Eli could not contain himself. He awakened with a burst of energy as soon as he gained consciousness. He’d waited his entire 10 year lifespan for this day. As he splashed cold water on his face, he pulled some fresh linens over his body and tore down the stairway, through the kitchen, and headed straight for the front door.
“Now wait just a minute, mister!” his mother’s shrill voice rang out. He stopped dead in his tracks, and slumped his shoulders. He made his way back to the kitchen, dragging his heavy boots along the way.
“I know it’s a big day for you, but you need to eat before you go out. Who knows when Jarovi will be done with you?” She gave him a glance and he tore his eyes from the ground, meeting her glare. He wanted to protest, but it would be in vain, and so, bit his tongue. He dragged his boots some more and pulled the chair out from the table, pulling it with so little effort that it made a loud BRRROOOMP against the finished wood floor.
His mother laid out some toast and fresh juice on a plate and set it in front of Eli. A stern glance shot through him as he shoved half of the toast in his mouth. He began some words around his mouthful of food, and a flash of pain stung his face like icy water across his face.
“It’s bad enough your father trusts your training with one of those savages, but I refuse to allow you to eat like one.” she said with an expressionless face. The pain still stung his mouth, and he tasted that metallic taste of blood from where his fleshy cheek was cut against his teeth. He choked back tears. A man would not cry over a slap. Still, he thought, it’s so unfair for her to call him that word. He is no different than anybody else. He was just born on the wrong part of the world. Eli was sure his father would have rebuked mother if he had heard the sour slur escape her lips. There were many citizens in the Dominara whom held strong prejudices against the natives, but his father had instilled a sense of compassion for all people on his land. Eli hoped that by his own children’s generation, the wheel would be broken, and the Dom would be a better place for all.
His mother’s voice tore him from his thoughts, “Hurry, now, you’ll be late!”
After choking down his toast, he drained his glass of apple juice, he stuck his neck out for the obligatory kiss on the cheek and headed out the door. He saddled his horse and set off to the training ground his father had recently finished building. The sun has just started to peek over the rolling hills of his ancestors’ farmland. Miles of apple orchards and wheat fields painted the landscape with a fluttering of ripened red fruit nestled within the lush, green foliage. Straight ahead, Eli spotted his father and Jarovi. His father sat upright with perfect posture on his horse, giving the impression of a military discipline. Though Eli’s father was a farmer, nearly everybody this far west in the Dominara needed to second as a swordsman. Jarovi had a darker complexion, and a more relaxed stance. He was an ex-tribesman, who made a deal with the king to serve a lord of the Dominara in exchange for safe housing and food every day.
Jarovi swung himself down from his painted horse, slung a couple blades over his shoulder said, “You’re late. Follow me,” he said without so much as a glance at Eli.
Eli looked at his father for some reassurance, and Jacob looked away and rode off towards their humble keep. Eli jumped down from his horse, Baily, and clumsily followed Jarovi to the training grounds. Jarovi spun about on his heels and tossed a wooden training sword at Eli. Eli tried to react in time, but he was on his back with a knot on his head before his mind could register what had happened. He suddenly forgot about his mother’s petty slap from breakfast.
“Stay on guard. Always. Your enemy will take every opportunity you give for the element of surprise.”
Eli struggled to stand. His legs rocked beneath him as he regained composure. Jarovi was muscular and intimidating. He felt extremely small compared to the well toned native. He held up his sword with both hands and waited for Jarovi’s next move. Jarovi feigned an overhead attack, and kicked the ground into Eli’s direction, sending sending rocks and dirt. He raised his wooden sword to defend the overhead attack, but turned his head away as the dirt flew into his eyes, and he felt the pommel of a blade drive into his gut.
“Stay. On. Guard.” Jarovi grumbled.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Eli struggled to catch a breath.
“I tried bu-”
“On guard!” Jarovi shouted and rushed towards Eli. Just when Eli went for a counter attack, Jarovi spun out of the way, and smacked the back of Eli’s head with the broadside of the blade.
“Stop, it’s not fai-”
Eli felt a clump of dirt fly right into his mouth, then a backhand knocking Eli on his back. As Eli tried to stand, he was met with a swift kick to his back, sending his back down to his knees.
“I’ll tell father!” he managed to choke out after he regained his breath. Tears streamed from his eyes, but he would not allow Jarovi the satisfaction of him bawling and running away.
“Your father has commissioned me to train you as the Tribe is trained, and so be it! It isn’t my fault you’re too weak to progress from this first lesson. On guard!” Jarovi gave a shout as he burst towards Eli, still on his back. Eli rolled out of the way and swung his sword to the back of Jarovi’s knee. Now I’ve got him, he thought as the swing reached its precipice. Just before it hit, Jarovi countered with an impossible amount of speed, and kicked Eli’s blade off its trajectory.
Eli could not believe his father would allow this. This is mad! Surely he meant for Eli to learn the blade, not be beaten and maimed by this, this-
Eli’s mind struggled to form the slur, but the fire burning deep in his chest swelled and his hatred for Jarovi grew beyond the limitations Eli had ever fathomed. “SAVAGE!” Eli screamed as he hopped to his feet. Every ache and pain he had was suddenly removed from his body and he felt an immense amount of power flow through him. He honed his focus in on Jarovi. Suddenly the blade felt so natural, so effortless and no longer the sluggish chunk of wood. Jarovi’s eyes widened, and Eli swung with all of his might and his sword met Jarovi’s with a loud CRACK. The splintered wood exploded from the training blades and Eli’s vision went red with rage.
What happened next was impossible to recount. The sky went dark, and there was complete silence, save for the very faintest ringing from inside his own head. Flashes of violence entered his mind. His adrenaline was fed by the fear he saw in his victim’s eyes. Hot splatters of blood fueled his rage even more until the blackened edges of his vision grew to a needlepoint and he collapsed. He opened his eyes and stood, heaving heavy gulps of air. Jarovi was lying in a pool of blood, with one of the larger fragments of the damaged training blades sticking out from his neck. Eli finally sobbed as all of his emotions from the day flooded back to him like the high tide in a shallow beach. What have I done? He sobbed without inhibition.
“SON!” His father hissed as he brought his horse to a trot. “What happened?” his eyes scanned all over the boy’s face looking for some logical solution. Eli tried to speak, but the edges of his vision went dark again, and he collapsed.
Eli became aware but heard the voices of his parents talking in the next room. The voices were muffled, but with careful attention paid, he could make out the conversation.
“I didn’t know he had it, but there is hardly anything we can do about it,” Jacob said in a low voice. “My father didn’t show signs of it, and neither did I, so I figured that our blood had been cleansed of the Rage.”
The Rage? Eli thought.
“The savage got what he deserved, you saw the marks on his poor body! What was he getting out of torturing our poor Eli?” his mother pleaded.
“Do. Not. Say. That. Word.”
“Well?” Mother asked, exacerbated.
“Nobody can know about this. When he comes of age, King Grejari will not allow him his lordship.”
“You know this is not an ailment easily hidden, Jacob, be reasonable.”
“He can control it.”
“Jacob!”
“I know it can be controlled!” Eli’s father’s voice was rising in intensity, “My cousin was born with it, and he learned how to control it.”
“How?” Eli’s mother asked, but it didn’t seem like she was genuinely curious.
“The tribesmen have a ritual.”
“The tribesmen?” now Mother’s voice was rising, “Now I know it. You’ve gone mad. Mad, I say!” and she stomped down the stairs.
Eli heard footsteps come down the hall and he shut his eyes, feigning sleep. Jacob entered the room and sat next to his bed. Eli opened his eyes. His father was still showing signs of unease, but he tried to have a gentle tone, “Eli.”
“Hm?”
“Are you aware of what you’ve done, boy?” Eli looked up at his father, but could not hold his gaze. Jacob sighed. “What you’ve done, must never come out into the open. A lot of citizens will never accept your lordship if they know what runs in your veins.” He looked at Eli with sympathetic eyes. The lump in Eli’s throat grew harder and harder to swallow, and tears made their inevitable presence, filling his eyes before streaming down his face. But he didn’t make a sound.
“Do not be ashamed. It is beyond your control.”
Eli looked out in the distance, pretending to be distracted by the same scenery that he’s been seeing the last 10 years. Jacob continued, “You’ll be going with uncle peter for a couple of weeks. He’s going to help you to control it. So that you can be a better Lord for the keep.”
“What if I kill again?” Eli finally let go and sobbed, and Jacob embraced his son tightly. You will. But it isn’t what if, but who. Who you kill has a lot more weight than if you kill. You understand?”
He did not. But he nodded his head and his father looked him in his tear eyes and told him, “Happy Birthday, son.”