Lions of Men

Chapter 28

Jeruh Amir stirred in his sleep. He wasn't sure, but he thought he had heard noises outside. Had he been followed? Had Rashnee lied to him? Did he dispatch agents to stalk him and keep a watchful eye on him? He was confident he had covered his tracks well.

The soon-to-be disavowed warrior rose from his makeshift safe house and peered outside. It was pitch dark, save the moon which loomed above him.

He heard the shuffling a second time. Or had Rashnee lied to him? Was he being hunted? Did Rashnee send agents to track his location? The mercurial ruler held a grudge like no other, and once the war was over, even if he didn't survive, Rashnee would decree Jeruh to be wanted dead or alive.

Jeruh quickly slipped on a tunic, picked up his sword, and stepped out into the cool of the night. Lighting a torch would make him a target, so he relied on his training instead and listened with his body. He relaxed his muscles and anticipated vibrations of movement, the shifting of weight from one footstep to the next, the exhaling of breath.

There in the thicket of a brush nearby, a pair of bright eyes appeared. The eyes reflected the moon's light and deadlocked on him. Jeruh's' pulse raced, and he tightened his grip on his sword, and slowly advanced. Was it a coyote, a dog, a fox. The mercenary picked up a large stone and flung it at the beast.

"Yah, yah!" he yelled, flailing his hands attempting to drive the creature off. "Away with you! Go! Go!"

But the creature rose, and with a growl, he charged at Jeruh. The biggest leopard he had ever seen tackled him to the ground. Jeruh swore and pushed the head of the beast away to avoid his fangs, but the leopard swatted at him, digging his nails into his side and face. Jeruh grimaced and hollered out, but kept a hand under the feline's throat. With his free hand, he lifted his sword and drove it into the leopard's hip. The beast yelped and jumped ten feet into the air.

Jeruh scooted away but kept his sword aimed at the leopard as he surveyed his wound. The animal locked his eyes on Jeruh and prepared to pounce again. The Black Lion scurried to his feet and raised his sword, preparing to strike. The leopard hesitated and looked for a path to escape.

Jeruh picked up rocks and began flinging them at the beast. "Away with you!" he yelled. "Yah, Yah!"

The leopard growled and swatted at the rocks that pelted his body. Finally, the large cat tucked his tail and disappeared into the darkness. Jeruh limped back to his safe house and lit a torch to survey the wounds on his body. The leopard had dug into his flesh with its long dagger-like claws. Blood poured from a deep gash in his side and lacerations covered his face. Jeruh groaned in agony and trembled because of the pain.

Suddenly, the last words of Saiheir, the former high priestess he assassinated filled his head.

You may gain the entire world, young brute. But it shall never save thy soul. You will never know peace as long as you pursue after riches. Now do what ye must.

"I have gained nothing!" Jeruh cried out in the darkness. "Thou hearest me? Huh? I have nothing! Neither country, nor family, nor life."

The howl of a coyote echoed in the distance, not far from him. A scowl spread across Jeruh's face, and he grabbed his dagger. He placed it to his throat and slowly began to rake it across his trachea, piercing the skin.

"Finish it you coward," he growled to himself. "Finish it, and the voices will disappear. Do it!"

He tightened the grip of the dagger with all his might and prepared to slit his throat. But then Rakurih's face appeared before him. Images of her smile, her green eyes staring back at him beneath their sheets, tantalized him.