Ascent of the Unwanted (The Chronicle of Unfortunate Heroes Book 1) (6 page)

Outside the city the two warriors set their horses to a quick ground-eating trot. They rode in a moody silence down the road cutting through the hilly woods surrounding the city. By the time they stopped for the evening Armeston was a good ten leagues behind them. The silence had given Erik a chance to ponder the events that transpired earlier. Erik saw their morning engagement in a new light. Lawt had taken a beating not because he lacked a survival instinct, but because he had one. If Lawt had turned his strength against any of the young men and had hurt any of them the town would have killed him because he was different. A new respect for his companion filled Erik but the title of
gorak
bothered him. Erik had thought the jeweler’s statement was just
an insult but Istan calling him a gorak was something different.

The supper they had was a filling, but bland porridge. Putting bits of dried meat in flour tack was a pathetic attempt for flavor. Erik did not care. He was ravenous. After everyone had eaten their fill Erik broke the silence. “What is a gorak, and why does everyone seem to hate them? I always thought they were a bedtime story used to frighten children into minding their parents but Lawt doesn’t seem horrible at all.”

“He’s not,” Gavin said. “Are you?” He asked Lawt as if he was not sure and wanted reassurance. Lawt looked at him stunned, not knowing what to say. A small smile began to creep into Gavin’s face. Lawt stared at him a brief moment, then understanding the joke himself, guffawed in approval.

“The gorak are somewhat like us but more primitive, Erik,” Istan put in. “Similar in many ways but with many differences. When the great kingdoms were forming the more civil people pushed the gorak out of the borders. Every once in a while a warrior fringe or tribe tries to push back and establish their own territory. Judging from the look of him, our friend Lawt here is a half-breed, probably an outcome of such skirmishes. It is not unknown for a gorak warrior to rape a village woman while they burn the houses or steal livestock. They are very strong, very savage, and a fierce enemy, but they are smaller in number and less advanced in warfare so they can be controlled. In some parts of the world goraks are used as slaves and valued property because they are much stronger than we are. Now that we are talking though, I would like to ask you a question, if that is okay?” Istan said, waiting for Erik’s approval, which was quickly given.
“What do you have planned for the rest of your life?”

Rage flooded into him. The grief was still raw and it fueled the hatred in his words. “You were there the night my mother was killed! I am going to find that man. I am going to find him and make him pay!”

“Hmmm…interesting. You know, when you find him you will need more than a piece of wood with some nails in it for such a grand scheme,” Gavin said, smiling.

“That’s true, Erik,” Istan added. “We did try to find him for you but he evaded us. Anyone that can do that is a little out of your league I am afraid.”

“I don’t care. You know the stories. With justice on my side I can’t fail,” Erik screamed.

“Erik, all the righteousness in the world will not help if you face this man,” Istan said. “Most of the stories you hear are exaggerations of the facts, if there is any fact in them at all. The ones that are mostly fact are about trained men who meet their doom against fierce, despicable foes. Your enemy is the most despicable I know, and you are but a boy with sorrow and grief. But
I can show you the way and get you the training you need.”

“You can?” Erik asked calming himself. He sensed an opportunity.

“Take your knife, for example. It is a pretty thing but I am happy you decided not to use it in your earlier confrontations. It could have turned out worse. Do you know how to use it if you have to?”

“No, but isn’t it fairly easy? It’s small and all the cutpurses use them.” Erik said, not remembering his hesitation in using it before. He took his knife out of its sheath and flashed it in the air like a miniature sword.

“It’s not easy. You see, you wield it like a long blade. Swords have length to keep your opponents away from you. The knife is different. Your opponent is close to you. A good fighter will have you disarmed with his first feint.” Istan stood and swept the knife out of Erik’s hand.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready!” Erik yelled.

“The outcome would be no different.” Istan handed the knife to Erik.

Erik thought about a rematch but, remembering the cavalier’s moves in the alley fight and the stories about the King’s Cavaliers, he figured the small Cavalier would be correct about the outcome.

“Then how would you use it?” Erik asked.

“I would not use that one for starters. It has two edges and I’m not in the habit of wearing bracers or gauntlets, but hold the knife point down.”

Erik did as he was told, but he did not understand why having two edges on his blade made any difference.

“Now use the motion of your arms for quick arching swings and jabs.”

Using a knife this way could be easier.

“But with the knife facing this way, isn’t it easier for me to be forced to stab myself?” Erik puzzled.

“It’s actually harder.” Gavin put in. “Something about body mechanics, which is way above my head. Besides, an opponent who wants to do that must first grab your forearm. With the knife placed like that, it is a quick step from attacking, to holding the blade against your arm for defense or blocking. It also explains why one does not bring a double edged knife to a fight.”

Erik could see why now. With the knife held against his arm any force against the blade would cause its opposite blade to cut into his own skin, probably disarming himself.

“Anything else?” Erik was hungry for more information.

“Not right now. I do not want any instructor to be mad at me for teaching you my bad habits,” Istan said. “If you decide you want to go ahead with the training.”

“Do you really think I can do it?”

“Yes, but it is a long and arduous journey. The training alone will take years, if you survive it.”

“Survive it?” Erik was not sure he wanted the training. Years of waiting to find his mother’s killer, but he knew nothing about where to begin to look for a trail, or what to do if he found it.

“I won’t lie to you. You can be trained as a Roh’Darharim if you want, but some do die in the training. Death is still a kinder fate then what could await you if you fail in some of the tasks,” Istan said.

“Roh’Darharim?”

“In essence a Cavalier, but it is more. In the old tongues it means ‘Protector of the People.’ In truth you are a Cavalier for the king, but in actuality
you serve all kingdoms.”

“Why me?” Erik asked, giving in to the decision.

“We have been watching you since the night you cared for our horses. You paid good attention to them, more than was needed. After we lost the killer’s trail we went back to Armeston and watched. Why do you think we knew about the piece of wood you pulled off the crate or why we were there to help you when you needed it? It was far from chance we happened upon your fight. Our actions had a little pity in it, yes, but what is more important is now there is nothing to hold you back. You also have a good reason to persevere.”

“If you were there the entire time why did I get the snot kicked out of me?” Erik asked. “You could have helped a little sooner.”

“We wanted to see how you were going to handle the situation. All things considered I think you did very well. There were many times you could have run and left your friend.”

Erik had to laugh holding his sore ribs. “I can feel how well I did.”

“Can Lawt go, too?” Lawt interrupted.

“You?” Istan said shocked. “I wouldn’t…couldn’t send you for this, Lawt. You most certainly would fail.”

“Please, sir, do not leave Lawt without his friend. At least let Lawt go to aid him,” Lawt pleaded.

“Certainly not!” Istan spat. “A Roh’Darharim must accomplish his testing with his class or he isn’t worthy of the title. He can’t rely on you for aid during his testing, and if you aren’t training with him you’ll only add to his burden.”

“Then Lawt will follow and ask for Lawt to be admitted himself” Lawt was clearly getting desperate now.

“That wouldn’t be fruitful, Lawt,” Istan said with a sigh. “You must have the recommendation of a Cavalier, and you don’t have tha”

“At least… At least let Lawt ride along with you until we get there. Let Lawt spend time with his friend!” Lawt begged.

“That, I suppose, I
can
do.”

The first couple of days were boring after the excitement in Erik’s new life wore thin. The sky was clear the first few days. The forested hills leading to the western coast of the kingdom of Tredale would thin out as the party reached a hills’ apex. At these times Erik could see the beauty and glory of his homeland and be proud. This was farther than he had ever been from home. He climbed each hill to see what was hidden on the other side.

On the fourth day out it began to rain and the journey became miserable. Everything was wet. His cloak was no protection after the first few hours and he became horrible company. Lawt asked him question after question. Stupid questions about things anyone with half a brain could figure out
or had no real answer. It was after Lawt had asked, “How far can ships go into the ocean before they run out of water to sail on?” that Erik stopped paying attention to him. After every pause Erik inserted, “I don’t know,” until Lawt stopped pestering him.

Erik was busy ignoring Lawt’s questions on the fifth day out when Lawt grabbed Erik by the tunic and threw him on his back hard. They were walking a bit behind the Cavaliers and had strayed into a clearing off the side of the road. Erik was in the middle of getting up, a harsh word in his throat when Lawt held his finger to his mouth in a silencing motion. Lawt peered into the tall grass, crouching and motioning with his hand for Erik to stay still. His hand shot out and came back just as fast with the tail of a large brown snake in his hand. Before the snake could react, Lawt whipped the snake hard onto the ground. With a crack the creature’s skull broke.

“Is it poisonous?” Erik asked.

“Yes,” Lawt said. He smiled. “But we eat good tonight.”

Erik became lost in thought as
they made camp for the night. Lawt was not as stupid as Erik had originally thought. After the incident with the snake Erik studied him. Lawt knew so many things about the wild that most had become instinctive. Lawt would never pass a particular flower with purple thorns without picking a bloom. “For upset stomachs.” Lawt said. Every stream or runoff they passed Lawt filled his water skin anew. Every deer run they passed Lawt would stop talking. Erik was amazed he had not noticed it before but Lawt usually took care of these things
without slowing or altering his stride. He also noticed when Lawt was not with him he was talking animatedly with Gavin or Istan. Each responded to Lawt in different ways. Lawt would point to one item or other on the road and with broad sweeping gestures come alive with excitement or inquiry. Gavin would respond with answers, a smile and laughter, while Istan parried with questions of his own.

On the sixth day out the hills became mountainous with sparser forests. Tall, thin evergreens replaced the hard-knotted oaks and elms the further up the slopes they traveled. Crossing the mountains slowed them down and days stretched into weeks. The road they had been following became a trail and that slowed them further. Erik walked beside Istan’s horse looking down at his feet. The trail they followed cut through a saddle between two hilltops on a ridge. The mist they had woken up to had thickened into a heavy sprinkle.

When they reached the cut of the saddle to cross over to the other side Erik looked into the valley below. The trail led to a gate embedded into a wall before it skirted out of sight. Istan, still on his horse, led Erik toward the gate. The ominous wooden double doors in the wall imposed its will against intruders. An arch stood off the wall suspending a bell with its pull dangling inches from the ground. Istan looked at Erik and motioned with his head toward the bell. Erik took a deep breath. After he rang the bell, his life would be on a course which would be difficult to change. The training alone would take years, distracting him from the main goal he had in his life. After the training there would be obligations and duties that would pull him even further away. Erik walked slowly toward the wooden arch.

When he stood under the open arch Erik turned around to face his companions. Lawt stood off to the side, his hands balled into fists. The mist in the air had soaked Lawt’s hair and water dripped steadily down his scalp. Erik was sure tears were mixing with the water running down the man’s face. The Cavaliers were majestic mounted on their horses. Their heavy gold cloaks drifted slightly in the breeze weighed down by moisture. His mother would be excited for this new life, the knowledge and the skills offered to him. He wished she could see this moment. This is something she surely would have wanted for Erik. The ability to avenge her death would not have been a sufficient reason to accept this offer but adding a life with more prestige and honor than his mother could have wished made this an opportunity he could not dare pass up.

Erik turned towards the bell pull and grabbed hold. The damp rope itched his hands. One pull and his life would no longer be in his control. Erik now understood his life never really was. Forces in his life constantly pulled him into decisions he would not have necessarily made. This was something he could control. He could choose to do it or just turn and leave.