Ragged Heroes

by Andy Peloquin

  I inquired, “And you think I can do this?”

  “I know you can, or I wouldn’t be asking you to do it.”

  I still wasn’t sure. “Have you seen me in those visions?”

  The little man looked down. “How do you think I was able to locate you? You weren’t trying to be found. You are one of the key pieces in this elaborate plan to defeat the demons once and for all. If you accept this duty, I believe your soul shall be cleansed.”

  Quite the proposition. My shallow quest to kill the evil Princess seemed so trivial now. I realized I had always been bent on revenge, not redemption. My hollow existence suddenly started to take form. If for nothing else, I should do this for Veralee. Sweet Veralee, how I miss thee.

  I still had doubts. “I don’t have much gold left from what I took from the castle coffers. I’m not sure I’m the best choice for raising children.”

  “No one is great at raising a child until they have one. You will be fine if you accept our offer. I’m sure you have the capabilities to obtain supplies and food for the children.”

  I still wasn’t sure I was the best candidate. “What if it never happens? What if I go out into the King’s Woods as you instruct, and there isn’t a baby out there? This sounds more like a set up than a redemption proposal.”

  He groaned, “I could have killed you with ease when I froze your motions yesterday. I could kill you right now if I wanted it to be.”

  Those words were true. My mind still didn’t want to believe that this was the illustrious Dragon-Eyes, but my eyes weren’t lying. “Do you know the spot in the King’s Woods that the babe will be in?”

  “That is where it becomes blurred. We’ve seen the King’s Guard taking the baby into the forest, but the destination is currently unknown.”

  That didn’t sound very promising. “The child could be eaten by wild foxes before I find him or her. Hells, he’ll probably be dead long before I can track him down.”

  “That is why it is a quest. You will need to use your ingenuity at certain times to find the children, and then keep them safe. We have confidence in you.”

  I wish I held the same view. “Thank you.” I realized all the killing I had done in the past two years had been a precursor for my upcoming life. If anyone tried to harm the children, I could defend them.

  “If I were to accept, what exactly would I be doing?”

  Dragon-Eyes told me, “The first mission is to find the Wamhoff babe. The next part of the plan will be several years from now. I will contact you with more information as it becomes available. Then you will raise those children until they are ready to attend the School of the Learned Warrior in Gama Traka.”

  “That’s it.”

  He smiled. “Sounds easy, yes. It will not be. If you are to be found, the children’s lives will be in grave danger. However, most will assume that these special children are dead after being cast away, so that will create a veil for you to operate under.”

  I wondered why I was fighting this. I needed this. My soul needed this. Veralee deserved this. My thoughts careened into a deep valley with two red rock mountains on either side. My fingers were locked with the love of my life. She stood up on her toes to kiss me on the cheek as the setting sun flirted with the mountain peak.

  I heard voices. Children’s voices. They sounded glorious. A boy and girl appeared before me. The children we never had. The children I needed to save. “I accept.”

  His eyes widened. “Good. Great. You will need this.”

  He held out his hand and a big silver coin hung over the sides of his palm. I grabbed the coin and looked at it. A dragon holding a pearl that had been embedded into the center of the coin was engraved on it.

  Dragon-Eyes said, “That will get you into the School of the Learned Warrior. They will have to pass the requisite tests, but this will allow you entry.”

  I tucked it into the leather pouch that hung from my sword belt.

  One week later, I entered the tree line of the King’s Woods. I’d woken up today with a piece of parchment that said Pearl on my chest. That was the signal word Dragon-Eyes and I had agreed on. I had to be wary for members of the King’s Guard, who were instructed to kill anyone who illegally entered the royal family’s property.

  Armed with a longbow and a quiver of arrows, I plunged into the olive abyss. Shades of brown and green competed for prominence as only pinpricks of sunlight sneaked through the heavy canopy above. I tried to move in silence, mindful of the twigs and brush beneath my boots.

  A surge of anticipation cascaded from head to toe, leaving my feet tingling as I jumped over a small stream. I didn’t see or hear anything as I found a trail and decided to follow it. I remained off the beaten path to avoid detection.

  I came to another creek and wanted to disguise myself a bit more. I scooped up fistfuls of mud and plastered them to my bearded face, my forehead and around my eyes. I squeezed my leather hip pouch, making sure the silver coin was safe.

  A bolt of panic struck my chest. Was this all real? Was the wizard setting me up? It didn’t make any sense. My heart finally calmed down and I realized I was overreacting. I spotted a golden snake at the last moment and jumped over the snapping reptile.

  I heard the crunching sounds of leaves, which started to get closer, and I hid behind some thick brush. I peered through the branches at two members of the King’s Guard heading south. Good for me. I continued northeast in a race to find a castaway child before the wild animals did.

  Could this really cleanse my soul and allow me into the heavens? Had I gone too far? How do you undo the past?

  I detected the soft pounding of horses’ hooves in the distance, drawing nearer. I hid behind the wide trunk of an oak tree. I strained my ears as they passed.

  One man said, “Rodgers. Go back and kill the babe. It won’t do to let down our king.”

  I carefully peeked around the tree and noticed one man pivot and turn his horse in the opposite direction. I took off at a smart pace, trying to keep up with the man on horseback, but there were too many obstructions in my path.

  I couldn’t let him get to the innocent child. I kept fighting the landscape to get closer to the path and stop the man before he killed the baby. I ran brazenly along the path, not caring if someone saw me. After two more steps, I suddenly dove into the thicket.

  A stream intersected the path and the man had stopped to let his horse have a drink. I took the longbow off my right shoulder and plucked an arrow from the quiver. I knocked the arrow and moved quietly onto the path.

  From a crouched position, I slowly stood up, drawing the arrow back as I rose. I aimed, held and exhaled to steady my body. My two fingers released from the bow string with a twang. The arrow hummed through the air, speeding toward its target.

  The wide tip burrowed into the left side of the man’s back, felling him from the horse. The charger bolted, sprinting past me and down the path. I needed to hurry. I scurried down the beaten trail and jumped over the red waters of the stream and the body.

  A foul odor assailed my nostrils. The scent of burnt flesh put an immediate frown on my face as I continued on my quest. I hopped over another golden snake and followed my nose. The smells were intensifying, and a sick feeling ran through my gut.

  I heard angry growling and painful shrieking all at the same time. I increased my pace and shoved some branches out of my face. My heart almost stopped pumping. Surrounded by a bevy of scorched animals lay a beautiful baby boy.

  I scooped the redheaded child up and immediately noticed the cut on the top of his foot. The bastards known as the King’s Guard had cut him so the animals would find him faster. How cruel could a person be? The boy had a cleft palate, but other than that, he looked perfect. How could the king have sent this boy away to die?

  I stared at the babe and smiled. At least, I thought I smiled. I couldn’t tell as it had been so long. Tears streaked down my mud-laden face and my thoughts went to Veralee. I would raise him for my wife’s redemption
and for my empty soul. This would help to fill it up.

  My destiny had been carved out, and now I had to follow it. I was a father now. Felt damn good to say. Overwhelming emotion streaked through my body, causing a numbing sensation. Life. I was alive again for the first time in years. I was going to complete this mission and be the best father I could be. My life had meaning again.

  I clutched the baby to my chest and our hearts beat in unison.

  THE END

  ***

  This was a character backstory for the Pearl of Wisdom Saga. To find out more visit my website.

  http://jasonpaulricebooks.com/

  ***

  Newsletter:

  http://wix.us12.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=665dc0f022fe051e64658f2a5&id=fe264a44d3

  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling Author Jason Paul Rice was born and raised in the steel city of Pittsburgh. A strong work ethic was instilled in Jason from a very young age. Dedication and sacrifice were constantly exemplified by his mother, Judy, who taught Jason that nothing comes easy. After working extensively as a Chef (yes, you can ask him questions about food or cooking), Jason took the polar bear plunge into the icy waters of the book publishing world. He uses the accumulated lessons from a crazy life, and puts heart and soul into his writing.

  Ragged Heroes

  By Andy Peloquin

  Chapter One

  "Keeper's beard, boy, you're one hell of an overgrown bastard!" Corporal Rold, a large man with a heavy black beard, dark eyes, and craggy face, shouted up at Endyn. "I've never seen a man so ugly a whore'd kick him out of bed, but blacken my boots, if you ain't the exception to the rule."

  Duvain winced. Endyn bore the tirade with his usual stoic silence, but Duvain recognized the hardening around his brother's mouth, his typical response to the mockery he always drew.

  The corporal's abuse continued unabated. "I'd say you have a face only a mother could love, but I can still see traces of the Keeper-damned raptor's egg you crawled out of." Though he didn't even reach Endyn's chest—few men did—his volume more than made up for the size difference. "Quite frankly, I'm sick just imagining the draconic-looking slit that managed to spew you out."

  Duvain shifted and coughed. The movement drew the corporal's attention. "And you're not much better, shite-for-brains! Here I thought the big one was the ugliest of the lot, yet you look like some afterbirth disgorged from a demon's taint."

  Duvain managed to keep the smile from his face. Corporal Rold's words rolled off him—his father had been particularly creative with his insults when he'd had a few cups of agor. He'd learned to take the abuse; better he endure the stream of derision than letting Endyn, always an easy target, suffer under the shouts and stares of those who met him. Endyn's brutish exterior hid a kind, gentle soul.

  "So you think you're good enough to join Jade Battalion, eh?" Spittle flew from the corporal's mouth.

  "No, sir!" Duvain responded at full volume, fighting the urge to wipe the moisture from his ear. "But we've been ordered to join the Fifth Company, and a good Legionnaire never questions orders." He thrust out the rolled up parchment that contained their instructions.

  Corporal Rold looked at it as if at a leper's privates. With a disdainful expression, he took it, unrolled it, and scanned the contents with a disgusted grunt. "As if things weren't bad enough, now they're sending us the dreck of the army."

  Duvain said nothing. He and Endyn had been at the bottom of their training company back in Voramis. They'd been lucky to be sent across the Frozen Sea to join the war against the Eirdkilrs at all.

  "Bugger it!" Corporal Rold threw up his hands, rolling his eyes to the heavens. "At least they've given us a meat shield big enough to protect a few of us real Legionnaires from enemy arrows." He shot a glare at Endyn. "Not much good for much else, I wager."

  Endyn's stiff posture and the hard set of his jaw spoke volumes. His right hand twitched at his side, the way it did when the dragonskin was driving him crazy. Duvain had no idea how his brother put up with the constant itching of the scaled, stiff, thickened patches of skin. The heavy mail shirts and breastplates would be making the friction far worse. The dragonskin was one of the few things that could crack Endyn's stoicism.

  "Get out of here!" The corporal gave a dismissive wave. "Owen here will show you where to stash your gear, then report back here for duty. Got it?"

  "Yes, Corporal!" Endyn and Duvain shouted, giving their best salute.

  With a snort and a muttered curse for "the fresh batch of incompetents", Rold strode off.

  Private Owen, a sandy-haired Voramian with a weak chin and weaker shoulders made even narrower by his heavy armor, had stood behind the imposing corporal, listening to the tirade with a half-smile and a gleam in his grey eyes. Now, he stepped forward and extended a slim hand to Duvain. "Glad to meet you."

  Duvain shook. He was surprised to find the private's hand strong and callused, despite its small size. "Duvain. This is my brother Endyn."

  When Endyn shook, his huge hand—too large even on his massive frame—swallowed half of Owen's forearm. Owen tried hard not to show how much Endyn's height impressed him. Duvain had always been tall among the boys of Northpass, but Endyn stood at least head and shoulders above him, taller even than the huge warhorses roaming the camp. His brother had enormous shoulders and a barrel chest any blacksmith would envy, feet the size of a small coracle, and a patchy beard that concealed the outgrowths of skin that covered his oversized jaw. On the bad days, his dragonskin appeared above the neck of his gambeson. Thankfully, no trace of the grey rash-like growth was visible today.

  "Don't mind the corporal," Owen told them. "He's a mean son of a bitch, no doubt about it, but a good one to have at your back in a fight. Stay out of his way, keep your hands out of his pack, and mind your shield, and he'll stick to just shouting at you."

  Endyn and Duvain nodded. Endyn said nothing, but Duvain caught the tightness in his brother's expression. People tended to find an excuse to pick on Endyn, no matter what he did or didn't do. The fact that he stood nearly twice the height of the average man and, as Corporal Rold had taken pains to point out, had a face only his mother could love—had loved, with all her dearly departed heart—made him a target. He'd bear the abuse with his stoic silence until Duvain intervened. Intervention had earned him more than a few beatings, at least until Endyn realized his size gave him an advantage. None of the boys in Northpass had picked on either of them after Endyn waded into a few fights.

  "This way," Owen said, nodding toward the muddy main avenue that cut through the heart of the encampment.

  A city of tents, picket fences, stables, sprawled across the plains to the west of Icespire. The camp of the Legion of Heroes spread out over more acres than Duvain could count—roughly four thousand men were housed here at any given time, but the camp was sized for ten thousand soldiers. Plus the draft horses, oxen, carts, wagons, and teamsters that comprised the logistics trains delivering supplies around the conquered lands on the enormous island continent of Fehl.

  Every Legion-issue canvas tent was identical: dun-colored square structures slightly taller than the average man, held up by ropes attached to iron stakes driven deep into the muddy ground. Despite the chaotic movement of men and animals in the camp, there was an orderliness that any architect would envy. The tents had all been erected in neat lines, with soldiers' and officers' tents surrounding the tents of their battalion commanders. As Owen explained, the soldiers were grouped by company and broken into platoons, with every eight to twelve-man squad occupying one of the huge tents.

  The singular smell of "army camp" hung thick in the air. It was a distinct odor of dirt churned to muck by animal hooves and booted feet, sweaty men who bathed far too infrequently, and wet canvas and rope. Mud covered everything and everyone, painting the simple tents a dull, dusty grey. Men lounged in various states of undress, drank from pitchers and skins of every conceivable size and shape, and argued at full volume.

>   The camp of the Legions wasn't much to look at—certainly not the place of glory and heroism the recruiters had promised.

  The city of Icespire, however, exceeded the fanciful descriptions of the men that had returned to Voramis. Duvain had spent his final hours on the boat watching the city drawing closer, the details of the city growing clearer.

  Icespire derived its name from the single crystalline tower that rose from the highest point of the hill upon which the city sat. The tower reflected the blue of the ocean and the white of the fluffy clouds that clustered around the enormous structure. To Duvain, it seemed like a dagger of clear sapphire thrust by a giant's hand into the belly of the sky.

  The city had grown up along the banks of the Frozen Sea, gradually expanding as more and more Einari settled the land. While not as large as Voramis or Praamis, the two largest cities in the south of Einan, its denizens numbered well over a hundred thousand.

  By comparison, the camp of the Legion of Heroes was small. Hard to believe that the army camp—a massive, sprawling thing that occupied the entire western slope of the hill—occupied enough farmland to raise crops for the entire village of Northpass.

  Private Owen led them through the muddy lanes toward a tent that looked identical to the others around it. "This is us," he said, motioning for them to enter.

  Duvain had to stoop to enter, but Endyn nearly bent double to fit through the door. He remained hunched over—the peak of the tent barely cleared Duvain's head.

  The slim private indicated the wooden two-level bunk bed beside the tent's opening. "This'll be your bunk," he said. "Your packs get stowed beneath. The good news is that you won't have to worry about anyone filching your stuff. Sergeant Brash doesn't take kindly to that sort of thing. Last one who got caught with his hand in a comrade's pack…" He gave a wry grin. "Let's just say Brien is going to have a mighty tough time scratching his behind for the next few weeks."