Ascendant

by Craig Alanson

  “What? Of course not, what a ridiculous idea. Who told you that?” Paedris was a powerful, master wizard. Unfortunately, he was also a terribly unskilled liar; while he spoke, he tried to smile, but the smile was not in his eyes. The frozen smile on his lips didn’t convince Koren at all.

  “Oh, no one. I, uh, was just wondering.” Koren knew Paedris was lying.

  “Well, you don’t listen to such silly ideas, Koren.”

  “I won’t, sir. Can I get more wood for the fire?”

  “No, no, I’m fine. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, sure. I’m, um, going to eat. Enjoy your lunch, sir.” Koren went to his own room, where he sat on the bed, looking at his own plate of food, then pushed it away. He didn’t feel like eating.

  Bart’s words had stung him, because Koren knew they were the truth. Why hadn’t he left, on his own, without causing his parents to be exiled from the land they owned, the successful farm they had built themselves? He had been a bad son, an ungrateful son. It wasn’t his parent’s fault that their son was a jinx.

  Tears rolled down Koren’s cheeks, and he wiped them away angrily. His father had told him that moping around and feeling sorry for yourself didn’t do anyone good. If you did something bad, hurt people you care about, then do something to make up for it. Or, at least, resolve not to do it again.

  Koren stood up, went to the washbasin, and cleaned his hands and face. Then he got changed into his best clothes, scrounged up a few coins that Paedris had given him, and walked down the stairs.

  Crebbs Ford had been too small, too poor to have a church, instead a priest had come through the town twice a year, in Spring and during harvest season. The priest performed weddings, blessed people’s crops and animals, and sometimes conducted a ceremony under the big oak tree in front of the Golden Trout, if the weather was nice. Koren’s parents had only brought him into town twice to see priests, he remembered the first priest was an old man, who seemed tired, bored and anxious to get onto the next village. The second priest was a cheerful young woman, who had happily blessed the Bladewell’s best cow. Koren had liked her. Within the walls of the castle, on the side opposite the wizard’s tower, was a chapel for the royal family, although anyone could go there. Koren walked up the steps, pulled open one of the doors, and looked inside the cozy building. In the middle of the day, the chapel was empty. “Hello?” Koren called out, and stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind him. As it wasn’t cold inside the chapel, someone must have a fire going in one of the side chambers.

  Koren had never been inside a church, certainly nothing as grand as the royal chapel. The ceiling soared high above him, and the inside of the thick stone walls were painted a cheery blue. Tall windows along both sides were made of colored glass, depicting scenes of people doing good deeds; healing the sick, defending the weak, helping each other. Koren walked along one wall, gawking up at the beautiful windows, until he came to a window which showed a farm family; mother, father, son and daughter. The family looked happy, grateful for the help of their neighbors to harvest their crops. Koren reached up and traced the outline of the son with his fingertips. He remembered times like the one depicted in the window; families in Crebbs Ford always helped each other at planting and harvesting time.

  Koren backed away from the window. The son’s eyes in the painting were staring at him, following him as he moved. Staring at him, accusingly. It was creepy. He turned away from the window. “Hello? Mother Furliss?” He called out the name of the priest who called the chapel her home; Koren had met the kindly older woman once, when she had come to visit Paedris.

  “Hah?” A man’s voice answered. “What do you want?” Whoever the man was, he sounded irritated.

  “I, uh, I’m looking for Mother Furliss? And, um, and I have a donation for the church, sir?”

  “A donation, you say?” A rather unhappy-looking, almost bald man stepped out from a side chamber, still holding a chicken leg. He finished chewing, and wiped his mouth of the sleeve of his brown priest robes. “Oh.” Seeing Koren, the man’s face fell. A servant was unlikely to bring a substantial sum as a donation. Hardly worth the priest’s time. “Give it here, boy.”

  Koren was uncertain, he thought donations went into a box, but the priest held out his hand, so Koren gave him the coins. The man frowned, bit into one of the coins to test it was real, and slipped them inside his robes. “Mother Furliss isn’t here, she’s out in the city this week, caring for the sick. I’m Father Gruch.” Gruch’s home church lay on the outskirts of the city, he only was assigned to the royal chapel a couple times a year, when Mother Furliss was called elsewhere. If it had been entirely up to Mother Furliss, Gruch would stay in his home chapel, but she needed to give all the priests under her care a chance to serve in the royal chapel.

  Gruch wasn’t unpopular only with Mother Furliss, he was unpopular with his flock in his home church. And any church he'd ever been in. Faith and a desire to serve are not what had called Emil Gruch to the church as a young man; poverty and laziness had motivated him. He was the fourth son of a merchant family that had fallen on hard times; his oldest brother would inherit the struggling business, which left Emil and his two other brothers to find their own ways in the world. Two brothers joined the army, which might have inspired Emil to follow them, except he saw how hard they worked, being outside in all kinds of weather. And then there was the danger, which did not appeal to Emil at all. When his brother Thomas was hit in the shoulder by an orc arrow, and came home to recover for three months, Emil decided army life was not for him. Fortunately for Emil, and unfortunately for the followers of the faith, the priest in Emil’s home town was elderly, and increasingly unable to manage by himself. Young Emil began helping the old priest, when he wasn’t working in his parents' shop, and soon the old man had taught the young man the basic points of the scriptures, and the typical ceremonies of the faith. What he saw of priestly life did appeal to young Emil; a roof over your head, food provided not by your own sweat but by donations from the townspeople, respect from the people both common and royal. The work was not hard, either, if you didn’t want to work hard at it, except for the part about caring for the sick. Emil didn’t like that, didn’t enjoy it to this day, and avoided those duties as much as possible.

  Before the old priest died, he had, reluctantly, for he saw no great calling of faith in young Emil, written a letter of recommendation for the young man to be trained in the priesthood. Emil had seen studying at the monastery, where he had discovered to his dismay there were only two meals a day, and meager ones at that, as his ticket to an easy life. As he read all the proper scrolls, and said all the proper things, and did not cause trouble, the priests in charge of the monastery had not seen how they could deny him graduation, and ordination as a priest.

  Unfortunately for Emil, he had not been as successful as a priest as he had imagined. He had to work harder than he wanted, and the ceremonies were so dull, and the ungrateful townspeople not so generous with their donations, and it seemed like there were always sick people he had to visit. Even when he was assigned to the royal chapel, two weeks a year, donations seemed to be significantly less than what Mother Furliss had told him was customary. So, Father Gruch was in even more of a bad mood than usual, when Koren interrupted his lunch. And then Gruch looked more closely at the young man, who had given such a pitiful donation. “Oh, you’re the wizard’s brat.”

  Wizards were a particular source of irritation and jealousy for Father Gruch. Just because wizards could touch, influence and command the spirit world to affect the world of the living, ordinary people thought wizards were sooooo powerful. Lies! Priests, Gruch told any and all who would listen, guided people’s souls to their reward the spirit world, and wasn’t that more powerful, and more useful, than the silly tricks wizards played with their skills? Especially since, Gruch hinted darkly, many, many wizards used their power for evil purposes, and even the best of them used foul, dark magics that were forbidden!

 
Koren bowed fearfully. This priest didn’t seem very nice. “Yes, sir, Father Gruch, I am Lord Salva’s servant.”

  The mention of the word ‘Lord’ made Gruch almost bite his tongue. How did a wizard merit the title ‘Lord’, when a dedicated servant of God like Emil Gruch only had the humble title of ‘Father’? Gruch looked back at his lunch, which was growing cold already. “What did he send you here for, boy?”

  “Oh, begging your pardon, sir, but the wizard didn’t send me, he doesn’t know I’m here. I came, you see, for, um, for spiritual guidance?” Koren wasn’t sure those were the right words. “I want to know if a person can really be cursed, sir, Father.”

  “Hmmmm.” Now, this might be interesting enough to interrupt lunch. “Spiritual guidance? You came to the right place, boy. I am a graduate of the Suyurdan monastery, and am an expert in the scriptures and the eternal mysteries.” Gruch didn’t know which mysteries were the eternal ones, but it sounded impressive. “Come with me.” Gruch walked back into the side chamber where he had been eating lunch, and put the lunch plate on top of the stove to keep warm. He was about to wipe his hands on his robe, when he realized that was not quite the way to impress the boy, so he splashed some water on his hands, and dried them properly with a towel. Gruch draped the official scarf of his office around his shoulders, and waved Koren to sit opposite him. “What is troubling you, child? You can unburden yourself to me, you are safe in this house of the faith.”

  Koren, having never been in a chapel, was impressed, and intimidated. The priest was doing his best to appear kind and caring, but his expression was severe. “I, um, I want to know, can a person be cursed? Could a person be cursed, to be, to be a jinx, for example? To jinx other people, and cause bad things to happen, by accident?”

  Even in his little church on the outskirts of the city, Emil Gruch had heard a vague rumor about something being strange with the wizard’s new servant boy. A rumor whispered in confidence by another priest, who wasn’t supposed to say anything. “This cursed person, this jinx, is this a friend of yours? Or it is you? Come, speak, and speak the truth, you cannot hide truth from God, boy.”

  Koren’s mouth was dry. “Uh, sir, Father, it’s me, sir. You see, strange things have been happening around me, since I was little. Sometimes, bad things. Paedris, I mean, Lord Salva, says there is no such thing as jinxes-“

  “Of course there are! Why else would we have a word ‘jinx’ in our language?” Gruch interrupted. “Continue, boy.”

  “I don’t mean for bad things to happen, and I don’t do anything, bad things just seem to happen when I’m around.”

  “Um hmmm, um hmmm. And when did these bad things start? What is your earliest memory of these jinx things?” This was more interesting than Gruch had hoped, he had, for the moment, forgotten about his lunch.

  Koren thought back. “I guess, when I was five or so.” Koren listed some of the worst jinx incidents, ending with him destroying the grain mill.

  “Yes, yes. And did you do something bad at that time, the first time you realized you’re a jinx? Steal something, or disobey your parents, perhaps?”

  “Oh, no, sir. Not, not anything like that.”

  Gruch leaned forward, his face very stern “Think, and answer truthfully. God does not curse people unless they have been wicked. What did you do?”

  Koren felt tears welling up in his eyes. “I, I, I, um,” he searched his memory, “that was about the time my parents wanted to have another baby. I remember my mother said she’d like a daughter, but I told her that I wanted a brother, to play with, and to help with my chores around the farm.”

  Father Gruch shook his head slowly. “You wicked, wicked boy. How could you be so selfish, to go against your dear mother’s hopes for a daughter? And all because you were so lazy that you wanted someone else to milk the cows, and harvest the crops?”

  Koren bowed his head in shame. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Come now, you meant it at the time didn’t you?” One of the few things Father Gruch actually enjoyed about is job was reprimanding, and punishing, the wicked. And there were so many wicked, particularly among the people unfortunate enough to belong to his little church. The parts of the scriptures about God’s righteous vengeance, although only the smallest part of the spiritual teachings, were Gruch’s favorite parts to read.

  “I guess so. Yes.” Koren said in a whisper, unable to look the priest, the representative of God, in the eye. “God has cursed me?”

  “What do you think, boy?” Gruch flashed a quick grin, before the boy could see. Clearly, the boy was cursed? How else could he be a jinx, and have all those bad things happen around him? There was no other explanation!

  “What, what can I do? To lift the curse?”

  “Oh, there’s nothing you can do. God’s will is not like a debt you can pay, boy! You don’t bargain with the Almighty. You are going to be a jinx, and a curse and a danger to all around you, until, and if, God determines you have been punished enough. And that may not happen in your lifetime. What you can do is try to be good, from now on, and not give God reason to curse you more, and punish the people around you.”

  “Yes, sir, Father Gruch, sir. Sir? Could Paedris, Lord Salva, help me?”

  Mention of the wizard’s name angered Gruch. “No! You think wizards are more powerful than mere priests, because of their silly magic tricks?”

  “No, no, sir.” Koren stammered.

  “You best not, boy!" The priest's voice thundered righteously. "Look to wizards for useless potions, and silly tricks, and smoke and lights. Look to a priest when you fear for your soul, boy. Your master wizard may be able to stop your jinx from hurting someone, if he is lucky, and is there in time, and sees what is happening,” Gruch wasn’t exactly clear on how jinx curses worked, but they had to be powerful, “but he cannot help you lift your curse.” Gruch sniffed, and leapt to his feet. His lunch was burning on the stove. He raced over, scorched his fingers on the plate, shouted some very unspiritual words, and used the hem of his robe to lift the plate onto the table. The scent of the food reminded him of his hunger. His interest in the boy’s curse was satisfied. “Begone, boy, think on your sins, repent and try to follow the path of righteousness. And remember! What is said in this chapel, in this holy house of God, between a priest and the faithful, is private and not to be repeated to anyone. Especially not to a wizard!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Oh!” Ariana exclaimed as she pulled the neck of her dress up to cover her mouth and nose. “What is that smell?”

  The princess, with her guards and maids, had been crossing the palace courtyard, when there was a muffled explosion from the wizard’s tower, and a burst of green light. Explosions and lights coming from that tower were not unusual, to the dismay of the residents of the castle. What was unusual was the thin, sickly greenish mist that poured down from the windows, and the mist smelled terrible. Like, as if some very large, stinky beast had died in the tower several days ago, and someone had unwisely just opened the door. Or, that same large beast had eaten something that didn’t agree with it, and had the worst case of gas ever. Her maids began choking on the mist, and her guards, coughing and choking, grasped her arms to hustle her away to safety, when she saw the wizard and Koren stumble out the tower’s doorway into the courtyard. “Wait!” She ordered her guards. “Help them.”

  The wizard, on his knees and choking, pulled a wand from inside his robes, and gasped out words in a language Ariana didn’t understand. The mist stopped pouring from the windows, but it was too late. Tendrils of the mist had reached across the courtyard into the palace, and people were already running out into the courtyard, pinching their noses and looking around in disgust.

  The guards helped Paedris and Koren to their feet, and the party staggered across the courtyard, gagging and coughing, to climb the stairs inside the wall that ringed the castle. Higher was better, as the heavy mist tended to cling to the ground. When they reached the top of the wall and could stick their fac
es into the wind that blew from the west, everyone hung over the wall, gasping for breath, trying to keep their stomachs from rebelling. “Lord Salva,” Ariana managed to say, “what happened?” She glanced down into the courtyard, to see people frantically rushing around, trying to get away from the stench. She almost laughed when she saw Charl Fusting, the palace’s chief of protocol, attempting to keep his dignity by striding stiffly, rather than running, and holding a handkerchief over his mouth. But then the breeze swirled a thick tendril of mist across the man, his eyes bulged and he ran in panic, tripped over his own feet, and fell into a puddle.

  “I was-“ Paedris paused to catch his breath, “brewing a healing potion. Or I thought I was.” The wizard’s eyes narrowed, and he turned angrily to his servant. “Koren, are you certain that was leaves of arrowroot that you brought?”

  “Yes! And I ground it up real fine, like you said.” Koren replied fearfully. Growing up on a farm, he was used to being around unpleasant smells sometimes, but he’d never even imagined anything smelling as bad as that mist. Had the foul mist been caused by his jinx, his curse?

  “A single, narrow, silvery leaf, with serrated edges?”

  Koren shook his head. “No, that’s a spearleaf tree. Arrowroot leaves are dark green, and shaped like a triangle, with smooth edges.”

  Paedris rubbed his beard in frustration. “Ah! This is my fault, I should have considered that trees could be called different names in Crickdon than they are here.”

  “So, you mixed the wrong potion?” Ariana asked.

  “It would seem so!”

  “What potion did you mix?”

  “I don’t know, it was a mistake,” the wizard bit his lip in disgust, “but I’ll be sure never to do that again!”

  As the mist cleared, Ariana became aware of where the worst of the smell was now coming from. “Uh, Lord Salva, Koren, I think your clothes are,” she wrinkled her nose, “rather fragrant.”