For the fifth time that night, her hands drifted to his cock and started to play with it. Wolfe grunted and rolled away from her. He wanted to sleep, and she was insatiable. But the moment he did so, his half asleep mind regretted it, as another pair of hands drifted to his cock and picked up where the others had left off. Groggily he sat up, managed to crawl out of bed from between them, found his robe in the darkness, and pulled it over his head.
"trouble sleeping?" one of them said with a hint of mischief in her voice.
"...piss." he muttered, lying. "have fun without me." He opened the door before the two twins could protest. Not that they would, they were all too eager to entertain one another. This had been going on for a couple of days, and he was getting too sleep deprived to indulge their desires anymore. What had started out as a slut's wet dream made reality was becoming a curse and souring his mood more than usual. Two Zeks was too many. Two too many, he was coming to realize.
Wolfe made his way down the footpaths to the latrines, finished his business, and wander out into the middle of the training yard. The moon was half full but bright, his sleepy eyes could adjust and make out the ground, sand, grass, dirt, stones and all. The air was cold. Dawn would come soon. He slowly raised his arms up, spread his feet, and fell into a bare handed fighting stance. He maintained his form and posture until the weariness of his back and shoulders abated. The cold air made his breath float about in the air. Wolfe shut his eyes and ignored the rest of his senses...
A hand tapped him on the shoulder and his body jerked suddenly. Wolfe opened his eyes to a bright morning sun and the chirps of birds. Mero was standing beside him dressed in his training trousers and vest. Wolfe closed them again with a grunt of annoyance. Slowly, Mero circled Wolfe, watching him, looking at him, waiting for something to happen that never did. When he came back to the place he was standing when he first woke him, he struck.
Wolfe deflected the punch for his face with his arm and countered with his own open palm strike to Mero's chest. It connected. Mero gasped more in surprise than from the force behind it, countered by grabbing Wolfe's wrist and spun around to throw the man over his shoulder. Wolfe's body went limp, and he soared gracefully over. The instant his feet touched the ground, his whole body curled into action using the momentum to pull Mero over Wolfe's shoulder. Mero landed with a thud and a grunt, but recovered by sweeping his legs around in a circle to knock Wolfe off his. He was too slow, and Wolfe was out of range, poised for another strike just as Mero rose to his feet.
Fully awake and aware of each other's readiness, they circled one another, waiting for the right moment to strike. Mero broke first, striking his fist at Wolfe's face. Wolfe threw an arm up and blocked it, following it with a counterstrike at Mero's elbow, but Mero countered. The two men exchanged blows back and forth, each equally matched at dodging, blocking, and counter-striking, and neither landed an effective hit.
Mero's traditionally disarming smile was absent from this fight. His countenance was utterly serious, and for the first time since they began Wolfe was wondering why they were fighting. Such sparring sessions were common, as were ambushes. But something about this felt off.
"You've gotten better." Mero commented, slightly winded. Wolfe was calm, eerily calm. "But it's not the training. You haven't had any new lessons. Just chores, and practice." Mero changed his stance to a wider step. Wolfe recognized it as one of the weapon styles, but Mero was unarmed. He watched one of Mero's hand go behind him to the small of his back. Wolfe knew then that he was armed. The weapon would come out when he struck, and not before.
Wolfe dove forward with his arm thrown back to strike, Mero brought the knife out in one fluid motion meant for Wolfe's neck. The punch was a feint, Wolfe had his weight on the wrong foot when he was within range, and was able to duck under and sweep Mero's knee at the same time. The kick met with little resistance, as Mero turned his body at the last moment to minimize the impact. Wolfe's free hand had caught Mero's blade hand at the wrist, and he snaked the other under Mero's chin until his elbow was under it and he pulled hard, arching the man's body backwards. The danger to this move, was that he was locked into it until Mero passed out from blood loss to the brain, and until the he was at the mercy of Mero's other hand, even if it was mostly out of range.
Mero jumped. Flipped his body over, breaking the hold, and dislocating his shoulder in the process. And with his free hand picked up his knife and took a more deadly stance. His intentions were deadly serious, this was not a sparring session. Wolfe backed away uncertainly, but kept his confusion and concerns out of this fight. Mero had started it, and Wolfe would end it.
"So what has changed?" Mero asked in all seriousness, expecting an answer. Wolfe reflected for moment. He had gone through some changes ever since she came into his life.
"I stopped feeling safe." Wolfe answered. Mero relaxed, put away his weapon, and stood up.
"Good." Mero said. He grabbed his lame arm by the bicep, twisted and yanked in one precise movement until there was a loud pop, followed by Mero's grunt of relief.
"Are we done here?" Wolfe said irritably.
"No. The Father summons you. Come with me."
"Shit." Wolfe muttered and reluctantly followed his senior, albeit at a respectful distance now.
Master Conner was waiting for them outside The Father's study. He looked none too happy to see Wolfe, but he knocked once on the door before opening it. The three men filed in by rank. Wolfe respectfully closed the door behind him. The room was small and sparse, a long writing table sat in the middle of the room, wooden chests with numerous drawers sat waist high and symmetrically along both walls. There were no chairs, as this room was designed in the old ways of the T'ien Lun monks that first founded the Monastery, and not the Greiggor Kingdom that had later taken over the land. Whatever business The Father did in here, he had put it all away and cleaned the room for whatever ceremony or event that was now about to take place.
Three pieces of parchment were placed at three positions on the table opposite The Father. A writing brush and ink stone accompanied them. The Father did not look up at them, but stared blankly at the table lost in thought. Conner took a seat on the floor before the first blank parchment. Mero followed his lead, and Wolfe sat down last. Only once they were seated did The Father look up.
"Write for me the T'ien character for Cha." He instructed. Conner and Mero immediately took up the ink stick and began grinding the ink stone in the stone well into a powder. Wolfe followed their lead. When they realized there was no water to mix the powder with, Mero drew his knife, sliced his palm and let the blood drip into the mixing well on the stone. Conner did the same. Wolfe spit into his. Yet The Father did not reprimand him. All three wrote the character flawlessly on their paper.
"Write for me the T'ien character for Jhun." The Father instructed. "Place it before Cha." Writing backwards was unusual, but after all three did so, they looked to the writing and realized it spelled something unexpected - Hyan-Gyarr.
"Written this way, Char becomes Gyarr, and Jhun becomes Hyan." The Father explained, but all three had already understood this. This was clearly becoming some sort of ceremony to Wolf. He wasn't sure what this was for, or why he was even here sitting next to two Masters, while he was a lowly initiate. "Gyarr. 'Chaos'." The Father read. "Gyarr. 'Person responsible for."
"We, the Huangard. Take our namesake from this meaning. What does this word mean to you, Master Connor?" The Father asked.
"A person who causes change." Connor answered.
"What does this word mean to you Master Mero?" The Father asked.
"A man who brings equal calamity and prosperity." Mero said thoughtfully.
"What does this word mean to you Initiate Wolfe?" The Father asked. There was no scorn in his voice, and that made Wolfe even more uncomfortable.
"A disruptor." Wolfe said plainly. He thought he saw The Father's eyebrow twitch angrily, or maybe it was surprise. "I read it as a person that causes disorder. If I wanted to imply great calamity I would have used a different symbol."
"Oh? Such as?" The Father indulged him.
"Shen, Fyo, - 'earthquake'" Wolfe said offhand and started to wrack his brain for others but the look in the Father's face told him to immediately stop there.
"Wolfe has been chatting with Liam it seems," The Father said sternly as his tranquil brow turned to a dark scowl. "Normally I would kill him for disobeying me, but it seems it has paid off and he has learned something important. We are also known as Disruptors. And that was pretty smart, boy. But reckless. You almost had her killed"
"Gotten her killed?" Wolfe said confused.
"Yes," The Father said condescendingly. "Without you around to keep her occupied, do you think the rest of us would tolerate a Zek?" The old man snorted derisively. He cleared his throat loudly and looked to the other Masters. "This paper is your writ to take the last trial. You will either succeed or die trying. Your days of training are over." The Father said getting back on track. "Take it with you. Ready yourselves. At noon be at the chapel. Silas will open the catacombs for you. Your trial lies at the bottom. Now go." He bowed his head ever so slightly and stayed there. Both Masters bowed theirs lower, and Wolfe was forced to slide back from the table so that his forehead could touch the floor without first hitting the table. Mero and Connor rose to their feet and. Wolfe stayed behind.
"Father, may I ask a question?" He said respectfully and meekly. This honor was not meant for him and he did not know why he was selected.
