❂ Fire On The Wind ❂
“Gut! Get ‘im in the gut!”
“Oi…or bash ‘is bloody brains out!”
The raucous whoops and hollers erupted in a ceaseless stream—bloodthirsty, shamelessly explicit in their voracious lust for pain and brutality. Kedean, eyes locked on the darkly flushed face before him, already wet and shining with sweat, heard none of it. Instead, he thought in heartbeats.
One…
His opponent lunged, more sloppily than the last time—desperate now, as his strength ran low—and Kedean swerved, ducking and sweeping out a foot, catching a slippery wrist and forearm with sharp efficiency.
Two…
Center of balance disrupted, his opponent staggered, grunting hoarsely as he buried himself on Kedean’s knee and bruising but not breaking his valuable ribcage.
Three…
Fraught, now, his opponent attempted a flailing retaliatory shot, aiming for Kedean’s side, all his weight on one foot.
Four…
Kedean let the man’s already slipping wrist go, leaving him no base of support and resulting in a single, wide-eyed moment of disoriented panic before-
Five…
-the man’s heavy body hit unforgiving dirt and pebbled stone hard, but he managed to roll nonetheless, executing an impressive escape from Kedean’s follow-up. Then-
Six…
-Kedean caught the glint of metal before anyone—a dagger, barely visible, fitted into the fold of his opponent’s loose trouser leg—but its tiny silver glean as it slid almost invisibly from pant leg to palm matched the malicious sheen in the wild-eyed gaze of his opponent. As chapped lips pulled back into a heady sneer, muddy red-brown eyes blinking back sweat, Kedean steeled himself.
Seven…
Shwip, was the dagger, slicing air where Kedean’s neck had been a half a moment ago, “Nngph,” was his opponent, choking as three ribs snapped under the force of Kedean’s knee, and thud, the sound of an unconscious body dropping with the weight of a soaked ragdoll to the filthy ring floor after strategic blows to the neck and temple sent his opponent’s brain into temporary rudimentary shut-down.
Eight, nine, ten…
Kedean’s lungs greedily took in oxygen as he stepped back, a familiar juxtapose of cheers and furious hisses bursting up around him. Only when a hand met his shoulder did he turn, immediately leveling a disapproving frown on his grinning company.
“Tadeus.”
“That,” his companion assured, ignoring Kedean’s deepening look of displeasure, “was fabulous. I knew you could do it. Didn’t I say he could do it?” the man asked, tossing the question over to the left with a flashing grin towards a put-out looking fellow in a getup that must have one day been ornate, but had suffered many years of bleaching under the Oban sun. “I knew you could do it,” Tadeus professed again, turning his attention back to Kedean. “You realize how rich you make us?”
“You mean you,” Kedean corrected.
“I mean us,” Tadeus insisted, talking as he moved through the crowd and collecting winnings from other, similarly dissatisfied looking bystanders as he went. Kedean followed a half step behind, attention split between the easy-going young gambler’s careless red head and the endless supply of shady, shabbily dressed peasant sailors—not a one of them unarmed. “You said you needed the money and were suddenly unwilling to go anywhere for it-”
“I am not unwilling,” Kedean grunted. “I can’t.”
“Yes, but you see, ‘can’t’ and unwilling draw the same result in my book. It’s a local profit pool if you’re willing to dig in on it, and you have the build and training-”
“I prefer not to fight for entertainment.” That, to Kedean, was all this was for the most part.
He had been trained informally and then formally from as early as he could remember to make the most of his body—as a weapon and a shield, and as a tool or machine for providing for his family. But ever there it was still in accordance primarily with at the very least fulfilling purpose, whether that be manual labor, protection, or aggressive force. Cage or pit fighting, or even loosely staged ring fights such as these in the underbelly of sailor’s bars along the coast, were less than that. Fighting just because someone wanted to watch or test their mettle—have something to keep their eyes busy while they got themselves drunk.
But, as he well knew, he wasn’t in a position to be picky at the moment, and it wasn’t beneath him. Just distasteful in his own mind.
“I do appreciate your help,” Kedean amended, retrieving his gauntlets — which he had not worn for what was attested to be an ‘empty handed’ fight, despite the other’s apparent intent to add a knife to the game — and strapping those at his belt.
Tadeus was a friend of the family, a coastal Oban through and through, but young enough he had bonded closest with Zyric despite their race differences. Now, Kedean had come to him for aid, and while he swore he did not know Zyric’s whereabouts, he did introduce him to the ring fights wherein Zyric had previously competed (much to Kedean’s chagrin and disapproval) before his disappearance that he might make some coin while refusing to stray far.
Kedean Akuwa had lived and been raised in Oba further back than his memory spanned, most though not all of that time being spent on or near the southern shore. He still remembered the stir of having their — Zyric’s — mother around. How sharply her milky fair skin and ocean blue eyes stood out amongst the throngs of dark sand people. His and his father’s people. As a result, Zyric — the only child born of that union — had always been an anomaly in the eyes of his countrymen. Dark skinned but bright eyed and with a full golden blonde head of hair, fiery orange-yellow crystals, but in towered spikes like his mother.
Kedean loved his brother fiercely, and after his mother’s death had dedicated himself to his and their father’s well-being. But, for all that they had a strong bond and he knew it was mutual, Zyric had never been more tame than the wild and gusting winds that scattered over the rocky crags and peaks of his mother’s home country far north. Zyric was a free and unpredictable spirit, ever chasing something indistinct.
Recently, he had disappeared, though ‘recent’ became more of a stretch with each passing day. Months, now, lay between the last time he had seen his brother’s face and the present date, and Kedean did not know what to make of it. With no word on where he had headed or any hint to that effect he could not chase him. He could not leave for fear that in his absence his brother would return unawares of his own departure, but without word on when or if he might return, he couldn’t know when to be about other than ‘always.’
But remaining stationary for Kedean was a difficulty in and of itself as well. There was only so much dockwork to be had, and only thin sums to be drawn from it. His real business was in selling his craft—his body and its training—which all but consistently involved travel away to locations unknown for the sake of a paying master. He felt he couldn’t do that while awaiting Zyric’s return. With each passing day, however, came the conflicting pull: what if he didn’t return? How much of his own life could be put on hold while his brother was absent?
A thump to his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts, and he glanced down to Tadeus as they reached the top of the steps out and waited in the overhang facing the street before them.
“You think about what’s holding you, y’hear?” Tadeus’ intonation was light, but his expression was serious, crimson eyes focussed. “Zy, he’s a good buddy to have…but, you know, he…” His shoulders rolled as he evidently searched for words that could safely be said in front of the boy’s brother without risking himself or failing to convey his point. “He has his own way. And I think he’s walking it. Doubt he’d want you holding yourself up, if you get me.”
Kedean frowned.
Tadeus cleared his throat. “In any case, I’ll have your portion to you this evening. Say, ah, my regards to your father.”
Kedean nodded, and watched in silence as the man stepped out from under the overhang, into the sun and down the bustling town street. He waited as his own eyes adjusted, listening to the sounds of the docks and townspeople as the town came out of its bright gleam and into focus. He was loathe to leave his father alone as well, without the comfort of at least knowing that Zyric was about and, while not the most reliable of sorts, would be available for their father should something occur.
Now, it was just the two of them. Of course, his father would never insist it was his obligation to stay, let alone admit to his loneliness. But he buried himself in his drink, and that was answer enough.
Kedean took the path home alone, through the busy cross section of the port and on towards the outskirts, to a small, weather worn building of such impoverished stature many would not hesitate to dub it a ‘shack.’ But it sufficed. Upon entry through its creaking wooden door, the potency of liquor scent in the air was pungent and undeniable, but Kedean didn’t hesitate — after a brief check into the hole in the wall that passed as their father’s ‘bedroom’ to ascertain he was indeed still breathing — to proceed on with his day without further comment to the unconscious man. Family or not, their father was adamantly drinking himself to death, and after years of struggling only to come to the conclusion that it was an unbreakable habit, Kedean had ceased pouring wasted effort into the task of trying to rouse him back to the man he’d once been.
Instead, he felt more like a loyal patrolman, watching over the man until he finally got what he was chasing and followed his fair bride into the afterlife.
Kedean stripped of his outer clothes, rinsed himself, redressed in loose pants while his body was still wet, and began the evening’s routine: empty handed exercises, weapons sets, and some time with the hanging sand sack designed to take the impact of weighty blows and keep his sparring in order.
It was past nightfall when Tadeus returned. Kedean’s exercises had concluded, he had washed, cleaned house, prepared the evening’s meal for himself with a spare portion set by his father, and he was in the progress of rising from where he had sat outside to eat his meal when he spotted the man’s shape on the path. He set his dishes under the ground spigot beside the house, running water over them and his hands before shutting it off again and rising. By this time, Tadeus’ face was near enough to recognize even in the evening dim.
“You made it.”
“Didn’t doubt me did you?” Tadeus’ grin flashed teeth, but Kedean didn’t respond aloud. After a moment, he invited him in, and as Tadeus divided out his portion of the afternoon’s winnings, they talked. Or, Tadeus talked, and Kedean provided a stray word or so as needed. Eventually, it came to discussion of his brother’s disappearance—and a job opportunity.
Kedean frowned. “I do not want to travel far…”
“Aye, so you’ve said…but for how long?” There was more to the question, Kedean knew, but he decided not to hear it, shaking his head.
“I can’t say-”
“He’s taking care of himself, you know.”
Kedean’s brow furrowed.
“He’s well, wherever he is, frolicking as he pleases and pissing on barstools…”
“You do not know-”
“You’re mourning like he’s died, Dee. You know better. He’s gone because he wants to be for a while, and you moping around with your life on hold waiting for a sign from heaven isn’t helping anyone in the meantime. I understand you’re concerned…” Tadeus’ expression was uncharacteristically serious as he met his gaze then. “But you’ve got to let both you and that kid have a little room to breathe and get yourself back into the swing before you’re in a rut you can’t get out of and half your life’s gone by…”
“He’s my brother.”
“And you living your life won’t change that.” Tadeus rocked back onto his heels, folding his arms before himself and giving Kedean an assessing glance. “At least talk to captain Raiesh, mm? He’s got a good business started and I know he’d be eager to have you. Could see some new territory, meet some new faces, keep making a life and reputation for yourself, you’ve made a good start, I’ll tell you…now isn’t the time to back out.”
Kedean grunted.
Tadeus tapped the table. “Think about it, ey?” He leaned back. “I’ll swing back by in the morning maybe. Breathe a little, Dee…you worry too much.”
As Kedean escorted him out, he said little more, but the thoughts presented did linger in his mind whether it pleased him or not. Since his brother Zyric’s disappearance, he had not strayed more than a mile from home. If the boy returned, he wanted to be there. Be here. Available, if he needed anything.
But, on the opposite hand, there was truth in what Tadeus said. Though it distressed him severely that Zyric had left without warning or word or whereabouts, under all his worry and frustration he had the gut instinct that his brother was fine, wherever he was, gallivanting about because he could. And at some point, Kedean did need to return to his business engagements or the opportunities would eventually dry up. Beyond that, whether he was ready to admit it or not, he was growing restless. Business with a sea captain was promising, and he felt a reluctant eagerness to stretch his legs and begin travel again.
He would have to sleep on it.
By morning, if he was ready to at least ask this captain’s whereabouts, well—perhaps it was a step in the right direction.
Quote:
Result: Since his half brother Zyric ran away from home, Kedean has avoided moving any more than the smallest of distances from home in hopes that the boy will return, putting his own life on hold without any finite sense of duration. He has been taking odd jobs, such as dock work and fighting for pay, but his friend, Tadeus, while happy to help arrange some things for him, is concerned about Kedean's unwillingness to move out and on and let his little brother do his own thing. This solo is intended to highlight the tipping point for Kedean, his quiet restlessness and dissatisfaction with being stuck, lingering concern for Zyric, but progressive realization that he can't stay where he is forever. By the end of the solo he has decided to at least speak with a ship captain in the area whose job description (if Kedean was willing to be hired) would involve leaving far enough Zyric would have no means of immediate access, but Kedean would be returning to his work and pulling himself out of the rut he'd been in.
Cast: Kedean, Tadeus, Zyric || Word Count: 2,407
