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Quote by Sofía Sahlym

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Antes de la cosecha: 14 cuentos otoñales

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Sofía Sahlym

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“It would have been pleasant, the thought came to him, to be able to lay down their weapons on the darkening grass. To walk away from this place, from what they were being made to do, past the ruins, along the river and into the woods beyond. To find a forest pool, wash their wounds and drink from the cool water and then sit beneath the trees, out of the wind, silent as the summer night came down. Not in this life.”

Blood BrothersFight To The DeathTragic Ending
Book:The Lions of Al-Rassan
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“It ought never to have been so swift, so much like a dance or a dream. It was as if there had been music playing somewhere, almost but not quite heard. He had fought those five men side-by-side with Rodrigo Belmonte of Valledo, whom he had never seen in his life, and it had been as nothing had ever been before, on a battlefield or anywhere else. It had felt weirdly akin to having doubled himself. To fighting as if there were two hard-trained bodies with the one controlling mind. They hadn't spoken during the fight. No warnings, tactics. It hadn't even lasted long enough for that. He ought to have been elated after such a triumph, perhaps curious, intrigued. He was deeply unsettled instead. Restless. Even a little afraid, if he was honest with himself... Come, brother; Rodrigo Belmonte of Valledo had said today as five hard men with swords had walked forward to encircle the two of them. Shall we show them how this is done? They had shown them. Brother. He had looked at Belmonte after, and had seen - with relief and apprehension, both - a mirror image of that same strangeness. As if something had gone flying away from each of them and was only just coming back. The Valledan had looked glazed, unfocused. At least, Ammar had thought, it isn't only me.”

WarriorsBlood BrothersSwordfightRodrigo And Ammar
Book:The Lions of Al-Rassan
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“But she had never, ever heard Rodrigo speak of another man the way he'd talked about Ammar ibn Khairan during the long, waiting winter just past. The way the man sat a horse, handled a blade, a bow, devised strategies, jested, spoke of history, geography, the properties of good wine. Even the way he wrote poetry. "Are you in love with this man?" she'd asked her husband once in Fezana that winter - more than half jealous, if truth were told. "I suppose I am, in a way," Rodrigo had replied after a moment. "Isn't it odd." It wasn't, really, Miranda thought, on that hill by Silvenes.”

WarriorsBlood BrothersRodrigo And Ammar
Book:The Lions of Al-Rassan
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