Sam didn"t protest. He instantly turned solemn and closed his eyes. He extended his hands as I carefully placed the blade on his small palms. I just couldn"t bring myself to kill him just yet. "Make sure you hold it tight from here," I said, pointing at the sword"s hilt. I"ll tell you this though; I enjoyed acting condescending toward the all knowing Sam. "Don"t let it slip or it"ll cut your hand off."
He happily nodded. He held the sword from its pommel with surprising strength. "It"s sharp!" he gasped.
"Go on, give it a swing in the air," I suggested. "It can"t be that heavy for a boy with your strength."
Sam gave me an excited look then turned to the sword. He frowned as he held it in both hands. He gave it a swing, and the blade sang as it cut through the air. With a metallic clang, the sword fell on the ground and almost took Sam with it. The little devil held on though. He heaved the sword up in the air again and admired it.
"This is a great sword, I can feel it," he said. "What"s its name?"
"Come again?" I asked.
"What"s its name?" he repeated. "Every great sword has a name you know." He had a habit of holding his nose up when he stated facts obvious only to him. It reminded me of how much I loathed his frequent arrogant boasts.
"Well this one doesn"t have a name," I said, to which Sam snorted.
"What do you mean she doesn"t have a name?" he asked, outraged. "Listen to her sing!"
He swung the sword once more and it whistled through the air. This time, he managed to stop it right before it fell and took him with it. "She carries a lot of anger, and sadness," he said with such wisdom I never knew he possessed. "She"s somehow like you and me, sad and angry."
"I"m not sad," I defensively retorted. In retrospect, telling him I wasn"t sad was like admitting to it. Sam chuckled, and the little boy already started to get on my nerves.
"You make the same face I do when I have a fight with Agatha," he said. "Here, you can have your sword back." He handed it back to me, pommel pointing upwards.
"Don"t you want to play with it some more?" I asked. No kid at his age would have returned a real sword if it was handed to him. I know I wouldn"t!
"I don"t like hearing her sing," he said in a sad tone. "Did you come here to be alone too? I come here sometimes when I want to forget everything."
"What would you want to forget?" I asked, frowning. This version of Sam was alien to me. I"ve never seen him open up like this before.
He gave me a wide smile, only his eyes showed he didn"t mean it. "Did you know uncle Thibault?" he asked.
"Who?" I feigned ignorance.
"The man you took to my aunt," he said. "Myles told me you were the one who cut his leg off."
"What do you think?" I asked.
"Myles is sad," Sam said. He looked down at his feet and started drawing half circles in the dirt. "We do stupid things when we"re sad, like steal auntie"s bottle caps and watch her look for them all day long. She"d lose her mind and her hair will come in the way. She"d spend half an hour fighting her hair alone, like a mad woman." He giggled. "It makes me laugh. I forget the pain when I laugh."
Just who the h.e.l.l was I speaking to? Where was the carefree Sam who did as he pleased? I never thought he"d be this tortured inside. "You can"t forget pain," I said. "You"ll only drown it under something else. For most men, it"s booze. For you, maybe it"s mischief."
Sam"s eyes twinkled as he nodded. "You look familiar. Have we met before?" he asked. "It"s strange but... If Myles grew as tall as he hoped, I bet he"d look like you. Besides, you have one eye. You look strong and cool. I bet Myles would love that!"
I realized that I hadn"t sheathed my sword then. My hand squeezed the handle until I heard leather protesting. This little boy was the cause of my family"s demise. This tortured young boy... It"d be a gift to end his suffering here and now, really...
"Tell me about your parents," I said, swallowing hard.
Sam frowned.
"You always talk about your auntie," I went on. "Don"t you have parents?"
Sam shook his head. "My father died before I was born. My mother threw me in the gutters and left me there. Aunt Agatha found me and raised me ever since. She"s the only parent I need, really."
"Don"t you think she"d be looking for you by now?" I asked.
Sam shook his head, a devilish smile plastered on his face. "I stuffed a pillow and put it under the blanket. She only looks at me through the door. She never comes close. That"s how I always sneak off at night."
My hand twitched. I wondered if Minsec...
Screw Minsec! If this could spare my family"s life in another time, another reality...
p.i.s.s on Minsec and p.i.s.s on the G.o.ds!
All I had to do was push the sword. It"ll cut through his weak, bony body like a hot knife through b.u.t.ter.
"She also has uncle Thibault to look after," Sam said, breaking the silence. He suddenly turned sad. "Myles must be sad now. What do you do to cheer people up?"
The more I spoke to this child, the guiltier I felt about what I was about to do. I shook my head. I shouldn"t hesitate...
Not now...
"What about your parents?" Sam asked. "Are they still alive?"
My stomach churned. I started shaking heavily. "I don"t know what"s alive anymore," I said through gritted teeth.
I took the first step toward the boy...
All I had to do was push...
"Are you alright?" he asked. He must have sensed something was amiss. His eyes darted from my sword to me, then back to my sword. "What are you still doing with that?" he asked. His voice broke. He knew what I was going to do.
He tried to escape but I ran after him. I jumped at the little rascal and caught him from his legs. He squirmed, turned around then kicked me in the face. My nose stung. I felt hot blood rushing out through my nostrils as Sam scurried away.
It was then that it hit me again...
Memories came rushing back like a deluge. Sam had told me about a man who tried to kill him when we were children. He"d told me it was the same man who tried to kill father. He oversold some parts of the story of course, like his heroic escape from the murderer in the night, but his story matched tonight"s events perfectly.
I lay on my back and roared in laughter.
What terrible fate have I brought myself into?
I could only laugh until my sides started hurting. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. Laughing soon turned into hysteric sobs. I curled into a ball near the soft rock and quietly sobbed the rest of the night away.