“All these squares make a circle… All these squares make a circle…” With his rusted body leaning against the wooden wall, Evens mumbled while staring aimlessly down at the tiles of the meagre shed – though he was sure that there were no tiled floors, neither he nor Mother had the arks for that. I must be going mad… His mind felt as if it was suffocating with each passing second he was jailed in this cramped cage.
“What are you yammering on about?”
It was the first and only voice Evens had heard the entire day – yet he soon wished he hadn’t.
Mom walked gently into the house after an early morning of tireless work that she took upon herself. She still had a cloth wrapped around her wounded face, even though it had already ceased to hurt – perhaps she merely did not want to scare away potential patrons by greeting them with her caved head.
“Don’t know. Feels like my brain is melting in this steamy shack,” Evens moaned as he used what little strength he had left to raise him away from the wall and plummet down onto the cool stone floor. Despite faceplanting onto stones, he felt little pain, if any at all.
“If it’s that upsetting, then you’re free to step out to the garden,” Mom offered the moping toddler who was throwing a tantrum.
“How about I step out to the actual world instead?” Evens raised his neck up and glared at her.
It has been five days since he has been confined in this sty of a home by Mom, and though biding his time until the storm passes was not unfathomable to him – he wished not for Mom to shoulder earning all the arks while his body rotted away behind draped walls.
“You know I can’t let you do that, Evens.” Mom dodged Evens’s eyes, though only one of her red orbs was free of binding.
Evens had heard the same words hundreds of times over the past few days, and it only vexed his nerves the more she said it. “You are still going out and about earning arks! Why can’t I?” he hurled his decayed corpse up from the grave.
“They’re after you, not me.” As hard-headed as ever – her conviction remained firm as her fleece of steel.
“You say that – but I doubt that even Owl and Rupert are holing up in their sties like cowards.” Evens whinged while flapping his arms up and down like a child.
“Don’t worry. If you’re a coward, then your mother here is the biggest coward of them all,” Mother tried to console him – but to Evens, it only accomplished the opposite.
“If you wanna’ stay as one, you’re free to do so – but that right does not seem to be blessed unto me as well.”
Even Mom seemed to be at a loss for words as she frantically stroked her silver hair and mumbled beneath her breath – but no witty nor soothful retorts ever came from her lips. Defeated – she outwardly did not wish to yield to her son and once more depart from his private prison – a privilege that was too not blessed unto him.
“Oh, c’mon!” Evens shouted until his lungs emptied and gorge stung – yet the closed door would not respond back to his plea. That was the last of his strength and will, as his rusted body fell to the stone floor once more – its icy touch tingled feebly upon his many scars, though he could hardly care any longer, for at least, it could serve to quench his boredom ever so slightly. “All these squares make a circle… All these squares make a circle…”
*
It would seem the sun has descended, though time did not matter for one confined within their cage.
Still laying on the floor and now coated in more dust than a broom – Evens’s mind blanked with no thoughts to be had, while his limbs no longer felt as if they were parts of his body and more as if they were mere ornaments.
A sensation, a bit colder than the stone floor, brushed over his fingers and woke his body ever so faintly. Evens crept his neck to the corner, only to find Scrapper sneaking towards him and lying atop his belly as if he were a mount. Though it was merely a little meteras in the fleece of a mutt, it was still far heavier than a regular dog – yet, Evens hardly minded the heap of metal crushing his ribs, for it could at least help to shake off his rusted joints, albeit in a rather strange fashion.
How long has it been? The first thought that crossed Evens’s numbed mind as he petted the metal dome of his pet – it seemed to enjoy it, with his tail wagging back and forth.
He glanced around the house. Though it was small, there was so much stuff cramped within its walls. Dirty rags, sticks, baskets, and nets that aged back to when he was but a toddler. Their qualities were sloppy, as if they were made by crippled savages – Evens could hardly believe that Mom owned them, considering how uptight and meticulous she was. In fact, Evens had never seen such items anywhere in Screwpile before, even the poorest bums ought to be ashamed of wielding such pieces – but Mom seemed to have an attachment to them, even though Evens had never seen her used them, nor would she let Evens touch them.
As his mind and body began to doze off on the cool stone floor again – a faint shriek came within his earshot.
No matter how faint it was, upon hearing it, Evens burst up – startling the poor mutt who was snoozing atop his belly. The sound came from their garden – and there could only be one person there at the time, and he knew she would not have screamed like that for no reason.
No matter how deadened his limbs and sapped his mind were, Evens forced them to move. As if a ghost was chasing after him, Evens hastily reached for the nearest armament he could wield – a thin fishing rod carved from wood would have to do.
Without any time to put on his boots, Evens kicked the wooden door open and stormed outside, receiving the first ray of light and fresh breeze of air in days – yet none of those were enough to quell his disappointment and embarrassment upon setting his browned eyes onto the sight afront him.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked, unharmed and merely crouching while weeding the garden.
“I heard screaming… I thought you…” Evens panted wildly. His body had become rather weak after being stuck indoors for so long.
“A thorn pricked my finger, that’s all,” Mom grinned softly – she seemed to be rather content for someone who hurt herself, no matter how slightly.
Evens’s face reddened, and he dropped the fishing pole. He knew not what to say, especially after he stormed outside like a madman. Passer-by even peeked over their fences and sneered at him. Scrapper was the only one who tried to comfort him as he nudged its dome and snout against Evens’s leg.
However, it did not take long for the embarrassment to wane and for the awkwardness to reclaim its spot between the two family members.
Evens stood still and twiddled his thumbs, he knew not what to say, especially after his earlier outburst – but fortunately, Mom did it in place of him.
“Since you’re already out and about – mind helping me out here? It would do some good to shake your rust off,” Mom proposed.
“If you insist…” Evens moaned as if he had anything else better to do. He walked towards her and crouched down, with Scrapper tailing behind him.
“Keep your head low and voice lower.” Mom grabbed hold of Evens’s dome and pressed it downward. “Our shoddy shack should not be of any worth to them, but better safe than sorry.” She whispered before releasing her palm.
Still treating me like a kid, Evens did not bother to answer and began to pluck handfuls of wildflowers in silence – Mother, too, was quiet.
The two went on to weed the garden in total stillness, with the only noise coming from Scrapper’s barking. Though they were right next to each other, Evens felt as if they were worlds apart. He still remembered the way to root the weeds, yet he could barely keep up the pace with Mother – even though he was normally far stronger and faster than her.
Shit… Countless thorns sunk their fangs onto Evens’s hands – though they did not particularly hurt his palms that were already so used to scars and gashes, and rather, they just further irritated him. He shook his wrists relentlessly until the thorns flew off his skin – how Mother managed to only get pricked once was beyond him.
Evens peaked at his Mother – ensuring that her gaze would not catch his. She had been working before the sun awoke until now, and though her body was frail and small – she had not complained even once. Just thinking about it led him to yank a bundle of weeds out from the dirt – their roots still attached wholly, but the blades of flowers had been thoroughly crushed within his palm.
The time that flowed for the past five excruciating days was already as slow as is, and yet, somehow, the time he was spending in the garden was even slower. The silent tension in the heated summer air was nauseating, and Evens could no longer hold his lips bolted and tongue tied. “How’s your…” Evens pointed at her dome – he could not finish his sentence before his parched gorge gave up on him.
“Don’t worry your head over it. Nothing that your mother hasn’t faced before,” she simpered, though Evens could not understand what was there to smile at.
Evens prided himself on his strength and valour, but even he had not been dealt such a severe wound before – perhaps a fleshless shell like her really could not feel the same pain that a man of his flesh would.
That was all the efforts that he was willing to put in as Evens fell back into silence once more and carried on weeding the garden – his fried temple could not conjure another topic to discuss, even if it was to save his life.
It was Mom’s turn to break the silence this time. “If we’re talking about wounds, then you have it far worse than me,” she pointed at the many healed scars and faded stitch marks littered throughout every nook and cranny on Evens’s body.
“They itch at times, sure – but I can’t really remember when the last time that they genuinely hurt.” To test his mettle, Evens squeezed the ones on his left forearm – and he felt almost nothing.
Though his trivial test of might did not seem to particularly amuse nor relive Mother of her worries. “If I could, I’d never have let you suffer those cuts…” her tender voice broke faintly as she muttered.
“Now you don’t go and worry your head over it either. Not as though it was your fault anyway,” Evens tried to comfort her, though it was not as if he was lying – after all, she was not his actual mother, so she should not have to bear the responsibility of his birth.
“You don’t ask it anymore, do you?” Mom whispered, unfettering herself from her bawling muddle.
“No, I’m good,” Evens responded quickly – he had all but lost interest in a question with no answer a long time ago. “You prefer that, anyway, don’t you?”
“Regardless of what I want… I do not know much myself either.” Mom murmured. “All my life I’ve spent caring for you – but no matter how hard I try, I’m sure you’d feel much more warmth from the ones who’d carved you to life.” Her bitter smile felt as if it was hiding away much larger things than mere droplets of tears.
“Their worth best be etched onto my flesh if you want me to care for some folks whose faces I could not paint even in my purest dreams.” His awful attempt at comforting his mother ensued – and to the same little degree of success.
“You should not speak of them like that.”
Evens knew not how else he should have spoken of them – and all he could do was merely stare at his mother’s feeble smile, imbued with sorrow that seeped past even her mask of cloth. “So, where did you nab me from? Was it at a slave auction or the back alley of some broth–”
Evens did not finish his jest before Mom flung a handful of dirt and grass at his face – if her face was not reddened in anger like a boiling pot before, then it sure was now.
“Alright, sorry. My bad…” Evens apologised – though Mom’s face did not seem to soften any slightly.
He really did not know what to say. All his life, he has been taught and shown how to be crude and bitter by the folks he’s met – so he hardly has anywhere to go in terms of decorum.
He scrambled his fainted mind to think of another topic until he scarcely found one. “So, how was I? Was I as much of a pain in the ass as I am now?” Evens asked, genuinely for once.
“Where do I even begin?” Mom rolled her ruby eyes – though, at least she was no longer sulking. “A tiny beast you were. No other babes were or ever will be like you.” She sighed aloud. “Crying and soiling yourself all the time. You’d fancy eating mouthfuls of dirt rather than homemade paps–”
That’s enough! Evens screamed eternally as he incessantly yanked wads of weeds out of the dirt, hoping that it’d clear his mind from the thoughts that Mother planted into his dome – though it was not enough to stop her rambling.
“Your gashes were a handful to restitch every single night for months,” her snarky tone dwindled slightly. “When you finally reached the age you could walk and talk, all you’d do is concoct weird and dodgy contraptions,” she sighed once more in pain – but it was outwardly not painful enough for her to cease reminiscing days gone by.
“One gotta’ learn somewhere. Some of the kids oughta’ be counting their lucky stars that they’ve met me.” Evens goaded despite his reddened cheeks – after all, if not for his crafty antics, Rupert wouldn’t have been given another chance to walk on both feet.
“And how many had to suffer your wily tricks for the few to gather what they wanted? I swear, the amount of time I had to apologise to different parents may have aged these old bones mightily.”
Of that, Evens had no words to defend his merits – he could only chuckle wryly while desperately avoiding Mother’s icy glare.
“Handful, bratty, and stubborn – that was my time with you and more,” Num worded sternly. “And I’ve never loathed a single moment of it.” Mom smiled gently.
His once cherried face further reddened, even slightly burning the scars over his head. “Mom…” Evens whimpered like a child for once since forever.
At the hint of Evens’s ruffled mess, Scrapper rolled over and rubbed his fleece onto Evens as if to comfort him. He was rough to the touch, and his paws were as sharp as daggers – but Evens could not possibly push Scrapper aside when he was panting at him so innocently, with his tail wagging back and forth.
“He’s a good boy. Cherish him, always.” Mom looked at the two, and her beam widened.
“Well, of course,” Evens patted Scrapper’s dome, and the mutt, too, barked back in response to Mom.
The joyful time under the golden sun did not linger for long. Even the garden would soon be cleansed, the loudest barks would cease, and the tranquil silence would end.
The sound of a deep breath taken and then released came out from Mother. “If you wish to leave, you may.”
Evens stopped his palm from stroking Scrapper’s ears. “And why would I want to do that?” Evens asked, his voice wavering slightly.
Mom's slanted eyes and droll smile told him that she did not believe a single word that came from his mouth. “It pains me to see you in pain, but it’s even worse if I’m the one who wreaks it upon you.” Her scarlet pupils seemed to gloss under the light of the slumbering day. “It’s not just you either – it feels as if the entire world has been still for the longest time.”
Evens gripped a handful of weeds and yanked it out forcefully, yet he did not manage to this time – his strength had seeped and went elsewhere.
“The Centum Order cages us in a tiny land, unwilling to let us escape and be free. I do not wish to do the same to you any longer.” She would not stop her futile drivel.
“Of course, you’d only give your blessing now and not the years of my life I’ve spent begging you–” Evens derided. For years, she has banned any notion of leaving her side at the Bottom Barrel, and yet her stance on the matter had changed wholly after a mere afternoon of gardening.
“So here’s your chance.” Lastly, her eyes had met his, but he no longer wanted to endure their judging gaze. “Run to the valleys if you wish. Sail to the seas if that’s what you fancy. Fly to the stars if it’s needed. Step far away from this land.” Mother has never once uttered those words, nor had she ever implored Evens to do anything aside from hiding away in her nest.
“If you think I’m just going to up and leave you because some steels are on our doorstep, then I’m afraid you don’t know your son all that well.” Evens perished the thought, yet he still could not pluck the wildflowers from their roots.
Mom did not dwell further on the matter. For once, the cloth binding her wound wholly masked away her face, and Evens could not tell whether she was happy or sad, or both – and Evens neither knew whether he should console or rebuke her, or both.
“Speaking of us steels, boy?” A haughty voice – strange to the both of them disturbed their quarrel.
How? Evens’s body moved on its own and leapt a step backwards, trying to hide within the shade casted by the roof – but it was too late.
The steelman was staring straight at him with his purple eyes. If not for his fancy decorated garment and the rally of ecliants in black at his standby, Evens would not have believed that such a stout and short ecliant could be a Sentinel.
Why are they here? Evens was baffled. As Mother said, their shack was small and humble, and they even tried to stay quiet – yet the Sentinels still found them.
At the right of the fat ecliant was a cloaked figure – his hood of black covered all but his dark skin and silver orbs, glaring disdainfully at Evens as if he owed him arks.
Behind both of them was a band of Sentinels, twenty of them crooks engaged the entire vicinity – with no folks of the Bottom Barrel in sight. There was no chance that Evens wouldn’t have been aware of such a large group looming near them unless they purposefully crept up on their home.
“No one to be found here, gents. But if you’d like to waste your time and rummage through our humble abode – by all means.” Mom has not budged an inch from where she crouched. Unbothered by the invading army, she paid more heed to the invasive weeds upon her small garden – but though she may be able to fool the Sentinels, her paltry act and sweaty palms could never elude Evens.
“I don’t doubt that, ma’am. If the infamous Firstkind has to resort to petty wiles like hiding away in such a pitiful hut – well then, they would scarcely be worth this precious time of mine.” The swine in Sentinel attire cackled – then followed by his still minions, albeit their feeble laughter wasn’t as jaunty and brash as their master.
Neither Evens nor Mom graced him their attention, merely hoping that he’d soon lose interest and leave. The fishing pole he had dropped earlier was in the range of his grasp – a slight flick with his foot would be enough to retrieve it, but a discreet glare from Mother halted any attempt.
“Nothing to say? This may be your last chance,” the apparent commander of the present Sentinels twirled his curly golden hair rather menacingly – though he did not leave any time for his prey to answer, not as though Evens had given him one. “Fine then. You country swine really need to brush up on your courtesy.” He rubbed his chubby chin before facing Evens. “Boy. You’re coming with us.”
What? Evens mumbled faintly.
“What!?” Mom blurted out loudly and rose up from where she crouched. “My son has nought to do with the rebels,” she shouted at the Sentinel’s face, not caring about the difference in rank.
“That’s up for me to decide. Don’t blame me – blame that he was cursed to be born in that fleece.” The stout scoundrel shoved Mother off of him – nearly felling her to her heels.
Bastard… Evens cursed silently. He doubted the Sentinels even believed Evens was a rebel – it was not uncommon to hear of stories about humans and steelborns being arrested in mass to fill the mountain pits of the Ironmount Institution.
“If you need a body to be buried in the mines – then take me instead. My body of steel would be far stronger than the mere flesh of a human,” Mom pleaded on her knees.
Evens would never accept such a trade. “Absolutely not–”
“Please keep hold of yourself, ma’am. If we could – we would not want to condemn ones that do not bleed.” The hooded man from behind stepped forward – he seemed strangely familiar to Evens, but he could not tell for sure with the hood masking away half of his face. Though, Evens’s foot felt a slight sore the longer he stared at the black ecliant.
As if they were in a standoff, silence descended upon them. None would take a step, nor would utter a sound.
Though Mother was still feigning distress afront the Sentinels, behind her back where only Evens could see, her hands were gesturing for Evens to escape – but that would never happen even if he wanted to, as the entire house has already been surrounded by Sentinels.
“C’mon, boy. How about you stop wasting both of our time and get this over with? I still have a few more blocks left to hunt before the day ends,” the hog commander yawned.
“And you’re wasting your precious time on a mere human like me? How honoured I am,” Evens gulped while trying to muster the usual snarky tone that he would have even when faced with the largest meterases or the foulest fiends, but it was not so easy this time – for his life was not the only one that was in danger.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“I couldn’t care less about you, boy. Now will you get a move on, or do you need some motivation?” the arrogant ecliant picked his nose with his pinkie, unbecoming for the lordly guise he was trying to brandish.
Evens held no answer to his demand. One person ordered for his head, while another wished for him to stay still behind her – and Evens had no will of his own to decide. His smirk still persisted, but he could already feel the sweat dripping down his neck and soaking his palms. The water of his own makings further seeped into the tiny gaps of bygone gashes whom he had believed to have already been healed wholly long ago – and for the first time in a long time, it scorched his wounds as if a burning iron rod was pressed against them.
Impatient with the lack of ripostes and out of breath from merely standing – the fat lord sighed and gestured something to his hooded lackey.
Upon receiving the order, the dark Sentinel reached within his thick cloak – and with a movement faster than Evens could react to, a blade of wind flew out from under his garment.
The sharp gale breezed Evens’s foot before he could react – but it neither pierced his boot nor did the tender whimpers come out of his mouth.
Scrapper! Evens leapt down to catch the wounded mutt – his knees wholly collapsed and crushed upon the ground, but he cared not. A dagger has pierced halfway into Scrapper’s stomach – if not for it being a meteras, it’d have surely died on impact. Even with a blade lodged in its innards, the hound still barked and bared its fangs – wishing to protect his master. Evens tore the sleeve off of his ragged shirt and wrapped it around the puncture – he was no doctor, but he prayed to Ark that his sloppy bandaging and a meteras’ steel skin would serve meanwhile. It’s alright, boy… Evens whispered to Scrapper before laying the hound behind him, where his master could now defend him.
Not satisfied with merely harming Scrapper, the stout Sentinel kicked down the wooden fence and letterbox that Evens had worked so tirelessly to make and raise. He trampled upon Mother’s garden and yanked her by her hair towards him.
You son of a… Evens lunged forward but was soon impeded in his path by the hooded ecliant.
Mother desperately scratched and clawed at the Sentinel’s burly arms, but he looked unfazed by it all. For a man of short limbs and thick skin as him, Evens did not expect him to carry that much strength to be able to pin down Mother – the might blessed from birth to an ecliant, perhaps.
“Your little mutt was not enough – you’d even want me to soil my hands with your mommy’s tears as well? How cruel, boy. No wonder the tainted blood of men were abandoned by Ark,” the bastard goaded while shaking her frail head around by her silver tail. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s worse – having to stain my hands with the blood of a filthy human brat or one of an archaic doll?” he shook and squeezed her body as if she was no more than a puppet for him to toy with.
“Just surrender, and we’ll let her go.” The man facing him forewarned Evens, yet his irate tone and rigid stance did not paint that of a man who wished to avoid conflict.
Evens hesitated, and his limbs faltered – after all, they had been enfeebled due to the passing days. From the close distance he stood, Evens could see his silver orbs and dark skin clearer – they brought back strange headaches to him, but it was hardly the time to figure out the cause.
“Run, Evens! Run!”
A shout – so desperate yet so tender dried Evens from his cold sweat as he ignored the assailer afront him and back to the one who mattered.
“Hold your tongue, wench.” The lordly commander furiously jolted Mother’s steel body while still holding onto her hair – as if she was a toy for him to relieve stress.
The painted sight no longer allowed hesitation to be housed in his body – even if his mind had to shut down for his body to run wild, so be it. Unminding the hindrance in his path, Evens reached for the fishing pole, and with a swift flick by his foot, the rod launched into the air and landed in his grasp. With a fighting chance in hand, Evens lunged forward once more.
The hooded figure tried to halt Evens’s advance. He was fast for someone who was endowed in a long cloak - but Evens knew that, and with his pole, he struck the blinded ecliant by his ankles where he could not see.
It tripped the Sentinel to his knees, but it did not take long for him to reclaim his footing – Evens should have known better than to resort to petty tricks against a trained soldier. Evens could not tell for sure whether under the heavy attire of his lay a body of might or meagreness – yet regardless of his hidden stature, the ecliant was strong, far stronger than most humans Evens had met.
Countless blows from Evens’s lance were swung at the buzzing ecliant, far enough for Evens to even slay tens of meterases – yet none could even graze the cloth of his cloak. The ecliant even refused to use any sort of weaponry against Evens, and he merely resorted to effortlessly dodging and parrying Evens’s swings with his bare hands.
How strong is he? Evens’s arms were beginning to tire from swinging so much to no avail – yet despite feeling as if his muscles were tearing with each swing, Evens’s possessed body refused to yield.
“Not so easy when you’re not resorting to cheap tricks?” the ecliant sneered amidst their bout – his snarky tone infuriated Evens like no other.
In a moment of weakness where even Evens wasn’t aware that his arms were no longer swinging – the cloaked opponent caught Evens’s lance between his palm and snatched it away from Evens’s grasp. With his rod stolen away, it was the ecliant’s turn to return furious pummels unto Evens.
His head shook left and right – with blood splattering about like a geyser as if the cuts and scars upon his face had never healed. He could feel his cheeks swelling and crushing in turn. His teeth broke apart in his mouth and pierced his tongue and gums. His nose felt as if it had caved into his skull – leaving a mould of the ecliant’s fist on his face. Pull your punches, man… What did I ever do to you? Evens panted – his few chances to breathe only came between each blow. Even amidst the ruthless assault, Evens could still see Mom from the corner of his swollen eyes and blistered lids – her mouth shouting and eyes crying as if pleading for them to stop.
“Between you and me – I do not mind if you would not yield just yet.” The deviant mumbled while his knuckles still pounced upon Evens’s face – ensuring that his commander could not hear nor see his distorted colour.
Neither do I… Evens ate blow after blow – abiding his time. His body wanted to crumble to the dirt – but not yet. His mind wanted to doze away and depart to the land of dreams – but not yet. His will wanted to yield to his foe – but never. It was a simple fact that even a kid from a backwater corner of Xearth like Evens knew – as long as life moves, it’d stop in due time.
The fury of punches dwindled by the seconds, and the sound of the ecliant’s knuckles crushing upon Evens’s skull was overwhelmed by his relentless panting. The cloaked Sentinel dropped his bruised fists to his knees and began to gasp desperately for air while sweat drenched his face – all as if he had just awoken from a terrible nightmare.
While the ecliant was gasping for air and shaking his blistered knuckles – Evens’s body had rested ever so slightly amidst the beating. Evens spared the drained ecliant the same mercy that he granted to Evens and grabbed him by the collar of his black hood.
Evens lifted the scoundrel up to his height, where even Even’s bashed eyes could meet the ecliant’s silver orbs and even his rather fair face. Maybe I have seen him… Yet it hardly mattered any longer – Evens whipped his neck as far back as he could before catapulting his dome onto the Sentinel’s face. Evens could feel his forehead shattering the bones of the once fair-faced ecliant to dust – all while drizzling in the blood that was, at last, not of his.
His headbutt sent the ecliant flying away from his grasp and landed his fainted body upon the garden – while Evens still stood on both feet. Unlike Evens, he doubted that the Sentinel ever knew how it felt to have his entire body littered with scars and gashes that numbed most pain evermore.
His unique body may have granted him the might to withstand more injury than most humans and steelmen – but it did not give him superhuman strength. Evens’s head felt as if it was drowning from within while his eyes were seeing mirages of everyone present. Yet he still limped forward, with blood dribbling from his dowsed head onto each footprint left behind – to the horror of Mother and her captor as they gandered at Evens’s staggering corpse.
“Stay back!” the craven of a Sentinel squealed – despite him possessing an army at his command.
“Stay back, Evens!” Mother, too, shrieked, though it was blotted out by her kidnapper's scream.
Evens did not heed either’s request and kept marching forward – for if he stopped now, he doubted that his body would be able to stand up once more.
“I said stay back! Or else–” The coward clumsily unsheathed the sword hung by his waist and held it by Mother’s neck.
“Or else you’d do what, Heart Commander?” A vast shadow loomed over the stout commander from behind – a giant of a man spoke down at him from above with a voice that was graver than a thunderstorm. His mane and orbs glimmered like gold, and his bulging muscles were barely contained under his navy vest that was far more decorated with medals than even the fat man’s.
His mere voice seemed to bring a shiver to the arrogant lord as he slowly twisted his neck back. “Lord Six!?” the pathetic Heart Commander stuttered at the sight of the giant and released Mom from his grubby grasp.
Mom! Evens wished to limp hurriedly to her side, but his legs would not budge no matter how hard he pushed and strained them. Move, damn it! Evens grunted until he gargled blood from his gorge.
“It seems that boy did quite a number on your own boy,” another man revealed himself from behind the giant and slicked back dark wavy hair. Though he was far smaller than the man named Six, he still seemed to have a smug manner about him, as if he was on equal footing with the giant himself.
Bereft of any false pride he once gloated – the Commander of the Heart Corp melted to a reddened and stuttering heap of lard.
“Anything to say for yourself, Lord Senu?” the supposed Lord Six probed the muted Sentinel.
“What should I be saying? I need not your permission to move on my will,” any last ounce of pride the pitiful lord had left was poured into that act of defiance.
“I sincerely implore you to recant your words, Lord Senu.” The smug man behind the giant said as he straightened his fancy vest.
“A mere Wing like you have no rights to lord me around either, boy. Now hold your tongue while the men are speaking,” the fat man tried to intimidate him, but he hardly seemed scared.
“If not from me, then what about His Heavenlier? To keep the ruin to a minimum was his will – or do you wish to disobey his orders as well?” the colossus ecliant reminded the pudgy ecliant.
The commander was at a loss for words, with air being the only rebuttal to come out of his mouth – but his pride forced his tongue to speak regardless. “Lies! I’ve never received such commands from His Heavenlier. Don’t you dare try to wreak distrust between me and His Heavenlier, you scoundrel!” he shouted at the giant from above – fancying himself a humble hero challenging a great dragon, perhaps.
For how proud he was of his sudden speech – no cheers nor awes were given to the bold lord from onlookers. His outburst shocked everyone in sight – even his allies and foes had their jaws agape as they quickly avoided the eyes of the golden giant. Evens knew skimpily about the Prime Sentinel, Archetype Six, aside from that, he was the most hated man in Xearth – but even he knew not to have done what the commander did.
“I guess he was right. I’ve been far too lenient with you, it would seem.” The giant sighed, and the crowd went silent. “Let this be your one and only lesson…” he whispered to the lord afront him – but all could hear his words amidst the deafening silence.
The Heart Commander scoffed at the Prime Sentinel’s face before scratching his blonde dome in puzzlement. “What are you waffli–”
Before even a single puff of breath could gush out of his chubby cheeks – the back of the giant’s hand struck across his face as if it were a battering ram. His paw, the size of a bear and twice that of its victim’s skull sent the commander into the air as if the swine weighed no more than a feather – before his rounded body struck down like a meteor and collided with the wooden fence, breaking it wholly.
The once silent Sentinels all squeaked in fear and disbelief – all except for the purple-eyed one by the side of the Prime Sentinel.
Smacking a man that no doubt weighted more than a boulder to the air seemed to not even break a single drop of sweat upon the giant’s face – stretching his wrist in the aftermath was all he needed.
The petrifying yet enthralling display of might seemed to have brought slight vigour back to Evens’s body, as he then wasted no time in willing his legs to hobble towards his mom. “Are you alright?” he knelt down and rose her up from the dirt – despite how light Mom was, his throbbing arms felt as if they were lifting a mountain.
“Do not mind me now.” Mom softly slapped Evens’s hand away from her shoulder. “You should run away… to wherever you want…”
“Be quiet already. I ain’t leaving–”
“You don’t get to decide that!” A familiar and vexing voice shouted out. The now unhooded Sentinel, who Evens thought to have knocked out, has awoken. The blow upon his face seemed to no longer faze him as he instantly dashed towards the giant. “My utmost apology, Lord Prime. On behalf of my Lord, please allow me to shoulder the fault for this egregious blunder.” He bowed gracefully despite his forehead painted red and nose crooked to the left.
“Regrettably, you failed to keep your promise to me. The trust that Nine put in you seemed to be unfound. How disappointing.” The Prime Sentinel uttered words of contempt. “There will be time for excuses and sentences later. Because of the stunts that you’ve pulled, we have no other choice but to halt the hunt for the night.” He turned his face away from Evens’s humble home – and with a single wave of his hand, all the standby Sentinels rallied in rows behind his navy-coated back.
Are they leaving? Evens stuttered – he could not believe his eyes, and it’d seem neither was Mom. Mother clutched her palm tightly onto Evens’s, and despite her fleece of steel – it felt warm ever so feebly. Though their house may have been ransacked, their fences ruined, and the garden spoiled – Evens was sure that, together, they could make them anew. “Somehow, we made it–”
“Wait, sir!” the unyielding ecliant screamed out.
Just give up already, Evens clicked his tongue – he perhaps should have headbutted him harder, but that would have been too cruel even for Evens.
“You better have a good reason for this, Sentinel Symon.” The Prime Sentinel reverted his gaze, his golden pearls no longer mellow but sullen.
“I understand that our blunder is inexcusable – but please, we could not just let these miscreants go unpunished after all they have committed,” the dark ecliant crawled over to his fainted lord by the wooden wreckages that were once fences that Evens so painstakingly built.
This sly bastard… Evens gnashed his teeth – on second thought, he really should have headbutted him harder.
“A mere human boy and its nanny? You best be counting your blessings that I’ve yet to strip you of your badge for tarnishing our order.” Though his admonishments were meant for the defiant ecliant, Evens couldn’t help but feel slighted as well.
“I will accept whatever punishment that comes my way, but regardless of the wrongs we’ve done – this same boy and nanny, as you’ve put it, have disgraced the venerable Commander of the Heart Corp. If you were to let people like that be free of consequence – what would that say about your headship, Lord Prime?” the silver-eyed ecliant lifted his commander up from the ruin, and despite his own injuries, he still rested the portly lord upon his shoulder.
“Awfully demanding for a man in your situation right now. Are you sure that’s the tone you want to use with me?” the giant’s grumble akin to that of a lion – or at least what Evens would think a lion sounds like.
“I meant no offence, Lord Prime. But I believe it’d do some good in order to instil a valuable lesson not only to the Sentinels but the common folks as well.”
“And here I thought I was silvered in tongue,” the Sentinel who stood by the wing of the Prime Sentinel smirked. “But he does have a point, Boss. As you’ve admitted – you have been rather forbearing these days. We wouldn’t want every rookie to mistake your mercy for flaws.”
For a behemoth of a man – he seemed terribly temperate and indecisive when faced with the pleas of his underlings. The Prime Sentinel shut his eyes and pondered in silence amidst the suffocating battlefield as if he was meditating in a fair meadow – yet none dared to disturb or question his act. With a lungful breath gusted out of him, the giant opened his lids and fixed his golden orbs upon Evens and Mother.
“Please… I’m begging you…” Mom mumbled so faintly that it’d be a wonder if anyone else could hear it besides Evens.
“A parent should shoulder their children’s mistakes. That was what I was taught.” The giant spoke to the steel dwarf – but his words did not feel as if they were his. “But I’m no good in that regard. So I would ask of you – is that true?” his piercing glare stabbed at Mother – a lesser man would have crumbled at the sight, but a servicebot akin to her had an iron will.
Without help from Evens, Mom sluggishly stood up on her own two feet – for she knew Evens would not have allowed her to stand up. “You take care of yourself, Evens.” With her short and frail arms, she hugged Evens wholly – her ruby eyes faded to a rosy tint from the teary gloss. “Run, sail, fly – far away from here, and don’t look back.” Her voice held firm for as long as she could hold, but her body would not cease to shiver.
Please… Don’t… Evens knew not what to think nor feel – his mind felt as if it was drowning, and his arms refused to let go of her, but his strength seemed to sap away with each passing moment. With his might abandoning his husk – Mother did not need much effort to release herself from his embrace. As she slowly walked towards the giant and had her wrists shackled in steel – Evens desperately wished to raise his arms forward, but it felt as if anchors were chained onto his limbs, condemning the souls of the weak and craven.
Still hurling his lord on his back, the unhooded Sentinel scurried hastily toward the Prime Sentinel. “No, Lord Prime! Get the boy! What use is there for a servicebot? That’s not what we ne–” He never finished his sentence, for the giant’s glare was at last enough to silence him.
“Let us leave.” The Commander of All Sentinels commanded, and all heeded his command – with Mom tailing him from behind.
Where am I even supposed to run to? Evens shivered for the first time in a long while. It was not that of weariness that he felt when contesting against the Sentinel – but it was fear, yet not fear of dying, but fear of losing. Losing the sole person who cared for him his entire life, losing his honour as a son to defend his kin, or losing his valour as a warrior for fleeing from a worthy foe – his mind and body could agree on none. The further the Sentinels and his Mother parted from the hovel and down the empty street, the wilder his heart beat – as if to cry out his challenge to the parting party. The scars and gashes on his body – they spoke to him, goading him to grant them new neighbours. Though his head was tattered and jumbled, his limbs twisted and maimed, his spirit crushed and soiled – an ember remained lit in his heart as if it had never died. Losing was no longer an option for Evens – even if he had to dig his nails into the dirt and crawl on his path. So be it…
As he did once before, Evens flicked the fishing pole up from the ground – it felt right at home in his palms. His body dared not to defy his indomitable mind, and he stormed towards the captor of his mother.
It was a shoddy plan of attack – one conducted in the open street of the Bottom Barrel where any Sentinels could have seen coming, yet none attempted to stop his advance towards their leader.
“Evens, stop!” Mom shouted when she saw Evens, but it was too late for him to halt his charge.
Evens was inched apart from his target, and the giant had yet to turn his back – after all, a man of his might tended should not possess equal nimbleness. This was his last chance. As high as his arms would grant him, the lance within his grasp rose to the sky and rivalled the zenith of the dawning sun.
The lance descended. Its mere descension quaked Evens’s entire body – yet the swing never delivered its intended blow.
Evens was wrong once again. Mere moments before the rod grazed upon the Prime Sentinel’s dome – in a fraction of that instant, the giant of an ecliant twisted his whole body over and clashed the lance against his forearm.
It shattered in contact – the fishing rod, that is. Yet Evens had no time to lament or dispute the unfairness of the world – he snatched the then two sticks born from the broken rod and wielded them in tangent. He had more experience on the field than most due to his years of confronting bandits and meterases – but even he had not attempted to wield two arms before.
Tilting left to right, leaping up and down, spinning in all corners – Evens swung wild and frenzied blows at the Prime Sentinel, but despite his burly body, the giant dodged all of Evens’s effortlessly, all without barely even moving away from his post.
“Why won’t you die!?” Evens roared as his fury of blows became even faster and wilder – yet it was still unable to faze the beast of an ecliant.
As if he was a titan scourging into a hurricane – with his long arm, the Prime Sentinel reached past Evens’s futile blows and gripped his palm wholly around Evens’s neck. Evens felt as if a stone statue was sculpted onto him – no matter how hard he struck the ecliant, he’d not release Evens. The beast managed to effortlessly hold Evens to the air with one hand. As air left his body and struggled to return, Evens’s hands lost their strength, and the arms he bore slipped from his fingers.
“Cease this, boy. Why must you struggle so much for one whose blood you do not share?” the giant asked – Evens could not tell whether he was being condescending or he was genuinely curious.
Evens could not possibly give the giant a satisfying riposte even if he had the breath to – for he, too, despised the truth of it. Why should I care? My blood is already tainted… With the last remnants of might in his arms and breath in his cheeks, Evens placed his palms onto the Prime Sentinel’s boulder-like shoulders – and akin to a slingshot, he slung his body upward and kneed the giant to his chin, yet his knee felt like a plank of wood bashing upon a hunk of steel.
Despite how more painful it was for Evens’s knee rather than his foe’s chin, the blow managed to shake the giant from his post – albeit by only two steps.
Evens fell to the dirt. He desperately gasped for air, though his blistered lips and crooked nose made it far harder and more throbbing than it should. He glanced over at the giant, and while Evens was sprawling around in the mud with a crushed throat, the Prime Sentinel merely suffered a faint graze on his chin – though perhaps that was quite impressive for what a human could do to an ecliant, particularly one as mighty as him.
The standby Sentinels had their jaws unhinged, and eyes popped out from their sockets as well and began to enclose upon Evens at the command of the haughty Sentinel whom Evens had presumed to be no more than a docile jester for the Prime Sentinel.
“Evens!” Mother cried out – though Evens’s ears could hardly hear her words any longer.
I guess this is it… Evens panted – submitting to his fate as the Sentinels encroached closer with their swords, spears, and bows.
“All of you – hold your post.” The Prime Sentinel roared – and the cubs listened. He marched two steps towards Evens. “Not bad for a human, boy. You cherish your family that much?” the victor stood tall over the defeated.
Once again, an answer could not leave his mouth even if he wanted to – it was taking all he had just to breathe, yet even that was soiled by the metallic scent of his blood.
“You see, Lord Prime! This savage even had the temerity to bear his fangs upon yourself! Surely, even you could not ignore such a dire transgression,” the dark-fleeced Sentinel urged the Prime Sentinel once more.
“You sure do not know when to shut up, do you? It’s like seeing myself in a mirror… a very ugly mirror,” the Prime Sentinel’s lackey chastised the desperate ecliant. “Yet again, there is truth in his words, Boss. The boy has committed far too many offences to just simply ignore now.” He glanced up at the giant.
The giant fell into silence pondering once more, as he gently caressed his bruised chin. His soldiers did not even seem to be bothered by their leader’s penchant – a reoccurring procedure for them, perhaps.
While the giant granted Evens some moment of rest – he took what little chance he had left to look at Mom, whose steel face was paler than snow and damper than rain.
“What have you done?” she mumbled wordlessly, but Evens could tell from her lips.
“Very well, then.” The giant stated. His words demanded the attention and awe of all who were present. “You’re free, but your son will take your place.” The Prime Sentinel decreed afront for all to bear witness before unshackling Mother from her binding.
At last… Evens was not surprised at the verdict – he was longing for it, and it’d seem the hell he had put his body through was worth it.
“No, please! Take me instead! The boy would do you no good in the mines! I’m a far better suit!” Mom pleaded and bowed at the giant’s feet as she yanked at the handcuff – but her strength could not hope to match that beast of an ecliant.
The kindness was granted to him – the least Evens could do was to muster what little strength was housed left in his shell and lift his body up once more to make way towards his soon-to-be captor. As he walked towards where they stood, with his neck crumpled, mind numbed, and body tattered – he merely stared at his mother kindly for the first time in the longest time before holding his wrists out to the giant. “Take care of Scrapper while I’m gone,” he whispered to Mother. With the same shackles that were bonded to Mom, the giant chained Evens. “Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon.” Evens smiled, it was taking everything he had to hold the smile.
His mother, as if her soul had wholly departed from her body and reverted to a steel lifeless shell, crumbled to her knees – her pupils dilated and whitened as she mumbled garbled verses beneath her breath. The sight of his mother weeping on the dirt felt worse than pikes piercing his eyes – Evens could no longer bear it and averted his gaze away.
Evens glanced at the Sentinel, who so dreadfully vied for his downfall – his detestable grin was clear as day under his hood, even though Evens did not know why. You got what you wanted. Happy? Evens spat at him.
The Prime Sentinel handed Evens to a separate squadron for them to escort him away. It was only then that he noticed how many other human residents of the Bottom Barrel were also being towed away in mass. Yet, despite being sent to prison – Evens felt not like a scoundrel. Instead, his will burned bright, and his heart thumped strongly as if he was a hero for repaying his debt to the sole person he was in debt to – though no matter how hard he clenched his fists tightly and stiffened his lids until they stung, the feeble sound of her tears dripping to the ground was bringing him to the verge of tears as well.
He had only taken his first few steps, yet he had already begun to miss this stinking pigsty of a town that he had called home for most of his life. With each bootstep forward, Evens twisted his head to every corner – to paint the Bottom Barrel clearly into his memory for the last time. The pitiful dwellers who spent their days complaining about the harsh trials delivered to them by Ark, the crumbling houses and keeps that looked like they were erected by maddened men, the damp and metallic air that suffocated your lungs rather than rejuvenating them, the pathetic two-headed dog embroidered upon the city’s flag – there weren’t much to remember the Bottom Barrel by, all things considered.
Now that’s a sight I haven’t seen in a while… A fitting farewell as any, I suppose. As Evens reached the hearth of the vilest corner of Xearth – a sole semblance of pride that the residents of the Bottom Barrel had lay erected with all of its might and beauty. A statue carved in white marble portrayed Kenny of the Barrel – a legendary figure amongst humans who perished as a martyr who fought against the injustice of ecliants. The spotless statue stood taller than even the giant he had just fought, with one arm pointed to the sky where Ark aboded and the other embracing his pale mistress. As grand as the sculpture was, Evens was not born when its marbles were carved – so he could not tell how truthful it was to the real person.
It’d seem that the statue did not only catch Evens’s eyes, but so was the Prime Sentinel himself – though it was less of an admirable gaze and more of an irate glare.
“C’mon. Get a move on already.” The Sentinel assigned to detain Evens shoved him forward with the blunt end of his spear.
If that had happened normally, Evens would most likely have lunged himself against the Sentinel and robbed him of his spear – but the strength to do so has all but sapped away. As Evens kept walking forward, he caught the last glimmer of Kenny of the Barrel – and he wondered if one day, he too would earn a statue carved in his honour, or perhaps, he’d need to carve his own.
In his final moment in the curst land, Evens huffed the last of its tainted air into his crushed lungs, and for once since his time dwelling here, it held nought a hint of blood, grime, nor metal – perhaps this was the fresh beginning of a journey that he so wished for ever since he was carved to life. Nah, who am I kidding? Evens chuckled feebly as the tender breeze bid its bitter farewell upon his body, entombed with faded marks.