... Eighteen.
"Again." Crack!
... Nineteen.
"Again!"
The whip came down with much more force than before, the loud crack of leather meeting skin echoing off the walls. He paused only for a moment, taking care not to verbalize the pain of the open wound upon his bare back before continuing his push ups. He learned from a young age to accept the agony of sore muscles, blood, and sweat. He made the grave mistake of showing weakness upon the iron maiden, forced to break free of the holds without assistance or else face being ripped apart. It only took a matter of minutes before he was screaming for his life, and it wasn't until the morning of the next day that he was released as punishment for his lack of durability. Everyday, as if in excuse, his father would say the same thing:
"I do this only because I love you and to prepare you for the real world. Remember: life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something."
So Cael made the effort to build up his resistance, training even as he was dismissed for bed. He found a new enthusiasm facing his daily training, though he may be operating on two to three hours of sleep at a time. Entire days would be spent on increasing his endurance for sprinting without end, practicing kicks without rest, and punching trees without complaint. His reward was three square meals a day.
"Enough," boomed his father's voice and Cael immediately responded, rising to his feet with great haste, hands at his sides and his chin held high. Denbora approached his son, observing him before the whip was strung once more.
"Scream," his father commanded.
Cael grit his teeth, the sting of the whip now upon his chest. "No."
Denbora smiled, cracking it again. "Beg."
"No." His voice was louder, converting the need to scream into a booming defiance. A wicked grin lined Denbora's face. Cael knew what was coming next.
As the whip was thrown down for the last time, he ordered, "Speak."
Cael said nothing; his sole concentration on restraining the urge to scream and keep his composure. He couldn't let his eyes betray what he was feeling. It would mean another trip to the iron maiden, and damn if he couldn't master durability on the accursed thing. So he remained silent. Minutes passed, an eternity for Cael, before his father was satisfied. He clapped a hard hand on his shoulder and Cael wondered absurdly if he made his father proud. But Denbora's stern look brought Cael back to reality.
"Get cleaned up and head for bed. Now." And he left.
Cael watched as he departed, wondering what tomorrow's training would be like, something he often pondered when he was alone. That, and his mother's welfare. His father stopped allowing him to see her for reasons he did not disclose and Cael was becoming suspicious. He headed to the shower, grabbing his shirt along the way, and passing by several servants gossiping as usual. Normally, it was trivial things, like Edrith being tackled by a pig, or the "Mystery Munchin" that ate the food supply in the night. That lasted for about a week before they figured out the culprit was the new servant, Dominic, who's actions were not pardoned by Denbora. His punishment was severe, beyond any grueling torture Cael had even faced and he knew from that point onward not to cross his father. Ever.
But this time was different. For once, it was something worth eavesdropping into. "Have you heard?" snickered Edrith into Rena's ear. "Master has adopted an orphan child into the Sinclair line. They say the orphan's parents sold her soul to the Devil himself! And that her elder brother left her in the streets to die!"
"Excuse me," chimed in Cael, his curiosity getting the better of him. The two servants froze, for a moment, before relaxing as they saw they were in Cael's presence. "What orphan?"
Edrith glanced at Rena before egging him closer. He obliged, humoring them as he glanced cautiously for people who may be eavesdropping as he had done. "She's a real beauty. 'Bout same age as you. Name's Alice. Didn't catch last name. You're old man Sinclair adopted her. Guess you can call yourself a big brother... Though I wouldn't be proud of it. She got a nasty temper. I would, too, if I had no soul." Rena hastily tapped Edrith's shoulder as she saw the guards make their rounds and the both of them hurried off, leaving Cael there to decipher the information he'd been given. What could father possibly gain out of adopting an orphan with no soul, he wondered. He has his reasons, he argued and he left it at that. He trudged off to the showers and paid the soulless girl no more mind.
Cael had been seven at the time when he heard of Alice's arrival. But it would be years later, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, before he would meet her for the first time.
He crouched beside a tree, reloading his gun, his eyes never leaving his target. The fabled divine wolf of white and red lurked several yards away, sniffing the air for its pursuer. He cocked the gun, drawing attention to himself as the wolf's head snapped to his location. A soft curse left his lips as he rose to his feet, swiveling to point the gun at the god. He stopped for a moment, the wolf's attention no longer upon him. The divine one stared into the distance, ears pointed and alert. He glanced in the same direction curiously for a split second, but when his sights returned to his target his gaze was met with that of a flurry of fur of the tail of the beast.
"Shit." He made to pursue, his path abruptly blocked after a couple of steps by a woman of long, brown hair and dressed in fair clothes bearing the Sinclair insignia. She carried a staff, her violet eyes drawn to the place where the wolf had disappeared. Suddenly aware of Cael's presence, her attention was shifted to him as she stopped her pursuit to observe him. It was as though he were a child once more, pinned under the gaze of his merciless father; yet it was also different. He had never been under the speculation of a female before and he was simply beside himself, plainly fidgeting with the shotgun as he removed the barrels and fumbled with the safety lock. Her eyes did not quiver, even as he dropped the damned thing and he'd just as soon as leave the gun where it lie before he embarrassed himself anymore.
So he stared back at her. They remained like that for what seemed like an eternity before Cael cursed once more as he picked up the goddamned gun and placed it back in its holster. "You interrupted my hunt." He voice was laced thickly with stern disapproval, something he modled after his father, but the girl seemed unfazed. Despite her beauty and grace, the blank expression upon her face was unbecoming. Like she was empty... He tilted his head to the side. "Who are you?"
"Alice," she replied monotonously. Cael blinked. Why did that sound familiar? "May I inquire your identity?"
"Cael Sinclair." It finally dawned on him. She was the one who had been adopted several years ago into the Sinclair family. The girl with no soul. "Your elder brother."
For the first time, her eyes flashed with a spark of emotion, though it passed by too fast for him to make out. Her words confirmed his suspicions: "I already have a brother. I need not another." And with a flourish, she departed. Confused but amused, Cael stood there and for the first time didn't know what to do next. He was slightly bewildered he'd been so easily caught off guard by a woman and his frustration made him fidget once more. Jesus Christ. He sniffed and spat on the ground; turning back toward the direction of his home where, he was sure, punishment for his failure would be immediate and severe. It didn't concern him. He had to go through more training, specifically mental...
If he ever hoped to stand up to a female.
No comments:
Post a Comment