Ash recognised the guard on duty, a nasty piece of work called Martin; he took every opportunity to make people like Ash's lives even more miserable than they already were. He recognised his shabby black uniform, his wet hair that had nothing to do with the rain, and his ugly, giant nose.
"I have a temple apprentice badge," Ash stated before Martin, who had stepped in front of him, could say anything.
"That you have, that you have. But do they?" Martin said, pointing at Spark and Miru, "I don't think so."
"They passed the test at the temple. Their badges will be issued tomorrow."
"Tell you what, you can go, I'll keep your little friends company till you can get the permits for them to enter and leave the city."
"They're free, Martin. Free folk don't need permits."
Ash saw the hit before it came; he could have avoided it, but the other two could not, lest this person's wrath extend to them.
He got backhanded so hard that it took him off his feet, before he could fall to the ground, Spark and Miru were behind him, supporting his weight.
"Serves you right, you wretch. Free folk, you lot? Don't make me laugh?
You think just because your mother can sell herself to the people in power, you can just go about doing whatever you want?"
Ash clenched his teeth. He balled his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white; he wanted nothing more than to bash Martin's face in with his bare hands. Not yet, not yet, his mother had been through much worse than he had; this was nothing. He was the elder brother, he was in charge of the kids, and he wouldn't let them get hurt. Mother had given him that responsibility, and he wouldn't disappoint her.
"We're free, Sir. The temple wouldn't take slaves.
I've been offered a permanent position among the Flamebound, Spark might follow, and Miru's bright enough for the scholars.
You let us through today… We won't forget it."
Martin spat on the ground,
"No papers? Then they're not free. That's the rule."
He leaned in. "And you… future knight, should know that, you little shit."
Ash braced himself. Reasoning had failed. Tomorrow, the temple would shield Spark and Miru. Today, all they had was him. Martin wouldn't kill him.
Probably.
Ash punched Martin hard. Martin fell back flat, and he screamed at Spark and Miru to run. Spark immediately took off for the checkpoint, while Miru turned back and ran in the opposite direction. Spark noticed Miru's absence too late; he tried to turn back, but Ash screamed at him to leave.
The frightened boy darted off towards the settlement. Thankfully, none of the other guards were in a particularly cruel mood today and let him go. That left only him with Martin; if he had run as well, Martin would just have chased them down, and most likely other slaves would have been caught up in his revenge as well.
"Hah! You're dead, kid."
Ash suffered through what felt like hours of pain.
He was already an experienced punching bag for the knights in the temple, but even strategic defence had limits.
Martin showed no sign of calming down, and the rest of the guards were as uninterested in stopping the spectacle of his beating as they had been in stopping Miru or Spark from escaping Martin.
Have to do something fast.
Ash felt awfully calm; he had to be, he could never let emotions define his actions. Because any action he took affected more than just him.
Martin was tired, his breathing was coming in gasps, "huff…huff, you… huff, you think you saved those brats." he hit ash again, "Oh no, after I'm done with you… Huff, I'll chase down that little runt that ran into the city. I'll enjoy my time with her… huff, then we'll go to the slave camp for an inspection." He hit Ash again. This time, Ash's arms absorbing the blow proved ineffective in damping the blow; he almost puked. "I won't stop till I find the other one and string him up".
"Who'll stop me? You think the temple gives a rat's ass what happens to you people. No… Maybe I'll even give your Ma a visit, see what the fuss is all about."
Martin grinned wickedly.
There they both were out in the rain, Ash with his already flimsy clothing, barely holding back the caustic shower. Martin, with his shabby, unkempt but still functional guard suit, which kept most of the rain away from him. Surrounded by puddles of caustic rainwater, quickly draining into the channels built into the streets. Ash's cowering and crawling had led them away from the checkpoint and near a drain into which multiple channels were emptying.
Ash was angry; he had thought there would be a limit. Every abuser had one, but Martin's cruelty seemed to demand too high a price.
I bet he has never been desperate enough to taste the rain.
Another hit came. Martin was used to his subjects taking the beatings like slaves, devoid of the will or capacity for disobedience.
But Ash was no slave. Ash lunged into the kick, grabbing hold of the leg, and then moving on to Martin's body.
Martin had no time to react. Soon, Ash had a hold of his neck. He was a scrawny kid, but he was by no means little; he was almost the same height as Martin.
The momentum brought both of them to the ground, with Ash on top. The back of Martin's head hit the pavement, leaving him disoriented.
The disadvantage couldn't last long. Ash took the initiative and peeled back Martin's hood. Ash rolled, the hood tearing free in his hands.
In the same motion, he vaulted over Martin's head, landing hard on the other side and yanking backwards with his whole weight. The clasps hooked into the uniform prevented the hood from completely tearing free, but they made for a perfect noose.
Not around the neck, but higher, clenching Martin's jaw shut, causing his confusion to turn into panic.
Martin clawed at the tightening loop, fingers slipping on wet polymer cloth and rain-slick metal. His boots scraped uselessly against the pavement as he tried to rise, only to be dragged back down, his head snapping against the ground again.
Ash braced his feet against the stone, back arched, ribs screaming. He wasn't strong enough to choke a grown man. He knew that. He had always been picked on in the training sessions he had done with the flamebound. He had learned to be adaptable.
Martin tried to roll, but Ash shifted with him, keeping the angle wrong, keeping the pull uneven. Every movement only tightened the noose, the clasps grinding, the polymer cutting into skin beneath.
Rain poured down on Martin's exposed face now. Caustic drops hissed against his cheeks, into his eyes. Down his nose as he tried to inhale. It wasn't damaging enough to do instant irreparable damage. But it had to sting. And at this point, it was more about keeping Martin off-balance so that he didn't use his size advantage to overpower Ash.
Ash wrenched once more, dragging Martin's head back into the runoff channel, and he let loose the make-shift noose around his jaw. Martin hurriedly opened it to get air into his lungs. Acid-laced water splashed over his mouth and nose, flooding him mid-breath.
Martin bucked violently, frantic strength finally baring its teeth. Ash felt himself lifting, his arms shook, as his vision tunnelled. He couldn't hold this. His muscles were already failing, his body trembling from pain and shock.
So he changed the goal.
Ash released one hand just long enough to slam his forearm down across Martin's throat, pinning his head back into the stream, into the burning rainwater.
As the seconds stretched, Martin's thrashing slowed, movements turning erratic, uncoordinated. His hands beat weakly against Ash's arm, then slipped away entirely.
Ash let go and rolled clear, gasping, coughing, his chest on fire. He lay there in the rain, staring sideways at Martin, unable to move, unsure if he had gone too far.
Martin lay half-submerged by the drain, the noose slack now, chest hitching in ragged, broken breaths. The skin on his face was an angry red.
As he started getting up, Ash saw Martin's eyes, which were full of hatred, when they had just been angry and indifferent before. Ash had to make a decision.
"How did the water taste?" Ash asked, "I know it well, most of us in the settlement do, it tastes like death."
Ash brought his heel down on Martin's throat. He had never killed before, so he didn't know what the quickest way to do it was. He kept stomping on his neck till he felt something crack underneath.