Path of the Tiger, стр. 465

‘But, but how can you say tha’?’ William gasped, sitting up straight and adopting somewhat of an indignant tone. ‘Captain Liversage was a damned fine gentleman! One ay the finest I’ve e’er met, I’ll have you know! You cannae insinuate tha’ he was nowt but a thug an’ a murderer! I’m sorry, but you dunnae have the right tae say that, no right at all … guru ji.’

The man flashed William a look of sympathy before replying.

‘I’m sorry, cub. Perhaps I did not choose my wording as carefully as I may have. Please understand, I did not mean to imply that your Captain Liversage was a murderer or a thug. In fact, I’m quite sure that he likely had noble intentions in his heart. As did you, no doubt, in your desire to be promoted and make a career out of the army. I’m sure that you genuinely believed that you were doing the right thing by fighting in battles, by killing enemy soldiers – as did your captain. But you must also understand that to see the actions of armies and of soldiers from the outside, with a mind that has been truly opened and bleached of the cultural pollutants that foul almost all mortal minds – when your mind reaches such a stage, you simply cannot see acts of violence, committed in whatever name, as anythingbut base brutalities, and the participants who commit such things as brutes themselves. But please know, cub, that in saying this I pass no judgment on you personally, and nor do I pass it on your captain.’

‘All right guru ji, if you say so,’ William said uncertainly.

‘You will learn more of these things in time, cub.’

‘Why do you keep calling me tha’? You didnae answer me about tha’.’

A mysterious smile spread across the man’s face, crinkling the crow’s feet around his eyes with its cheeky mischief, and opening up a sinkhole dimple in his rough cheek.

‘You’re about to find out,’ he murmured.

Suddenly a searing pain rocketed through William’s body, setting every nerve-ending aflame and pouring liquid-metal agony over every square centimetre of his skin. He fell to the floor, howling as the pain pulsed its crippling intensity through every one of his limbs, tunnelling its barbed-wire drill-bits through every muscle, all the way to the tip of every extremity.

‘I’m sorry,’ he heard the man say, his voice sounding distant and distorted through the terrible agony. ‘This will hurt the first few times. There is no way around that. True transformation can only be achieved through pain, through immense pain, and a shedding of one’s old skin…’

William arched his back and shrieked with agony as all of his muscles contracted to the point of tearing, and it truly seemed as if his skin were being flayed off inch by horrifying inch. He felt the man removing the necklace with Aurora’s portrait from his neck, and he managed to gasp a feeble protest through the awful agony.

‘No, please,’ he gasped, ‘dunnae take tha’ … take anything … but tha’…’

‘If I do not remove it it will be destroyed. You will see why when you awaken.’

Every bone in William’s body felt as if it were straining beneath the weight of a hundred tons of stone, and every muscle seemed to be on the verge of bursting into tattered shreds. William’s lungs felt as if they had collapsed, and he could no longer breathe.

‘I’ll see you when you wake up, cub. Try to not fight the feeling, as difficult as that may be.’

With those words ringing in his mind, William felt a heavy, crunching darkness fold a thick cloak over his eyes and mind, and with that he plunged into a sticky tar-pit of suffocating unconsciousness.

He could not tell how much time had passed by the time he woke up, but he did realise at once that something about himself was very different. He was lying on the floor, where he had passed out, but the stone tiles did not feel as cold as they should have against his bare skin. He felt as healthy, energetic and lively as he had prior to the strange attack of pain that had caused him to pass out – and, in fact, he felt even more healthy and energetic than he perhaps ever had in his life. In addition to these feelings, an innate sensation that he had never before possessed was radiating an addictive heat from his core; power and strength flowed through him, present in immense quantities.

As his senses started to analyse his surroundings, he heard breathing. The way he heard this breathing, however, was unlike anything he had ever before experienced. The sound was crisp and utterly clear, to the point where he could almost hear the bones of the man’s ribcage creaking as his chest rose and fell with every breath. He could discern the slight, almost imperceptible whistle of the air as it flowed in and out of the man’s mouth and nose, and the barely perceptible rustling of the hairs inside his nostrils, disturbed by the ceaseless passage of air. The man’s heart was thumping a calm but immensely loud rhythm inside his chest, and William could almost hear the surges of blood that the organ was forcing through the man’s veins and arteries.

The sensory overload was incredible, and almost unbearable in its intensity. From the window came the sound of the river, rushing along its rocky course miles below, yet the gurgling and bubbling of the water sounded as clear as if it were running through the room itself. An eagle’s piercing cry echoed through the room, and William jerked his head toward the window, expecting to see the bird perched on the sill – yet there was nothing. Then, out in the far distance, he saw the bird circling in great gyres in the sky. Once more it cried out, and he heard it as clearly as if it were