His young muscles strained as he brought the hammer down on the piece of metal over and over. Sweat poured from his brow as he worked until he was satisfied, and submerged it in a bucket of water. A soft growl slipped from his lips as he returned it to the furnace to reheat and continue his work. He clenched his teeth as the rage built within him. At last, the metal writhed and twisted into an unusable mass.
With an uttered curse, he threw the metal aside. He dragged a sooty, sweaty arm across his brow. He removed his gloves and slapped them across the anvil. Growling, the youth spun on his heels and stalked toward the side yard where he watched an older man work through a series of elegant and graceful movements that flowed one into the next.
As with the metal, the youth finally shouted out a curse.
The man finished his movements, offered a graceful bow to the unseen opponent, and turned to face the youth. “Yes, my boy? What has you so upset?”
He balled up his fists. “I’m done doing your work for you, old man. I won’t touch another piece of metal until you teach me properly.”
A slight smile turned up his graying mustache as he raised a salt and pepper eyebrow. “You haven’t done any work for me yet, my boy. I’ve seen the metal you’ve discarded.”
His dark eyes flared. He muscles in his jaw twitched. Curses in every language he knew rolled from the youth’s lips.
The older man shifted his weight to his back foot and folded his arms over his chest. He waited, silent and patient.
At last, the youth stood before him, thoroughly deflated.
“How many times must I tell you before you’ll believe me, my boy?” the older man asked. “You cannot allow your rage to control you. It will always end badly, if you do.”
With another growl and uttered curse, the youth spun on his heels, stormed out of the property, and down the crowded street. He bumped into several individuals before slamming hard into a large, solid form. Another growl and uttered curse followed an angry glare.
“What did you say, boy?” the burly man demanded.
The youth stumbled several steps down an alley. He found his only exit blocked by the large warrior.
The big man drew a pair of long swords. He had them spinning in intricate pattern as he advanced on the youth.
With a curse and a shout, flames leapt from the youth’s open palms. He lunged forward, gracefully dodged the blades, and grabbed the man’s forearms with a scream.
The man stumbled back with a startled shout and dropped his weapons. His garments went up in flames. After flailing wildly, he fell to his knees and dropped to his face. The fire went out beneath his girth and a weak, whimpering groan slipped from his lips.
A stifled cry escaped the youth and he stumbled off into the flow of traffic. Curses and shouts from the big man’s companions followed after him.
He awoke with a start. Sounds downstairs brought him to full awareness. As he entered the dining room, two figures bolted out the front door. A soft groan drew his attention to the form laying near the cooking stove.
“No,” he protested, grabbed a cloth, and tried to stem the bleeding.
The man placed a firm hand squarely on the youth’s chest. He muttered a phrase in his native tongue. A final breath escaped him and his hand fell to the floor.
Daylight and voices brought him groaning to consciousness.
“What happened?” demanded a powerful, magically enhanced voice.
“I got into a fight yesterday,” he mumbled, “and hurt a man. His companions sought revenge and killed my uncle.”
After several long minutes, the priest placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
The World of Terra 