by TJ Muir
Next came the cow leg. Several animal limbs, in fact. They had Kirrin practice kicks and arm blows, until he could snap a joint or a limb. At first Kirrin thought he would be ill. But he quickly learned how to focus on the outcome, and not on the object. Soon, the cracking of bone or joint became a sound of success, rather than disgust.
Kirrin fell into a routine. Up in the morning and exercise. Wash and change. Kitchen, and prep for breakfast. Weeding in the garden. Training with Kip and Duffy. Wash. Back to the kitchen and prep for lunch and dinner. Scrub pots and clean up. Back to Kip and Duffy. And then he usually got farmed out wherever he was needed. One day he spent several hours stacking hay. Another, holding sheep for shearing. And yet another, he spent cleaning muck out of the fountains. Occasionally he thought it was an awful lot for the price of a sweet-roll. But he preferred this to any of the very worse alternatives that could have happened.
Sometimes he had a few hours to himself, and he could wander around the grounds. He liked the hedge maze, although he got lost several times before he discovered the way to the center. When he got there, he found he wasn't alone. He saw a boy, about his own age, sitting up on a tree branch that stretched wide and thick. He didn't recognize the boy, who seemed to be reading a book in the quiet evening shade.
Then the boy’s head turned, a braid fell loose, and Kirrin blushed. The person in the tree was clearly not a boy. He took a step backwards, turning to leave, his foot stepping on some dried leaves. The girl looked up, aware of him standing there. She smiled.
“So, you've found the way to the center. A good retreat from everyone,” she said. “No one really wants to make their way all the way to the center, just to fetch you back.”
Having just discovered the route to the center, Kirrin had no idea that it was a good hiding place. Also, he doubted anyone would be pleased upon his return, if he ducked out on his penance.
“It's a nice garden,” Kirrin said, looking around at the fantastically sculpted shrubbery. The same kind of animals and scenes as he had seen out in the yards, but finer detail here. A small group of bushes trimmed to look like a mother bird over a nest, feeding her babies. A horse rearing up, or leaping over something. Everywhere he looked, there was something to take in. At the center, was a sculpted pond, with a spiral shell where water poured from the top. The shell sparkled, or glittered, something Kirrin couldn't quite decide. A sort of shimmer. He thought maybe it was a trick of the light against the cascading water. It was mesmerizing.
The gods had gifted those majestic structures to them. Even though Tatak Rhe was almost completely surrounded by water, the shells powered all the water throughout the city, as well as through the canals, drawing water upwards, drawing on magical forces none of them understood-- but relied on nonetheless.
“Yfa Chirrik,” the girl said from just behind Kirrin. He jumped with a yelp. She laughed, a light sound. So different than the way Aldon laughed, or even his mother. He blushed, having no idea what she was talking about, or what he should say in response.
She nodded at the fountain. “Yfa Chirrik. The So'har's birthright. They make the water flow, and replenish the magic to the land.” She spoke now as though she might be speaking to an idiot.
He nodded. He knew what the Yfa Chirrik and Yfa Chirra were but he had been distracted, both by the girl and by some mysterious feeling he had, standing there, watching the water. Everyone knew the Da'har and So'har received their power from the gods, long ago. The sacred shells were the symbol of their power.
After that, Kirrin made an effort to sneak over to the maze garden whenever he could. Sometimes he was rewarded and she would be there. He found out on his second visit that her name was Miral. And that she liked to read. It was nice to have someone his own age to talk to, even if it was only for a few minutes here and there. Usually she told him about the stories she was reading. Myths of a land before Chanmyr, and legends of Giliad the great before he was cast out of the god’s land. Kirrin wasn't familiar with these stories, so he was a very willing audience.
“You could be Giliad,” Miral said. Kirrin felt his cheeks burn when she said that. He never thought of himself as any kind of hero.
“Not me,” he said. “I'm nobody special.”
“I think you're special. And especially those lovely green eyes,” she said.
Kirrin's discomfort grew exponentially. He had no idea what he was supposed to do or how he should answer.
At that, Miral leaned in and kissed him. It was the softest, sweetest touch he could have imagined. His head was spinning, and only part of that was because of the fountain's magic-- which was potent in the garden. She leaned a little closer, leaning into him, as he relaxed into the kiss. It seemed to be a natural thing to do. Kissing. His whole body seemed to be focused on her lips. He felt a little drunk, as sensations coursed through his whole body.
Those sensations reached a little further and deeper than Kirrin expected, and he pulled away, extremely embarrassed, and afraid she would know.
“I have to go,” he said, standing up abruptly and turning away.
Miral looked at him, confusion on her face. “Tomorrow night?”
“I don't know. Maybe,” Kirrin said, and dashed off, wanting to get out of there before his discomfort became obvious.
Between the kitchen work, training with Kip and Duffy, and side-chores, the month-span went by quickly. Kirrin began to relax and find a new air of confidence. Another benefit to his training sessions and fresh air came when his own clothes came back from the laundry, cleaned and repaired. Cook had made sure he had a few changes of clothes, insisting he be tidy in the kitchen. When he put on his own shirt, he noticed it fit differently. It didn’t hang on him quite the same way as it used to. It fit. In fact, it was almost snug across his shoulders. He ran to find Kip and Duffy, who slapped him on the back, and nodded approval. High praise, from those two.
The end of his span came too soon. He was liking the place he had found, here among the So’har’s staff. He’d even kissed a girl! He couldn’t wait to tell his brothers about that. But the end did come. One day, he went to where he practiced with Kip and Duffy. They weren’t dressed in their usual practice clothes or the burgundy and green that identified the So’har’s staff. They looked like anyone he might see in the city.
Duffy nodded his head toward a carriage, and got up from the log where he was finishing a late breakfast. Kirrin’s shoulders slumped. Time to go home. He did miss his mum, and looked forward to showing her what he had learned. But he felt safe here. He was torn between those two conflicting drives. It was funny, that he felt safe at the So'har's estates, where it should have been the most scary. He wondered what it would be like, back home. He really did miss his mother, as it had been just the two of them for as long as Kirrin could remember. He felt like he needed to be there, because she worried about him a lot.
The carriage that took him back into the city was different than the one he had rode out in. And he got to sit up on the seat, and watch the fields and houses through the window. Kip and Duffy rode with him, which he liked. He asked the occasional question about the hills, the name of a river, or an estate they passed.
They rattled along the street, back into the city. But the carriage didn’t take him to the Red Coach Inn. Instead, it headed toward the market square, moving at a leisurely pace. They turned down a quiet side alley, parking the carriage. The two men got out, motioning for Kirrin to follow.
A quiet fear welled up in Kirrin- danger senses on alert. What was this? Was the whole month-span leading up to this? Just to teach him a lesson now? Could they have been that nice to him only to betray him now? If they did, he knew it was by the So’har’s orders—nothing they chose for themselves. That didn’t give him any comfort, as he followed them into the alleyway. He thought about running. This was his turf; he knew the ins and outs better than either of them did. But then he also considered that they knew exactly where to find him, or his mother. It had been a while since he had
thought of them as dangerous or scary. But now, he reconsidered that trust.
It was mid-morning, and the sun hadn’t yet crested the walls of the alley, casting the blue and sand stones in shadow, and a slight coolness from the night lingered. The alley turned, and as Kirrin made his way around the corner, he was face to face with Aldon.
Years of bullying had instilled an automatic fear-reaction in Kirrin. Every nerve in his body tensed, wanting to run.
“As promised,” Duffy said to Aldon, who grinned maliciously, intent now, to finally take his promised revenge.
But the last month-span had taught Kirrin other things. He scanned the area, and shifted to his left. A broken board lying against the wall, small enough to use as a club. A bit of sand on the ground, if needed. A crate a few feet away, filled with vegetables. He glanced upwards, the sun would be peeking over the edge of the buildings soon—but not soon enough.
Kirrin took in all of this information in the time it took Aldon to stand up and step forward. Kirrin looked to Kip and Duffy, who said nothing. Maybe this was part of the So’ha’rs revenge? But Kip nodded to him, the tiniest tilt of his head, toward Aldon, as if to say, ‘go get im.’
‘Get there first. Get there quick. Get there hard.’ Advice drilled into him daily. And now, after a month of wrestling and bruises from the two men, Aldon felt less intimidating. Kirrin had his wits about him, and calculated his options.
He remembered how Aldon liked to close in, with the habit of grabbing him by the arm. Kirrin cringed, and cowered slightly. Aldon made a grab for his arm, as expected. Kirrin was ready though. He saw now, how unguarded Aldon was.
The cringe and cower were for show. In one fast move, Kirrin rose from his crouch, using his left arm to block Aldon’s grab. He felt the muscles in Aldon's arm - not nearly as thick as Kip or Duffy's. He was able to get a good grip, with his hand wrapped around Aldon's bicep. Kirrin didn't try to stop the movement; he just redirected it slightly, downward and away. That put Aldon off balance. Kirrin continued to press forward. His right palm slammed upward into Aldon’s nose. He felt the shock of the impact, heard the crunch of the soft tissue. Aldon's head rocked backwards, and blood began to pour down his face. Aldon's eyes widened in shock. Kirrin knew his foe had expected things to go the exact opposite, and didn't know how to react now that he was clearly on the losing side of the first round. Kirrin wasn't about to give any advantage away. Rather than pausing or even changing his position, he used his forward momentum, lifting his right leg, and crashed down on Aldon’s knee. He heard the familiar crunching sound of success.
His lifelong nemesis crumbled to the ground. Years of frustrated rage bubbled up inside. Kirrin dove onto the older boy, and pummeled him into bloody tears. Fists pounding wherever they found an opening—roles reversed. This was above and beyond the defense and fighting he had been practicing all month. This was years of pent up anger. He sat on the other boy, keeping him pinned down and rained blows on him until he exhausted himself. Rage spent, he stood, glaring down at Aldon, seeing the terror in the boy’s face—even through the blood.
Through it all, Kip and Duffy had watched, silent. Kirrin looked to the two of them for—something. They didn’t say anything, but looked satisfied. He wondered if they were assessing their training, or what their interest might be.
Kirrin brushed himself off. Duffy tossed him a wet towel and he used that on his face and arms, removing Aldon’s blood. There was some blood on his clothes, but at least this time it wasn’t his, he thought with grim satisfaction. Aldon hadn’t gotten a hand on him.
He handed the towel back, watching Aldon still, who remained on the ground, whimpering.
“He’ll think twice before laying a hand on you now,” Duffy noted, as he turned back toward the head of the alley.
Kirrin followed. “They’ll try again. Together.”
“Not likely, not after that,” Kip said.
“You don't know them. They'll try again,” Kirrin said.
“Not if you take each of them, individually, first,” Duffy said.
Kirrin thought about that. Could he hunt down Freil and Traz? He thought about the places they liked to hang around. He also had a pretty good idea where each of them lived. There was an alley near Freil’s house that Kirrin could lure the boy into. He knew then he wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore. He liked how that felt, to stand up tall, feeling brave for the first time in his life.
The three of them climbed back into the carriage, heading toward the inn this time. He began to think about his mum. She wouldn’t have to worry about him every time he went out. But he didn’t think she would approve, if she had seen what he had done to Aldon. He considered what to tell her. Just enough, he decided. He had always told her everything. But maybe now, it was better if she didn’t hear all the truth.
The carriage pulled up in the yard. Kirrin looked at Kip and Duffy. “Thank you,” he said, with more gratitude than he expected. “I am sorry, for the whole… well… at the beginning, you know. I thought I was done for. But this is the best thing that ever happened to me. And, well… I liked… well, I’ll miss being on the So’harat.”
The two men nodded. “The So’har, he’ll want to see you back. That’s as he said,” Kip explained.
“Why? Am I still in trouble? Did I do something wrong?” Kirrin asked, alarmed.
The two shrugged. “As he said, ‘Make note, if the lad bests this other boy.’”
“What does that mean?” Kirrin asked.
Kip shrugged. “Dunno. But one way or t’other? The So’har has an interest in you now.”
Kirrin watched the carriage pull away, and heard his mother’s voice call from the side of the Inn. He ran over to her, hugging her hard, glad to be home.
She pulled him back, holding him at arm’s length, looking him over. “You’ve grown,” she said, smiling, assured that her boy was safe and in one piece. She looked at him closely, seeing the difference in her son, and trying to figure out what it was. Kirrin knew this because he knew his mum that well. It was also because he was trying to work out that same question for himself.
On dangerous ground chapter 2
Early afternoon, and the kitchen was quiet. Kirrin stared at his small pile of schoolwork. Angles, and distances on pieces of paper. His brain refused to focus. He turned his hand over, looking at his knuckles. The swelling had gone down, and the bruises were fading. No one had ever told him that hitting someone would hurt. He wondered if that was what Perrin had meant on the times he got spanked- that it would hurt him more than it would hurt Kirrin. He doubted it, but the thought made him smile slightly.
His mother wanted him to spend his free time doing what she considered back studies that he had missed during his month-span away. The small prep-table in the inn's kitchen was cleared of utensils, onions, and potatoes so Kirrin would have room to work on his calculations homework. His mother, and Perrin made it a point to oversee his learning, since his mother couldn't afford to send him to good schools. After several years coming home with cuts ,and bruises; Kirrin didn't like going to the local schools where he was a target for the other boys.
All that had changed now. He thought about that as he turned his hands back, and forth, examining his injuries. They didn't hurt too badly-- despite him having told his mother that it was hard to hold the pencil. He wondered if she guessed his little lie. He had never really lied to her before. But he nursed his bruises with an inner pride this time. These were the scars of victory, rather than the intense welts of defeat. Mostly though, he was using the excuse because his mind didn't want to think about his studies. It kept wandering back over recent events, and over the whole month-span he'd spent out of the city.
As happy as he was to be back at home, where he could help his mother, and look after her, a part of him missed being out on the So’har’s estate. While Cook, Kip, and Duffy weren’t his age, they were the closest he had come to friendship, since his brothers had left home. He knew Chad ,and Fin weren’t
his real brothers; they were Perrin’s sons. Both of them were gone now, Chad to an apprenticeship, and Fin to work with a brick mason . They had looked after him, and taught him stuff, and he missed them. Even though he saw Chad occasionally, it wasn’t the same-- especially with the bullies.
But he was less worried now about getting caught by the other boys on the streets. Duffy, and Kip had taught him well. He sat there looking at his knuckles, remembering each blow. Remembering how it felt to pound out years of pent up anger. How it felt to see Aldon lying at his feet, bloody ,and defeated. He wondered what might happen if he ran into Aldon or either of his sidekicks again. Finally, the cringing terror he had once felt was gone now.
His thoughts were interrupted when his mother came back into the kitchen to start preparing for dinner. She would need the prep table soon, he knew.
“I’m almost done, mum,” he assured her as she came over to inspect his work.
“Check your distance, here,” she said, pointing to one of his diagrams.
He looked to where she pointed, and nodded. “Oh yeah, I see it. Thanks.”