Ascendant

by Craig Alanson

  It was time to get out of the hole, while he still could. Moving with stiff muscles, he carefully reached above, and scooped one handful of dirt at a time to rain down on his head and shoulders. When he couldn't see anymore, he plunged down into the water, washing away the dirt. The sun had set before Koren was able to squeeze himself up out of the hole to look around. All appeared quiet, he couldn't see any enemy soldiers. A pair of deer grazed in the field, near the treeline; Koren knew it was unlikely deer would expose themselves if people were around, especially people on horses. The enemy must have left the area. His sword was tossed out first, then he wriggled to break free of the roots and rocks. With legs too stiff and cold to walk, he had to crawl to the stream, where he disciplined himself to scrub his face and hands clean with sand, before moving upstream to drink the clear water. Sipping, rather than gulping as he wanted to, he drank his fill slowly. When he was almost able to stand, he stumbled painfully downstream to a pool, where he scrubbed the muck off the rest of himself, and his clothes, as best he could.

  Sitting by the stream in the silvery moonlight, trying to stretch his leg muscles so he could walk upright, he realized with a start that very day was his fourteenth birthday. It was not his best birthday. Perhaps it was the worst. His thirteenth birthday had been interrupted by the people of Crebb's Ford announcing that he, Koren, had been banished from Crickdon county. That had been a bad birthday, certainly. But this was his first birthday without his parents, without his mother baking a special treat for him, without his father helping with Koren's morning chores, so they could go fishing most of the day. Fishing, sitting by a stream like this one, talking, or sitting together in comfortable silence. Bring home fresh fish, which Koren and his father cleaned and cooked, served with butter and toasted bread crumbs, carrots and potatoes. Koren's mouth watered just thinking of such good food. or, right then, any food, he was so hungry. Still, he was alive, and being alive meant a chance for a better day ahead.

  On achingly stiff legs, he walked slowly back to the road, where he looked both ways in the fading light. He was alone. Ready to duck out of the road if he heard anyone coming, he trudged north, hopefully following Thunderbolt and the wizard.

  After walking north along the road through the night and half the next morning, he heard the sound of hooves, and ducked behind a tree, his short sword ready. To his surprise and delight, it was Thunderbolt, trotting along, looking lost, and as tired as Koren was! The horse had no saddle, and his coat appeared to have been brushed, so Koren assumed the smart beast had carried the wizard to a village, or farm, somewhere people tended to lost horses and injured wizards. After a joyous greeting, Koren had ridden the horse for only a quarter of an hour, when the horse's wobbly legs told Koren it was time to stop. Finding a field with grass for Thunderbolt to graze, and fresh water to drink, the two settled down to catch much-needed sleep, and had awakened later than Koren intended. The sun was low in the western sky, it was almost night time. With the two refreshed, watered, and at least Thunderbolt's belly full, they returned to the road and proceeded north at a steady trot, until they found the way blocked by a royal army patrol. The patrol was commanded by a sergeant, a man sent hurriedly south to block the road after the royal army was alerted by riders sent north from Captain Raddick, and the sergeant was following the vague orders he'd been given, without any imagination. Block the road, keep lookout for enemy forces, keep any civilians out of harm's way. Koren was a civilian, so Koren had been kept with seven farm families, who had been hastily gathered up from their homes, and ordered to stay with the supposed safety of the royal army. Keeping civilians safe, with enemy troops possibly roaming around the countryside, was easier with the civilians in one place, rather than wandering around by themselves and getting into trouble. And so, Koren had been forced to stay with the sergeant’s two dozen troops, most of whom were untrained reserves called up from the local militia in the emergency. Three days had gone by, with Koren fuming at the delay, before a regular royal army unit arrived in the late afternoon, three hundred soldiers galloping down the road, spears in the air and banners flying.

  As soon he was able, he sought out the Captain of the army unit, a red-haired woman he didn’t know called Glennis MacKurt. “Captain, ma’am, I’m Lord Paedris Don Salva’s servant, we got separated at the battle of Longshire.”

  “Huh, who?” MacKurt was irritated to be interrupted, she had too much to worry about already. “Who are you?”

  “Lord Salva, ma’am, the court wizard? I’m his servant, Koren Bladewell. I sent him away on my horse three night ago, he was badly injured. I need to find him!”

  MacKurt frowned. If this boy truly was the master wizard’s servant, MacKurt needed to pay attention. She didn’t need people at the royal court hearing bad things about Captain MacKurt. “Sent him away?”

  “Yes, ma'am, he killed three enemy wizards, but the enemy still surrounded us, and he was injured, so I sent him away on my horse,” Koren pointed toward Thunderbolt. “My horse came back the next morning, but I don’t know where Lord Salva is! I’ve been stuck here wasting time for three days!"

  MacKurt thought for a minute. “The wizard is gravely ill, he is on his way to the royal palace hospital, we passed his wagon as we rode south yesterday. I didn’t hear anything about his servant, though. Can you prove you are his servant?”

  “Begging your pardon, Captain,” one of MacKurt's lieutenants spoke, “if that devil horse is the boy’s, then he must be the wizard’s servant. I’ve never met the boy, but I remember that horse from when I stabled General Magrane’s horse last year. The stable hands hated that horse, and I hear the wizard’s servant is the only one who can ride him.”

  MacKurt considered the horse, then Koren. “That could be true, could be. I’ve also heard the wizard has given his servant magical fighting skills. If you are his servant, surely you could best one of my soldiers with a sword?

  Koren gritted his teeth and fumed with anger. Paedris was gravely ill, and she wanted him to waste time performing tricks? “If Lord Salva is sick, I need to go to him now! I know where he keeps his potions and things, in his tower.”

  MacKurt’s eyes narrowed. “And yet you refuse to prove who you are?”

  Koren had enough of delaying. “Behind me is an oak tree, with a target the sergeant’s men have been using for archery practice?” He knew the tree was a good twenty yards behind him. Without warning, he pulled out his short sword, which caused alarm among MacKurt’s men, but Koren threw the sword backwards over his shoulder, without looking. There was a gasp from the soldiers as the sword embedded itself in the center of the target.

  MacKurt’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but there was a twinkle in her eyes, and she made a short bow from the saddle. “Very well done, master servant. I envy you your skills. You may be on your way, with an escort. Lieutenant Meers, we need to send back a courier anyway, to report our progress. Select a courier to ride north with Lord Salva’s servant. And, Koren, your name is? Give the wizard my best wishes for a speedy recovery.” MacKurt’s smile faded. “We need his great power in this war, and sooner than later, I fear.”

  Any thoughts Koren had of racing north on a well-rested Thunderbolt were dashed when the courier set off at a fast pace, then settled into an easy trot. The courier was named Lenner Smith, and at barely seventeen, he wasn't all that much older than Koren. Perhaps self-conscious of his youth in the royal army, Lenner had worked hard to grow a respectable beard.

  "Mister Smith, I thought couriers rode fast?"

  “Call me Lenner, Koren, we'll be riding together for a while. It's a long way to the royal palace, can’t be wearing out the horses. We’ll change horses tomorrow evening, at Hereford.”

  Koren shook his head. “I won’t leave Thunderbolt, and he doesn’t need to be spared a fast run. Can’t we go faster?”

  The courier shook his head. “You won’t get far on this road without me, the army has checkpoints every few leagues, now. I have a pass,” Lenner patted
his vest, where he carried a scroll written by Captain MacKurt, “but you’ll be held there, without me." Lenner also wore a vest with the royal army crest on it, and his horse's saddle was army-issue. Koren wasn't wearing any sort of uniform. "The whole countryside is up in arms, after we heard about the battle. You were there?" Lenner asked excitedly. "What happened? I was in Dunladdon when we got the call to move south, haven’t heard much more than that we got raided?”

  Koren sighed, and scratched his head in frustration at the slow pace. If he was going to be stuck with the courier for days, he might as well tell the tale. “It wasn’t just a raid, Lenner, we were ambushed by three wizards and-"

  "Are you sure Lord Salva said it was his summer retreat? The land that used to be one of the king's hunting grounds?" Lenner asked, a couple days later. Having exhausted the battle of Longshire as a subject for conversation while they rode, Koren and Lenner had been talking about farming that morning. Lenner had grown up in Linden city outside the royal palace, where his father was a scribe in the royal archives. Other than growing some vegetables and herbs in the yard behind their home, Lenner and his family knew nothing about farming. They were riding by a farm Koren admired, with nicely rolling fields of corn and a well-kept barn, when Koren excitedly mentioned Paedris' promise to give him land to farm, on his sixteenth birthday. Lenner had tilted his head skeptically, and asked the question.

  "Yes," Koren answered, "Paedris, I mean Lord Salva said a couple there farms it for him. I wonder what type-"

  "Wait, Koren. Hmmm."

  "What?" Koren asked.

  "Uh, I don't, uh, hmmm." Lenner struggled to find words. "Uh, if it's the same land, and I don't know of any other, the wizard can't give it to you. He doesn't own it."

  "What? Are you sure?"

  Lenner nodded seriously. "Uh huh. I helped my father in the royal archives, before I joined the army. I remember my father saying, I guess this was the year before last, him saying the old king made a bad deal when he let the wizard use that land, because Lord Salva was making so much money from the farm there. The reason my father wasn't happy is that, because the farm is on land owned by the royal family, Lord Salva doesn't have to pay taxes on his income from that farm. The wizard doesn't pay any taxes at all, so he must not own property anywhere in Tarador."

  Koren fell silent, unable to speak.

  "Sorry." Lenner said, after a few minutes. Koren's sunny morning had been crushed by the news from Lenner. "Maybe, uh, maybe he meant land in, where's he from, Stade, some place like that?"

  Koren nodded gloomily. "Sure, sure, that must be it." He said, without believing his own words. Why would Paedris have lied to him? Although, Koren was sure the wizard had lied to him before, at least several times. Paedris was a powerful wizard, Koren only a poor servant boy without a family. Why bother-

  "Sometimes, my parents would tell me whatever I wanted to hear, just so they could shut me up for a while." Lenner said, but Koren wasn't listening.

  Koren's wonderful, brief dream, of owning a farm, was crushed. It had all been a lie, only a lie. And an obvious lie, one that Koren could have discovered by asking almost anyone around the palace. Did Paedris care so little about Koren, that he couldn't even bother to come up with a decent lie? Koren nudged Thunderbolt into an easy gallop. "Come on, if we hurry, we can be at the palace before nightfall." Be at the palace, and confront the wizard about his lies. Being in battle had changed Koren, changed him in ways he wasn't even aware of. Having faced death, he was no longer willing to be the servant boy that people tried to kick around. He had saved the crown princess, not once but three times. He had found the Cornerstone, found it after centuries of the best minds in Tarador searching in vain. He had rescued the wizard, all by himself. What had he gotten from it? A cramped cubbyhole in a dark, drafty tower, a job working for a wizard who lied to him, and denied him credit for his accomplishments.

  Lenner spurred his horse onward, catching up to Thunderbolt. Koren wasn't speaking, but the young soldier could see from the expression on the servant's face that he was angry, very angry. Lenner had left the palace before Koren arrived, so he didn't know the boy. From Koren's tale of the battle of Longshire, the wizard's servant was either a good story teller, or extraordinarily brave. If Koren had lied about saving the wizard, why would he now be riding to help his master? And if Koren truly was as brave as he said, and as angry as he looked, well, Lenner wouldn't want to get in his way.

  Ariana left her personal guard at the entrance to the hospital, and went straight for the court wizard's bedside. Lord Salva, usually with fire, or a twinkle, in his eyes even at his most weary, now looked sunken into the bed. His skin was gray, ashen, thin, like old paper. A vein in his neck showed his pulse was rapid and erratic. Ariana gestured for the Chief Physician to attend her. "What ills Lord Salva?"

  The man snatched off his official white cap in respect for the crown princess, "For the most part, exhaustion, Your Highness, deep, draining and unnatural exhaustion, though simple exhaustion none the less. In an ordinary man, who experienced ordinary combat, I would prescribe rest, and nutritious, plain, simple foods such as broth, and bread, and fruit to regain his strength. For a wizard, of his unnatural age," Ariana thought she saw the man make a superstitious sign behind his back, "who was attacked by forces beyond this world," he shuddered slightly, "the best course of treatment is beyond my skills. It may take a wizard, to heal this wizard."

  Ariana bent close to examine the court wizard. He smelled faintly of brimstone, though he had been bathed carefully and was dressed in clean robes. Whatever had happened to the court wizard, it had been bad enough to test even his powers to the limit. "Has he been awake at all?"

  "Lord Salva has been talking in his sleep, it was difficult to understand at first. He mentioned your name, Highness, and his servant, you may have met the boy, Koren, I think is his name? And he spoke of several other wizards. Mostly, he kept repeating one word, over and over; he said 'ascendant'. He has been most agitated when saying that word. Does it mean anything to you?"

  "No, it doesn't." She frowned. "Ascendant," she pronounced the word slowly. "It must be important. You sent for a wizard?"

  "Yes, Lord Feany should have received word by now. He is a skilled healer."

  Ariana straightened Paedris' robe, and brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. "When Shomas gets here, ask him what 'ascendant' means. Unless Lord Salva awakens first, then ask him. And when Lord Salva awakens, send for me, please."

  As she left the hospital, Ariana saw that her personal guards were speaking with some of the palace guards, they were all looking grim, shaking their heads. "Princess," her guard captain bowed slightly, "how fares the wizard?"

  "Weak, and he needs to rest. Lord Feany is on is way, he will surely heal Lord Salva. Our wizard will be back on his feet in no time," she said with a smile. The smile didn't work, all the men looked grim, staring at the stone floor, shuffling their feet, muttering under their breath. "What is the matter, captain."

  "Well, it's like this, Your Highness, I spoke with a soldier this afternoon, he'd come in from the west, General Magrane sent him back with dispatches. He said all the soldiers are worried, by how bold the enemy has been, attacking Lord Salva on our own territory. It," he glanced at the floor, embarrassed, "it shows the enemy's strength, Your Highness." And, he did not say, Tarador's weakness.

  "Does it?" Ariana asked. "Strength, or fear?" She thought back to something her military tutor Captain Raddick has told her. "The enemy took a great risk, sending three powerful wizards to attack Lord Salva, a terrible risk. Perhaps the enemy took such a risk because they fear our court wizard's growing power. There are few wizards in the world, and few of them can handle power, I'm told. The enemy sent three of their precious wizards into our territory, to kill Lord Salva. And they failed. I think that tell us of the enemy's desperation, not strength. But, I am after all only a girl, and I do not know of military matters as you men do."

  She had shamed the men
, shamed them, and opened their eyes. Her guard captain nodded. "Her Highness speaks the truth. The enemy fears us. My apologies, Your Highness, I should not have let fear enter my heart."

  Ariana thought of another thing Raddick had said. "There is nothing wrong with fear, Captain, unless it leads to despair. I think it best that we leave fear and despair to our enemy?" She said with a smile.

  The captain bowed. "Yes, Your Highness." This young girl was going to be a formidable queen someday. If she lived that long. And if her mother didn't stand by while the enemy conquered the realm while Ariana awaited her crown.

  Lenner and Koren did hurry, to the point where Lenner's horse was wobbly on its legs and even Thunderbolt was laboring to gallop, but it was still after nightfall when they arrived at the castle gate. The roads toward Linden had been choked with wagons, with people from the border counties looking for safety in case of further invasion by Acedor, and by wagons loaded with grain, in case Acedor raided or burned the storehouses near the border. News of the battle in Longshire had everyone spooked, particularly news that the raiders included three wizards, who had been bold enough to challenge Lord Salva. The court wizard's near-mythical powers, in the minds of the citizens of Tarador, were such that for an enemy to feel confident enough to attack their wizard, the situation for Tarador must be dire indeed.