Chapter 10

Kieran quietly watched the sword match through a crack in the door.  He was watching his newfound acquaintances spar with long wooden staves.  Leukos lunged toward the young boy, attempting to spear him in the chest.  Stavvo batted the attack away and jumped to the side.

“What the hell is going on here?” whispered Kieran.  “The old man isn’t bad!”  The two continued their match, unaware they were being watched.  Leukos advanced, keeping tempo, while Stavvo withdrew.  Eventually, they had battled to a part of the room that Kieran couldn’t see.  Unable to help himself, he opened the door and entered, and while the two combatants continued on, focus undeterred.

The pace of their movements increased.  Finally, Leukos took a big swing and missed Stavvo.  The boy smirked, charging at his elder with full force.  Kieran held his breath in excitement.  Just before impact, Leukos poked his staff backwards, poking Stavvo violently in the gut, all while facing the opposite direction.  

Kieran clapped his hands sardonically, while walking towards the two. “Bravo, gentlemen. Bravo!” They leered at him, not amused by his presence. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Gramps!”

“Ah, still don’t like me?  That’s okay.  I really enjoyed that move you pulled on the old man, where you faked one attack then went the opposite direction!”  Kieran poorly imitated some kung fu as he gave praise.

Kieran could tell he was being asked a question but didn’t know how to respond.

“M-Me?” asked Kieran.  Leukos shook his head.  He’s shaking his head so that means yes, Kieran reminded himself.  He wants me to fight this little boy?  That’s kinda messed up.  He nervously took the staff from Leukos’ hand.  The wood felt sturdy but light.  Kieran slashed at the air to get a feel for its weight.  “Whoa, you hear that?  This thing is a whip!”

The young boy reluctantly came over to the other two.  Leukos began to give directions, though Kieran didn’t understand a word of it.  It probably had something to do with the rules.  He was pointing to various spots on the floor, as if they were meaningful to Kieran.

“Fuck!” he cried out.  The curse echoed through the building.  “That hurt, you little shit!”

“Yeah, sure.  Whatever you say Leukos.”  He stood up slowly with his staff.  Seeing that Stavvo was in a ready stance, Kieran positioned himself opposite.  “Okay little dude, this time you--”

Stavvo lunged at Kieran, striking him in the leg before again hitting him in the face.  Kieran fell again, even harder than before.

“Shit!” he bellowed.  “For the love of… what the hell, man?!  Give me a goddamn second, will ya?”

Smiling, Stavvo began to recite something.  His tone was like that of a schoolhouse suck-up.  He closed his eyes as he continued to preach.  Kieran snatched up his staff.  And violently swept Stavvo’s feet out from under him.

The boy did not appreciate the old man’s point. Stavvo hopped up and pointed his staff directly at Kieran’s face, challenging him. The two squared off, ready once more.

 Kieran chopped at the boy with little regard for grace or appearances.  After a short exchange of blocks and parries, Stavvo struck Kieran in the side of the ribs.  

“Ah!” exclaimed Kieran, though he tried to act tough.  I can’t let this little dork think I’m soft, he thought.  How old is this twerp, anyway?  Shouldn’t he be playing with blocks instead of beating me with a stick?  Kieran clutched his ribs, hoping the pain would subside.  Trying not to look too pathetic, he went back to the center of the room and readied himself for the next match.

“Don’t piss me off, little man, or I’ll step on you.”

The loud clack of the staves could be heard throughout the complex well into the afternoon.

* * *

A foul smelling soup stared up at Kieran from the dinner table.  He was still exceedingly hungry and jousting with Stavvo for hours didn’t help.  To make matters worse, he had seen Marituria chopping ingredients and he knew all too well about avoiding sausage-making tutorials.  Some of the ingredients were obvious to Kieran, like the meat and greens.  Other components had looked a little more nefarious, like the semi-gelatinous green blobs (which were suspiciously absent from the final product).  Kieran poked around with his large spoon, hoping to find something that appeared edible.

“Smells great!” he said to Marituria with a smile.

“What are you guys looking at?” he asked, delaying his initial taste.  Leukos and Stavvo stared at him intently, curious as to what Kieran’s verdict would be.  All four sat around a small round table just outside the kitchen.  “You’ve got your own food.  This isn’t a damn show!”

Kieran’s audience was undeterred.  He shrugged, knowing he couldn’t avoid their glares.  He slowly lifted the spoon to his mouth, slurping its contents into his mouth.  He chewed and swished the soup in his mouth, as if it might help him avoid any unpleasant flavors.  The mouthful was sour at first, so much that it caused Kieran’s left eye to close shut, but it soon turned into a savory and hearty flavor.  He swallowed and smacked his lips.  The rest of the table hung on with bated breath.

“Eh.  It’s not terrible, I guess.”  Everyone else groaned in unison, understanding full well the tone of mediocrity in Kieran’s voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  I’m just not a big fan of whatever is making this so sour,” Kieran responded.  The four sat beneath a quaint chandelier that lit the room with four individual flames.  Kieran noticed there was no source of the flames, nor was there a fuel to keep them sustained.  Reminded of the basement in Chicago (and wanting to draw attention away from his reaction to the stew), Kieran pointed to the fire.  “How did you start that?  How is that thing lit?” he asked.

Kieran couldn’t help but respond sarcastically.  “Right, right.  That’s how you did it.  It was silly of me to even ask.”  He pointed again, though this time got close to one of the flames.  “Where did that fire come from?”  He added explosive sound effects and exaggerated hand gestures to remove all doubt as to what he was referring to.  He continued, “Did it come from a gas line?  Is there a secret candle wick I’m not seeing, with wax hidden in the chandelier?”  He continued on despite knowing he would never know.  Perhaps he was starting to lose his mind.

“Enough of this.  Kieran.  KIERAN!” said the young man, pointing to himself.  He then directed his attention back to the flame.  “Fire.  FIRE!”

Kieran was quite chuffed, proud he had learned something new.  He tried to continue the conversation in broken English, again aiming his finger at the chandelier.  “So, how do you make this… fire?”

Damn it. They don’t understand me, Kieran lamented to himself. He exhaled calmly and tried again to communicate with his strange hosts. Once more, he tried to make his point with theatrical hand gestures and the accompanying noises, pretending to light a fireball in his hands.

“That’s it!  So you can do… magic?  I shouldn’t be surprised, but--”

Marituria raised her hand as well, creating a flame like Stavvo’s.  Leukos too followed along, turning his hand into a candle.

“Wow.  You guys, I’m… I’m speechless,” said Kieran.  He started breathing heavily and nervously.  “I think I must be in a coma.  The wolves, the weird fire, this horrible food… this can’t be real.”  He placed his palms down on the table, trying to calm his nerves.  “This is just a dream.”

After sitting in silence for several moments and ultimately accepting that he was, in fact, still grounded in reality, Kieran tried to perform some magic of his own to no avail.  He extended his index finger, staring at it and pleading with it to do something.  Marituria and Stavvo laughed at his embellished attempts to copy them.  After many failed attempts and embarrassing hand flourishes, he resigned to finish his meal.  The four continued to converse throughout the dinner, though only three were actually corresponding.  Kieran decided he should try to learn more foreign words, if he could not figure out how to conjure fire.  By the end of supper, he already had “chair” and “table” down pat.

Stavvo gathered everyone’s dishes and brought them to the kitchen.  Marituria stood up and stretched, clearly satisfied with the food she had made.  Leukos rose and approached Kieran.

“Aw shucks, Gramps.  I think you’re handsome, too.”  Leukos waved Kieran on, beckoning him to follow.  “Oh.  Where are we going?  Are we going back to that gym?  Are you going to teach me how to shoot fire?!”

By that point, the sun had set and the hallways were dark, unlike the kitchen and dining area the two men came from.  Leukos turned into a room, not far from where Kieran had woken up.  With a wave of his hand, light flickered in two sconces, lighting up a small room.  

“Whoa!  So you know that trick too, huh Leukos?” asked Kieran.  He had his suspicions with the chandelier earlier, but now it seemed evident; these were being lit with some sort of magic.  Back in that strange room with his parents, Kieran originally assumed that the torches had been lit by some sort of trick, using a mechanism not unlike the Clapper.  After seeing his mother conjure up icicle daggers, however, he was inclined to believe differently.  Something wondrous was going on.

The smirk on Kieran’s face grew to a beaming smile.  So many bizarre incidents had plagued him that he didn’t have time to process what he was seeing.  The ice, the explosion, the lightning, the torches.

Magic is real!  It actually exists! Kieran realized.  I don’t understand how but it…  this is actually happening.  This isn’t some sort of coma dream.  The goosebumps on his arms were proof enough that he was fully conscious and cognizant.

He looked around the dimly lit room and determined it must be an office of sorts.  “What a cozy little study you got here,” Kieran said exuberantly.  Shelves, chests, and other pieces of storage lined the walls.  A few pieces of art filled in any empty spaces not covered by books.  There was a small nook that appeared to lead to another room, but it was too dark to tell for sure.  Aside from the torches, the only other source of light came from the moon via a small window above a centrally-placed desk, where Leukos took a seat.  At the same time, another small flame lit a lantern on the desktop.

Kieran couldn’t contain his excitement any longer.  He blurted out, “You’re teaching me how to shoot fireballs, right?!”

Leukos replied with a curious glance.

“Sorry, sorry.  You’re going to show me how to shoot fire balls!”  Kieran used the foreign word he had learned at dinner, while also pretending to shoot a blast out of his palms.  “Oh man, this is going to be sweet.  I know we’re just starting off with these little candles or whatever, but… gosh!  I am so excited!”

Leukos’ glance turned listless.  He stood and walked over to a large bureau covered in papers.  He opened a drawer and pulled out small, blank cards.

Look at all of this stuff, Kieran thought, peeking at all the materials he could see in the bureau.  Is this guy a professor too?

Leukos sat back down and motioned for his guest to take the comfier-looking seat next to the desk.  He reached for a small, grey, sharpened stick and began to write on one of the cards.  He flipped it over and drew a small picture before doing the same on a second card.  He filled out a few of them before holding up the first, which had a little drawing of a flame.

“Fire,” said Leukos.

“Right, ‘fire.’  I got it.”  There was no way Kieran was forgetting the word for fire anytime soon.

The old man shook his head, confirming Kieran’s pronunciation.  He flipped the card, revealing some writing.  It was the same strange alphabet he saw earlier in the town.  “Fire,” Leukos repeated, pointing to the word.  He put down the card and picked up the second.  It depicted a tree.

“Huh? Is that a tree? What does-- wait. Those are flash cards,” deduced Kieran. He furrowed his brows and glared at Leukos. “You’re not teaching me how to shoot fire! This is a damn vocabulary lesson!”

<< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter >>