Brother of the Desert Rats

Broken

Zaelan hurried down the courtyard and towards the training grounds as fast as his injured leg could carry him. As the days passed since his trial and punishment, Zaelan had come to the reality of his situation. His leg was permanently damaged.

A physician had been sent by Ara to give him a full physical check and there had been no sugarcoating the truth. Zaelan had lost almost all hearing in his left ear, and it had not healed well, leaving it deformed and ugly. And while he could still walk, his knee would most likely ache and have a weakness for the rest of his life.

It had been a brutal beating, he had overheard the physician tell Captain Lev and Ara in hushed tones.

Captain Lev had then come to sit with him and tell him not to take it to heart. But Zaelan was a soldier. The possibility that he might never be able to properly wield a sword again weighed down upon him.

As he reached the training ground, Zaelan paused to catch his breath. and found himself enviously watching the soldiers as they sparred together in practice. 

Among them, was Ara and Emir. Even as they fought against each other with wooden sticks, the tension in the air was obvious. Their movements were stiff and awkward, betraying their reluctance at having each other as a sparring partner. As Ara brought her stick down with sudden uncanny speed, Emir let his drop and was struck sharply in the chest. He staggering back, gasping for the air that had been driven from his lungs.

Ara's eyes blazed and she used her stick to strike him again, this time sending him to the ground.

"How dare you let me win so easily?" she snapped at him, placing the end of the stick against his neck. "You know how I despise weakness."

Emir stared up at her and when he spoke, the weariness in his voice was plain to hear.

"Do you really believe this is what I want?"

He winced as Ara pressed the stick harder into his skin.

"I have seen the way you watch me. So don't dare to pretend otherwise." She paused, and for a moment a look of pain crossed her face. But it was quickly replaced with a scowl. "You disgust me."

She cursed as Captain Lev strode quickly forward and yanked her away. Rubbing his neck, Emir slowly got to his feet. But he kept his head low, staring dazedly at the ground.

"Stop blaming him, Ara," Captain Lev was scolding her. "It won't fix anything or make you any happier."

Ara shoved the captain away from her and strode away without looking back. But as she passed by Zaelan, he saw the tears she was holding back. He did not have time to react however, as he heard Captain Lev call his name.

Zaelan walked slowly over to him, glancing at Emir as he did so.

"Here, you spar with Emir then," Captain Lev was ordering, as he thrust a stick into Zaelan's hand. "We are not breaking any bones, but give him a few bruises if you can. Show me if you still have it in you, or if you are better fitted to being Ara's horse boy."

Zaelan's face flushed, but it was more from anger than with shame. At the same time, he understood that Captain Lev was doing it on purpose. He knew that Zaelan had many disadvantages compared to Emir. But the anger had boiled his blood and caused the adrenaline to rush through him. With a loud cry, he raised the stick and struck out at Emir.

He wanted to prove to them that he still had worth. He was Zaelan, the son of Lord Ryon. He had been the top of his class in military school. He had been known for his speed and skill in combat. He was-

His knee suddenly buckled beneath him, and he fell forward onto the ground. Emir immediately stopped his attack and stepped back for him to rise. But this only humiliated Zaelan all the more.

He hated the young man with the Eastern features that reminded him vaguely of Zarek. He hated the man for having called him brother. He hated him for whatever he had done to Ara to cause her such pain.

But perhaps he hated himself the most. He hated his broken body, and his weakening mentality. Hated himself for pitying the one he had to call Master.

Rising to his feet, he again moved to attack Emir. This time he paid more attention to his opponent, seeking for a weakness. Emir was light of his feet, and extremely flexible. But as they circled each other, Zaelan noted that Emir had no great skill with the way he handled the pretend sword. He had not been raised in a strict military school as Zaelan had, where they trained from dawn to dusk.

Moving his feet quickly, and the stick even quicker, Zaelan struck at Emir's wrist. Emir dodged the blow easily however, and in that moment Zaelan understood Ara's anger. Emir should have easily been able to sidestep the blow she had given him. Instead he had intentionally lost to her.

And the thought angered him. He raised the stick, and as Emir went to dodge it again, Zaelan changed his movement and kicked him hard in the chest. Emir was sent flying backwards, and as Zaelan kicked him again, he fell to the ground.

In an instance, Zaelan was standing over him, ready to strike again. But as he stared down at the fallen soldier, the scene before his eyes seemed to morph into another. Blood. A pool of blood that seemed to endlessly grow.

Zaelan's stomach lurched and he staggered back, choking and retching. He could half make out Emir rising to his feet and reaching out towards him, but Zaelan slapped his hand away. Turning, he began stumbling away. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to leave the training ground behind him.

The movement of the sticks in the air and the shouts of the soldiers only reminded him of the beatings he had received at the prison.

The wagon passing by reminded him of his flogging as the driver cracked his whip to urge the horses on.

Stumbling by the cattle yard, Zaelan saw a young bull being branded. And he flinched as he felt the scar on his forehead throb and burn.

His feet stumbled and Zaelan fell to one knee. He stayed there for a moment, sucking in deep breaths that did not seem to satisfy the breathlessness that filled him. Pulling himself back to his feet, he dragged himself into the nearby barn and collapsed onto the straw covered floor in a dark corner.

Reaching into his tunic, Zaelan pulled out a pouch that contained the last of the Drelusion leaf. He hesitated for a moment, remembering Emir's grave words. But the pain in his heart and mind were unbearable. Opening his mouth, Zaelan poured it all in.

A warm fuzzy sensation immediately washed over him as the drug took hold. At first all he could see was a blur of dancing colours. But soon his despairing mind, began conjuring up the fragmented memories of his past.

He could see his family gathered in the family room. His father was studying a list of resources he needed shipped in, while the womenfolk were embroidering by the fire.

In his clouded mind, Zaelan could hear his father humming to his mother's sweet tune. Maya joined in at the chorus, her soft voice reaching the highest notes, that even their mother strained to reach.
Then as the night grew late and his father bade them retire, he felt Maya brush past him, and heard her whisper a goodnight. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder as he bade him rest early and to do well in the morning. He could see his mother's hand reaching out to caress his face and bid him sleep peacefully. 

Without warning, the hand struck him savagely across the face, driving the air from him. Before his dazed mind could comprehend what was happening, his body was being pulled up and he was forced to half walk, half stumble along. 

Then his legs were kicked out from beneath him, and his head was submerged under water. He was brought back up, struggling and gasping for air. But he had barely taken a breath, before he was thrust face down into the dark cold water once more. Then suddenly and mercifully, he was released.

He fell back, sobbing in the cool night air, letting it fill his burning lungs. Collapsing back, the water dripping from his face, he lay staring up into the starlit sky. Then the drelusion leaf took over once more, wrapping him in a delusional warmth and sending him into a restless sleep.