"Mono No Aware"

Letterewe – 1650

Cadha was up ungodly early the next morning, and she took Struana with her to a riverbank about a half mile down from the homestead. There, under the first rays of daylight, the ladies washed linens in the stream. This was all punctuated with brief 'splash fight' breaks instigated by Struana, much to her mother's displeasure.

Penance followed them down, and he watched them work while leaning against a nearby beech tree. The boy played with pieces of flaky bark until a shadow came up to his side.

"Bloody hell," Uallas hid his eyes from the sunrise. "This is no time for a man to be out an' about..." He cradled his head, yawning loudly.

"I'd think you have plenty of morning chores to do on a homestead like this," Penance said.

"Ah, true enough. But those chores are all the ladies' domain. I'm quite happy to leave it to them."

"Chivalrous," the boy grumbled.

Uallas made a very unattractive noise through his nose, something like a snort mixed with a sneeze.

"I'm often up at the forges until dawn every day they have metal to bring me from the boats in the loch. And if I happen to be whipping up a batch of 'liquid steel' for my more, uh, 'select' customers then I can spend days at a time slaving away over the workbench. Not to be immodest dear boy, but my steel doesn't exactly sell for cheap, and none in my homestead wants for a thing. We needn't even maintain livestock, if we didn't really want to. The division of labor is a fair one."

"I feel like a louse, not being about to help..." Penance stared down at his splintered arm. "But then I remember that this was all your doing, and so you're the louse. As usual." He stuck his tongue out at the man.

"Charming," Uallas muttered. "Anyway, you're not here to work for your room and board, are you? No, my dear Penance, you're here to learn."

The man turned around and began walking back up to the homestead, but Penance stopped him:

"I'm here to learn, and in exchange for what, Uallas? Am I to believe that you'll teach me what I need to know out of the kindness of your heart?"

Uallas looked back at the boy; his expression was ineffable.

"Yes," he said simply.

"What if I told you I think you're a lying sack of shit?"

A small grin spread across the man's thin lips. He approached the boy, nodding:

"First: I'd say that lips so young needn't foul themselves with such language—"

"My lips are old—"

"Not to the sight, nor to the touch—"

"Eww. You're not gonna start getting weird on me now, are you?"

"The second thing I'd say," Uallas continued, "is that you're not so unintelligent, it seems. We might be able to skip a few lessons in your training. The first thing I was going to teach you, child, is that you should trust no one. Seems you've already got a handle on that lesson."

"So why should I trust you, anyway?"

"You broke bread with us, did you not? I'd think the fine meal, and the warmth of company should allay your concerns—"

"I thanked Cadha for the meal; she's the one that made it. You spent all that time drinking whiskey. And yeah, the meal was good. But, still: why should I trust you, Uallas?"

The man looked over at Cadha and her daughter as they scrubbed linens in the stream. The morning sunlight hit both women with golden rays, and it beamed beautifully off the water.

"Struana was born right there," he motioned. "Right on that riverbank, not one hundred feet from where the two of 'em are kneeling, now."

Penance followed the man's gaze, and then he looked back up at him:

"You were there for that?"

Uallas nodded.

"Mmm. I wasn't settled at this homestead, then. No, I was much closer to the loch. At the time I was scouting locations and looking for a good place to set up a new forge a little further away from all others. I get these rather intense moods every few decades; it's a certain sulkiness, and a great desire to be all alone by myself. But this time it didn't quite pan out. Cadha's folk hails from further north of here, up around the tall mountains, and it was there that she lived with her husband, on her own homestead.

"The winter was particularly cruel, however, and her husband suffered greatly, working out in the elements, until his lungs took to rotting. He died in their small cabin, leaving Cadha so very ripe with their daughter, and with precious few supplies. Without provisions she was doomed to certain starvation, unless of course she thought to eat Struana after birthing her."

At first Penance nodded with disinterest at the man's words, but then his head shot up quickly. He gave Uallas a frightful, cold stare.

"What?" The man shrugged. "Desperate times, and all—"

"Eating a baby?"

"Well, rodents and such will, if a mother hasn't the strength to nurse her litter—"

"Humans aren't rodents!"

"Well, some aren't, perhaps. In any event, Cadha did what a mother had to do, struggling down the mountain, and to the last she crawled on her hands and knees for Letterewe— what could be her only hope. She wouldn't make it, of course, and in her exhaustion her labor pains began.

"With her last ounce of strength she tried crawling to the water's edge, looking for at least some kind of refreshment in her final moments. I found her that way, writhing like a worm at my feet, screaming in the pain of birthing, desperate for at least a drink. I remember standing over her, then, and looking down at her frail little body. Do you know what I thought, then, in that very instant? I thought about the day she must have been born— Cadha— this miserable little thing beneath me, and I realized that, to me, the day of her birth might've been yesterday, or even mere hours ago, for all the impact those years would leave on me. After all, my dear Penance, when you get to be over 500 years old you'll begin to see the lifespan of a normal human being as almost insignificant, very like the life of a worm writhing at your feet."

Penance looked back over at the women kneeling in the stream. He furrowed his brow:

"That's a disgusting way to think about others."

Uallas shook his head:

"No. It's only perspective. It's the natural way to look at others, when you're like us, because that is how it truly is. What's disgusting, or not, is how you react to that perspective, and there are two ways to react, I think. For one: this realization can make you discount the value of mortal life. There's no reason to really care about something so frail and transient, after all. A normal person becomes like livestock to be milked in the pen, or weeds to be pulled up from the ground: a means to whatever end an Immortal heart desires."

Uallas watched as little Struana took another one of her 'breaks', wading out into the stream as Cadha sternly ordered her back. The water shimmered in the sunlight as she splashed it, and the sight made the man smile.

"There is another way to look at things," he said. "Seeing the fragile nature of all the life around him— the delicateness, and its fleetingness— a man might find himself all the more appreciative to be in its presence." He looked down at Penance. "I take it you've never been to the Orient?"

The boy shook his head.

"Figured as much," Uallas nodded. "Well, on the island of Japan they have a certain philosophy— it is how their culture views all those fragile little things not made to last long in this world. They call it 'an awareness of things'."

Penance snorted:

"They couldn't think of a better name than that?"

Uallas shrugged:

"It sounds slightly more meaningful in the native tongue. Anyway, the Japanese have a certain respect for the fleeting nature of a phenomenon— like familiar shapes in a passing cloud soon to scatter, or the magnificence of a cherry blossom in full bloom— for those precious few days it blooms— right before it lilts off its tree to die on the cold, hard ground. The people there do not view such things as meaningless; they consider the full impact such things leaves on them, in their own lives, and when those things inevitably fade away they reflect on its passing with deep contemplation, and respect. The thing is assigned even more value exactly because its life is so short. It's made all the more special that way."

The man chuckled to himself, and he leaned against the beech tree.

"Well, I got water for Cadha, and then I tended to her as best I could. She delivered little Stru right then and there, mere minutes after I happened upon her. The li'l lass popped out of her like a cannonball from the bore. Uh, not to be indelicate, mind you—"

Penance tried to hide the flush in his cheeks.

"Too late," he muttered.

"Struana went careening right into the creek. She nearly floated away before I snatched her out of the water, dried her off and set her in her mother's arms. And then, when I stared down at Cadha and her babe— both of them a haggard and awful sight, just huddling together, delirious..." Uallas stopped speaking for a moment and stared down at the grass beneath his feet. "Ah, no: it wasn't two pitiable worms writhing at my feet, then, Penance. They were lovely cherry blossoms— rare and precious— and they were shining in the sun." He shook his head and scoffed. "Would you believe Cadha gave me the right to name her little girl as a reward? I thought to name her 'Sakura'..."

Penance squinted.

"'Sakura'?"

Uallas waved a hand, smirking.

"Not important. But, in her good sense, Cadha got me to change my mind a few days later."

"What does any of this have to do with me trusting you, Uallas? I'm not like your little adopted family, here; I'm like you."

The man cleared his throat and looked back to the grand hills behind his homestead, as if shielding himself from the rising sun:

"No, you are unlike me, child. Immortals of your tender age do not tend to last long, Penance. In the grand design of the Game, young lads and lasses are too often merely lambs to the slaughter. The odds, you see, are so very firmly set against you..."

Penance's eyes widened. He remembered what Uallas told him on top of that hill, when he first reached the homestead:

"You once said my situation is 'completely hopeless'."

"But, also, that I like a hopeless cause, mo flath beag." The man looked back at Penance, and he smiled.

"You said kids like me are lambs to the slaughter, Uallas? You told me that other Immortals would kill us. That we die? Is that right?"

The man nodded gravely.

"How does that happen?" Penance whispered.

The man took a deep breath, and he motioned beyond the homestead.

"I'll show you," he whispered.

X

X

X

Penance could only die if his head were removed from his shoulders.

That was pretty straightforward, actually.

"Uh, and why is that?"

"Other than the fact that your head would look awfully funny just kinda rolling about on its own, with you gabbing on about how bummed you are, not having a body? After all: if an Immortal's head falls in the forest, should it keep making a sound? I think not..."

Uallas held up one of his creations, a mighty silver longsword, and he paced around the boy. Penance held up another sword from the man's stock, or rather he tried to hold it up, but it trembled even in his two hands. They'd lugged the things all the way out into the deepest woods behind the homestead. Penance thought this trip was for privacy, but Uallas mentioned something about how they needed to have 'some space' away from that giant carved stone in the middle of his land.

Penance wouldn't have minded, otherwise, but the sword was ungodly heavy...

"That stone rising out of the ground on the homestead is very old; it was carved by an elder civilization and they called Scotland home over a thousand years before the Roman Empire trundled up into England." Uallas continued moving in a predatory circle around the boy. "That stone declared that the land all around it is sacred, consecrated by their gods."

Uallas took a slow swing at Penance, who could barely raise his sword to counter. When he did the boy went reeling back, nearly landing square on his rear.

"By the rules of the Game, those interested in playing must do single-combat with their opponent, bladed weapons only, and they must fight fairly and honorably until one of them loses their head, after which the victor claims their strength. But above all we must never fight on holy ground, Penance."

"Why?"

Uallas' smile curled up into something much darker; the man shook his head, his large hazel eyes boring into the boy like daggers:

"Ah, well, if you ever do then 'interesting' things tend to happen..."

X

X

X

Uallas led him northward until they reached the banks of another loch, and along a bank of cliffs Uallas ushered the boy into a small, hidden cave. He ordered Penance to sit on the moss-carpeted stones as he lit a small lantern, and it cast sickly yellow light all about. The greasy fumes of the lantern blended with the dank musk of the cavern; the smell was noxious.

"Hold your pose," Uallas barked at Penance as he saw the boy wrinkle his nose. "Eyes closed, head bowed, and mind clear..."

"You mentioned that one Immortal who kills another gains their 'strength'," Penance mumbled. "What did you mean by that?"

"There is a certain thing," Uallas said, "that moves inside an Immortal's body. Much like the pulse of a beating heart, or the churn of the blood in one's veins. The only difference is that the life energy of an Immortal is intangible, and ineffable; it is something from beyond all things alive— superseding life itself— its nature known only to whatever great Source may have birthed it." Uallas carefully set the lantern down between them, and he got cross-legged directly across from the boy. "It cannot be felt in the same way a beating heart can, nor spilled as easily as blood from a vein. But in death an Immortal body unleashes all that it is, beyond its physical form, and imparts that power to the nearest Immortal body, giving it all that it was. We call this the 'Quickening', and in it the victorious Immortal acts as a kind of lightning rod for all that dispelled power."

Penance, eyes still closed, furrowed his brow:

"Sounds like it would hurt."

"No. No, on the contrary, Penance, it's... it's exhilarating..."

The boy opened his eyes, and he blinked in the darkness of the cave:

"You've taken Immortal heads before, Uallas?"

The man had been staring at the far cave wall, eyes dreamy, but he quickly snapped back to the moment and looked at the boy:

"Yes," he nodded. "I have. I played the game well, in my time, but I no longer see fit to, anymore. Maybe 635 years of life produce a certain maturity in a man, and make him see beyond the need to fight and kill?" He scoffed. "Or maybe it takes that long for a man to simply lose his balls, and become the womanly coward? Ah, who knows, child?"

"You said before that 'there can be only one'. Isn't that right?"

Uallas nodded.

Penance looked at the man intently, and his iron blue eyes burned in the crackling light of the lantern:

"Uallas, if there were only you, and me, and we were the only two left, would you try to—"

"Before you ask that question, child, I want you to consider this: do you really want me to give you an answer?"

Silence ruled the cave. The pair sat across from each other, staring into each other's eyes, and both man and boy might've been cave paintings on the wall, or rocks rising from the earth, for all the movement between them.

"No," Penance whispered.

The man smiled.

"Hmm. Good. Now, then: eyes closed..."

Penance did so, and he listened as Uallas fed him words. Nothing made much sense to him; they were all vague directions, like 'pretend you're reaching out into a pit, and feeling the darkness there, only there's not just darkness, is there'? He was ordered to 'search' for the light in the darkness.

Put simply: the boy had no idea what the hell he was doing.

But then, all of a sudden, and after God knew how much time had passed, Penance felt his insides 'turn'. It all happened when he lost focus entirely, and Uallas' droning words became a low and faint 'buzz' in his brain. Penance was still turning that mental image in his mind, reaching down into a black pit, but then— out of nowhere— there was something other than the darkness. It was like a hand, and it grabbed the boy by his scruff and yanked him down into that pit. Penance got that weird feeling as if he were falling in a dream, but instead of waking with a start he could feel an odd sensation; it was as if his mind were 'spreading' all across the cavern, like butter on toast. He could feel his brain's reach 'expanding'. He caught a startled breath in his throat, and then, for just a fraction of a moment, he looked up and he could see Uallas. He could tell everything about him: his distance, his posture, his smell, and his temperament, and all if it came rushing into his eyes.

But his eyes were still tightly shut.

Penance collapsed forward, and when he managed to open his eyes and look up he saw Uallas towering over him, holding the lantern up.

"Wh— what was that?" Penance managed.

"It was a good start," the man smiled.

X

X

X

He took Penance to the rocks above the cliff, and they watched the setting sun.

"We adult Immortals have a certain 'sense' for each other's presence; we can feel each other nearby quite keenly, and it is without effort that we do so."

"Because of that power, right?"

"Just so," Uallas nodded. "Now, a child's body is a different matter. Inside your body courses that same Immortal power, Penance, but it is of a different 'hue', so to speak. Perhaps it's simply not enough power, being inside a body so small, but for whatever reason it is nigh impossible for an adult Immortal to sense a child's presence." Uallas looked down at Penance and patted the boy's shoulder. "That is to say, my dear boy: you are practically invisible to our kind."

"Then how'd you find me at Dunbar?" Penance asked.

Uallas shrugged:

"Oh, a touch of the skin's enough. And touch I did, when I was ordered to remove bodies from the Covenanter camp."

"Inside the cave, when I could feel you, even without seeing you—"

Uallas nodded:

"You have the power to see all Immortals around you, but it is not an effortless thing. It requires the deepest of meditations, and it is a skill you must develop. Along with your final 'advantage'..."

Penance looked up at the man:

"What's that?"

"Your small body: it will heal faster than other Immortals, Penance, if you take the time to 'develop' that gift. If you develop it enough then you'll even have the ability to awaken from any 'deaths' you may suffer at a tremendous rate."

"How do I develop it?" Penance asked.

Uallas scoffed.

"Well, there's only one way, really..."

Suddenly, and without warning, Uallas took his sword and lunged for the boy. Penance tried to block, but he couldn't raise his sword fast enough, and the man pierced Penance's stomach quite easily. The brought the boy to his knees, hands on his wound, and he glared up at the man while coughing up a wad of blood:

"Would you stop doing that, you asshole?"

Uallas shook his head as he disinterestedly cleaned his blade.

"No, in fact I won't. Suffering wounds and 'deaths' is what will develop that healing rate—"

"But you're ambushing me—"

"Yes, I am," Uallas nodded. "And get used to it. That'll be our training method, Penance. And it'll be that way because that's how you will be beheaded, if an Immortal chooses to attack you. If you don't learn to see it coming, then you'll be at the Pearly Gates before you know what's happened—"

"You said all fights are single-combat," Penance moved his hands a little to inspect his wound; to his displeasure he found that it had not quite healed up, yet. "And honorable combat, too!"

The man snorted through his nose:

"What 'honor' is there in facing down a young boy, swords crossed? No, Penance. It was decided at some point long ago that forcing children to cross blades with adults was a particularly heartless exercise. Honesty: I could train you for decades, and in the end you'd be a superb swordsman, by technique, but when you can barely even lock blades with an opponent without falling on your arse from the weight of the weapons, well, the purpose is somewhat defeated..."

"So it's less heartless to just ambush kids and rip their heads off without warning?"

Uallas nodded.

"Yes, it is. Especially when those children are also allowed to ambush, without repercussion, and especially when those children are for all intents and purposes invisible to the adults that they are competing with."

Penance's ragged breaths suddenly came up short. The boy cocked his head, at last aware of the full potential of these disparate 'advantages'.

Uallas chuckled, registering the surprise on the boy's face. He slowly sat down beside the Penance, knees cracking, and he ruffled the child's hair.

"That's alright, Penance. For the moment, at least, I can do your thinking for you. And right now I'm thinking of a proper weapon we might give you..."

Penance stared at the giant broadsword in his lap:

"What: a sword?"

Uallas shook his head:

"Ah, no, lad. I'm thinking something more 'befitting' your juvenile frame. Perhaps a butter knife..."

Penance glared up at the man, and that made Uallas laugh even harder:

"Don't sell me short, just yet. You'd be amazed what things we can conjure, with the power of 'liquid steel'..."

The sun finally set down on the horizon, and for a few minutes the pair watched it in silence.

"Another day," the man finally said. "I must be north of a quarter-million of them, by now. That many sunrises, and that many sunsets..." He looked down at the boy. "This day is special for me, though. It's the end of an age..."

"What age?"

Uallas shrugged.

"I've never taken another Immortal under my wing, Penance. Never. You see for all my strengths I consider myself a lousy teacher..." Uallas took a small flask out from his vest and gulped down three deep swigs.

Penance smiled at the man:

"Well, maybe I'll be a lousy student, huh? It kinda balances out, right?"

Uallas looked down at Penance, and he smiled. He handed the boy the flask, and Penance took a small nip of whiskey. When he handed it back to the man Uallas took another big swig. He sighed dramatically and shrugged:

"Mono No Aware," Uallas whispered.

"What's that?" Penance asked.

"That Japanese phrase I told you about: that appreciation for things that are not destined to last. Penance, I must be honest: I'm feeling that right now." Again he ruffled the boy's hair. "And I feel it very keenly, indeed..."

"What: about me, you mean? You really don't like my chances, do you, Uallas?"

The man's somber face slowly melted away into a dopey grin. He held his flask upside down, and only a few stray drops of whiskey fell from it:

"Nope," he chuckled. "But a dead child is merely off-putting, mo flath beag. An empty flask, Penance? Now that is a distressing tragedy!"