From The Ashes

by Alexander, Ian; Graham, Joshua

  How diverse a band.

  Yet one thing bound them in common. They were orphans, all of them. And all of them slaves.

  Searing pain like a branding iron scathed Render's back when he stretched his arms to yawn. Wounds from yesterday's lashing reopened. He winced and groaned but dared not reach back to touch it. "You'd better go on without me," he said. "If Bobbington catches me..."

  "On then," Kaine said, raising up fistful of tree branches fashioned into spears. "I heard dinner grunting by the stream."

  Render's eyes opened wider, though it brought no clearer vision in the gloom. "You don't mean—?"

  "A boar," whispered Stewan, excitedly.

  "Wild, fat boar." Kaine handed Render one of his spears.

  "Do let's go," Folen said, pulling Render's sleeve. He held up a glinting dagger which he'd undoubtedly stolen from a traveler who'd taken pity on him, and stopped to give him a piece of bread.

  "Yes, do let's," Stewan echoed.

  "I don't know."

  Kaine leaned down and whispered, "Big. Fat. Juicy boar."

  Charging into the wood, Render joined in and let out a mighty cry of ancient hunters. The thought of fresh meat teased the tips of his tongue.

  Less than half an hour later, and arguably twice as hungry and frustrated than before, they returned. The entire village now lay quiet as a graveyard. The boar had proven a most crafty beast indeed, and escaped. Grunting merrily into the bush, it seemed to mock them.

  Bested by a pig.

  The shame.

  Thankfully, darkness blanketed the night. Not a soul stirred. But this did nothing to prevent Render's stomach from making a formidable growl. At that very moment, amidst Folen and Stewan's giggles, the black cat climbed up onto a barrel just outside the door and mewed.

  "Hello," Render said and walked over, with confidence.

  "Wait," Kaine whispered. "Don't frighten it. We can cook it."

  "Not to worry. I've got a way with cats. They trust me." Render took pity on it, however. It was but a bag of fur and bones. From deep within his pocket he pulled out a scrap of salted fish, stolen from his master's cupboard, and put it under her nose.

  Mroooow! The cat hissed and scratched his hand.

  "Ow! You horrid little beast!" A pale beam of moonlight revealed three dark lines growing deeper and wider on Render's hand. Straight across the oddly shaped birth mark which to him always looked like an ancient symbol. Like those found in the archeology books he'd liberated from Bobbington's shelves.

  Render sucked the salty blood from the wound and glared at the vicious creature. It sat quite satisfied with itself on its hindquarters. Glowering down at the dried fish scrap, the cat knocked it off the barrel and into the dirt with its paw.

  Render huffed. "There's gratitude for you."

  Laughing and slapping his thighs, Kaine said, "You've got quite a way with cats, indeed." He raised his spear.

  "You're not serious," Render said.

  "Quite." He crouched low, pointed the spear at the cat. It arched its back, flattened its ears, and with a hiss, bore tiny white fangs.

  "Come on, she's hardly worth the effort." Render grabbed Kaine's arm. Folen and Stewan had raised their spear and dagger as well.

  Kaine huffed. "It nearly tore your hand off, and you mean to defend it? Stand aside, we're going to have dinner if I have anything to do with it."

  "No!" Render's shout echoed through the hills rousing the barks of several dogs. A chill ran through his blood when he heard Bobbington snort and awaken inside the cottage.

  "Render! REN - DER!" he roared. "By the scrolls of Malkor, where are you!"

  "Now you've done it," Kaine said and gathered the two younger boys. "Better run with us."

  "And when I return?" Sweat seeped through the opening in his scabs and burned. "You know what he'll do to me."

  "Suit yourself." And with that Kaine flew off with the boys.

  The door blasted open.

  The cat leapt off the barrel and into Render's arms.

  The sight of Bobbington, his lardy, hairy belly hanging over his pants, and the whip in his fist made Render's hands tremble. Had he the stature or strength, he might well stand up to the brute.

  Render had neither. Nor did he possess the fortitude to escape for orphaned as a babe and sold as a slave, this was the only home he knew.

  "Wretched vermin!" Bobbington said, his foul breath steaming up into the night. "You dare run? In the middle of the night? Have you so soon forgotten the last time you tried?"

  The wounds on his back permitted no such relief. "Sir, I—"

  "And what is that, eh?"

  Render glanced down at the warm, furry creature of destruction, sitting in his arms and purring. "It... it's a cat."

  "I can see that, you fool! Bring it here so that I can gut it and sell its innards to the fiddle maker."

  Render turned the cat away from him, as if she might be offended by Bobbington's words. "What a ghastly thought!"

  "It's just a mangy cat. Bring it here, boy!"

  "No!"

  That was the moment that changed everything. Bobbington's lips shook, his right eye twitched. With great malice, he uncoiled the whip. Render had been lashed many times before, but now he feared for the cat.

  "Go," he said, and placed it on the ground. "Run!"

  Bobbington blinked, his mouth gaping in surprise. "Why you...you insolent little—! Stand still and receive your due!"

  The cat ran a few steps towards the wood, then stopped and turned around. With its back arched it watched.

  "Five lashes now," Bobbington said, "then ten more after I drag you back inside!"

  Teeth clenched, eyes unblinking, Render stood there, gazing into Bobbington's inebriated countenance.

  He was prepared.

  Bobbington lifted the handle of his whip, wound back his arm as far as he could without falling.

  Render mustered all his courage.

  His shoulders crept up. His neck tensed.

  And then...

  He ran.

  "What—?" Bobbington sputtered and lashed out. But Render was out of reach. Bobbington, surprised as Render, fell forward landing face first into the dirt.

  The cat flew into the thicket.

  Render followed, arms and face clawed by dry branches. The frigid air seared his lungs as he ran.

  Bobbington gave a great shout. "Come back here, boy!" His heavy footfalls grew nearer. "I'll flay you and that flea-ridden cat!" In his condition however, it was doubtful he could ever catch him. Nevertheless, Render ran faster still.

  Letting out a growl befitting a creature many times its size, the cat raced over to the only possible hiding place.

  "Not there!"

  For lack of a better plan, Render followed. Straight into the black cave, which neither he, nor Kaine, nor anyone with half a brain dared set foot.

  In he charged, following the lunatic cat.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Pallid moonlight entered from between the vines which dangled over the cave's mouth like the fingers of a hag. Sliding his hand along the rough, damp wall, Render continued to step deeper inside. The air hung thick and old. It reeked of moss and other decaying things which he hoped not to discover.

  "Boy!" Bobbington's voice boomed into the cave. Again he called, but this time a bit quieter. "Render?"

  Just then, something rather large and heavy brushed past Render's hand. He gasped and braced himself against the cave wall as the firm, sinewy form, covered with bristly fur pressed up against him.

  He saw nothing, but felt the creature's warmth and heavy footfalls thumping ahead. Then, the rumble of a deep growl filled the entire cave, like that of a great lion or bear. A cold tingle danced up Render's back.

  "If...if you think this is amusing...." Bobbington's voice broke. "You'd best quit this foolery right now and come out."

  He dared not move.

  The growl started again.

  "What in all that is—? Render come out a
t once!"

  Render's heart pounded so loud in his ears he feared it would betray him. Just when he could stand it no longer, the growl sprang up into a terrible roar.

  Bobbington let out a girlish scream.

  A mad rush of leaves and branches.

  His quickly fading cries.

  Bobbington fled. Faster than one could have imagined, considering his weight and condition.

  With his ear turned to the cave's entrance, Render listened to the roar once again echoing into the wood. Whatever beast had frightened Bobbington away would surely return for Render.

  And the cat.

  Where was that foolish little animal, anyway?

  Better the monster eat her than me, he thought. But then, from the front of the cave came a tiny sound. Something that struck him as both odd and alarming.

  "Meow?"

  If he didn't already suspect delirium, Render would have remained completely still, within the cave until dawn. But how was it that the cat stood there, near that dreadful monster? And alive?

  Unless...

  Render approached the cave opening, standing as tall as he could for he had heard that if one were to confront a bear or a mountain lion, one must stand as erect as possible and shout loudly.

  Steady now.

  Ready to shout....

  He waited a moment, then leapt out into the open.

  "HYAH!"

  But there was no monster. Had it hidden behind a rock? A tree? Waiting to pounce and shred him to ribbons? To the left, he directed his eyes. Then to the right. Above and behind. Nothing.

  No monster.

  And then...

  "Meow?" Warm, and furry, the cat rubbed against his bare ankle, just above his shoe. Render jumped back and gasped. "Oh, it's you."

  "Mrow." The little rascal. With a tilt of its head, it gazed up at Render as if he had gone completely insane. But then it continued to circle his legs, leaning in and rubbing warmly against them. Had it no fear, no sense?

  He scooped the cat up into his arms and stared down the hill. Below, oil lamps mounted on cottage walls flickered. The hinges on his master's door—his former master—squeaked. Bobbington had a habit of complaining such that his neighbors could hear of his woes and perhaps commiserate. Instead, they took to avoiding him.

  He could be heard now, muttering on about how Render had become more trouble than he was worth. Bobbington rushed in and shut his door with a heavy slam that reverberated throughout the village.

  "Well then," Render said, rubbing the cat behind its ears, "We'll not be going back, I suppose." It purred as he slipped it inside his leather vest, sharing some much appreciated warmth.

  From the top of Smyth's Hill, Render's shadow stretched down to the bottom and made him look enormous. He gave the farming village, the place he'd called home for as long as he could remember, one last look, then turned to face the moon. Amber light, brighter than he'd ever seen before, almost made him shade his eyes. Within his vest, the cat moved. It too stared at the strangely bright, strangely hued moon. To Render's surprise, it turned its eyes to his, as if to speak.

  "I've never seen anything like it before, either," Render said, and scratched gently under the cat's chin. Its throat trilled as it leaned its head down in the crook of his thumb and forefinger. From where he stood, Talen Wood ended behind him. Before him however, an open plain stretched for about a mile and dropped off.

  A howling wind chilled Render to the bone and nearly threw him off balance. He held cat tighter and reestablished his footing. "You all right?"

  Its claws dug into his forearm.

  And as quickly as the gust came, it passed, swaying tree branches below. Like ripples in a lake, the tops of the trees shivered.

  He'd never wandered this far from the village before. But up ahead, he knew of a rocky precipice—the largest of several—which dropped so far, no one had ever returned to say just how high it stood over the plain. Further East, miles past the white desert valley, a battalion of mountains lined the wasteland like sentries. The Handara Mountain Range. The tallest summit, towered far above the others like a commander inspecting warriors under his command. Render's pulse quickened at the sight, for he had never gotten such a clear view before.

  What lay on the other side?

  Lacking proper education afforded only to the genteel people of Valdshire Tor's grand citadel, all he'd heard were tales, legends and rumors.

  An escaped slave now, Render imagined life as an exile, crossing to the East. As far from Valdshire Tor as he could get. After all, to return meant certain capture—or re-capture, rather. He'd heard rumors of young slaves being turned over to the traders because they either displayed defect or were not particularly useful. And as he'd now proven himself a useless slave, Bobbington would probably have him hunted down, hauled off, and killed. Like the runt of a litter.

  "Sort of like you, eh, cat?"

  It buried its head deeper into his vest. At least he would not travel alone. He was glad of the company. But how would he traverse such a distance and so treacherous a terrain?

  As if the ground had heard his question, a rumbling underfoot drew his attention to the wood. The cat stiffened as the whinnying of horses and the thunder of their hooves approached.

  Render tried to run. But with nowhere to go but down, he froze in place. Three riders wearing red tunics over chainmail shirts and hoods approached from all sides.

  With all his might, Render dashed into the fast closing space between two of the horsemen. The sickening sound of scraping steel filled the air as the dark riders unsheathed their swords.

  Glints of reflected moonlight flashed.

  Render was stopped in his tracks by the cold, sharp edge of a sword under his chin.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Halt, if you fancy the head upon your neck," said the mounted rider. "Or continue and leave it behind as a token." From her tone and the shining decorations on her armor, Render gathered she was the leader.

  She scoffed. "What's your name, boy?"

  Not a word escaped Render's clenched throat.

  "Seems to've misplaced his tongue," the rider to her right said.

  "Speak boy," said the leader, leaning down so that the ends of her dark hair touched Render's face. "Or I'll find that tongue of yours with my dagger."

  "Please, ma'am. My name is Render." The cat squirmed. He held it tight and out of view.

  "Where're your parents?"

  "Dead, Ma'am."

  She let out a hearty laugh and the others joined. "Perfect." Pointing her sword down to the foot of the hill, she said to the rider behind Render, "Bring him back with the others. That ought to be the last of them."

  "Yes my lady," he said in a gravelly voice. Between Render's shoulders, the point of the soldier's sword urged him downwards.

  "If he resists, cut off his ears," the leader said, all humor gone from her tone. "If he tries to strike you, cut off his hands. If he tries to run cut off his feet. And if he tries to call for help..."

  "I understand."

  "As best you should," the leader said. "The wagon is nigh full by now. You know where to bring them."

  "Aye."

  "Hyah!" With slaps on their horses' rumps and a clinking of spurs, the dark rider and her remaining subordinates rode off.

  Down the hill, Render now saw a horse drawn wagon, covered with a heavy canopy. Its driver sat at the reins, waiting.

  When he stepped in, or rather, was shoved in, Render's captor forced him to sit upon a bench. "I won't hesitate to dice you into vittles if ye try anything," the horseman said. He then shackled Render's feet which were chained to those of some other unfortunate souls, whose faces were obscured in the pitch black wagon.

  Like his fellow prisoners, Render dared not speak.

  The door slammed shut. A thin beam of light stole in from the small square windows around the top of the door and walls. Immediately, the wagon lurched forward. Every bump in the path jarred him.

  From the stu
ttering breaths, drawn through clenched teeth, Render could tell that there were children around him in that cramped space.

  "I want to go back," came a pitiful murmur.

  "Me too."

  "Quiet!" hissed a familiar voice.

  Render blinked in surprise. He sat up straight and inclined forward and whispered, "Kaine?"

  "Keep to yourself, whoever you are, or I swear, I'll knock you down, kick open the door and toss you out. Then you'll be dragged to death, or they'll think you're trying to escape and...and—"

  "Kaine you idiot, it's me, Render!"

  All went quiet. Save for the rolling of the wheels, the blowing and snorting of the horses and the humming of the driver.

  "Render?"

  "It is you then, isn't it?" Render's heart leapt.

  "Over to the light where I can see you," Kaine said.

  "You first."

  "Bother! Isn't it just like you to quarrel so?" Kaine exhaled sharply. "All the same, let's go to the edge so that we can see each other in the light."

  "Right."

  There at the end of the wagon, their eyes met and lit up.

  "Why, it is you."

  "Of course it is," Render said and grabbed his arm. He could not help but smile. "We're going to be killed!"

  "Yes! Isn't it fantastic?"

  If there was any joy at being taken prisoner by dark knights and horsemen, or whatever they were, it was in finding his brother and the twins. Not that Render wished ill upon them. It was just better not to face this alone. He asked the twins if they were all right. They were, but felt frightened. Though he had no basis for saying so, Render assured them that all would be fine.

  Kaine stared down at Render's vest. "And what have we here?" At the opening of his vest, the cat rested with one paw casually draped over the other. It glared at Kaine with flattened ears. "How in the world did that happen?" He asked.

  Render lifted it out and placed it on his lap, soothing it with strokes along its stiff back and tail. "As I said, I have a way with cats." Still staring at Kaine, her claws gripped Render's pant legs. "Anyway...I think she likes you."

  "She?" Kaine scoffed. "That beast is too fierce to be a she."