Ascent of the Unwanted (The Chronicle of Unfortunate Heroes Book 1) by Nathan T. Boyce Page A
Authors: Nathan T. Boyce
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long flowing red hair screamed directions peaking near hysteria.
“You have to fight it, Grover!” the Cavalier screamed. The trainee was lying on the ground, knees curled up to his chin. He slammed his fists rapidly into the sides of his head. Blood flowed freely from his nose. A wild look of terror screamed from his eyes. The young trainee’s eyes clouded over. A spasm whipped through the trainee’s body, his back arcing his feet to his head. A quick shudder and the young man’s body went limp.
“No!” The red haired Cavalier screamed grabbing at the body. Tears rolled down his face as he clutched the limp form in an anguished embrace. An impact hit the wall which separated the stable from the pen the colts ran through. The boards cracked where the collision occurred and the stable rocked with the force of the blow. Erik ran outside to see what hit the stable.
A colt lay motionless against the wall, burying its head awkwardly beneath its body. “Grover’s brother,” Istan said, standing behind Erik again. “The amount of terror it carried and the sudden loss of the union blinded him beyond comprehension. It ran full force into the wall.”
Erik staggered at the shock. It could have been him in the dead man’s place. Istan laid a comforting hand on Erik’s shoulder. “It happens occasionally. A mind too weak or unprepared succumbs to the potion. I warned you about the dangers of the training. I hope he was not one of Rovan’s five.”
Chapter 7
Hard Lessons
It was tough to sleep the first night. Erik woke frequently with his heart pounding and an urge to run. He had slept little by morning, and the sleep he did have was haunted by nightmares and images of horses running to their death.
The morning after the ritual dragged on miserably. Erik’s head felt like a sledgehammer had been taken to it. The lack of sleep made him tear up and his eyes burned whenever he yawned. He was hungry but nothing seemed appetizing. He sat quietly in the dining hall with his stomach gnawing into his back. He would be walking when his legs would decide to give out on him. He managed to catch himself most of the time but Lawt’s eye was blackened when he fell in the dining hall and caught the corner of a table.
After breakfast Gavin and Istan approached followed by a skinny man with dark shaggy hair, wearing a blue tunic and black cloak. “I wanted you to meet Phayden before we left,” Istan said. “He is our surgeon, the last of our party. He has not been with us because he was cleaning up our little mess back in Armeston.”
“It is good to finally meet you face to face. I have watched you so long it seems as if I already know you,” Phayden said with a smile. The man was one of the unfortunate few who looked better when they did not smile. His teeth, while white, ran in every direction but parallel and down.
“You were there? I don‘t remember seeing you.” Erik was still trying to hold down the shock of hearing Gavin and Istan were leaving.
“I would hope not. I don’t usually want to be seen. Of course, all three of us have been watching you since that dreadful night at the tavern.” Phayden said. “I must say Istan and Gavin have been beaming like proud fathers since I came in this morning.”
“Really? About what?” Erik asked.
“You know, I have been trying to figure that out myself. I have always found that new fathers are quite easily impressed with the day to day events that happen to their offspring.”
Erik could see Istan and Gavin becoming uncomfortable with the man’s jokes but Erik still warmed to the skinny man.
“So, you’re a surgeon?” He asked trying to change the subject.
“Well yes, but a different type of surgeon I imagine than you’re referring to. A Roh’Darharim Surgeon is a Roh’Darharim just like these two, but his specialty is not with the horses and combat. His strength lies in… Well I guess the best way you could put it is fixing things. We work best in
“You have to fight it, Grover!” the Cavalier screamed. The trainee was lying on the ground, knees curled up to his chin. He slammed his fists rapidly into the sides of his head. Blood flowed freely from his nose. A wild look of terror screamed from his eyes. The young trainee’s eyes clouded over. A spasm whipped through the trainee’s body, his back arcing his feet to his head. A quick shudder and the young man’s body went limp.
“No!” The red haired Cavalier screamed grabbing at the body. Tears rolled down his face as he clutched the limp form in an anguished embrace. An impact hit the wall which separated the stable from the pen the colts ran through. The boards cracked where the collision occurred and the stable rocked with the force of the blow. Erik ran outside to see what hit the stable.
A colt lay motionless against the wall, burying its head awkwardly beneath its body. “Grover’s brother,” Istan said, standing behind Erik again. “The amount of terror it carried and the sudden loss of the union blinded him beyond comprehension. It ran full force into the wall.”
Erik staggered at the shock. It could have been him in the dead man’s place. Istan laid a comforting hand on Erik’s shoulder. “It happens occasionally. A mind too weak or unprepared succumbs to the potion. I warned you about the dangers of the training. I hope he was not one of Rovan’s five.”
Chapter 7
Hard Lessons
It was tough to sleep the first night. Erik woke frequently with his heart pounding and an urge to run. He had slept little by morning, and the sleep he did have was haunted by nightmares and images of horses running to their death.
The morning after the ritual dragged on miserably. Erik’s head felt like a sledgehammer had been taken to it. The lack of sleep made him tear up and his eyes burned whenever he yawned. He was hungry but nothing seemed appetizing. He sat quietly in the dining hall with his stomach gnawing into his back. He would be walking when his legs would decide to give out on him. He managed to catch himself most of the time but Lawt’s eye was blackened when he fell in the dining hall and caught the corner of a table.
After breakfast Gavin and Istan approached followed by a skinny man with dark shaggy hair, wearing a blue tunic and black cloak. “I wanted you to meet Phayden before we left,” Istan said. “He is our surgeon, the last of our party. He has not been with us because he was cleaning up our little mess back in Armeston.”
“It is good to finally meet you face to face. I have watched you so long it seems as if I already know you,” Phayden said with a smile. The man was one of the unfortunate few who looked better when they did not smile. His teeth, while white, ran in every direction but parallel and down.
“You were there? I don‘t remember seeing you.” Erik was still trying to hold down the shock of hearing Gavin and Istan were leaving.
“I would hope not. I don’t usually want to be seen. Of course, all three of us have been watching you since that dreadful night at the tavern.” Phayden said. “I must say Istan and Gavin have been beaming like proud fathers since I came in this morning.”
“Really? About what?” Erik asked.
“You know, I have been trying to figure that out myself. I have always found that new fathers are quite easily impressed with the day to day events that happen to their offspring.”
Erik could see Istan and Gavin becoming uncomfortable with the man’s jokes but Erik still warmed to the skinny man.
“So, you’re a surgeon?” He asked trying to change the subject.
“Well yes, but a different type of surgeon I imagine than you’re referring to. A Roh’Darharim Surgeon is a Roh’Darharim just like these two, but his specialty is not with the horses and combat. His strength lies in… Well I guess the best way you could put it is fixing things. We work best in
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