Hollow Immortal

Temper Temper

Vlad's thirteenth birthday was fast approaching and Caine was impressed by what he had achieved in his five years with the boy. He was already quick, strong and good with a sword. A wooden one anyway. Caine decided it was time to take his training to the next level.

"Caine," the boy's voice was deeper than when they first met, "what are we doing tonight?"

"The usual," Caine replied, "pick your weapon."

He was staring out the window at the stars in the sky. How beautiful they were. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such contentment. He wasn't happy though, he was far from happy. He wanted to die but he'd forfeited that already. All that comforted him was spending time with Vlad. He didn't really talk to anyone besides him, his father and, occasionally, his mother.

"They're not here, where are they?" Vlad asked him, referring to the swords they usually trained with.

Caine pointed, across the room, to the fireplace where bright flames devoured logs and two things that resembled the 'swords' he'd made out of four wooden stakes that had found their way to his doorstep, supposedly as a threat, one evening.

"But..." Vlad's voice trailed.

He'd been very satisfied with the sword when it was presented to him. Before, they'd used sturdy sticks.

"Yes, Vlad," Caine said, turning around, "it's time we stop messing around. You need to learn how real swords work."

"You mean you want to train with the real thing?" Vlad raised an eyebrow, "You'll kill me."

Caine smiled, "Not if you're good enough."

Vlad armed himself with the only fencing sabre Caine had and he arched a brow. He indicated the scimitar right next to it. It was a much sturdier, much better-looking sword. Caine didn't even consider fencing sabres to be real swords but that was probably due to him being accustomed to using much larger, much heavier swords. Why the hell did Vlad take the sabre?

Vlad shook his head, "No, not yet."

Caine shrugged, "Suit yourself."

He looked for something to use, himself, but realised that it wouldn't matter what he picked. He and the boy would be far from evenly matched. They would be under normal circumstances with proper swords but a fencing sabre. Caine sighed and picked up the fireplace poker.

"Go on," he said.

Vlad rushed him with the fencing sabre, which looked a little strange, not to mention barely threatening, and he stepped out of the sword's path but Vlad spun straight on to him. Caine held up the poker to parry the sabre. The sabre wobbled a bit as the clash of steel against iron rang out. Caine took a typical fencing stance and, with a flick of his wrist, knocked Vlad's sabre out of his hand. He frowned at he boy.

"How many times have I told you to hold your weapon properly?" he barked, "If I were an enemy you'd be dead. Pick up your blade."

Vlad bent down and picked the sabre up, not taking his eyes off of Caine. Something Caine had also stressed. Never lose sight of an adversary.

Vlad mimicked his stance and expertly parried Caine's poker when he moved. Each movement was short, resulting in many clangs and clashes. The poker and the sabre crossed. Caine drew back first then, quickly, swung for Vlad's shoulder. Vlad's arms jerked to parry the poker but he was a fraction of a millisecond too late. The poker found its mark and Vlad staggered sideways.

"Watch that blindside," Caine said, as he reached out to steady Vlad.

Both of them took stance again and Vlad moved first this time, lunging forward blade first. Caine stepped to the side and let the sabre slide against his waist. He grabbed Vlad's sword hand with one hand and held the poker to Vlad's stomach with the other.

"Not good enough," Caine criticized.

Vlad gripped the poker with his free hand and wrenched it out of Caine's firm grasp. He then used it to hit the hand that was holding his sword hand and kicked Caine backwards as he pulled it free. Caine smiled, he'd taught him that one. True, it had come awfully late but, still, it was used. Vlad put the sabre blade against his throat and the poker against his stomach.

"How about that?" Vlad asked, a viscious snarl on his lips.

Over the past couple of months, Caine noticed that Vlad was developing a very explosive, war-like temper and whenever it reared its head, Vlad's skills would improve in short bursts. Caine knew that he was in the middle of one if these episodes and just about ready to tear his throat out.

"Almost there," Caine replied, unsheathing a dagger he had hidden in his coat.

He, with all the force he could, knocked the sabre away from his throat and grabbed the poker at his stomach. This seemed to anger the boy. He tossed the poker over his shoulder and got up. He reached for Vlad's shirt but Vlad ducked under his arms, leaving him to stagger forward while Vlad retrieved his sword. Caine turned around just in time to have a blade slip between his two bottom ribs. Vlad's face immediately portrayed remorse.

"I'm sorry," he said, clearly unsure of whether or not he should pull it out, " I... I got a little carried away."

"Just a little," Caine replied and grunted as he pulled the sword out, "good job, Vladimir. Now we need to move on to the next step."

"What's that?" Vlad asked.

"How to control that temper of yours."