Ascendant (2 page)

“
Protect us?
”
Bodric angrily squeezed
his wife
’
s
hand without realizing what he was doing.
“
From
our neighbors?
”
He asked, astonished. Like any small village or town, some people could be
petty or even mean-spirited, but Bodric had never known anyone to be violent,
unless they had too much of their home-made drink. And he couldn
’
t imagine so many of his
neighbors drinking that much so early in the morning.

“
Bodric, Amalie, people are
scared.
”
The
sheriff said quietly.

“
Scared?
”
It was Amalie
’
s turn to grip her husband
’
s hand tightly.

“
Scared enough to call for
a priest, or a wizard, to do something about Koren. The miller has people
terrified, he
’
s
been sitting in the Golden Trout every night, whipping people into a frenzy,
and Mistress Pettifogger has been helping him by providing free beer.
”
The sheriff made a
disgusted face, as much at the innkeeper
’
s
stupid behavior, as the poor quality of the inn
’
s beer.

“
Afraid of my boy?
”
Amalie gasped

“
Superstitious idiots.
”
Bodric grumbled.

“
Idiots they may be, but
there was talk of people coming up here with torches, and burning you out. They
want you to leave.
”

“
Leave?
”
Amalie nervously twirled
around her finger the blue ribbon that tied back her dark hair.
“
Bodric's family has farmed
land around Crebb
’
s
Ford for three generations. And Koren is not dangerous! He's just a boy, barely
thirteen. I
’
ll
certainly not have the likes of Pricella Pettifogger," Amalie waggled her
finger toward the kitchen window, "chase me away from my home.
”

Pricella, wife
of the town
’
s
innkeeper, was a thin, unpleasant woman, who always had a disapproving look on
her face, like she smelled something bad, and it must be
you
. The only
time people ever saw Pricella smile was when she was trying to curry favor with
the Baron or his family. Some people said that avoiding Pricella is why the
Baron never visited Crebb
’
s
Ford anymore. Not that the Baron ever spent much time in such a small, poor
village, the Baron being busy doing important Baron things, like ruling all of Crickdon
county. As long as the people of Crebb
’
s
Ford paid their taxes when the Baron
’
s
sheriff came to collect at harvest time, the Baron could not have cared less
what his subjects did in the tiny, poor village of Crebb
’
s Ford. The only time the
Baron passed through Crebb
’
s
Ford these days was in his four-horse carriage, on his way to visit the Duke.
And the Baron would likely have avoided Crebb
’
s Ford entirely, if not for the fact that the
bridge in the village was the only way across the river for twenty five miles
in either direction. Older folk in the village joked that they could remember
when the Baron
’
s
carriage was pulled by only two horses, before the Baron grew so fat! Such
things were not, of course, ever said outside of one
’
s own home, the Baron
being very vain about his appearance.

It was the Baron
’
s total lack of interest
in the goings-on of the inhabitants of Crebb
’
s Ford that left Tom Pettifogger, owner of
the Golden Trout Inn and the wealthiest man among the poor people of Crebb
’
s Ford, the leader of the
village. And since Tom had no interest in acting as mayor, and more than
anything wanted to keep his wife busy so she would not have time to nag him to
death, Pricella was left in charge of the day-to-day goings-on around Crebbs
Ford.

The source of
the Pettifogger
’
s
dispute with the Bladewells happened back around Koren
’
s eighth birthday, when
his father brought him into the common room of the Golden Trout, after they had
sold a cow for what Bodric felt was a more than fair price. Bodric was in a
very jolly mood, so he had decided to celebrate with a cold mug of beer in the
common room of the Golden Trout. Koren was sitting with his father while Bodric
sipped beer, told stories, laughed, and discussed the weather with other
farmers, when Koren decided he wanted to try this 'beer' that all the men were
so eager to drink. His father had gotten up from the table, to play a game of
darts, and left his half-full mug of beer behind. No one was watching Koren, in
the dark corner of the common room. One sip, that
’
s all, just one little sip, he told himself.
But the stoneware mug was heavy, and at first he didn
’
t tilt it enough to make
the beer close enough to sip. Then he tipped it too far, and got a mouthful.

Just at the
moment Koren
’
s
eyes flew open wide in surprise and he choked on the bitter brew, the giant
wooden vat in the back room of the Golden Trout burst open, and two hundred
gallons of what Tom Pettifogger claimed was the best beer in Crickdon county
came crashing through the door into the common room, washing away tables,
chairs and customers alike. Now, whether Tom Pettifogger
’
s beer was the best brew
in the county as he claimed, or, as some of his customers grumbled, was stale
swill not fit for horses to drink, was in dispute. Not in dispute was Tom and
Pricella
’
s
shock and anger, and also not in dispute, as far as the Pettifoggers were
concerned, was who was to blame: Koren.

The Great Beer
Flood wasn
’
t
the first time that Koren had been present during an unfortunate incident in
Crebb
’
s Ford.
In fact, Koren had a reputation as-

A
jinx
.

There is no
nice way to say it. Koren was considered to be a jinx. A
bad
-luck charm.
Strange things simply seemed to happen when Koren was around. Bad things,
unfortunate things. Not that anyone ever saw Koren actually
do
anything
to make bad things happen, they simply happened. And always when young Koren
was involved.

The first
couple times bad things happened around Koren, people laughed and said Bodric
needed to be careful about that boy. But when the blacksmith
’
s forge roared into a fire
so hot it caused a white-hot pillar of flame to shoot up through the roof of
the shed, at the exact moment young Koren yelped from burning his hand on a hot
poker, people began not so much to talk, as to grumble. Began to mutter under
their breath, to give Koren odd, unfriendly glances, and to wonder if, in fact,
Koren really was indeed a jinx. Even sensible adults began to wonder if Koren
was somehow cursed with bad luck.

So, when the
Pettifoggers loudly banished Bodric and his boy from their inn after the Great
Beer Flood, no one in the village stood up for the boy. No one could say for
sure that Koren wasn
’
t
a jinx, now, could they? When Pricella tried to make Bodric pay for the
damages, well, people said she had gone a bit too far, and most townsfolk took
Bodric
’
s side
when he told Pricella exactly what he thought of her, the Golden Trout, and
their sour, flat beer. After all, what Bodric said was what pretty much
everyone in Crebb
’
s
Ford had wanted to say for years. Behind Pricella
’
s back, of course.

Relations
between the Bladewells and the other families in Crebb
’
s Ford were strained for
years after that, with half the townsfolk saying Koren was a menace, half
saying there was no such thing as a jinx, and half saying, well, there might be
something to this talk about a jinx. There were
three
halves because
some people changed their minds about Koren, depending on the day, or the
weather, or what they ate for breakfast. Truth was, most people in Crebb
’
s Ford, and all of Crickdon
county, were poor farmers, scraping out a living on land they rented from the
Baron, and could not afford bad things to strike them or their family. Life was
hard enough without a jinx making things worse. A lame horse, a broken plow, a
hailstorm wiping out a field of crops, almost anything could spell disaster for
a family already on the edge of poverty. And some people resented that the Bladewells
owned their land, and their home was one of the best pieces of farmland in the
entire county.

It was most
unfortunate, therefore, that Bodric took Koren with him to the grain mill, a
couple weeks before Koren
’
s
thirteenth birthday. That mill, along with the bridge across the river, were
the only reasons for the village of Crebb
’
s
Ford to exist. Although no one particularly liked the miller, and his boys were
bullies, the miller was grudgingly honest and his prices for grinding grain
were mostly fair, and the closest other mill was a full day
’
s journey along the river
to the west.

When they
arrived at the mill that fateful morning, Bodric left Koren to tend to the
wagon, and get water for their horse. Koren carefully put wooden blocks under
the wagon
’
s
wheels, unhitched the horse, and led the horse to the millrace stream to drink.
The miller
’
s
two boys, seeing a chance for a bit of mischief, crawled over to the wagon and
slipped the blocks from under the wheels. They were trying to hide in the tall
grass and keep from laughing out loud, when they noticed that the wagon was
rolling the wrong way. Rolling straight for their father
’
s mill!

What the
miller
’
s sons
should have done was to stop the wagon, but because they were cowardly bullies,
they lay still and hoped they could blame it on Koren.

When Koren saw
the wagon rolling toward the mill, he shouted in alarm, which caused the horse
to bolt away. Koren ran after the wagon as fast as his legs could carry him,
and grasped onto the tailgate, digging his heels into the dirt and trying to
pull the wagon to a halt. The wagon was far too heavy for the boy, it dragged
him with it as it rolled straight for the door of the mill. Koren swung his
legs up, planted his heels in the dirt road, closed his eyes and gave one
mighty heave with all his strength-

And the wagon
did
stop
, at the same moment that the great waterwheel of the mill also
stopped
,
causing the machinery inside the mill to break, shatter and fly around inside
the stone building. Bodric and the miller ran out of the mill, holding their
arms over their heads, and flung themselves flat on the ground, while the
waterwheel jerked back to life, sending more large pieces of machinery flying
about.

The miller
’
s boys ran up to their
father, blaming Koren for the wagon almost crashing into the mill, but the
miller did not care about any stupid wagon. His mill! His precious mill was
ruined! Ruined, and he might not have it fixed in time for the autumn harvest
that year! What a disaster for the miller, and for the farmers of Crebb
’
s Ford, who now had no
place to take their grain for grinding!

The miller was
sputtering with anger, pulling out tufts of his beard and yelling words that
Koren
’
s mother
had told him were
very bad
things to say. And saying bad things about
Koren, that it was all Koren
’
s
fault, that the boy was a jinx. Bodric shouted back that if the miller had
taken proper care of his clunky machinery, it would not have broken. Both men
were red-faced from shouting. They almost came to blows before Bodric told
Koren to catch the horse, hitch it to the wagon, they would be leaving. Good
riddance, said the miller, and don
’
t
come back, ever! The Bladewells could bring their grain to some other mill in
the future, he would not be grinding it for them, ever again!

The miller
went to the Golden Trout Inn that evening to drown his sorrows in a mug of
beer, and the more he drank, the louder and more angry he became. Something would
have to be done about that Koren Bladewell boy, something soon, he declared to
anyone who would listen. Among the farmers in the common room of the Golden
Trout that night, he found an agreeable audience. The news that the village
’
s only mill might not be
available to grind their grain, with crops planted and harvest time
approaching, spelled disaster for everyone in Crebb
’
s Ford, not just for the
miller. Koren was a menace, a danger to poor, honest, hard-working people who
could not afford any more bad luck in their lives. When Pricella Pettifogger
announced that it was time for action, not more talk, about Koren, no one spoke
against her. When Pricella spoke to the sheriff of Crickdon county, and
explained how much trouble Koren had caused, the sheriff knew his employer the
Baron would care about only two things. First, that tax payments from Crebbs
Ford might be reduced, or delayed, because there was no local mill to grind the
farmer's grain. And second, that Pricella Pettifogger was very upset and worked
up about the issue of Koren Bladewell, and that she was very likely to be
pestering the Baron until he did something about it. The problem with tax
payments was serious, for the Baron had to pay his taxes to the Duke, whether
the Baron had collected taxes from his subjects or not. But the sheriff
remembered the last time Pricella had pestered the Baron about something; the
woman had been so persistent, and so annoying, that the Baron had taken to
riding far out of his way to avoid going through Crebb's Ford, and had even
begun to dread reading his mail, lest he find yet another strident message from
Mistress Pettifogger. So the sheriff was not sure the Baron would care about
the taxes, as much as caring about keeping Pricella from pestering him again. What
the sheriff did know for certain was that the Baron expected his sheriff to
take care of problems in the county. Which is why the sheriff rode directly to
the Baron's castle, explained the problem, and suggested a solution. A solution
the Baron liked, liked very much indeed. The morning of Koren's thirteenth
birthday, the sheriff met a group of scared and angry people from the village
who were assembled at the Golden Trout, and led them to ride slowly up the lane
to the Bladewell
’
s
farm.