The Walker

15 years ago...

Walker watched, grudgingly impressed, as the boy knocked all the cans down again.

He turned to Walker , smiling arrogantly. “Did it again, old man. I’d bet I’m a better shot than you.”

Walker laughed out loud at this, remembering. He collected his gun from the boy and holstered it at his hip.

The lad watched him carefully. Nearly as tall as Walker now, he no longer had to crane his neck or stand on tip toes for them to be eye to eye.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You have some way to go lad, before you’re on par with me. Michael, though... ”

“Michael?” he asked immediately. “Who’s Michael?”

Walker paused, reflecting. It couldn’t hurt for the boy to know. He was 15, nearly a man grown. “He was... a friend. We trained together. In the Order.”

The lad’s eyes lit up; he always wanted to know more about the Order. He moved closer to Walker, and he noticed again the boy’s size; far broader than he had been himself at that age. The lad would be big, bigger than Walker.

“That’s when you trained as a philosopher, isn’t it?”

Walker nodded. “Correct. He was a little younger than me, but as good as me in every respect, aside from shooting. Well,” Walker added ruefully, removing his hat and scratching his dirty brown hair, “He was always better at close quarters than me. Could put you on your arse in three moves.”

He laughed again at the memories, “Even though I was bigger than him. Every damned time.”

The boy shook his head. “You didn’t try hard enough, if a man smaller than you beat you in fighting. He should have been better at the learning, writing, and things like that.”

Walker studied his young companion. He had the cocky headstrong sensibilities common in boys his age; an inconvenience few got over properly. He replaced his hat, and stepped towards his ward. “Why do you think that, lad?”

The boy scratched at the dusting of stubble on his chin. “Well, since you have the same training, and being of similar ages, you surely had the advantage. The size, the power. Brute strength. It doesn’t make sense that a man, trained the same way as you, could beat you by being smaller and weaker.”

Walker nodded; the boy had sound logic, but lacked tactical practice, as well as practical tactics; something easily remedied.

“So, you think that power comes from size, brute force and sheer strength? Come then, a new lesson for you.”

He turned away from the low wall of the farm the boy had been shooting at, and climbed easily over the battered fence that bordered the field behind them. The boy followed, vaulting the fence, landing next to Walker.

“So, you’re going to teach me more moves?”

Walker shook his head. “No lad, you know all the moves. This is going to be about thinking.”

The boy slumped his shoulders and moaned. “We already did my writing today, I can read anything you show me, and I never mistake my grammar, unless trying to convince someone I’m a fool. What thinking can you teach me aside from that?”

Walker removed his hat and cloak, laying his book pack reverently upon the outstretched cloth, to protect it from the dust and grim of the field. He flexed, little pops answering from his chest; his armour needed a little work done, but the lifting plate at his back hissed coolly, still working fine. He grinned at the lad.

“Come, then. You’re of a size that I can fight you and not worry about hurting you too much. Try and hit me.”

The boy licked his lips hungrily. Walker noted, with some scorn, that the martial aspects of his training had always intrigued the boy more than the intellectual.

“You’re sure?” the boy asked.

Before Walker could answer, the boy had lashed out, lightning fast, bringing his left arm close to Walker’s face. Walker slipped sideways, to the boy’s right, and tapped him in the gut, knocking the wind from him. The lad collapsed amongst the sparse weeds, spluttering.

“Good idea, trying to distract me. I thought you might,” grinned Walker. “Come on, get up. That was a baby tap.”

The boy clambered to his feet, glowering at Walker, who continued to grin amiably. He sprang towards Walker, feigning with his right and bringing a boot up towards Walker’s groin. Again, Walker moved faster, palming the boot away, slapping the boy across the cheek, causing him to lose balance and fall once again to the ground.

Walker laughed, sharply. “Boy, what happened? Come at me, properly, with all your strength. Show me what you—“

The boy launched himself at Walker, arms reaching up towards his throat. Walker grasped his arms and twisted himself down, as the boy rose over him. He flipped him easily on to the ground, where he proceeded to sit on him. The boy struggled underneath his weight, fruitlessly trying to wriggle free.

“Do you know why I won so easily, boy?” he asked pleasantly.

The boy, red faced and furious, spat curses up at his tormenter, as Walker rolled himself a cigarette. “You’re bigger than me!” the boy growled, “And you know all the moves, you taught me them, damn it!”

Walker casually leant down and cuffed him roughly over the head. “Now, you know how I feel about swearing. No, you failed because you only used your strength, and then you got angry.” Walker lit his roll up, and inhaled. “Whilst I, despite me clearly being stronger than you, used none of that strength against you. You need to think more, boy.”

He treated the boy to another wallop about the head, before allowing the boy to catch his breath, and continued. “All I did was use your weaknesses. It’s not enough to just go all out, all of the time. Strength will only take you so far. Much better to exploit an enemy’s weaknesses. Which, if I’m honest, you had plenty of.”

He chuckled and collected his hat and pack from the ground, before dusting off his cloak and fastening it beneath the clasp on his chest plate.

The lad turned angrily and stormed up to him, so they were face to face. “That’s not fair! No wonder I lost.”

Walker stared impassively back through his visor. “I never said I wouldn’t use your weaknesses. You knew that I’m bigger than you, and smarter than you. You did try a couple of clever tricks, of which I am impressed, slightly. But you got angry, and let me see every single move you would attempt. The flip,” he exhaled, “Was all you.”

The boy spluttered again, outraged, “But you’re the teacher, how can that be fair?”

Walker ruffled his hair condescendingly, “What better way to teach than by example?” He called behind him as he strolled down the hill. “When you learn these lessons, and I hope you do, you’ll be able to win. Think! Don’t just act!”

The boy called back, “What kind of Philosopher cheats, on purpose? A coward cheats. Real Philosophers wouldn’t have to cheat, or lie. They could just win.”

Walker stopped and sighed. The boy had more to learn than he’d thought.

He turned to face the furious lad, “Why would a man, clever enough to outsmart his opponent, choose to waste time and energy on a ‘victory’ by any other means? I haven’t been teaching you just to read books, boy. It’s about reading people.

“A kind word here, a commanding voice there. It’s about reading the situation. You wouldn’t use a sledge hammer to repair a pistol, would you? Now come.”

The boy came down the hill, sullenly kicking at rocks and glaring at the floor.

Walker softened slightly. “If you learn these lessons properly, you may find yourself a place with the Order.”

The boy’s head shot up, “Really?”

Walkers’ mouth smiled at him from below his visor. “Really.” He lied.