Aeternitas by M Mixson (free ereaders txt) 📖

weeks until the head chef proclaimed that he was “Sufficient. Not great, but he’ll be fine.”

Boisson had nodded and taken him to a withered old man who despite his looks was still quite limber and agile. What Zese thought was going to be a three day trip turned into a two week one where he was taught how to trap animals, how to fish, what things he could eat in the wild, what was poisonous to him, what would kill him slowly, methods for evading other hunters, how to track animals, he learned all sorts of footprint techniques, how to move quietly through the underbrush and how to blend in.

The old tracker was quite pleased with him and was insistent that he become his personal apprentice. Boisson had laughed, amused with the fact that the boy was gaining the affection of his staff so easily.

The next person he was “fostered” out to was the man who ran the kennels. From here he was taught to handle the wildly vicious half-dog, half-wolf breed. They were large animals, more wolf than dog and had a massive jaw that if it caught you would crush bone. These were not pets, they were hunters, hunters who could easily bring down a stag if ordered to.

Zese did fall in love with these creatures, he thought they were beautiful and wild, like nothing he'd ever seen before, but still, they were dangerous and he realized this. The Kennel Master asked Zese to pick one of the new pups that had been born three months before. He'd take this animal and he'd train it to be his own.

The Kennel Master warned him that if he trained this animal to be docile that it could be very dangerous. When the wild instincts came out he would be ten times more vicious than if he'd simply been trained to control his nature. Zese took this to heart and for the next nine months he worked with this dog in between mucking out horses stalls and doing yard work for Boisson's gardener.

He found himself slowly growing attached to this place and his life here. His life back at his own estate had been filled with constant boredom and worry that somehow he might offend his mother or sister in some way. Now he was as free as anyone could ever be and he was happy. Happier than he'd been in a long while.

On his sixteenth birthday Boisson gifted him with a war horse. Boisson explained to him that his next lesson involved horses, war horses to be precise.

"You need to learn to ride and control them. Once they get to know you they'll become a loyal companion, they will protect you and fight for you as well as with you. At this stage you only have a very limited time frame to bond with this horse. I will show you what to do, but no matter what you must not be afraid. Showing fear shows weakness. You never want to show fear. Do you understand me?"

Zese had nodded and taken ahold of the reins of his new horse and started his training.

Boisson often watched from the outside of the ring as Zese was thrown off the stallion over and over and over. He would laugh every time it happen and tell Zese, "You're never going to get anywhere like that! Get back up and get your head on straight! Hup to it!"

Zese would climb onto the stallion’s back to almost be thrown again but after a few weeks he began to find his seat and perfect balance with the stallion. The stallion who remained unnamed began to bond with him. When Zese came into feed the horses his stallion would bang his hooves on the stall door and call out. Zese would go to him and give him a pat on the shoulder and feed him a sugar cube before returning to work. Zese fell into a pattern over the next few months of working hard and training with the stallion.

He found a noticeable improvement in his muscles, strength and stamina. When he worked with the man who taught him how to fight (brawl might have been a more accurate word) he was suddenly able to hold his own better.

The brawler had grinned at his over confidence and promptly thrown him against a wall, "Just to knock some sense into you. Never get overconfident. It's how you lose."

Zese had taken that to heart and was now soundly and firmly beating some of the young men who came to practice with him. As he strength began to develop and he began to age, he found himself in a strange situation.

He enjoyed this training more than he thought he'd would, but it had been over a year since he'd been home, since he'd seen his parents.

It was almost time to go see them, or so he thought.

Boisson had shook his head. "Not yet - you're not ready. Give me another year with you - until you're eighteen - and then you can prove to your parents that you're a different person than you were two and a half years ago. Besides you've really only got one lesson left in the art of war. You've trained in strategy, in planning, in mapping, in reading enemy lines, now there is only one thing left to do. Finish your weapons training. I have a swords master who can teach you better than I have. But it will be tough and difficult training. If you believe yourself to be weak of heart, go home now. But if you'd like a chance to prove that you're no longer a weakling stay and take the challenge."

Zese raised his head. "I don't back down from a challenge no matter what it is."

"I knew you'd choose the right choice. I never doubted you."

The young man turned on his heel and walked towards the main house, confidence in his step.

"My, my," Boisson murmured, "He's certainly grown. I knew I had picked the right lad for this job. He will become a hero at the end of this all. His mother should be pleased at least."

Boisson headed to the hall after Zese as he marveled at the idea that he had been the one to turn the boy into this young man so successfully.

Truthfully if he thought about it, it wasn't just him who had trained him. There had been multiple, multiple people who had made him into who he now was.

The old tracker was cackling as he waved a hare in the air. "Zese my boy! How do you feel about, hrrm, hare? I betcha could ask the kitchen staff for some of those, hrrm, vegetables. We could have ourselves a nice fancy victory dinner!"

Zese smiled kindly at the old man. "Sorry old man, I don't think I can tonight but I'll have the maids come down with some of those vegetables for you to eat if that's okay."

The old tracker sighed a bit sadly, "If you insist."

Zese waved his hand and walked through the front doors.

Boisson had watched the exchange and felt a strange sensation come over him. A year ago Zese would never have acted as coldly as he had done there. Had he helped that cold personality of his along? He felt his eyes close. Tomorrow would for sure affirm this new personality.

And when tomorrow came Zese found himself in deep trouble. As strong as he was the sword he was wielding was giving him trouble, he had trouble dodging while staying on the defensive. The swords master laughed every time he missed or was struck by the sword on his heavy padding.

"Stupid boy! You need more talent! More training!"

Boisson saw that Zese was becoming infuriated and attacking violently and wildly now.

"No, no not like that!" the swords master reprimanded him. "More grace, more elegance! Like so!" And he went through a series of movements to illustrate his point.

Zese snarled and managed to only slightly mimic him.

The days began to pass and Zese's improvement wasn't immediately obvious. But as the months began to pass and he had the basics down, it was then the improvement was seen. He went from fighting on his own two feet to fighting atop horses and on roofs, in large spaces and in small spaces, indoors and out.

As the day of his eighteenth birthday rapidly approached Zese's spirit seemed to bloom with a strange fiery fierceness.

And then, the day of his eighteenth birthday arrived. Boisson looked into his hard eyes, to his hard stance and frame.

No longer a boy, but a man. No longer just a noble man, but a warrior.

A true soldier of war.

 

Chapter 11: Eian’s Beginning

Eian stood still as snow came down around him. It was cold, wet and miserable. He raised his hand and planted it on the stone in front of him. That too was hard and cold. He could feel his heart pulsing with each moment singing, “You’re alive, you’re alive,” but his parents were not. They were dead, dead and gone. He let his eyes trail downwards to the fresh flowers he had placed at the grave site and all he wanted to do was kick them. His grandmother stood a little distance away watching him. He could feel her eyes on him and he hated it; hated the world, hated, hated, hated. How could such good people be taken in such a cruel way? Why? He looked towards the heavens and cursed it, cursed his fate, the gods, and everyone who had perpetuated this event.

As he stood there his anger grew and simmered just beneath the surface. He wanted revenge. Revenge for his parent's deaths and he would get it no matter how long it took him. He'd train until he'd gained strength, then he'd hunt the man who had caused this. He would not be allowed to live no matter what.

Blose stood still watching her grandson's facial expressions. She'd seen that look on a similar boy seven years ago when they'd first met. She felt for him deeply and wondered what she could do to relieve his pain. Her daughter, her beloved daughter was dead. Murdered. Murdered by some unknown man. For some unknown cause. And she knew how her grandson was thinking, revenge, he wanted to kill whoever had killed his family. She did too, she wanted their death more than anything in the world.

At the same time she knew that it was not realistic. There would be no vengeance and Eian would be stranded in poverty.

As Eian would be stranded in poverty, he would never be able to gain anything special from his life; anything he had hoped to achieve; anything his parents had been working for would now be useless. There would be no hope and Blose felt pain for this. She wanted her grandson to have a good life, but it looked like he would lack the means to get himself a decent future.

Blose took a breath and came forward resting her open palms on his shoulders.

"How do you feel about schooling?" she asked.

Eian looked up at her with dead eyes, "Schooling?" He asked.

She nodded, "Reading, writing, arithmetic, that kind of thing."

Eian frowned. "It'd sure be interesting. Why?"

"Because I can enroll you in a