Steel Melody

Chapter 9: Fantasy failings

Heartrik's eyes jittered open to see the first man dead. The other two begged with their eyes. He was gripped along the shoulder and pulled before the next man. He struggled this time. Every effort was worthless as he tried to flee. His father would not let go. He was pushed down before the second. Their knees were weeping blood from wounds Heartrik gave them. Their laughing blue eyes were sunken in terror. Pure blond hair as gold as straw was stained in mud, curled like a childs after playing. Young features wrinkled and bruised in helpless expressions of distress. Language was not needed to show their wordless fear as they bent their bleeding knees and waited.

"No!" Heartrik shouted like a feverish animal. He couldn't care less about the prisoners. He would have killed them if he knew this would happen. It was his father's hold over him that he wanted to get away from. His words were barely audible between grunts and struggles. Marrow's arm came around his throat, pushing the strained bruises. Marrow held his head straight, his arms tight. Every muscle in Heartrik burned, being strained and twisted by his father. He lied in the mud, just like the soldiers. He was a puppet to his father, who now spoke nothing like the grandiose captain of the Raiders. When they two were alone and out of sight, Marrow the father took over.

"Look them in the eye." his father commanded in his cold cruel voice, the voice of his father. "Look them in the eye..." he repeated slowly. Heartrik tore his eyes open to see the young man weeping hot tears down their cheeks. Still they did not beg, they seemed too scared to. "What do you think they're feeling now, Heartrik? They're feeling fear. Those tears are warm with it. Do you remember the fear you used to feel?" Marrow asked.

Heartrik's throat tensed. A horrible blur, that was his only memory. He tried to find a hidden memory. Was it always this way? The smell of humid air sullied by the weighted breaths of dry mouthed horses, the weak feeling of standing atop mud drowned beneath rain adamant at swallowing you, the familiar touch of icy steel and revolver iron held for years on end, his father's glare over his shoulder. He found memories but they all felt the same. They felt like nothing at all.

"It is a horrible thing. Their suffering is your fault. Their fear is because of you. You should have killed them when you had the chance." Marrow said coldly. The man before Heartrik's barrel shook violently, barely staving off the urge to break into panicked cries. He shuddered like bare skin in the cold. "Pull the trigger Heartrik, end their suffering now before you need to drag it out any longer."

"This isn't my fault." Heartrik mumbled.

"It is." Marrow smiled.

Heartrik's hand was too weak to pull the trigger. In that moment he was just an extension of Marrow, arms linked. His finger was pushed down again against the trigger. He convulsed in shock at the sound, bundled in his fathers arms like a child. The second man was now face down in the mud. Their laughing blue eyes no longer met Heartrik's. Marrow moved Heartrik's hand to the third.

"This one is yours, Heartrik. No matter how long we need to wait."

The last man hid his eyes beneath a bowed head facing the earth. They shivered coldly, but wouldn't let themselves be seen as they bowed their head into their bloody knees, and faintly wept. Heartrik held his gun. He waited for his fathers finger to press down but it never came. He waited for minutes, but never. He would have gladly shot the man in battle, but in his own stupid way he wanted to spare them with that idiodic naive which plagued him. Now he tortured them. What could have been quick was drawn to suffer, and it was all his fault. Heartrik wanted to see the man's face before he squeezed the trigger. But the man would not acknowledge him. Unlike the other prisoners, they bowed and hid his face, and so the one Heartrik would kill himself would be faceless. Not even his victims could be held as a memory. He would give his father what he wanted. He wanted to miss his shot now more than ever, but his father wouldn't let him. His hand ceased quivering, becoming as firm as stone.

"Remember." Marrow's voice floated by his ear. "You can fail this. You always can. You can make mistakes, errors. I can always fix you after all... If you can't kill a man, that is just another problem that needs to be fixed, Heartrik."

There was nothing more needed to be said. It was the loudest sound he had ever heard. His perfect aim did not fail. Just as he had shot before he hit his target perfectly. Worst of all Marrow had not pressed down on the trigger this time. This time the murder was his.

"Good," said Marrow. When the deed was done the Raider took back over. "You are my son. If you can't kill a man, you're worthless. Don't make me invest more to help you on matters I know you can fulfil yourself." Marrow lectured casually, glimpses of the Father peering through. "Cowards get others to kill for them. Today I was forced to teach you what death is once again. If you need to be re-educated somehow, next time maybe death will teach you itself."

The relief of being released from his fathers grasp washed over him. His fathers threats were finished, and the men were dead. That was all that mattered, no matter what his father said. He prayed that it would never happen again. He should have just killed them, he told himself aloud, his eyes frozen at each of their bodies. Already they joined the others, the other dead men who glared at him from the dark. He had killed them, and if Marrow told him to, he would do it again. After all, it had gotten him his freedom away from his father's hands for even a moment and it was worth it. If it were for a second of relief, maybe he even liked killing a little.