Perdadu

Sparring

The staff clanged against the spikes of the opposed staff. Almost immediately she pulled it back and spun around, continuing her momentum. She lashed out with another hit, which he expertly blocked as well. Switching tactics, Ishita swung the Khana Staff around her head, causing her opponent to take steps back while parrying. 

Grabbing hold of the staff further up, Ishita pulled the weapon close. She began to jab at her opponent, who began his own spinning of his Khana Staff, rhythmically parrying each jab expertly. He glared, stealing glances backward as he was pushed further backwards by Ishita’s assault. He lowered his stance, bringing himself lower to the ground. He picked up his pace, swinging his staff faster and quicker. His hands moved further down his staff, increasing his range. He dropped to one knee, stopping dead and he picked up the pace of his practiced swinging.

This caught Ishita off guard. He caught her mid-jab and her staff was pushed to the side. She used the momentum to complete a spin and lash out, but he was already ready with a parrying blow. 

He capitalized on his move by suddenly jumping from his knee and swinging his staff below him in a fluid motion. Ishita barely jumped over the staff. He leaped from his kneeling position and attacked again, pushing Ishita back.

Now it was Ishita’s turn to take steps back as he expertly lashed out at her. Staffs swung through the air, every so often striking one another. They twirled and spun them around their own bodies in practiced motions.

Until he jabbed. Ishita saw his thought process before he had even made it. He diversified his attacks from the left and the right to get her in the pattern of blocking one side then the next. When he adjusted and jabbed out, she was already spinning to make him miss. As his staff passed her stomach and harmlessly hit air, she brought down her own in a stunning show of momentum. One of the spikes at the end of the curved staff caught one of his, and the staff was wrenched from his hands.

With one final spin, Ishita brought the butt of her staff backwards, and it slammed firmly into his back. He let out a small cry, before squinting and grasping at his back, giving out a pained hiss.

“Damn, Matthai, I am not actually your enemy,” whined Harmon Gibson.

“You need to take these things more seriously,” said Ishita, “Our trial is tomorrow.”

“And I do not need to go into it with a new set of bruises,” said Harmon, “I don’t need you taking my eye out with one of those things.”

Harmon walked to a water canteen he had nearby. He plopped down next to it, sitting cross legged and he began to drink heavily from it. Ishita held her Khana Staff in her hands. Around them in the training room many people continued on their training. Two men viciously sparred with Shashki Scythes, their weapons scraping together so hard sparks flew from them. In a far corner, a beginning class was still learning hand to hand combat, and the instructor was teaching the class with a student volunteer. In the opposite corner, another class were cross legged meditating for a cool down. A single man did yoga, holding his body with his arms as his legs stretched into the air. Ishita and Harmon were in the center of the room on one of the two mats saved for Shilambam training with Khana Staffs.

The Khana staff was a tall shepherd's staff. It was made of hardened wood and curved at the top, bringing its height to around six feet tall. Along the curve, metal spikes jetted out from it, making it a formidable weapon. The goal with the staff was to control your enemies distance from you while attempting jabbing and grappling attacks. A skilled Perdadu could disarm an opponent with this method. However, most combatants attempted to just club their opponent off the top of the head.

Ishita wiped the sweat from her brow, joining Harmon on the mat.

“You are getting better,” said Ishita, “I wouldn’t worry about your trial tomorrow.”

“I am worried,” said Harmon, “I am not a great warrior like the rest of you. I am screwed.”

“You know what the Guru is always saying,” said Ishita, “Perdadu is not the same as a great warrior. A Perdadu is so much more than a great warrior could ever hope to be.”

“Not in the Imperial Army,” said Harmon, “If I am to lead, I will need to do so by example.”

“You will be great, nobody is more ready then us,” said Ishita.

“Except any man who lives or breathes,” came a voice from behind them.

Ishita sighed, rolling her eyes. She turned to see two more recruits standing behind them. Initiate Owen Joshi stood behind her, a smirk across his face. Behind him a few new Initiates had entered the training room and were stretching on the mats behind them.

“I see you finally showed up to training today, Owen,” said Ishita.

“I have been drilling all day,” said Owen, “That is, on the skills that matter. We were at the rifle range all morning and now we come to spar.”

“I don’t think the trial will involve firearms,” said Harmon, “Isn’t it centuries old? I was told it would be very traditional.”

“When you are on the battlefield against savage demons or the enemies of our lands they won’t take time for you to pull out a shepherd's staff or your sidearms,” said Owen, “The future of Paorr and Araz will be decided by rifles and artillery. A hundred demons with the best swords and spears known to man are nothing against a solid unit with steam powered, mechanized guns and a well practiced sharpshooter.”

“That is such a narrow minded vision of the future, Owen,” said Ishita, “Combat is not always on your terms and even the best machine malfunctions.”

“Hold your tongue, wench,” spat Owen, “I will not be lectured to by a woman. The only training you should be preparing for is for the kitchen and the bedroom!”

Ishita sprung up, grasping her staff with white knuckles.

“That’s pretty tough talk from a low mark student,” said Ishita, “Perhaps a round on the mat will show you a different perspective.”

“It would be below me to honor your challenge,” said Owen, “You do not belong here. Look around you.”

“I’ll bash your face in,” said Ishita.

“Initiates,” cried Harmon, “Infighting is not the same as sparring. We should let our trial results do the talking. Guru Padhi always says-”

“Guru Padhi has lost his sight for the glory of a true Pardadu,” Owen said, “Guru Bhater knows that a Perdadu is only as good as his prowess on the field of battle.”

Owen looked Ishita up and down before finishing, “And the size of his manhood.”

“Then I would think you have much catching up to do, Initiate Joshi.”

Owen and the two young men behind him suddenly stood straight, their faces going blank. Ishita understood immediately, also stiffening. Harmon sighed and saluted from his cross-legged position.

“As you were, Initiates,” said Warrant Officer Ashton Poddar, stepping into view from behind Ishita, “Don’t go stiff on my account.”

Ishita turned towards the Warrant Officer. He was in full uniform; an officer’s Keppi in his hand, a brilliantly clean khaki tunic with matching pants. A belt where a service revolver hung. Ishita’s eyes narrowed at his pair of crisp officer’s shoes, still on despite walking on the mat. She refrained from rolling her eyes once more. Military buffoons like Poddar didn’t bother with the customs of the Perdadu despite clearly marked signs at the doors.

“I can’t help but feel the need to remind you all the enemy is across the sea,” said the Warrant Officer, “But as I’m sure this little row of yours was only meant in jest, I expect you to be moving on with your registered training exercises.”

“Yes sir,” said Owen and his crew together, “I believe Initiate Gibson and Ishita Matthai were just leaving.”

“Would care to run that by me again, Private,” said Poddar, his eyes narrowing on Owen.

“Initiate Matthai, sir,” said Owen, “It was my mistake. She is a woman, sir.”

“In training fatigues,” said Poddar, “I might have a word with your officer, Initiate. Perhaps a full eye exam before tomorrow’s trial will ensure you don’t miss that in the future.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Owen.

“Dismissed.”

Ishita turned and collected her things from beside the mat, taking a swig from her canteen. She had scheduled time at the course for the day before her lesson and she wanted to be fully prepared for her trial tomorrow. Warrant Officer Poddar, however, was quick to follow her, standing rigid in front of her.

“Initiate Ishita, I hoped to have a word with you.”

“Of course, sir, how can I help you today,” said Ishita.

“Oh, come now, at ease,” said Poddar, “And you’ve been told before, it’s Ashton to you.”

“You are in Uniform Warrant Officer,” said Ishita.

“Ah, but we are at ease, are we not?” smiled Poddar, “Besides, I want to check in on your big day tomorrow.”

“I am looking forward to it,” said Ishita.

“As we all are, I assure you,” said Poddar, “The famous Trial, huh? The Gauntlet! We are all very excited.”

“I see,” said Ishita, “Well, my training continues on. If there’s nothing I can help you with.”

“Dinner,” said Poddar, taking a sharp breath in, “Perhaps a dinner, with me. If you are interested with that. I so enjoyed the last time you dined with me.”

“That was delightful, Ashton,” said Ishita, “But I must decline. I have much to study tonight and with the trial tomorrow.”

“Oh, certainly,” he said, “I wouldn’t dream of it. I hope you will consider it soon, however? After the trial, I mean. Your time should free up considerably.”

“True, at least until I head off to the Officer’s Academy for my tactics and leadership training,” said Ishita, “But I think it would be too early to make such plans.”

“Too right, shouldn’t get your hopes up too much,” said Poddar, “That’s only if you pass your trial.”

Ishita looked away from him, sighing, “When I pass my trial. I do not have the date for the graduation or the dates of the start of the officer’s training.”

“Of course, I meant when you pass,” said Poddar, “I guess we’ll take the guesswork out of it tomorrow.”

“I should hope so, but I feel there isn’t much guesswork there to begin with.”

A tall man approached the pair. He wore training fatigues, like the rest of them, but he wore a Sergeant’s insignia on his turban. He stood tall, his muscles showing through his shirt. His skin was much lighter then many around him, making him most likely from the Northern part of Greater Kantebury. His eyes seemed to glare at Ishita, and they hopped back and forth between Ashita and the Warrant Officer. The man saluted the Warrant Officer, but didn’t wait for his return salute.

“Excited for the big day tomorrow as well, Sergeant?”

“Salute your superior, pork rind,” spat the Sergeant. 

Ishita was quick to go stiff, giving a salute to the man. However, he did not return it, and left her standing in the salute as he addressed the warrant officer.

“I am excited. Tomorrow’s trail is the final strainer, separating the pure from the impurities. It ensures we’re not just letting any sap into the Perdadu and it ensures only the best serve under the holy title.”

“Then I am sure under your training,” said the officer, who motioned for Ishita to stop saluting, “Initiate Matthai has nothing to worry about.”

“On the contrary, I would think Initiate Matthai,” the sergeant saluted her finally, allowing her to finish saluting, “Has more to worry about than anyone. I fear after tomorrow she will be left sorely disappointed.”

Poddar frowned, “Sergeant Veerha, I would hope as a training sergeant here you would be competent enough to train your students to the best of your abilities.”

“My abilities are not in question,” said the Sergeant, “I am a seasoned Perdadu trainer. It is that very training that has taught me that it is a waste of time to expect much of soldiers who are lacking between the legs, metaphorically and literally. There is no place for such a Perdadu.”

He turned to Ishita, a devilish smile spreading across his face. Ishita did nothing. Sergeant Yad Veerha hated her. He had somehow been assigned to a large portion of her physical training over the years and he was extra hard on her. She knew he had made it his mission to make her quit or hospitalize her at every turn. Sure enough, she had spent many days and weeks in the infirmary due to his overzealous approach to her education. However, she never let him win.

In that time, she had learned to hold her tongue.  He ensured acts of defiance or disobedience were rewarded with hospitalizations. He had also fought for approval to bring floggings back as a punishment, no doubt for her benefit as the years stretched on. Now that she was so close, she knew she had to take whatever he decided to dish out. Only then could she truly hurt him, but succeeding tomorrow.

“What do you think of that, Miz Matthai,” spat the Sergeant.

“I think tomorrow will be my trial and my actions will speak volumes,” said Ishita, “Hopefully my expert training will reward me.”

“We shall see,” smiled the Sergeant.

“And if not, I wouldn’t worry too much,” said Poddar, “I’m sure they will understand. Seeing as your trainer is one of the few Perdadu to not make an Officer’s position.”

At this, Veerha’s jaw tightened. His eyes seared into Poddar’s, who met them with a cool poison only one who was raised in luxury can procure.

“Well, unless I can help you further, Sergeant,” said Poddar, “I’m sure you are very busy.”

Without saying another word, Sergeant Veerha turned and stormed away, leaving Poddar smirking to himself.

“What a brute of a man if I must say-”

“I apologize for the abruptness, Ashton, but I must be heading on,” smiled Ishita, “It was good to hear from you again.”

“The pleasure was all mine, please,” said Ashton, “Continue with your training, Ishita. I look forward to tomorrow.”

Ishita patted Harmon on the shoulder and smiled before heading off to her next training session.

Ishita was fast. She enjoyed running and the feeling of her heart and the burning of her lungs. She did not enjoy the wailing of her body and the soreness of her back as she went through the Perdadu Agility Course here at the Temple of Horbabad. Since the temple was one of the largest and oldest locations where the Perdadu trained their Initiates it had some of the oldest and most traditional training techniques in Jhardhandi. 

The Temple of Horbabad was centuries old, filled with gardens and training rooms and classrooms of all sorts. It held an amazing public, open air bath with a system of hot springs that provided a delightful soak. The gardens grew plants and trees of all sorts, carefully cultivated to display the full array of Jhardhandi’s flora. It housed a massive temple of worship broken up into areas for the public, for trainees and initiates, and for Guru’s and priests. It also housed some of the oldest training systems used in ancient times. No one remembered what warriors trained here under the guidance of the ancient monks, for at some point in a war lost long ago the Perdadu rested here, and trained farmers willing to learn in ancient and forgotten fighting techniques.

Now it sits as a shining traditional jewel in the crown of the Kantebury Empire. Here rested some of the most traditional training facilities next to the most state of the art ones. At its heart was a secretive series of trials and puzzles and unknown obstacles known only as 'the Gauntlet'. No where could you find a map of it. No records were kept of its construction. Every soul who entered it swore an oath of secrecy, and nothing was known of those who broke it. Several initiates died every time a class attempted it, and many more were injured, some so badly their career would end.

But completing the trials within would win any man the title of Perdadu. Any man would become the envy of any Military unit. They would be more valuable than any treasure to a family name. They were worth more then any vote to a politician. It was a rank more important to the king than any general could hope to obtain otherwise. They were the knights of the very crown they fought against generations earlier. They were the heroes of every story every little boy ever heard growing up.

And tomorrow, Ishita Matthai was going to challenge everything it stood for. Her academic marks were too good to ignore. She passed every physical test of strength and agility. She was proficient enough at every weapon she put her hands on. They could not turn her away. She had not been the first female to become an Initiate, but after years of training, she would be the first to go that far. Now she ran the agility course for the last time before her trial. She would be the first female to actually take the trial.

She ran and leapt over another hurdle. In a few steps she quickly leaped 2 foot steps up an incline and jumped across a chasm to swing an artificial vine onto a rope swing. 

The agility course was designed to ensure a Perdadu could traverse any situation. Movement would never hold one back. Swinging, climbing, running, swimming, all encompassed in over of the most grueling courses designed in Jhardhandi. Ishita was far from the best at it, and she was well aware the trial would involve quick movement and would push your physical abilities to their limit. 

With a thrust of her legs she launched herself into a downward incline. She allowed herself to fall into a roll to prevent twisting her ankle and she sprang to her feet at the end. She let out another breath.

“Matthai,” came a voice of another runner.

Initiate Ghordi Rhaman approached her. He was covered in oil and was wiping his brow with an oily rag.

“Lesson will start soon,” said Ghordi, “Have you thought about your gear?”

“My gear?” said Ishita, “Everything of mine is good to go for tomorrow.”

“Make sure your enemies have not sabotaged you," said Ghordi, "The trial will be hard enough.”

"I haven't stopped thinking about that,” said Ishita.

“Trial is tomorrow,” said Ghordi, “Do you want me to look it over before the lesson?”

“No, I will need to bathe,” said Ishita, “And I have to go all the way to the ‘women’s bath’. I will need to leave as soon as possible to make the lesson.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Ghordi.

“I am capable of taking care of myself. Now I must go to not miss the lesson,” said Ishita, “I will go now and meet you there.”

With that, she ran to get her stuff and jogged across the compound to bathe. As she ran, she saw many robed Perdadu walking around, humming hymns in groups. A few training Initiates marched in lines through the wide halls, with watchful sergeants drilling them all the way. A merchant's cart made its way through, a fat oxen pulling it along behind him. A few Perdadu officers were chatting outside of one of the cafes, speaking loudly and laughing as they did so. 

As she jogged through she could see some of their conversations die. Men pointed as they whispered at her. Even some of the women who worked at the temple seemed to watch her with great interest. She ignored them. She had to learn to ignore them. She knew some watched in disgust, but others watched with intrigue.

Being one of the only female Initiates, her barracks was not a traditional one. Away from the majority of the men’s barracks, it was tucked up next to the small Ghaza pens of the temple. As she jogged past, she smiled at a few of the Ghaza there. One was very small, roughly the size of a cow. One of the females had given birth over the last winter, and the temple celebrated heavily for the newborn calf. 

The female dorm was right up next to the pens, specifically in a converted shed where they used to keep the tools used for disposing of Ghaza dung. It smelt faintly of feces at all hours, and the current place they kept the dung was not far off. When it rained, the smell could practically suffocate Ishita. Worse still, the ‘woman’s bathe’ was a closet in which they moved a small bin into. This bin was once used for storing some of the dung, and Ishita speculated when women Initiates were not here was still used for that purpose. The size of the shack would leave her to speculate there had never been more than two women in training at any one time and she was certain the abysmal accommodations were a factor in why so many left the Perdadu order for the normal military.

However, Ishita remembered her grandfather’s stories and tales of his time in the military. She should not get accustomed to any sort of luxuries, as many of her surrounding initiates would be doing. If she were to see combat, there would be no warm water, no hot springs, and no beds. The smell of Ghaza dung would be heaven compared to the smells of death and decay in war.

So she Soldiered on. She never showed her unhappiness or discomfort. She never was caught holding her nose and she never uttered a complaint. She never reported her fellow Initiates for flinging fresh dung so it splattered her walls.

She grabbed her robes for the lesson and headed for the ‘women’s bathe’.

Lesson's Learned

Guru Gunadhya Padhi was by no imagination a young man. He grew into his age masterfully and wore it proudly. He began to slowly slump over to a point where his walking cane was shortened. His eyebrows looked like the fur of a snow creature pasted to his brows. He had only begun two years prior, but his beard now grew to his stomach and, sometimes, had to be tucked into his belt. 

He still retained his public speaking voice that commanded attention. However, even on this day he was losing the attention of his pupils. Ishita could see it herself from where she sat. Guru Padhi was teaching, today, about ancient practices of soil rejuvenation and he was poking through the remains of a potted plant’s soil to do it.

All around him, however, students had drifted off or were making gestures to one another. Owen sat not far away, and he shot Ishita a dirty hand gesture when he caught her eye. Harmon sat not far away, taking notes without much enthusiasm. Ghordi tried to work on some gadget below his waistline in a way so a giant potted plant came between the Guru’s eyeline and his project. 

The Guru stopped suddenly, and sighed. He looked around, his large eyes scanning the room. Much to his own disappointment not many of the pupils seemed to have noticed.

“I think soil and plants are not a topic the room feels important enough this day?” he asked the room, this catching the attention of a few more.

“Apologies Guru Padhi,” came the voice of a student who yanked himself awake, “I suppose the trial tomorrow has us gripped.”

“Ah, yes, the Gauntlet,” said Guru Padhi, “A series of trials which shall decide who among you will be bestowed ‘Perdadu’.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about it, oh Guru,” said Owen, “Any advice we have not heard yet?”

Guru Padhi let out a soft laugh. Such a sound snapped the attention of any student still not with the class and the room shifted uncomfortably.

“Joshi, if there is something you need you have not yet heard then I am afraid you may not have been paying attention.”

“But the trial is the most important thing in any Initiates life,” cried another student.

“Then you will surely fail,” said Padhi, gesturing to the class, “How can it be true if the Gauntlet is not even the most important part of your training here.”

“Is it not?”

Guru Padhi gave a loud sigh. He walked, slowly, back to a stool sitting not far off, and he lowered himself down upon it. He looked at the class with great interest.

“Nobody truly knows how the gauntlet came to be,” said Guru Padhi, “But a monk who lived long, long ago began to build a series of tests for his masters. He was not right in the physical body, but his mind soaked all their teachings and forms.”

“The first Grand Guru,” said Owen, “Grand Guru Aslaham.”

“So they say,” smiled Padhi, “Grand Guru Aslaham was the first to beat its challenges. No, it was a man by the name of Ulrand Gupta Palwal. He was a damaged man who lost the use of his legs, so it has been passed down to me. He was mocked by his monk brethren and was not allowed full fellowship into the monastery. However, he worked hard and gave his life to this temple. One day, he petitioned to construct a training course like many that used to fill this temple.”

A wave of whispers saying “The Gauntlet” filled the area as many students said it together.

“You see, Ulrand Gupta Aslaham believed himself to be a great monk and a worthy opponent, and believed some of his brethren to be pig-headed simpletons.”

A wave a chuckles spread through the group, and Guru Padhi smiled with them.

“Ulrand Gupta Palwal wished to design a challenge in which you needed your brain and your soul to align with your body. After being allowed to build it, he constructed what we now know as the Gauntlet with the help of only four other monks. When it was completed, Grand Guru Aslaham went inside, and came out victorious.

“For sixteen days he held competitions challenging warriors, monks, and peasants to complete the challenges. For sixteen days, all failed. It was until an elderly monk, one who had been cast aside due to his frailty, took the challenge, and he succeeded. 

“For generations the monks learned from the teachings of Grand Guru Aslaham and this older monk, until one by one they began to have students and fellow monks complete the challenge.”

“Until the war,” said a boy sitting not far off.

“When our forefathers fortified the monastery in the war lost long ago,” continued Guru Padhi, “And the first Perdadu began to train here. They learned from the monks. They incorporated their teachings and exchanged techniques and weapons. The simple farmers and shepherds were taught spirituality and reading and writing. That is when the first Perdadu took the challenge. They began to use it for recruits and adapt its teachings.

“Many generations have passed, and the war has come and gone. The Perdadu and the Kantebury military have worked together to strengthen the empire and establish the Perdadu we know today. With that came changes to the Gauntlet.

“Now, Initiates, it is an important step in a Initiate’s training. The Gauntlet represents everything we are. It attempts to combine the mind, the spirit, and the soul. It will test your training and your knowledge of our ways.”

The room was quiet, but students fidgeted in their seats.

“But… what can we expect?” said Owen.

“I cannot tell you what you will find,” said Padhi, “But what you can expect is to be pushed to your limits. Your body will ache. Your mind will be tested. Your very instincts will be activated.”

“But that’s not helpful to us,” said Owen, “We have been told this since learning of the Gauntlet.”

“And is it less true?” asked Guru Padhi, “What you wish for is a map, is it? Is that what you will expect? A map through life?”

“Guidance, Guru Padhi,” said another Initiate, “Something we are admitting to not knowing and looking to our elder to provide. This way we will succeed where others have failed.”

Guru Padhi gave a sigh and thought a moment, before straightening his back and saying, “When you find yourself at a dead end, and do not know where to go, meditate for as long as necessary. There are no time limits, and sometimes you’ll be right on top of the key the whole time, and not know it. Many souls have lost their lives in the Gauntlet, but do not despair. Your training, your lessons, everything about your time here has been leading up to this moment. Allow your instincts to take over. Lastly, and the most important piece of advice I can give you-”

The class was tense in anticipation. Every body leaned forward to hear him. Ishita found herself actually sitting at the edge of her seat like an enthralled audience member at a play. Guru Padhi looked to each pupil, ensuring he had their attention.

“-is,” he said at last, “to complete your assignment on the legend of the Bachaav.”

All at once the pupils gave out a moan. Ishita looked in surprise to her other students. Guru Padhi still let out a small chuckle at the reaction.

“Gauntlet or no Gauntlet, your studies are still important,” said Guru Padhi, “And this could be your last chance to complete your assignment without a sore body and a broken soul.”

Guru Padhi continued to laugh as he glanced at his class hourglass. The multicolored sand hourglass was nearing its end, and he gave it a forceful shake to hurry along the sand.

“It appears we are close enough to the end of class,” said Guru Padhi.

At his words the Initiates leapt to their feet, grabbing their things and rushing from the room. Guru Padhi spun around to shout after them.

“I was not playing a prank about that assignment!” shouted Padhi behind them, “Legend of the Bachaav is very important! I will not think twice to demerit any Gauntlet victors who overlook your classwork!”

Ishita rose, gathering her things as well. She had learned to allow the class to go first to avoid additional shoves and ‘accidental’ trippings in the rush to leave the garden. With Owen and his crew riled up, she was not interested in any injuries.

Guru Padhi had his eyes locked on her, already, and she could sense he wanted a word. Without waiting to be summoned, she approached him and gave a respectful bow, one he returned in kind with peaked hands.

“Very perceptive, Initiate Matthai,” said Guru Padhi, “I did wish a word with you about your readiness for tomorrow’s trial.”

“I am ready, Guru Padhi,” she answered, “I, for one, enjoyed the lesson.”

“You are ready?” said Padhi, “And enjoyed my lesson on dirt? You must be very skilled or immensely arrogant on the eve of your trial to be enthralled by soil.”

Ishita allowed herself a smile. Guru Padhi could not be lied to, even if you did not know you were lying. He gestured to a cushion not far off, and Ishita politely accepted the seat. She looked up to see his eyes already meeting hers.

“You doubt your abilities,” said Guru Padhi, “You have allowed the words of those around you to seep into your clothes and your skin and your soul.”

“I am just as good as any other Initiate,” said Ishita.

“Only just as good?” asked Padhi, “Are you like any other initiate?”

Ishita sighed, looking down to the floor.

Guru Padhi sighed, “I do not care for it.”

“I am worried about my performance,” said Ishita, “I truly believe I am as ready as any other initiate but if any other initiate fails they do not ruin the chances of thousands after them.”

“Ah, I see,” said Guru Padhi, “You carry a torch brighter than yourself. You are afraid if you were to stumble, you would leave others in darkness.”

“I just feel certain classmates of mine do not need to succeed as much as I need to succeed.”

Padhi nodded his head in understanding. He began to draw in the dirt with his cane idley. 

"Do you feel your superiors do not wish to see you suceed?"

"It is not my place to speak of such things."

“Then permit me to speak,” said Padhi, “As it is my place as Guru. A sickness lays Paorr stricken. Frozen in time. I see it as it is. It will take the strongest people to lead us out from underneath its shadow.”

Padhi coughed for a moment before reaching for a small flask and sipping from it.

“Those people will be strengthened and well practiced in climbing the tallest and most grueling of obstacles. The kind of obstacles one does not climb if they sleep in a warm bunk and take baths in the luxury of a heated spring,” Padhi stared intently, demanding Ishita's eyes to meet his, “Only then, will someone be able to cast a light in the darkness. Can you do that, Initiate Mathai? Will you be the one who casts light in the darkness?”

“I want to be,” said Ishita, “But what General counts casualties before a battle?”

Guru Padhi gave a wet cackle, “Initiate, the kind of Generals who you will be under for some time. The kind the Officer’s Academy will sculpt you into.”

Ishita smiled at Guru Padhi, “They haven’t met the daughter of Khula Mathai.”

“Ha,” barked Padhi, “That they have not. Go along now, Initiate. I believe you would do well to get to your assignment.”

“Thank you, Guru Padhi, for your belief in me,” said Ishita, standing to her feet, “I try not to let you down. Your faith in me as helped me get this far.”

“That assignment, Initiate,” said Padhi, “Is the legend of the Bachaav.”

Guru Padhi stood next to her, squeezing her arm for emphasis, “I can count on one hand the initiates who will go into their trial with such an assignment complete.”

Ishita smiled. She nodded to the old man before leaving.

“Than I shall complete it.”

“Than you will be prepared,” said Guru Padhi, “And I foresee a bright future, Initiate.”

Ishita nodded to him, before leaving the garden and heading for the mats. She needed to find a suitable sparring partner if she was going to get extra training done before supper.

Preparation

Ishita Mathai scrunched her eyes once more. When she opened them everything was foggy and she had to wait a moment for the work bench to come into focus again. She had a bunch of materials in front of her and tools lined the walls. However her attention was on the old tomb sitting open in front of her as she scooped rice into her mouth.

Opened was a beautifully colored page of a legend. The first letter of the page was masterfully painted and the depiction of a man with turban and farmers clothes on top. The story was the 'Legend of the Bachaar'. She had no interest in it, but the Guru was right. If she did pass her trial, it was not the last step to graduation, it was just the hardest. She still had her day of meditation and the blessing of her instructors in her studies. No matter how she passed the trial, she would still need Guru Padhi’s blessing to graduate.

So she opened the large book and turned her attention to the legend in front of her.

It read:

There lived a man of great skill and courage. He lived in the valley and was the envy of other men. His muscles were plentiful, his legs carried him great distances at great speed, and his quick wit left him the joy of many and the bane of others. He gladly took any maiden he wished as his looks could not be denied.

Ishita sighed as she shoveled a fork full of rice into her mouth. A few grains were spread across the book, and she shook her head. Her eyes rolled at the description of this man. 

However, one day there was a maiden who denied him. This upset the man, who was not used to rejection. He pursued her for twelve days and twelve nights. He serenaded her. He wrote her sonets and poems. He completed her chores and completed great tasks to show off his strength. He bestowed many gifts upon her and her household, all to no avail.

One day, the maiden spoke with her grandmother as to how to deal with the man. The Grandmother gave her advice, that she passed onto the man. The Maiden challenged him to head north to a great and dense forest. In the center of this forest lied a great treasure. Were he to retrieve this treasure, she would agree to court him.

Ishita shrugged her shoulders.

“Sounds to me like he needs to get over himself and move on,” she said as she scooped at more rice.

So the man went on his great journey. Upon arriving at the forest, a wise old man stopped him at his path. “Go not into the wood,” said the old man, “For inside lives the mighty Bachaav.” “I fear no such creature,” said the man, “For I am strong, swift, and smart. Only by retrieving the treasure at the center of this forest, will I succeed in my goals.”

Drawing his scimitar, he walked around the old man. As he heads into the forest the old man yells from behind, “He will hunt you until you kill him or he kills you!”

Deep into the jungle went the man. After several hours of exploring, he came upon a clearing. In the clearing, a large creature stood, eating of the fruit of a tree.

The creature had the head of a bull, and shoulders much larger than that of a mortal man. He had hands as a man would, but his legs ended in muscular hooves. Out of its bull-head were two, menacing horns as an Oxen might.

The man had discovered the Bachaav. The creature was a cursed man, doomed to tend to the needs of the jungle and protect the treasure deep within. The Bachaav would challenge any wishing harm to the jungle, it would end those hunting its treasures, but it would also help those in need passing through.

The man sought to take the beast by surprise, and with the beast’s back turned, he sprang upon it with a large rock. The rock shattered against its head.

The beast drew it’s mighty khopesh, Phaadanevaala,and swung it. The man barely rolled away as the beast cleaved a nearby tree straight through the trunk. 

Ishita frowned. This was bad, even for an old story. She was nearing the end of her supper, and would have preferred to rest or train rather than take notes on such an inconsequential story.

The Bachaar lunged forward, burying Phaadanevaala into the Orr. The man had been missed by the length of a maiden’s hair. In a moment of quick thinking, the man jumped onto Phaadanevaala and leapt at the Bachaar. With a mighty slash, he attempted to cleave the head of the beast.

However, the blade barely sunk into its neck before it was stopped by inhuman muscles. The Bachaar gave a roar that filled the jungle. With a swipe of his mighty arm he tossed the man from him, separating him from his weapon.

Now disarmed, the man ran into the jungle, fleeing and escaping the creature. As he ran, he could hear the Bachaar give chase behind him. Where the man jumped and evaded trees, brush, and stone the Bachaar would bash, crush, and push down any obstacle. 

Thinking quickly, the man hid in a hollowed stump. When the Bachaar came past, he was blinded by his own rampage and passed by that man without second thought. When the noise of the Bachaar’s chase died away, the man left the stump and escaped deeper into the jungle.

Ishita shook her head. Some guardian of the forest, wrecking everything in its anger. Was that the story?

For three days time the man evaded the rampaging Bachaar. He ate of the jungle and slept high in the canopy. For three days time the Bachaar hunted him relentlessly. Never did he appear to tire and even when Dimitrius set he took no rest. 

Just after dawn on the fourth day, the man stumbled on a chasm, deeper than he could see and wider than he could leap. However, on the far side, appeared a rope bridge. The bridge was lowered into the chasm, and a pulley system looked to control it from below. The chasm circled an island of land in the center. In the center of the island sat the largest gems the man had ever seen. Each gem was filled with mystical power, and they awaited setting into the perfect necklace made of Gold and Silver. 

To the man’s right was a slope, that he could see lead deep into the chasm below. The man armed himself only with a spear he had fashioned himself and a few perfect rocks for his makeshift sling. When he was ready, he descended into the chasm.

After reaching the bottom and exploring the bottom, he found it a graveyard. Bones of warriors, predators, and some unknown creatures scattered about. They had been cast from the opening above. The man could find no way to scale the chasm from below. However, in the far end, a winch was located.

After repairing the winch, the man toiled to activate the mechanism. Above, the bridge was lifted into place. After successfully lifting the bridge, the man locked the winch into place. Before he left he cast aside his twig and rocks to grab a rusty sword and a dented shield.

Reascending the slope, the man made his way through the jungle to where the bridge was. Upon reaching the opening before the bridge, he was stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. The Bachaar stood before him on the bridge. His neck still showed signs of dried blood and he glared into the jungle, expectantly. 

The man walked from his hiding place among the jungle and stood at the bridge. The Bachaar flexed its muscles, but made no move to approach. The man sighed, knowing he would have to kill the creature with inferior weapons then he had tried killing it before. The creature bellowed out once more, the sound filling the jungle.

The man wielded his blade, and brought down the sword on the very bridge in which the creature stood. With a few expert strikes, he had severed one of the ropes. The man instantly started on the next.

When the Bachaar saw what the man was attempting, he raced forward. Bellowing in anger, the creature shook the rope bridge with every step. The effort was in vain, as the man’s blows would bring the bridge down before the distance could be closed.

With a final swing aided by the beating of the creature’s hooves, the bridge snapped away. The Bachaar disappeared into the gloom below, and its body was shattered as it hit below.

The man rejoiced at his victory, however he soon found his mood soured. Although he had slain the beast, he was now left across the chasm. The treasure stood, out of reach, on the other side. The man had nothing to show for his toils.

“And he lived happily ever after,” scoffed Ishita, “What was even the point of this old legend?”

Ishita had a plan, and she rose from her seat and headed out to get her supplies. She was running out of time before the next day, and she had little time for any final prep she needed.

Enter the Gauntlet

“Roll call, Initiates,” came the cry from Perdadu Lieutenant Huxley.

Ishita leapt to her feet. Roll call, again? Why were they doing it a second time? 

She was quick to fall in line, at attention, with the rest of the Initiates still waiting for their trial. The sun was about to show noon. The Initiates stood in their uniforms. Ishita wore her Khaki uniform with her Khaki light turban. She wore her combat belt, but her pouches were all empty. She wore it for her sheaths for the Shashki Scythes at her side. On her back, her Khana staff was tucked into its sheath as well. Her fellow initiates were all dressed similarly except for small ways they were allowed to alter.

The Lieutenant made a quick run of everyone. He marched down the line, expertly marking each initiate who had not yet been called for their trial.

At the end of the line, the Lieutenant turned to the group, “Initiate Gibbons, you are up. All others, as you were.”

Initiate Gibbons headed off with the Lieutenant. Ishita found herself making her was back to the benches.

They were in an old courtyard outside of where the Gauntlet was said to be housed. Earlier that day a precession of high ranking officers and Perdadu came from all over to view the trials and meet with the recruits who succeeded. Only one Army recruiter waited for those who failed to attempt to get them to sign up for the Kwazulite border.

Owen Joshi stood not far off. He was silent, but he kept stealing glances over at Ishita. She pretended not to notice. Next to her Harmon Gibson shook and tried to meditate. He was trying to overcome his fears with a low, monotonous chant.

“You’ll be great,” said Ishita, standing over him, “Thousands have passed this test before us. Of them, our very teachers. We will be fine.”

“Maybe,” said Harmon, “But there will be physical attribute tests inside. I was never very good at those.”

“Neither was I,” said Ghordi Rhaman, who approached the group.

Ghordi displayed a knack for the technical, and his skills at tinkering only improved with his time at the temple. However, their training left little room for him to overcome his shortcomings in physicality. Ishita worried for him, but not for Ghordi. He had always done well in training. If he didn't lack confidence in himself, he could've been the top student.

“You aren't worried?” commented Ishita.

“The whole point of the Gauntlet is mind over muscle,” said Ghordi, “No need to be physically capable. We have other tests and demonstrations for that.”

“Yes, why would a top Perdadu warrior need to be physically capable,” Owen snarled as he approached.

“And how are you any better, oh great warrior?” said Ishita.

Owen menacingly drew his Scyth, his eyes narrowing in on Ishita. After a moment, he spun it in his hands before sheathing it.

"I wouldn't have shown up if I were you three. You'll bring dishonor onto your families," Owen crossed his arms, "It's honestly dishonorable our Guru's even allowed you to attempt the Gauntlet."

"There's no honor in the attempt," said Ishita, "Only reaching the end."

"Yeah," said Ghordi, "If your academic reputation indicates anything, it's that you are the one the Guru's should be worried about.

“I’ll show you, you little whelp,” snarled Owen, grasping for his scythe.

“Initiates.”

The group turned to see Warrant Officer Ashton Poddar standing not far off. After saluting, the group awaited for him to speak. He nodded to Ishita.

“Miss Mathai, if you would honor me with a quick word?”

Ishita looked to Ghordi before nodding to the Warrant Officer. She walked passed Owen and followed the Warrant Officer out of the courtyard.

He lead her to a stone staircase which overlooked the temple grounds. Below, Perdadu monks chanted and prayed for the safety of the Initiates and their Trial today. They stood, smiling at one another for a few moments. Ishita waited for Poddar to start talking.

“So I have been thinking a great deal,” started Poddar, licking his lips often and pausing, “And I find myself quite drawn to you. I have been interested in your career here since my first visit. You are an extraordinary woman.”

“Oh, thank you, Warrant Officer Poddar.”

“Ashton.”

“... Ashton.”

“And I wish to make a proposal,” said Poddar, “I know how much becoming a Perdadu means to you, and you’ve worked very hard so far.”

“Very. Years even.”

“Right, Right. So I would be so crushed were you to not be able to see your dream come to fruition,” said Poddar, “So I thought if we were to help each other, we could both find eternal happiness.”

“Oh, you… how would you help me?”

“I could easily make arrangements,” said Poddar, “To have you pulled from this silly little trial.”

“Silly?”

“I’d see to it you are bestowed the title of ‘Perdadu’ and you are given all that you rightly deserve,” said Poddar, “That is, should you accept to becoming my wife.”

Ishita blinked rapidly, taking a step back, “Your wife?”

“Yes, we could see to it you get some sort of safe or ceremonial position here in the heartland,” continued Poddar, “And it would do wonders to my own career. Wed to a Perdadu? I could be one of the King’s advisors in a decade! We wouldn’t want again.”

“Safe and Ceremonial?” asked Ishita, “Ashton, I-”

“Ishita, please,” said Poddar, “This ‘Gauntlet’ is dangerous. Do you know Initiates have died attempting it? Countless numbers maimed and injured yearly. What a shame it would be for your hopes to have been crushed or worse, your heavenly body.”

“My what?”

“I just think we would both get more out of our lives should we consider it together,” said Poddar, “I’d get prestige and wife all would envy for decades while you get to keep your health and become a Perdadu with a good job and a place in history as the first female Perdadu.”

“And what if I take the trial anyway?” asked Ishita, crossing her arms.

“Well the whole point would be to protect you from this medieval ritual,” said Poddar, “But if you insist on it anyway, I suppose it would be more expensive to bribe our way out of it.”

“Bribe?” Ishita shook her head, “And what if I want to go to Kwazulite? What if I intend to serve?”

“You can serve, Ishita,” said Poddar, “You’ll serve here. You can teach, you can study, you can protect the heartland, here. It’s just like being a real Perdadu without the danger.”

Ishita shook her head. She looked back to the courtyard, to the other initiates standing around. She felt her eyes begin to burn. 

“Warrant Officer Poddar, I am afraid I will have to decline your request.”

Poddar blinked, and awkwardly chuckled to himself. He looked out to the courtyard and shifted his weight.

“Why? Is it me? Do I repulse you?”

“Ashton, you have no weight on my decision,” said Ishita, “But your attitude is lacking. I have sacrificed years of my life so I could do this trial. I have worked just as hard if not harder to be here. I will be a Perdadu, and I will be one based off my own abilities and not based off your generosity.”

“You could die,” said Poddar.

“I would rather die an Initiate then live as an empty title,” said Ishita.

Ishita turned and began walking away.

“Stop,” he said, before bashfully looking around to see if anyone had caught his outburst.

“Is that an order?” asked Ishita.

Poddar said nothing, before stifling out, “May I see you again?”

“You may,” said Ishita, “But next time you do, I will be Perdadu Mathai to you, Warrant Officer.”

“Initiate Ishita Mathai. Come along.”

Ishita followed Perdadu Lieutenant Huxley into the large, wooden, double doors and into the corridor beyond. They walked down to another door, where a few figures awaited. Sergeant Vad Yeerha stood beside two other Perdadu and Guru Gunadhya Padhi. They all turned to the two as they approached. Sergeant Yeerha crossed his arms and stepped forward.

“I can’t believe you showed up,” he snarled, “Do you actually believe you are ready for this?”

“I am ready, Sergeant,” answered Ishita.

“I will accept your resignation, right now,” said Sergeant Yeerha, “And you will walk away from this.”

“I do not plan to resign without having years of service,” said Ishita.

Yeerha smiled to himself, and he took a few steps forward, leaning it to whisper to Ishita, “I’m going to put you to the infirmary, Initiate. After that, I’ve pulled strings so I’m the sole guard tonight. I’ll come and visit you, myself.”

His eyes noticeably scanned her up and down before he smirked again, “I’ll be sure to pay my respects in full before you are to leave us.”

With that, he nodded to Guru Padhi and he walked through a side door, the other two Perdadu following him. Ishita fought hard to not glare at him as he went. She turned her focus onto Guru Padhi as he waved the Lieutenant away.

“It is wise to seek answers from your tutors,” smiled Guru Padhi, “But head not the advice of fools. Are you prepared to undertake our sacred trial, and either gain entrance into our sacred order or forfeit your right and leave this place?”

“I am,” answered Ishita.

“Are you prepared to begin?”

“I am.”

Without speaking further, Guru Padhi turned and pushed one side of the large wooden double doors aside. He gestured her in. Ishita took in a breath and marched forward, ducking into the room.

On the other side, the room was cast in darkness. A loan torch sat lit in a holder off to the side. It cast light down a staircase. The light stopped and flickered not far down, but past a gap of more darkness the small ring of light of another torch could be seen. The door behind her shut, and Guru Padhi overtook her, walking confidently down the staircase. He didn’t grab a torch, and he walked down confidently into the darkness.

Ishita followed him in step, she was careful to measure out each step as to not trip and fall. As they made their was down the staircase, they reached a small corridor which, after a moment of walking, opened into a large chamber. 

The chamber was lined with torches. Not far off, a group of figures stood, waiting. They surrounded a large brazier with a roaring flame inside. By the light of that flame you could see that most of the chamber was taken up by a gigantic statue head of a tiger in the midst of a large roar. Steps lead up into its mouth, where a large metal door sat imposingly.

Guru Padhi walked right up to the group, and gestured for Ishita to stand before him. One of the figures stepped forward. He wore an elaborate robe and had a necklace with several large, beautiful gems.

“Initiate Ishita Mathai. You are summoned here today to run the Gauntlet,” said the man, “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, head Grand Guru Kusari,” answered Ishita, “I am honored.”

Grand Guru Kusari was an older Guru. He was rarely at the temple, or rarely anywhere but the royal palace these days. He was extremely caught up with his political career and aiding the King, so visits to locations like their temple were rare. He was an older man with a clean shaven head and clean shaved, round face. 

Ishita also recognized Guru Edwin Bhater, who was unmistakable with his large white walrus mustache and bushy eyebrows that threatened to obscure his sight. He was whispering to a military captain off to the side, which was to be expected. Guru Bhater was known for chatting quite a bit.

However, Ishita was unfamiliar with the series of Colonels, Lieutenants, and other officers present at this time. They appeared to only care about the trials.

Grand Guru Kusari cleared his throat, “Once you step past this circle of peers, your trial will begin. No initiate attempts the gauntlet twice. Should you fail, you will be expelled.”

He allowed that to sink in before he continued, “You may be hurt or killed beyond that door, should you gain entrance. Are you ready for the Gauntlet?”

“My superiors have trained me well. I will honor them,” stated Ishita. 

“Do those present here today support this initiate's quest?”

“Yes,” came the voice of Guru Padhi.

A solitary grunt came from Guru Bhater and a few other Gurus. A few nods came from some others, but mostly an awkward silence filled the chamber. Ishita tried to hide her sudden rise in temperature as she felt her ears heat up and her heart begin to pound more intensely. Grand Guru Kusari clapped his hands together and bowed his head. Ishita slammed her hands together and returned the bow.

“So it begins,” mumbled Grand Guru Kusari.

At his words, the military officers turned and stepped back. The Gurus collectively approached a series of disks overlooking the head of the beast. Each Guru bowed to the head before crossing their legs and sitting.

Ishita was left alone, but she followed Grand Guru Kusari to his disk. When he sat, she took in a breath, and stepped forward past the line of Gurus. 

Guru Bhater huffed at the effort before announcing, “You will not be timed, but you will be observed at all times. Attempts to cheat will result in court martial and death by firing squad. You may end your run at any time by yielding. Reach the end of the Gauntlet, and claim your title.”

Ishita gulped. She stared into the very eyes of the Tiger. As silence gripped the room, she fidgeted on her heels. With another huff, she took her first steps forward, approaching the mouth of the Gauntlet.