The Lion of Eomar - Eric K, Hasler (e book reader pc .txt) 📗

still have two balls!” he said in a smooth daunting tone. The man's left eye widened again, his mouth began to quiver, blood still streamed out of the empty eye socket, and then there was an explosion of words; “My name is Cilix,” he shouted in a wavering, broken tone. “Bodwin, Lucaresha and Raguel were the accomplices, they're traitors! They left us behind, like …. like …. scapegoats. Hunt them down, and kill them! Just leave me my balls …. please!” Seastnan laughed and patted Cilix on the right shoulder, then moved his head closer to the bloody mess, “that's exactly what Nicon said!” he whispered in Cilix's right ear.

“Nicon?” replied Cilix “he probably thought by giving you information he could secure his realease.”

“You impress me boy! That's exactly what he asked! And yes, I did promise to release him,” chuckled Seastnan.

Cilix's eye widened once again, he took a deep breath 'is there hope of release for me' he thought, and then asked, “I gave you the same infromation! What about me? Will you ….” “Oh yes, you have received the same promise,” interrupted Seastnan who was beginning to have trouble controlling his laughter “you have secured your release. In fact, the both of you will be releases tomorrow, together.”

Cilix slumped and released a deep breath as a smile began to appear on his mashed face, he giggled.

Seastnan laughed louder “when Dazbog reaches his highest point the both of you will be released! Aha ha ha ha!

 

 

 

Chapter Two

The five pillars that mark the five major streets of Eomar also mark the circumference of the city centre. One pillar faces towards the northern road,which continues out of the city into the army ecampment, then on through the edge of the Daldarian Forest and into the Dacari Desert. Another pillar points towards the western road that stops just short of the Misty Mountain Cliffs. A different pillar is at the head of a street, which leads towards the northeast, and ends at the port of Boils Embayment. One of the other two pillars points to the longest road that stretches south into and through the poorer parts of the city and then continues out towards Yippar Tarin. The fifth pillar stands in front of the south-eastern street, and leads to what has become the dirtiest part of the city. Each one of these pillars consist of twenty rocks that have been painstakingly chipped away until they had circular sides, and were flat on the top and bottom, and then placed on top of one another. At the top of each pillar is a spike with a bronze ball attached to the point that reflects and glows with the light from the sun, releasing a sharp bright stain hanging from high above the centre, which is easily seen from almost every part of the city. In the middle of these five pillars is the actual city centre where there are five steps leading to a plateau that has two more pillars, built in the same fashion as the other five, but consist of ten rocks and have no bronze ball on top; both of these pillars are separated by a stone table. On this table is a stone shrine cut into a pyramid type shape, with an inscription on all three sides that says, 'Dazbog, giver of fortune. Have mercy.' Behind this holy place is a wooden construction built two cycles ago. It stands twice as high as the average size man, and has steps leading up to a platfrom where there are two wooden poles on either side that are connected to one another by a cross beam. Along the cross beam hangs four ropes, with the ends tied into a loop, and underneath these looped ropes there is a hole wide enough for someone to fall through.

Every day when the sun is reaching its highest point in the sky, the people of Eomar, rich and poor, flock to this centre to plead Dazbog for mercy and fortune. The wealthy people stand with their hands raised towards the sun, thanking Dazbog for their fortunate circumstances, and pleading for the poor to either leave their city, or to die, as this would constitute Dazbog's mercy upon this city. The poor people however, have started to become a little sceptical of Dazbog. They stand towards the outside of the centre grumbling; a few of them plead for Dazbog to show mercy and strike down the rich with thunder and lightening, while some of the few plead for themselves to be taken up from Eomar into the glory of Dazbog's paradise. However, many of the poor people no longer come to the centre for worship. Instead, they come to see which of their friends or family members have been captured during the night, and would possibly be offered up as a sacrifice in attempt to make peace with Dazbog so he would continue to bless the rich people with more wealth, and curse the poor with more rats, cockroaches, famine, and disease.

Over the recent moonths, attendance at the daily worship sessions has started to dwindle. Less and less of the poor are finding any solace in this practice, and have instead, started using their time more wisely. As the wealthy people start heading for the shrine, some of the poor have taken it upon themselves to enter into the houses and shops to relieve them of food, clothes, jewellery, gold, silver, and whatever else had been, carelessly left hidden in the darkest places of their hovels and stores. Because of these brazen daylight burglaries, certain members of The Watch are ordered to guard certain shops and houses belonging to guild members, which is why the presence of The Watch at the daily worship sessions has also dwindled.

 

The wealthy people stunk with horrible perfumes, and jingled with bracelets, necklaces, and bags of gold. They all bunched together, as close to the shrine as they could get. Trying to push through them was harder than trying to find food.

People moaned and groaned as he bumped into them, saying things like, “keep your grimy little hands to yourself, scum!”

“There's no place for orphan trash in Eomar!”

Shunted to the left and right like dry leaves caught in a miniature whirlwind was enough for him to wonder if he should start begging Dazbog for some of that thunder and lightning. He knew it was wrong to ask anything of Dazbog, but asking anything of that god would almost be worth it just to see the looks on wealthy faces as their giver of fortune struck them down for not spreading the wealth, and thereby showing mercy.

Finally, he pushed through to the southern side where he felt a little more comfortable amongest the rabble. He laughed to himself as the wealthy all raised their hands towards the sun at the same time and started chanting “mercy, mercy Dazbog! Release our city from thievery. We beseech you for mercy, Great Lord Dazbog.”

Shanking his head, he turned to look towards the south-eastern pillar where he saw familiar faces. Then, turning toward the southern pillar, he saw a picture of beauty standing beside a man who was dressed in grey rags and had a hood over his head, half covering his face. He couldn't help but stare; the woman's beauty was enough to entrance anybody. The long, loose, straight black hair that ran half way down her back brought a smile to his face. Her dark green eyes, which could be mistaken for being black as opal, sparkled in the sunlight producing a green with a certain depth that could only be found in jade gemstones. Her face was a pale white, but not a sickly diseased pale. Instead, a pale that hadn't been corrupted by the bronzing of Dazbog, which brought flutters to his heart causing it to beat faster; his smile deepened. Even though the light blue dress that she wore was brown with filth, and almost rotting off her, she still looked more elegant than all the wealthy worshippers did. She took notice of him as he approached her, “Bodwin!” she said quietly through a healthy grin that exposed her near perfect teeth.

“So you didn't get caught! Sniff, sniff!” her tone becoming a little softer.

'Still with the sniffing?' he thought, “No” he said just as quiety, “but I saw Nicon, Cilix, and Lyra get taken away.”

The man in grey rags and hood stepped forward, “I told you we'd get caught,” said Raguel shaking his head.

“Well, if Lucaresha and I hadn't heard your attempt at hooting like an owl we would have been,” said Bodwin as he looked at his own dirty feet. 'How is it, that Raguel is never dirty?' he thought while comparing his and Lucaresha's feet to Raguel's clean feet.

“Sniff, sniff. There's more, isn't there,” she said sounding a little concerned.

Bodwin took a deep breath, and looked into her beautiful dark green eyes, “I saw The Watch carrying them off, so …. I …. followed them,” he said quietly through strained breaths, 'how can I tell them!' he thought as Raguel reached out and placed both of his shaking hands on Bodwin's shoulders. Which nearly shook him, “what happened?” he almost shouted.

“I sat in the dark beside the prison …. I think they were tortured. I could hear screams,” he said trying to keep control of himself.

“I heard …. Cilix shout our names! He called us traitors.”

Lucaresha slumped and started shaking, and almost whimpering, “Sniff, sniff! No,” she moaned, “He wouldn't do that!”

Her head fell into the palms of her hands as Raguel, with widening eyes, released his grip on Bodwin and took a step back, “They know our names?” Raguel always did this. Whenever there was a chance someone might figure out what they were doing, or planning to do, he would crack.

“There's only one thing we can do,” he said through his typical depressing, and grim tone; “We must separate, that way it will be harder to find us.”

“Sniff, sniff! No,” she said speaking through her hands, muffling the words, “we all depend on each other. We can't just ….”

“You two look after yourselves then,” interrupted Raguel, “I'm going my own way.” He turned around and disappeared into the rabble.

Bodwin shuddered as he turned towards Lucaresha. She raised her face from her hands; the tears carving their way down her dirty cheeks glittered in the glowing stain from above, her opal dark green eyes sparkled out from the sleep deprived teary red rings in which they were embedded.

“What if Raguel is right?” Bodwin asked trying to sound calm.

She sniffed twice, and said with a slight shake, “what if he's wrong. He always worries too much.”

“It's always better to be safe than sorry,” his grin exposed his rotting teeth, creating the opposite effect of what he was striving for. Noticing her repulsed shiver, most probably from seeing his teeth, while looking into her eyes he could see pain, loss, and despair. The feeling was mutaul, and so he changed tact.

“Where would you go if we had to separate?” he asked as gently as he could.

Her smile evaporated the fear that was evident in her tears, “I know of a place just outside the city, what about you?” she said in a short and