It had been almost three weeks since Tazim's argument with Basilio. Almost three whole weeks since being accepted into Nahir's group of fools.
Ironically enough, none in the group were fools. Far from it, as a matter of fact.
Gadiel was most difficult to get along with, a prominent reason of why Tazim dreaded their meet-ups at night. But the boy was cunning, he was smart in ways others would not understand. Gadiel was a promising strategist, though he lacked discipline. His lack of patience was one of his strongest weaknesses.
He was always so angry with the world, and everyone in it. Even while having a comfortable slumber underneath a tree, Gadiel's scowl never calmed.
Luckily for him, Gadiel was almost always too busy with their youngest pup, Kabir, to pick any fights with Tazim during their gatherings. More often than not, the two simply kept their distance. Though, even that didn't keep them from meddling in each other's affairs.
"You read too much," Gadiel spat out one afternoon, his eyes growing as dark as his skin. Together, they awaited Nahir just outside the village, watching the few who passed them by.
Tazim paid him no mind, keeping his legs crossed comfortably before him, reading silently on the ground. He pulled his book closer, more out of spite than anything else, "At least I know how to read."
With Kabir nowhere to be found, Gadiel rained his sour attitude on Tazim for entertainment. He played with a length of thick rope in his hands, twisting it round in different knots as they both waited for the setting sun. There was no use in trying to have a civil conversation as they often ended with both boys at each other's throats.
From nearby a fruit stand, Gadiel spots the peculiar head of hair of a special, Spanish boy. Basilio strolls calmly. Alone, with an orange in his hand, paying no mind to anyone else. A part of Gadiel was curious about the runt. Tazim and Basilio were very rarely seen apart, and now they wouldn't even look at one another or acknowledge each other's existence. Gadiel can only grin, casting a glance at Tazim who sits beneath him, in the dirt. "I'm surprised the runt has not given you a hard time. What did you do to him?"
Following his gaze, Tazim only scoffs before returning to his book. He lies. There was no reason for the other boy to know the truth. "He was slowing me down. Now leave me be."
The former friends may not have completely fallen apart. They were on a break, Tazim often told himself. Simply a long break apart from one another. It had been weeks since their argument. Weeks in which Tazim actively rejected the Spanish boy, instead spending his newly acquired free time with his new comrades.
It was typical now to spot Basilio during meals, alone with his nose buried in a book, or rebandaging the wounds on his arms and hands. One particular day, Rafi himself sat with the boy. Though that never stopped Basilio from glancing over at Tazim, something of which the ladder never caught on with. Pristine eyes always watching from afar.
He was fine, Tazim reminded himself. He would live.
Gadiel watches the Spanish boy disappear from view before giving Tazim a nudge with his boot, smudging his robes with dirt, "Do you think he would follow me around? A runt of his status?"
"You filthy mongrel!" Tazim exclaims, grabbing hold of the other boy's foot and pulling him to the ground.
Not their most elegant of fights, the two wrestle and tear their robes as they struggle on the floor like a pair of fools. Gadiel has already punched Tazim's lip before the other boy pounces on his chest. Tazim grabs his book from beside him and prepared to land a hit on his opponent's face before he was stopped.
"Enough, you children!" Nahir shouts, shoving Tazim from Gadiel's chest. He yells and scolds them both, picking them each up roughly once he is able to. His face is red with anger, "This is no way for men to behave!"
Gadiel wipes his nose, forcing a serious face as he puts space between himself and his angry friend, "How else would we make you arrive faster. We missed you."
There's no way Tazim could hold back his smile. He knew Gadiel had seen it, keeping his own grin off his lips. They were no closer to becoming men, what harm would come from playfully fighting the other?
Though Nahir rolled his eyes, there was no denying the humor within them. He motioned for the two to follow him, explaining that he had important news and they could not waste a second. They were to meet with their youngest, Kabir, until later in the night. One disadvantage of being a younger novice; more work.
"Have we finally been properly appreciated?" Gadiel asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as they kept a firm pace. He cleaned the blood and spit from his face, they blended with the faded bruise on his chin. A few men, differing of ages, glanced their way. Surely judging their soiled demeanor, in contrast to Nahir's well-kept robes.
"You've heard and seen the men having games, have you not?" Nahir explained calmly as they neared the hill.
Tazim perked up, "Is that what all the shouting is about?"
It was impossible to miss it. For the past two days, all types of shouting throughout the night could be heard coming from the courtyard. Tazim had grown curious, at times debating on leaving the warmth of his bed to find answers. His sluggishness permanently won each of those small battles.
"A competition of sorts, according to Ibrahim." Nahir told them, an arm over each of his friends' shoulders, "A test of strength and skill, which we clearly have."
"Ibrahim?" Gadiel asked, shaking his head in disagreement and immediately pulling away, "No, I don't trust him. He made us follow him blindly as novices."
His words caused Nahir to make a sour face, waving his hand dismissively, "Unknowingly eating worms should be the least of your worries. Ibrahim himself will be competing. Come now."
Spring came with its advantages as well as its disadvantages. It was the current weather that made the men lazy and far too comfortable. Especially during the night.
There were fewer chores to be done, and not many assignments needing attention. It was a time of which the majority of the men were stuck in the castle with nothing better to do. That in itself was both a blessing as well as a curse.
What started as a friendly spar to prove the better swordsman, quickly turned into an all around contest. Whoever wished to participate could do so, the rest would be found watching and cheering from the sidelines. Nahir was the only one amongst them who grew curious enough to search for a detailed answer. Always so eager to be in the front lines.
They reached the courtyard quickly. Men were gathered, prepared for their nightly set up of activities. A few climbed the walls of the castle, finding a comfortable nook to watch the courtyard below. Others, it seemed, were content in watching the action up close, first helping to clear the sparring ring or bring forth equipment.
Tazim was reminded of his nights spent in training with Basilio. The warm and lively, most eagerly driven atmosphere he'd ever encountered. Though, after befriending his new group of comrades, the young man was no longer welcomed with open arms to the training grounds.
Their misfortune, not his own.
As the trio of boys watched on as the men prepared the courtyard, and others prepared for their sparring matches, a particular thought blossomed in Tazim's mind. He turns his attention to Nahir who beams beside him, "Does Abbas condone such actions?"
"Please," the boy answered easily, nodding up to the balcony of the castle, "I have a feeling even he wagers in who will come out on top. We'll join as well, only not today."
They stay and watch the first few matches. Some compete in swordsmanship, it's likely the first round for those who recently decide to enter in the games. There were others who portrayed their skill in knife throwing, close combat, and races through the village, among other tests.
The most favored of the challenges seems to be sword-fighting. It seemed to Tazim that this trial in itself was key in making one's mark. In furthering one's self in the silly competition.
Of course. It drew the most blood.
Had it really come as a surprise, knowing the men would toss the practice swords aside in favor for the real thing?
As they observed the chaos before them, something churned within Tazim's belly. Pride? Fear? Perhaps it was the eagerness to get his hands dirty. He can hardly tell the difference anymore. So much goes through his mind, watching as the sparring men draw blood for the entertainment of the rest.
What are they rewarded with? The cheers of those who wouldn't care if either one of them died.
The applause of their ever-so-loyal audience. The screams and shouts of those perched high alongside the castle walls, and of the others trudging in the mud below. The whispers of clandestine wagers of possible death passed Tazim's ears. It was sickening.
There's no solid reasoning for the way Tazim feels that night. The shouts are deafening, it doesn't take long until Tazim realizes its his own voice alongside his brothers. Tazim howls out the names of those in the ring, recoils when someone is harshly injured, and curses when the fight ends poorly. If it weren't for his lack of coin, he may have even wagered as well.
Somehow, he's not surprised over his lack of self composure.
It was different. New. And he grew fond of it.
It isn't until they are on their way back to their own quarters that Tazim feels someone's gaze on his back. He's being watched, and he knows it. All night long, the dreaded sensation of being someone's target.
Something snaps inside him. Be it the adrenaline from watching the matches, the warm blood that had been left to stain the ring in sin, or the reminder that they each held dear lives. Tazim is unafraid. He craves for someone, anyone, to challenge him that night. To try and get the best of him.
The crowd that gathers as everyone retires for the night is a blessing to his pursuer. Tazim keeps close to Gadiel and Nahir. Though, there is still no surprise when he is roughly pulled aside. He had been counting on it. The hold on his arm is strong and firm. Familiar in all the right ways as he's hauled away from the crowd of men.
Tazim almost laughs, he's being pressed closely to the stone walls aligning the fortress. He feels like a child. It's no surprise when Basilio finally does loosen his grip, though keeps his hand on Tazim's upper arm.
"I know what you are thinking," he warns with strict eyes, ignoring the now dissipating crowd, "Now, don't be a child, Tazim. You will only draw attention to yourself."
Tazim pulled away roughly, a nasty grin on his face, "Jealous?"
There was no knowing why he behaved in such a way. Whether it was the sensation of comradery among the men that night, or the witnessing of fresh blood being drawn before him in the ring, Tazim was being choked by euphoria.
Basilio pushes him once more, annoying Tazim further with his actions as well as his presence. "What is this you are becoming? A ridiculous act, if I ever witnessed one."
"No one asked for your opinion."
"Though you desperately need it."
They were alone. Two boys in the ruins of darkened times. Each with unyielding beliefs of their own. Basilio's hair had grown, still evidently knotted in prominent waves across his forehead. A soft, designated feature of his. His attempts of being valiant are put to rest with his faint demeanor.
Basilio couldn't hurt a fly.
The fact alone caused a rage unlike anything before to blossom within Tazim's chest. Perhaps his prior views were right after all. Tazim was fervent. Eager to fight. Eager, at last, to draw blood.
"Is that all?" Tazim finally asks after a moment, unimpressed, and most specifically, annoyed for having been taken from his friends.
Basilio is silent. His lack of back-talk is enough to make Tazim feel victorious. He moves aside, far enough to let the other boy briskly walk past. Neither dare look the other in the eye as Tazim leaves Basilio to his own.
It isn't long until he finds Nahir and Gadiel near the edge of the village, Kabir finally having joined them. Their meeting place, much like the nook Tazim and Basilio once trained in, is well hidden. Away from prying eyes, as they preferred. No one questions his absence, supposing Tazim only got lost with the crowd of men. They speak amongst themselves, commenting on the last fight in specific, and one of the races which ended with a man losing a tooth.
Together, the group of boy's revels over the night's affairs. Each one of them in an even better mood than the other. Though it doesn't take long for Nahir to herd them all into an equally vital topic at hand.
"We are all the sons of absent fathers." Nahir spoke, pushing his dark hair from his eyes. It was something he often did, moments before gifting them with a new lesson of life. A new perspective, as he once explained.
It was something about his words. Or perhaps something in the way he said them. The rumble of his voice, or the sway of his hands when speaking. No matter his speech, Nahir always knew what tone to use in order to grab the others' attention. He could commandeer and take control of an army if he tried hard enough, Tazim imagined.
"According to you," Gadiel scoffed, resting comfortably on the fresh grass.
"According to the facts," he snapped in return, "Where is your father, Tazim? And yours, Gadiel? Kabir?"
It was enough to humble each one of them. Gadiel lowered his gaze just for a moment, uncomfortable. It was Kabir, willing to please, who answered, side eyeing his two companions, "Absent."
Nahir shook his head, "Gone. They are gone. They never wanted us. We had nothing to offer them, and they wanted nothing to do with us. But here we are. We are becoming better men than they ever were."
As they spoke amongst each other, Tazim glanced at each of his new friends. Kabir, it was no surprise, studied Nahir with boyish eyes, full of wonder as he drunk up every word coming from the older boys mouth and begged for more. Beside him, sat Gadiel. Eagerly curious, the darkness of his eyes ever so prominent against his bronzed skin. Even he gazed at their speaker in awe.
"We will prove to be better."
He isn't exactly sure what made him speak such things next. It could have been any of the events that occurred the night. The sudden power flowing through his bloodstream, or the craving for passion. Somehow, the desire Tazim once had in his heart, the very fire that burned within his belly turned into anguish and resentment. A resentment, it seemed, that was only waiting to be brought to light. Waiting to be born.
"And dead fathers?" he raised his head slowly, waiting for an answer.
The others turned expectantly. Gadiel in particular, shifting his gaze from one boy to the other rather peculiarly, as if awaiting for a fight to break out. His features softened, along with the parting of his lips.
The other boy shook his head in defeat. Nahir, ever so brazen, never letting a simple question render him mute. It didn't take long for him to choose his words, "At the least death would cease any further embarrassment we may cause."
Their night ends quickly, soon after their talk. Nahir, always deemed the most responsible, urges them to sleep early in preparation for the next nights events. They would convey every ounce of supremacy they had above the others, Nahir would expect nothing less.
They split paths to not draw attention. Tazim is unfortunate enough to have Gadiel's company that night. Not that he cared as of late. Gadiel himself was calm enough with Tazim at his side. It was a welcomed change. Though, as they walk to their respective quarters together, Gadiel suddenly perks up. With no one around to judge them, he grew comfortable.
His words come as a surprise, almost as much as the way in which he says them, "Your father, he's dead."
It isn't a question as much as an affirmation. They all were the sons of absent fathers, dead or otherwise. But the tone of his voice, Gadiel does not belittle his new comrade. Instead, he searches for innocent information. He wants to know more of who he will fight alongside with.
"As is yours," Tazim responds loosely.
There's no denying the slight curve of his lips, "A similarity between us at last."
"More than you and your brother have."
They didn't speak for a few moments, Tazim never minded the silence. The only sound was that of the nearby creek, and their boots stalking through mud and wet grass. Tazim would have thought their short conversation had come to and end. Except, Gadiel held a firm expression on his face. One that Tazim grew familiar with.
He wore anger like a badge of honor. His personal declaration of growth, from a boy to a man.
"He died for Altair," Gadiel explained sourly, quickly adding, "Our father, Rafi's and I."
"I'm sorry?" No other words came to his mind, a severe mistake on Tazim's part.
Gadiel growled, grabbing Tazim's arm and pulling him to a full stop. He wanted the boys' full attention. His own stubbornness getting the best of him. His eyes bore into Tazim's own, full of purpose and disorderly irritation.
"Nahir is right," he pressed fervently, at last casting aside Tazim's arm, "They did not want us. My father would rather die for that old man than live for his son's. His own blood. Yours as well."
"You know nothing-"
"He had the men under his spell, Tazim! The cursed artifact! If it weren't for him, we would have led different lives. Have had families. No. They abandoned us, all of us. Rafi is blind. He may not follow my example, but I kept us alive." I stayed.
Just for a moment, everything swiftly made sense. Watching Gadiel now, the rage across his features, he seemed older. Much like his brother when Rafi confronted Tazim in his quarters. It was an instance in which the two at last looked like true brothers. The dip of their noses, prominent and strong, as well as the outline of their lips, and structure of their jaws.
It was impossible to look away. Had all that fury truly aged him?
There was a strange understanding between the two boys, basking in the open air. One of seclusion. Of abandonment.
"We will prove to be better," Tazim grasped Gadiel's shoulder, recalling Nahir's words from earlier in the night.
Gadiel only smiled. Though when he smiled, he held empty eyes, nothing like the kind, safe smiles Tazim had become accustomed to from Basilio. And yet nothing alike to his own brothers' timid smiles of a successful match. Gadiel was broken. He was just as torn apart as Tazim. There was a storm raging inside them both, trying its hardest to drown them. End their misery.
Maybe that wasn't a bad thing after all. Maybe they should let it.
Happy Happyyy New Year to all! Let's give a hopeful cheer for the future!
Questions or comments, feel free to leave them. Happy Holidays!