The Reckoning

Chapter 2

Izahr knew the punch was coming the moment he stepped afoot inside his father's tent. That didn't mean the pain was any less. It didn't matter how many times he fell victim to the Chief's rage; he hadn't been able to develop endurance. It could be Izahr getting weaker as his will to resist had been faltering or his father not holding himself anymore -if he ever did-.

The impact sent him flying to the ground. Before he could react, his father's hand grabbed him from the neck, the pressure from the grip made it hard to breathe.

"You listen to me, worthless mistake" Chief Natas snapped. Nothing but fury filled his gaze. "You humiliated me in front of every warrior and brought shame to or whole lineage. You made me look weak!" The older man yelled. Izahr could feel spit falling on his face and smell his father's breath from how close he stood.

He stayed quiet. The slightest sound coming from him could trigger even more the raging man in front.

Tired of having Izahr so close, the Chief threw him back to the ground. Pain erupted in his neck and skull from the impact. The young boy didn't move an inch.

"I could kill you right now and no one would even blink an eye. Other men have been beheaded for less" Izahr kept laying in the ground, eyes closed and trying to control his breath. The smell of dirt and blood filled his senses. His father's rings must've caused a wound.

"You are lucky your brother volunteered to discipline you. If not, I would've left you rotting in the woods, free for any vulture to eat you alive" izahr watched from the corner of his eyes. Markus was standing at the tent's entrance. He looked tense; his sight fixated to the ground.

The chief moved close to the older sibling. "You will take him at dawn to the training grounds and show him what he deserves for his incompetence and weakness." As he proceeded to exit the tent, their father said "I've alerted every warrior to be present. Let's make this a warning for those who think we embrace weakness as Nyrmes, shall we?"

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed. Izahr slowly pushed himself up enough to be sitting on his knees. His brother still stood in the same place, this time, observing him. He spared a look that showed some pity.

"Thank you" Izahr murmured. His voice cracked slightly and his eyes started to sting. He tried his best to hold the tears back.

He knew his brother volunteered with another motive. He believed his father was capable of killing him in front of their whole tribe in order to redeem himself out of his humiliation and show who was in control. If Markus were the one punishing him, he would at least spare his life. Only he would show such mercy.

The young adult approached him, kneeling in front. Gently, he stuck out a hand from under his robe, which held a piece of cloth, and brushed It against Izahr's cheek. Slight moisture covered the cloth, which left a light burning sensation; compared to the blow he had just received in his face, it was durable. The sting faded seconds later, Izahr rubbed the area with his own hand. The wound had closed and the blood was cleaned.

Markus lifted himself back to his feet, brushing the dust off his trousers. He stared at Izahr for a moment, giving him a stern look. "Why are you still here." He blurted.

Izahr felt slightly embarrassed. He stood back up, intending to head back to his tent and wait until his punishment. "Sorry" he murmured shyly.

"I do not mean it that way" Markus quickly responded, making the younger boy stop dead on his tracks and look at him curiously. "Why are you still in this place? You could just leave and they wouldn't bother to look for you" He answered rather grimly.