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Authors: Craig Alanson

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Bodric released
his wife

s
hand, and put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her against him.

You can tell those people
outside, that we

ll
not leave our home because ignorant fools are scared of a silly superstition.

He spoke through clenched
teeth, his jaw set in defiance.

It

s going to be all right,
honey. We

re
staying right here. Plain and simple.

The sheriff
shifted his feet uncomfortably.

It

s not that simple.

He pulled a scroll from a
pocket, and laid it on the kitchen table.

This
has gone beyond the Pettifoggers, or the miller. My lord the Baron has declared
your son banished


Banished?!

The Bladewells shouted
together.


And he

s offered a fair price for
your land,

the sheriff continued, pulling another scroll from his pocket,

a more than fair price. Even
generous.


This is outrageous! The
Baron-


Who is your liege lord, I
caution you, Mister Bladewell,

the sheriff said quickly, with one finger held up for emphasis.

It would not do to speak
ill of the Baron in front of his sheriff, I remind you.

Bodric fumed,
but held his tongue from saying what he felt about the Baron.

We will fight this,

he said weakly, feeling
he had to say something.

We
can appeal to his grace the Duchess.

The sheriff
shook his head sadly.

Bodric,
yes, you can appeal to the Duchess, at the assize court next winter, if you
travel to the castle. By that time, if you haven

t taken the Baron

s offer, he will force you
off your land,

the sheriff didn

t
need to mention that it would be he and his men carrying out the Baron

s orders,

and sell your land at
auction. And I can tell you, good sir, the Baron will make sure he is the only
bidder at the auction, and you will be the poorer for it. I know him, he

ll do it. Do you think the
Duchess will side with you, over the Baron, who is cousin to the Duchess

husband?

Bodric founds
his hands were shaking as he held his wife, and she looked up at him with tears
in her eyes. His own eyes stung, but he was determined not to show that to the
sheriff.

This
can

t be
happening, not to us. How can our neighbors, people we

ve known for years, be
afraid of our boy? He

s
a good boy!


There have bee odd things
going on around Koren, for years now,

the sheriff said gently.


Odd? Rumors and silly
stories-


Enough to scare people.

The sheriff interrupted.

Amalie wiped
the tears from her eyes; she wasn

t
sad or shocked, she was angry.

I
didn

t hear
people complaining when Koren helped harvest their crops over the years. or
when Koren nursed Redding's cow back to health. That animal was near death's door,
and Koren stayed by its side, day and night, and now it's scampering around the
field like a calf! Strange things happen all the time 'round here, was it
Koren's fault when that twister storm tore up the Rendell

s barn? Or when the flood
last year knocked out the bridge? Or when lightning stuck the blacksmith shop?
Were all those Koren

s
fault?


Amalie, Bodric, I can't
dispute that Koren has been a good boy; hard-working, always ready to help
people. Maybe there's something strange about him, maybe there's not, maybe
it's all superstitious stories. All I can say is that my master, the Baron, has
declared your son banished, and he has until Midsummers day to leave the
county. The two of you don't have to leave-


We

re not sending our son
away!

Mother and
father said in unison.

Not knowing
what else to say, for everything that could be said had been, the sheriff
pointed at the scrolls on the table, tapping them emphatically with a finger.

You have been officially
notified of our liege lord the Baron

s
declaration of banishment, and of his offer to purchase your property. I am
going outside to calm people down, and get them off your land. I

ll be back here next week,
by myself, and you can tell me your decision then. Until then, I suggest you
stay out of the village.

 

So it was
that, the week before Midsummer

s
Day, the Bladewell family loaded the few possessions they hadn

t already sold into their
wagon, and started down the narrow, rutted lane into the tiny village of Crebb

s Ford. Bodric had sold
the farm, and all their animals except the horse, to the Baron. The sheriff,
who had delivered the Baron

s
money, waved to Bodric as the wagon passed, but the sheriff wasn

t smiling, and neither
were the Bladewells. The sheriff wasn't smiling, because he felt sorry for the Bladewells;
it had been the sheriff's idea for the Baron to send them into exile. The legal
term was
banished
, but
exiled
sounded better, as if the Bladewells
had a choice at all. And technically, the Bladewell family had not been exiled,
only their thirteen year old son. Another reason the sheriff was not smiling
was that he knew the Baron had likely paid too much for the Bladewell's farm.
The amount of money the Baron had paid to the Bladewells was based on the
amount of crops and animals the farm produced under the hard work of the Bladewell
family. But the Baron had, foolishly, granted the farm to his youngest son, so
the boy could 'learn the practice of farming and animal husbandry'. The lazy
boy didn't know anything about farming, was apparently allergic to hard work,
and was going to fail as a farmer. And the sheriff knew the Baron would not be
happy when the most productive farm in the county fell into disrepair, and the
sheriff would get the blame. So, he waved to the Bladewells that morning, and
no one was smiling.

Bodric had to
drive the wagon through the village, for the east road was the only way across
the bridge. It was early yet, most people were either still in bed, or tending
to chores around their farms. The few people they met fell into two groups;
those who glared at them as if to say good riddance, and those who avoided
their eyes or pretended to be sad the Bladewells were leaving. A mile down the
lane, they passed by the farm of Bodric

s
brother Ander, who was pretending to fix a fence post, as an excuse to be out
by the road.

Ander.

Bodric said with a nod
toward his brother, and he brought the wagon to a halt.


Morning, Bodric.

Ander responded
uncomfortably.

So,
you

re leaving
then? I hear the Baron gave you a good price.


That

s between me and the
Baron.

Bodric
said bitterly.

Yes,
we

re leaving,
as if you didn

t
know that. You

re
not going to say you wish I would stay?

Ander looked
down at his shoes.

I
have a family too, Bodric. And you can

t
say your boy hasn

t
been around every time something bad happens around here.


You should be ashamed of
yourself, Ander Bladewell.

Amalie snapped.

Superstitious
foolishness! Koren is a good boy. Do you forget about the time Koren nursed
your horse back to health, when you'd given up? Was
that
bad luck for
you? Bodric, we

re
not wanted here, let

s
move on, before I lose my temper and say something uncharitable.

Bodric tapped
the reigns and the horse pulled the wagon away, without another word to his
brother. It had been Ander

s
betrayal that made Bodric decide to move; he did not care what the
Pettifoggers, or the miller, or anyone else in the town thought. But when
Bodric had looked out his front door that fateful morning, to see that his own
brother Ander had joined the people seeking Koren to be banished, Bodric had
not known what to say. His own brother wanted him banished from the town. Koren

s mother and father had
argued late into that night, before wearily deciding to sell the farm, and make
the long journey to a distant village where one of Amalie

s relatives lived. There,
they could buy another farm, and get a fresh start.

First, though,
they had to get through Crebb

s
Ford. Their route through the village was mostly quiet, until they passed by
the mill, with its broken waterwheel. The miller

s sons came out to jeer at the Bladewells,
and then they were joined by other boys; bullies who saw that none of the
adults in the village would step forward to defend the Bladewells. The family
kept the wagon moving, and ignored the insults, but then the bullies began
throwing clods of dirt, and other things. An over-ripe pepper splattered
against the wagon next to Koren, then a boy threw a large potato at Koren

s head. Quick as a flash,
Koren caught it out of the air, and drew his arm back to throw the potato, when
Bodric caught his arm.

Don

t waste good food, son.
You tuck that in the back of the wagon, and we

ll eat it tonight.

The wagon went around a
sharp turn in the road, rumbled up the cobblestones onto the bridge, and they left
the village of Crebb

s
Ford behind forever.

That first
night, camped beside the road, Koren had to admit his father was right, the
potato was good, and almost big enough to feed the whole family. For a moment,
in front of a crackling fire, camped out under the stars, Koren could almost
pretend he was on a fishing trip, and they would return home in the morning.

 

In the
morning, they did not return home, and Koren awoke with a back stiff from
sleeping on the ground beneath the wagon. His parents had spent the night in
the back of the wagon, using what little cushioning they had to comfort their
older bones. Koren got the morning fire started, and brought a pail of water to
his mother to boil for the breakfast oats.

I didn

t
notice it last evening,

Bodric declared,

but
I believe this land used to be an orchard. Koren, come with me, we

ll see if we can find some
plums.

The tangled,
overgrown trees indeed used to be an orchard, although it was hard to tell from
the road. Most of the trees were apple, with fruit not yet ripe enough to pick.
Plums, though, were to be found here and there, with most of that fruit already
laying rotting on the ground. Bodric kept a wary eye out for bears, for such an
abundance of fruit would surely draw animals to feast, and some trees bore
tell-tale claw marks. A bear, Bodric warned his son, was bad enough, but a bear
drunk on fermented fruit was a true danger!

Father and son
wrestled their way through the overgrown branches to find ripe plums that hadn

t fallen, and as always,
Koren somehow knew just where to find the best fruit. Soon Bodric stayed on the
ground while Koren handed plums down to him. For a moment, just a moment,
clambering around tree limbs, with warm morning sunlight filtering through the
leaves, the air scented with ripe plums, Koren could almost forget that they
would not be bringing the fruit home, that he wasn't picking from trees in
their own orchard.

BOOK: Ascendant
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