The Dirt Eaters by Dennis Foon Read Free Book Online

knows he mustn’t trust Saint and his silver tongue. But why not gain whatever skills he can while he remains here? Saint had said that Roan wouldn’t survive outside the camp without Saint’s protection, and he can’t help but feel the truth of that. There is so much he doesn’t know.
    Roan is suddenly aware of Brother Raven’s presence. Raven doesn’t approach him, though, so Roan pretends he hasn’t noticed. Walking alone, he winds his way to his tent. He will practice some of the exercises he learned this morning. Surely there’s no harm in that.

THE PROPHET’S DESTINY
    IT IS SAID OUR WORLD ONCE SHIMMERED WITH MESSAGES CARRIED ON BEAMS OF LIGHT, CONNECTING THOUSANDS OF CITIES. IN THE WARS THE LIGHT WAS SNUFFED OUT AND ONLY ONE CITY SURVIVED. OUR CITY. THE CITY.
    â€” ORIN’S HISTORY OF THE FRIEND
    T HE FIRST SIGNS OF SPRING are the dandelions that rise defiant despite the unyielding ground. The land around the Friends’ camp is barely thawed, but the weeds are bigger than any Roan’s ever seen, and every part of them is gathered and eaten. The snow cricket, like Roan, is particularly fond of the tender new leaves, while the Brothers are most interested in the flowers, which are fermented and made into wine.
    There’s much to be done. Care and training of horses, relentless domestic chores, crafting and repairing of weapons, grounds maintenance. In the months that have passed, Roan’s learned that each Brother has a unique schedule. He’s adapted to his own routine with remarkable ease. It distracts him from the sadness and anger and confusion that have plagued him since the destruction of Longlight. But there’s no escaping his pain at night, when he’s haunted by memories of his parents, Stowe, and all the other people he loved.
    This morning, like every morning, is martial arts with Brother Wolf. Wolf spends much time showing his disciples “kill” points: spots on the body where a well-placed blow will cripple or slay the opponent. Roan has never questioned the instruction, though he doubts its intent is solely defensive. He works hard on his technique during the sessions with Brother Wolf, but early in the morning or late at night, alone in his tent, he practices his forms alone. This solo practice is part of another secret he keeps: what happens in his dreams.
    The dreams come to him unexpectedly. Sometimes he’s sleeping, sometimes he’s awake.
    THE MOUNTAIN LION PACES THREATENINGLY BEFORE ROAN.
    A HOOK-SWORD APPEARS IN ROAN’S HAND. THE LION LEAPS, ITS CLAWS RIPPING ROAN’S SKIN. ROAN SWINGS THE BLADE, SLICING THE LION ACROSS THE SHANK. THE LION RIPS ROAN’S THROAT, LEAVING HIM A BLOODY MESS ON THE GRASS.
    â€œ DON’T HOLD BACK, ” THE LION SAYS.
    â€œ BUT I’LL KILL YOU, ” ROAN WHISPERS.
    â€œ YOU MUST DO WHAT IS NECESSARY. TRY AGAIN. ”
    ROAN’S BLOOD FLOWS BACK INTO HIS BODY, AND HIS WOUND CLOSES UP. HE STANDS, HOLDING THE SWORD. THE LION LEAPS.
    The dream comes again and again. Roan has learned to strike hard and fast, managing to overcome the great beast as often as he himself is struck down. But he remains uneasy when it comes to applying these skills with Brother Wolf. He feels torn, keeping this secret from his master. Maybe one day he’ll feel secure enough to show Brother Wolf how adept he’s become. He would love to see the surprise on his master’s face.
    Every afternoon, Roan sand paints with Brother Stinger. He works contentedly now, but the skill was hard-earned. Initially he lacked the patience to sit cross-legged for hours, tapping out a few grains of sand at a time. Instead of focusing on the work, he would fidget, and his mind would wander to the terrible memory of the Fire Hole, or to the moment he lost his sister’s hand, or to his fights with the dream lion. Inevitably, his funnel would slip, the red-brown sand would miss its mark, and Brother