Ember Chasers

Chapter 8: In the Grasps of a Knife-Thrower

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  "Hey, looks like there's still a child in this stupid dump," announced the burly man proudly, snorting as he half-dragged the boy towards their camp — which happened to be the church he so wanted to see.

  The young thief bent his head and lowered his gaze in submission. It was always better to act as if you respected them, Asagai could proudly say that from experience. Otherwise they'd beat you black and blue like the dog you were.

  "Twelve, thirteen, fourteen..." Another man counted the children lined up in a bored expression, bloodshot and tired eyes glaring enviously at the other rooks groping a few young ladies and lifting up their skirts with the sheath of their swords. Others squirmed but said nothing, while a certain woman scowled and swatted the man's weapon away with her bare hand.

  It didn't end well, however, and Asagai had to look elsewhere to avoid the perverse way the other rooks taught her a lesson.

  "Fifteen if you include this one," the man added, shoving Asagai so harshly he nearly fell flat on his face. "Too bad that man with him was a fast runner, bet we could've used him for dragging the carts."

  Fast runner. Asagai almost laughed bitterly. Emberchase had left him, and he only ran and ran to save his own skin. The boy was right, after all.

  Selfish. Stupid, selfish Emberchase.

  His small hands curled themselves up into balls so tightly, and his nails almost dug another tear through the bandages Emberchase had wrapped around his palms.

  Selfish. Emberchase was selfish!

  "Hmm... betrayal is indeed a bitter, sour thing that consumes the heart and fills it with all those shitty emotions like pain, right?" a catlike voice purred in front of the boy, followed by something metallic swishing back and forth, cutting sharply into the air.

  Emberchase called the man 'Foxface,' Asagai recalled, but then he shook his head violently, all in order to disperse the thoughts about the man. ‘Quit thinking about that selfish scumbag, Asagai! He's gone, the fork-tongued liar!’

  "Well, there's nothing we can do about Emberchase for now," Foxface recited the words as if he had said them every time some vagrant escaped their grasp. However, that little hint of a sneer didn't go unnoticed by the boy.

  "Though I'd bet your fat, ugly head that Lord Hyl would be extremely pleased if we brought his shitty little fire-dancer back." The knife-thrower thrust his dagger towards the boorish man's chest lightly, making sure that at least no wound came into the flesh.

  "Watch those insults, Reisyce. I'm tolerating your attitude just because your Lord Hyl's right-hand man," retorted the man, slapping away the knife from Reisyce's hand. The latter only chuckled darkly, with no hint of bemusement on his tone.