In a daze, Maddox followed Father Benedict into the monastery. They moved through cool stone corridors with the scent of stew on the air. Maddox’s stomach began to growl.

  “We will eat soon,” Benedict said. “First, you must secure your belongings in your cell.”

  Maddox went through passageways, saw men sitting at benches with tiny tools as they made clocks. He saw others practice slow-motion moves the old monk had used on the street. Others peeled potatoes or hammered pegs into well-drilled holes.

  Finally, Father Benedict opened a wooden door hung on leather hinges. He flipped a switch, and a light bulb shined brightly in a small stone cell. There was a simple, straw-lined pallet with a thread-worn blanket and pillow, an old chest and a dowel with two robes hanging from it.

  “This is mine?” Maddox asked in wonder.

  Benedict smiled, realizing the boy considered the paltry items as riches compared to what he’d known. Instead of taking the way of poverty, the frail lad believed he’d entered an era of great wealth.

  So much of this world depended on perspective.

  “Notice this,” Benedict said. He opened the old chest, taking out a long knife in a special scabbard.

  “He should have been carrying the knife today,” Maddox said matter-of-factly.

  “This is more than a mere knife,” Benedict said. “It is one of the greatest treasures on Remus. Many people would kill to possess it.”

  Maddox looked up at the monk to see if he was serious. The man seemed to be. “I don’t understand,” the boy said.

  “I will not draw the blade yet,” Benedict said. “But I will tell you about it. Long ago, a technowizard fashioned it.”

  “A what?”

  “They were legendary technicians with arts far beyond our understanding,” Benedict said. “This blade can cut anything. It was fashioned out of a special alloy and has a monofilament edge one molecule in thickness. When I say it can cut anything, I mean exactly that.”

  “Can it cut steel?” Maddox asked.

  “Easily,” Benedict said.

  “Bones?”

  “Like air,” Benedict said.

  “And it’s mine?”

  “Will you sell it?”

  “No,” Maddox said, knowing that was what the old man wanted to hear.

  “It is yours, Maddox, but not to do with as you like until you pass the training.”

  Maddox knew there would be a catch to all this.

  “I will show you one other item. Then, we will eat, and I will introduce you to the others.” Benedict put the sheathed monofilament knife into the chest, withdrawing a small leather-bound book.

  “This is another marvel,” Benedict said. “It contains my brother’s dream. I think you are the one meant to read the words and fulfill what is written here.”

  “I don’t know how to read.”

  “I will teach you.”

  “What if I’m too stupid to learn?” Maddox asked.

  “You will learn, don’t doubt it.”

  Maddox had his doubts, but now kept them to himself.

  “Once you do learn to read,” Benedict said, “my brother’s dream will transfer to you. Your task will be to fulfill what is written here.”

  Maddox glanced dubiously at the leather-bound book.

  “But,” Benedict said decisively, “enough about mysteries and lore. It is time to wash and eat.”

  “Headmaster,” Maddox said. “What should I do with this?” He held up the medallion.

  “Here,” Benedict said, holding out his hands.

  Maddox’s features fell. So, it had all been a lie. He should have known. Worse, the old man blocked his way of escape. How could he have been such a fool as to trust these people? Everyone lied in order to gain their own ends.

  Bitterly, Maddox handed the monk the coin.

  Father Benedict spread the chain apart, approaching him. “Allow me, my boy,” the monk said.

  To Maddox’s shock, the monk slipped the chain over his head, letting the cool metal touch his neck.

  “Put the medallion under your shirt,” Benedict said. “We’ll tell the others about it later. For now, though, wear it proudly as you remember my brother’s brave stand against evil.”

  Maddox fingered the gold medallion in amazement. Could this really be happening?

  “Here is your first lesson,” Benedict said.

  Maddox hardly heard. This was all too amazing.

  “A coward dies a thousand times, but a brave man dies but once.”

  Maddox nodded, hearing the words but ignoring the meaning. His gamble had paid off. The monks had accepted him into the monastery. He would eat regular meals and sleep in safety. This was paradise.

  Maddox should have known that the cost to gaining such riches would prove to be heavier than the prize. But that lay in the future, so it didn’t matter now, now did it?

  -28-

  In the monastery, Maddox heard the exciting news about a visiting Fusion starship. It had something called a hyperdrive, and had taken four Remus representatives with it as the starship returned to its home system.

  Maddox had grown these past years into a slender young man of fourteen with thickening wrists. The hot stews had given him a growth spurt. The training had hardened his stringy muscles. The physical safety had lessened his stomachaches. He had also leaped ahead of every student in the monastery concerning several key physical and mental arts.

  The Order of Saint Nath was an ancient society, with many of their arts originating on Manhome. A few of the stranger skillsets had been picked during the long colonizing journey to Remus.

  A scientist called Doctor Van Nath had invented a new fighting technique that had incorporated a fuller control of a person’s physical energy. It had many similarities to older martial arts, but used an inner chi of profoundly greater power. Van Nath had taught his followers these techniques, and they in turn taught their students, and so on decade after decade. Naturally, some tried to improve on Doctor Van Nath’s fabulous techniques. They only ended up corrupting some of his most esoteric paths, weakening the effectiveness of the special art.

  The old monk in the slum had believed he’d rediscovered some of Doctor Van Nath’s ways. Before his sudden death, he’d taught his brother Benedict the key enlightenments to use.

  Father Benedict tried to show the best students how to breathe, stand, meditate and find the inner peace that served as the platform to the greater accomplishments.

  To everyone’s surprise, Maddox had the greatest knack for this. In a few years, he could leap higher, strike harder and step quieter than anyone else could. Yet, he was the skinniest and possibly the frailest student in the monastery. Despite that, he could out-eat everyone, including Jacob. The fourteen-year-old had turned into a fleshly furnace, gobbling everything in sight.

  Maddox presently sat cross-legged, straight-backed and with his head bowed in the meditation chapel. He held the small, leather-bound book, reading the words penned by his dead master.

  Father Benedict entered. He looked more like his brother every day, becoming frail with trembling hands.

  Sensing the man’s presence, Maddox lowered the book onto his lap.

  Benedict shuffled near, slowly working his old bones onto a second mat. It took him some time, but finally he crossed his legs.

  “You seem troubled, my son,” the old man said in a creaky voice.

  “I am, Father. I…have begun to believe I should leave the monastery in order to hunt the ruffians who murdered my master.”

  Benedict nodded slowly. He had long foreseen this day. He’d watched the young one grow at a fantastic rate. The boy absorbed many of his lessons faster than seemed natural.

  “What would you do to the ruffians once you found them?” Benedict whispered.

  “First, I would explain to each in exacting detail the nature of his crime.”

  “And if he repented of his deed?”

  Maddox looked shocked. He’d never considered the possibility. “Do you think such a thing is likely?”

  “That would be my prayer. I hope it is yours, too.”

  Maddox mulled that over, finally shaking his head. “No, Father. I would desire them to spit in my face so I could wipe their foulness from existence.”

  “That is not the Deity’s way,” chided Benedict. “He seeks to teach men their errors so they can repent and find a better way to live.”

  “Some men can’t learn,” Maddox said with conviction.

  “You cannot know until you give them a chance.”

  “Not men like these.”

  “You learned to read,” Benedict said.

  Maddox looked up before looking down and smiling shyly. In the beginning, he hadn’t thought reading possible for him. He’d been quite wrong and now loved to read.

  “You have learned many lessons, my son.”

  “Father…”

  Benedict waited patiently, seeing the confusion in the boy. The old monk knew his own days were numbered. He felt cold all the time and had trouble waking up in the morning. He had come to believe that he was the boy’s anchor. Once, Benedict had believed that was due to his kindness. Now, he realized it was because he looked like his brother, reminding Maddox of that fateful day.

  “Father,” Maddox blurted, “why have I learned my lessons so much faster than anyone else?”

  “You haven’t.”

  Maddox stiffened.

  Benedict smiled. “You haven’t learned every lesson faster. You have only learned the fighting arts faster and deeper. I have always hoped that you would learn to show mercy and love to the same degree.”

  “Do you know why I absorbed those lessons so much quicker than others?”

  “I do.”

  “Would you tell me, please?”

  Benedict heard the pleading in the boy’s voice. In many ways, Maddox was still frightened by life. He tried to armor himself from fear, but had only half succeeded.

  “I have long pondered this mystery,” Benedict said. “In time, the answer became obvious, although I’m not surprised you don’t know.”

  Maddox waited, watching the old man.

  “The secret is in the process of awakening your inner chi.”

  “Yes?” Maddox said.

  “To awaken the chi, you must first go deep in yourself. Few can penetrate far enough. You have plunged deeper than anyone I know, maybe farther than any normal person should be able to do. The reason is that you knew paralyzing fear night after night in your earliest years. The fear consumed you, entering every pore of your being. Because of that deepening, you opened channels in yourself that a normal person does not and cannot once they become older.”

  “You’ve said I’m not normal several times now, Father. Does that mean I’m a freak?”

  “Yes, Maddox, you most certainly are a freak.”

  The boy stared at him with wide eyes as his lips quivered.

  “Peace, Maddox,” Benedict said in a kind voice. “You are a freak like a strong man is a freak, like a genius is one. You are in a league of your own, but this league consists of those who long knew all-consuming fear in their most impressionable years. In the beginning, all you knew was fear. I believe you began to hate this in yourself.”

  “I did and I do.”

  Benedict nodded. “The hatred was also deep. Both of those things allowed you to go where others could not because they had never walked the inner path of fear to such depths. You already knew the way into yourself because you’d been there a thousand times before.”

  “You mean when I was afraid?” Maddox said.

  “When you were terrified.”

  Maddox looked away, considering this. “I think you’re right.”

  “You are a young man balanced on a knife’s edge,” Benedict said. “The fear still lives in you. To control it, you expand yourself, gathering the chi. Once the chi surrounds you, you know a peace usually only found in a loving mother’s arms. Your confidence grows exponentially then.”

  “I never knew my mother.”

  “Likely, that is the reason you can hold the chi longer than others can. It is because of a secret yearning in you.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Father. I see it now. I appreciate your insights.”

  The two sat in silence.

  “Maddox,” Benedict said after a time.

  The young man inclined his head.

  “What has the book taught you?”

  The young fingers tightened around the leather-bound book. “Your brother wished to found a fighting Order fashioned after the tenets of Doctor Van Nath.”

  Benedict’s heart began to thump. “Go on,” he whispered.

  “Your brother wished the members of the Order to act, well, as knights, I suppose, modern knights righting wrongs and helping those in need.”

  “Such as how my brother helped you as a boy,” Benedict said.

  Maddox frowned. “Sometimes, I can feel my control slipping. I believe that was what happened to your brother. The knives panicked him for just a moment. If I panic, the fear will come rushing back and paralyze me. I might die horribly to worthless opponents then.”

  “The five young men facing my brother were not worthless.”

  “They were scum, Father, ruffians of the street.”

  “They were humans with the right weapon, in the right place, at the right time to kill a better man than they.”

  “Still…my question remains.”

  “I will tell you what you will do if the fear breaks through your chi,” Benedict said. “Because you fear that happening someday, you will hold your concentration with greater awareness because the idea of fearing again will help you channel the fear to push you to be brave.”

  “That sounds awfully convoluted,” Maddox said.

  “Convoluted,” Benedict said. “That’s a big word, my son.”

  Maddox smiled.

  The old man inhaled deeply. “I have a question for you,” he said.

  Maddox nodded.

  “Will you take up my brother’s challenge? Will you begin the Order of modern knights, helping to defend the defenseless?”

  “Who am I to do that, Father?”

  “You are Maddox. You are the one my brother found. You have absorbed our teaching better than anyone ever has. In terms of the fighting arts, there is little more I can show you. You must trust the book and my brother’s dream.”

  Maddox nodded, but it was a dodge, not an acceptance of Father Benedict’s desire. He loved the safety of the monastery. He liked the full meals and the warm bed. He enjoyed learning and practicing. He also knew that it was one thing to be good on the practice mat and another thing to be good on the street. While it was true that he wanted to meet the five thugs, he didn’t know if he would be able to kill them.

  Those five had cut short the life of the best man he’d ever known, the genius who had penned the incredible Book of Dreams. Maddox was certain he was not the one. Yes, he was better than anyone else in the fighting arts. But he knew very well a single bullet could end his life and a knife in the right place could cripple him forever.

  Why had the best man in the world picked him? Maddox only partly wanted to learn the answer. The other half feared such knowledge. Living here was like a good dream. He made clocks, practiced the art and spoke with good men. What more could life give him?

  Maddox sighed wistfully. He felt as if something evil watched him, waiting for the right moment to spring. It would wait for that one second when he feared and was defenseless. The idea filled him with a secret dread, and that made him more determined than ever to find his enemy…and destroy him.

  -29-

  Years later, Maddox sat cross-legged beside Father Benedict. Over one hundred candles flickered in the chapel. The old man lay on a mat, wheezing horribly. Whenever he stopped wheezing, the frail old man coughed weakly with a wet rattle.

  Father Benedict was dying.

  Maddox was eighteen, a lean young man with thick wrists and powerful hands. A few people had commented on his looks.

  “He’s like a guardian angel,” people whispered. “His face…it’s so handsome.”

  Maddox wore a tunic, his concentration on the father’s sweaty features. His heart threatened to thud as tears ached to spill from his eyes. Maddox refused as he silently chanted a litany of peace.

  Benedict began to cough worse than before. His eyelids flickered, and he opened them as he vainly tried to breathe.

  Maddox raised the old man’s head. That helped a little.

  “Water,” Benedict whispered.

  Maddox held a shallow bowl, helping the father sip.

  “Thank you, my son,” the old man whispered.

  Gently, Maddox helped him lie down again.

  “Listen,” Benedict whispered. “Will you please listen?

  Maddox nodded as he stared into those rheumy eyes.

  “Forgive them their sin,” Benedict whispered. “That is my dying request.”

  “You’re merely sick, Father.”

  “No, Maddox. The Deity is summoning me to His presence. There, I must give an account of my life before He lets me pass on.”

  Maddox listened as he trembled.

  “Forgive my brother’s killers, Maddox. You must give up the way of vengeance. It will lead…”

  “Yes?” Maddox asked. “It will lead me where?”

  Benedict never said, as he stopped breathing then, his spirit passing on.

  Maddox stared at the serene, wrinkled face. He could not believe the peace he saw there. It made his heart ache despite his litany and training. A tear welled in his left eye. What would Father Benedict have told him? What was the great danger if he brought justice to the killers? He dearly wanted to know. He had to know, as he planned to begin hunting for them after they buried Father Benedict.

  ***

  Maddox found the first killer in a tavern catering to the legions. It had taken him two weeks of walking, standing quietly on street corners or in the market, listening, holding a begging bowl and asking a soft question or two.

  He’d returned twice to the monastery. The brothers had elected Jacob as the Abbot.