Ascent of the Unwanted (The Chronicle of Unfortunate Heroes Book 1) (11 page)

“Why does it require a death sentence when someone flees from training?” Jador, the last of the class asked. Jador stood close to Babin with large blue eyes taking in his surroundings.

“The answer to that lies far back in our history,” Olarin began. “As was taught to me something precious had to be kept and the Roh’Darharim were tasked to guard it. For centuries we guarded this precious thing and peace swept across all the kingdoms. But
what occurs in all long periods of peace is training becomes lax, and the thing that was supposed to be guarded was stolen. The Roh’Darharims almost regained the object but a lapsed student, Ashur was his name I believe, fled and joined the thieving group. With the aid of the student the Roh’Darharim were captured. The robbers killed all but twelve of our brethren. From then on, It was then determined anyone who fled was either a traitor or a coward. The Roh’Darharim determined that in either case, death was merited.”

The class looked at Olarin in silence, soaking in what the old Roh’Darharim had told them.

“What’s the third reason?” Lawt finally asked.

Olarin looked amazed, not at the question, but by who had asked it. “The third reason is for you. I hope after seeing what happened here today that each of you will do your best to help each other. While training is your sole responsibility it is much easier when everyone in the herd lends a hand. The discipline that was handed out here today is a rare occurrence, maybe every few decades or so. We do our best to prevent such an event from happening. When Ulaf first arrived he was arrogant and refused help of any kind. He was strong in many of the beginning classes and therefore thought himself better than the others. Not only did he mock his classmate’s efforts to better themselves but he snubbed them when they asked for help. Eventually, as is always the case, there came a class that he could not grasp. Mounted Wilderness Movement and Tracking I believe it was. At first his pride prevented him from asking his classmates for aid. Later, it was too late. His classmates refused to help him. The fact that Ulaf had asked for help and been snubbed was too much for the rash and prideful man. He fled. Please, use this. Learn from it. Let Patrician’s death mean something to the Roh’Darharim.”

A harsh bump woke Miranda from her deep slumber. With a start she sat halfway up which was a mistake due to the pain. Her muscles ached but she could breathe easier than before. She went to scratch an itch on her nose. Pain reminded her it was broken but it did not hurt nearly as bad as it did yesterday. Despite her body’s protests she moved to look around. She was sitting in an open bed wagon moving through the country side surrounded by large hemp bags. Wool blankets had been placed underneath her as a crude mattress. Not the most comfortable of resting places but warmer than what she could have been sleeping on.

Miranda twisted around to look at the driver of the cart. She could not tell much about him from behind. His greasy hair hung in a crude ponytail with a dirty cloak shrouding the rest of him, but by the way he crouched he looked a little bigger than her.

“Don’t worry `bout the goods,” the man said without turning. “They’re durable and can handle a little bit of shoving `bout. Make yourself comfortable. Not that you need my permission. You‘ve been out for most of these past few days. You were so out of it that I almost regretted picking you up. Thought I had wasted my time, y’know?” The man looked back and smiled, a few black holes showed between his yellow teeth. His face was dirty and dark wisps of scraggily beard flew in all directions. Miranda called it a beard. In some places it looked like the man had just not bothered to shave. In others the hair was down to his chest. His pale eyes stared at her as he assessed his passenger anew.

“Days?” Miranda asked puzzled. “Have I been asleep that long?”

“Sleep? I would say more near death. No need to thank me though, missy. I reckon I do this kind of thing for just about anyone, and for wisps much less bonnie than you. Name’s Uriss by the way. And yours is?”

“Uh, Fiona,” Miranda said with only the slightest pause. She was not certain whether the man had seen the notice on the tree but there was no need to push her luck.

“Fiona huh? Pretty name. Pretty name for a pretty lass. No need to worry too much `bout the nose either. I set that thing soon’s I saw it. Had plenty of them myself, broken noses that is. There will be a little bit of a crook in it now, but not too much, this being its first time broke and all.”

“Thank you.”

“Like I said before, no need to thank me. Just being a fair citizen and its more worthwhile if it’s for a pretty lady.”

Miranda could not help but blush. Despite the man’s crude appearance she was beginning to like him. “Well, if you don’t mind extending more kindness, sir, I am feeling a little hungry.”

Miranda was embarrassed about how rude she was being. The man had already done more for her than he had too, and now she was asking him for his food. She was very hungry though. That was about as mildly as she could put it. She was famished. Looking herself over she cringed for a different reason. Her skirt was covered in dried blood. In some places the blood had congealed in deep folds, sticking the material together. Something glittered in one of the creases, but before she could get a better look Uriss answered her.

“Well, I might be able to rustle up an early lunch. I hope you don’t mind hard cheese and bread. It’s about all I can afford for these long treks through the caravan roads, and I’m no hunter so there ain’t no meat,” he said with a hint of agitation.

“That would be splendid,” Miranda said, but maybe she had misjudged the man’s nature.

Miranda did not know how weak she had become until she tried to eat. The bread and cheese were good and filling but chewing was a chore. She wished it were a paste she could poor down her gullet. The entire time she ate Uriss watched her. He ate as well but it did not distract him too much from the main focus of his attention.

“So, Fiona, how is it that I found you in such a state. You one of the people that church is after?” Uriss finally asked.

“I don’t think so,” Miranda lied. “I was walking through the woods when I fell on some slick moss. I hurt myself badly and was looking for help. That’s when I came across the burning house with those poor people. I guess seeing them hanging made me faint.”

Thinking about the loss of her family made Miranda start to cry again. Her story would allow her to shed some tears, but not too many. She regained her composure and continued the chore of chewing on the cheese.

“Poor people? Well I suppose. They seemed well off to me,” Uriss said pulling again on another tuft of whiskers, this time to keep the wisps away from his mouth while he chewed. “Some people give and some take. Some people want things more than others, or have the power to get the things they want from others. I guess those people just had something that someone else wanted.”

Miranda wanted to change the subject. Talking so candidly upset her and Uriss’ was certainly pushing a tender spot. She needed to change the topic before she said something she might regret. “Where are we heading, sir?”

“We?” Uriss said standing. “I am heading to the city of Padin Tier.”

“Please, may I go with you, sir?”

“You don’t have a family to worry about or worry over?” Uriss asked, an odd gleam in his eye.

“No, sir. I lost them. I was trying to reach a destination where I could start my life anew. I see no reason why Padin Tier could not be that place.”

“Well,” Uriss said looking into the sky, “I don’t see why not either. Very well, you can ride with me as far as the city.”

“I have no money to pay for passage, sir,” Miranda interjected. She did not want to get to the city and have Uriss feel she had swindled him.

“For now, your company will be payment.”

When Miranda had the opportunity she took herself down to the river they were following and found a secluded spot. The river wound its way through the hill country roughly to the north occasionally meandering east. It managed to stay sequestered between the hills encountering few villages until it finally emptied into the North Sea miles away from the great port city Padin Tier.

She felt like a walking corpse and she needed to do something about it. Her clothes needed washing as large dried clots of blood still remained in the stiff folds of her skirt. As she began to disrobe the glimmer caught her eye again. She pulled her skirt off completely to get a better look. Something was embedded in the dried blood. She took a hold of both ends of her skirt and ripped the fold open. The blood gave way with the clot sticking only to one side of the skirt now. In the middle of the clot was the large sapphire Gordon had given to her.

Grabbing hold of the stone she tore it from her skirt. The vile piece of corundum made her sick up and she prepared to hurl the offensive stone into the river. She hesitated, and that was enough. The emotion died and reason took its place. She had no money. What did she expect to do when she got to Padin Tier? Find another person to take care of her? She knew no one there, so why would anyone take her in. The fact that she wanted people to take care of her was part of the reason she was here. That wanting had clouded her to the possibility of anything bad happening to her.

Carefully she set the sapphire aside, keeping it in her eyesight until she washed the dried blood out of her skirt. Finishing that, she carefully placed the stone in the skirt’s pocket and began washing her blouse. When her clothes were fully cleaned she took off her undergarments and submerged her naked body.

The river was cold but that only helped her feel alive. The waters surrounded her, washing the caked on dirt and blood off of her smooth skin. She had not felt this good in days.

After bathing she sat on the riverbank waiting for her clothes to dry, letting the silence fill her heart with a peace she relished and needed. The gurgling of the river as it passed was a whisper of calm, reassuring her that as long as she was strong everything would be all right. The day passed into the evening and she eventually pulled herself from her solitary meditation, getting up to check on her clothes. They were almost dry.

A twig snapped.

She whipped her head around to look. One of the bushes not far away swayed back and forth. Someone was there, or had been there until now. Quickly, she got dressed and headed back to Uriss.

He lay bundled in his blankets snoring next to the fire. Should she wake him? Surely he would want to know they were being watched. Maybe she imagined it, taking the actions of the local wildlife as the act of spies. Miranda settled into her bed in the wagon and lay herself down. She steeled herself against sleep. She knew the sleep would be frightful and unfulfilling but she needed it. She took three deep breaths to calm herself and relaxed into the horrors.

The kingdom of Tredale had two main ports. The city of Armeston was the closer, being on the eastern shore. Padin Tier was the major port on the northern sea. The Great Merchant’s Road cut through Tredale connecting these two main cities. To Miranda’s surprise Uriss did not follow the road. He preferred the back ways that could barely be called hunting trails.

Conversation was sparse and was really only when Uriss wanted her to perform some task. Miranda did them willingly since she had no other way to pay for the cost of the journey, but she found the routes he chose tedious and unnecessary. When Miranda suggested a better traveled road Uriss gave her a look that held very little kindness and a lot of threat.

“The way I travel is my business, girl.” Uriss spat. “You make me think I made a mistake taking you with me.”

After that they spoke even less. Uriss would grunt and point with his chin whenever he wanted her to cook or clean after a meal. The kind man that she had spoken to on the first day seemed to have completely disappeared.

The hills of Tredale spanned north to south before they rose into the mountains through the entire country. The days spread into a week and the tension grew between the two travelers. Miranda now only spoke to keep herself company. The grief she felt was still raw but it no longer occupied every moment of her day. It was only when she closed her eyes that the grief was overwhelming.

In the middle of the second week of travel Uriss looked at her with the odd gleam in his eye again. He had not looked at her like that since the first day she met him. Miranda stepped off the slow moving wagon to get away.

“We aren’t far from Padin Tier, child. I’d say we are not more than a few hours’ travel. What say you to setting up camp tonight and getting there in the morning?” Uriss asked tugging at his beard, that odd gleam never wavering.

“I suppose,” Miranda said, not wanting to anger him.

The nightmare began after dinner. Uriss had started drinking when they stopped. He threw down his plate and began barking orders to Miranda.

“Get those cleaned up and refill the water barrel on the wagon. I want fresh water tomorrow.” he yelled, pointing at the plates. “That dinner was not worth the maggots that will be chewing on it two weeks from now.”

Miranda gathered the plates and went to the wagon to claim the empty water buckets. She didn’t bother looking at the man. The lascivious gleam in his eyes had not left his face despite his angry tone.

“Get over here, girl!”

Miranda put down the buckets and ran!

Stupid! Of course the vile man had intentions from the beginning. She bolted through the forest, unprepared for how dense the underbrush would be. The branches and vines pulled at her clothes and scratched at her face.

“Come back, girl!” Uriss bellowed.

The foliage provided no mercy. It slowed her considerably. She pushed through, uncaring of how deep the branches dug into her skin. She fell into a dry wash. The pain of the awkward landing evaporated as she saw the clear path in front of her. She didn’t know how long she ran. Her chest burned and still she ran. She needed to hide. She climbed up the dry creek bed and into some cover, panting. She tried not to cry but the tears would not stop.

The scream came out of her mouth as soon as the hand grabbed her ankle.

“It’s time I took payment for your passage with me,” Uriss said, pulling her down in to the gulch.

“You told me my company was enough.” Miranda tried to pull free.

“Exactly,” the man slurred, “and now I want company!”

With one hand Uriss squeezed her arm painfully while the other was working his leggings down his waist. Miranda screamed, yanking her arm trying to get free, but his hand held her like a vice. She kicked at him continuing her screams. The man squeezed harder, laughing as he pushed her down.

She felt his weight on top of her. His free hand, gnarled and dirty, groped at her skirts trying to get them up. She screamed again. She caught him in the face, and pushed against it trying to get the man off. The laughter continued and as he worked at her skirt. She felt the awful hunger of his manhood pushing against her stomach. She needed him off her now. Her hand crept across his face feeling the hairs of his beard, the bulge of his nose, the indentions of his eyes. She pushed her thumb into the socket.

Uriss screamed and she pushed harder. She felt a pop and warm gel covered her thumb. He jerked away, the upper half of his body pulling from her. For a brief instant he let her go, both of his hands going to his damaged eye.

“You bitch!” the man screamed, looking down at her with his remaining eye.

Miranda tried desperately to get away but he still sat on her, his weight pinning her. He hit her. Hard. Her throat on fire, she screamed yet again. It felt like she screamed for hours as he hit her again, and again, and again.