Everyone has finished their laps now, except me. I cannot run any further, my body barely limping up the steps now. The only thing keeping me going, the anger that wells like a boiling ocean trapped in a small bottle, the steam driving me forward. I will not give him the satisfaction of watching me fail. That is all I have left of my pride. I cannot give up. If he means to break me, he will fail, not I.

When I finish my last lap I do not know how long it has been. My mind is fuzzy, my steps uneven. I use the walls to support me as I stagger back towards the assembly room. The halls stretch for what feels like an eternity, above me I hear the hum of a Bipki drone watching me, following me, watching my suffering.

I approach the assembly room now, my eyes taking it in. I see everyone sitting, eyes closed - meditating, facing the center. Dargo sits upon the pedestal, he does not look to acknowledge me. Moving towards the room I strip and get in the showering device, the cool water a salve to my body. The machine blows air drying me off and I hobble to my bunk, on it I see a fresh set of clothes, a food ration and water. It is folded in a way that I recognize, it must have been Nevari who prepared them. Changing and eating quickly I move into the room with the hundreds of others and find a spot near the back and try to find my focus.

***

Images of pain fill the sea of my soul as I meditate, the blood and slaughter of my people. The horrors I have committed to survive. I search for a light but see none, there is only anger and pain where I look. I must find it within, I search but the fire that once blazed is cold ash, I try to remember the light of the being, now searching deeper still, the serenity it gave me, sparks in the darkness, embers begin to flicker. I call upon the words that it spoke to me.

Ulima dom Sekar - Alakin dom Jukora

It is slow at first but I begin to feel it, the burn of its warmth melting the ice around my soul. It gives rise to motion within me, I feel it flowing inside my body, mixing with the rage, forming something new, something I have never felt before. It is anger but it is calm. It is purpose but it is peace. More words from the being fill my mind.

Adar Ul Pakar

I am about to understand the feeling as it grows within me, I am sure of it, when I hear commotion in the real world bringing my attention back, the light fades as I open my eyes. My body feels somehow lighter, the fatigue less demanding.

“That’s enough, now we train. Pair up with those of your marking and wait for instruction.” Keeper Dargo says loudly.

Nekam finds me and we pair up. The words still fresh on my mind. There is a calm in me now, the anger beginning to sleep once more.

“Begin.” Dargo says loudly to the room.

Nekam and me give our customary bow and take our positions. It will be a hard fight, he is the one who taught me the blade, he knows the secrets of my art as he was their painter. He moves towards me quickly now. I feel he wants to turn but he does not, a trick, one I do not fall for, as I am wary of him. My mind is still not fully in the fight, it lingers on Adar Ul Pakar.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Little demon, do not shame me by day dreaming - Come, show this old man what you have learned.”

“My chief, you are not old yet.” I say refocusing myself.

“The grey in my beard disagrees.” He chuckles, lunging forward.

There is a quick succession of moves from him, his style has changed slightly to incorporate Dargo’s advice. It is becoming more fluid with each movement. When he is going right, he changes left then back again as I move to parry him. Sekat, he has improved so much in one day. A feeling of jealousy that he received instruction washes over me, but is quickly slashed away by my focus.

Rolling towards him I strike as I roll swiping at his ankles, he jumps landing on his hands then back up again. I run towards him keeping the momentum, but my leg cramps and I stumble. Sekat. The focus leaves me as the frustration rises, my legs need more rest.

“It would appear the seed does not wish to sprout.” Dargo says as he walks by me.

Holding back my tongue I rise from the ground and go again, a flurry of strikes at Nekam, he deflects all but one which grazes his shoulder. He drops the hand simulating injury as we have always done, and we continue. I do not need to pretend my leg is injured where he strikes me next, it is already becoming a burden to my frustration. Dargo makes his rounds to us again and holds a hand up stopping the fight.

“Your blades song has grown softer, but your feet still dance to its tune.” He says showing Nekam a full strike from start to finish, he is like a snake, his whole body coils, then unleashes with the strike.

“Thank you, my Keeper.” Nekam says testing the move out then nodding to me.

He is upon me a moment after I return the nod, he moves low then strikes high, knocking the wind out of me as I topple over. Dargo approaches me now slumped on the ground.

“Ready to give up?” he asks me.

“No.” I say, the fire igniting in me as my eyes hollow and my rage comes rushing back.

“Change partners.” He says loudly to the room.

A man who wields a spear comes before me now, I recognize him as one of the last standing the day before. We bow and it begins immediately. My legs pain far from my mind, the rage masking it. I close the gap vying to take away his reach advantage. He stabs in rapid succession but I am the rage that flows, I roll to the side of him and jump into him sideways as I land, knocking him off balance. I slide my dulled blade along the fingers that hold the spear, he does not let go, he does not want to honor it. My rage rises as the calm that once mixed begins to leave.

I do not hold back my strikes as they come, I stab where his arteries are, he recoils in pain but does not honor them. I rush him again turning the hilt of my blade to strike him more firmly. Still, he does not honor it. His eyes mirror my own, rage and frustration. He is larger, but I am faster. He throws his spear at me, I try to grab it from the air but miss. He rushes me now trying to tackle me, his hand grabs my shirt so he can use his size to bully me, I punch his elbow joint bringing our heads colliding together, I am dazed - him more so.

Pressing him now, I strike in his nerve bundles with my fists, I strike to inflict pain, he backs away, but I do not let up. Even when he is on the ground, and I am pummeling him. The rage spilling into my fists as the blood spatters on my hands. I feel someone pulling me, but I keep swinging, yelling aloud in frustration, my Kuwathi eyes glowing. A stronger yank puts me in a headlock, I scratch at the arms, elbowing backwards, my mind back in the desert when it was kill or be killed, there is death and screams everywhere.

“Be calm little demon, be calm.” Nekam’s voice says to me, guiding me back.

My hands stop clawing and they clutch his arms, I fight back the tears that wish to fall, Kuwathi do not cry, it is a sign of weakness.

“That’s it - breathe - Yalla.” He tells me, his words quelling the rage, bidding it to slumber once more. In the old tongue Yalla means - the calm that fills you.

“Sorry, my chief.” I say.

“You are calm?” he asks me, I nod and he releases me.

Looking to the man upon the floor I see he is unconscious, his face badly beaten, I look to my fists and see they are raw, I fall to my knees filled with shame and regret. Losing control of oneself is among the greatest acts of shame my people can commit.

Dargo whistles loudly and points to the man. A medibot flies towards him and scans the man, administering medigel, a layer of film over the wounds forms. Now approaching me Dargo pulls one of his sheathed blades from his hip and runs it slowly across my chest, a red marking appearing. He does not grin, he simply leaves me in my shame, upon my knees.

“Again.” He says loudly to the room.

People who had grown quiet to look upon what I have done follow his instruction and begin once more. I make my way over to the red marked group, but there are no open pairings, so I watch as my hands begin to tremble. I must learn to control myself, or the rage will consume me. Moving to the wall I sit and try to meditate. There is no peace in me at first, but after a time I begin to find it once more. The rage has grown silent, slumbering deep within, its appetite quelled, for now...