This story can be found on AO3 as well under the same name, which sometimes it will include more notes such as a playlist for example. I couldn't add it here because for some odd reason it won't work. Anyway, hope you enjoy this next chapter!
Tazim walks through the cold halls, dragging his feet and feeling sick at the idea of breakfast.
He was unable to sleep the previous night. The world was far too silent for him. Birds faintly chirping in the distance had steadily melted into the heavy drop of a body on dirt. The sounds of gurgling blood, in desperate attempts to draw breath, replayed in his mind.
Though Tazim forced himself out of bed at an earlier hour than usual that morning, he felt drained from the previous night. Evidently surrendering to dressing himself and washing his face with cold water to mask the stain of past tears. At least now he would get the first servings of their morning meal. Except, he knew he wouldn't eat. Not without the risk of spitting it up right after.
He walks with his cowl up and his head low, unable to look any of the passing men in the eye.
Tazim feels like death itself, and it would only get worse.
He decides to go through a rear hallway, wanting to avoid as much socialization as possible. He recalls the hall being dark and quiet, always empty, with only the distant echoes of the kitchen and dining area traveling through the it. The louder the voices grew, the more putrid would Tazim feel.
No sooner does he reach the doorway, that his head is roughly slammed against the stone wall beside him.
Cursing and twisting to slap the hand away from his cheek, Tazim prepares for a brawl. Before him, Nahir stands, his nostrils flared as he wipes the obtained sweat from his hand on Tazim's clothes.
"Never question me in front of anyone, ever again," he then warns, suddenly gripping Tazim's shoulder and digging his nails into it, "Understood?"
The way in which his eyes bore into Tazim's, it was a miracle he wasn't injured further. A broken arm or nose to get Nahir's point across. A warning. It was suitable.
"Let go!" Tazim barks, forcefully pushing the other boy away and wipes at his scratched cheek.
The last person Tazim wanted to see that day just had to be the very first to speak to him. Nahir does not seem bothered. Unlike Tazim, Nahir lacks dark circles under his eyes which only serves in disgusting him more. Had this boy no remorse?
No, instead he worries over a different topic altogether.
"You're rebelling. Questioning our ways. Why now of all times?" Nahir's voice has turned. Suddenly calmer, yet no less firm and demanding. Tazim wondered if those in the kitchen or dining area would somehow hear them.
If they could, would he even really care?
"It wasn't right."
There was nothing respectful or kind in the way last night's fight had happened. In the very way the boy's dead body had been avoided by many at first, who were too shocked to even comprehend the very scene happening before them. Some from farther away had even cheered in respect to a successful match. It was sickening.
The men had at last witnessed death. The thought alone should make them recoil and hide away in shame, yet it left no mark. The nameless boy was just that. A dead boy with no name to his face.
"Oh, shut up, Tazim," scoffing, Nahir took a step back. He flung his hands around exasperatedly, composing his next words. Turning on his foot, he prods a finger to Tazim's chest, "Who are we to question right from wrong? We are foot soldiers. Stop being a child."
If he'd stayed any longer, Tazim is sure Nahir may have punched him and the two could have wrestled into the ground until someone had found them. Who knows, perhaps the anger Nahir held could have been enough to put an end to Tazim then and there. He would have deserved it.
No one would know of it. His death. Hidden in a forgotten hallway near the edge of the castle.
But they don't brawl that morning. Instead, Nahir has enough composure and understanding within himself to stalk away immediately.
Tazim isn't as keen to letting their dispute end with the other boy thinking he'd won. Thinking Tazim was just another foolish, insecure boy with a knife. He follows closely behind, rage filling his vision. He reaches Nahir only once he has caught up with Gadiel outdoors, Tazim shouts at them both, "There's no sport in killing!"
It was just their luck that no one else was nearby. A vacant area at the edge of their home had its advantages.
This time, it's Gadiel who answers, immediately insulted and looked almost pleased about it. He squints at Tazim, the most sinister grin spreading across his lips like a growing challenge. His eyes somehow grow darker, and the fire Tazim grew familiar with was now a blazing storm, "Everything is a sport, Tazim. Don't you see it?"
They couldn't possibly be serious.
Nahir growls, annoyed, "Come."
"What-"
He doesn't wait for an answer. Tazim is harshly yanked by his cowl, roughly dragged like a misbehaving child. He's never been so embarrassed. Squirming and attempting to remove Nahir's hand only causes the boy to strengthen his grip. The anger is evident. With only his hand over Nahir's for balance, Tazim stumbles over his own feet, swearing and trying his best not to fall over every few steps.
The stares and laughs being sent their way by the other men as they walk through the grounds only further angers and mortifies Tazim. He curses and claws at Nahir's grip, but Gadiel is quick to lend a second pair of hands for his abduction, holding Tazim's own arms firmly in place and pulling him along.
They bring him forth to a shady clearing, overlooking the village below. Nahir shoves him into the dirt and Gadiel slaps on his arm for immediate attention. Much the slave, Gadiel would do anything for a sliver of conflict.
"You see that man?" Nahir explains, kneeling and motioning with a wave of his hand. He points out a lone man eating an apple below them, and swiftly acquires a throwing knife from his robes, "Strike him down."
"What?" Tazim answered, skeptically. He's pulling the grass from his mouth and wiping clean the dirt over his chin from being tossed like a doll. They are far enough that no one can hear them or immediately spot them, but still he felt the need to be cautious.
"Do it," Nahir shoves the blade into the boy's clammy hands, instantly taking a step back and crossing his arms, "Show me you can. Use your skills, Tazim."
Standing below was the man, not much older than even they. Perhaps a young father or someone's brother. Bothering no one as he rested under a shady tree enjoying his morning treat. Somehow, he reminded Tazim of Rahim back home. Innocent in the most naïve of ways. How would Tazim have felt if he were home and suddenly told his cousin had been aimlessly killed by an unknown assassin?
Tazim sneered. Turning to growl in disapproval, "No. I have nothing to prove to you."
Basilio's words bleeding from his own mouth. Not long ago, Tazim would have curled away in disgust. Now he at last realized the truth in the words. It pained him to think such things.
Before him, Nahir and Gadiel shrunk away in equal levels of revulsion. In particular, Gadiel looked as though he wanted to hit Tazim right then. Both having thought the exam same as he had when speaking his mind.
"You sound like the mutt. Useless and weak." Nahir growled with resentment. He roughly took the blade from Tazim's hand, nearly slicing his palm as he did, and turned, "Gadiel, show him how it's done."
He may hide it well, but Tazim easily noticed the hesitation behind Gadiel's eyes before forcefully taking the blade. His grasp on the handle was delicate and flimsy, his pinky finger lifting just the slightest to reveal his uncertainty.
Having noticed Tazim's studious gaze, Gadiel firmly took the blade in his opposite hand and eyed both his companions dangerously.
"I'm no mutt," he mocked before finding a more level viewpoint.
Just as he changed his stance, preparing for a strike, Tazim waited for Nahir to call it all off, his eyes going back and forth between the two. Waiting for him to admit this to be nothing but a foolish stunt among them.
Except he never did.
Gadiel was never given the proper chance to move his hand, let alone his entire arm, before Tazim jumped forward. Unconsciously slapping the knife away, cutting Gadiel's palm, and pushing hard enough to send him a few steps back. Tazim eagerly commanded, "No! Stop it!"
Heavy fists hit the back of his shoulders, equally angry. Nahir challenged, "You wouldn't dare strike this man, but you would attack your own brothers?"
Taken aback, though not yet ready to let down his guard, Tazim steps aside. Away from his so-called comrades, he thinks over his options carefully. They really were all boys. Boys dressed in men's weaponry, carrying men's anger. A dangerous mix.
He was angry. No one could take that from him.
"You kill so easily," Tazim snarled frustratingly, "Would you give us the same fate if the occasion called for it?"
"The weak will never survive," Nahir argued.
Turning his attention to Gadiel who's hand was now stained in blood, Tazim preached in hopes of convincing him at the very least, "Nahir killed a boy! No older, than Rafi, Gadiel! We have no right to choose who lives or dies."
Nahir, the boy who undoubtedly played the miscarried part of a man. He was nothing but a dreamer. A child making up fantasies of what could be. The one who lived only for the death of others. Tazim had been a fool.
With his hand cut, Gadiel held it in a fist close to his chest. Equally despondent, it was surprising that he kept quiet, avoiding Tazim's words. Nahir stood close beside him, the gaze of a devil in his eyes, "I'll go for the mutt. Whether you wish to follow is your choice. Our commitments are done."
Departing, he left Tazim alone with Gadiel, a strange veil cast over them. One of suppressed faith. Looking at him now, Tazim could capture the remaining crumbs of Rafi in his brother's face. His demeanor was that of a hopeless boy, grasping to the thread of courage. Neither dared to look completely at the other, both equally uncertain.
Feigning a moment of boldness as he often did, Gadiel straightens. Whatever doubt was on his face a second ago was now gone, replaced by a more familiar glare. No matter his minor injury, Gadiel's robes had been stained as he held his hand delicately close. Still so careful. Still so angry. The manner of which Gadiel scrutinized him, Tazim felt like a rodent. One of which should be killed immediately.
"You tread harsh grounds," Gadiel explained after realizing Tazim would say nothing. He had done nothing wrong. He had not killed. Though he was at fault, just the same. Carefully searching his robes with one hand, he brought forth the same blade he took from Tazim at the start of the games and offered it, "Though, there may yet be hope for you, Tazim."
Cautiously, he accepts, "Speak sense, Gadiel."
"We've come to an end, agreed. But just the same, prove yourself for your own safety in the future." A warning in his own manner of speaking. Prove to Nahir he is not a weakling to be pushed and hassled once their trivial competition was over. A minor way to ensure his safety for some time. A friendly offer of advice. "He'll go for the mutt next, if only just to anger you."
Of course, he would.
Having said all he needed to, Gadiel turn to leave. The slightest hint of desolation in the sway of his shoulders as he went. Then again, it may just have been the way he was.
"Rafi was wrong."
At the mention of his brother, Gadiel stops. He half-heartedly turns his attention back. He isn't angry as he normally would be when his brother became topic of conversation. Instead, his eyes lifted in a sense of curiosity.
With a sincere nod of understanding, Tazim explains, "You aren't as cruel as you think you are, Gadiel."
Scoffing and walking off again, Gadiel calls back, "Get on with it, mutt."
That afternoon, Tazim went in search of the two. Not very difficult to find in the first place, Gadiel and Nahir were on their way to that day's area of entertainment. A sort of parting gift it seemed, at least to Tazim. Neither welcomed him in a violent manner, though the anger and resentment lingered.
"Swimming?" Tazim questioned once they neared the designated area.
Often, he and Basilio visited a far-off creek on the hottest summer days. It is where Basilio himself taught Tazim to swim in the midst of their training.
Gadiel had previously explained it was one of the more fun trials. Seeing that so many of the men who participated often fought against the water itself, rather than their fellow opponents. It was hardly a miracle to find the area at all. A hidden body of water, cozily tucked beneath the castle itself.
Though it was nothing like the swimming hole he and Basilio ventured to during the summer, it fit their agenda perfectly. Large enough for a handful of men to enter and deep enough for their given trials.
"It isn't very deep to begin with," Gadiel explains annoyingly, picking at his bandaged hand, "Grab your marker as quickly as you can and return, no point to it really."
Looking to the horizon, Tazim commented wearily, "It's nearly sundown."
Gadiel hits his arm, "Nonsense. Now prepare."
Keeping as much distance so as to not tip off Nahir, Gadiel coaches Tazim on what little information he knows about his upcoming challenge while Tazim partly undresses. Annoyingly, Nahir stands at the side. Casting irritated glances before making his thoughts known.
"One will return. You or the mutt, the beatings make no difference to me," Nahir lets out a dry chuckle, "A part of me hopes it's him who returns to us instead."
All Tazim can do is nod, coldly, and hope it is enough to hide his worry.
"Get on with it then."
The setting sun beats down harshly against the men's bare backs, only just peaking across the horizon and licking their already cooked skin as they all stand far apart. Tazim makes his way, in search of his old friend. Luckily, he isn't very difficult to find.
Nearby, Basilio is preparing for their race, stretching his arms and relieving himself of burdensome clothes just as the others had. His shoulders and arms, much like the others, lay decorated in an array of scars in different sizes, like wet grass sticking to his skin in the summer.
His already tanned skin has darkened, becoming pink and sticky especially across his face and neck due to that days' heat. The oddity itself was something Tazim always found humorous. Basilio turned pink in the summer sun. Not red, as most of the others would, but pink. It had been as such since he was a small boy, Basilio had mentioned before.
His hair, Tazim notices from afar, has been dramatically shortened. It's been crudely cut with some uneven slashes near the base of his neck and behind his ears. It's as short as he's ever had which only serves to enhance the resentment that Basilio had been displaying lately. He looks less so like the Spanish boy Tazim had grown to know. His fathers' rougher features finally in display, as opposed to his Spanish mother's softened smiles, as Basilio said once long ago.
Tazim can't help but wonder if he was the reason behind the sudden change.
Though there was no time to ponder. As he rushed to Basilio's side, Tazim could only hope in secret that the other boy would not strike him down where he stood.
He walks and calls for Basilio, but the other boy ignores him. It's only once Tazim stands beside him, that the boy faintly gazes in his direction. If he hadn't been so prideful, Tazim may have been hurt by the action. His voice falters the slightest bit as he speaks, "Basilio, I need to warn you. It's Nahir."
Basilio crudely chuckles in response.
He lets his eyes wander across Tazim, contemplating his next move. Observing Tazim's equally bruised and scarred torso, Basilio scoffs. Running a hand across his short hair, sweat drops fly from it and he mutters, "You decide only now to come to me. Pathetic."
Whether Nahir and Gadiel watched him, Tazim cared little in that moment.
"It's painful. Who I once called my most trusted friend," Tazim explained ruefully, "is now a stranger I can hardly look in the eye."
There is little Basilio does to soften the words. He rolls his eyes at the acknowledgment, "Your words mean nothing to me."
The two boys tread nearby the edge of the water where the other men have gathered, prepared for the race to begin and patiently wait for its initiation. Basilio kneels down enough to touch its surface, the ghost of a smile only just grazing his lips before quickly disappearing.
"Basilio, please," Tazim urges. Taking a step forward, he grabs hold of the other boys' shoulder, pleading for attention.
Basilio turns, staring deeply into his eyes. Challenging almost. Asking for some kind of scuffle to break out, or even possibly a late apology from Tazim. It's in the dullness of his eyes that Tazim grows fearful. The small, barely-there scars and freckles scattered across his face and shoulders may be a familiar, friendly sight, but the deathly glare before him belonged to a complete stranger.
"There is nothing you can say," Basilio explains dangerously, "That will change what you've become."
When the race begins, Tazim is pulled into the water by the same hand that once offered security. Though, this time it was not to soothe, but to disable completely. Water having washed up his nose, Tazim resurfaces and finds his bearings. Through blurry vision, he picks at which far off bundle of limbs in the water is Basilio and gives chase.
Hesitation, already he was failing.
It isn't an easy task to reach Basilio, though. Once he does, Tazim does his best to keep up. Already his arms feel like fire, his past injury only made it more difficult. Always just a few seconds behind the other boy, so close yet he may as well be entire oceans apart from him.
Tazim chokes on water and his own spit as he unconsciously yells his friend's name.
Whether Basilio can hear his name being called over the water hitting his ears and the strokes of his arms, he ignored them anyway. Pushing that idiotic voice as far back as possible. Focusing only on his movements. His mind sending him back to the innocent swimming games of his childhood.
Now there was only him.
"Murderer!" Basilio spits out furiously.
Just as Basilio reached the end of their designated area, near their turning point, the warm grasp of something heavy wrapped around his leg and pulled. Quickly glancing back without stopping, it was none other than a sloppy Tazim holding on tightly to his ankle. Both arms holding firm as he bared his teeth.
Hair sticking to his face and blocking most of his vision, Tazim dug his nails into soft flesh for a better hold, "Listen to me, please!"
"Shut up!" Basilio barked in response before violently kicking Tazim. Once to his grasped hands, the second kick to his chin, and using the same force to propel himself in the opposite direction, retreating to their starting positions. Eagerly relishing in the thought of being the day's winner.
Under different circumstances, Basilio would have been proud. He would have even cheered on Tazim, who had finally let his more beastly side free in a fight. Though when he feels arms wrap around his abdomen and pull him back, Basilio curses. He thrusts his elbow into empty water. Once he finds Tazim's face, Basilio lets out jab after jab, relentlessly.
How could such a close-minded boy be so stubborn?
Tazim coughs from the blood and water collecting in his mouth, nearly begging as he shouts into his friends' ear, "Calm! Down!"
They wrestle in the water for some time, Basilio having the obvious upper hand due to his experience. The most Tazim could do was keep a tight hold on the boys' torso and withstand the hits against his face and body. That in itself was a challenge, given the slickness of the water and the immediate ringing of his ears with each punch.
Tazim's throat tightened; water blossomed into his mouth with an especially harsh elbow to his jaw. Shutting his eyes, his left hand came to cover his mouth while the other kept grasping on Basilio, his grip actively losing strength.
It was like a bird was caged in the pit of his stomach and was trying to escape. Pumping the air from his lungs and clawing at the walls of his abdomen for his failure. Pecking and eating away at his insides over his betrayal. Tazim was completely torn up. He felt sick. He felt like a weak child, his fingertips only just barely brushing against the light of a life not yet lived.
A solid hit to his nostrils is what sends Tazim reeling. His hold on Basilio goes limp and he feels like he's falling. Tazim feels like he could fall right off the edge of the earth if he tried hard enough. He couldn't pretend and say it isn't what he deserved.
"If I were you, I'd drop everything and run. Just run."
He couldn't possibly have meant it. Not him. Not his Basilio.
Of course, he did.
The taste of blood and water was bitter and cold. It was dark. Poisonous in ways only Tazim could savor.
As he flails his arms, searching for balance and a taste of air, Tazim doesn't know up from down. His vision is blurred, and the ringing of his ears turns into a distinctive buzz of emptiness.
Should he drown and end his journey in that moment, Tazim would not feel regret. He would at least pay for his wrongdoings. He would at last meet his father. Be granted the answers he so desperately wanted. Needed.
A warm arm slithering around his shoulders pulls him from such thoughts and begins dragging him through the frigid water. Tazim is choking, his hands impulsively going to the arm now curling over his chest and neck.
No. Just let me go.
When Tazim's back hits solid ground, he feels like he's been reborn. The slap of his shoulders hitting the mud and sand hurts more than the burning within his chest. Violently coughing out the blood and leftover water aside, Tazim catches sight of Basilio beside him.
Covered in fresh scratches, bleeding red, across his chest and neck, Basilio sits on his heels, catching his breath. He ignores the shouts and cheers from the other men, still waiting on the rest of their companions. The coolness of the darkening sky sat behind him, covering Basilio's drenched body in an aura of misery.
The same boy who wished him dead was still the one who saved him, Tazim found it ironic.
Still voiceless, Tazim gags on the belching feeling in the back of his throat. He wipes his mouth, cleaning it from the blood and spit
"I'm sorry!" Tazim cries through a hiccup. If he could, Tazim is sure he may have crawled the short distance and begged forgiveness right on Basilio's legs. He wasn't completely sure whether he apologized over their race, or for everything that has happened even before it.
It seemed Basilio wasn't sure either.
Curling his lips in a displeased manner, Basilio stood, wobbling slightly as he did. The scratches on his skin stretched with his heavy movements. Once at his full height, Basilio reached into his pocket, quite vexatiously before pulling something out. He wipes the filth from his face before flinging a drenched, soiled white rag down at Tazim's feet.
A solid win.
"False victim," Basilio snarls before turning to leave. Before he gets too far, he stops, debating his next words. Inevitably, he decides the small jab of pain will be worth it. He calls over his shoulder, displeased, "Act stupid again, Tazim, and you're a dead man."
Basilio gazes in the opposite direction, toward two figures within the crowd of men. Hidden yet no less dangerous. Nahir is first to clash eyes with him, then Gadiel. All of which held the same veil of anger over their faces.
Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Basilio stalks away, disappearing into the shadows of the night. A part of Tazim wished the boy would have stayed. Maybe even talked to him or continued cursing at him. Whether it was to scream at his face or offer comfort, it no longer mattered. Just as long as he stayed at Tazim's side.
Instead, Gadiel and Nahir were present. They stood far off, not having moved even one step from moments before. Both wore identical looks of hatred and disappointment. A glimpse of sorrow fell across Gadiel, one he masked quickly. Gazing across the land at Tazim's miserable wet form. Not bothering to give him a second glance, they leave him to his own. Abandon him where he lay defeated.
Tazim was always a dead man, only now what to do with the time he had left?
Friends I am tired. But also very stubborn and I refuse to leave this story unfinished because who else but me to continue this fun adventure? Stay safe! Have a nice day/night!