The Epic of the Kindhearted Guard (e.g. the Adventures of Riyad)
One day, Riyad would be able to laugh about this.
Not today.
No, definitely not today.
One moment, he'd been handing his water canteen to an old woman riding a beaten down mount, the next thing he knew...
He shrugs, takes out his canteen, and goes to the traitors' well to get something for the old beggar woman to drink.
"Here you go, mother."
He bows respectfully when he hands it to her. His mother taught him his manners. Respect your elders. It usually led to good things in your future life if you obeyed them.
Usually.
The woman raises an eyebrow, almost confused.
"Thanks..." she says, slurping at the canteen. Water sloshes over the edge of the rim. She wipes her mouth and prepares to hand it back to Riyad with a simpering grin. "Thank you."
But she doesn't let go of it right away.
Riyad looks up in confusion. "I'm sorry I have to do this."
She rammed it over his head, and when he woke up, he was tied up in the traitors' home. He had a huge knot on the back of his skull, and he couldn't find that jackass Khan, the one who was guarding the Ngayoh Estate with him. Khan's absence didn't really bother him that much. The guy always called Riyad a skeleton because he was so thin. Then, he'd go ahead and flex his muscles. It wasn't Riyad's fault he was born to poor village parents. He bet he'd have an eight pack and a tight bum if he had half the money that the rich bastard, Khan, had stashed from his father's merchant wealth.
He hoped that something bad happened to Khan.
A strange woman with a colorful dragon veil and a slight lilt in her accent had fed him flatbread, rice, and water. She hadn't spoken much. He'd heard that witch woman Ode, the one they'd been warned to guard against, call her "Ratu."
Riyad hated to admit it, but he had a slight crush on that Ratu. He would've told her so if she didn't glare like she wanted to kill him every time he attempted conversation.
Then again, he also claimed to love honey cakes. That didn't mean he wanted to marry honey cake. It was probably the same with Ratu.
And then, when he wasn't eating, the gag would go right back.
There'd been some drama when the important man, General Ibrahim, had stormed into the house. Riyad had hoped to be set free. But then, for some reason, there was screaming and crying. And when the General came back, he was all buddy-buddy with the witch and had a pet ghūl. Just Riyad's luck.
He probably wouldn't even be able to make it back in time for the gift swap during the Rahasian Festival of Shab (شب), or the Festival of Night.
Basically, it was the night festival where, traditionally, all the gods took a break from squabbling with each other and playing war. It started long ago when Aziz, tired of fighting, tricked their other two brothers into partying the night away with them by getting them super drunk one night of the year.
Ever since then, the Three Brothers begrudgingly got together, ate baskets of sweet food offerings from their worshippers, drank good cider, fell asleep, and invited humans to bask in revelry with them. Riyad wanted to eat some honey cake and figure out a way to guilt his captain into buying him new bracers. This was the year he'd find a girlfriend to stop his mom from pestering him about grandchildren! Not that he really wanted a girlfriend... or a boyfriend... or a lover of any sort. He was more about friendships than lovers.
If you could marry honey cake though, it'd be a different story.
Now, he'd be lucky if the witch didn't turn him into a toad.
After Ratu gave him a particularly large meal of chamomile tea and soaked rice porridge, Riyad had passed out near-instantaneously. And when he woke up...
Elder's arse...
The house, save for the old dying man with the scars that he was pretty sure was the Cleaver of Men, and those damned ghūls, is empty.
At least the gag had slipped down to around his neck. His wrists are still tied though. It'd been hours since Ratu had let him out to pee.
I feel like I'm a glorified house pet.
At least I'm not an actual house pet. She hasn't turned me into a dog yet.
Though, I'd probably prefer that to a toad.
Trying to drag himself over to the door, Riyad ends up falling over onto his side. Staring at the suspiciously red-stained kitchen wall, poor Riyad squirms like a worm. "This is what I get for being kind and sharing water." He wails, trying to make it to the hall. Cleaver is probably still sleeping.
Hopefully the old man's still living.
Then he hears it.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
A man is stomping drunkenly towards Riyad. Long hair brushing his shoulders, an exhausted, trembling frame of a soldier who hasn't seen combat for a while. Riyad squeaks, recognizing that terrifyingly intensive face. This man is the legend that got him inspired enough to join the Emperor's army in the first place. Riyad had heard the stories of this man, the stories of a peasant farmer's son who took an arrow to his leg, saved General Ibrahim, and became the most feared warlord in the entire Empire.
"The Cleaver!" Riyad tries to worm his way back to the safety of the kitchen.
Idiot. I should have realized that the Cleaver and Serkan Ngayoh were the same person.
You never were very smart. Why do you think you became a shepherd boy instead of a scholar like your cousin, Abu?
Nobody likes you, other voice!
Riyad stopped bickering with the voices in his head as soon as he saw Serkan stagger over to him, nearly smashing his face into the wall.
"Dammit! I burned down villages. I beheaded entire battalions of enemy armies. I once killed an enemy fire-summoning Diviner with nothing more than a dagger and a bit of string. Yet, old age takes me down like I'm a toddler."
The man coughs up blood, gets shakily to his feet. When his salt-and-pepper, shaggy head of hair falls off his shoulders, Riyad sees the shell of what this legend once was. Riyad turns even paler when he spies a ghūl trotting like a loyal dog between the Cleaver's legs. The Cleaver leans a bit on the ghūl, using it like a cane. The ghūl obediently complies, its lips peeling back hungrily as it takes in Riyad.
"Please, sir!" Riyad wails. "I was just following orders."
The man's watery eyes, piercing, take Riyad in. The Cleaver's jaw is strong, his shoulders broad, the promise of a body that once carried spears and shields like they weighed the same as a single grain of rice. "The Emperor sent you to make sure I never left this house. To make sure that old Serkan didn't stir up trouble." He grimaces, patting the ghūl's head absentmindedly. "Should have worried more about my daughter. He underestimated her. That was his weakness. Pity I'm too old to fight." He looks to Riyad, chuckles. "Pity you're too skinny."
Riyad blushes, his embarrassment overriding common sense. "Hey, you try to gain muscle when you work as a family shepherd!"
Serkan chews the inside of his cheek, wipes the blood and spittle from his lips, and chuckles, the sound's a low gurgle in his bleeding throat. "You remind me of myself. Stupid." Riyad sputters in anger, but Serkan continues, "but stupid with a whole lot of fighting spirit."
Riyad pauses, tilts his head. His blush deepens, this time, embarrassed from the compliment. He's just been complimented by a legend! "Thank you, sir."
Serkan considers him for a moment. "I need a new nurse. Turns out the old one wants to go back to being a Queen of Thieves." Riyad goes over this information. Did he mean Ratu? That nice veiled girl did what?
Serkan scratches his chin, emphasizing the hollows of hunger in his cheeks, the sallowness of his flesh. "How about you take on the job?"
Riyad considers this, looking down at the crest of the Empire emblazoned on his standard-issue armor. "I can't just leave the army for you. That'd make me a traitor."
Serkan sighs. "I'll pay you."
"With what?"
The old soldier points to the ghūl, who trots so close to Riyad that the boy can smell rotten flesh on its breath, see its forked tongue flick out and lick the side of his neck. Trying not to throw up, he looks up at Serkan in fear. The cruel legend smiles.
"I'll pay you with your life."
This is what I get for kindness.
Unsure whether to be awestruck by being in the presence of his hero, or more terrified by being a skeleton-creature's lunch, Riyad nods with fake enthusiasm.
"I'll be the best nurse in the Empire!" The young man promises.
Serkan chuckles to see the skinny boy puff out his chest, emphasizing his skeletal physique. Skin darkened with odd tan lines from uneven shepherd robes, a gawky teenage frame, sunspots on his skin that he tried to hide by growing out his stick-straight hair to his shoulders. He had the prettiest eyes though, green as a water lily. And his smile, though nervous, is the smile of a truly kind soul.
Kindness, Serkan thinks bemusedly to himself, no wonder the poor boy didn't make it far in the army.
Then again, he admits, kindness is also the reason why my daughter didn't kill him.
He unties the boy's bonds enough so he can work, and then firmly shakes his hand, testing the former shepherd boy's grip. "Alright, shepherd boy. Let's see what you can do."
***
Champions,
Hope y'all love the sweet little baby, Riyad. He's interrupted the daily programming because I was rereading the chapters, saw that the "nice guard" was never mentioned again, and decided at least one Empire soldier should get a semi-happy ending.
Oh, also, because I can't keep secrets...
I'll be releasing another Paranormal Book (still being written) after I finish this one. It'll involve three things: A) ghosts B) diversity and C) the Roaring Twenties (think Great Gatsby). I'll be giving you guys the trailer for it at the end of this book! It's going to be called "Mad Mo and the Ghost Girl".
Best, thank you for 30k reads!!! Couldn't do it without your votes.
Sophia