The Testament of Lukar

Chapter Sixteen

The overseers rode through the fields, the night air thick with tension. In the distance, they spotted a slave struggling to carry a water jug, droplets spilling onto the ground. Lukar's immediate instinct was to dismount and assist, but Jed's firm grip on his arm held him back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jed sneered. "They're not struggling. They're just being lazy."

Jed cracked his whip, the sharp sound echoing through the night. The startled slave straightened up immediately. Lukar, still jolted by the unexpected noise, glanced at Micah, who chuckled at his reaction.

"Get off your horse, farm boy," Micah ordered, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Lukar dismounted, feeling a mix of confusion and unease. Micah and Jed stood before him, asking a question that seemed to hang in the night air: "Are you a slave or a man?"

Lukar, his voice steady, responded, "I'm a man."

With that, the teasing escalated. Micah and Jed shoved him, their taunts intensifying. Lukar, feeling the anger rise within him, decided to fight back. The shoving turned into a brawl, the three of them exchanging blows in the dim moonlight. Lukar, unsure of the rules of this game, fought with a mix of desperation and determination.

Jed landed a solid hit on Lukar's jaw, sending him spinning. Micah laughed, goading Lukar to retaliate. Lukar swung back, connecting with Jed's jaw in a satisfying blow. However, Jed, fueled by adrenaline, retaliated fiercely. Lukar fought back, but Jed's swift kick to his stomach brought him to the ground.

Lying there, Lukar feared he had lost more than just a physical battle. Yet, to his surprise, Jed reached down and pulled him up, a strange sense of approval in his eyes.

"Good lad," Jed grunted. "Do you get it now?" The question hung in the air, leaving Lukar to ponder the implications of his actions in the uncertain night.

As they parted ways, Lukar made his way back to the slave quarters. The moonlight cast shadows on the farm, and the night seemed unusually quiet after the rowdy time at the overseers' cabin. Lukar entered the quarters, acknowledging the faint sounds of sleep from the other occupants. The familiar, humble surroundings of the slave quarters provided a stark contrast to the revelry he had experienced with the overseers.

Keelan sat quietly, waiting for Lukar to return. As he entered the room, she looked up, concern etched across her face. Lukar, sensing her worry, questioned her presence.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She sighed, "I wanted to make sure you made it home safely."

Lukar chuckled, "I'm not a child, Keelan. I don't need you to baby me."

Her defense was swift, "I'm not babying you. I'd do the same for any of them if they were out doing dangerous things."

Lukar sighed in response, shaking his head. "It's not dangerous. We were just having some drinks and messing around most of the day."

"What do you take me for, Lukar? I know you better than that," she retorted, her voice stern. Lukar chuckled.

She approached him, scrutinizing the bruises on his face. Lukar attempted to argue that such things were normal among men, but Keelan wasn't buying into that skewed definition of normalcy.

"You don't get bruises like this from just messing around," she asserted.

Lukar, defensive, insisted, "You do as a man. Women wouldn't understand."

Unconvinced, Keelan raised her hand, and before Lukar could react, a sharp slap echoed in the room. It wasn't out of anger, but to jolt some sense into him.

Stunned into silence, Lukar listened as Keelan declared, "You may think this is what men do, Lukar, but it doesn't make it right. There's strength in restraint and wisdom in avoiding unnecessary violence."

Lukar, taken aback, managed an apology. Keelan sighed, her demeanor softening. She took a cloth and began to clean Lukar's face, her touch gentle yet firm. As she worked, she continued to express her concerns.

"I want you to be free, Lukar, but not at the cost of your morality and sense of justice. There's more strength in standing up for what's right than in succumbing to the violence around you."

Lukar remainedsilent, the weight of Keelan's words sinking in. In the dimly lit room, beneaththe flickering glow of a solitary candle, Lukar grappled not only with thephysical aftermath of the night but with the deeper implications of hisactions.