Ascension (Blight Book 1)

  Ascension

  Blight - Book 1

  Terry Schott

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright©2015 by Terry Schott

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to my first reader, Karen, who eagerly reads all my stuff not long after I write it. Thank you for always giving me your honest opinion, as well as such positive advice and constant encouragement.

  Tiffany Maxwell, thank you so much for your editing efforts. I cannot imagine working with me, yet you seem to do it with utmost grace, patience, and skill. I am so grateful that you are a part of this.

  Kerstin Campagna is truly the best web designer out there. She works magic getting the computer to do what I want, and always replies to my queries fast. Thanks Kerstin!

  A huge shout out to Shawn Inmon. Your advice, encouragement, and friendship have enriched my life. I am grateful that our paths have crossed.

  Thank you to Nadine and Mark for humouring me as I spend vast amounts of time creating stories and drinking coffee in the corner booth of their business.

  Thank you to all the readers out there who have somehow found me amidst the millions of self published e-books and given me a try. Thank you for spending your time and money to buy my stories. It is a thrill when I get a new email or message from each and every one of you, praising me for what I have written so far, and frantically asking me to write more.

  I hope you all enjoy this one.

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  The man in the black hooded cloak walked down the dark street and the young man followed in silence. He stopped and pointed at the alley ahead. "Here."

  "Okay." The boy walked past the man, his stride confident.

  "Wait." The man laid a hand on the dirty, torn material of the boy’s shirt. "Your bearing is too bold. That is a trait which must remain hidden and blossom over time."

  The young man nodded and hunched his shoulders, letting one arm dip lower than the other.

  "Better."

  He nodded and entered the alley. The man watched until he faded from sight.

  1

  The baker hesitated at the entrance to the alley. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his cloak tighter around him and stepped into the darkness.

  A short distance in, he stopped to lean against the wall and wait for his vision to adjust to the dim light.

  Be brave. This is necessary.

  He shivered as visions of beggars and thieves attacking him from the shadows entered his mind. He stood straight and pushed his shoulders back, touching the heavy oak cudgel hanging from his belt. "Come on. Let's get this over with." He pushed himself from the wall and started down the alley, leaving the protective light of the main street behind.

  He raised a perfumed scarf to cover his nose as the smell of filth threatened to overwhelm him. In his own district of the city, even the back alleys were kept clean to prevent vermin, disease, and vagabonds from gathering. A dark shape huddled against the wall. The baker slowed but did not stop.

  Too large.

  A few moments later, a loud clattering startled him. He fumbled for the cudgel, cursing as it became tangled in the folds of his cloak. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead as he jerked the weapon free and held it up in front of him, his breath ragged as he trained wide eyes on his attacker.

  A skinny white cat with mangy fur looked up at him.

  His laugh was shaky. "Just a cat." Or a large, ugly rat.

  "What are you doing here, sir?" A voice from nearby caused the baker to spin in surprise. A young man, sixteen or so by the look of him, sat with his back against the wall. Dirty, ill-fitting rags partially covered his chest and legs. The baker could see bruises and dirt on his exposed limbs. He was skinny with black, stringy hair.

  Perfect. The baker smiled and bent down. "I am here to offer help, lad."

  "To who?"

  "If you are interested in a warm meal and some clean clothes, then my offer is for you."

  The boy shook his head. "I don't think I can pay the price you'd be wanting for something like that, sir."

  "The price . . . oh no." He raised his hands. "I'm not interested in you that way."

  The boy coughed. "Everything has a price, and I have only my body to use as currency." He pushed himself further back against the wall. "Please. I'd rather lay here hungry and cold than do anything vile."

  The baker scowled. "I told you, boy, I'm not here for sex." He paused, took a deep breath, and smiled. "I was once a poor boy like you, but someone helped me. I would simply like to do the same." He sat down beside the boy and did his best to ignore the filth on the ground as it squished beneath him. "Every year, I go out and find a young boy on the streets."

  "What for?"

  "To give him a chance at a better life," the baker said. "I bring him to my home for food, a bath, and clothes."

  "Do you let him live with you?"

  "No, but I do invite him back once a week to eat and bathe."

  "A bath every week? Even lords and ladies don't go to such excess. That's the best way to catch pox or some other sickness. Everyone knows that."

  The baker chuckled. "That's not so, although most peasants believe as you do. The truth is quite the opposite. Cleanliness is next to godliness, boy."

  The young man let the matter drop with a shrug. "Why me?"

  "Luck"—the baker raised one hand and pointed farther into the alley—"mixed with a bit of cowardice on my part. You are the first suitable candidate that I encountered and I am loathe to venture deeper unless you decline my offer. What do you say? Are you interested in a warm meal and some clean clothes?"

  Looking off into the distance, the boy appeared to consider about the offer before nodding. "I would be grateful for your help."

  "Excellent." The baker stood and reached down to help him up. "In my part of the city, I am the baker. You may call me‘baker’or‘sir’. What is your name?"

  "Leo."

  "Well, Leo. Let's get out of here."

  Leo lowered his head and pulled at his ragged coverings as they entered the finer part of the city. "The law would beat me for being here."

  The baker held his hand and continued to walk purposefully forward. "Yes, but not for long. When you stink a little less and wear finer clothes you will be able to walk these streets freely."

  Leo shook his head. "I don't think so, sir. The law is shrewd when it comes to spotting things what don't belong."

  "That don't belong."

  "As you say, sir."

  "This is my house and bake shop." The baker nodded at a plain building up ahead. "Let's go around the back."

  They entered a narrow alley between buildings——this one clean and well lit——and stopped at a small door. The baker produced a key ring from his pocket and inserted a small iron key into the lock. "Wait here." He pointed at an empty box on the ground. "Remove your shoes and outer clothes and put them in there."

  "But . . . I don't have any clothes on under these rags."

  "Then keep your pants on but remove everything else. The goal is for you to be clean, not to make my house filthy."

  The baker entered the house and returned a few moments later with a towel over his shoulder
and a bucket filled with water. A young boy stepped out into the alley behind him. "This is my son."

  Leo smiled at the baker’s son. "It’s good to meet you."

  The baker's son looked blankly at Leo and said nothing.

  He seems odd. Maybe he's simple.

  "Wash the worst of the dirt off out here." The baker put the pail on the ground. "I have more water warming on the stove for a bath." He tapped his son on the shoulder and the boy held up a shiny red apple. "First the dirt." The baker pointed at the bucket. "Then a snack."

  Leo removed the long-handled scrub brush from the pail and began to wash himself. In a few minutes, he had scrubbed most of the grime from his scrawny frame.

  When he was finished, the baker raised the bucket and poured it over him to rinse off the soap. He handed Leo the towel and apple. "Dry yourself off, eat the apple, and come in when you are no longer dripping wet."

  Leo took a bite and grinned as sweetness filled his mouth. Chew slowly. But his mouth would not obey. He devoured the apple in four quick bites, core and all.

  "Come inside when you are dry." The baker led his son inside.

  Leo smiled as he towelled himself off.

  ***

  An hour later, Leo pushed away an empty plate and leaned back in his chair.

  "Do you want some more?" The baker held up a ladle filled with mashed potatoes.

  "Thank you, but no. I am truly filled to the bursting point."

  The baker chuckled. "It would be a terrible waste to throw it all back up."

  "Don't worry, I won't." Leo yawned.

  "You are tired. All I can offer you for a bed is the floor by the rear door, but it's better than sending you back to the alley. A safe place to sleep is part of the offering each week."

  "That will be perfect. I wish that there was some way to repay you."

  "Don't worry about that. Sometimes kindness is its own reward."

  Leo nodded and bowed his head. "You are a good man, sir. I will not forget this."

  "Good. Maybe someday you will be successful and able to help others in a similar manner."

  Leo could not imagine ever being able to help himself, let alone others, but he nodded and looked down at his lap.

  "Before you go to sleep, there is one more thing."

  Leo looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

  The baker held a shiny silver coin in his hand. "This is for you." He dropped it into Leo's palm.

  The boy’s hand shook and tears welled up in his eyes. This is more money than I have possessed in my entire life. I can buy food for a week with this. "I cannot repay this."

  "I do not expect you to. I do, however, expect you to spend it wisely."

  "I promise that I will." Leo held the coin reverently, examining it before tucking it into the waist of his new pants.

  "Good." The baker stood and patted Leo on the back. "I must begin baking for this day's business. When you wake up, feel free to sneak out the back door quietly. You may return here in one week's time. Come at midnight, and knock on the back door. I will be expecting you."

  Leo nodded.

  "There is one more condition." The baker's expression was serious. "You must tell no one about our arrangement. If you do, the deal ends. Do you understand?"

  "Yes."

  "Off to sleep then." The baker nodded to his son. The boy turned and left the kitchen.

  "It was nice to meet you."

  The boy ignored him.

  Leo shuffled to the back door. This wood floor is softer than the wet stone of the alley.

  He lay down and was asleep in seconds.

  ***

  Leo woke to the sounds of pans clinking and the delicious aromas of bread baking. On the ground beside him sat a fresh roll. He considered saving it for later, but had no place to store it and so he leaned against the wall and began to eat.

  The baker came into the room, sweating as he scrambled to pull bread from the oven and place other trays of dough into the heat. He dumped the bread from the pans and began to sort them into baskets.

  "See you next week, Leo." The baker turned and walked towards the counter in the next room.

  Leo stood, taking another bite from his roll as he checked to make certain that the silver coin was still tucked securely into his pants.

  Stepping out into the morning sunlight, Leo popped the last piece of bread into his mouth as he began walking toward the main street. He rounded the corner with a full belly and a smile on his face. Quite suddenly, life had gone from being miserable to once again worth living. He was too preoccupied by good thoughts to be aware of his surroundings.

  "What's this, then?" a deep voice said as a strong hand gripped his hair and pulled him onto his tiptoes.

  A large man held him tightly. The man's neck and head were thick and muscular, his nose ugly and crooked. The dark grey cloak of a Keeper of the Law was draped over his massive shoulders.

  "Please, sir, I—"

  The Keeper cuffed him with a casual flick of his hand. The force of the blow brought tears to Leo's eyes. "Shut up, puke." Spit flew from the man's mouth and landed on Leo's cheek. "I know everyone in this neighbourhood, and you do not belong here." He gripped the boy's hair tighter. "You got clean clothes, but I know a guttersnipe when I see one." He shook the boy. "Who did you steal from?"

  "No one, I swear it. I—" The baker's warning stopped him from saying more. I'm not supposed to tell anyone.

  "Well, where were ya, then?"

  Leo remained silent.

  The Keeper growled and punched the boy in the back, driving him to the ground with a squeal of pain. He delivered two quick kicks to Leo's ribs, followed by two hard slaps to his face.

  Leo lay on the ground, his face on fire. He could taste blood and his ribs burned.

  The Keeper squatted down and leaned in close. "I'm in a good mood today, so I'm gonna let you go. But if I ever see you again, I will truly hurt you. Do you understand me, vermin?"

  Leo nodded.

  "Get up and leave before my good humour does."

  Leo scrambled to his feet, wincing at the pain in his side. He jogged away as quickly as he could.

  The Keeper watched Leo flee. When the young man had disappeared from view, he turned and looked up at the window.

  The baker's son looked down onto the street.

  The Keeper smiled at the boy, touched a knuckle to his eyebrow in salute, and walked away.

  2

  Leo bent down to examine his reflection in a small window, using his fingers to flatten a piece of windblown hair into place. He eyed himself critically and then walked around the corner to approach a vendor standing under a small awning. Three crates of vegetables and a small basket of bread rested behind his large, middle-aged frame.

  Leo raised a knuckle to his brow and nodded. "Hello, sir."

  "Young master." The man scanned Leo, his gaze stopping at the boy’s bare feet. He pressed his lips together. "Get away from me, beggar."

  Leo raised one hand. "I'm not a beggar. I have a business proposition for you if you will just hear me out—"

  The man produced a short, heavy club and raised it. "I will not let you distract me while your street rat friends rob me from behind. Get out of here."

  Leo took three steps back and withdrew the silver coin from his hand, cupping it against his chest so that it was visible only to the vendor. "I only wanted to conduct honest business, sir. If you want no part of easy profit, then good day to you." He tucked the coin into his pocket and turned away.

  "Wait."

  Leo kept walking.

  "I apologize, young master." The vendor's tone was polite. "I saw your bared feet and mistook you for a street waif. Please, come back and share your business proposition with me."

  Leo stopped and turned to face the man. Now that he knows I have money, he is just as likely to beat me on the head with that club and steal the coin. He eyed the club in the man's hand. "This is close enough for the moment."

  The
man frowned and looked down at the club. "Oh, right. Do not think less of me for protecting myself. Street selling can be dangerous business. Only a foolish man would be unarmed out here." He put the club away and pointed towards the baskets behind him. "What can I sell you today?"

  "I would like to buy your food."

  "That is obvious. Tell me what items you require and I will calculate the price."

  "All of it."

  The vendor smiled but quickly regained his calm expression. "I only caught a brief glimpse of your coin. If it has not been shaved it will perhaps be enough money to purchase everything I have for sale today behind me."

  Leo chuckled and waved at the food. "I'm not a fool. My coin is enough to buy three times the amount."

  "Ridiculous. You obviously don't know what you're talking abo—"

  "Fine." Leo turned to leave.

  "Wait!"

  "Good luck to you, my friend. I offered to make your day a short and profitable one, but you choose to sit out here and likely only sell half of what you display. I will come back tomorrow and offer you even less money for the stale wares you are stuck with."

  The vendor took a breath and then let it out. "Of course, you are right. I was only trying to barter for a better price, young master. Let us do this deal before the morning sun begins to wilt your fine food."

  Leo pretended to consider the vendor's words before turning and walking back towards the stand. "This isn't the first stall I have stopped at. Half a silver coin is too generous, but time is precious to me and I am willing to make that offer if you accept without any more bickering."

  The vendor opened his mouth to speak. "Uh-uh." Leo raised his eyebrows. "If your next words are anything other than 'we have a deal', I will leave."

  The vendor made a clucking sound with his tongue. "We have a deal, young man, but you rush this and take all of the fun out of the transaction."

  "I apologize. Perhaps when I return looking for a similar purchase a couple of days from now, we can barter more."

  The vendor arched one eyebrow. "How will you carry all of this food with you?"