Life is full of unknowns. If we knew all things, then life would hold little excitement. It is only through our curiosity that we find purpose. Even my children, the people of Tuatha De Danann, are not immune to this. My fear is when that curiosity becomes an obsession—a desire that forces them down a darker path.

~Mother Danu, The Primordial Goddess of Nature

Oof!

Crow collapsed backward, sucking wind into his lungs, trying to regain his breath.

“Big bro taught you about power but didn’t teach you about finesse. I might be weaker than your father, but that doesn’t mean he can beat me in a martial contest. Do you know why?”

“Because you can dance, and he can’t?” Crow said without a bit of guile.

“Pfftt, what is in that fool head of yours?” Luthais burst out laughing. “Your father was always stronger than me, so I learned to fight using my brain, not my brawn. That man would still pummel me in a straight-up fight, but only because he doesn’t fear pain or death while fighting.”

“I’m confused. Are you saying father’s way is right?”

“It is right for him, it fits his temperament, but it is not right for you and me. We lack his build. Judging by your skeletal frame, you’ll be brawny, but not like your father. You are more nimble than him, and based on what I’ve seen you do with your Source, you have more control than him. So I’m going to retrain you.”

Crow’s mouth fell open, not expecting his uncle to take this approach towards his martial training. He didn’t even know what to say.

“Do you know why I’m efficient at combat?” His uncle asked.

“No, sir.”

“Druids primarily seek knowledge, and they first gained fame through their ability to heal. The study of anatomy has been around as long as their study of combat. My efficiency comes from my knowledge as a Dotair, an older term that fell out of use. A Druid doctor is a Medik, and people like Song Lin are Alchemists. Druids put an emphasis on anatomy and knowing everything about the body—including how to break it. I’m efficient because I know these things. I know that if I struck you with two fingers here in your armpit, your entire arm would go numb, or here in your solar plexus, you’d probably collapse. The heel of my palm under your nose is extremely painful and can temporarily blind you. There are main nerve bundles on your body that I can strike with a lesser amount of force and maximize your pain.”

It was the first time Crow had heard any of this, and he felt like a new world was opening up before him. Disabling an opponent while conserving energy was a fundamental concept in most martial schools, but Crow never thought about crossing disciplines to make himself more effective at something. Such as using medical knowledge to strike an opponent more effectively.

“Good, you’ve already understood the implications. Now, let’s unlearn what you thought you knew.” Luthais grinned, and Crow backed up fearfully. The next few hours taught him that his uncle’s way of fighting was unlike anything his father taught him, and his father’s words haunted him the entire time he learned from his uncle.

His father used to tell him that in a fight, there are no rules. Luthais mastered this line of thought, and Crow shuddered, thinking about everything he just learned. On a deeper level, he preferred his father’s way of fighting. Crow left with one thought on his mind, he’d never claim his father fought dirty—ever. Uncle Luthais was king in that realm, no contest.

“Alright, I had a servant drop some books and vestiges in your room. They are books on medical knowledge, and the vestiges are my research and knowledge. I expect you to have all that stuff memorized by the end of the week, and we’ll use it in your training.” Luthais said as he walked towards the exit. “Oh, and after talking to the other elders, we cut your work hours in half. You are to be Otto’s caretaker and keep him out of trouble. Otto, listen to your cousin, Crow.”

Otto’s massive head nodded but continued to watch them with his vacant eyes. He was already taller than Luthais and had recently started sleeping in a sitting position. Crow wasn’t sure if it had to do with the bed being too short or if something else had changed. He only knew because the giant never shut the door to his room.

“Big guy, let’s fight,” Crow said after Luthais left. They’d started sparring recently, something the two used to do years ago when Crow first started his training. Strangely, Otto’s eyes gained some life, and he walked out into the middle of the courtyard, smiling.

Crow had barely reached the middle before a giant fist came smashing towards his face. He ducked, knowing he couldn’t avoid it, but the padded armor he wore when fighting Otto was enough to lessen the blow. Regardless, Crow still stumbled back a few steps.

Concentrating on keeping his breathing steady, Crow counter-attacked, trying to find the rhythm he’d developed for the two of them. Otto was built like an Elkan beast, slow and powerful. If Crow really went all out, he knew he could beat the big guy. It wasn’t about that, not really. Finding that battle rhythm was about consolidating what he’d learned, and Otto didn’t know how to hold back, so he made a great sparring partner.

It was during these fights that Crow suspected Otto wasn’t so simple. The big guy showed a lot of intelligence and ability when he fought, not something a simpleton could accomplish unless they were a martial prodigy.

Months slid by without Crow noticing, and Samhain arrived once more, meaning Crow was now thirteen. Luthais took them to the All Hallows’ Eve festival, a day of feasting, bonfires, and mulled ale. It ended at midnight when they walked through the tomb of their ancestors, offering sacrifices and obeisance. It was one of the few breaks in his routine.

Fighting with Otto continued, and all their sparring had bonded the two. He felt like he was communicating with Otto. They spoke their own language—not one with words, but one developed from a place of trust.

Luthais had figured out what they’d been doing months ago and hadn’t discouraged it when Crow explained that it seemed to help Otto become more self-aware. Instead, he guided them both.

“Okay, enough. Crow, tomorrow I’m going to train you with bladed weapons, and with an archer’s shield.”

“Archers use shields?” Crow’s interrupted, surprised that he’d never heard of such a thing.

“Of course they did. Our people still use a Pavise, and easterners use something similar called a Tate. They are large shields carried into a battlefield and placed so you can shoot from behind them. However, most cultures also have some smaller shields an archer strapped to their arm or back. It allowed them to quickly maneuver it into place when needed. You will practice your archery with it strapped to your arm. Then we’ll move on to combining it with other weapons for close combat.”

“Uncle, who would win if you and my father fought?” Crow asked, as it was something he’d been curious about for a while.

“Haha, that madman? If we fought without our Source, I’d beat him because my control, handling, and footwork are all superior to him. Add in the Source and his fighting edge—he’d dominate me every time. Not that I’m weaker than your father, it’s because his mindset is that of a warrior. He doesn’t hesitate and is decisive in his actions. He does not fear killing or slaughter when necessary. He doesn’t fear the blades that are aimed at him. Fighting someone that doesn’t fear the fight is hard enough without the Source. If your father ever learned proper control and fully grasped the Lingering Steps technique he uses, no one at the Topaz Shield level would be his opponent.”

Crow reflected on that and knew his mindset wasn’t much different from his father’s lately. Maybe he’d been like this since Gideon took his mother away. The anger he felt inside, he’d tried to pretend it didn’t exist—lied about it to himself.

Coming to terms with that anger was something he’d only attempted in the last two months. After reflecting on the fight with the dryads and his father’s actions, he realized anger was a tool. Controlling that anger provided a feeling of power, but it also made him feel arrogant, unwilling to bend in the face of adversity.

“Break time is over. Otto head over to the Sweet Onion and start unloading the goods that came today. Crow, you will show me what you’ve learned these last months.” Luthais grinned, and Crow cursed the demon that spawned his uncle.

An hour later, Crow snapped, striking and kicking until his heart felt like it was going to explode. Even as his body protested, he didn’t stop trying to kill his uncle. The devil rebuffed every attack Crow threw at him until his body finally collapsed to the ground. He was so thoroughly beaten that he laid there panting for an indefinite amount of time, trying to understand why he was so angry.

He never saw Luthais nod, nor the grin that followed.

“Your father’s anger affects your moves—”

“It isn’t his. It’s my anger,” Crow snapped back.

“Finally, you acknowledge it and anger isn’t a bad thing. Remember, control comes from a stable mind. Using katas and footwork to mimic control makes you unreliable in combat. It’ll likely get your allies killed.”

“But—”

“You want to ask about your anger?” Luthais chuckled. “I said, ‘stable mind,’ not emotionless. You can be angry as long as you realize that anger is part of you. Do you let that hand of yours control you? No? Then why let your anger? As long as you are in control, then your mind remains stable. Think on it. We will begin again at dawn tomorrow.”

Crow eventually climbed back to his feet and went to wash up before joining Otto. There was a wagon out front of Sweet Onion, but it was unlike any he’d seen before. The wheels were each as thick as his leg and banded with iron. It also had three wheels on each side, six total instead of the four on a typical wagon.

“Careful with that, you big oaf!” A large bearded man growled, using a wooden rod to strike Otto across the back. His cousin stumbled, and Crow rushed to help him up when the rod reared back again. The burning anger below the surface rose up, and Crow smashed the man against the side of the wagon, causing the rod to tumble from his limp hand.

“Whelp, I’ll kill you,” the bearded man stood back up. A gouge on his forehead leaked blood down his face. Crow ignored him and helped Otto up. The bearded man’s large hand clapped down on Crow, and Otto’s eyes lit up.

“No hurt, Crow,” Otto growled and grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him off the ground. Crow could see the whites of the bearded man’s eyes and the fear as he tried to kick his legs around in panic.

“Otto, stop!” Crow called out, but his shock wasn’t because of the man dangling from Otto’s fist—it was because Otto spoke. “You can’t kill here. Hurt, but not kill. Understand?”

“Otto understands,” he said and grinned before swinging his arm back with the man still dangling from his beefy hand and threw him at least ten meters. Even after landing, the bearded man tumbled and rolled another five meters. “Bad man.”

“What is happening out there?” Gavin asked as he stepped out of the Sweet Onion. He looked at the two children and then at the grown man rising shakily to his feet.

“He hit Otto…” Crow explained and didn’t leave out any detail when he explained it to Gavin.

“Is this true, Alan? Did you strike my clan’s children?” Outwardly, Gavin appeared calm, but something in his voice made Crow and Otto involuntarily take a step back.

“The big dummy dropped a crate. So yes, I struck the idiot.”

“And him? The one next to Otto?”

“I merely grabbed him.”

“You merely grabbed the clan head’s grandson? That’s audacious of you.”

Alan’s face paled, and he cursed his rotten luck under his breath.

“I will make amends.”

“You better. You can start by hauling your own goods around back. Crow and Otto head upstairs. I’ll talk to you two in a few moments.”

Crow pulled Otto along with him, and they went inside, climbing up to the second floor. Gavin usually wouldn’t let him enter this area unsupervised because of all the books and Crow’s own curiosity.

“You can talk?” Crow faced Otto.

“No. Yes. Hard think.”

“You can talk, but you have to concentrate to do it?”

“Yes. Head hurt. Not talk. Easy,” Otto said and scratched his bald head while his eyes were all screwed up in thought. “Otto, sorry.”

Crow processed that and nodded before slapping Otto on the shoulder. “No apologies necessary. We look out for each other. It’s what we do, okay?”

Otto nodded, and a big smile split his face from ear to ear.

“Uhm, but don’t smile like that. It’s a bit creepy,” Crow laughed.

They could hear Gavin coming up the stairs at that moment, and when he saw the two of them standing near each other, he nodded in approval. “I saw the whole thing. You two protected each other—this is good. It is how clan should act.”

“Did we cause problems?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Alan spends a lot of time out in the wilderness, and away from people, so he is a bit impetuous. He wouldn’t have seriously harmed either of you, but we can’t have him acting like one of the Wildmen either.”

“Are those crates important?” Crow asked.

Otto’s eyes had turned vacant—the spark of intelligence disappeared once more.

“The crates contain beast parts, cores, and bones. Each crate contains all the most important pieces of a single beast and then sealed to protect it from aging or spoiling the meat. Breaking one of them would have been a heavy loss but still salvageable. Alright, Otto, head on over to Luthais, and Crow come with me.”