Kokabiel by Eric K. Hasler (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📖

He stood on top of one of the tables and shouted at the top of his voice, “Twenty percent off all wine for the next hour in celebration of the defeat of the Milburgaen army.” The whole place roared with joy, and it seemed as if all at once everyone rushed to the bar. Doogal smiled, and forced his way through the people.

Doogal was now rushed off his feet. Never before had he needed to work so hard. It was at this moment that he started to think himself an idiot for not hiring a bar hand. He started to worry whether or not he had enough wine to go around. Once the punters had finally sat back at their tables he started to feel relieved. He opened a bottle and poured himself a glass. As he raised the glass he noticed Richard glaring at him. Richard was Daldara’s mayor and for the most part he was a reasonable man. Even though it was unsure where Richard came from, the whole village knew him to be an honourable man. Some of the villagers thought that he was from Eomar, but whenever they asked Richard would say, “You wouldn’t believe where I’m from even if you could understand what I was saying.” Unlike the other villagers he would not stoop as low as getting drunk and out of control. Instead he would have one maybe two glasses of wine and just enjoy the company of his villagers. He figured that if he spent time with the denizens then he may be able to help them with certain issues. Besides, being in the winery on a stormy night was a great relief to him. He considered it fun to sit on one glass of wine and listen to the stupid lyrics sung by his drunken villagers. But not tonight, something just didn’t sit well with him. “What’s your problem Richard,” asked Doogal. “I was just wondering how long it will be before Damson rebuilds his army and comes to this village.” “You heard the horse trader, Richard; do you know how long it will take to rebuild the army, hmm?” “That’s true, I have no clue,” said Richard, “But did you know that the horse trader did not come here from Dunubone, and that he has not been back that way in months?” “What are you saying, Richard?” “All I am saying is that it is not wise to pin all your hopes on a man who is drunk on your wine.” The crowds started to rush towards the bar again. Doogal, once again, was worrying whether his supply would last, while struggling to keep up with the demands. The punters had also started to get very loud. Loud like they have never been before; the lyrics were even sicker, and very derogatory towards Damson. The winery had become a mad house. Neither Richard nor Doogal were impressed. Punters were stealing their way upstairs, some were not even worried about going upstairs. Some were dancing on the tables in ways that had never been seen before in the village. Nancy had managed to sell all her foul smelling pies, and was now dancing on the table that the horse trader was sitting at. She was being very suggestive. The horse trader didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he got up from his seat, swept Nancy off her feet, and the table, and carried her upstairs very quickly. A fight had even broken out in the back corner between two men who were arguing about whether Damson had died or not, which started to get a little out of hand. One of the men stood up, grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it over the other man’s head. This was not that well appreciated. So the man with glass in his hair started to throw punches. The punters who had watched all this unfold just stood there cheering the two men on. Then it started to get messy, and the people watching started to join the fight, which extended to a major part of the winery. Tables and chairs were being used as weapons. Wine bottles were being thrown from one side of the winery to the other side. Nancy’s half eaten pies were being thrown into people’s faces. Richard just stood there holding his half empty glass with his mouth open watching. Doogal also stood there watching with a look of absolute horrified surprise. The words “never before have I seen such carnage” dribbled out of Doogal’s lips. “This is what happens when people get drunk on cheap wine,” said Richard.

Just then the door smashed open. In walked a heavily armoured man standing around six foot four. He took three steps into the winery and looked around. The punters stopped making carnage as fear entered the hearts of everyone present on the first floor. They just stood there staring at the man whose armour was covered in blood. What could be seen of his skin looked to be a very pale white. The shocked punters started to whisper to each other, “He looks like a Milburgaen, could the army be outside waiting for orders to destroy us,” said a very faint, and scared whisper. The man walked slowly towards the bar. With every footstep the punters shivered. The closer he got to the bar the slower he walked taking his time to stare at every face in the winery. When he finally reached the bar he growled at Doogal, “Give me a glass of wine.” Doogal poured him a glass and said, “This one is on the house sir.” The man looked at Doogal, snatched the glass up off the bar sculled it back, and then smashed the empty glass onto the floor; he then turned and walked outside.

The mesmerising cacophony echoing out of the chimney stopped and Kokabiel slipped out of his trance. Quietly he changed his position so he could move along on his hands and knees to the edge of the roof. Peering over the edge he could see this Milburgaen warrior walk over to a further six warriors. In a deep growling voice he spoke to the six, “Is there anyone in the other huts?” “No” was the reply, “unless you consider children something worth mentioning.” Laughter amongst the ranks was silenced by the growling voice. “All the adults are in the winery drunk. I can’t see if any of Kyson’s men are in there,” he said. “That doesn’t mean that the whole village isn’t full of Kyson’s men. We are in his territory after all,” said one of the warriors. “Right,” said the growling voice, “Block all the exits to all the huts including the winery, then burn the whole place down. Burn every hut, kill every horse. Make sure nothing survives. If this is one of Kyson’s villages it sure as hell won’t be when we’ve finished.” All seven of the warriors went about their task blocking all doors and killing the animals. Once that was completed they took the straw from the stables and placed them in piles in front of every door and window. They then set the straw piles on fire. Kokabiel was shocked; he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What should I do,” he thought, “should I go down there and tell them to stop?” As he was contemplating standing up and doing this, a sudden realization appeared in his head. ‘If they’re killing and burning everything why would they listen to you?’ While contemplating this invading thought, Kokabiel moved slowly and quietly back towards the chimney where the cacophony had once again started to echo.

The sky was no longer threatening all forms of survival with a ferocious thunder and lightning storm. The black clouds had finally emptied themselves of water and were now a light grey. But there was a smoky ash mist that was rapidly penetrating the sky. With everything finally ablaze the seven warriors climbed on their horses and headed out of the village. The people inside the winery were beginning to realise that there was a fire running through their village. They started to scream and shout, “Open the door! Smash the windows! Let us out of here!” Kokabiel stood up, stuck his face down the chimney and shouted, “That man in the armour has blocked all the doors and set the whole village on fire. The chimney is your only hope. Climb up!” Out of their drunken fear a fight broke out until smoke inside the winery caused some of the villagers to cough. But, that didn’t stop most of them from fighting each other to get to the chimney.

Surprisingly, the smallest man, Doogal was the first to start the smoky ascent to freedom. This makes sense as the fireplace in the winery was behind the bar. Kokabiel stretched his arms and reached down as far as he could and shouted, “Grab my hands.” But it was too late. A cloud of smoke rose up the chimney and got into his mouth and eyes so he moved back towards the fresher air. As he moved a ball of fire shot up out of the chimney. The screams inside the winery stopped. The coughing stopped. The flames did not stop. Kokabiel ran to the edge of the roof and saw that the whole village was completely engulfed in flames. “How do I get down?” he thought. He looked around the edge of the roof looking for some form of exit but he found none. Flames started to burn through the roof, the outside walls of the winery looked to be made of fire. In fact, everywhere he looked there was fire. Putting his head into his hands he whimpered to himself, “There’s no choice. You have to do it. DO IT!” he shouted at himself. Pulling his head out of his hands and standing up he went to where he presumed the back of the winery’s roof was, turned around and with all of his might he propelled himself forward as fast as he could. He ran to the edge of the roof and jumped as far as he could through the fire. He hit the ground with a thud, and then let out a scream of pain as he tumbled over and over until he came to a stop. He tried to stand up but his left foot was hurting, which made him scream again then collapse back to the ground.

Lying there crying, as everything he had ever known was being burnt to the ground he saw a remarkable sight. Walking through the fire was a man, with a bald head. In fact the fire looked as though it just couldn’t be bothered trying to burn this man. With every footstep he took the flames separated themselves from the man and re-converged behind him. Kokabiel shivered as the man approached, bent forward and with his deep seeded eyes peering deep into Kokabiel’s heart asked, “Do you need some assistance young man?” “My foot,” said Kokabiel snivelling, “it hurts.” “That’s because it is broken,” said the man. “Come with me and I will repair you.” The man picked up Kokabiel in both arms and complained, “What did they feed you in that village, you’re heavy!” Kokabiel sniggered.

Looking into the snivelling boys eyes the man asked, “Since you can’t walk and I have to carry you to our destination, would you mind telling me your name?” “I’m Kokabiel,” he said trying his best not to cry. “Well Kokabiel, it is most fortunate for the both of us to meet. My name is Fabariel.” “Thank you for coming to my rescue Fabariel,” said Kokabiel. He smiled and replied, “You’re welcome my new little friend.”