Read Online Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan by J. Eric Booker - Free Book Online

stated
evenly.
    The boy stood up and retried his failed feat.
This time he was able to accomplish the roll, though it felt
uncomfortable and extremely awkward.
    “Ninety degrees,” Humonus said. “Try
again.”
    Baltor tried several times over, each time
getting a bit better.
    Finally, the time came when the drill
instructor stated with a nod, “Not too bad. Now try rolling to the
right.”
    The boy leapt to the right, and even though
he was able to get back up on his feet, his foot positioning was
wrong.
    “Ninety degrees,” Humonus clipped. “Try
again.”
    Again, the boy tried, and again, his feet
ended up in the wrong position.
    The drill instructor shook his head and said,
“Work on it, later. Now, I want you to roll backward.”
    Baltor attempted the feat but failed
miserably. His back slammed into the ground before his arms could
stop the fall. This was the fourth time he saw shooting stars that
day, and he couldn’t even get his body to roll back over itself,
much less move!
    The drill instructor shook his head. “Slap
your hands hard into the ground—it hurts a lot less than your back.
Also, tilt your head to the side. Try again!”
    After the boy had slowly stood back up, he
retried but failed still again.
    “Work on that too,” the drill instructor
said, “but later, and in your own free time—I have more things to
teach you right now.”
    “Yes, sir,” Baltor replied, now completely
sore yet again.
    After Humonus had resumed the stance himself,
he ordered,
    “Assume the stance.”
    The boy immediately did as told.
    While extending his hands and arms out into
the same angle as his feet, the drill instructor taught, “Within
this ninety-degree span is the strongest area for both your offense
and your defense. But really, with the simple pivoting of your
feet, you can already have another ninety degrees covered.”
    Once he had demonstrated, he then ordered,
“Now you try.”
    The boy was actually able to repeat the act
without trouble—his feet were the only body parts that didn’t
hurt.
    “Good, good,” the drill instructor
congratulated with a small smile. His smile faded as he continued
teaching in a very serious tone, “Now each and every attack or
defense, whether a punch, kick, block, or roll that you perform—all
movements must be contained within the perimeters of your stance.
If any part of you should fall outside of those perimeters, your
balance will be off, and your opponent will easily finish you off!
Any questions?”
    “Yes, sir, I have one.”
    “Yes?”
    “How do I protect all the other ninety
degrees?”
    “Good question,” Humonus answered. “There are
two other ways to do this. One is through a defensive roll, which
we have just gone over—the other is through an offensive strike.
Let me show you both ways through a variety of techniques.”
    He forthwith launched into a one-minute set
that consisted of punches, kicks and rolls that utterly startled
the student. His drill instructor had every area covered: His speed
was breathtaking: His movements were precise: His power was
evident!
    Upon completion of his demonstration, he
stopped, resumed a normal stance and faced his student. He hadn’t
broken a sweat, nor was he out of breath. Nor did he speak.
    “Oh, my God,” Baltor could only say about
twenty seconds later.
    The drill instructor sighed, before replying,
“I am not God. I am a man. In time, should you make it through
phase two, you will be able to accomplish all of this and much,
much more. Any other questions?”
    “One, sir. How did you learn all of
this?”
    “To answer your question in a
nutshell—centuries ago, there was a traveler from a very faraway
land who came to us and taught us these fighting skills. Only
higher-grade thieves may learn the full history,” Humonus answered.
“For now, concern yourself with some lunch.”
    “Yes, sir!” Baltor snapped, just before he
painfully and wearily made his way over to the lunch table, looking
at