Ascent of the Unwanted (The Chronicle of Unfortunate Heroes Book 1)

by Nathan T. Boyce

  He was amazed this was the same man he had rescued over three years ago. The man he rescued was timid and could barely speak. He would have taken Erik’s words seriously and been chagrined. Lawt was now well versed and educated better than Erik, without a trace of meekness in him. His appearance had even changed. His hair was once wild and matted with dirt, blood, tangles and who knew what else. Now it was clean and trimmed with the length pulled back neatly into a leather strap. His face, once a war zone of dirt, scars, and hair, was now clean with two fine braids of hair representative of his beard on either side of his chin. Lawt even carried himself differently, not with the slouch of one trying to escape notice, but with the confidence and air of a man who demanded respect. Despite these drastic changes you could still tell his parentage was less than pure. The large brow, stunted nose, and massive under bite were obvious signs of his lineage. It looked as if the one snaggletooth on his lower lip had developed into two, one on either side, almost like tusks.

  “She helps me sometimes.” Lawt grunted. The rough timber in his voice was still there. The tone and bearing along with the man’s pronounced features made him a walking contradiction. He interrupted what he was saying by finishing up another glass of water. “I had an idea on how to help Ghost. Well that is, Ramona had an idea,” Lawt finished. The man at least had the decency to look sheepish.

  “You told her!” He had told Lawt in confidence about Ghost because he knew he would not be able to train him alone. An ally against the trainers was nice to have around on occasion.

  “Don’t worry, she’s safe,” Lawt said “I go to her with all kinds of problems. She’s really smart. Besides, they already know about Ghost.”

  “They know? You told them, too!” Erik accused. His ire built into a thundercloud.

  “Take it easy. Lawt… I mean, I didn’t tell anyone.” Lawt looked down ashamed of the slip up. “These people are trained to take care of sick horses remember! You know better. They knew the possibility the instant they looked at the injuries. The way the horse was acting only confirmed it.”

  “Yeah,” Erik conceded his friend’s point. “I guess I should have known better. Still, if they have always known hope isn’t lost. I can…. Hey, wait a minute! What kinds of problems? Why haven’t you told me you’ve been having problems?” Erik asked, getting angry again. He could not believe that Lawt had tried to slip that passed him and he almost let him.

  “That’s not important right now,” Lawt said, looking down at his empty plate trying to find one more morsel to eat. “What’s important is what she thought of for Ghost. We need to measure his pace at each cadence- walk, trot, cantor, and gallop. We also need him to learn to count as high as he can. If we can do that it is just a matter of math. We take the measurement of the cadence and figure out how many times Ghost’s front left hoof will hit the ground before it reaches that distance. Ramona said she would help us.”

  Erik barehanded the last pancake on his plate and gave it to Lawt pondering the solution his friend had given him. It was feasible, better than the one he had been using. He had been trying to keep track of when he thought Ghost should be at the distance required, then he would use the link to tell him to stop. It seemed to work. Well, it had worked once. One time in three months was not what Erik thought was a winning strategy.

  “Okay,” Erik said, “but in the future you should consult me about things that regard my mount, especially if you are going to be talking about it with her.”

  Erik could see real progress for the first time over the next few months. Ghost had learned to count to three early, and even went beyond most going up to five. The horse picked up the counting slowly until he reached six, but even this took months. Six was the highest the horse could comprehend. Erik himself thought of the solution to this problem. Every time Ghost would reach six he would send Erik a signal. Erik would keep track of these and when Ghost had reached the destination he would send a signal back. Technically it was cheating. The horse had to be able to estimate distances on his own. But if nobody knew how Ghost did it they could not say he hadn’t done it alone.

  Directions were easier for the horse to comprehend. Implanting the sun into Ghost’s mind was the key. As soon as Ghost was able to maintain that Erik would start Ghost off pointing north. With each quarter turn to the right or left the horse made, Erik would move the sun. After a while Ghost soon learned on his own that each quarter turn he made corresponded with where the placement of the sun would be.

  After Ghost had learned the two skills it was simply a matter of combining them. Grasping the idea was easy, actually performing the tasks was another matter. Four months went by before Erik thought Ghost was ready for the qualifying test.

  “So, you finally think your precious little Ghosty is capable of testing,” Rovan said with a smile on his face. “It’s about time. The rest of your class has been running full speed charges for the past month. Even if your horse passes today it will be months before you catch up.”

  Every time Erik wanted something that had to do with his mount, Rovan had a way of making him feel small. “I believe that Ghost is capable of passing, sir,” Erik said with what he hoped was a respectful tone.

  “Very well. As you know the testing is simple. The first part is The Statue. At your command Ghost will maintain his position and remain quiet without flinching…regardless of what I do to him. The second is The Follower. I will give you a list of commands that you will transmit to your mount via the link. Your mount’s performance is graded for alacrity and, for some ceremonial commands, performance. The third and final test is The Messenger. I will send out two men with precise distances in two separate directions. I will tell you where I sent them. You will tell your mount via the link where to go. Your mount will find one man then the other. When a man sees your mount stop for ten counts it means the mount believes it is where it should be. He will blow his horn to signal that he has seen your mount. The mount must then come back here and go in the direction of the second man. Both men have to signal that they have seen the horse stop for ten counts for the horse to pass. Any questions?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Very well. Let’s begin.”

  Erik trotted Ghost out to the testing arena and turned his head to look for Rovan’s instructions. The instant his head turned Erik could feel the familiar teeth working at his hair. Ghost had never gotten to the point of pulling a large clump out but he had come very close. Erik always dealt with the pain. The teeth were hard and not too gentle but the act was so familiar it was almost a comfort. At Rovan’ signal Erik took a deep breath. “Still” he whispered to his horse while reinforcing his meaning with the link.

  Horses always had small little movements and twitches of muscle that gave life to their elegant forms. The swishing of a tail, steady chewing, or prodding of the ground helped to make them more than matter even when they were not moving. With that simple word everything froze, not even the contraction of muscles anticipating a move. The only movement coming from the animal was the expansion of the chest and the wind catching the flowing hair on Ghost’s mane and tail.

  Rovan walked up to Ghost, the first move was abrupt. Rovan’s fist came around and smashed Ghost squarely in the face. The burst of pain in Erik’s head was intense and inwardly Ghost seethed. The impact seemed to have come from nowhere. Outwardly, the horse’s head took the shock of the blow, when the momentum had been expended the head ceased its movement. Ghost did not even move his head back to face forward. Rovan then tried to push Ghost. The horse was not moving.

  A smile flashed across Rovan’s face. The Herdmaster walked to the fence enclosing the arena and picked a small blade of grass. He crept back to the horse having news of the horse’s handicap and was trying to take advantage of it. Rovan let the blade of grass tickle the sensitive flesh lining the Ghost’s ear canal. Annoyance was slowly building in the horse.

  Rovan was pulling hair out one strand at a time from Ghost’s beautiful gray tail. When that
failed he slapped the horse hard on the flank to cue it to run freely. Still the horse did not move. Erik tried to comfort Ghost through the link but the concept of testing was above his comprehension. All Ghost knew was some person was trying to get him to move and all his training told him not too.

  “I must say, you have done an excellent job with this portion of the testing, Erik. I think that was some of the hardest testing I have done for that stage.”

  Erik was handed a parchment with a list of commands on it. Ghost loved to show off so teaching him the ceremonial commands had been simple. Quickly Erik went through halt, left cantor, right cantor, then moved Ghost into passage, slowing him all the way down to piaff and finally ending with pirouette. Ghost responded quickly, although the showier aspects were a little sloppy. A little more training in his Passage was needed.

  “Fair enough,” Rovan said. “It looks like we are two thirds of the way done. If Ghost passes this next test you are well on your way to being a Roh’Darharim.”

  For the first time it seemed as if Rovan was cheering for him to succeed. “While you were distracted giving commands I sent my two scouts out. I didn’t want to give you a hint of where to send your horse before it was time. The first point for your horse is due north and half a league.”

  Erik could not believe his luck. North! Erik transmitted the directions to Ghost. Slowly, Ghost worked his way out of the arena. As soon as the horse found the opening he turned north and cantered away. The horsed moved his front hooves slowly moving his head back and forth looking for any obstruction that could hinder forward progress. With the excitement, the first ping coming across the link startled Erik. He needed to keep track of those. Two, three, four he was going to make it. The counts came steadily. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, all the hard work was going to pay off! The late nights…

  “…would suggest you pay more attention to your superiors!” Erik turned his attention back to Rovan. His Herdmaster was red in the face with large beads of sweat glistening on his bald head. “You always have been a flaky one.”

  “I’m sorry, sir!” Erik said by rote, Forty-four, forty-five, forty-six. Stop!

  “I was complimenting you on the progress you have been making since your miserable hide came here to be trained. Now, I think I have to rethink myself and give…” Rovan stopped as a single note blasted from a horn in the north. “Humph! Well I guess that makes one lucky break. We all know that your precious Ghost couldn’t see danger if it stabbed him in the chest.”

  Erik could not think of anything to say to his Herdmaster that would not be construed as insubordinate. The one day that it seemed that Rovan was going to cut him a little slack the man goes back to his old form when Erik stopped paying attention to his surroundings. Erik always seemed to find the one thing that would change Rovan’s outlook from bad to miserable.

  The time Ghost took to get back passed slowly. Ghost came trotting carefully over the rise and navigated himself around impeding trees and boulders. Each of Ghost’s steps were cautious as holes could hamper his movement. On the outside Erik calmly surveyed Ghost’s performance, but inside he anxiously wanted to get this testing completed. Ghost seemed to sense this and quickened his pace a bit. When the horse reached the open arena he came running up to his brother. “That was wonderful, boy,” Erik said while stroking Ghost’s neck.

  “Let’s stop this touching moment of self-congratulation and finish this,” Rovan said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Two leagues, south-southwest.”

  As Rovan rattled off the direction Erik proceeded to instruct Ghost on what direction he needed to go and gave Ghost the distance. The horse really did not need the distance, not with the method that he and Lawt had worked out. It was a habit carried over when the horse could still see. Ghost walked out of the arena again and meandered through the trees. Before Ghost left Erik’s sight he had signaled him three times.

  “I must say it is impressive that you managed to train the horse how to cross country like that,” Rovan said. The man was trying to be hospitable again. Erik tried to pay more attention to what was happening so as not to evoke the ire of his Herdmaster again.

  Four.

  Five.

  “It wasn’t all that difficult,” Erik said with a little smile, “Ghost is really an intelligent horse. He uses his other senses very well. The toughest part was keeping him moving in a straight line. We spent months getting him into the habit of continuously lining up the facing of his front and back hooves, as long as he does that he should be able to keep himself seven…I mean even.”

  Rovan’s eyes widened with that and a knowing smile crept across his face.

  Damn it! That pulse came at the same time Erik was forming the words in his mouth.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be keeping a pace count would you?” Rovan asked.

  “No.”

  “You know as the Herdmaster I can’t let there be a doubt in my mind that someone is cheating and unqualified to be Roh’Darharim. I have almost unlimited authority and power to banish such doubts, especially in the middle of testing.”

  Erik knew Rovan could do anything short of endangering the life of a trainee. The threat had shaken him to the point that he was not sure if Ghost had sent him another signal. He would just add one to his count. One miscounted pace should not put Ghost far off the mark.

  “You need to push on the earth until I figure out how to correct this,” Rovan yelled while simultaneously hitting Erik in the stomach.

  Erik buckled over and gasped for air. He gathered his will and went prone, beginning the rhythmic count off his performed push-ups. Another ping, how many was that now, thirteen? Fourteen? Better to assume thirteen this time. After twenty or thirty repetitions Erik began to get a pace going with Ghost’s pings. Five push-ups for Erik came around the same time as Ghost’s pacing alert but Erik was beginning to get tired. What was it that Olarin had said at the beginning of class so long ago? A Roh’Darharim could draw strength from his brother. Twenty, twenty-one.

  Erik probed into Ghost’s mind. He could feel Ghost’s mind separated into the sensory and coordinating functions. The strength would be in the latter portion. Erik concentrated, feeling the energy pulsing in the muscles of the young horse. Erik tried to pull some of it into his body. It was like pulling against a taught rope. The more he pulled on it the more it resisted. The struggle with the horse was beginning to fatigue him more than the push-ups.

  Thirty-Seven. The pace of his push-ups had been lost with Ghost’s signals long ago but he knew how many signals Ghost had sent him. They were halfway there. He was now struggling to push himself off the ground. If he could not get the energy from the horse maybe the horse could take some of this fatigue. He imagined all the fatigue he was feeling in his arms draining into the horse. There was backlash and Erik gasped at the shock. His muscles burned as the energy flowed into him. The fatigue began to be drawn from his arms and pulled into Ghost through a suction, being replaced by the unbridled energy of his brother.

  Rovan stood with either foot on Erik’s hands and pain shot through him. This was going to be too much. There was no way Erik was going to be able to continue to push, ignore the pain and keep Ghost’s pace count. “Got a second wind?” Rovan asked.

  “Not going to let you beat me,” Erik gasped between push-ups.

  Rovan began rocking back and forth on Erik’s hands. “Do you really think I am that petty?”

  “You…don’t hinder…anyone else.” Erik grunted.

  “Keep pushing and let me teach you a few things. I am doing a job, simply weaning out anyone who can’t handle the physical and mental demands of the training of being Roh’Darharim,” Rovan said adding a small grinding twist with his boots at the end of each rock. “If I could have I would have thrown Geoff out of training after the first week but we are so few in number they would not let me. Had I, he would still be alive today aiding us in other ways. Make it easier for you and me. Give up.We both know Ghost is
not going to find the second point by himself.”

  The realization came to Erik that he had indeed lost Ghost’s pace count. Rovan was right, Ghost would not find the spot by himself. It would be another half year before Rovan would allow him to retest. By that time his classmates would be a full year ahead of him.

  “Think about Ghost,” Rovan continued. “Are you doing your brother any favors? A blind horse asked to do everything the fully capable mounts are doing. You’re dooming your brother to a short life. I was against allowing you to continue in the first place, but again the council thought only of our numbers.”

  Erik was struggling again, the energy he had taken from Ghost had drained away. Was he doing the right thing? Did he have a right to do this to Ghost? Erik’s arms began to tremble. The reason he was here began to pale compared to what he faced. Erik could be here for years trying to get Ghost capable of passing this test. His commitment with the Cavalier’s cemented with Ghost, why did he have to be a Roh’Darharim? He could become a hostler or farm hand and accomplish a goal from earlier in his life. He had gotten out of the stigma set on him in Armeston as a bastard.

  Ghost would be taken care of, and the life of a draft horse was not a bad one. His arms trembled and his breaths came in short sporadic gasps. Erik tried not to think about the agonizing weight grinding the palms of his hands into the ground. The tops of his hands were bleeding where Rovan’s boots had begun to tear the skin. It would be easier on all accounts to just give up. The day was nice. Erik was sure that the Roh’Darharim would give him rest. Perhaps he would just sit out in the sun under a tree.

  Erik’s arms were no longer trembling. A brand blazed across his vision, a circle with lines radiating from it above a crude tree. The image burned red and painful from his memory. That was the one thing he had, the one clue that would lead him to his eventual goal. He would track the brand, but in order to do that he needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. Fleeing was not an option. The only option was success.