Topic: The Making of a Sannyasin

Khonsku Nijjar · Date: 2009-01-05 22:22 EST

The Oasis of Bar-Ruhna
Somewhere/when else
28 Years Ago

It was a rare rainy day in the city of Bar-Ruhna when the Sannyasin seekers found a ratty half-starved boy standing over the corpse of a young mage. The seekers were in disguise, dressed in the opulent robes of government officials and carrying counterfeit staves. Their real weapons were concealed by their robes, and they hummed with energy as they sensed death so nearby.

?Think he did it?? one of the seekers asked the other.

?Yes,? he responded. The boy, he couldn?t be older than six, was staring at hands blackened by magic. The mage lay face up in the narrow, dingy alley, his lower jaw blown off, face burned and right hand destroyed. Nearby were the remains of a crude wand, mostly splintered beyond recognition.

?Looks like shoddy wand craftsmanship,? the first seeker said and knelt down to examine the ruined magical device. ?Spell cast, back-fired.?

?Probably self-made. Wanted to show off his newfound talents. Serves him right,? the second said, the snorted and spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the ruined face of the mage.

?You?re damned lucky, son,? the first seeker said to the boy. He had unkempt black hair and bright eyes the color of polished jade. He shook from the cold, from weakness, and fear.

?Maybe more than lucky,? the second said. ?We should take him with us.?

?We got a job to do.?

?This is part of it. We take him, let old Yok decide.?

?Fine, but I ain?t gonna have him putting up a fuss,? the first seeker grumbled and then stepped toward the boy. The boy backed away instinctively, raising his hands in a weak defense. The seeker gave the boy a hard smack on the side of the head and knocked him out. He picked him up, frowning at his lightness. He seemed to be made of little else by skin and air.

The second seeker delivered a kick to the corpse of the young mage, and then both of them left the alley with the boy slung over the first?s shoulder, leaving the dead mage behind without another glance.

Khonsku Nijjar · Date: 2009-01-07 19:15 EST

Sannyasin Training Grounds
Somewhere/when else
28 Years Ago

?Your name is Khonsku Nijjar,? the trainer told him. The trainer was an older man, balding, with a body like a barrel full of cement, and a single glaring eye the color of the sands. His name was Yok, and the boy was terrified of him.

?Say it. Say your name,? Yok said. The boy remained silent, trembling. He?d woken days ago in a real bed, waited on by nurses that fed him and washed him. He had thought he?d died and gone on to the far fields until this man had crashed in.

?W-why?? the boy finally asked.

?Normally when my students ask me why I knock their teeth back into their throat,? Yok said. ?But a name?s a powerful thing, so I?ll let it slide today.

?They?re strong names, names that no mage has ever taken, nor taken by any servants of mages. So they?re clean. Unknown to those damned monsters from the other side. And because I like it, and I?m as good as your new daddy, and that makes it my right and duty to name you.?

?The lord, in the alley?? the boy started to say before Yok cut him off.

?You don?t call ?em that anymore. The mages ain?t your lords or masters. They?re your enemies, enemies of all free men and women. They?re piles of offal stuffed with more of the same and if I ever hear you call one of their kin ?lord? again I?ll throw you back in the alley my boys found you in.

?You call them fakes. You call them monsters. You call them targets. You call them dead. Nothing else.?

The boy had pulled the sheets of his narrow bunk up to his face during Yok?s outburst. But he nodded.

?Alright, I answered your question, now you answer mine: what happened in that alley?? Yok asked the boy.

?The lo?the mage, he came out to smoke, caught me going through the trash bins. He started hitting me, yelling things at me, then he said he would teach me, and then I felt something hit me. We both fell down?? the boy said, trailing off. Yok listened and nodded.

?You got a gift. You?re one of the few, you can take some magic, more than the regular types. That means you might be able to be one of us.?

?Who??

?Sannyasins. You?ll know what that means later. You?re still too weak to start training. But you can do one thing??

The boy paused for a moment before looking Yok in the eye and said, ?Khonsku Nijjar.?

Yok smiled and said nothing as he stood up and left the small room. When the boy was alone, he looked down at his hands where the mage?s fire had burned him. The blackness was almost gone, and the boy almost thought he could see the remaining marks fading before his eyes. He clenched his tiny hands into bony fists.

?Khonsku Nijjar.?

Khonsku Nijjar · Date: 2009-02-18 18:29 EST

Sannyasin Training Grounds
Somewhere/when else
27 Years Ago

The gunshot echoed across the dunes. Khon cried out as the kickback from the heavy revolver set him off balance and down to the ground. 50 yards away, a green bottle atop a wooden post remained unscratched. There were several more gunshots, and a couple more surprised grunts as the other initiates fell down. Their targets remained untouched as well.

Yok was standing at the end of the row, thick arms folded across his broad chest. His war golem, Garesh, stood behind him shaking his head with a loud squeaking noise. Yok strolled up behind Khon, and Khon looked directly back up at the brutish man without flinching. If you flinched, he?d hit you twice.

Khon saw the meaty fist raise up, and then land between his eyes with a flat slapping noise. Lights exploded behind his eyes and he fell to the ground with a barely contained cry. If you cried, he?d hit you twice more.

So Yok went on down the line with several resulting smacks and following grunts as the other initiates fell down. When he came to the end, there was a final smack and then?

?Huh huh,? a soft chortle. A laugh. The other young initiates turned their heads to see who dared laugh at their master trainer. It was a boy Khon?s age, give or take a year. He had fair skin and hair that had turned the pure white of bone from some unknown shock the child had witnessed. The seekers had found him in the midst of a sacrificial circle, the other initiates whispered, in a pool of blood, unable to speak. The boy had no memories of anything before he woke up in the Sannyasin?s training grounds.

?Hafaz,? Yok said, his voice a low rumble, like a distant earthquake rapidly approaching. ?Do you find your failure amusing??

?No sir,? Hafaz said, and wiped at the blood beneath his nose, then smiled up at Yok. He had the largest smile Khon could recall seeing, like the sides of his mouth were trying to escape his face.

?Then why are you laughing?? Yok asked, his voice still quiet.

?Never said we couldn?t sir, only not to cry,? Hafaz replied. The other initiates, including Khon, waited for Yok to deliver another blow, possibly one that would send him back to the infirmary. It had happened before. Then he?d hit you twice more for wasting the nurses? time.

?Hm,? Yok grunted. Khon thought he saw one side of Yok?s beard twitch upward for the briefest instant, but wasn?t sure. The old man turned on the other initiates and roared, ?Back on your feet lads! Reload and try again. You?ll hit your targets even if it means I have to throw you at them!?

There was a quick scurrying as everyone scrambled to their feet and prepared to fire again. Khon spared a glance to Hafaz at the end of the line, grinning as he reloaded his gun.

?Weird,? Khon whispered, and took aim again.

Khonsku Nijjar · Date: 2009-02-22 17:12 EST

Sannyasin Training Grounds
Somewhere/when else
24 Years Ago

The room Khon was standing in was small, made of dull gray stone, and perfectly square. It had two doors on opposite walls; one of them was plain woods with a dull brass handle, while the other was made of iron and had large bolts holding it shut. The only furniture was a single table set against one side, a leather covering draped over it an concealing unknown objects. The ceiling and side walls were covered in markings: countless tiny black vertical cuts that had been carved into the rock, like some mad inmate who had been counting off the years imprisoned in this room.

Khon was looking between the little cuts and the table when the room?s only other occupant, Yok, cleared his throat. Khon immediately gazed up at his trainer and handler, teacher and torturer.

?This is the first time you have entered this room, Khonsku,? Yok said. ?I hope it is not the last. If it is, you will join the Nameless on the walls here.? Yok nodded his head at the hundreds, maybe thousands of indistinct marks on the walls. Khon?s eyes widened at the implications.

?If you survive today, you will come in here once more, and if you survive that second time, you will be a Sannyasin.?

?Y-yes, sir,? Khon said.

?You were told that you would be given a test today, on the anniversary of your naming. Your birthday.?

?Yes sir.?

?What is a Sannyasin, Khonsku??

?A weapon, sir.?

?Is it a man??

?No, sir.?

?Is it a human??

?No, sir.?

?What is the purpose of a weapon, Khonsku??

?To kill, sir.?

?That is your test today,? Yok said and looked down at Khon. ?You are about to move on to advanced training, learning how to resist and fight the demonic forces that the People?s Army fights against. But we would be wasting our time if we taught you, and you were not willing or able to kill.?

Khon remained silent, looking up at Yok to continue. His stomach was a tight little not somewhere between his lungs now. His hands shook.

?S-sir,? Khon started, afraid he would be struck for interrupting. When he was not, he continued, ?When?before I first came here, I k-killed that mage. That was how I was found.?

?That was an accident, Khonsku, and you know it. It was that mage?s own idiocy and your dumb luck that killed him. A gun does not kill Khonsku, neither does a knife, or a spell, or a club. It is the desire that kills, to see another dead before you. You have not shown that yet. Today you will, or you will die.?

Khon could not reply. He bit his lip and looked down. Yok reached down into his boot and withdrew a simple, but deadly knife. He threw it down at Khon?s feet.

?Use it, or your hands. Your opponent is similarly armed. You have been trained well enough in hand-to-hand at this point. Do you have any more questions, Khonsku??

Khon looked up at Yok, at the dashes on the walls that had once been lives. He had many questions, but none that would make any difference if he knew the answer. He reached down and picked up the knife, clutching it in his hand, and shook his head.

?Good. Now go Khonsku, and do what you are supposed to,? Yok said, and opened the heavy metal door. Khon stepped through it, and winced as it banged shut behind him.

Khonsku Nijjar · Date: 2009-02-24 19:46 EST

Sannyasin Training Grounds
Somewhere/when else
24 Years Ago

Khon found himself in a vast circular room with a low ceiling. Like the room before it, this place was constructed of featureless gray stone. Small niches had been cut into the wall and candles had been placed within them. Here and there Khon could see faded burn marks or rust colored stains. The room stank of old meat left in the sun, and the smell was thick in the air, gagging him, sliding down his throat.

There was a quiet murmur from the other side of the room and Khon?s breath caught. A figure stepped forward, dim in the flickering candlelight.

It was a boy, not much older than he; perhaps thirteen at the oldest. He had the aristocratic look of a noble, with fair features and expensive clothes. Khon remembered seeing his kind occasionally from a distance, perhaps sitting on the terrace of an expensive restaurant, or passing him by on the street with a mild look of revulsion. He was a mage in training, or had been before the seekers had taken him from?wherever and placed him here.

The other boy?s eyes were wide with fear, and his upper lip was pulled up in a silent snarl. Khon looked down and saw the boy wielding a knife much like his own.

Khon didn?t know what they had told the boy, but it was enough. He looked ready to pounce on Khon at any second. After another beat during which the boys took each other in, he did.

Khon let out a senseless cry of surprise as he stepped aside, the boy?s knife whizzing past his stomach with less than an inch to spare. Khon swung his own knife out in dumb confusion, and only managed to nick the boy on the side.

The boy whirled around and gave Khon a deep slash on his arm, silent in his attack. Khon jumped back, panicked. He knew as soon as he felt the animal terror rising in him that if he let it take over, he would be dead. The boy was bigger than him, and desperate. Khon had to remain calm, watchful.

Khon stepped back and turned so his side was facing the boy, making his body a narrower target. The boy jabbed forward with his knife, thrusting it towards Khon?s neck. Khon stepped easily to the side, letting the boy?s forward momentum carry him past. He brought his knife up, into the boy?s armpit, and slashed to the side, severing some of the muscles that connected arm and shoulder.

The boy screamed in agony, dropping the knife at once. Even if he survived and received treatment, his arm was crippled. He fell to the ground and clutched at his bleeding armpit, howling. Khon looked down at him, eyes wide. He could hear the blood rushing through him, hear it pounding in his temples, feel the other?s blood on his hand, hot but cooling, sticky, scent like copper.

Khon stepped over to the boy and looked down at him, knife in hand. The boy looked up at him, the flicker of candles in the black arena making his features nightmarish and inhuman with pain and fear.

?Don?t. Don?t,? the boy said. The would-be mage said. The would-be killer said. He would be nothing. No more.

Khon had stuck the knife into the boy?s neck almost before he had realized it. He looked down the length of his arm, at his hand clutching the knife handle, where the blade disappeared into smooth flesh. Khon jerked his hand back and the knife with it, and his gorge rose as he felt the boy?s skin clutch at the knife as if it needed it. The blade slipped out with a wet sound, and the boy gurgled once as his blood, thick and dark in the poorly lit room, like oil, spilled from him and emptied onto the floor.

?Gods,? Khon said and dropped the knife. He fell backward, and the sudden shock was all it took to release the pressure in his stomach and make him vomit. With a cry he fell down onto his side, and sobbed as the light of the candles faded and his consciousness slipped away.