The Lion of Eomar by Eric K, Hasler (sight word books .TXT) 📕

Even though he wanted to stay with her he said, “I'll stay in the south-eastern district,” mainly because he was a little shocked at her quick change of tone. After a moment of staring into one another's eyes hoping that the other one would complain and claim that it would be wiser to stay together, they pulled their eyes from one another to notice that The Watch had started to appear at the five pillars. They were dressed in the standard flamboyant attire; the dark blue breastplates, that had the yellow embossment of Dazbog on the chest, which contrasted horribly with the sleeves of the bright red uniform shirts underneath, made them hard not to see. With five of The Watch per gap between each pillar, they encircled the city centre and cudgels in their hands, they started pushing people, the poor out from the centre, and the wealthy pushed into the centre. One of the poor managed to squeeze by without attracting the attention of The Watch. He had greyish white hair, and a long scraggly beard, which must have seen better days. He wore dirty greyish-brown sackcloth that looked as if it had been thrown together from pieces of old coal mining sacks. He forced his way through towards the shrine, causing the wealthy to groan, moan, and jump back with repulsion. The closer he got to the shrine the louder the complaints, “get out of here scum,” “Dazbog hates people like you!”

The commotion was really starting to catch fire, when from the Western pillar Seastnan strode out into the throng, pushing anyone aside, and shouting abuse at those who complained. Six of the Watch followed him dragging two bound men behind. The crowd started to grow quite as Seastnan climbed the wooden structure, followed by the Watch and the prisoners. He raised his hands towards the sun and shouted, “Dazbog, have mercy on Eomar; the city built to glorify you!” The silence of the crowd at this point was overwhelming; you could have heard a grasshopper fart.

“We have found two faithful men,” continued Seastnan with a big smile, “who will sacrifice themselves as witness to the faithfulness of the inhabitants of your city...” “Oh faithless people of Eomar,” interrupted the sack wearing, scraggly haired, bearded man, with a very loud, poetic, and authoritative voice. “Repent of your false god worship, and come back to The Great One, who wishes only to give all of you prosperity.” The crowd laughed, and shouted abuse at the man as he climbed up the five steps leading to the shrine. “People starve, while others sit in the lap of luxury. The sacrifice of life to appease Dazbog will result in judgement. Your effrontery is an impingement, which turns your worship into idolatry. Prepare for astonishment, as one rises to bring punishment. To destroy utterly those who worship in adultery.” The crowd laughed loudly and then as if on cue, started shouting, “Dazbog is God! Dazbog is God! Dazbog is God!”

“Silence!” shouted Seastnan who had started to stalk back and forth across the wooden platform.

“We all know about prosperity because we have lived in it for so long!” The central crowd cheered. “Our great King Ruskin has bled for you,” continued Seastnan, “to give you everything you desire. He does this with the blessing of Dazbog. So we gather here every day to show the God of Eomar and our King how much we appreciate their guidance in these terrible and testing times. Dazbog knows the troubles of his city, he sees everything, and he communicates to Ruskin the best way to handle the problems. This is why we have faithful men, like these two behind me, who are willing to sacrifice theselves to Dazbog in appreciation for what he is doing through our God ordained King, Ruskin.” The crowd in the centre cheered, while the crowd of poor on the outside hissed and booed. Seastnan turned to the watchmen who were holding the prisoners “bring the animals here,” he said sharply and softly. With the prisoners on either side of him Seastnan continued, “The Great Dazbog will absolve all the law-breaking these men have done, and in the process will show mercy to all who live in Eomar with greater prosperity than can be imagined.” The inner crowd erupted with elation from the words, while the outer crowd groaned at the idea of the rich continuning to get richer, and the poor continuing to be sacrificed.

Lucaresha stared at the prisoners, her eyes wide, her lips started moving in a way that could be mistaken for trembling, her fists clenched, “I hope that old man preaching judgement was right,” she said.

“Yeah, same here,” replied Bodwin “I think however, we should maybe take the same steps as Raguel.”

Lucaresha looked at him, sniffed twice, and said, “I'm not so sure about that. But, well... can we at least meet up tomorrow; it would be encouraging to know that you weren't caught.”

He turned and looked at her, took hold of her right hand, gave it a little squeeze and smiled, “I would like that.”

She turned her head towards the platform, “me too,” she said then sniffed twice. “Are those prisoners...”

“Yes,” interrupted Bodwin sadly.

“Well, what happened to Lyra?” she asked 'I can't stand the girl, and yet...' her thoughts trailed off as Bodwin said, “She was carried off to the Brothel of The Watch.”

She spun her head towards him and stared, “I hope by the gods that I don't get caught! I can't stand the idea of those animals pleasuring themslevs on me!”

“Oh Great Dazbog,”shouted Seastnan, “we offer to you these two men as a sign of our faith in you. Have mercy.” Nicon and Cilix were both forced into position and two of the looped ropes hanging from the cross beam were placed around their necks, and pulled tight. Cilix started trembling and shouted, “Mercy, mercy!” Seastnan smiled and spoke in a loud voice, “It's all right, son. Dazbog hears you and has provided the mercy you desire.” Cilix turned towards Seatnan hoiked up a mouthful of phlegm and spat on him, then turned back to the worshippers and shouted, “This is idiocy! Dazbog knows not what mercy is! He is not a God...” Seastnan interrupted the speech by roughly pushing both men through the gap beneath the crossbeam; they fell together. Nicon managed to spin to his left and look at Cilix before the rope tightened around his neck. Cilix, the heavier of the two, fell slightly faster, and when the rope tightened with the weight, Cilix's body continued downwards until it hit the cobblestones. His head fell a moment after bouncing off the body, and then rolled towards the cheering crowd with an arch like crimson fountain sparying all in its path.

With the rope tight around his neck, slowly strangling him, Nicon looked at the decapitated body of his friend lying on the cobblestones, quickly becoming immersed in the scarlet pool pumping from the stump where Cilix's head had been. 'Oh God, oh God' he thought to himself as his legs started to kick. His body starting to bounce from the force of his legs kicking. 'Cilix was right,' he thought 'Dazbog is fake. No mercy shown here.' He struggled to continue with the kicking as his body started to contort, cramping into weird angles in a futile attempt to free itself. 'Oh God, this is it' he thought, 'Oh God, help me!' His eyes darting left and right, looking for help but all he saw was Dazbog worshippers praising the sun for the sacrifice. 'This isn't a sacrifice,' he thought, 'The is murder.' His legs stopped kicking, he knew this was the end, 'Oh Great One, where are you?'

HERE said a voice that sounded similar to water flowing over rocks, similar to wind through trees, to a cascade of leaves blown by the wind through a dirty alleyway; a gentle, calm voice, and yet a voice that sounded authoritative, a voice that you would not want to annoy. As the last of his life drifted away, he smiled with the knowledge that he was finally free from this tyrannical city. Then his bowels released, a little brown river trickled down the inside of his pants and dripped from his toes onto the cobblestones mixing with the scarlet pool, creating a horrific smell oozing up from the liquid picture that exposed this bloody sacrifice as nothing more than religious crap.

Lucaresha's mouth hung open. Bodwin's eyes were wide. The poor outside the centre were silent, while those in the centre were ecstatic, shouting their praises to Dazbog. Lucaresha shuddered and squeezed Bodwin's hand. He turned to look at her as she said, “I would prefer to die like that, than die a hundred times a day in the brothel!” She sniffed twice and Bodwin shuddered, not at her sniffing, or at her words, but the sincerity. 'She truly means that' he thought while looking at her eyes. They were dark in a way he had never seen before, no sparkle, no glint of hope, just nothingness, and yet there was something hidden somewhere deep within them. Something he hadn't noticed before, something he did not recognise; it scared him. While his uncontrollable shuddering continued, he manged to say, “I can agree to that,” in attempt to try sound as truthful as she was. He failed, and she let go of his right hand, turned to face him and said, “See you tomorrow, right here.” She pointed the index finger of her right hand at his face, sniffed twice and said, “Don't be late.” Her tone was menacing, 'was she scared?' he thought, 'can't be. She's never scared, a little hesitant maybe, but never scared. He started to frown as she disapeared into the crowd, 'what's going through that head of her's' he thought as he turned and started to walk down the south eastern road.

The further he walked southeast, the more his stomach churned. The sight of the hovels that littered the district started stirring his emotions, 'I can't believe I use to like this place,' he thought as he turned down an alleyway, which was more like a crack in the chaos. People covered in blankets that looked to be made from rat skins were pushed up against walls that looked as if they were about to fall down. The place stunk of loss, misfortune, and a hatred that seemed pure. Walking slightly faster, just to get out of that alleyway, he smelt some form of food cooking. Turning quickly to the left at the next crack, then right at the second crack he found the origin of the smell. His stomach rumbled, but his mind told him to throw up. There was a cauldron resting precariously over a fire in the middle of a charming little clearing, known as The Rotten Splice. Surrounding the cauldron were creatures that appeared to be human, but because of the conditions they were forced to live in, they resembled animals that could barely stand upright. Hunched over, malnourished, figures covered from head to toe in rags were covered with boils, cuts, burns, and some smelt as if they may have gangrene. He started to push through the creatures towards the cauldron, 'it's probably rats, and cockroaches, boiled in dirty street water,' he thought and then stopped.

Casting his mind back to last night caused him to wince, 'if only we...' his thoughts trailed off when something caught his eye, a bright, piercing sparkle. Pushing back through the crowd, he saw it again, and started to mover faster. “Watch it,” said a human figure. “My foot,” said another as he elbowed and stomped his way into and through the swarm. Reaching the outside of the mob he saw the sparkle again, 'Can't be' he thought as he walked towards it, 'not down here.' The loosely resembling human figures were moving in all directions, some escaping the horror of the cooking cauldron, others trying to get a taste