The Bloodline Chronicles: Vol. I

Copyright 2013 Joe H. Sherman.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Illutrated by Sandra Burns

ISBN: 978-1-4669-9351-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-9350-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-9349-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013909274

Trafford rev. 06/07/2013

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CONTENTS

DESPAIR

WAKING UP DEAD

STRANGERS

A SAD STORY

PUA DAR

INTO THE CITY

THE FORE GATE

A STORY TO TELL

A FIGHT LOST

GETTING EVEN

THE AUCTION

INTRODUCTIONS

SUMMARIES

DESPAIR

T he bright-colored tapestries and plush red carpeting did nothing to add warmth to the corridor for Sahharras. It felt cold as the stone in which the tower of the magi was constructed. They depicted glory of great battles won and lands conquered. The irony of the battles depicted in the tapestries was lost on her. Nor could she take any pleasure or pride in them. Very few could and those who should never did either. She hated and despised what they depicted like most who came from those captured lands. To shake off the chill and repressive nature of the tower was next to impossible for her.

Sahharras sat in the hall waiting for the decision of the council of the magi regarding yesterday morning’s events. She did not know what would happen to her. She could lose her right to apprentice and forever be a common slave. Krotus could send her away and she would never see her boys again. She had become attached to the boys after taking care of them for six years. It was obvious they cared for her as well. She could not bear the thought of never being able to see them again.

Have they reached a decision yet? What is to happen? Sahharras asked with a quivering voice when she saw Krotus exit the council’s chambers. Krotus didn’t even spare her a glance as he stormed past her. For once, his face wasn’t an emotionless stone, but instead was a snarling thunderhead of pure anger and hatred.

Sahharras wept as she watched Krotus storm away. However, her fear was washed away as fear overcame her once she saw two guardsmen walking in her direction with their hands firmly grasping the hilts of their swords. The two guardsmen used their free hand to seize her by the arms. Then they proceeded to roughly drag her down the corridor without as much as a word to what they intended to do to her.

WAKING UP DEAD

I t was not the darkness that bothered Taurwin but the complete absence of light. His eyes could adjust to the darkness of the darkest of night, but here there was no light at all. Never before had he been blind as he was currently and it troubled him. Not that he was afraid of the dark, but it was a new experience for him. Therefore, it was something he couldn’t understand. The loss of sight was not half as bad as his loss of breath. The little air there was to breathe reeked of death and decay. Something cold pressed in on him from all directions, causing him to fight for every breath of the fouled air that made him want to wretch.

No matter how hard Taurwin tried, he could not recall where he was. What had happened to him? His thoughts seemed to melt away faster than he could form them. He tried to move his arms. Then he remembered he had tried that before, or was that his legs. He could not remember. Can I feel my arms? he thought to himself. Am I dead? No, I breathe, therefore I live, Taurwin reasoned. He realized if he did not figure something out soon, he might not be breathing either.

Sorram’s mind drifted like leaves caught in the wind. His mind drifted from one thought to the next without coherency. Images formed and evaporated before he could recognize them, let alone understand them. He felt he should have been able to remember names of people as visions of them appeared in his mind like a midsummer morning’s mist. To make matters worse, he couldn’t get his mind to work any better than the rest of his body would, which puzzled him even more. How long had he been and would be trapped in this lightless, foul, and fetid-smelling place?

Then Sorram heard a scratching noise that sounded very close. At first, he thought he had imagined it, but it came closer and closer. The closer the sound came, the clearer his mind became. Feeling started to return to his limbs as his breaths became easier. He still could not make sense of what had happened to him or what was making that strange noise. Soon he could wiggle his fingers and toes ever so slightly. Then something began to tug at his head. The tugging increased in strength. The sound of something tearing echoed through his ears and frightened him enough to make him gasp. To his surprise, the tugging stopped. The air still smelled of dirt and rotten flesh, but it was somehow fresher. He took a couple of deep cleansing breaths. Then the fog that had clouded his mind began to lift.

Sorram could now remember; Krotus gave him and his brother the instructions for their last test. The instructions were simple: survive and you pass. Then a heavy black canvas sack was tied around his head. Then he was led off somewhere. Once there, something else was placed around his neck and his hands were tied behind his back. He was told to stand there and wait for the test to begin. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of falling and then pain. Soon after that, the darkness had overtaken him.

With some effort, he was able to move his head. He tried to sit up, but there was something weighing him down. He was still too weak to overcome it. As he continued to breathe the fresher air, he could feel his strength returning rapidly. After a little time and effort, he was able to sit up. It was then he realized that he still had the black canvas sack over his head and his hands tied behind his back. He had been taught how to free himself of all types of bonds and set to work on the ropes that held his arms immediately. After freeing himself of his bonds, he removed the sack from his head. He found himself sitting in a hole in the ground, which made no sense at all. He could not understand for what purpose he had been buried in dirt. What kind of stupid test was this, and what was it to prove? For that matter, what was he supposed to do now? If his brother were here, he would know what had happened. His brother would know what to do next. It was obvious that he should find his brother. Then he would ask him what they were supposed to do next. How hard could it be to find him? After all, he had the same test. His brother should be in a hole somewhere nearby just as he had been.

Taurwin knew that his situation had changed, but he didn’t know how or why it had changed. His thoughts still would not form properly, but he felt as if a great burden had been taken off his chest. He still had nearly as much difficulty getting his breath despite the fact that he felt less constricted. As he struggled to catch his breath, his mind finally began to clear little by little. As his mind began to clear, feeling in his limbs began to return as well. Ever so slowly, the cold and numbness subsided, but it was replaced by soreness. Then soreness grew into pain, which caused him to moan and whimper in his agony.

Sorram couldn’t see the moon or any stars in the dark night sky. Therefore, he knew clouds must blanket the sky. It made him worry about rain even if he could not smell it in the cool night air. He never did like being in the rain. Then he wondered if it was too cold for rain. He liked to play in snow, but snow would make it harder to find his brother. If it snowed enough to cover the ground, it would be nearly impossible to find where his brother was buried. He knew the clouds’ added darkness to the night would give him concealment from other eyes, though. There had been more than one test that had required concealment, and this could be another. He was confident if there were anyone looking for him, he would be safe at least until dawn.

A thorough search of the immediate area only produced two sets of fresh tracks. The first set of tracks was of some sort of small animal. Sorram figured these tracks belonged to the animal that gratefully had begun digging him up and unintentionally saved him. That was going to be one part of his story he would not tell his brother. The other set of tracks belonged to men, probably those of the men who had buried him. It was the tracks of the men that he decided to follow. He reasoned if these men buried both him and his brother, then the tracks would lead him straight to his brother. It seemed almost too simple, so he set off cautiously, being careful not to make any noise. He didn’t make it very far before he heard what appeared to be muffled moaning and whimpering. This confused him because the sounds were coming from the same direction he had just come from. He was torn between the desire to continue his search for his brother and the desire to investigate the muffled sounds. Like always, his curiosity won and he headed back to search out the cause of the mysterious noises. Sorram was surprised to find the muffled sounds were coming from the very hole in the ground he had escaped. He knelt down while he studied the hole. He didn’t see anything but dirt. There had to be something buried there making the noise and that awful smell as well. It didn’t sound or smell like his brother, but there was only one way to find out.

Using his hands, he quickly removed more of the loose soil from where he had escaped earlier. The more dirt he removed, the louder the moaning became. It didn’t take him long before his hands found some sort of fabric. The fabric looked worn and tattered unlike the sturdy woolens he and his brother were normally issued. As he dug, he realized the fabric was the clothing on a corpse. He continued to dig around the corpse despite the foul smell. After some time, he was able to remove the corpse from the hole. What he found underneath was what was making all the noise.

Taurwin’s pains let him know he was alive, but he still felt too weak to move. He still couldn’t see, but at least now, he could hear something. The problem was that he had no idea what it was. However, it was getting closer. His strength returned to him in what felt like a flood with the return of fresher, cleaner air. He sat up and tried to look around but still couldn’t see. Then he remembered what had happened. Before he could do anything else, the canvas bag that was over his head was torn open. The first thing he saw was his brother, Sorram. Where are we? Did we pass? What’s got you grin’n like a Cheshire cat? Taurwin asked with a frown.

STRANGERS

I t had been less than a week since Jerhod’s family had left their farm and he already wished they could go back. It wasn’t as if it was the first time he had been away from the farm, but this time it was different. He was old enough to be allowed to spend a day or two hunting in the forest near their home if there was little to do at the farm and all of his chores were caught up. Obviously, he wasn’t allowed to go off on his own during the spring planting or during the fall harvest, but he had spent many midsummer nights sleeping under the stars. This time it wasn’t any fun, though. This time he suspected they would never be able to return home.

His family had been evicted because they didn’t have the coin required to pay their taxes. He understood that much, but how could their taxes have been so much in the first place? Nor could he understand why the tax collector believed his father should have the kind of coin he had demanded of them. They seldom went hungry at the farm, but it didn’t produce a lot of gold coin either. It seemed to him most of their produce was traded to the pack peddlers for the things they couldn’t grow or hunt on their own. Very seldom did he see his father have enough to trade, which actually fetched any coin in trade whether it was gold, silver, or copper. Of course, the tax collector scoffed at his father’s suggestion of accepting payment in chickens, wheat, or anything else they had for that matter. Therefore, his parents had done the only thing they could do. They sold everything they could. Then they packed everything they could carry on their backs and left the rest at the farm. They left the only home he had ever known in search of a new life.

Jerhod had walked south for days with his family covering as much ground as they could while they carried their few remaining possessions across their backs. To his surprise, they had come across several families on the road with similar stories. All were headed to the city to look for work and a fresh start. There were now roughly a dozen families traveling together. They had decided to travel and camp together, for sometimes there is safety in numbers, but food had become somewhat of a concern. Each family had hunted or set snares at night to supplement their food stores during their journey. With so many people gathered together, game had become scarce for the simple fact that game avoided people. A couple of days of poor hunting had food stores low enough to cause worry. He was old enough to know they would need those stores to sustain them until work could be found in the city. He also knew the closer they came to a city, the more scarce game would become. He suspected this was the real reason they were still camped in the small woods instead of packed up and headed down the road.

The woods had mature hardwoods and a fair amount of ground cover that should have supported a cornucopia of small game. He had hoped the snares he had set last night would have produced more than they had so far. The thick underbrush in this small section of the forest should have been teeming with small game, but so far, all he had was one scrawny rabbit. He suspected his luck was not about to change any time soon. He had his sling at the ready just in case he saw something, hell, anything that had meat on it for that matter. So far, all he had seen was a couple of ferry diddles. He didn’t even bother with those because they would have been less than a mouthful. He was starting to wonder if he would regret that decision. He was already reconsidering and thought he might have to add them to the menu out of desperation. Even the birds have seemed to abandon the forest with their arrival. Maybe someone else from camp was having better luck than he was, hopefully.

A foul stench caused Jerhod to glance around in an attempt to identify the fetid source. The smell told him there was something dead nearby. He had no desire to interrupt a large predator that may have seized the opportunity to scavenge a free meal. He knew most predatory animals were not above doing a little scavenging if the opportunity presented itself. He didn’t see anything, so he decided to return his attention to the snare before him. It had been set off, but apparently, it had missed its mark. With one hare in hand and only one snare left to check, he proceeded to chastise himself for not being more careful how he had set the snare the previous night. None of the people back at camp could afford his simpleton mistakes. He had to…

What are you doing? Sorram finally asked when he could take it no longer. Sorram had been following the boy for some time. He crept closer and closer despite his brother’s warnings about curiosity killing the cat. This was as close as he would get undetected. Sorram was sure he hadn’t made any noise, but the boy had begun to look around as if the boy could sense he was being followed. Judging by the manner the boy had carefully picked his way across the forest, Sorram believed the boy to be hunting or maybe even trying to stalk up on something. Something or someone, but Sorram had no idea which it was. Nor could Sorram figure out what kind of weapon the boy planned to use. The boy didn’t carry a bow or spear, but he did carry a small belt knife. Sorram disregarded it as an effective weapon in which to hunt with though. The boy wasn’t quite enough too close in to kill with it unless it could be a throwing knife. The knife didn’t look to have the right balance or the required weight to be a very effective throwing weapon, though. He knew he could be wrong but he doubted it. The boy would stop to examine some looped cordage tied to a small sapling from time to time. More cord ran from the tree to a notched peg that mated to another notched peg, which was driven into the ground. This line seemed to hold the sapling bent over the ground. Then there was one more cord that ran from the notched peg, over the first looped cord, to the other side of the loop, to another peg driven into the ground. Sorram had no idea the purpose of the contraption. Then there was the question of why the boy spent so much time trying to conceal it with a bit of leaf and such.

Jerhod nearly jumped out of his skin. Then realized that is exactly what he would have done if it were possible. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself after he had spun around to identify who had spoken to him. It wasn’t difficult for Jerhod to locate the one who had spoken. There was a stranger squatting in the middle of the game trail examining one of his snares. He had a small deer draped over one shoulder and a wooden spear leaning against the other. His clothing was muddy and stained but didn’t appear to have any holes, tears, or patches holding them together. He had a hood pulled over his head so Jerhod couldn’t make out any features of the stranger’s face, even after he had turned toward him. All he could see were dark shadows under the stranger’s hood.

Jerhod realized the stranger was staring at him but not at his face. He looked down to see what had captured the stranger’s gaze. Soon as Jerhod had glanced down, he realized he held the hilt of his belt knife in a death grip. He jerked his hand away as if it were on fire and held it up in a pacifying gesture. My apologies, m’lord, I didn’t… , Jerhod tried to apologize but a full belly laugh from some thick brush further down the trail interrupted him.

I don’t see why you find that so funny, brother. If he calls me a lord, what does that make you? Yeah, that would make you one too, the stranger shouted as he turned and threw back the hood of his cloak to the laughing tormentor that remained hidden behind a small thicket.

Jerhod grinned as he took a second look at the stranger. The stranger appeared younger and perhaps a little shorter than himself. The hood wasn’t part of a cloak as he originally thought, but instead attached to some sort of robe like one he had heard a mage might wear. Not that he had ever seen a real mage before, but he had heard all sorts of wild stories. The stories always described richly embroidered flowing robes, though, not filthy stained ones.

Don’t call us lords! was the answer from the newcomer as he angrily leaped from the thicket, which had concealed him.

Judging by the look on his face and the way he pointed his spear, not to mention his rough growly sounding voice, Jerhod believed he had angered both the stranger and his brother. He had never heard of anyone being insulted by being called a lord before now. Then he remembered how he felt about the lord who had caused his own family’s plight and everyone else in the province. He realized he wouldn’t be proud of being called a lord anymore either. I’m sorry. I meant no offense. Really, I didn’t, Jerhod tried to apologize. Let me start over, my name is Jerhod. What are your names? he asked as he extended his hand and took a couple of steps toward them. To his surprise, the stranger backed away from his approach sheepishly. The stranger appeared nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He thought the stranger would bolt if he tried to come any closer. Jerhod decided that he needed to see if he could trade something, anything, for that deer. He couldn’t afford to frighten the strange boy away. He had to think of something quick. It’s called a snare, Jerhod answered as he turned his attention back to the snare he had been trying to conceal with fallen leaves and grasses before the boy’s appearance.

What is its purpose though? the boy asked as he crept closer in an attempt to see what Jerhod was doing. His brother had warned him about his curiosity, but he wanted to know the answer, besides the boy didn’t appear very dangerous.

To catch small game like rabbits, squirrels, and such, Jerhod answered without turning toward the boy. He could tell the boy was closer by the sound of his voice but he never heard him make a noise as he approached.

Does it work? the boy asked as he continued to edge a little closer.

Well, sometimes, sometimes not, but you can be elsewhere and still hunt here at the same time. Come here and I will show you how it works, Jerhod answered as he carefully stepped across the snare so the other boy could have a better look. Then he waited but he didn’t look up at the boy yet. He couldn’t hear the boy as he slowly crept closer. At that distance, he should have heard every footfall. Jerhod figured the boy must be an expert at stalking game. He didn’t understand how the boy could be a master at that woodcraft and yet not know what a snare was or what its use was. Then he noticed that foul smell had returned and it was much stronger than it had been previously. By the time the boy squat down beside him, the smell of decay was so strong Jerhod wanted to gag. This is the trigger, Jerhod said as he pointed to the cord that ran across the looped cord. He tried to breathe through his mouth but the smell was so strong he could almost taste it. He turned his head to look at the boy and realized the boy was looking at him instead of the snare. When game happens down this trail, it hits this line and it triggers the trap. Now watch closely how it works, Jerhod continued as he put his hand down to set off the snare but it didn’t work. The loop closed on his wrist but that was all. It was supposed to give a little jerk. Well, at least jerk hard enough to lift a rabbit or squirrel into the air out of reach of other predators.

Is that dangerous? asked the strange boy as he cocked his head to study Jerhod and the bizarre contraption.

Not really. It is only meant to lift small game high enough to be out of reach of predators, Jerhod replied. When he looked at the boy, he saw the cause for the snare’s failure. The boy had caught the cord that went from the trigger to the tree in his hand and held it. You have pretty quick hands to have caught that. As you can see, the pull isn’t that strong. I wasn’t in any danger but thanks anyway, he explained with a grin.

But does it work? the boy asked again with the sound of doubt thick in the air.

Sometimes, sometimes not, but that is how I caught this rabbit, Jerhod grinned as he held his only catch of the day out as if it were a trophy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as the boy looked at him in open amazement.

You must be a master woodsman to be able to do this. Will… could you teach us about your woodcraft? the boy asked in a tone that sounded a plea.

I can show you what I know, but I think you might be a little disappointed, Jerhod answered while trying not to burst out laughing. To be honest, I am not anywhere near a master of anything, let alone woodsman or hunter, he tried to explain with a grin.

Fine! You can keep your secrets, but you don’t have to laugh at us while you selfishly withhold your knowledge, the boy snarled as he backed away. He paused long enough to scoop the small deer up and throw it over his shoulder. Never once did he take his eyes off Jerhod.

Hey, wait a minute, I’m not lying. Look you’re the one with the deer. All I have is this scrawny rabbit. Maybe I should be asking you to teach me something, Jerhod shot back as he struggled to control his temper. After all, the boy had all but called him a liar. Jerhod watched the boy look at the rabbit, then to the deer, and back again several times as if he couldn’t decide which took more skill.

I don’t know if I can teach how we hunt, but maybe we could trade the deer for something if you would like to have it, the boy stated as he finally came to some sort of conclusion.

Well, I don’t have much to trade. I’m afraid I don’t have any coin. I will be glad to show you all that I know about snares, but I don’t know how much meat that would be worth in trade to be honest. Is there anything else you might need? Jerhod answered. He thought the deer could produce enough meat to feed everyone back at camp for several days especially if anyone found some wild tubers to go with it. Soups and stews always stretched out your meat supply, his mother would say.

Well, we could use some soap, the boy answered after a moment of thought as he rubbed his chin. He had to admit that it was more than a small understatement. The smell of him and his brother had made hunting rather tricky.

And some clean clothes, yelled the other boy from his hiding place in the thicket.

Jerhod thought the boy in the thicket still sounded angry. The boy’s voice sounded more like a growl than words, which made him hard to understand. So that’s what that smell was. Is there a funny story that came with it? If there isn’t, there should be, Jerhod teased while trying not to burst out laughing. The boy just looked at him as if confused. No matter, I’m sure I can get some soap back at camp, but I still don’t know your names, he added, but the first boy just looked back to the thicket where the other boy remained hidden. If you come with me to where my family is camped, I might be able to get someone to wash your clothes while you bathe in the river, he added. The boy appeared to be listening to someone else that Jerhod couldn’t hear. Finally, the boy shook his head in agreement, but Jerhod had no idea who the boy was agreeing with.

My name is Sorram. That is my brother, Taurwin, in the brush. He agrees that we should go with you to your camp, Sorram said nervously. It would be a wonderful thing if this boy could produce either the soap or the clean clothes, but he was still hesitant. He couldn’t help but wonder where the boy had come from or if someone had sent him. This could still be part of the test.

It’s nice to meet you, Sorram, Jerhod said as he held out his hand once again. He watched as the boy let the deer slide off his shoulder to the ground so he could carry the spear in the other hand. To Jerhod’s surprise, the boy stepped forward nervously with his hand held out awkwardly. The boy glanced back to the thicket several