“Nice evening,” Erik said grasping the man’s outstretched hand.
“It’s okay, I suppose,” the farmer replied. “I wish it would rain at night a bit more.”
“It’s not too fun to shovel in the rain though,” Erik said handing the farmer a shovel on their way to the stable.
“That’s true. Say, I’ve seen you around this place. Are you Malgar’s boy? Funny, I didn’t know Malgar had any children.”
“He doesn’t. My mother works here.”
“Oh,”
They loaded the manure pile in silence. An occasional grunt punched through the stillness to alleviate the tension of the muscles and mood. When they finished, the farmer paid Erik the penny and headed off into the darkness.
Erik went into the stables, put the shovels away, and began flipping the coin into the air. The fresh red copper caught the moonbeams on its edges as it spun in the air. A bad flip caught the edge of the coin on Erik’s thumb and his treasure went rolling into the stall occupied by the stranger’s horse. Erik crept in looking down into the bedding for his lost treasure. A red sliver of the coin’s edge glistened next to the stallion’s left hind hoof. The horse turned its head questioningly toward him. A white streak on the horse’s nose glowed in the moonlight that shone through the stable windows. Erik rested his hand on the horse’s rump with caution. A kick in the face would put him down for the night in the worst way possible. With his hand and manner reassuring the horse Erik stooped down to sweep up his penny. On his way up the horse’s brand caught his eye. The oddity of the marking lingered in his eyes, and he traced it with his fingers. Erik could not identify any of the regular brands of ownership. A crude tree scarred the horse on most of its left flank. At the farthest end he guessed the circular object to be a sun with its rays falling toward the tree and nowhere else. Erik had ever seen a brand so large, cruel for the amount of space it consumed. He moved on toward the back of the stables, his duty to care for the Cavaliers’ horses on his mind.
Two horses quartered together in the largest stall at the back. These horses were bigger than any horses Erik had ever seen. Long, powerful legs rippling with muscles supported the mass of their bodies. Their length seemed shorter than horses of this size seemed to need, causing the horses to appear even taller. One inched closer to Erik, jet black, with the moonlight reflecting silver on all its curves and musculature. A white snip decorated the nose. The other, a little smaller than his massive brother, but his brown coat, sandy mane and tail, and black stockings made him a colorful juxtaposition.
Erik had heard stories of the King’s Cavaliers. The best stories the bards told had Cavaliers involved in them. The Cavaliers fought like giants on horseback and two could ride down whole armies like reapers in the field. The stories always placed them in pairs. If a foe unhorsed a Cavalier he would die trying to defend his vanquished mount making the offending legions weep in blood. Their horses had as many stories told of them in their own right. It seemed like figures from the tales stood in front of him now. Looking at them most of the stories had the ring of truth to them.
His mind still fresh from pondering about the strange brand Erik looked to see what brand the Cavalier’s used. Erik studied the horses for branding in the usual areas. None of the points on the shoulder or rump had a mark resembling a brand. He would probably find something during the rubdowns. The horses nickered and danced as Erik approached. Erik understood. Strangers made him nervous as well.
He had a way with horses. While he did not quite have a groomsman’s skill his capabilities in the stable were adequate. He didn’t mind the smell and he enjoyed the honest work and the company of the horses. He hoped to learn as a master groom, under hire from a lord or a lady. If he worked hard, and met the right people, the prospects existed. The work paid well enough and the labor helped clear his head of random annoying thoughts which sometimes crept up on him.
With patience and care he calmed the horses down enough to put two large feed buckets on the ground under their noses. He went to work on the horses’ watering trough. Green and black sludge clung to its sides. The water filled for the horses when the Cavaliers first arrived had picked up a glistening film. This would not do for such horses.
Erik turned the trough over, emptying the contents outside the stall, careful not to soak the bedding. Retrieving a dry wire brush from the wall he scrubbed vigorously removing every speck of scum from the sides. He poured his first bucket of fresh water around the sides and drained the trough again to inspect his work. With a feeling of accomplishment he filled the trough, put away the wire brush, and grabbed a grooming brush.
The black horse pulled his head from his refreshing absorption and stared right at Erik. He could have sworn it gave him a humorous, mocking wink. He decided to play along. It would help to have someone to talk to while he worked.
“I may have gone a little overboard with the watering trough but it’s not often we get the courtesy of guests such as you in this tavern.” Erik told the stallion, his brush moving back and forth pushing away the day’s grime and sweat. “Besides, I really have nothing better to do, and it’s not like anyone in there is worth doing anything for anyway.”
The stallion’s hind foot came down on Erik’s. Not the full weight of the horse but enough to pin it to the ground and cause a great amount of pain.
“Except the Cavaliers, of course, but they’re probably not too interested in talking with a stable hand,” Erik amended. Suddenly, the weight and pain left. Erik laughed a good long time. He did not do that often, but being alone he allowed himself the luxury. The conversation continued throughout the grooming. Erik laughed every time it seemed the horses had a response of some kind to any of his statements. Every burr and miniscule twig the horses had picked up on their journeys he removed with great care. He checked the hooves and shoes to make sure the owners would be aware of any preventable dilemmas. Finally he stepped back, examining the product of his efforts. He beamed at the work he had done and thought these horses had received the best care he knew how to give.
He looked out of the stall toward the moon. Three hours had passed since he first headed out of the tavern. His work no longer consumed his mind and body and he yawned. While walking out of the stable he looked at the stall holding the stranger’s gray horse. The owner must have retrieved his horse silently in the middle of Erik’s work. Erik could now tell his mother about these two amazing horses and bid her good night. He also looked forward to sleeping in his own bed.
The instant Erik stepped into the tavern he craned his neck around to see if he could spot the legendary Cavaliers. Two men sat in the corner table with large tankards of ale in their hands. They would have stood out among the throng of the usual customers even if they did not wear the gold cloaks and brilliant red over shirts of the Cavaliers. A large monstrosity of a man with long brown hair and a clean-shaven face held a mug dwarfed by an oversized fist which he held precociously. He talked with a great deal of animation to his companion and each time he appeared to make a point brown fluid would spill as he jabbed it into the empty air. Remarkably, not a single drop fell onto the attire of the two men. The other man listened but kept his eyes on the area around him, soaking in every detail. His black curly hair would swing with each bob of his head but it always appeared each curl wanted to place itself to frame his face in the most appealing way. Grooming his small goatee with a well-manicured hand his eyes came around to look at Erik.
With an inconspicuous nod he nudged his giant friend and exchanged a few words. With this, the full attention of the two men fell on Erik. He did not like this. He felt trapped in this large room. He needed to run. He must have done something wrong to have people such as these pay attention to him. Both men smiled at Erik. The large man gave him a wink, lifted his mug in a toast, and started to laugh. Erik smiled and, with a nervous wave, bolted toward the backrooms.
Gracie blocked the way into the hall. A few years older than Erik she had begun working and living i
n the tavern last summer. Erik always felt awkward looking down into her face. His eyes never seemed to want to stay where they should and he always seemed to have a good view down her bodice. She noticed and, instead of admonishing his actions, she would put him into situations that would further embarrass him.
Gracie once asked if he would mind holding a chair stable so she could reach the top shelf of the pantry in the kitchen. Not thinking he could reach the top shelf with ease he obliged and steadied her chair. Gracie’s accidents always happened at the most inconvenient times, so of course she lost her balance. Erik moved to catch her but the additional weight jarred him. Grabbing her, they both spun to the floor. Gracie, now below Erik, had her legs wrapped around Erik’s waist and her skirts bunched uncomfortably between them. Erik’s face was planted right in the valley of her breasts. When Erik managed to recover enough to pull his head out of his cozy resting place, he saw his mother looking straight at him with a look of absolute fury. She surprised him when he did not receive the tongue thrashing he expected but Gracie did not say a word to him for the good part of a month.
“Where you off to in such a hurry, big guy?” she asked. Snapping his attention to the present Erik fought to maintain his composure. He could feel the heat trying to crawl up his neck while he cleared his throat.
“I am just going back to see if mother needs anything before I go down for the night.” Erik replied.
“Aw, what a good boy you are. You know she’s a big girl and can take care of herself for a little while longer. Besides I think she is still with her date. I thought you could do some things for me while I take a little break.” She said with a coy smile, thrusting out her bosom.
The heat he had been fighting off from his neck burst through and raced into his face. Looking at the Cavaliers didn’t help. Both men still looked at him and the giant burst out laughing. They could see this game and enjoyed the entertainment.
“Uh, no thanks, Gracie.” Erik said. His mother harped on him about the dangers of living and working in such an atmosphere. While she did what she had to do she did not approve, like, or condone what the establishment did. She tried her best to shield Erik from the more unsavory episodes. What she could not shield from him she made sure he understood such actions were not the life she wanted for him. Erik tried his best to keep his mother’s approval. This situation led to an abundance of knowledge but a complete lack of experience with the more adult aspects of the tavern’s business. Right now, however, Erik had to get away from the two men who gave him an inordinate amount of attention.
Why did he feel so oafish? Erik dealt with customers before but never legendary, deadly and ferocious customers. He ran down the long hallway and came to the room he and his mother shared. He turned the knob at the same time he flung himself into the door. Everything went wrong. Instead of dashing into the safety of the room, his hand slipped on the locked door and he ran full force into it with a resounding thud. All the air rushed out of his lungs as he collapsed to the ground. With great effort Erik got to his feet and fiddled around in his pockets for the key.
“Mom? You in there?” he croaked out as best he could. He did not want to walk in at an awkward moment as had happened before.
No answer came. He worked the key into the lock making as much noise as possible. He jiggled the loose handle a few times for good measure and slowly opened the door. The lamp’s fire still burned and the window had been opened but the blood paralyzed Erik. The odor filled his nose at the same time his eyes took in the scene. Blood covered everything. The ceiling dripped in places, and little streams of blood ran down the walls into large thick clotting pools on the floor. His mother lay on her bed, swimming in a crimson pond. The gash in her belly allowed her entrails to spread below her waist and onto the floor. A necklace of irregularly spaced, large, purple bruises ran around her neck. Her pale blue face accentuated her large purple lips. Erik would never forget his mother’s eyes. Her lifeless eyes still had terror trapped inside, like a prisoner in a glass box begging for freedom.
Erik screamed. A high-piercing sound escaped his throat and the sound echoed in his ears. After what seemed like eons he could make out Malgar’s large round body rumbling down the hallway, followed by others.
“What’s the matter, boy?” Malgar shouted as he shook Erik trying to bring him out of the chaotic vortex of his mind.
Erik pointed into the room, his hands trembling. The door had closed to a crack. Malgar let Erik go and pushed the door open to reveal the gory scene. With Malgar’s large hands gone Erik turned around and retched all over himself.
*****
The wood supporting his mother’s lifeless body crackled and popped as the fire consumed it. Many people called her names, most of them not good; whore and wench highlighted the milder terms. Erik preferred, Maria and Mom. She had worked hard at being the best mother she thought she could be. He wished he had been able to tell her how happy he made her.
The townsfolk thought the funeral exceeded the lowly woman’s station. Erik knew there should have been much more. She worked her entire life for his benefit alone. She had made much more difficult decisions on a daily basis for him than most of the proper people in town would make in a lifetime. Erik knew his existence put her in danger but she never blamed him for it. She had always told him about the blessing she received when she had him.
Erik stood next to Malgar, watching his mother’s remains turn to ash. Whoever had taken care of her body after Erik had found her had done a remarkable job. She lay as radiant today as the last morning Erik spent with her. Only once, and briefly, did Erik ponder how much this skill must have cost.
“Do you want to stay until the embers die?” Malgar asked with a sigh.
Time passed without an answer. The knot in his throat would not allow an answer. Erik could no longer look at the fire burning in front of him. His eyes turned toward the blue sky for whatever comfort it would give. The sky opened to nothing, an emptiness which matched his heart. Erik turned away and started walking down the hill toward the city.
“What do you want done with her ashes?” Malgar asked as he hurried to catch up.
“I don’t know. What’s customary?” Erik said, his voice returning to him.
“Well, some people prefer to keep them.”
Erik stopped walking and pondered. “No. That would just keep the hurt with me, not her.”
Malgar nodded. “I think you’re right. I always thought it was kind of a morbid thing to do myself but I guess it helps some people.” Malgar shifted his weight a few times and rubbed his chin. He would start a word only to cut it off mid-syllable with a look of frustration. With a look of surrender he said, “You know, some people go to a place their loved one liked or a place that had a special meaning in their lives together and cast the ashes across them.”
Erik thought of all the places he remembered going to with his mother. He liked the idea better.
“Mom liked the trees.” Erik saw Malgar’s face brighten when he broke the silence. “Every once in a while, when times were not so tough and the sky was blue, like today, she would take me to the woods outside the west gate of the city. I always thought it was an awful long walk. She would take me out there and we would have lunch under a tree right next to a clearing. Sometimes she would sing, even though she knew she wasn’t good at it. I am going to miss that. Her singing always gave me some comfort. You know it is not all that much of a walk, now that I think about it.”
Erik turned around to watch the black smoke rise into the sky. Erik tried to imagine his mother’s spirit lifting upward with the billows. He saw the smoke rise to the empty sky but there was nothing he could use to fool himself into feeling better. The tears came again and he could not stop them. Malgar held out his hands and Erik fell into the cavity of his embrace. His arms wrapped around him strong and tight.
“I tried to warn her,” Malgar said in a choking voice. “I told her any man who would pay that much for a woman was looking for t
rouble. They figure anybody who might care would look the other way.” Malgar paused trying to compose himself. “She reassured me, and told me this may be the last time she would have to do this, and everything would be all right. I shouldn’t have listened but the money got to me, too.”
For the first time in Erik’s life he sensed pain in Malgar’s voice. Always a rock in the direst of times, the man looked beaten. Erik realized how much his mother had meant to him, not as a serving maid, but also as a friend. He and Malgar stood there holding each other for a long time crying into each other’s shoulders.
“I have something for you, boy.” Malgar let go of the embrace looking around as if to say ‘This hug never happened.’ He led Erik into town and into the tavern now filled with many horrible memories. Malgar walked into the back to his personal room and came back with two pouches, one in either hand. He gave the larger pouch to Erik first. “This is your money now, Erik. There are eight gold, sixteen silver pieces, and a smattering of copper. The gold came from your mother’s last night of work. There were ten pieces but I had to use two to get the funeral I thought she deserved.”
Erik opened the pouch and stared inside. More money sparkled at him in one bag than Erik had seen in his entire life. He tied the pouch closed and moved it to the side of the table to see the other pouch Malgar still held.
“Your mother received this as payment the first night she…well, you know. She wanted to save it for your wedding day. You could sell it and maybe get out of this hell hole with your beautiful new bride.” He handed Erik the smaller pouch.
Erik worked the small tie strings loose and shook the contents into his hand. A small cloth-wrapped bundle fell into his open palm. He laid the tiny package on the table and began to open it gingerly. In the middle of a fold in the cloth lay a cut, marble-sized ruby. Erik could not believe it. He gently removed the stone from the cloth and peered at it. It would have been priceless except for the one flaw. Starting at the top center of the gem and running down one side a black scraggly line marred the beauty of the stone. The imperfection prevented the light from refracting through, drawing further attention to the corundum’s deformity.
Ascent of the Unwanted (The Chronicle of Unfortunate Heroes Book 1) Page 4