4
Ch. 6 Revenge
In a cabin hidden beneath the ice of the Strommin Mountains, a teenage apprentice wipes the deep blood from a fresh blade. He watched his master step back into the room, with his cloak and helmet newly removed. "Hurry it up boy! You have more chores to finish. Oh, and when your done, my boots could use a shine," the snobby teacher taunted.
"Yes, master," the boy said in humble reply. He placed the scarlet rag into a glass bucket with a gold rim, then he retook the white cloth from the still, pure water. He dropped to his knees and began wiping the filth from the leather shoes, and when he was done. He went to clean the other magical artifacts in the small house.
Jeriah was just a young child when his master brought the child to the cavern, no older than three.
First was a crystal star; master Hayate once used it to absorb energy. After was the Ruby Gauntlet which forms force fields that protects the user from harm. And last, the Staff of Light powers the user ten fold his natural strength.
Of course, Jeriah was never to touch any of these items, with the exception of cleaning, otherwise a stern punishment would be initiated; although he should be used to a daily beating.
If only he had powers like his younger brother. That's why his parents gave him to Hayate that day. His father, Sampson, was the son of a bandit, who stole powers; so naturally, he inherited Kaiomi traits, his was to sence the powers of others. This is how he knew. His first born son, Jeriah, when he was born had no aurora, for the father to see, but Sampson was convinced to keep this unwanted baby. That is until his second son came, who did have special abilities. So just following the naming of the newborn, Jeriah was left in the frozen rain, in the emptied streets.
Thankfully, master Hayate found him and carried his limp, cold, scratched up body to the mountained caves outside the city. Sometime he wishes he was left in the cold to die rather than be whipped each day for simple mistakes. He hated his parents for what they had done. He despised his talented brother. But most of all, he loathed his master with a fear none could comprehend.
Jeriah, in a cloud of daydreaming, dropped the orb, and chipped the edge. Of course, Master was there watching. "Do you realized what you have just done? You could have just destroyed one of the most powerful and priceless orbs to ever arise in all time." The angry Hayate checked to see if it still worked. "For payment, you'll take forty lashes each day for a month plus what you earn between now and then!"
Jeriah could already feel the sting of his master's whip. Hayate stomped to the boy, tied his arms to the chains above, and lifted the boy's shirt to reveal the multitude of scars form past beatings. Master drew form the cabinet the leather whip, with the thin hooks at the end, so that for each strike, he would not only feel the sting of the leather but also the ripping of his skin when he pulled back. The uncivilized man beat the teen with a cruel wrath slowly, with space in between each strike, this was to prolong the pain, that the boy suffered through. Again he'd strike, then listen for the cry of anguish he so longed for. Again he repeated until the boy finally passed out from shock. The "teacher" replaced his whip in the closet. Torture was only enjoyable if one could watch his victim suffer. "Maybe next time he'll learn. He can clean the stains in the morning." He loosened the chains and the limp male crashed to the dripping floorboards. The dissatisfied master left the room in unfulfillment.
After a few brief hours, the boy coughed blood, and began to weep, for what would be what he hoped would be the last time. He spent a small number of hours, working to push himself from the drying floor. Once he summoned forth the strength he needed, the enraged male with fiery rage in his hazel eyes. This gaze seemed no longer human. Jeriah went to the cabinet where his master kept his weapon of punishment, drew it along with the chains, and left the darkened room.
He crept down the hallway without making a bantam of disquietude, slowly broke the lock on the door, crept to where his unregreting master slept with a blank face. The teen slowly and quietly chained the unconscious soon-corps to the wooden bedpost. A chill from the metallic bonds, suddenly woke the unsuspecting victim. The master looked at his apprentice, "What have you done? Release me from these…" But before he could finish, a thorn shoved into his body and retracted. The middle aged man yelped with a banshee scream. And the figure standing in the dark with his demonic eyes repaid the charges that Hayate had placed on the inhuman boy over so many painful and dreaded years. Each yelled satisfied a little of his eternal rage. He thrashed his antagonist repetitively long after the dead stopped screeching.
The scared boy who was lowest of lowest, retook his satisfaction. Jeriah was no longer scared. He was no longer furious, at his master that is. There were a couple more he was going to get even with first. So he left the life of fear and headed for the life of revenge. He had and ran out of the cabin, taking the gauntlet, staff, and orb he could now take without fear.
He went down the mountain to the village below. Then walked to the familiar house he once loved and crawled into the bedroom. He drew the kunai he had stolen from one of the guards he had killed on his way in and jolted it into the two lumps in the hay bed, whose sheets changed color as it let out a cry or two.
One more now and his revenge would be complete he moved swiftly to the room down the hall where breathing could be heard from a small voice. Jeriah knew that the breathing was no longer aloud.
He thought for a moment, why was the death of his master so much more satisfying then that of his wretched parents. Surly he hated his parents more for causing his living with Hayate. So what could be different? He curiously wondered as he crept closer to the twelve year old. Then it hit him, he made his master suffer first but had just rid himself of his parents. He new what he must do to ensure his pleasure and retain his sanity. He must make this boy, who ultimately caused his pain, suffer, but only for a brief moment.
Jeriah raised his blade high, aiming for the boy's wrist, to nail him to the post, and released his energy. The kunai hit the bed post, and the boy awoke, with no wound. Jeriah was overwhelmed with shock, as the blade didn't touch the enemy but simply went through him. The preteen yelped and ran through his adversary and the door and vanished.
The antagonist desperately searched for his prey, but found nothing as he tore the house apart. Suddenly chattering could be heard from outside. So the furious young man left swearing to prolong his revenge, painfully and prolonged.
The twelve year old reappeared in the bedroom where his loved ones lay. The boy remained silenced, and the small orphan named Koon was forever traumatized, along with his elder bother, which was no longer angry but insane. And one day one or the other would claim his revenge, one last time.