The Story of the Vampire, L (Completed | Featured )

Part 8 - Come Closer, Lips

In the cool breeze of evening, I sat with half-lidded eyes on a stone bench. From my vantage, there was a view of the hills. At a short distance, Iovita taught the children to use a wooden sword. He touched and straightened Escha as if teaching him how to dance. Iovita took a few steps away and stretched his arms out, level with his shoulders. Escha imitated him.

"Balance your weight on your right hip," Iovita scolded. "You have to be able to roll your hips so that there's a fluid transfer of weight, Escha. If there's no weight behind your blow you may as well be unarmed." 

Escha nodded, determined. 

One of the other boys, Cassius, said something, mocking Escha. He made a motion as if tossing something, weakly. 

I rose and closed the distance, extended my hand for the sword, which Iovita gave me without a word. I cleared my throat and the little one stood at attention, my Escha, eyes pointed straight ahead. 

"Balance," I said, gently. "Your sword is already balanced. If something should happen, it is you who must be ready. The sword is ready always." I bent and tapped his lower back with the back of my hand, so that he would push out his chest. "There, now you are more flexible. It is not enough to be as good as the other man. You must move in ways he can't anticipate. Train your body."

"Yes, master," he said, quietly. "I will." 

The gentle breeze blew through his wild hair, and his chin was tipped up, eyes cast upwards, distracted by the sky.

"If your body is strong, then no man can hurt you. Discipline yourself," I said, tipping his chin back down.

"I will," he said, though his body leaned toward mine, wanting to be held.  

In the doorway there was Nataniellus, looking tired. He motioned for me to come, fingers stroking the air. 

Escha saw it, and met my eyes. 

"Feet together," I told him.

He moved. His feet were bare in the dirt.

"The practiced body is elegant. It hides its power in beauty. Arms over your head. Stretch up."

The other boys had taken to the ground, relaxing and talking. Iovita stood off, as if on watch, arms crossed behind his back. Escha focused, stretching, standing on the balls of his feet. 

"Point yourself at the sky. Turn out your palms."

He imitated me, concentrating, little features troubled.

"Feet at shoulder-width. Now bring your arms level. Your hands touch air. This is air that has traveled long. It has touched all other hands, and now yours," I said. "This wind returns to you from your birth, and all time. The same wind will be present at the hour of your death, as it is present at all deaths. However for this moment, there is only now. Control your breath." I touched his hands as he began to tip over. "Now you are balanced."

He stood still, frozen in the moment, seven years old, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. I took his head in my hands and kissed his hair. 

"Someday, you will be grateful for their mockery, little one. You will be the stronger for it."

Escha held onto my face with delicate fingers. 

"What do you say?" Iovita asked, back turned, though listening.

"Thank you," Escha said, still holding on. His hands smelled like flower petals, from ripping up the garden. I tapped his back and he let go.

But then I reconsidered, and knelt, and put my face close to his, and he smiled. He swept my black hair away from my forehead, and it fell back again.