Amongst Thieves

Chapter TEN- Old Lessons

'Hand to hand combat, it could save your life one day so listen up!' Mallik called, quieting the room in an instant as the youths strained to catch his words.

'Fighting? Even for the girls?' A small voice called from the front of the group.

Mallik shook his head slowly in mock disbelief.

'Yes, even for the girls. People can kill you just as easy as the men, if not easier. I thought you knew that by now.'

He raised his voice again, re-taking the air of an instructor.

'This is the last thing left to test before starting the actual training. As always the first thing we need to do is figure out who knows what so we will start with one-on-one sparring. Any volunteers?'

The older boys beamed, eager for the chance to push their weight around as the younger members of the round shrank into themselves. Mallik had barely finished the sentence before the largest of the group was on his feet, sweeping his eyes across the room in silent challenge.

Callen felt the familiar coldness sweep over him. He was sick of it, sick of all of them. It wasn't enough to hide in the corner and ignore them anymore; he wanted nothing to do with them. More than that, he needed them to want nothing to do with him.

He rose to his feet without a word, ignoring the laughter from the larger boys and blatant looks of horror from the smaller ones. The girl who had stood up for him that morning looked close to fainting.

'Guess we're gonna find out if a mute can scream!' The thug called to the crowd with a wicked smile and a hungry look in his eye.

'Right,' Mallik muttered uncertainly, 'if you're sure. Head out the front and show us what you know. Try not to hurt each other too badly.'

The man joined the crowd as the two boys moved to the empty space at the front of the room.

'You're gonna regret that,' the brute said with a dark smile. 'Ain't no one here'll care if I break you a little. You should have run home when you had the chance.'

He was nearing his twenties, if not older, towering over Callen and weighing two- if not three times as much as the small boy. He was wide-set and muscular, with thick jaw and flat nose: a brawler. Callen stared up without a hint of fear as he slowly removed his shirt.

Murmurs erupted as he tossed it aside, watching from the corner of his eye as each onlooker caught sight of the scars the crossed his chest and back, hearing the word 'slum' float on whispers around the room as they pointed at his arms. He didn't care; he was sick of hiding what he was. Better to get it over with now.

Mallik quietened the room with a stare as the two boys faced each other. Despite the reaction from the crowd the older of the two exuded confidence as he waited for his chance to dominate the smaller boy.

Callen stared back silently.

With an animal-like grunt the man lunged forward, relying on his greater reach and wild punches to end the fight quickly. Callen didn't move a step, slight movements of his torso and arms sending the man's fists flying past him. The man stepped away, seeming confused at how he had missed. Brow furrowed in concentration he came again, his punches more measured but no closer to reaching Callen as the boy stepped slowly, almost lazily away from each one. The rage building within the man was written plainly across his face, made worse as the crowd called out support and taunts alike. He was fighting a child, it should have been over after the first punch. He changed tactic, abandoning distance and charging the small boy head-on, aiming to crush him into the dirt.