Ascent of the Unwanted (The Chronicle of Unfortunate Heroes Book 1) (18 page)

“Now that both my hands will be free, I can make it easier on us,” Oswald said, still rigging himself to the large dog. “I will tell you when to move. I can’t make you invisible but I can make you seem to be somebody and someplace you’re not. Just keep moving forward and they won’t catch you.”

Miranda had to restrain the urge to laugh when she saw Oswald fully strapped in. He looked almost cuddly. The hideousness of his deformity and the intimidation of the dog’s size combined to be something more benevolent than their parts. It was obvious Oswald felt more comfortable with his friend beneath him as well. Anytime Miranda had seen him before the natural expressions on his face had a background of discomfort.

Oswald’s hands moved together, then separated while he began his incantations. Miranda fidgeted eager to get out of this town. She was about to leave him behind when he spoke in something other than that odd tongue.

“I think that should suffice.”

“I don’t feel any different,” Miranda said.

“Of course you don’t. I didn’t change you. I prefer subtler methods. To everyone else you will appear to be a young boy and walking about five paces behind our actual selves.”

“So we can go now?”

“Just waiting on you.” Oswald said while Sampson walked out into the open.

It took all of Miranda’s will not to run. She had to trust that Oswald knew what he was doing. Why had she waited? She could probably have walked out of town on her own. The only person who knew she was detained was the warden. Oswald however, was a conspicuous beacon of ‘look over here.’ How had someone as physically incapable as him survive on his own? He was obviously intelligent but in this world strength ruled. Perhaps there was hope for her after all.

The two made it out of town without incident. Miranda could only assume that Oswald’s little trick worked. Wouldn’t that be the great joke of the ages, her trusting an insane man who thought he could perform magic.

“As I asked before, young lady, where are we heading?”

Miranda assumed they had made it far enough away from the town to reply safely. “I was heading to Wynarche,” she finally conceded. She guessed that her impromptu blabbing earlier with her name was another of Oswald’s little tricks. There probably was not much point in lying to him.

“There is a purpose to this I presume?”

“Not a noble one,” Miranda said.

“That’s not for me to judge, I am just here to assist. While it may or may not be your fault for my capture you helped me and Sampson escape. I am indebted and wish to help in your endeavors.”

“Awfully wordy for, ‘Can I tag along',’” Miranda said. “You don’t even know what I am planning.”

“So what are you going to do?” 

“I am going to kill the baron’s son.”

“I know just enough about you to know you’re not a contract killer so this must be revenge?”

Miranda did not respond. She continued to walk down the road. Oswald sighed. “I already know I can’t talk you out of this. Wynarche is less than a week away. We can think of how on the way.”

Traveling with Oswald was more comfortable than traveling alone. He always had food and, after she was able to convince Sampson to bathe, the dog was a warm delight to snuggle up with at night. She still felt uneasy and the sleep was never restful but that was not the company’s fault.

They were walking in the early morning after a delightful porridge breakfast Oswald had prepared with fresh berries. The little gnome was turning out to be a regular gentleman. Miranda wondered not for the first time what other bags of tricks he had up his sleeve.

“You made me tell you my name the first day we met didn’t you,” she accused in a friendly manner.

“No, I did not make you. I gave you an impulse. If you’re prepared you can resist it.”

“And you can make me appear someplace else and look like somebody else?”

“Yes, but never too far away, and the illusion works best if you look similar to what I am trying to convey. I can do more complex things but I have to sacrifice filters with the more complex spells. If I wanted to make you look like a giant to everyone else I could, but I would not be able to filter the spell from you and you could see it. This can distract you and make you act less natural.”

“So I look like a little boy to you?”

“I said similar. You’re a fetching little waif. A good size lad of thirteen years matches your size.”

“And you conjure food, I like that.”

“Some, but most is just proper packing. It’s always easier to do things without magic. I have offensive weapons but it wears on me. I concentrated more on the gathering and manipulation of information.”

“That’s not much help.”

“It can be conditionally useless yes, but I have gotten by. It teaches preparation. With information and preparation there is not much you can’t do. Wait... Do you hear something?” Oswald stopped Sampson in the middle of the road looking cautiously to the left.

A man stepped out of the foliage walking in front of them. “Isn’t this a pretty little poppet? Didn’t the poppet see the signs? This here is a toll road.”

“I saw no such sign, sir. If you would please allow my grandfather and I to pass we can continue our pilgrimage,” Miranda said. Five men moved onto the road behind them cutting them off from escape.

“I tell you what, old man. You give us the girl, and we let you through,” the man in front of them said. Someone from behind grabbed Miranda on the shoulder, Miranda spun and reached for the knife that she had pocketed from Rollo. The blade sank deep into the man’s ear and he fell to the ground without even a scream.

More men came from the bushes beside the road. Miranda ran to Oswald to protect him as one of the thugs had gotten close to him. Sampson’s teeth were in the man’s forearm rending tendon from bone. The screaming man tried in vain to wrestle his limb from the dog’s bite while fishing for his knife. Oswald’s hands were moving and he began to mutter. Miranda grabbed the thug’s knife from his belt as Sampson had him occupied and slit his neck, ending his pain. She felt her world spin as a fist’s impact sent her flying into Oswald.

“No Miranda, don’t!” The old man screamed, halting his spell.

Her ears crackled and the feeling of air being forced into her lungs pushed against her insides, trying to force them through her skin. There was an explosion but her ears, still ringing from the pressure, muffled it to a soft boom.

Miranda pushed herself off the ground, staggering with vertigo. She could make out the bandits doing the same. Oswald and Sampson were both on the ground unconscious. She readied the knife to defend them.

“It looks like you were an expensive heist,” the man who had blocked them said. “We better make this worth our while.”

He moved and Miranda stabbed. His arm was not where she expected and the back of his hand slapped her. She fell but one of the men caught her from behind in a pair of crushing arms. He pinned her arms against her body preventing her from moving.

The lead man grabbed the front of her dress and yanked down exposing her breasts. “Pretty thing. I bet we can get days of payment from you.”

Not again. Not ever again. She would not be violated against her will. She kicked her leg up, violently kneeing the lead thugs chin. She felt the bite of his teeth punch through his tongue and heard the teeth crack.

The man’s head whipped back, then it was gone. His body ended with a truncated neck. She was thrown head first into a rock and the darkness came.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Are you hurt?” the handsome stranger asked.

“Umm… No, but I must look an absolute fright,” Miranda said. She stood and gathered herself, tying her dress up where there had been tears and hiding any flesh that dared peek out inappropriately.

The two men who had saved her were stark contrasts. A tall handsome dark haired man who would fit in any court in the kingdom and the other a beastly looking fiend dressed in finery fit for a noble. They both carried themselves well, with the beast man hefting a great deal more mass to make up for his companion’s long frame.

“Erik, Ramona will be coming along soon. She can tend to the woman. We should scan the area for any of this rabble’s companions. They may be running to some base camp close by to report what has happened.”

“Of course, Lawt. Ma’am, if you would wait here our surgeon will be along to tend to any wounds.”

The two mounted their horses and went into the wood line, one on either side of the road.

“Let’s get out of here,” Miranda said starting down the road.

“It would be prudent to wait, Miranda.”

“I am not waiting here to be taken into custody and escorted back to Paden Tier for murder.”

“Miranda, do you know what those men were? Those were Cavaliers. You won’t be able to lose them.”

“I can damn well try.” With that, she quickened her pace leaving the small man behind to remount Sampson. He would catch up. Even with Oswald on his back Sampson could easily outpace her.

The pace Miranda kept was brisk. She estimated she had covered half a day’s walk in two hours. She was winded and her legs were tired. “What was that you said about not being able to lose them, my wise counselor?”

“I would not be boasting too soon, lass. Look just ahead.”

Miranda looked up the path. In the center of the road was her handsome hero, mounted on his horse waiting. To turn now would make her look even guiltier and a mounted man would catch her before she could get anywhere.

With an inward sigh she slowed her pace to a more comfortable gait, squared her shoulders, and walked to her captor. He did not move. He patiently waited for her. A chagrin approach might give her some leniency but she did not bother. She was tired of running and tired of being unjustly treated.

“Is there a reason you’re following us?” she demanded.

“Ma’am, I do not understand why you would imperil yourself further without at least seeing my surgeon. She is the best I know,” the Cavalier said.

“Do I look hurt to you?” Miranda asked.

“Miranda, this fine young man is just concerned with your welfare. Good day to you, sir. I am Oswald.” The little man made the same peculiar gesture with his left hand that Miranda had seen when he first met her. “May I ask your name and your business on this road?”

“My name is Erik, and I am on official business to investigate events in the Earldom of Wynarche,” Erik said.

“He is lying. I know Wynarche. It’s a Barony, not an Earldom.” Miranda spat.

“He is telling the truth as he knows it Miranda,” Oswald said.

“I do speak the truth. It is no longer a Barony. The young Earl has control of lands vaster than a Barony. This is a recent event which I myself have only been made aware. There is, however, something amiss about you two. I am not prone to blurt out my business. So tell me, what is a young waif, and an old…man doing traveling together on this road.”

Before Miranda could speak Oswald said. “We are traveling to Wynarche ourselves on business of a much more personal nature.”

“It’s okay, Lawt, these two just need escorts,” Erik called to the wood line.

The beastly fellow she had seen earlier stepped quietly out of the woods, leading his mammoth of a horse.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. As you probably have guessed, I am called Lawt. Please, do not be afraid of my companion’s appearance. Though he looks intimidating, I promise he wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Lawt said, with a small wrinkle of what Miranda could only guess was a smile.

Erik chuckled. “And here comes the third in our party. Miranda and Oswald this is Ramona, our surgeon.”

Coming down the road was a young lady in a black tunic, a blue cloak, and riding upon a sandy mare. Her moon face and dull blonde hair only helped to enhance the drabness of her brown eyes. “So you’re the two who decided to mess up my day by getting caught by the most obvious brigands on this side of the Great Jarkon River.”

“Charming to the last, Ramona,” Erik said.

“She does have a point.” Oswald said with a smile.

“And for goodness sake girl, have some decency and wear something appropriate for traveling. Walking about with your breasts falling out like a common whore does not help things.” Ramona said with a look of disgust.

“Look, you greasy haired cow,” Miranda shot back. “Just because the only way you could be presentable is to dress like a man doesn’t give you the right to act like a holy priest of Beshra.”

“Well this is going splendidly,” Erik said with a chuckle.

“Put a muzzle on that bitch you just brought up or I will muzzle her myself,” Miranda said.

“That pretty face must be used to getting her way. I am sure my belt across her bony ass will set her straight!” Ramona threatened.

“Ladies, please,” Oswald interjected. “Ramona, it is a pleasure to meet you, although I fear you will regret some of your words. Anyways, I am Oswald and this is Miranda. Now that we are all acquainted and we will be traveling together it might be wise to at least try to get along. Would you all like something to eat? I may be able to whip something up.”

“That is most gracious, Oswald,” Lawt said. “I will start a fire. Then I think it would be best to go ahead and rest here for the day and get familiar with each other.”

“Interesting. Make us feel comfortable, put us at ease, let down our guard, maybe get a little dirt on us?” Miranda accused.

“Um…Why don’t you two ladies go down to the river and see if you can get Miranda more presentable,” Oswald said.

Miranda shot him a withering stare that would rival the mythical gorgon but smiled to Ramona. “After you, my lady.”

Ramona snorted and headed down a deer run toward the sounds of running water. They walked in silence until they reached the river. Miranda undressed and began to bath in a small clear calm bend. Ramona jumped with a start, “Has that old man beaten you?”

Miranda looked at herself. “These are bruises from this morning.”

“No, those are bruises from this morning.” Ramona said pointing. “Those bruises there on your back are much older. An untrained eye would have missed them as they are almost faded but they are within the last two weeks. And those faint scars …you have been whipped!”

Miranda could not muster any more pride, sitting in a river completely nude and apparently more exposed than she realized. She could not let the most benevolent man she had met these last few years take any blame, no matter her peril. “Oswald did not do this.”

“You’re a criminal,” Ramona accused.

“No!”

“Only criminals get whipped in Tredale!”

“I was not a criminal when I was whipped. The man that bought me from my kidnapper did this.”

“Now you expect me to believe there is slavery in Tredale? A practice outlawed for two centuries?”

“I expect nothing from you.”

“If your story is true Lawt and Erik can bring them to justice,” Ramona said.

“I think my knife slitting his throat was enough justice. That is how your party found me on this road, unfortunately.”

Miranda sank as far down into the river as she could. She could not read what Ramona was thinking. This hag of a woman needed to leave her alone.

“It is convenient that there is no one to bring to justice but I still think my friends would like to know about what you have told me,” Ramona said.

“That would please you wouldn’t it. Letting your friends know my body is tainted. That I finally gave in, because it was easier than the stinging burn of the whips. That I eventually sold my body with an eagerness of a new bride as barter for the skills I needed. Did your pretty Erik not tell you how many brigands had been killed before he found us? They were slain by my hand.” Ramona stood up, a mix of shame, fear, and anger ran across her face. Miranda was done feeling like the victim. It was time to see what this woman was truly made of. “Do you not know what kind of danger you are in now, being alone with me? Do you think that the mighty Lawt could save you from me if I wished you gone from this world?”

Ramona stared at her, and then laughed. Not a fake laugh, a long and heartfelt laugh. She laughed so hard she fell to her knees. “I am so sorry, Miranda,” Ramona finally said. “I don’t doubt you are formidable but that was a little melodramatic. Oswald was right. I regret the words I said earlier. You must have been truly hidden away from this world and your scars put truth in your words. You have made me aware of my own weaknesses. I am sorry about whatever you have been through.”

The surge of embarrassment from the woman’s laughter shamed her more. She had been trying too hard. “I am sorry for threatening you. I felt like you had me in a corner.”

“I had it coming. I can be such a bitch sometimes. Now let me see about making you presentable.”

By the time the women had made it to the camp the men already had game caught, cleaned, and cooking on an open fire.

“I see you didn’t waste any time?” Ramona said. “And where did you get mead?”

Erik gave his best innocent face and pointed his cup at Oswald.

“You never said you had mead!” Miranda said.

“Well this is a unique occasion, I thought it would help.”

“Then what are you waiting for, old man, get some over here,” Ramona said.

“Certainly, my lady, you two seem to be in better moods. I was half afraid only one of you would come back.”

Miranda laughed. She could not help it. All the nervousness and fear she had felt dissolved away. She had confessed her sins to Ramona and the woman laughed in her face. These men were not here for her. It seemed they were telling the truth.

The new acquaintances sat and talked into the evening, and the campfire gave off a warm comforting glow. Miranda felt like she belonged, like she was at home. She caught on early that Ramona was possessive of Lawt, whose appearance became less beastly throughout the night. But whatever possessiveness of Lawt she had was nothing to the jealousy she felt about Erik. The pretty man may not have noticed but the woman waited on him hand and foot. She disguised it poorly by making rude remarks about his mannerisms but there was not a moment in the evening when she could not be seen looking at him. Still, Miranda felt safe, and she had not felt that way in a long time. She always had to prepare herself to go to sleep, the nightmares always waiting for her. Tonight she did know when she fell asleep, and nothing was there to menace her dreams.

When she awoke the camp was cleaned and a plate of food was resting next to her. She could hear Lawt, Erik, and Oswald discussing the Earldom of Wynarche. She had to get to Wyne, the biggest city in the area and the home of the earl. She could only assume Gordon was the young earl which they were talking about. They would have to pass through several small villages but Erik and Lawt estimated they could reach it by tomorrow afternoon at a comfortable pace on horseback.

Oswald assured them Sampson could keep up with the horses and it was decided Miranda would ride double with Ramona. Despite the breakthrough yesterday it was not a thought she was enthusiastic about. She would sooner ride with the beast man and the spike he called a hand. As long as it got her to Gordon she would tolerate it. Miranda did not fool herself into thinking she would live much longer than reaching the earl.

As they moved into the Earldom Miranda realized she was moving past areas she knew. They looked much older now and much worse for wear. Fields lay fallow which should not. Even the planted fields were overrun with weeds vying for soil that was not tilled.

As they passed a curve in the road Erik motioned for the group to stop. Ahead was a large oak tree, bodies hanging from its boughs like overripe fruit.

“This doesn’t look good,” Oswald said.

“You do like to understate things, don’t you,” Erik answered. “No help for them now. Let’s push on.”

Within the next mile they came to a small town. They could smell the place before they entered. The main roads were muddy and the few people the party could see were caked in filth. There were children but there was no playing. The mood was somber and grim. Four men stood out in stark contrast to the atmosphere, their clean green and white jerkins separated them from their surroundings. They stood off to the side of the road watching the new travelers ride into the town.

“I do not remember it being like this before I left,” Miranda said.

“Hush, you stupid girl. Do not draw any more attention to us,” Ramona said quietly.

A small girl covered in dirt and clothed in rags approached Erik holding her hand up for an offering. The Cavalier reached toward the purse on his belt but before he could pull out any coin a man limped into the street and pulled the girl back. He hid the girl behind him as best he could while he backed away. “I am sorry, m’lord. She don’t need nothing. Sorry to have been a bother.”