Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of a Mercenary ❯ Chapter 11
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: marriedmiko 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Martial Arts / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.06.2012 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 303 | Status: Completed
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Martial Arts / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.06.2012 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 303 | Status: Completed
Chapter 11
In the morning, the tension was still there. We cleaned up camp and started out on the highway without a single word between us. As we walked, Horiho would occasionally sigh heavily, and it began to wear on my nerves. Finally, after about the eighth sigh, I broke the silence.
“Ok, eventually we’re going to have to talk about it. Why did you think I was going to kill you?” I felt much better after having it out.
Horiho rubbed his hat a little and shifted the strap of his pack. “Well, it’s not that I don’t trust you personally, Tera, it’s just…”
“Is it because I’m Arjuni?” I wanted to keep this as blunt and short as possible.
Horiho looked me in the eye. “Yes. I was half awake, and seeing that curved blade over my head, I just lost it. It’s hard to forget something you’ve learned for long.”
My brow furrowed. “What is it that you learned?”
He sighed, and I just about smacked him upside the head. “Arjuni are dangerous.”
I frowned deeper. “Why?”
Horiho looked up at the sky and then closed his eyes. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Tera. I was hoping you would finish your story before we spoke of it, so I could be sure.”
“Sure of what?”
He shook his head. “I just…” he paused.
“If I tell you the rest of my story, will you tell me?”
“Yes,” he said, sounding relieved.
I passed my hands over my face. “Alright, I’ll tell you then.”
Horiho stopped and reached for his pack, but I stopped him with a hand on his. “Please,” I said quietly. “Don’t write this part down. If I say anything important, I’m sure you’ll remember it. Just don’t… don’t put in the details.”
He nodded. So it was that I told the last part of my story as we walked. Horiho stayed strangely quiet the whole time, not asking his usual questions. He seemed to understand that this was a deeply sensitive subject for me. To tell the truth, I originally planned not to tell him this part at all. But from the small amount of encounters I’d already had, I sensed there was something about my people I didn’t know. Something big.
When I was finished, Horiho was quiet for a long time. I tried not to be impatient, but having to go over the story again put me in a bad mood.
“So you really did kill more than 20 people in a half an hour,” he said vaguely.
I shook my head. “Something like that. I don’t really remember it that well.”
Horiho smoothed a hand over his mouth. “Did you ever wonder where the men went, when they left? Who they were fighting?”
I frowned. “They go out for supplies, things we can’t produce in the village. And they fight people who would attack our village.”
Horiho smiled a little. “I suppose that makes sense. But all the Arjuni live in the same small area, how could they produce anything different than your village?”
I shrugged. “Maybe one village is near a river, another near a mine, things like that.”
Horiho chuckled. “You always have an answer, Tera, I’ll give you that. Unfortunately it’s not the right answer.” He paused for a moment. “The word Arjuni is usually an adjective.” He held up a hand to still my question. “It’s a word that describes something. Like blue, or hot, or old.” I nodded my understanding. “When something is arjuni it means it’s fierce, savage, with a sort of mindless bloodlust. It’s used to describe animals, evil spirits, or people who have lost their minds.”
I drank that in for a moment. “Why?”
Horiho sighed. “Because the men who leave your village, and the other villages, go out and raid Gana villages. They indiscriminately kill anyone who gets in their way, women, children, elderly. They don’t rape—they have that in their favor—but even this seems to make them less human. They strip the dead of their possessions, and clean out whole villages of anything of value. If any village tries to take revenge, to make an offense on the Arjuni, the next time the village is raided they make sure to kill every last male—even the babies—so that no one can take revenge again. They are utterly and completely ruthless.”
I stopped walking. Horiho stopped and watched me carefully, as if I might lash out at him. I thought about it really hard. I remembered the men returning from missions, how they bragged how many men they killed. I wondered if they even counted women and children as a kill. It was all too much, and I thought I might be sick, like the world had suddenly tilted on its side, and I was scrabbling for a purchase.
Some part of my fighter’s training poked its way through the jumble of my brain. Unlock your knees, Tera, and then take a step. Does your knee hold? Yes. Then walk, it will make you feel better. And it did, since I lost the sense that the world was moving without me. Horiho trailed after me at a distance, not daring to say a word. When I could manage to string a coherent sentence together, I did.
“I’m not angry at you, Horiho. I just need… time… to think about this….” I said slowly.
“Of course!” Horiho sounded immensely relieved. He also sounded as if he was going to go on, but he only made a small noise before he thought better of it and kept silent. I was glad.
On the outside, it really did feel better to be walking, because I at least felt like I was accomplishing something. Inside the roiling mess of my mind, things were starting to take shape. All of the bother about keeping girls and boys separate suddenly made sense in a new way: it was just another way for the men to control the women. Because they weren’t warriors, they were cold-blooded killers. Why had I ever wanted to be a boy?
But doubt plagued my mind. It was hard to reconcile the images Horiho given me with the men I had known. I wasn’t all that familiar with my father, because while he was distant from all his daughters he rarely even acknowledged me after it was clear I wasn’t a boy, and before that he had often been… away…. I shuddered. And what about Tarnac? Surely one did not become the head of the boys’ instructors without some personal experience, and I had seen a number of scars on his arms and chest. How could this man, gentle but firm, fatherly yet friend-like, have savagely murdered whole villages just for profit?
I gave a sigh that even Horiho could have appreciated. The answer to my question had only brought dozens of more questions, and it was far less likely that he could answer these. The only people who could answer them were back in my village, and I was not going back there. Even if I hadn’t been exiled I didn’t think I could face them now that I knew their secret.
In the morning, the tension was still there. We cleaned up camp and started out on the highway without a single word between us. As we walked, Horiho would occasionally sigh heavily, and it began to wear on my nerves. Finally, after about the eighth sigh, I broke the silence.
“Ok, eventually we’re going to have to talk about it. Why did you think I was going to kill you?” I felt much better after having it out.
Horiho rubbed his hat a little and shifted the strap of his pack. “Well, it’s not that I don’t trust you personally, Tera, it’s just…”
“Is it because I’m Arjuni?” I wanted to keep this as blunt and short as possible.
Horiho looked me in the eye. “Yes. I was half awake, and seeing that curved blade over my head, I just lost it. It’s hard to forget something you’ve learned for long.”
My brow furrowed. “What is it that you learned?”
He sighed, and I just about smacked him upside the head. “Arjuni are dangerous.”
I frowned deeper. “Why?”
Horiho looked up at the sky and then closed his eyes. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Tera. I was hoping you would finish your story before we spoke of it, so I could be sure.”
“Sure of what?”
He shook his head. “I just…” he paused.
“If I tell you the rest of my story, will you tell me?”
“Yes,” he said, sounding relieved.
I passed my hands over my face. “Alright, I’ll tell you then.”
Horiho stopped and reached for his pack, but I stopped him with a hand on his. “Please,” I said quietly. “Don’t write this part down. If I say anything important, I’m sure you’ll remember it. Just don’t… don’t put in the details.”
He nodded. So it was that I told the last part of my story as we walked. Horiho stayed strangely quiet the whole time, not asking his usual questions. He seemed to understand that this was a deeply sensitive subject for me. To tell the truth, I originally planned not to tell him this part at all. But from the small amount of encounters I’d already had, I sensed there was something about my people I didn’t know. Something big.
When I was finished, Horiho was quiet for a long time. I tried not to be impatient, but having to go over the story again put me in a bad mood.
“So you really did kill more than 20 people in a half an hour,” he said vaguely.
I shook my head. “Something like that. I don’t really remember it that well.”
Horiho smoothed a hand over his mouth. “Did you ever wonder where the men went, when they left? Who they were fighting?”
I frowned. “They go out for supplies, things we can’t produce in the village. And they fight people who would attack our village.”
Horiho smiled a little. “I suppose that makes sense. But all the Arjuni live in the same small area, how could they produce anything different than your village?”
I shrugged. “Maybe one village is near a river, another near a mine, things like that.”
Horiho chuckled. “You always have an answer, Tera, I’ll give you that. Unfortunately it’s not the right answer.” He paused for a moment. “The word Arjuni is usually an adjective.” He held up a hand to still my question. “It’s a word that describes something. Like blue, or hot, or old.” I nodded my understanding. “When something is arjuni it means it’s fierce, savage, with a sort of mindless bloodlust. It’s used to describe animals, evil spirits, or people who have lost their minds.”
I drank that in for a moment. “Why?”
Horiho sighed. “Because the men who leave your village, and the other villages, go out and raid Gana villages. They indiscriminately kill anyone who gets in their way, women, children, elderly. They don’t rape—they have that in their favor—but even this seems to make them less human. They strip the dead of their possessions, and clean out whole villages of anything of value. If any village tries to take revenge, to make an offense on the Arjuni, the next time the village is raided they make sure to kill every last male—even the babies—so that no one can take revenge again. They are utterly and completely ruthless.”
I stopped walking. Horiho stopped and watched me carefully, as if I might lash out at him. I thought about it really hard. I remembered the men returning from missions, how they bragged how many men they killed. I wondered if they even counted women and children as a kill. It was all too much, and I thought I might be sick, like the world had suddenly tilted on its side, and I was scrabbling for a purchase.
Some part of my fighter’s training poked its way through the jumble of my brain. Unlock your knees, Tera, and then take a step. Does your knee hold? Yes. Then walk, it will make you feel better. And it did, since I lost the sense that the world was moving without me. Horiho trailed after me at a distance, not daring to say a word. When I could manage to string a coherent sentence together, I did.
“I’m not angry at you, Horiho. I just need… time… to think about this….” I said slowly.
“Of course!” Horiho sounded immensely relieved. He also sounded as if he was going to go on, but he only made a small noise before he thought better of it and kept silent. I was glad.
On the outside, it really did feel better to be walking, because I at least felt like I was accomplishing something. Inside the roiling mess of my mind, things were starting to take shape. All of the bother about keeping girls and boys separate suddenly made sense in a new way: it was just another way for the men to control the women. Because they weren’t warriors, they were cold-blooded killers. Why had I ever wanted to be a boy?
But doubt plagued my mind. It was hard to reconcile the images Horiho given me with the men I had known. I wasn’t all that familiar with my father, because while he was distant from all his daughters he rarely even acknowledged me after it was clear I wasn’t a boy, and before that he had often been… away…. I shuddered. And what about Tarnac? Surely one did not become the head of the boys’ instructors without some personal experience, and I had seen a number of scars on his arms and chest. How could this man, gentle but firm, fatherly yet friend-like, have savagely murdered whole villages just for profit?
I gave a sigh that even Horiho could have appreciated. The answer to my question had only brought dozens of more questions, and it was far less likely that he could answer these. The only people who could answer them were back in my village, and I was not going back there. Even if I hadn’t been exiled I didn’t think I could face them now that I knew their secret.