked, "you go far
beyond yourself to criticize an Enlightened in front of a Master.  You must
trust that I will deal with him.  I am aware of who teaches you.  And more
importantly, I am aware of what you should know, no matter the teacher.
That knowledge is very basic and very important.  You may never know when
it is needed.  Best to be prepared for the worst.  Now, as for
punishments...ah!  You will be the one to teach the young Novices to swim.
Today.  AFTER you muck out the stalls, mind."
	"WHAT? WHY?!" Neriam screamed.
	"For not controlling your temper.  And you will sleep outside after
swimming tonight.  You must start the fire yourself and use what has been
taught to you to survive.  Anger clouds both the mind and body.  Now go."
	Nearly boiling over, Neriam whirled around and stalked off to help
the other Students in mucking out the stables.  Adane shook his head sadly.
The boy had never displayed a temper before.  The thirty or so young men
were cleaning the horse dung out of the stables with the experience gained
from years of practice.  The brown, sloppy liquid exuded fumes that would
have left them dizzy and disoriented if they had not been taught how to
hold their breath for long periods of time.
	Afterwards, everyone went to fetch water to heat for some baths to
clean up.  However, Mordeth stayed with Neriam when he noticed that the
younger boy was not following.
	"What is it," he asked.
	"I need to go teach the young Novices to swim."
	"You're kidding me!"
	"I'm afraid not."
	"Why are you doing that?"
	"Something about controlling my anger."
	"What did he mean by that?"
	"I don't know.  If you'll excuse me," he replied, irritated.
Without waiting for an answer, Neriam moved off toward the river.
						***
	"Why did you do that, Adane," High Master Teramon, the head of the
monastery of the Holy Justice demanded.  "That boy was placed in our care,
and you will kill him!"
	"I beg to disagree, Master Teramon," Adane responded.  The two of
them stood in the office of Master Teramon.  It was the only well-furnished
room in the entire building and was used for meetings with contributors and
patrons.  The wood walls and floors-at least, those that were not covered
by tapestries or silken rugs-glowed a reddish-gold hue in the light of
several scented braziers and the roaring fire in the fireplace.  The two
men were sitting in comfortable, padded leather seats.  Once again, Adane
felt uncomfortable in the splendor of the surroundings, being more
comfortable in his own Spartan room.  "I believe that the boy will become
very cold and uncomfortable, but it is not yet deep enough into the winter
to be lethal.  I understand that he looks thin and weak, but I assure you,
he is made of sterner stuff.  He is very much like his friend Mordeth in
that regard."
	"Mordeth," snorted Master Teramon.  "That boy is more trouble than
he's worth!"
	"Again, I must humbly disagree."
	"Explain."
	"I believe I may have found my successor."
	"Excuse me?"
	"They boy has the best natural talent as a fighter that I've ever
seen."
	"He has no discipline, he has no respect for the rules of the
Order.  He cannot possibly teach other students.  What would happen if they
obtained his lack of respect?  I will admit that he has the potential to be
great, but it is impossible to let him have that authority."
	"Yet, despite all that, you cannot deny that our Lord holds him in
very high regard."
	The aged monk lowered his head.  "Yes.  It does seem that way.  But
that has yet to be proven in a quest.  However, we have changed our
conversation from Neriam to Mordeth.  We can discuss him later.  Neriam is
the issue here.  I still want you to go to him tonight and bring him back
to the monastery.  I would not override your punishment openly, but tell
him that I have summoned him.  It is a danger to leave one of his
importance in such a position.  You should realize that."
	Adane began to protest, but Teramon raised a hand, silencing him.
"I will grant you a concession, however.  If it does seem that the boy is
doing well on his own tonight, leave him be and let him return tomorrow."
	Adane rose and bowed.  "As you wish."
						***
	Neriam waited by the river.  The sun was already beginning its
descent from the center of the sky.  He sat on the bank of the river, at
the shallow bend designated for the teaching of the Novices.  After rinsing
all the filth off of his legs and arms, he waited in the sun, grasping the
little warmth that it offered him.  Closing his eyes, his mind began to
wander.  He began to wonder about the Voice, and what it said to him.  His
anger at the current punishment flared in him, and despite his attempts to
remain calm, his face contorted into a frown.  It was so unfair!  Why in
the nine Hells did Master Adane punish him so hard?  He didn't do anything!
At that thought, he didn't even feel the cold anymore.  The warmth of his
anger flooded through him, and he felt the reddish glow fill his mind.
Moments later, the young voices of the new Novices approached his position.

	When the young boys-all twenty-three around six or seven years of
age-saw the look on Neriam's face, their conversation immediately ceased.
"Listen up.  You are all here to learn to swim.  How far have you gotten in
your lessons so far?"
	"Uh, this is our first lesson."
	Neriam waited patiently.
	"Uh, honored Student."
	"That's a little better.  Now, is anyone missing?"  They all shook
their heads.
	"Very well.  Now, remove your clothing at get into the water.  Go
in as deep as you feel comfortable.  For most of you, the water should come
up to around your shoulders with your feet staying on the bottom."
	Excited, they all removed their cotton clothing and ran into the
water, squealing as the cold water tingled their legs.  "You will be
quiet," Neriam roared.  "To control your body is part of the test.  You are
not only being trained how to swim, but how to deal with the cold."
	Blue and shivering, a dark-haired youth muttered, "Easy for you to
say.  You're not in the water."
	Neriam looked right at the boy and wordlessly disrobed, entered the
water, and swam out to the center of the river.  Diving under the water, he
held his breath and sat on the slightly warmer bottom for a few moments
before returning to where the dark-haired Novice stood.
	The boys screamed as Neriam grabbed the leg of the boy who had just
spoken and pulled slightly, ducking his nose briefly below the surface
before rising himself. The young boy's eyes were wide in shock and
confusion.  Neriam looked at the rest of them.  "He knew the first lesson:
don't breathe under the water.  Good start."
	The boys stared at him in shock.  "Do we understand?"
	Quick nods.
	"Good.  Now, let us try this: each of you take as deep a breath as
you can and lower yourselves into the water."

	The rest of the lesson passed smoothly, and in dealing with the
children, Neriam lost his anger.  They had such exuberance and enthusiasm
that a few of them managed to swim a few feet, and he grew proud of their
efforts.  Dismmissing them when it began to get dark, Neriam went on shore
to find a safe place to shelter for the night.