The Song of Gaál - Nine

*** Warning ***

Sensitive situations

Violence; Nudity;

Hard R Rating

Please do not read if you are easily disturbed.

(All characters, places and events reside solely in my imagination.)

The Song of Gaál

…....... Nine ….......

Cassava poked absently at the embers of the fire while considering the request made of him. He glanced over at the elegant figure sitting solemnly in the tufted chair. Cassava's eyes scanned across the dark pant, up the simple linen shirt and met the deep blue eyes of the man who was his savior, mentor, nemesis. Kisertet. For the briefest of moments the man stared back into Cassava's eyes, an eyebrow twitched questioningly upward and the thin lips formed in a half smile. Cassava sighed and returned his attention to the fading fire, reflecting on his life and thinking of the task laid before him.

Nearly one year has passed since Levente Tolvaj abandoned Cassava in the cellar to bleed his life onto a cold, stone floor. Nearly one year since Kisertet reported Cassava's death to Malika and left Castle Sotete, spiriting away a nearly lifeless child. Nearly one year for Cassava to regain his strength within the walls of Kisertet's estate, near the lands of Saligo.

And in that one year, Cassava learned to use a knife, a string, a file, to kill a man. He learned of the sword and fighting. He was taught of the wild flowers that grew and the poisons they hid behind their colourful beauty and delicate scent. He was taught to kill quickly and efficiently. He knew to trust no one. Everyone held a secret. It was best for him to discover the secret, then he could decide what to do with it.

Kisertet tested Cassava repeatedly. He would spring at Cassava from an alcove or from behind a tree bringing the boy into a heated exchange of sword and dagger. He learned to carry knives on his person at all times, secured to leather under his sleeves, in his boot, under his pant leg. He learned to discern the smell of wine and tainted wine. He learned of poisons and antidotes. He learned to watch the behaviour of animals and truly hear birdsong for the telltale signals of changes in an area. He knew he was being prepared, but for what, he could not guess.

Cassava's nights were haunted with memories of Malika and his years at Castle Sotete. He would wake with a start, thrashing about in the bed, believing that he was buried under the bodies of dead rabbits, birds and squirrels. He remembered Kisertet waking him during one vicious night terror. “When you scream out in your sleep, Cassava, you let others know where you are. Discipline yourself to avoid that situation.” Kisertet told him in a stern tone. “Or what?” Cassava retorted, startled awake and angry, “will you kill me?” Kisertet cast an icy stare at Cassava and angry lines formed about his blue eyes. “You would be fortunate if it were I to kill you, Cassava. Do not for one moment believe that others would do it swiftly.” Kisertet stated coldly, turned and left the room. Cassava sank backward into the pillows, drawing his arm over his head, a slow angry ember embedding itself in his heart. He began to sleep with a cloth in his mouth to prevent his yelling out in the night.

*****          *****          *****

Kisertet arrived back to his estate one afternoon accompanied by a young child. Cassava blinked up at the man and child atop the horse. “Yo-ha, Cassava, come, meet this young lady.” Kisertet said as he dropped to the ground and reached up for the child. Cassava approached the man and child. The little girl stared wide eyed at Cassava as he drew near to her.

“This is Mirriam. Mirriam Anastasia Voros.” Kisertet stated. Cassava watched Mirriam's pale face as Kisertet spoke. Kisertet explained that Mirriam was his ward. He was her guardian, under the church, since her parents' untimely death. Their home in Saligo caught fire, leaving Mirriam an orphan. Mirriam Anastasia Voros is the sole heir to Saligo, an estate being maintained by the family's steward. She would be staying with Kisertet until she was old enough to be placed in a Tabory for schooling. “She is likened to a Princess, Cassava. Her parents had untold wealth and land holdings.” Kisertet tsked his tongue and shook his head sadly. “So very unfortunate that her parents, my friends, and her older brother are no longer with her. Guard her well, Cassava, for you share my responsibility for her.”

Cassava did watch after Mirriam. He had no choice. Though he preferred to be alone, Mirriam followed him inside, outside, into his room, into the garderobe. He would take her hand and patiently lead her away when she was where she was not supposed to be. She was a tiny girl for four years old, and while she was curious of everything, she was a rather quiet child. She watched Cassava as he practiced his weapons, as he ate his meals, as he wrote his letters.

He came to his room after caring for the horse and found her with one of his knives in hand, sawing at her hair with the sharp blade. “No.” he told her as he reached slowly for the knife. “Do not touch, do you understand?” She nodded slightly, her eyes filling with tears. Cassava sighed and sat down on the bed, pulling her up to sit in front of him.  He untangled the mass as gently as he could with his fingers, then he finished cutting her hair into some semblance of neatness. Kisertet never questioned what happened to her hair. Overall, Cassava began to enjoy her company.

The season changed once more and Cassava found himself in the courtyard battling knife to knife with Kisertet. He watched the man's hand for the slightest twitch so that he could gauge the direction the attack would come from. His eyes darted quickly to the man's opposite hand, waiting for the second weapon that he surely had to appear. Kisertet was like the snake Cassava once saw take an unsuspecting mouse. He knew Kisertet would attack fast and sure; it was Cassava's role to determine where the attack would come from. He held his breath. Kisertet struck forward and Cassava jumped back, left leg forward and stooped midway from a crouch. With his right leg back, Cassava pushed himself forward, carrying his right hand, and his knife, toward Kisertet's heart. 

Cassava's thrust was knocked aside as Kisertet raised his arm, deflecting the boy's move. Cassava, overcome by the force of Kisertet's defense, stumbled and fell to the ground. Kisertet sprang over the fallen boy, pushing Cassava to his back. Cassava prepared to raise his weapon and started to push up from the grass only to have his knife tossed from his hand by the force of a hit from Kisertet. With a swift twist and push backward, Cassava reached for his knife that was stuck tip down into the soft ground. His move was met with a sword point nearly touching his face. His movement stopped, his eyes looked up at Kisertet who stood above him, dark hair falling forward, blue eyes sparkling in the sun and smiling like the dog who found the bone. “You died.”  

He watched Kisertet pull back his weapon. Kisertet sheathed the sword and tucked his knife in its leather under his shirt. “Come in, wash up, we have music to make.” Kisertet called over his shoulder as he turned and walked away from the boy.