The Way of Sacrifice, page 1
The Way of Sacrifice
Book 1 of Weaves of Empire
Tony Corden
Copyright © 2021 by Tony Corden
Tony Corden owns the content in this book and reserves all his legal rights of ownership. ‘The Way of Sacrifice’ is published for your personal enjoyment (and, if he’s honest, so he can earn a living). He allows quotations in book reviews and social media posts. In fact, if they are positive reviews, he encourages their use (yay, free advertising). If you want to use it for some other purpose, then email him and get his written permission, if you don't then you may not reproduce or use it.
ISBN 978-1-922336-30-9 (E-book)
‘The Way of Sacrifice’ is fiction, i.e., IT ISN’T REAL. Tony isn’t writing about real people and doesn’t intend in any way to point the finger at anyone. If there is a similarity, then it’s unintentional and a coincidence. If for some reason you think the good guys are based on you, then be encouraged, you are smart, kind and brave. If you think the bad guys are somehow based on you, they aren’t, but Tony suggests you need help. Seriously, see a counsellor or turn yourself into the police.
Tony designed the cover using an image from Shutterstock.com and Photoshop. Vellum was used to prepare the e-book.
Published by Tony Corden in 2021
You can find out more at www.tonycorden.com or write to Tony at tony@tonycorden.com.
For all those forced to deal with situations outside their control, and for those forced to live with limitations or boundaries placed on them by others, by life, or simply the circumstances they find themselves in.
Acknowledgments
I struggle with both spelling and grammar. Even with the spelling and grammar checks turned on I keep making mistakes. Homonyms trip me up, as do commas. In particular I want to thank T and E for helping to edit this book. They are wonderful people who deserve all the credit when you can’t find an error. When you do, that is all me, not only for making it in the first place but also because I sometimes ignore what they suggest.
Contents
Part 1 - Potential
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Characters in ‘Potential’
Part 2 - Apprentice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Characters in ‘Apprentice’
Part 3 - Faulty
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Characters in ‘Faulty’
Appendix
Times
Money
Part 1 - Potential
Chapter 1
Bess wasn't sure what was the most discouraging, that she was worth less than a reliable milk cow or that her father thought he had come out best in the deal; Bess for one gold coin. In his defence, he didn’t have much choice; still, she thought he should have at least forgone the smile until she was out of sight. The Tarlonin Empire did not allow any users of magic to live outside its control. Even where Bess lived, deep in the highland wilderness at the far edge of the empire’s New Dominions, the magic-seekers would arrive every couple of years to test all children aged between twelve and sixteen. The magic-seekers kept records and anyone failing to submit for testing, if they were caught, was killed regardless of what the test showed.
Two years previously when Bess touched the Testing Orb, it had remained unchanged, a dark, but dull, sapphire blue. But this year, now almost sixteen, her touch had bathed everyone present in a pale blue light. Neither a captive nor a slave, Bess still had no choice but to leave with the magic-seeker. Her family was given a gold coin as recompense for losing their child. If she had been a boy they would have received two gold coins; this annoyed Bess as well, for she did more to help her family than either of her two brothers.
From testing to leaving her hamlet had taken all of an hour. Now, she sat at the back of a wagon, bouncing along a rough Highland track, wondering if her sleeping mat and left-behind belongings had already been packed away or sold so her brothers could have an alcove each in their small highland bothy.
At least her mother had shown some distress at her departure. She’d cried even as she said she believed this would be good for Bess. Indeed, if the rumours were true, Bess’ life now had infinitely better prospects than before. Instead of marriage, sometime in the next year to some hunter or farmer, followed by thirty more years of childbearing and hard work before an early death, she had the opportunity to become a mage. To be someone who manipulated the very fabric of the universe. She had the chance to make a name for herself, to have a meaningful life; albeit at the pleasure of the emperor and for the empire.
Her musing was interrupted by the magic-seeker who called from the front of the wagon, “Hey, girl, hop down and come sit up front, we've four eightdays together before we get to Freehold; might as well get to know one another.”
Bess jumped down from the wagon and moved to the front where she sat beside the older man. He welcomed her with a smile and said, “My name is Bartholomew, but everyone calls me Bat.”
“I'm Bess; it's not shortened, it's just the name of my Da’s favourite cow growing up.”
“Well now, named after a cow. That’s a first for me. Not a lot to live up to. I, on the other hand, was named after some famous warrior and never really had a chance to meet expectations. At least you have a chance.”
“True, but only if I have twins and become a wet nurse. Da had my life planned out, but all that’s changed now. What happens next?”
“I've thirty or so more hamlets to check; yours was the nineteenth on my route this year. After that, we head to Freehold where you’ll wait for the wagon to Whitecliffe. Once there, you’ll take one of the empire’s ships across the Great Southern Ocean to Tar Eylia, first city of the empire, and home to the Tarlonin Academy of Magic.”
“How many like me will you find this trip?”
“None probably, you're the first in five years. Most likely it'll be just us until we get to Freehold. Now, you don't have much, but I see you brought your bow, what do you say about running ahead and finding us a juicy rabbit or a pheasant for dinner? We won’t make the next village until tomorrow, and I've only cold rations for us unless you're able to add anything. There is a small stream maybe two leagues ahead; I'll be stopping there for the night.”
“Aren't you afraid I'll run away?”
“Nope, I’m just giving you the opportunity to run away, if you want it. If you don't, then I get a hot meal, and at least one of us wins.”
“Won't you get in trouble, and won't I be killed?”
“Me? In trouble? Not really, although I might be given a small fine. The empire knows how difficult my job is without a guard to help. You, on the other hand, will probably end up being hunted down and killed by the empire’s hounds; that is, if they catch you, which they always do. I just don't feel like watching you every moment of every day, for the next four eightdays.”
Bess jumped down, grabbed her bow and disappeared into the light forest beside the road. Bat kept driving. He hoped she made the right decision. He didn't know what that would be for Bess, so he let her make it. Bess though had already decided, she was going to take this opportunity and see what it brought. Three hours later Bat’s wagon trundled into a glade near the stream to find a fire already lit, two rabbits dressed and roasting with a selection of edible leaves and roots waiting for him.
Thirty days later, just after noon, a somewhat rounder Bat lounged on the wagon seat while Bess drove the wagon along the causeway toward Freehold. Bat said, “I best take over now Bess, the guards here know me and word will get around that I made you do all the work.”
“Honestly, that’s pretty close to the truth.”
“Maybe, but I’d rather keep that our secret.”
Bess handed the reins to Bat and said, “So, you said I’m to go straight to the Keep. I guess they've a place for me to stay while I wait for the wagon to Whitecliffe.”
“Yep, they have a guest chamber in the Keep. Usually, they use it for nobles who visit. They don't want to upset you though, just in case you become a noble, or worse, if you become a powerful mage. One of the Lord’s young sons also has potential; I expect you'll head toward the coast with him. I doubt there are more than one or two others. I'm usually last to arrive from those sent out, so I imagine you only have a day or two to wait, at most.”
“What if that’s all I have, potential? Will I be sent back?”
“Don't rightly know. Never had anyone come back one way or the other. I think you shou ld have a more positive attitude though. Magic, they say, has a lot to do with your will, so don't do anything to limit that.”
The town of Freehold was small, provincial, and backward according to visitors from Whitecliffe and other towns in the New Dominions. Bess, however, found it amazing for she had never seen a walled town or city before. The land around Freehold was good farming land and had been settled for many years.
Most of the trees had been removed, and there were what Bess considered large farms dotting the whole area. Each was owned and operated by a single family, and some were even large enough to employ servants. They were big enough though that most of their crops were destined for sale. Farms near where Bess had grown up often produced barely enough for the farmer’s family to live on, let alone extra. Bess was amazed that most people in the Keep didn't own a farm and could survive just by providing a service for other people.
Bat left the wagon outside the Lord’s Keep. He took the records, the Testing Orb, and Bess to the entrance where he was waved inside. He made his way to the Chamberlain’s office where they had to wait ten minutes before they could be seen. They could hear shouting coming from inside the room but couldn't make out what was being said.
The door opened abruptly, and a boy about Bess’ age stormed out followed by a soldier. After several moments, a thin, grey-haired man dressed in fine-clothing stepped out and said, “Ah, Bat! I thought you'd be back soon. You've the records? Good! From the looks of things, you've also brought a young hopeful. Bring her in, and we’ll get everything taken care of.”
“Aye, sir! This young lady is Bess, she’s from one of the highland hamlets near Stone Lake, her father’s name is Harold, and I gave him a gold piece.”
“Welcome, Bess. Those you meet in the empire will expect you to have two names. Do you have a preference? Traditionally, you'd be called either Bess Haroldsgil, Bess Stonelake, Bess Farmer or Bess Freeholder. You can choose one of those or something else that might set you apart. I'll let you think while I finalise some things with Bat.”
While Bess pondered, Bat and the chamberlain discussed records and payments. Finally, they finished and Bess said she’d like to be called Bess Highland or Bess Archer.
“Both are good, strong, names. I'd suggest Highland as that'll set you apart. There is a Great House in the empire called Highland and even a noble family of that name. Don’t tell anyone you picked it for yourself as many would think it presumptuous when they found out. Well, Bess Highland, welcome to Freehold. In a moment a maid will come and show you to your rooms.
“Besides yourself there will be four other young prospective mages sent to Whitecliffe this year, this is our biggest group yet. The others are all young men, or if truth be told, boys. Two are from here in Freehold and two from hamlets like your own. Now that Bat is back, all of you will leave in two days. Besides the usual wagon, I have just been informed that young Lordling Jeremy will be taking the Keep’s carriage, so you might even find a comfortable ride if we can get you some suitable clothes.
“I'll be just as comfortable in the wagon, sir. I don't have anything else and have no way of buying more clothes.”
“I'm sure you would, however, if you’re going to Tar Eylia from Freehold, we need to have you looking less like a street urchin, and more like a young lady. A few dresses will definitely help.”
He rang a bell and sent a messenger to get a maid. When the maid arrived, he said, “Bess, this is Sharna, she'll take you to the bathhouse and then to your room.”
Turning to the maid, he said, “Sharna, find a dress for her to wear for tonight’s dinner in the keep, and tell the seamstress I want two travelling dresses by Three-day morning.”
The young maid was probably around Bess’ age, and was very deferential as she led Bess to the bath-house. After the third, ‘This way, Miss.’ Bess said, “ I'm no lady yet, if ever. Please, just call me Bess.”
“I can't do that, Miss. They'll take my job if I was that disrespectful.”
“What’s disrespectful about calling me ‘Bess’?”
“When talking to those better than you, it's proper to give them honour, Miss.”
“Well, I don't think I'm better than you. I'm not sure I think I'm better than anyone. To be honest though, I don't think I'm less than anyone either.”
“Miss, some here will think they’re your betters, you be careful, some of them are not forgiving of those who dishonour them.”
“Thanks for the advice Sharna, I’ll be sure to take care.”
After what was probably the best bath of her life, Bess got dressed in the softest, and prettiest, clothes she had ever worn. Sharna led Bess to a room which not only had a bed but also a mirror and dresser; three things that Bess had never used. She stopped and gazed at her reflection. She had seen herself reflected in pond water and on the back of a cooking pot but never with such clarity. Her thick hair was dark brown and shone from the recent brushing Sharna had given it. Her face was slender and her nose straight, she had the olive skin of her parents and the dark brown eyes common among the highland tribes.
“You look right lovely, Miss. I best get the seamstress so she can measure you. Do you need anything else while I'm gone?”
“No thank you, Sharna. But please, where might I get some water to drink?”
“I’ll bring a jug, Miss. I won't be long. “
It was almost twenty minutes later when Sharna returned. With her were the seamstress and Bat. Bat was carrying her bow, her knife and her small bag of belongings. He said, “I wasn't sure if I'd see you again so I thought I'd best drop these off. You take care of yourself. I expect to hear great things of you in the future so be careful out there.”
Bess stepped forward and gave the old man a hug before thanking him and taking her belongings. The two had become friends on the journey and Bess was sadder to lose Bat’s companionship than she had been to leave home. He at least had treated her as an equal and not as chattel. After he left, the seamstress measured her, and together they chose some material for the dresses. The seamstress promised to have the clothes ready the following afternoon and left. Shana had brought a jug of water and a small bowl of fruit.
“There Miss, now is there anything else you need before tonight? The Chamberlain will meet you outside the eating hall just after dark. I’ll come and get you just before.”
Several hours later Sharna arrived and led Bess through the keep to the outside of the eating hall where the Chamberlain waited. He said, “Ah. There you are, Bess. People are still arriving. When we enter, I will bring you before Lord Freehold and introduce you. He won’t expect you to say anything but do try to nod and laugh at the right parts of his speech. If you aren’t sure when, then watch me out of the corner of your eye. Afterward, I’ll lead you to the table we’ve set aside for you young hopefuls. Any questions?”
“No sir, except what should I call you?”
“‘Chamberlain’ is fine, although some people use my name and say, ‘Chamberlain Simon’.”
“Thank you, Chamberlain.”
Everything went as the Chamberlain had said and Bess was thankful for his warning; she often had to check on his reaction. Rather than the four she expected, her table was occupied only by the two hamlet-raised boys who introduced themselves as John Peterson and Mark Freehold. After explaining that the two local boys always ate with their friends, John and Mark took turns trying to impress her with tales of their magical ability and martial prowess. Bess patently ignored their boasting and concentrated on the abundance of food.
