Susant left the Seer's house feeling a fierce determination to follow his dream. But with every footstep he took away from her, he felt the fire fueling his passion fading. He began to feel his doubts slithering out of the shadows, and before long, he was quite convinced that the old woman was quite off her rocker.
He took the long route home, passing by the orphanage, but none of the children were around. Even when he called out over the gate to them, none showed. He thought it a little strange, but perhaps they were busy with chores.
Trying not to let his mind wander back to the conversation between himself and the Seer, Susant tried to hum to himself, but to no avail, he could not free himself of the thoughts. Seeing a rock in the road, Susant gave it a hard kick, then froze as he watched it crack into the side of a man's leg no more than a dozen feet away.
Before Susant could say anything, the man had marched straight up to him and had him by the cuff of his shirt.
"You kickin' rocks, boy?" The man shook him, and Susant could see the anger in his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" Susant tried to explain, but before he could finish, the man threw him down to the ground and kicked him hard in the stomach. Susant cried out in pain as all the air in his lungs escaped him.
The man leaned down until he was an inch from Susant's ear. "An eye for an eye, boy. Don't be comin' 'round here again kickin' rocks. In fact, once you leave, don't you be comin' back round here at all." He grabbed Susant with an iron grip and lifted him to his feet, pushing him off down the road. Susant gasped for air and took off running, glancing back once, not at the man, but at the orphanage. And then it was gone.
He didn't know how long he'd been running before he'd slowed to a walk and stopped. Both of Susant's fists were curled up at his sides. He was shaking. He could feel tears forming in his eyes, but he refused to allow himself to cry.
Susant didn't know how long he waited there, silent and unmoving. When he finally did start walking, his eyes were sharp, his steps level and clear. He didn't utter a single word to anybody, nor a gesture, not even a nod of the head. It was in this manner that young Susant returned to his father's shop.
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The Monastery
FantasyThe Monastery is the story of a prince raised by a cobbler. Set in a world where an Empire has been enslaving country after country for centuries, it follows the tale of young Susant, a boy born into the last free country in the world, his journey w...
