A Bully too Many

I

A Bully too Many

“I need you to go to the city for me. Take this note to Mathias, the leatherworker. And don’t you read it, boy.”

Seosamh handed Cien the small piece of parchment, “Think you can handle that, Young One?” he asked, an eyebrow high in mock concern. Cien had never been to the city of Nablus alone before, it was certainly something out of the ordinary for his father to send him on such an errand.

The boy had been given many more responsibilities as of late, he wondered if it could possibly mean that he would be… no, he was getting ahead of himself.

Cien nodded slowly, “On one condition, I will take Vyron.” He said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Seosamh chuckled softly, what a boy he had raised. Vyron was the newest addition to Seosamh’s stryder pack. Stryders were feral in nature but if captured and trained, they could be the swiftest beasts to ever carry a man.

The enormous, flightless birds inhabited harsh regions of the world, mountainous and rocky. Their long slender necks gave place for one’s hands to grasp while riding. The beasts’ giant talons are quick to move from a trot to an unstoppable sprint. The brilliant purples and reds that made up their feathers did nothing to hide them in the wild, relying on their speed to outrun a predator. Then there was their temper, constantly angry.

And of course, Vyron, was the fiercest of the pack. The creature was not quite broken yet. It was willing to be ridden by only two, one of them being Seosamh, the other, Cien.

Seosamh put out his closed palm, waiting for the boy to do the same. Cien did and he opened his hand. Out fell a small coin pouch, by the weight of it at least two seasons worth of gold. Seosamh nodded in agreement to the boy’s bold request, causing the child to erupt into loud whoops and cheers. He hugged his smiling father and took off running towards the stryder trees.

         The boy had never actually been to any other cities, but even so he would never accept that there could be a more amazing place in the world than Nablus. The great city was in the midst of two trade routes, they led to two other large towns though one would have to travel a great many days to reach them. But from the ranch, it was but a half of an hour’s journey on stryderback to Nablus.

         Making it to the tall trees near the back of his father’s land he whistled lightly looking up to their tops. Most of the stryders were slumbering in their nests high above, except for Vyron of course. The bird’s deep, yellow, irritated eyes stared down at the intruder, quickly softening as he recognized the lad. It squawked loudly in greeting as it leaped to the ground below. Cien rubbed the bird’s thick, sharp beak softly, to only he would the proud beast bow so low. Grabbing onto its neck, Cien swung himself up, slipping his legs between the bird’s warm, coarse wings.

         Feeling the boy in place, Vyron took off, a trail of dust irritating the rest of the snoozing pack behind in their nests. The wind pushed back the boy’s black and white hair, he felt like the day could not have gone better. From a stuffy, dark barn, the child was out and about, speeding away on the giant bird.

Before his father had come with the secret note, the day had been passing just as slowly as Cien had feared. The boy had been sent to shear the overgrown fur from Seosamh’s flock of hunyangos. The creatures stood as high as Cien’s waist, covered in thick fur. Their only defense being the tiny prickly spikes hidden inside their fleeces. It was a monotonous task that brought no pleasure to the young one’s imagination. The flock had bayed loudly, drowning out the sounds of nature that on any other day would have taken him to adventurous lands far, far away. And then there was the smell. Though the doors had been wide open, the small beasts’ familiar odor was quite pungent. If the boy began to drift away, the sharp poke of the newly protruding spikes from the hunyangos’ skins would bring him back. They were exposed further as the fur was cut free.          

         Yesterday had not been so bad. He had taken the flocks to a nearby field. Cien had only been there for but a few hours when three men on stryder back appeared just over the hill where the boy sat with his little followers. Cien stared at them in a daze, wishing deeply that he could be like them. The men were muscular, tall, their skin dark from the daily exposure to the mighty sun. Their stryders were black, perhaps the fiercest of their kind. The three men led massive groups of large beasts with impressive horns on their heads. They controlled their herds with but a whistle from their lips, true power in the young lad’s mind.

         The three wore leather hide hats that covered their eyes from the sun’s rays and multicolored cloth wrapped around their backs and chests, keeping them warm in the mornings and protecting them from the heat in the day. They carried long knives and sharp whips with them, for their own defense and the defense of their herds. The men emitted an aura of confidence, prowess, and as always, strength.

         And there was Cien, handed down sandals on his feet, torn shirt on his back, filthy pants that smelled of animal droppings, and nothing more than a stick to help him walk alongside his humble flock. He would always keep his head down, trying his best to hide behind trees or bushes when the men came near. The boy was ashamed of what he wore, ashamed of his small flock, and ashamed of the place that he, his father and their family held, mere shepherds.

Before he knew it, the boy’s shameful daydream vanished as Vyron brought him to the tall gates of the city. Even in the light rain that was coming down, the city was easily distinguishable. A high wall of rock and dirt encircled the whole of Nablus. There was only one gate and a few smaller gateways out, but they were guarded well, unusable by commoners. The rumors as of late told of brigand attacks on trade caravans. The city guards would take no chances.

Riding in, he quickly dismounted Vyron holding the reins still. He petted the beast’s lower neck, “Thank you for bringing me so quickly.” He whispered, for a moment it looked as if Vyron nodded, but of course was it not every boy’s dream to speak with the creatures around him. Cien looked around quickly, an embarrassing pink color circling in his cheeks. He could not be seen talking to his bird, the things people would say, the looks he would get. The boy’s mind held many more things than that of the average child. Perhaps concerns that one his age should not have to deal with. But Cien did, he dealt with much more each day than most children did in a week.

         Walking on with the bird in tow, he came upon the street stands of many merchants. They were dressed in wild brilliant colors, yelling in many languages, trying their best to attract those with a heavy pocket. Most of the merchants were setting their trinkets back out as the rains subsided. Moving further into the city, Cien could smell the exotic aromas of every kind of meat a boy could ever wish for, especially one as poor as he. Strolling towards the cooking fires he could see enormous beasts being roasted over open flames, the cooks slicing gently away at the crisp, aromatic skin. The roasted creatures had many legs, Cien was suddenly unsure of whether his stomach turned in hunger or disgust.

         Other tents held cages full of strange birds, some with long wings, some short and flightless, other had tails like that of a lizard’s. A few cages even had small dark creatures that squeaked loudly, hanging upside down, their small jaws dripping green ooze onto one another. An old woman saw Cien’s interest and flung a batch of lifeless, plucked birds in his direction, holding them up by their necks, “Bastalaa? Bastalaa?” Cien shook his head, not understanding the rough language. “Eh… bird? Bird for you?” she asked again with a heavy accent, in the hopes that the lad would understand.

“No thank you, perhaps when I come back around.” He replied kindly.

The woman’s lips pursed, her attempts wasted on a poor boy, “Bah! Shoo shoo!” she yelped swinging the wrinkly birds with every word. But as she moved closer to the boy she noticed something strange about him, his eyes. The dark purple hues of the boy’s stare sent shivers down her back. She began muttering fearful words under her breath as she quickly covered her face, squealing quietly.

         “Please, it’s alright, I didn’t mean to bother you.” He said quickly, though she had been the one that started the awkward confrontation. Cien walked away swiftly nearly slipping in the muddy ground, he instinctively lowered his head, avoiding the looks of those around him. He could not bear to be stared at.

         The distracted boy fell suddenly to the ground as Vyron hissed angrily at those before them. While trying his best to hide his features, Cien had unknowingly run into someone.

The now irritated man turned slowly to face the boy, his companions turned also. Cien grimaced in regret, for the man was a Farseer, one of the self appointed elders. He was dressed in long, expensive robes of darker colors. His neck was hidden away behind a stacked collection of exotic, metal rings that began large at his shoulders and decreased in size as they ran up his neck. They stretched his head unnaturally far from his chest. His hair was tightly braided into three strands, one over his back, and one over each shoulder. It didn’t take Cien long to close his eyes as much as possible, the purple color hidden from the tall man’s sight.

The group of Fareers had been hassling a merchant that had not paid his dues to keep so called, dark spirits away. Most laws were written and public, but every once in a while there were rules left unmentioned, rules enforced by the Farseers themselves. Several of the men turned back towards the stand, helping themselves to the poor merchant’s goods in exchange for what they felt was owed, and perhaps a bit more for their trouble.

Cien began to stand slowly. Though the boy’s head was bowed, he could still feel the man’s gaze piercing his very being. A swift kick brought Cien back to the earth. The man’s lips parted as if to speak. But to him, the boy was nothing, a poor, worthless rat. He would not even waste his speech on such a lowly creature.

The man spat on the ground near Cien’s hand, so close that the moisture hopped onto his skin. Cien took the hint and gathered himself back up, his back always turned. Moving along quicker than before, he could still feel the Farseer’s eyes behind.

His father had told him stories about these men. He had spoken about their zealously righteous campaign to rid the world of evil and injustice. They sought out witches, warlocks, any kind of magic use. Once found, they destroyed all traces of it, their methods at times questionable.

Cien was always told to avoid them. His father would always say they had the power to mistake a young shepherd for an abomination and get away with it. Cien shuddered at the thought of being imprisoned by the Farseers, at being tortured endlessly. Though young boys like him had a tendency to complicate the truth, there were always rumors of tyranny and corruption among the Farseers. It was said that they did not always seek evil just to destroy it. Though Cien had nothing to hide, the shades of color that made up his eyes could easily weave false stories in the minds of men.

With such fearful thoughts in mind, Cien nearly ran into another man, this time one of a crowd of spectators. 

There were shows throughout all of Nablus, singers, musicians, jugglers. He was glad for the distraction. Cien’s favorites by far were the tamers, nomadic men and women that held the secrets of controlling feral creatures with but simple words. When he was younger Cien would dream about them. While he slept he would see the earliest generations as they were born of men and animals giving the first tamers the ability to become the creatures themselves at will.

The crowd before him brought back memories of a few seasons back. He had watched in awe as an enormous white beast stood on its hind legs. He could’ve sworn that the animal was four times his height. It was covered in thick fur and fat, though its bulging muscles could still be seen clearly. The creature came from the far north, where the waters were frozen year round. It lifted a woman over its head, its toothy mouth wide open as if to eat her, growling deeply from within its very bowels.

“Oh no!” the boy hissed to his father, who in return would only shush him and smile.

“Just watch.” He would always say. The woman dangled upside down from the beast’s claws, her lips moving wordlessly. She then dipped her small head impossibly close to its serrated teeth, holding it there for a few suspenseful moments before gracefully jumping down from the creature’s back, unharmed.

         The crowd would roar in delight Cien quickly joining them with endless clapping, “Amazing!” he would yell to his father who would just chuckle at the young boy’s enthusiasm.

But there were no tamers today, only singers, and any other time the boy would’ve been disappointed. But he had a mission, the mystery of the secret note that his father would not let him read was too enticing for him to be bogged down by anything else. Even the run in with the Farseers was a thing of the past.

But as his older brother would say, all good things come to an end, for mere yards away stood the one person that could ruin even the brightest of days.

It was the bully known as Jerub. He and two of his companions were standing near the bird lady. The two other boys teased her, distracting her while Jerub snuck behind the stand, grabbed as many dangling birds as he could and took off with the stolen loot towards Cien. He had always been the most daring of boys thought Cien as he squinted his eyes with disgust.

         The strong feelings of anger towards the bully withered suddenly as he drew near. Cien shamefully leaped behind a merchant’s tent. He landed roughly on the muddy ground leaving Vyron to lick his beak again, the dead birds only a few hops away. Cien peered around the corner of his hiding place, falling back quickly, afraid that he would be spotted.

Jerub was muscular in every way Cien could think of. He had dark brown eyes that never seemed to show compassion. His face was covered in scars from his many prized fights. His two friends were Cedron, a very fat, dark skinned boy and Ajah, an unnaturally tall and scrawny lad. The three of them wore the gray half robes of Farseer apprentices. Jerub was within the bloodline of Seers, his friends merely taking advantage of the acquaintance. Truth be told, the other two boys were simply orphans taken up by the council, raised to serve them or perhaps if destined, to join them as full Farseers.

         Jerub ran right past Cien’s hideout not noticing the giant Vyron standing in his path. Once Jerub was out of sight the other two boys took off running as well, their job well done. Vyron squawked in protest at Cien, the beast was ready to move on, particularly towards the nearby snacks.

“Go on, go on.” He whispered to Vyron waving his hands carelessly, his thoughts focused on his lookout for the bullies. The bird knew its way to the nearby trees just outside of the walls. It turned away, happy to be free of the nervous boy.

         Cien risked another look around the tent. There were hundreds of people in the streets, but none of them were Jerub. He was safe, for now. He stood quickly, giving no concern to his now dripping, muddy clothes. He headed straight for the leather worker. His mission was still at stake.

Stepping inside, the sudden stench of tanned hide hit him like the recent kick from the Farseer. Mathias was working away in the back not noticing the boy’s entrance. Cien ducked below a window, peeking out carefully, “Where could they be?” he thought.

         “Can I help you lad?” came the rough voice from behind. Cien jumped suddenly with a squeal, sending several barrels flying, along with the stacks of leather that had been drying on top of them. Mathias stared blankly waiting for Cien to gain his composure. “Hmm, you’re Seosamh’s boy aren’t ye?” he asked, though the man tried to hide it, Cien was well accustomed to the quick, curious glances that people gave him.

“Ahh, um, yes, yes I am.” said Cien finally, scrambling to control the rolling barrels, one under his arm, another between his legs.

         The boy handed Mathias the secret note proudly, though tempted, he had not read it, a secret victory in the boy’s mind. Mathias looked at it for a moment, then looked back at Cien, again avoiding the boy’s eyes, “That old fool can’t write worth a hide.” He snorted, spitting a black liquid onto the earthy floor. The large man disappeared into the back of the store, tinkering around for only a few moments before coming back to the front.

         “Here you are, take this to your father, boy.” He handed Cien a somewhat heavy bag. Cien eyes grew as he began to open it, finally able to discover the truth behind the mystery of the note. He deserved it he thought. “Don’t be thinking about looking lad, says it right here in the parchment.” said Mathias stabbing it with a thick, oily finger. “Give me your word.” He said with one eye closed as if taking aim. His lips were crooked, they seemed prepared to launch another black missile.

         Cien nodded glumly, watching for the flying liquid from the man’s mouth, “Yes sir.” the words practically a whisper.

         “Good, now run along and don’t be forgetting to leave that pouch of coins now.” He said, spitting again.

         Cien dropped the small purse onto the newly stacked barrels, and took a good, long, and certainly worried look outside before stepping out into the city streets.

Now in the open, he took another quick gander, Jerub was nowhere to be seen. The boy walked swiftly, like prey on the run, he tried to look relaxed as he made his way hurriedly towards the city gates. The exit was still a good distance away still and he wasn’t sure whether he could avoid the bullies much longer.

         He bumped into several people, nearly dropping the precious bag, “Excuse me, sorry, pardon me.” He walked by the bird lady, she was counting her birds, knowing full well that she had been robbed. She looked towards the boy for a moment, saw Cien’s bag and could only assume that he was the culprit.

         “You! You! My Bastalaa! My Bastalaa!” she screamed nervously. Not many people noticed, most just ignored the crazy, old hag. Even the pompous Farseers kept to their own matters.

         But, sadly for the boy, not everyone turned away. A cold smile crept along Jerub’s face. The bully was sitting up against the city gates with his two accomplices, splitting up their stolen booty. Lifting a dirty hand, he merely pointed and like two howling, blood hounds Ajah and Cedron were off and running towards Cien. Turning quickly, Cien sped off back towards the leatherworker. He would need to find another way out of the city.

         The boys that gave chase were much bigger than Cien, he had the advantage of speed over them. Even so, they would soon catch up, the bag that Cien carried was awkward and large and though his body told him to drop it, he would not dream of leaving it behind. He ran on, searching left and right, looking down each street for a way out.

         “Slow down boy! We only want to talk!” laughed Jerub. His voice startled Cien, he could hear it clearly, they were closer than he had first thought.

Turning onto a side street, Cien lost his footing, clumsily sliding into a barrel full of water. It burst open soaking the boy further and drenching his bag. He got up quickly, the mud covered his back and face, but he kept moving, the boys gaining on him each moment that he waited. Further down the road Cien could see that the alley ended, the tall stone and dirt wall that surrounded the city stopped it dead.

         Slowing to breath, he looked back. The boys had turned with him and were racing down the alley. Looking to his side he noticed several barrels stacked on top of one another. They stood blocking a thin space between the dirt wall of the city and the brick rears of the buildings and houses.

         Without another thought Cien put his bag down and grabbed onto the top barrel knocking it over. With a hard kick it raced down the alley towards the boys. On and on he rolled the barrels aiming at the boys legs, “Look out!” cried Ajah as he leaped over the first barrel, only to be run down by the second.

“Ah ha!” yelped Cien clenching a fist in victory. But it was short lived as he went to grab the next barrel and found none, he was out of ammo.

Cien grabbed his bag and scrambled into the corridor between the city wall and the backs of the houses, a space fit for rats. “Grab him!” yelled Cedron as Cien just barely squeezed through. But it was too late, he pushed into the crack only to be pulled back by Jerub. The nasty boy had caught Cien’s sleeve and like a starving beast with a shred of meat, Jerub yanked on it with all of his might. The bag was still in Cien’s other hand, safe for now but quickly ripping, the material drenched and soft.

“You aren’t going anywhere Violet,” hissed Jerub. Cien hated that name, it was obviously meant for a girl and they used it constantly when they wanted to get under his skin. There was nothing that Cien could do about his deep, purple eyes. He could not change is shaggy brown hair, lined with the white of an old man’s locks. The boy had been marked since birth as one to be feared, that fear changing quickly to ridicule of the different.

“Leave me alone!” he screamed at the laughing boys. He had always wondered why they hated him so. He cursed his differences for giving the bullies their ammunition. Though most people would simply avoid Cien, the bullies chose to faithfully hate him.

Cien could feel himself sliding in the mud, the strong bully was slowly pulling him out of the confined space. Cien could just barely turn his head in the corridor scraping his skin in the tight passageway. He could see the street that was at the end of the space. If only he could just get away, he could make it to the street and hopefully find a way out. Jerub yanked harder and harder, Cien’s arm was almost out of the crack. He pulled back at the bully as hard as he could, grunting with labor, his arm pounding with pain. “It’s no use Violet. Just come on out for a bit aye?” the two other boys chuckled at Jerub’s cruel taunting.

But to Cien’s joyous surprise, his soaked shirt sleeve tore off in Jerub’s hands, ending the tug of war. The purple eyed boy pressed his way through the tiny space as fast as he could, the wet bag ripping further as he crept on. He wished so dearly that he could grab it with his other hand, but there was no room. If he didn’t hurry he would lose the precious parcels inside. Sharp weeds and plants with thorns pricked at his legs, cutting into his skin. “Go around fools!” screamed Jerub pounding a dent into the house wall in front of him in frustration. They were too large to make it through after Cien.

         With a shout of joy Cien popped through and onto the other side of the passageway. The happy yell soon turned into a whimper of despair as he soon realized that the street was an identical alley. To his left was the wall once more and to his right the alley led down to the main streets. By the time he could make it down to its end, the bullies would have already made it around.

         He looked back at the city wall. At the bottom where it met the ground, a hole had been cut out to direct the heavy rain fall out towards a pond just outside the city. Cien ran to it kneeling roughly. The hole was about the size of his head, just a bit bigger. He didn’t think he would be able to fit through, but it was his only chance. Climbing the wall would prove to be too much he knew. They were smooth and held no nooks or holes to place his hands or feet.

         He put the torn bag aside and began forcing his way through the hole. It was tough. The boy had thought that with a bit of effort the hole would widen a bit, but it would take some time, time he did not have as he heard hurried footsteps drawing near.

The boy was suddenly yanked away from his escape as two hands grabbed onto each of his ankles. The bullies dragged Cien back away from the wall and tossed him aside. “Look at this boys, our little rat was trying to skitter away through his hole.” chuckled Jerub. The other boys laughed too, a kind of forced laugh. Cien could tell that even they were afraid of Jerub and his unpredictable ways.

         Cien lay on the ground, he didn’t try to stand. His past experiences told him that it was futile, he would only be put down again. “Well, don’t want to talk do ya? Want to skip straight to the good stuff hmm?” The good stuff that Jerub was referring to was the more physical part of their usual encounters.

         Cien sat up, his hands in the mud below him. Jerub ran up quickly, and kicked him in the chest laying him flat again. “No no, there is no need to stand, Queen Violet, we can do this with you on the ground.” Cien wanted to go home so very badly, to get back to his smelly flock, to bring back that which his father had entrusted him with.

His heart was pounding, his body felt warm though he was soaked and only moments ago had been shivering. The heat expanded out from his chest and towards his arms and hands and into the very dirt beneath him. It was an unnatural wave of warmth, stemming not from his exhausted muscles or sweating head, but instead from his very being.

         Jerub waved his friends over, a signal to start the thrashing. But instincts suddenly took over as Cien grabbed a large handful of mud and threw at it Jerub’s face with a yell. The wet projectile hit him square in the eyes blinding him completely. The mud that had fallen away from the bully’s face splattered across and onto the faces of the other two boys that had been standing close to him. They too fell to the ground, rubbing away at their eyes. Cien stared in awe, his hasty plan had worked unnaturally well. The adrenaline filled boy took too much credit.

         Without another thought, Cien scrambled back towards the hole in the wall, grabbing the bag with one hand. He fit his head through right away. He smiled as he saw the small pond of collected rain water just outside. He pushed and kicked with his legs, trying to force his shoulder through. He brought his free hand up to the hole and clawed away at it, doing his best to crumble its edges. But the dirt was tightly packed and the ancient stones within it made it impossible to break through.

         “Please… Let me through!” he hissed. The wave of heat returned with a sudden fury as beads of sweat collected around his scraped, itchy forehead. He could feel a rhythmic drumming nearby. The bullies must still be rolling around on the ground thought Cien. Good, it meant he had more time. But the sound inched closer to where he scraped at the wall. Cien could feel it within the very rock that he touched. Without warning the stones began to creak and grind against one another. The dirt in the wall shifted slightly, widening the hole where he laid to form a perfect silhouette of the boy’s shoulders.

“It worked!” he screamed to himself as his hard labor finally paid off. Cien’s upper body popped through, he was nearly out! He pulled the bag as carefully as he could up to his chest. He would make it if he could only push a little bit further.

Pain flared in his chin as he smashed it into the wall. Jerub had gotten up and was yanking him back through. “No! Let me go!” he screamed at the top of his lungs as he gave one final heave against the hole, simultaneously kicking the bully square in the jaw.

Cien fell with a glorious splash into the collected water outside of the wall. Swimming quickly to the edge, he scrambled out of the foul liquid. He was breathing heavily, his entire body ached, his arms and face covered in bruises and cuts. Even so, he had made it out.

Jerub’s ugly head poked out of the hole in the wall, yelling every kind of curse under the sun. The nasty boy fumed in pure, livid hatred as he stared at Cien, unable to pursue him.

         The hole was too small for the bulky bully to get through. He could hear his friends struggling to pull him back. Cien giggled to himself as he turned to run off. He wondered how his brothers would react to this magnificent story, he would make sure to add to it of course.

         But the boy’s joyous laughter fell silent as he heard Jerub’s voice from within the city, it appeared that Jerub made it out of the trap in the wall. “Oh little boy! I wonder to myself how much I could get for these things here? Leather isn’t cheap, several gold I would suppose. I thank ye Queen Violet!” he cackled in the distance.

As the stone wall secretly returned to its original shape, Cien realized that he had left behind the one thing that mattered the most to him, his father’s, expensive leather. Cien had failed his mission.