Login FAQ  
It is currently Thu Mar 28, 2024 12:41 pm

All times are UTC + 1 hour




 Page 1 of 1 [ 1 post ] 
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Demolition
PostPosted: Mon Oct 23, 2017 10:57 am 
User avatar

Joined: Tue Sep 19, 2017 1:27 am
Posts: 158
Chaghatai, a boy who would grow to be no one, pointed excitedly with his left hand from his vantage point atop some stacked crates, “there he is, it’s him, it’s him!”

“That’s nice,” Geriel answered in a bored tone, it was hot, the shadows seeming almost to disappear as the sun passed its zenith overhead. The fifteen year old girl, nearing her own tatawur, the rite of passage that marked each Tarkhanate child’s transition to adulthood, felt her younger brother’s antics were well beneath her. She shaded her eyes and looked in the direction the boy indicated, secret excitement welling up when she spotted the hazy shape approaching. “Go tell mother,” she ordered, her tone unchanged.

“No!” Barely nine, Chaghatai was still a year or two from beginning his own schooling; he leapt down from the crates, hitting the sandy ground running, “I’m going to be the first one to welcome him!” he shouted without even glancing at his sister. She just shrugged, rolled her eyes, and headed inside, glad to be out of the searing midday heat.

Seeing the boy running towards him, Temujin spurred on his mare, bringing her to a swift trot and closing the distance before the exuberant kid could risk collapsing from the exertion. Meeting under the sun’s unforgiving glare, Temujin reached down, pulling Chaghatai up into the saddle in front of him. The man could not get a word in edgewise as his little brother, the youngest of five children, immediately began to prattle, so he just smiled and rode the rest of the way home.

***

Adjusting his keffiyeh impatiently, Chaghatai hopped from one foot to the other. Underneath the draped headdress, the boy’s bare scalp had been freshly shaved that morning. It was customary among certain Tarkanate Moto for male children to keep their heads shaved, a practice most likely started by a frustrated mother who had been forced to deal with her son’s unwashed, lice and flea infested hair one too many times. A boy’s head would be shaved one final time on the day he left to begin dedicated schooling and, from that day on, it would never be cut again.

This was the first chance Temujin had found to visit home since his tatawur, and Chaghatai had not forgotten his brother’s promise to teach him how to load and fire a musket. In fact, the boy had been impatiently restless since word had arrived of the visit, unable to focus on anything. Now that Temujin was here, the midday meal with his parents and siblings, only their oldest sister was absent, had seemed to drag on forever.

Finally, everyone had eaten their fill, and the table had been cleared. His parents and sisters had retired to the courtyard, his father would nap the heat of the afternoon away, while his mother looked after the running of the house. Temujin had gone to his room to gather his things and, as far as the young boy was concerned, was taking far too long about it.

***

The pair had set up in the shade of a pair of palm trees, the sun beginning its descent and allowing the shadows to stretch out once more. At a distance of a hundred feet, Temujin had set a target: a simple wooden frame roughly six foot high and two foot wide, leather stretched over it; it had two long stakes that the older brother had driven deep into the sand.

Chaghatai sighted along the musket, the weapon almost as long as he was tall, and squinted against the brilliant desert sun. The haze of heat rising from the sand made the target appear to shimmer and waver in front of him, and his palms were sweating. His brother adjusted the boy’s grip and grinned, hunkering next to him, “okay, if you have it all lined up, squeeze that trigger there. Don’t jerk it all suddenly, just squeeze it.”

“I am,” the boy whined.

“Keep squeezing. You’ll know when you’ve got--”

There was a crack, loud as thunder, and the Chaghatai almost toppled over, taken unawares as the musket kicked. Wide eyed, he looked between the target and his brother in amazement, “I did it, I really did.”

Taking the musket, Temujin jerked his head in the direction of the target as he began the process of priming the musket and loading it once more, “go take a look.” The younger boy raced across the sands, skidding to a stop in front of the target, eyes darting back and forth for any sign that he had been successful.

Then he saw it, a rip connecting two of the holes punched in the leather, pulled open by the tension of the cord threaded through them, in the upper left of the target. The musket ball had struck somewhere between the holes, grazing the frame behind, and the tension had caused the split to rip the leather. “I hit it! I hit it! I hit it!” Chaghatai danced, thrilled by the result, and ran back to his brother’s side. “Ididit-Ididit-Ididit,”he was bouncing on the spot.

The older of the pair rapped his little brother on the head playfully with his knuckles, “is that so? I guess you’re a natural. My turn?” They alternated a few times, Temujin peppering the leather around chest-height, though Chaghatai only managed to hit once more. The musket was loaded again… that’s when it happened.

Temujin was on one knee, giving his brother better ability to observe what he did, aiming slightly below his target to account for kick. There was no indication that anything was wrong. Chaghatai looked towards the target as Temujin pulled the trigger. The flintlock mechanism sparked, the gunpowder ignited, there was a deafening boom, and the musket stock disintegrated.

***

Chaghatai was lying on the ground. He had only been unconscious for a few minutes, but it was only the position of the sun that reassured him of the fact. His ears were ringing, he couldn’t see properly, and the pain was indescribable. Everything hurt, his head felt as though it had been split open and, in a manner of speaking, it had. He wiped his left eye with the heel of his palm, it came away bloodied, and there was the taste of copper in his mouth.

The final cartridge had been fouled. Temujin had thought it dried, but the powder was still slightly damp when he seated the musket ball. Sticking to the unburnt remnants in the barrel from the previous shots caused the ball to jam in the barrel. This alone might not have done worse than ruin the weapon, but it was at this moment that the flint shattered.

The previously unburnt powder had ignited forcefully as the broken flint created a shower of sparks. The wooden body of the musket fractured, shards of flint and splinters of stock violently flung outwards. A larger piece had struck Chaghatai on the brow, fracturing the orbital socket, tearing the muscles of the iris, and ripping open a gash from hairline to cheek.

His kirta was torn open, a piece of flint imbedded in his neck. Blood was drenching the lightweight fabric, and every panting, trembling breath brought a stab of pain from the deep lacerations across his chest. Somehow he pushed himself up so he was sitting, blinking sweat from his good eye, the left swollen closed.

Next to him, jaw half torn off and hanging at a drunken angle, nose crushed and his cheek caved in, was Temujin. The man was dead.



_________________
⚔ Clan: Unicorn ⚔ Family: Moto ⚔ School: Shinjo ⚔
⚔ Evil Eye ⚔ Disturbing Countenance ⚔ Foreign Heritage (Tarkhanate) ⚔ Gaijin Name ⚔ Left-Handed ⚔
⚔ Status: 1.0 ⚔ Faith: Expected ⚔ Reputation: 3.2 ⚔ Glory: 2.0 ⚔ Notoriety: 0.0 ⚔ Amazing Cavalryman ⚔
ThemeDescriptionDemolition (a short story)
On Duty: Light Armour, Musket w/ Bayonet (loaded), Shot Pouch (10 cartridges), Scimitar, Belt Pouch
Off Duty: Sturdy Clothing, Parangu, Belt Pouch
Offline
 Profile  
 
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
 
 Page 1 of 1 [ 1 post ] 

All times are UTC + 1 hour


 

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 3 guests

 

You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum

Search for:
Jump to:  

cron
phpBB skin developed by: phpBB Headquarters
Powered by phpBB © 2000, 2002, 2005, 2007 phpBB Group