Chapter 10: The Price of Power - Part 4

This was his seventh lift – or sixth in the eyes of Dominus, given the one that didn't count – and it was more than obvious that the boy was reaching his limit. He tore off his shirt, somehow hoping that the reintroduction of cool air would spur on his strength, if only a little, and he gripped the stone as tightly as he could, aiming to rip it off the floor even faster than the last.

But the stones were growing slick and his hands were growing tired. They were already damp and slippery from the morning dew drops that had coated the ground around them, and that wet only coated the stone more each time he lifted it. It was no longer just a matter of picking it up, but a struggle of merely getting hold of it.

He lifted it halfway up his shin before it slipped out of his hands and he dropped it.

"What are you doing?" Dominus said, raising his voice. "Lift it, I said! Lift! Are you dull? Do you have no worth to you at all? Lift the damn stone, boy!"

Beam was so tired he could barely see straight. His normal thinking voice was entirely silent. He didn't have the energy for it. His breaths came in rapid gasps and his legs were shaking. But he didn't want to quit. He didn't know why he didn't want to quit. The task was meaningless. There was no merit in accomplishing it. There would be no prize, nothing at all. But still, he didn't want to lose. He didn't want to fail. He hated that more than anything else.

"LIFT IT!" Dominus roared. And finally, Beam's anger kicked in, roaring out of the depths of his tired soul, reigniting his muscles with just barely the amount of energy they needed, allowing him to tear the stone from the ground with a new speed, and allowing him to lock it out at his chest almost confidently.

Dominus nodded in approval. "Again," he said without a shred of mercy.

And again Beam tried. And again Beam struggled. Again, he had to draw upon everything his soul had. Everything that his body lacked. He had to beg it for another go, another spin of the needle.

He managed it, but only barely. That was seven.

He was swaying from side to side as he stood, attempting to catch his breath. He rubbed his nose, half expecting blood to start pouring down from it. Never in his life had he pushed his body so hard.

"Tsch, so that's all you're worth then," Dominus said, turning away, heading back towards his hut, snatching Beam's cup with him. "I thought there was more to you than that."

But his words didn't reach Beam. He was in his own world at this point. Oxygen-starved, and reckless. He eyed that stone as though it was his worst enemy. He couldn't let it sit there, unlifted. He didn't know why, not anymore, he'd ceased to think – but he was damn well sure that he would lift it.

"GAHHH!" He cried out as he lifted the stone again, his whole body trembling an alarming amount as he desperately tried to get it once more to his knees.

Dominus felt the ripple of something menacing burn through the air. The ripple of that which all knights knew to slay. His hand found its way to the hilt of his sword on instinct.

Dominus paused and looked back over his shoulder, just in time to see Beam make it to the first checkpoint, allowing the stone to rest a moment in his lap. And from there he took a deep breath, one that seemed to contain his very life force, and he lifted it once more, all the way to the finish line.

As he let the stone go, having completed the lift, it was a wonder to Dominus that he was still standing. He saw him swaying from side to side, his eyes open, yet seeing nothing. And then the short boy of a mere fifteen years scooped down to pick up the stone once more.

A hand gripped Beam by the shoulder. He turned around in shock, having apparently not heard Dominus' approach. "That'll do lad," he said.

Dominus observed him carefully. Despite the chill that had run through the air, the boy had not lost to the curse. The only sign that something had happened was those sparkling golden flecks spinning around in his eyes.

"But… I haven't finished yet," Beam said, with a clear hint of anxiousness.

"You sure hate losing, don't you lad?" Dominus said suddenly, squinting at him.

Beam nodded slowly, recalling the events of the last few days. "I guess I do…"

"That's a trait I like, you know. You've got a couple of traits that I'm a fan of. That righteous anger you get when you're close to failing something, and how depressed you get after failing it. Those are good qualities. 'Specially if you're ambitious, which you seem to be."

Beam listened to Dominus as he spoke, a frown on his face. "Why are you doing this?" He asked. "I get the feeling that you're being nice to me, even though you're making me do all these dumb things. I lost the bet, didn't I? You've got no reason to be showing me goodwill."

There was a slight pang in the old knight's heart as he saw the jaded distrust on the face of one so young. It was clear the boy had had his fair share of suffering, and far too early at that. It was a painful sight to see.

"Don't think too deeply about it," Dominus said, hiding his true feelings. "I'm just testing to see whether you're worth keeping alive or not. You're trash, at the moment, after all."

"At the moment?" Beam repeated. He'd grown so used to being called trash over the last two days that the addition of the words caught his attention. But Dominus was already up and walking away, pretending he didn't hear that last comment.

Beam forced himself after him, still struggling to catch his breath, his whole body aching and his head dizzy. "By the way, I've gotten stronger, haven't I? Two days ago I wouldn't have even been able to do three lifts of that stone and today I got eight."

"That's just the nature of a beginner's progress," Dominus said, as they left his house behind.

comment 3 comment

Vote

SEND GIFT

next chapter

Load failed, please RETRY