by Keith Walsh
“You son of a whore,” laughed Atheles, shaking his head but stopping almost as soon as he started, Kalen’s cold eyes burning into him. “My mother was a whore,” said Kalen, briefly holding the intensity of his stare. “Luckily for you, one that I had no love for,” he finished, relaxing and returning his attention to dressing again. Kalen’s eyes no longer upon him, Atheles gave a sigh of relief and secretly admonished himself for the carelessness of his words. His reaction had been instinctive as if talking with a close friend, whereas he doubted that Kalen considered him as any such thing. The whole situation had confused Atheles. Kalen rarely opened up to him, and even when he did it was never on a personal level but only in order to explain what elaborate thoughts had gone on in his head in regards to some scheme he wanted credit for.
Perhaps the fight with the strange creature was the reason for Kalen’s sudden change in behaviour? Atheles simply did not know but he wanted to take advantage of it. “You know, you could have simply lifted your shirt to show me those scars?” pointed out Atheles. “Perhaps,” replied Kalen, fastening his weapons back into place. “But then I would have missed out on my amusement.” Atheles just shook his head and gave a wry smile.
“You see, my youth did not have the loving, playful nature I hear so many stories about,” began Kalen without any prompt from Atheles while easing himself into a sitting position by the fire. Atheles followed suit, sitting across from Kalen but still close enough to listen carefully to whatever revelations would follow. “My childhood consisted of constant training, criticism, hatred and punishment. Punishment for my mistakes, or so I was told, but sometimes it seemed to me it was for no reason at all,” continued Kalen and Atheles could see his master’s breathing become heavier as he spoke, his memories obviously causing anger to swell within him.
“Answer me this Atheles. What do you think happens to a child who is abused, betrayed and beaten by those who should love, nurture and protect them?” asked Kalen.
Atheles thought for a moment. “In truth, I do not know Kalen,” he answered, spreading his hands in an apologetic manner. “I came from a loving environment. My father was – and is, I think – a great man. But I no longer know if he still lives.” Kalen rubbed his chin as Atheles spoke, eyeing the giant slyly. Atheles paused for a moment and then continued. “My mother passed when I was young but for what little time I had with her she cared for us all greatly…” A look of regret began to form on his face. “I am the one who caused the rift in my family and despite all my courage in the arena, I have not been able to return home and face them since,” he finished, looking to Kalen for any response.
“A heart-warming story to be sure,” said Kalen twisting his head once towards the fire while smiling mockingly. “But I believe we were talking about me,” he continued, waiting for the fiery retort he had become accustomed to extracting. None came, much to Kalen’s disappointment.
“Perhaps I am becoming too predictable for you Atheles,” said Kalen with a raised eyebrow. Atheles didn’t answer, he just matched the cold stare he now received from his master, his expression indifferent, uncaring. Kalen smiled and sniggered.
“Come now Atheles, please don’t lose that sense of frustration normally born from my behaviour or this journey will become quite boring.” Atheles looked at him through squinted eyes, searching for some hint that this was just another mind game, but he found none. Kalen’s good mood seemed genuine. He had never seen the man behave like this. He thinks he is becoming predictable but the truth is I have never found him less predictable then right now. Something is amiss here, thought Atheles.
“Did you take a drink tonight Kalen?” asked Atheles, ignoring their previous conversation. “Of course not,” retorted Kalen with a flash of anger. “You know how I feel about that. It dulls the senses. I do not drink and you know this. Why ask such a stupid question?”
“You are not behaving like yourself,” answered Atheles, honestly. “Perhaps the encounter with that strange creature nights ago has had some effect on you?” Kalen didn’t respond, and instead he stared into the fire while pondering his companion’s comments. After some time had passed he finally spoke. “During my youth one of my instructors told me that I needed to control my fear.”
He looked at Atheles. “‘Control your fear, or it will control you’, he would say.” Kalen waved his finger at Atheles as if mimicking the action of the instructor who spoke the words. “I told him I didn’t understand. I asked how it was possible to control feelings. He smiled at me then and attacked with the wooden training swords we always used. I blocked each strike with ease.” Atheles nodded, eager to hear more.
“‘Good, very good’, my instructor said. ‘You have come along very nicely. Tell me Kalen – did you feel any fear as I attacked you just now?’. I answered him simply – ‘no’, I said. Without another word he walked to the weapons rack and took a sword made of steel from its resting place. He approached me with it. I instantly felt uneasy and my heart began to race. ‘Defend yourself,’ he screamed, before launching into another assault.”
Kalen stood abruptly and started to act out the scene his memory so vividly recalled. “My actions were less fluid this time and my defence was flawed. Within moments my instructor had drawn blood from my cheek. No sooner had it started to flow the attack ceased. I reached to my cheek and wiped the blood with my hand. I stared at it and rubbed it around my fingertips. I remember thinking how beautiful it looked and how it became sticky as I rubbed.”
“‘Do not worry. The cut is shallow. It will heal quickly and without scaring,’ my instructor said. I looked to him and smiled. I told him that I was not worried. And without another word I licked the drying blood on my fingers.” Kalen mimicked the action.
“‘Hmm, salty’” I said. It was an odd taste but I’m not sure I disliked it. My instructor just nodded. ‘Do you know the reason why you failed to block my attacks?’, he asked. ‘I’m not sure,’ I replied, ‘but you have never used a real sword against me before and I felt uneasy. My heart beat faster and I guess I was afraid you would hurt me’, I answered him.”
“‘Exactly’, my instructor said excitedly. ‘You were afraid. And that fear caused you to fail when you had defended yourself perfectly just moments before, for I used the exact same pattern of attack.’ I was surprised – ‘I did not notice,’ I said. On he went: ‘No, because your mind was more concerned with being hurt, because a real weapon struck at you. Your fear blinded you and robbed you of your true capabilities’. That’s what he said.”
Atheles sat silently, watching him from across the fire, his master’s face lit by the dancing flames, waiting for him to continue. After a long pause he did. “I had to think for a moment. How do I stop that happening? How do I control feeling? I asked him again to teach me. He smiled at me and said ‘Ultimately experience will teach you but you can help yourself too.’ ‘How?’ I asked again, and he explained: ‘Preparation – I can train your body and your mind to be prepared. However there is more to it than that. Fear has its genesis in the unexpected, the unknown. You will learn to control or even lose your fear when facing me, but you will still feel it the first time you meet a stranger in combat.’”
Kalen squinted through the smoke at Atheles to make sure he was still paying attention, then continued. “‘If that is true then I can never really learn to control it. For every time I face someone in combat they will be a stranger,’ I retorted, and he laughed out loud at that.” His voice became harsh, a singsong parody. “‘My, but you are a smart one of late Kalen. However, you will recall that I mentioned experience, and that with it will come confidence and that can be used to counter fear. You can never really be completely free of emotion but you can strive to control it.’”
He reached over and threw a log into the fire, sending a cloud of sparks up into the dark sky like angry fireflies. “I had felt terribly confused and my instructor saw it within me. He changed back to the wooden sword and attacked me without warning. Despite this
, I again defended with ease. ‘There, you see?’ he said. ‘See what? I am not afraid of a wooden sword and you are not a stranger. This proves nothing.’ I was getting angry with his riddles, impatient to understand.”
“‘That is the point Kalen. You defended effortlessly because you felt no fear, but why? Why did you feel unafraid? Let me answer that for you – it is because you are trained and you are familiar with the training sword – you know it cannot harm you. The steel sword was an unknown and the unknown caused you fear and with that fear you forgot what you have learned. You did not focus on my attacks but instead on whether you would be hurt or not.’”
“My instructor once more swapped back to the real sword and attacked me again. This time I parried each swing without fault, without hesitation. ‘No-no-no,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong now?’ I shouted. ‘I blocked your damn strikes didn’t I?’ He just stared at me. ‘Yes, but you did so with anger,’ he said. ‘You did not feel fear because you were angry and anger is dangerous. It clouds the mind and makes you reckless. I want you to fight with control and confidence, Kalen, never anger.’”
“I remember throwing my training sword to the ground then and kicking it away. I was furious, frustrated with his cryptic teachings. My instructor shook his head. ‘I understand your frustration. Emotions are complicated but know only that I am trying to better you. It is time we moved on to real weapons – the timing is right for you to learn about real control. Take a few breaths and calm yourself. I do not wish to continue your training while you are like this.’”
Atheles voice jerked Kalen back to the present. “I don’t understand how you became so badly abused by an instructor who obviously had so much intelligence. From what you say he seemed to genuinely care for you,” he said.
“The man did not stay. When my mother saw the cut on my cheek she insisted I be punished for my ‘incompetence’, as she put it – 20 lashes,” said Kalen, his eyes darkening and his anger rising. “My teacher was ordered to give me 20 lashes for the cut cheek, on a child!” Kalen spat into the embers. Atheles pursed his lips and frowned.
“Naturally the man refused, even when my mother threatened his position but she found one of my other instructors far less stubborn and more than willing to carry out the punishment. I begged for mercy, of course, and the man who refused protested and threatened to leave if she went through with it but she just ignored us both.”
“I’m sorry Kalen. I cannot imagine what that must have been like,” said Atheles. Kalen sneered at him. “Did you hold that whip Atheles?” he retorted.
“No.”
“Then what are you sorry for?”
Atheles didn’t answer. Kalen stared at him for a moment then continued, “My instructor stayed for the first two lashes and then walked away to pack his things. Before leaving he found me alone, slumped against a pole, my head sagging as my still bound wrists kept my arms raised. A dark pool of blood seeped into the dusty ground around me, flowing from the open wounds across my back.”
A look of disgust crept across Atheles’ face as he pictured the bound and broken child. “Animals!” he spat. “That’s exactly what he said, at the time,” responded Kalen quietly. “He untied me, fetched a bucket of water and a cloth and dabbed at my wounds. I had never felt pain and humiliation like that before. My mother had used a cane on my legs many times and I had thought that painful, but it was nothing compared to the whip.”
Atheles began to understand a little more about his master, but due to the knowledge he had of his previous actions he couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy at the fact he now stared at the man with some sympathy. “As I started to regain my senses I looked around and saw the man’s bags. I looked up into his eyes with tears running down my cheeks and pleaded with him not to leave. He could not hold my look for long.”
Kalen paused for a moment as if that last memory brought something else to mind. “You are one of the few people I know to be able to hold my stare Atheles. I have always admired that about you,” admitted Kalen, much to Atheles surprise. What has gotten into you tonight Kalen? he thought.
“Anyway, my pleas fell on deaf ears. This man, the only instructor I actually cared for and looked up to, abandoned me. Told me he couldn’t stay or he would do something foolish, that no child should be treated in such a way. He told me never to let them break me,” Kalen’s eyes welled at the memory and as he turned away to look into the fire. Atheles, helped by firelight, noticed the tears upon his right cheek.
Kalen roughly wiped them away quickly but struggled to stop more from falling. “Look at me, a grown man snivelling like the wounded child I was on that very day,” he said, keeping his head turned away.
“I can’t believe he left like that. Surely a man of his intellect knew that walking away was no better than holding the whip himself?” Atheles asked. “Exactly,” said Kalen, locking his slightly reddened eyes on his companion. Despite being given credit for his ability to hold such a look moments before, Atheles switched his gaze to the fire. Kalen followed suit.
“I missed him terribly at first but as the punishments got worse and my remaining instructors became more bold and malicious, encouraged by my own mother, I began to hate him. With every lash I pictured his face, thought of the man who could have stopped what was happening to me but chose to walk away instead,” continued Kalen.
Atheles tried to console him. “He made a poor choice to be sure but hate is a strong emotion towards a man who showed you respect and compassion during his short time with you,” he said. Kalen offered no response for a moment, he just stared into the flames his demeanour melancholy.
“You are right Atheles, and as I said at first I did miss him but when you try to be strong against those that abuse you, hate can become a powerful ally. When you live with hate for long enough you lose focus on who or what you should be hating… it is all-consuming, indiscriminate.”
“And that is why such an emotion should be quelled as soon as it is felt,” said Atheles, looking to his master now, aware of the reaction he risked. Kalen ignored him. “Given time I developed resilience to the pain of the lash by drifting away into thoughts of blood and vengeance, picturing the faces of those who so abused me and the one… the one who walked away. I vowed that his death I would savour the most.”
Atheles understood Kalen’s thirst for vengeance but he could not bring himself to agree with his master’s choices. You have become no better than those who abused you Kalen, he thought. Perhaps far worse… “Did you ever find him? To exact your revenge?” asked Atheles, pulling himself from his thoughts. Kalen looked at his companion with piercing eyes and a malevolent grin, and Atheles felt his blood run cold.
“Oh yes, I found him… but I did not kill him,” responded Kalen, turning back to the fire once more. Atheles felt surprise for a moment before realising that Kalen’s punishment had probably been far worse than death. He considered pressing the matter but his master spoke again. “I forced that man to suffer in a way similar to my own. With emotional and physical scaring and, I am sure, a feeling of overwhelming helplessness.” As he finished speaking, Kalen spat on the ground.
“Did I ever meet him?” asked Atheles, eyeing him. Kalen just looked at him briefly then back at the fire. “The first life I ever took,” Kalen said, ignoring Atheles’ question. “One of my instructors… I knew my skills had surpassed his but I dared not risk killing him at my home. The punishments I received by then were most severe and for far more trivial things then killing a man.” Atheles felt annoyed by Kalen’s avoidance of his question but was eager to hear more about his master’s life.
“So I waited…” he continued. “When the day had ended and he left for his home I scaled our walls with ease and followed him. I picked my moment to strike carefully. He went through a small forest to save time on his journey, concealed from view. I remember the exhilaration, the pure adrenalin coursing through my veins as I moved swiftly behind him and lashed my boot into the back of his knee. As he fell
I wrenched my dagger across his throat. Blood spurted into the air and covered my hands.”
“And so circumstance and poor choice caused the death of an innocent child and gave birth to the cold-blooded killer I see before me now,” interrupted Atheles, sorrow in his eyes. Kalen smiled at him.
“You misunderstand Atheles. I took no pleasure in that kill. When the blood touched my skin the realisation of what I had done overcame me and I ran. I ran until my heart could take no more. When finally I stopped, my chest heaving, my nerves frayed, I vomited.” Atheles was taken aback, as the man he knew loved killing.
“I looked at the bloodied dagger in my hand accusingly and with all my strength I threw it far away. I found a stream and desperately washed my bloodstained hands. I stared at the reflection of a young man in that stream but I didn’t recognise the face. I felt as if a part of me had died. Like there would be no redemption for what I had just done. I fought back the sour taste that persisted in my mouth.” Kalen paused for a moment, deep in thought and Atheles caught the briefest hint of regret in his master’s face.
Kalen felt the giant’s eyes upon him and half-looking back he blinked and with a snigger said, “I vowed never to kill again.” No sooner had he finished the sentence he looked away again. Atheles could see the pain in the man and he wanted to feel pity for him but he had witnessed too much to truly feel it. Instead he bolstered himself to ask another risky question. “What changed?”
