For the clan: Part I/II/III (Zech Caan)

“For the clan”

Part I

‘Don’ ye ever stray outta this village, lad. Th’leaders’ll make sure ye get used t’th’sigh’ o’ yer own blood if y’do. There won’ be anythin’ we can do t’stop ‘em’

--

The Caan village had always been the embodiment of fear, though not only for those outside it. The clan was never as unified as outsiders may have thought; more blood was shed on the dead and crusted ground beneath the villager’s feet than outside on the winding trails and dirt roads.

‘Live by the clan, die by the clan’

Every Caan was brought up by those words, that their bodies and even their lives didn’t belong to them, it belonged to the clan. For the first eight years of his life, Zech Caan quite easily lived according to the rules. He never strayed, he never disobeyed and he always accomplished any task he was given. He was quite sturdy, for a boy of eight, a sign of constant physical training, or so it was called. To Zech it was more like being thrown into a pit of wolves and doing everything he could to escape with his life.

--

Zech slowly blinked open his eyes at the sound of heavy rain battering the boarded up windows of the house he shared with his parents. He grumbled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. There was one thing that Zech developed at an early age, and that was a love of relaxing, the hardest thing the boy would ever do, even as a man, was get out of bed.

He turned and set his bare feet against the decaying floorboards beside his bed and stood up, letting out a loud yawn. Today would be like any other; he’d be taken outside and made to fight with a couple of boys who would no doubt be older than him. He didn’t mind the fighting; he’d been taught that the Caans were only alive for that. The fact he was forced to fight battles he couldn’t win confused the boy, but who was he to argue?

The Caan clan was divided and had been for many years before Zech’s time, the main branch of the clan would never yield their power over it, and those that were just an easily broken twig would never rise through the ranks.

After slowly pulling on his torn and stained clothes he turned to leave his room, bumping immediately into his father, Revan. As he looked up at him, he could see concern spread across his father’s face, something that he’d very rarely seen before.

‘Dad? S’th’matter, y’look crap’ said Zech, his mouth twisting in confusion.

‘Wha’ever ye do Zech, don’ come back in ‘ere ‘til sunrise, y’stay out in th’village an’ ye don’ come back in ‘ere, y’got me?’ said Revan as he looked down sternly at his son.
‘Why? I can’t stay ou’ there all nigh’, they’ll make me figh’ all bloody day!’ said Zech as he stuffed his hands in his pocket and grumbled a little.

‘Jes get yer arse out there, yer stronger n’ most o’ th’kids anyway. Jes keep fightin’ boy, s’all we’re good fer’ said Revan as he turned and walked out of the doorway, heading down the stairs. Zech shook his head in further confusion and listened as his father descended the staircase, each step producing a horrible creaking from the decaying wood.

After a moment of simply standing in the doorway, Zech left his room and walked downstairs, the creaking of the stairs non-existent. As he walked towards the door, he turned to look at his mother and father simply stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other.

‘D-‘ started Zech before being interrupted by Revan yet again. Zech watched as he looked over his shoulder at him and nodded once. ‘Time t’get goin’ boy’ he said quietly, the look on his face the softest Zech had ever seen it.

‘S’goin’ on ‘ere?! Yer bein’ all weird n’ kickin’ me outta th’ouse n’ shi’, if y’wanna screw y’could jes say it! I ain’ feckin’ stupid!’

Revan turned fully and walked towards Zech with the same soft look on his face, before grabbing him by his shirt and flinging him out of the house. Zech landed on the damp and mud covered ground with a slight growl, standing up as quickly as he could to face Revan again. Revan simply stared at Zech for a moment, before shutting the door, leaving his son in the mud and the rain, as prey for the snakes and wolves of the villages.

Zech clenched his hands into fists and turned away from his house, his hair already damp enough to stick to his face. He turned to see a smug looking boy; he had at least a head over Zech in height.

‘Lookin’ t’go are we, kid? ‘cause I got plen’y o’ time free’ said the boy, smirking as he stepped forward and looked down at Zech. ‘Piss off Garel, I ain’ interested in yer shite t’day’ said Zech as he tried to brush past Garel. It wasn’t long before he felt a shooting pain in his head, as Garel turned and punched him in the back of it. Zech hunched forward and fell to one knee, growling and cursing under his breath.

‘I’m gonna give ye a solid beatin’, then yer gonna realise ‘ow pathetic ye really are, yer na’ even a proper Caan, can’t even call yerself a root o’ th’clan, yer jes there t’die fer th’rest o’ us!’ said Garel.

With those words Zech was kicked to the damp ground once again, grimacing and wincing painfully as Garel proceeded to kick him in the chest and ribs relentlessly. Zech lifted an arm to try and shield himself, only for Garel to stop and move to the side, punching him in the face with a forceful punch.

Knowing that he was unable to win or get away from the fight, Zech simply closed his eyes and growled as each blow landed. This was the life of every Caan growing up and unbeknownst to Zech, this wouldn’t be the most painful attack of the day.

I'm so pleased that you've started writing about Zech, I am interested to see what's made him into what he is! A good beginning, with the strange behaviour of his parents and Zech's own thoughts on life and getting on with it, and more insight into what a Caan is and what the village was like. I will obviously never complain when you write about Caans, but I am indeed intrigued by this one.

“For the clan”

Part II

It had been a few hours since Zech had received a beating at the hands of Garel. He had spent his time walking around the village seeing if anyone had dropped anything worth scavenging but he had come up empty handed. He had travelled to the outskirts of the village to his usual spot and licked his wounds.

He tore a piece of the ragged vest he wore and wrapped it around a cut on his palm, grunting all the while. This was nothing new to him, this sense of duty and hopelessness twisted together into a sick way of life. Zech wasn’t the sort of boy to complain about a single thing that happened to him, his father had always taught him to take everything thrown at him on the chin and move on, not to harbour any anger or desire for vengeance.

Zech lifted his head and peered up into the evening sky, possibly the only beautiful thing you could see from the village and something he had grown to appreciate. His father was very much like the sky; he was capable of everything it was. He could be calm and peaceful, he could be angry and blazing and he could be grey and dark, as he had been that morning. Zech shook his head and looked down at the tree in front of him, it had several cuts and dents in its bark, the fruit of hours of Zech’s training in the past.

He bent down and picked up a jagged looking branch and begin stripping the bark from it with his fingernails, it wasn’t often that he came into possession of a blade, so his training was mostly done with branches and sharp rocks. He dropped strips of bark onto the ground as blood continued to trickle from his nose. Like most children of the village he was already more than used to bleeding, the feeling of his blood dripping down his face was nothing to him, it would stop in it’s own time.

As he stripped the final piece of bark from the branch and dropped it to the floor, his ears twitched at the sound of foot steps behind him, he looked over his shoulder before turning and stared at the figure stood a few yards from him. She was a short and thin girl, wearing clothes almost as ragged to him, yet her confident smirk and stance brought a slight smirk to his face.

‘Wha’ ye doin’ ‘ere Saela? Though’ ye were trainin’ wit’ yer Dad t’nigh’’ he said as he pierced the ground with the branch and stuffed a hand in his pocket.

‘Well, I were lookin’ fer ye, weren’ I? ‘ad yerself another beatin’ t’day, eh? Yer lookin’ real sharp’ said Saela with a smirk as she stepped forward. Zech shook his head and wiped some blood from beneath his nose with a hand, flicking some of it onto the dried ground beneath them.

‘Jes another day, I ain’ fussed abou’ th’fightin’, s’th’way shit is ‘ere’

Saela let out a dry laugh and let her arms hang at her sides.

‘Y’know, ye wouldn’ be sa’ bad if y’didn’ keep sayin’ shi’ like tha’. Me’ Dad is always goin’ on abou’ ye chattin’ shite. Reckon I prefer ye when yer bein’ quiet’

Zech shrugged and adjusted the bandage around his palm. She was right in a way, he did have a habit of almost preaching about the way of life. It was because of his father, his very strange father. If there was a man in this village entirely unlike a Caan, it was he. He was strict, but he’d never raised his hand to Zech outside sparring and he would always make sure Zech knew that this wasn’t all there was to life. A fact that Zech would never believe, even in his later years.

‘Yer thinkin’ again, ain’ ye? Sit th’feck down n’ actually talk y’stupid sod. Y’spend way t’much time in tha’ ‘ead o’ yers, y’jes make me wanna ‘it ye all th’time!’ said Saela as she walked forward and grabbed Zech by his arm, dragging him to the tree behind him and shoving him to the floor with a chuckle, sitting down beside him with a thud.

Despite her violent nature and cocky attitude, Saela was the closest thing Zech had to a friend in the village. He preferred keeping himself to himself, but she had a habit of dragging things out of him and making light of situations. Zech looked at her and smirked before speaking.

‘Was jes me’ Dad, ‘e were actin’ weird t’day. Chucked me outta th’ouse n’ all tha’, but ‘e were differen’. ‘im n’ Ma weren’ righ’, somethin’s goin’ on’ said Zech as he frowned and looked at the ground and started clicking the bones of his fingers.

‘Th’feck ye care fer? I know ye n’ yer Dad are all frien’ly t’each other n’ shi’ like tha’, but they’re th’adults, leave ‘em t’their own shit’.

Zech nodded, she was right once again. He had a habit of trying to involve himself in matters that he would never understand, like he was trying to grow up too fast. His mind worked in strange ways and he would never be able to voice every thought he had.

‘Stop thinkin’ ye tit!’ said Saela sharply as she punched him in the arm. Zech let out a laugh and shook his head, doing his best to make sure he didn’t show the fact Saela’s punch had actually hurt. The girl had pointy knuckles.

‘This’ll give ye somethin’ t’think abou’, ‘cause I gotta get back t’me wanker o’ a Dad. ‘e jes put th’trainin’ back ‘cause ‘im n’ Kaden ‘ad shi’ t’take care of, but’ Saela paused and looked thoughtful for a moment, putting her dirty hands on her knees.

‘Y’know ‘ow folk roun’ ‘ere find their folk pretty early? Y’know, fer shaggin’ n’ all tha’. Well, I ain’ got a clue when, but when I get me’self some tits, I’m comin’ t’find ye. Reckon tha’s wha’ I think anyway’ said Saela as she looked at Zech with a grin.

Zech blinked and looked at Saela again, an eyebrow very much raised. ‘Wha’, yer na’ gonna wanna shag me?’ said Saela as her face formed a threatening look. Zech shook his head quickly and raised his hands in front of him.

‘I’ll shag ye, blimey. Jes come find me; feck if I’m dealin’ wit’ looks like tha’ though’ he said quickly.

Saela grinned widely and patted Zech’s shoulder before standing up straight. ‘Glad I got tha’ sorted then, jes gotta wait fer me’ tits!’ said Saela, as though she had completed some sort of triumphant task.

She chucked and began striding away from Zech, almost proudly. Zech continued to blink slowly and watched as she faded from his view.

What the hell was he supposed to make of that? He didn’t have a clue what any of that stuff involved and if he was honest with himself he didn’t really care. He shrugged a little and wiped some more blood from beneath his nose, he wasn’t going to think about it. He just hoped that it would take Saela a while longer than most women in the village to grow; else he’d be getting jumped in a very different manner than he was used to.

He lifted his head and peered up at the sky, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed with Saela, but it had changed. The colours of the evening sky had faded to be replaced by the grey before the dark revealed itself. He stood up and kicked the stick from the ground, letting it smack against a nearby tree. It was time to go home and find out why his parents were being so strange.

He walked through the village with his hands in his pockets, dry leaves crackling under each footstep, he peered around at the various groups of kids and teenagers, all of which would fight him at the drop of a hat. He shrugged and stared straight forward, he didn’t care about any of them right now. There was always tomorrow to fight them, tonight he had something important.

As he stepped close to his house he saw Kaden and Kalec emerge, leaving the door wide open. Kaden walked towards Zech and grabbed his face with his massive hand, forcing him to the ground painfully. Zech let out a growl as he hit the floor and struggled a little before Kaden released him with a laugh.

‘Have fun in there, kid. I know we did’ he said as he walked away. Kalec looked down at Zech with a smirk as he passed. Zech scrambled to his feet and dashed inside the house, widening his eyes as he peered around what used to be the main room of the house. The table had been smashed in two, the chairs were in pieces and strewn across the floor. He looked around sharply and clenched his hands into fists.

‘Dad? Ma?’ he yelled as he dashed up the stairs, ignoring their loud creaking as he almost stomped on each one. He ignored the door to his room and walked across the hall, pushing the door leading into his parent’s room wide open. His eyes widened once again at the sight before him. He stepped forward and stood over the bloodied corpses of his parents.

He’d got his answer, they had acted strangely and forced him out of the house because they knew this was going to happen, they had forced him out to save his life. He clenched his fists harder, the wound on his left palm beginning to bleed. He ignored the sound of heavy rain beginning to fall, slamming itself almost violently against the boarded up windows. As Zech began to shake violently, the room flashed briefly with the glow of lightning from outside. He knelt down and rested his hand on that of his mother’s and let out the slightest of whimpers.

His connection to his parents had been important to him, they were unlike any others in the village, but they had a soft side to them. They had raised him with all the ideals and duties of a Caan, but they had never treated him badly. Zech had never suffered when they were around; he had an understanding of family.

‘Wha’ abou’ vengeance now, Dad?’ he said quietly as his eyes welled up with tears. ‘Wha’ abou’ now?!’ he yelled as he turned and almost launched himself out of the room and tore across the hall. As he ran down the stairs he found himself growling, this was the first time that Zech Caan had realised he had an ounce of rage.

He ran outside into the storm, listening to the slap of his boots against the soggy ground, his eyes fixed on the figures of Kaden and Kalec in the distance.

‘GET TH’FECK BACK ‘ERE YE PAIR O’ BASTARDS!’ he yelled, a crackle of lightning smashing through the air afterwards, almost as if the sky had replied for them.

Kaden and Kalec turned on the spot as Zech ground to halt a few yards from them, his fists clenched, his eyes no longer filled with tears, but anger.

‘Now there’s a Caan’ said Kaden with a smirk.

‘For the clan’

Part III

Thunder roared across the night sky as the rain continued to pour. Zech stood before Kaden and Kalec with his fists clenched, feeling each drop of rain as though it were a shard of ice. Nothing could pierce the shell of anger that had formed around him, having seen the bodies of his murdered parents, not knowing why such a thing had happened to them, had brought about something new within him.

‘Wha’s a Caan then, o’ migh’y feckin’ leader? We’re na’ even people are we? We’re feckin’ –animals-, th’type tha’ would slaughter it’s own kin! Why are they dead? Why th’feck did ye kill ‘em?’ Zech spoke quietly, though each word was piercing. He looked up at the leaders of his clan, his way of life, his eyes offering them nothing but hatred.

Kaden smirked and stepped forward, before quickly launching his ogre like fist into Zech’s face. He laughed roughly as Zech plummeted to the rain drenched soil beneath him, slamming against it. ‘We ain’ gotta explain nothin’ t’ye, kid. Yer wit’ou’ paren’s now, feckin’ deal wit’ it’ said Kaden as he peered down at the now bleeding Zech. It wasn’t long before Zech climbed to his feet, looking up at Kaden once again as he wiped some blood from his mouth.

‘Not good enough, ye tell me why’ he growled. Kaden frowned heavily at Zech’s words; it wasn’t often that he received disrespect. The fact that a boy with such proof of his heritage as a Caan had come from the softest parents of the village was almost laughable. The boy was something different, something new, and a small piece of Kaden admired it.

‘Kaden, jes feckin’ smack ‘im down ‘til ‘e can’t get up, we’re gatherin’ a crowd ‘ere. We were s’posed t’ave killed ‘em in secret’ said Kalec as he took a step toward his brother, the damp soil squelching beneath his boot. Kaden looked over his shoulder at Kalec’s words, noticing the large gathering of his people behind him.

‘Tell me why, you piece of shit’ growled Zech as he threw the best punch he could at Kaden’s stomach. He let out a yelp as Kaden caught his fist, knocking his legs from beneath him with the sheer force of a kick, his wrist twisting as he hit the ground. Blood launched itself from his mouth as Kaden’s large boot came crashing down on his chest, he watched with narrow eyes as Kaden leant down toward him, keeping pressure on his chest.

‘Ye listen t’me. Ye migh’ as well be a piece o’ shit on me’ shoe, boy, yer th’lowest a Caan can get in this village, yer ‘ere t’die fer people like me. Yer paren’s wan’ed away from tha’, t’escape and take ye wit’ ‘em. We didn’ like it, sa’ they paid th’price fer it’ Kaden spoke quietly, his words almost the hissing of a viper. They wanted to get away? They wanted to run and hide, take him with them?

What sort of life could they ever have led if they’d even managed to escape; there was nothing out there for a Caan.

Kaden pressed down on Zech’s chest once more, before removing his foot and kicking the boy sharply in the side, sneering at the sound of his yelp. As he turned to look at Kalec, he saw his nieces stood behind him. ‘Look, even yer girls wan’ed a look a’ this, s’pose it weren’ a bad lesson fer ‘em’ said Kaden with a smirk, before he peered at the crowd of Caans; he cleared his throat, speaking loudly.

‘Let this be a lesson t’each n’ everyone one o’ ye. Ye live by th’clan, and ye die by th’clan. Yer ‘ere ‘cause yer meant t’be ‘ere, th’world ou’side ain’ one fer any o’ ye! If I get word o’ anyone thinkin’ o’ leavin’, I’ll do t’them wha’ I’ve one t’this kid’s parents!’ said Kaden as he lifted an arm to point behind him at Zech.

‘Now get th’feck back inside, all o’ ye’ll ‘ave somethin’ t’be doin’ tomorrow’ he shouted as he walked away from Zech, patting Kalec’s shoulder as he passed him. Kalec stood and stared at Zech for a moment, before moving with the crowd.

Zech wrapped an arm around his side as he pulled himself from the ground. He grimaced in pain as he stood up shakily, covered in a mesh of rain, mud and blood. He brought a soil-covered hand to his face, wiping blood from his lip and coughed, wincing heavily at the immediate pain shooting down his right side. He’d been a fool for charging at those two and he knew it, but what else was he supposed to do? At least now he had learned exactly what happens to someone that tries to fight them.

His father was right, vengeance suits no man, and vengeance was the tool of an idiot.

--

Zech stepped into his house and kicked of his boots, walking slowly, his breathing sharp, as he made his way towards the stairs. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep tonight, especially knowing that the corpses of his parents were in their room. Right now he had little choice, he had taken a beating and his head was full of thoughts.

He walked up each step with care; no creaking could be hurt at all. If he were his usual self, he would have smirked at the thought of the stairs making noise when he was angry, but he couldn’t bring himself to crack even the slightest of grins. He reached the landing with a thud, falling flat on his face. This was what a Caan was, what each and every one of them had in store for them. This was the life he would have to live, there was no way he could ever get out and nothing for him beyond the dense and twisted woods that surrounded the village.

He twitched on the floor at the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs, but found himself unable to get up. ‘Zech?’ came a quiet voice, definitely from a girl. ‘Zech, are ye ‘ere? Y’weren’ at yer usual spot’ said the voice. The girl ran up the stairs and sighed heavily at the sight of Zech on the floor, flat on his face. ‘Good thin’ ye got inside before ye decided t’fall over, wouldn’ wanna make an arse o’ yerself, would ye?’ said Saela as she knelt down and lifted him from the floor. Zech grumbled as she helped him into his room and sat him on his bed.

‘Feck sake, yer covered in mud y’know’ she said as she looked at him, her hands on her hips. Zech looked up in disbelief, she might have been the closest thing to a friend he had in the village, but her passion for stating the obvious often hurt his head.
‘I sorta noticed’ he said as he rubbed his side. ‘Weren’ exactly nice n’ sunny out, was it-‘ he continued, though found himself rudely interrupted by Saela trying to pull his vest off. ‘Th’feck ye doin’!’ he said as Saela laughed while doing her best to remove the vest. ‘S’covered in mud, ye can’t lay down wit’ tha’ on, can ye?’ she said amongst her laughter, eventually managing to remove the vest from the struggling Zech.

Saela stepped forward and pushed Zech back a little and looked at his side, she frowned a little at the dark bruising that had already formed across the boy’s ribs. They had a strange little friendship, and she thought Zech was possibly the weirdest boy she’d met in the village, but he was good. She wanted something a little different in a friend.

She looked up to see Zech’s face twisted into a look of sadness, his hands resting on his thighs, almost limp. She contemplated trying to bring up the subject of his thinking too much again, but even for her it was obvious what he was thinking about. Her dad and her uncle had killed his parents, there was nothing she could say or joke about to make it better.

Hesitantly she straightened up and lifted his legs and placed them on the bed. As she laid his head against the torn pillow he slept on, she couldn’t help but feel a pinch of sadness herself. She wasn’t used to this sort of thing, she was a rough girl and always had been. This was a moment where she couldn’t use anything she normally would to improve the situation. She climbed over him and onto the bed, before very slowly and almost fearfully laying down, placing her cheek on his chest and wrapping an arm around him.

This is how normal folk comforted each other, right? She thought so.