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

Coustin grabbed Bodwin's jaw with the left hand and forced him to stand up straight, “there is no cheating in a fight my friend. Besides, you poked me in the eye!” Coustins right fist crashing into Bodwin's left jaw felt like he had been hit by a rock; he crumpled to the ground unconscious.

As the crowd of gutter slime started to disperse, with mumbling, grumbling, and groaning about how the afternoon's entertainment hadn't lasted long enough, a young man dressed in grey and wearing a hood, stayed behind staring at the bloody crumpled mess of Bodwin lying in the dirt. The man who won the fight was standing beside the two other men, bleeding from his nose, and covering his swelling right eye with his right hand, but he was still laughing and joking about the fight. The young man looked across at the three of them and took a step forward.

“I won't do that if I were you, Raguel.”

The suprise of the voice from behind caused him to spin around only to find himself staring at the old scraggly haired prophet. He chuckled at the sight and then, in a tone that still wavered with suprise, he asked, “why not?”

“Becuase you are not that type of person,” said the prophet.

“And what makes you think that?”

Through a deep breath and wide smile he said, “The other night when you, that broken boy over there, and the black haired girl managed to escape the clutches of The Watch, two of your friends wound up hanging from the ropes, what happened to the other girl?” asked the porphet.

The younger man took a step forward, raised his right hand and started poking the older man in the chest with the index finger, “You better mind our own business, old man, or what happened to Bodwin will happen to you!”

“Oh, Raguel,” said the prophet with a gleam in his eyes, “I am quite confident that you will not lay a hand on me.” He took a step forward, “In fact, I see a deep compassion within you which will stop you from bringing harm to anyone within these walls.”

Raguel laughed. “Do you think so old man?” while continuing to laugh, he said “What makes you think that? How do you know you won't be my first?”

The old man smiled, “because you didn't trun and walk away when I accused you of breaking and entering. Also, anyone else in Eomar would have at least attempted to carry out their threat instead of standing there in front of their accuser stiff with fear!” The old man chuckled and slowly shook his head, “there is more to you than even you know, and I would like the opportunity to help you realise and come to peace with that part of you.”

Raguel shook his head and took a step back, furrowed his eyebrows, “I don't need your false assumptions, old man; or your ridiculous prophecies for that matter. So just leave me be, I'm nothing more than Eomarian scum, a lost cause according to Ruskin.”

“The Great One does not recoginse you as a lost cause, son; in fact, quite the opposite!”

Raguel cringed at the words, but never moved a muscle as the prophet took another step forward, it was as if he somehow knew the old man was right. A cold, yet comforting shiver ran up his spine.

“Tell me,” said the old man, “Why did you run through the valley and leave five of your friends behind?”

Another cool shiver ran up his spine, “The Watch,” he said, “they have a tendency to sacrifice people to Dazbog for that sort of crime.”

“I have witnessed many,” said the old man sadly.

“Well that's not all,” said Raguel, “sometimes victims are forced to join the army as a way to make amends for their faults,” he shook his head 'why did I say that,' he thought and then continued to talk anyway. “If you're lucky you may survive just to be reinstated as a productive member of the usurper king's hypocritical society.” Raguel cringed again, 'me and my big mouth,' he thought. “That is, as a house slave,” he said while continuing to squirm at his inability to keep his big fat mouth shut. “Gods only know the torments that happen then; I have never met a slave. They are supposedly chained inside the houses,” he said and felt a tingle of relief that he could finally close his big gob.

The old man smiled, “well then, what scares you the most?” he asked, “being forced back into society through military campaigns, and slavery; or hanging from a rope?”

“Neither. Both, I'm not sure which is worse,” said Raguel, “that's why I ran,” 'oh, how I hope he doesn't work for Seastnan' he thought.

“You left your friends to share in the fate that you fear the most,” said the old man. “Not such a noble cause, was it?”

Raguel's head fell forward and hung low, heavy with the shame of abandoning his friends, a tear fell from the prophets left eye, “you also saw the outcome while standing beside the only two who managed to escape the warehouse before The Watch could get there, all because you alerted them, and not just with your bad impersonation of an owl, but because of your reckless loud shouting.”

The old man placed his right hand on Raguel's left shoulder and said, “Son, your voice is now known to Seastnan. You can be sure that he will be after you, as he is most certainly looking for that young man lying there in the dirt. Also, the black haired girl I saw you with the other day will be on his list.”

Raguel lifted his head to look into the old man's eyes, his bottom lip quivered as the old man removed his hand from the younger man's shoulder. “I think that your fear of hanging from a rope will become a reality, unless you find another place to be.”

Raguel's eyes widened with astonishment and he attempted to take a step back, failed, then said, “And where by the gods am I supposed to be?”

“Well,” said the old man through a reassuring and somehow disturbing smile, “if you like, you are welcome to come with me.”

Raguel cursed and then lowered his haed again, “I'm not sure if that would be wise. I'm just not that way inclined,” 'you dirty old bastard' he finished in his thoughts. “However,” he said, “There are quite a lot of women in The Rotten Splice who would jump at the chance to bed a prophet. I, on the other hand, am prepared to run in the other direction, well away from this kind of opportunity.”

The old man laughed. “No, no, no.” he said, “I think you have the wrong idea. I do not intend to take advantage of you, quite the opposite actually. All I mean to do is show you a place where you will have food and shelter; a place where The Watch refuses to come.”

Raguel raised his head and stared into the old man's eyes, 'this has to be a lie' he thought 'why would anyone help trash like me.' “I'm not sure,” he said, “where is this place? Can we bring Bodwin?”

The old man turned his head to the left and said, “It looks as though he already has what I'm offering you. Albeit strange that he should want to be sheltered with those who beat on him.”

Looking over at Bodwin, Raguel noticed out of the corner of his eye a brown haired woman wearing a green dress with deep blue-spiralled weavings come out of The Fallen Vagabond; a tavern that was once the pride of The Rotten Splice, but now nothing more than another tragedy surrounded by dilapidated buildings struggling to stay upright. She glided over to Bodwin, bent over and placed both hands on either side of his face; everything started to become colder, the sunlight, what little there was, started to flitter as if dancing with the wind.

The three men laughing about the fight stopped their joking and headed towards the woman. She straightened up, turned to them and said through a smooth silky voice, “Coustin, you have gone too far this time.” Coustin lowered his head, as she continued, “If there is no need to beat him unconscious, then by the gods, do not knock him unconscious!”

Coustin looked up at her and smiled, “I think you have made a good choice with Bodwin. He will make an excellent addition to the team.”

“Only if you three treat him correctly, we need him to trust us not to fear the next lesson,” her voice changed from a smooth silky tone into a husky honey drenched tone, “Please men, carefully pick Bodwin up and follow me inside to the bedroom.”

Raguel did not know what to think as he watched the three men carefully pick Bodwin up and follow her into The Fallen Vagabond. He turned to the old man, “I can see why he stays with them! She's a good looking woman, and that voice!”

The old man just stared; his bottom jaw looked to be unhinged, “Are you both deaf and blind? That woman is older than me, and her voice sounds like a hedgehog screaming in pain while a half starved dog gnaws at its midsection!”

Raguel laughed, “Maybe it's you who's both deaf and blind! Mind you, old age is a good excuse.” He continued to laugh while the old man just shook his head, “Youth of today,” he said, “arrogant, rude, horny, and thicker than pig crap!”

Raguel placed both of his balled fists on his hips, “Alright old man, what's you problem?”

The old man smiled, “You!” he shook his head again, “I have lived in Eomar for the better part of ten cycles, and all I have seen is idiot after idiot follow idiot leaders. Like your friend there, and like you the other night. The smartest thing you have ever done is run from that situation.”

The old man took a step forward, and smiled in a way that made a warm shiver run the length of Raguel's spine, as if the old man had gently stroked his back, Raguel's eyes widened. The old man placed his right hand on Raguel's left shoulder and said, rather harshly, “stop calling me old man! It is true I have seen quite a few cycles, but that is no reason for you to be rude!”

Raguel tried to take a step back but found that the old man was somehow clamping him to the spot. He tried to squirm in an attempt to wiggle out from the right hand, but all that did was cause the old man's smile to widen. Raguel gave up, looked the old man in the eyes and said, calmly and politely, “what is it that I'm supposed to call you then?”

The old man released his grip, dropped his smile and said, “Alee-aidiz.”

Raguel chuckled, “What kind of name is that?”

“The one my mother gave me!” He said sternly, and while shaking his head again, muttered, “ I don't think you would fit in with the group I shelter with, I should've kept my mouth shut,” then turned his back to Raguel and started to walk away. Raguel followed.

Alee-aidiz walked faster than expected, dodging through a crack in a wall, then into an alleyway, moving with more speed the further he went. Raguel started to have trouble keeping him in sight. He couldn't remember the last time he had trouble chasing down an old man. Alee-aidiz ducked to the right into a crumbling building, which use to be the tailors guild headquaters. Some of the best robes, dresses, and blankets in all of Western Thera were made here. However, now it was empty, except for the desperate people who would squat in the dark hiding from The Watch. By the time Raguel had entered the main room, Alee-aidiz had managed to run through into the back, which amazed Raguel who was intent on keeping