Caught
A scream of rage broke through the air behind him.
Morzan instantly jerked to his right, down a narrow lane but he was too late, a short silver knife had cut into his skin. He swore at the man behind him and dared to look back, it was a choice he instantly regretted. He stumbled over a broken flag and landed in a filthy puddle rolling over his woven sack as he went. Blinking the mud from his eyes, Morzan looked up and nearly swore again, but he didn't have the time to do so.
A tall guard with a glittering chainmail and faint pink scar over a crooked nose towered above him. Despite knowing that he was caught and would likely be beaten, Morzan felt grimly satisfied. The boy had after all been the one to put disfigure this particular guard. He didn't have much time to admire his handiwork, as the guard dragged him out of the puddle and painfully twisted his arm behind his back.
The guard shook him.
"You an't gettin' away this time, boy," croaked the guard.
Morzan felt like swearing but his mouth was filled with gritty filth, so he spat at the guard's feet instead.
The guard shook him again.
"Oh, I can't wait to see them faces when I tell them it were me who'd brought yeh in. They an't gonna believe me, they an't." He laughed loudly, sounding very much like a donkey.
Morzan struggled against his hold, and stopped when a stabbing pain flared into his back. He swayed slightly, and spat more grit onto the ground.
"They an't gonna believe yeh 'cause I an't comin' with yeh, you slimly old cod," Morzan said.
The guard roughly pushed him forward, and he stumbled.
"Yeh an't got a choice," said the guard, as he led him back the way they came. "A good beatin' is all you needs. A beatin' and some brains."
"I gots some brains," said Morzan struggling against the guards grip. "Plenty more than you!"
The guard laughed again sounding, in Morzan's opinion, even more like a donkey.
"No, you an't," the guard said.
"Yeh, I do!"
"Then prove it," the guard told him. Morzan didn't respond he didn't know how to prove that had some brains. He knew he did, Pa had always said he a clever lad but then again Pa had left him. Pa had left and had not come back, years ago maybe? He didn't know. "I didn't think so," said the guard, shoving him forward by the back of his head. "You an't gots no brains."
Morzan gritted his teeth, and wiggled in the guards grip. His shoulder was beginning to hurt him and his feet were bloodied from his run but worst of all, his belly ached with hunger so badly it made him dizzy.
Someone walked past them, and stared at him with an open mouth, watching him as he was dragged away.
A knot formed in his belly, and he looked down at his hands. The last time he was caught stealing he had had the tip of his finger cut off. That couldn't happen again. What if they cut off his hand next time? Or both his hands? How was he going to eat, then? He didn't seem to have a choice, he simply had to free himself.
He leaned back into the idiot guard behind him. As the guard's grip loosened he pulled away, trying to free himself, but the guard had too firm of a hold on him and he stumbled. The guard cursed at him, calling him things he didn't want repeat or think about, and tightened his grip even more, hastening their pace. He dragged Morzan along, ignoring the boy's curses and attempts to free himself from the iron-hard grip until one of his fellows came and inquired after them.
Morzan did not listened to them interact, having decided it was best to behave nice he looked down at his bloodied, bare feet. He didn't want to go with them, they'd bring him to an orphanage for sure. As much as Morzan didn't want to admit it, he was afraid. He was afraid and he was hungry and he didn't want to be beaten for stealing. He shook himself, he was stronger than that, fear was nothing, it was a weakness- he couldn't allow himself to be afraid. Fear was for the weak, and Morzan was not weak.
He looked up at the guard's fellow as he bent down to Morzan's level. There was a woman standing next him. Looking at the woman, Morzan started. She wasn't wearing a dress, but a finely made golden tunic and blue legging that showed her body as women should not. He gulped. The woman smiled at him, and he turned away. "What's your name?" the man asked.
"Mor-Morzan, sir," he said, meeting the man's eyes. Morzan swallowed and shifted, feeling the guard tighten his grip. His shoulder was truly hurting him.
"Do you know who I am?" the man asked.
Morzan shook his head- how was he to know every man's name in Furnost? He clenched his hands into fists, and scowled.
"My name is Jago," said the man, "and this is Cerys. We're both Riders, Morzan. You do know what Dragon Riders are?"
"He's not brainless, Jago," the woman said snappishly, before the man's words registered in Morzan's mind. "Of course, he knows who the Riders are. There's no need to insult him." Cerys turned quickly to Morzan. "Your mother and father are no longer around for you, correct?"
Morzan looked down, and didn't answer.
"Answer her, boy," the guard growled at him. "She asked yeh ah question, show some respect an' answer her."
"You may take your leave," the woman said to the guard. "You've done a fine enough job as it is, Kurn, we'll take it from here."
Looking up in horror, Morzan felt as the guard hesitantly released him and stepped away. "Good day," he said, and then he was gone, leaving Morzan to his fate. He looked at the Dragon Riders in front of him and swallowed, hoping that the stories of noble men and women were true and not the fables he believed them to be.
