Cal lugged buckets of water up a mountain under Scar's supervision. The metal handles dug into his hands. Veins crossed his exposed arms as he struggled with their weight. There was a weight pressing down his back that made it hard for him to breathe, but he resisted the need to hunch over and climbed steadily upward, keeping his spine straight. His legs burned from the incline. He took even breaths as he dodged maple trees, oak trees, cedar, Western Hemlocks, and Douglas firs. Beams of sunlight streamed through the thick canopy of leaves as they marched along the brown dirt. He imagined he was a cricket perched on a leaf. Light. Almost weightless. Quick. It made the journey less painful. Birds chirped and flew over their heads. They climbed over some grey rocks, Scar faster than Cal as he carried nothing but a gun in a holster at his waist.
Cal placed the buckets on a smooth surface of rock then pulled himself up after them. He was starting to pant, but his journey was almost finished. A pond made from melted snow and March's rain covered the ground in front of them. It carried the stink of stagnant water churned with mud; algae floated on its surface. He added his buckets of water to the mix. His arms seemed to float upwards due to the lightened load he was carrying.
Scar checked his watch. "Not bad, but the trip up was three minutes slower than last time."
They climbed back down the rocks, Cal's buckets banging behind him. Their feet mushed the soil as they made their descent. Scar lit a cigarette, took a slow drag then blew out a cloud of smoke. He said, "If you want a shot at winning the Relar Games, you can't stay here. Our school is ill-equipped, the teachers are tradesmen, not specialists. You want a shot at the big bucks, you get into a private academy. They have excellent teachers. Their training prepares you mentally and physically. Their instructors know their subjects thoroughly; they don't just recite shit out an old textbook."
"How do I get into one?"
"You're going to need a proper job."
"Where? Who would hire a kid like me?" Cal didn't see how he could do something like that. He was twelve years old with no official address and no prior professional experience. Officially, you had to be at least 16 to work, but there were exceptions made if you worked for your parents or created your own company.
Scar said, "You're young. Eager. You could get some work as a janitor in the city. If you apply to Genco— a top-class cleaning company, they have about ten boys sleeping on separate bunks in every room. Most of them work illegally without proper documentation and the manager pays a small fee to the cops to get them stay quiet. Plus, the manager knows a lot of politicians that will protect his ass if he gets into any legal trouble. You'll be alright there—it won't be for long. It's a starting point. Everyone's all packed together like peanuts in a can. It's not pleasant, but you can make a decent amount and buy yourself some good clothes.
"I know you're a smart guy, so once you get some brand name clothes, you can offer to teach some rich kids. Lie about your age. Say you're sixteen or so; imitate how older boys walk, how they talk, practice until it becomes believable. Now, tutoring will pay you more. With that, you can pay for schooling."
It sounded like a great plan. The village school didn't have enough guns, or swords for the students to practice with. The textbooks were old; the pages wrinkled with some of the text faded. Once their teacher had read something from a textbook, frowned, reread it, then said, 'Whatever that means,' and skipped to the next part without properly explaining the part that had stumped him.
Scar said, "You stay here, and you'll rot like all the fucking rest of us. Like Raheim. Maybe he would be alive today if he had proper guidance. It would be a shame to see that happen to you too. You're bright, smart, and a talented swordsman, I don't want you to shrivel up and die here."
Cal thought it over then said, "My ma will cry if I go."
"Women always cry. It's second nature to them. After a while, those tears become meaningless." He ruffled Cal's hair and stepped over a protruding tree trunk. "But you have to leave home if you want to give her a better life. You got no dad, you're the only one who can go out there and make a proper living to support them. In the city, employers treat women, especially poor women like shit. They would make a woman work without paying her and make up some excuse to get away with it. The worst part is lawyers support the shitty employers. You have to leave and do this for them. Your ma will understand."
***
Cal found his ma, sitting on her sleeping bag, patching someone's shirt with a needle and a thread. She smiled at his entrance and said, "There's my little boy. Handsome as ever." She was a tall, slender lady with bright red hair pulled into a messy bun. Her green eyes studied him appreciatively.
She said, "What's the matter, Cal? Thinking about Raheim? I'm sure he's much happier where he is now. He doesn't need you moping and feeling sorry for him."
Cal sat next to her; she kissed his forehead. She knew him best; she could tell he was down even if he tried his best not to show it.
"Ma," Cal started hesitantly. He wasn't quite sure how to break the news to her. He knew his destiny lay outside of this small village. He knew that there were better things out there if he reached for them. Leaving his family and friends would be a minor setback, but they would all make it through alright.
His mother's calloused fingers continued to sew.
After taking a moment to collect himself, he worked up enough courage to say, "Ma, I'm leaving. I'm going to get a job in Langley, start from the bottom and work my way up till I can pay my way through a proper school. The teachers here are no good; they don't know what they are teaching."
His ma lowered her stitching. Her shoulders sagged as she spoke in a tired voice, "First, your father left, and now you want to go too."
"I'll come back; I'll write letters. I need to earn money, but we can't keep living like this. This isn't what I want for us."
"What's wrong with living like this?"
"We are centuries behind the other cities, ma. We shit in outhouses. We wash and bathe in a river. Don't you want something more? Don't want to sleep in a nice, comfortable, heated room in winter? Don't you want to put your legs up on a coffee table and watch some TV after a long day at work? Shower with warm water?"
His ma said, "We survive fine as we are."
"Yes, we survive. But we can do better. I have dreams; I want a better life for you and my sisters. Please believe in me. I won't ask for money or anything else. All I ask is for you to believe in me and my dreams."
His ma held the sides of his face, her hardened skin brushed his soft cheeks. She pressed her forehead against his. "You have always been such a good kid. Better than anything I could have dreamed of having. I don't want to lose you," a sob broke her voice.
"I'll come back, I promise, but I have to go."
"I can't change your mind, huh? Promise me you'll be safe."
"I promise." He hugged her, taking her skinny body into his arms.
***
The following evening, Cal kissed his mother and sisters goodbye outside their home. Scar waited nearby, holding the reigns of a sturdy rust coloured mare. Its black mane blew in the breeze.
It broke Cal's heart to part with his family, but he didn't see any other way. This place thrived on trading; there was no real chance to gain economic prosperity. His little sister, Anya sobbed. Her tiny fists rubbed her red eyes. He got down on one knee and took out a smooth pebble. He placed it in her hand and said, "Whenever you are in trouble. You squeeze that rock really hard and call out to me. I'll run across the heavens and earth to get to you." He covered her small hands with his.
Her shoulders continued to jerk, but she bit her lip in an attempt to stop crying. He wiped her tears with his thumb. "I love you and always will; you know that, don't you?"
"Mhm. Mhm."
"So why are you crying?"
As snot dripped down her nose, she said, "B-because I don't want you to go." He cleaned her face with a handkerchief he kept in his pocket. He was wearing his best clothes to make a good impression on his future boss. A blue dress-shirt with a black tie and black slacks.
He said, "But I have to go so you can have a better life. I'll come back with lots of presents."
Her lower lip trembled, and a new wave of tears streaked her damp cheeks. He gave her one last kiss. "Look after Mom, Rachel and Abby while I'm gone."
She nodded.
Scar got on the horse first. Cal wore a canvas bag that held some food, clothes, and a novel to read if he got bored while he was on the train. The rope handles wrapped around his shoulders. His mother gave him a bear hug. When she finally let go after he promised to stay safe, and write at least once a week, he kissed Rachel and Abby on the cheek. The twins were small and vulnerable, their heads bobbed at their mother's waist. Their faces were moist with tears though they didn't understand the importance of the journey he was taking or its dangers. They cried because Anya and their mother cried.
Scar said, "We've got to leave now if you want to catch your train."
Cal walked over to the horse and used the stirrup to get on its back. When he was seated safely in the saddle behind Scar, Scar tugged the reigns, and the mare started off at a light pace. The nylon and cotton homes flashed by as villagers moved out of the horse's way. Cal felt his heart burst with excitement as the horse's hooves trampled green grass, and he left his past behind him. He held onto Scar's waist as he tried not to fall out the saddle.
Ahead of them, the sun peaked above the mountains to the north, covering the trees in its warm light. A few wisps of clouds swept the sky. The heat baked Cal's skin, but he was finally on his way to achieving his dreams. He grinned.
***