Undying Blood - Beta - Chapter 02 (Patreon)

The sound of the morning bell rang earlier than usual, and the sun barely showed above the mountains, far to the east. The light wasn't even streaming into their open window as each boy heard the call to pain and training for another day.

"It's earlier than usual," Michael said as he sat up, their room still mostly shadows from the lack of light. "What gives?"

"He's an asshole. Does the man need a reason to make us hate him more?"

Both of them laughed as they grabbed their dust-covered clothes. It was two more days before they would be washed, and the outfit could almost stand on its own. Blood, dirt, and sweat caked together sometimes appeared to be what kept the fabric from falling apart.

"No... he doesn't, but still I’m just hoping this isn't another day of nonstop running. My boots can't take the beating."

Glancing at their leather boots, Francis saw his brother was right.  The seams were tearing apart, and getting another pair wouldn't happen before they shipped out.  Acquiring anything new was almost impossible.  

Joys of being barely above a slave…

The promise of real armor and a weapon is more than most of us could ever hope for... This is why we stay... why we torture ourselves like this. 

That and any town we show up in without a good reason or money would find us in a worse position.

***

"Good news!” Phillip exclaimed, smirking at them all. “I was just told we'll be moving out in two days! Five days earlier than expected!"

Some murmurs came from the line of seventeen teens.  Two more had vanished in the last week.  Running away and choosing not to fight.  No one chased them or went after them. Everyone knew what it meant. 

A quick death on the battlefield was a gift compared to what they would experience when they were captured.

Luke... you asshole... I pray you find a farmer that will let you work...

They all stood in a line, chests out, ready for whatever today would bring. Two days wasn't much time to prepare, and from the way Phillip was standing, anything was possible.

"As such, we will be leaving today! The town of Macenburg is three hours away.  You’ll run there and get measured for your armor! Don't expect some custom engraved piece of work. You'll get the basic leather, designed to keep the enemy from gutting you with their breath, nothing more!"

Their dictator of pain began to move along the line, locking eyes with each of them as he passed by.

"You'll be put up in a tent there, fed real food, and allowed to rest. I suggest you make do with that. Or… perhaps you can enjoy something else."

Suddenly, a tiny pouch was in his hand.

"In here is five silver. Each of you will receive the same amount.  Spend it on some drink, buy something nice, possibly find a woman willing to spend some time with your ugly faces, but know that when the bell sounds in two days, any of you who are not ready to leave will find yourselves on the list."

Many of the boys started to bounce on the balls of their feet, excited at the chance to enjoy everything they had just heard.

A real inn… I can’t remember the last time I drank ale that wasn’t more water than ale.

"I do not want to remind you of what the last one on the list endured," Phillip stated, his misshapen teeth making his smirk look even worse. "Or perhaps I should.  Who wants to have each of their fingers and toes cut off, set on a stump for the birds to pick while you're tied up and forced to watch them fight over them? Or perhaps when they cut off your hands and feet? Even worse... your manhood."

Phillip tossed his head back and started to laugh, cackling for a moment as he walked back down the line.

"Who are we kidding? None of you have a manhood worth the early bird getting up for. Now then!"

With a clap of his hands, everyone shifted into the perfect position, standing tall, chests out, feet together, and eyes facing ahead.

"Let's make this fun.  The last one to Macenburg only gets three silver! The first gets two more! Now go!"

Francis moved the moment he heard go.

Everyone did.  To wait meant giving up precious time, which might cost them a fortune.

Still, even three silver coins are enough for food or something nice…

Lost in his thoughts, he missed the foot that came out, entangling his legs and sending him to the ground.

Smacking the hard-packed dirt with his hands and chest, Francis looked up and saw the oldest sheet stain, Malcomb, had just tripped him.

I swear... one day, I'll kick his ass!

Knowing that wasn't true, he got up, not bothering to dust himself as he ran, last in a line of teen boys that all wanted every silver they could earn.

***

Phillip had lied about the journey being three hours. The only way that could happen was by cart. Only once had they been allowed to ride in one, and that was when they arrived at this hellhole of a training camp. Set off in the woods, down a trade road, the winding dirt snake they had to travel was in good condition. It was far enough away to make running away a pain, yet close enough that supplies could be brought as needed.

However, unlike most of his competition, Francis turned to the woods, knowing how the road twisted and turned through the forest.

I should thank Malcomb for making me last. That way, I won't have to worry about anyone following me.

Even Michael had run off with the pack, trusting his longer stride and higher endurance to help him arrive with the main group and not have to worry about being last.

These woods, however, were where Francis had spent so much time as a child and teenager. He learned to track on his own, setting small snares that sometimes netted him a rabbit or other small animal. The food was always a treat, and the family cook had worked out a deal that for every three he brought the man, one would be prepared for him.  

It seemed like a terrible deal for most, but the truth was the cook risked getting into trouble for making food just for him. His older three brothers got everything, and his sister... well, she was the youngest and the only girl and as such, got everything else.

She’s still the strongest mage our family has ever produced, and she’s barely thirteen…  

Four children out of ten received schooling, private tutors, magic lessons, and weapon training.  The next two received an education designed to help oversee and work the family mines.  Even his sixth brother, Ivan, got training after showing talent with metal as a child.  So he was allowed to work in the family forges and earn a living, testing and crafting the family materials.

He, Michael, and his late brother, Brennor, got nothing.  Anything they had came from earning it by whatever means they could.  All clothes had been hand-me-downs.  Occasionally, their mother would give them something small on a birthday, often just a few coppers, not wanting to earn the anger of a father who probably wouldn't recognize or know their name.

Such a heartless bastard... One day... One day, I'll prove to you how wrong you were...

A root almost tripped him, and Francis stopped thinking about the past.  He couldn't focus on how his brother had died and needed to focus on the moment.

Large trees with nuts that could fatten animals or livestock filled this section of the woods.  The sound of their shell being crushed under his worn boots alerted everything to his presence. He knew in a few miles, they would give way to the taller and hardwood trees that often got used for lumber.  One boy in his pack came from a family that managed trees, and for a while, they had discussed the different ones.

With the sun up, predators shouldn't be a problem, but Francis still grabbed a good-sized stick when one revealed itself. He was willing to carry the weight and occasionally use it as he slashed through the brush, ignoring the thorns that tore at him and his clothes.

I need to make it to the stream. That's the main thing. Once I do, I'll be set.

Like a map in his mind, he could see the direction he needed to go. Whatever it was that he could do was deemed not a skill, but somehow, he could always make a map in his mind of anywhere he had been.

Perhaps I should have tried to draw them and learn the Cartography skill… then at least, I’d have a job and a life.

Another one of the dozen snares he had set a week ago caught his attention. Francis had already passed a few spots where he had set traps a week ago but had yet to have a chance to check them.  Phillip had made the training harder, using their one rest day as a day to go over battle tactics and formations.  While not overly physical, no one got more than a few hours to pursue their own desires.

One doesn't go into these woods at night.

The beasts that roamed at night were not to be ignored.  

Wolves, large cats, wild badgers that seemed to enjoy flesh, and other beasts presented some life-ending challenges to those foolish enough to venture into their domain unprotected or prepared.

Bursting through some bushes, Francis grinned as he found what he sought.

There was a small game trail exactly where he had remembered it. Running along the worn path, he could easily dodge the thorny bushes, which made navigating the overgrown area much easier.

There were a few with berries he knew he could eat, but doing so meant stopping, and that meant risking two silver.

Instead, he acted like a forest animal, jogging with purpose, watching his steps, and listening to the sounds around him.  

***

"HOLY SHIT THATS COLD!"

An audible groan escaped his mouth as the water hit his privates, and Francis wondered if, for a moment, he had made the wrong decision.  

The stream was faster than he had remembered, but the worst was how cold it was.  It felt amazing for about a second, but once it hit his taint, his whole body broke out in pinpricks.

His worn boots struggled to move on the slick rocks, and now it was time to go all in. He couldn’t hope to run toward the bridge. The only option now was forward.  

Diving in, his lungs wanted him to scream as the cold water went over his head, the current already dragging him downstream.

Coming up for air, he began kicking and swimming, knowing how to do it but having never really tried it in clothes before. His boots made the process even more demanding, and the way the water tugged at his tattered outfit caused panic and fear to start to set in.

The shore looked so far away, but he would not die this way.  He was going to make it.  

Focus... I can't leave Michael alone!

Forcing his arms to move, he breathed carefully, not letting his teeth chatter as he did.

The cold water made his limbs feel heavy, but there wasn't any option but to keep swimming.

Just keep swimming... just keep swimming...

Over and over, he repeated that thought and, finally, was rewarded when his foot struck a rock as he neared the shore.

Even though it hurt his toe, relief washed over him as he could finally stand.

Crawling out, his entire outfit dripped water everywhere. His boots squished from their fullness, and his deep breaths were a sign of how much energy he had just used.

Running and then swimming is a bad idea...

Shivering on the bank momentarily, Francis saw he had drifted further down than he had intended.

A cry from downstream made him freeze, not from the cold water but from what it was. Like a child or woman crying in distress, the sound meant just one thing.

Shit! A puma... A freaking puma!

Without waiting, he dashed upstream, looking for the game trail he thought he had seen.

Each step caused his boots to make a horrible wet sound, making his feet heavier and forcing his tired legs to work harder.

Yet the puma cried out again, making his body forget how tired he was.  A surge of energy came, and Francis dashed into the woods, ignoring the pain of thorns that tore into his skin.

***

His lungs ached, and his whole body was beyond sore and exhausted.  The sound of the puma had finally stopped about ten minutes ago, yet forcing his legs to move, Francis stumbled out of the trees and onto the road.

A copper taste of blood was in his mouth, and each breath was dry and ragged.  

The town had to be close, but he couldn't guess where the others were.  

Holding both hands above his head, he gasped for air, slowly walking in the direction of Macenburg, praying he wasn't last and hoping he might be in the lead.

Maybe I'll donate a coin at the temple if I'm first... if someone up there actually cares about the ninth son...

Trudging along the road, Francis walked for a few minutes before a shout from behind caused him to glance over his shoulder.

As far as he could see, down the dirt road where the bend of the trees was came a pack of teens.  

He couldn't count them; they were a bit away, but he could recognize one of the leaders.

Malcomb... This means I'm in the lead!

Once more, his body felt alive because of that knowledge.  

Forcing his stiff legs and shoulders to move, Francis’s body began to loosen up slowly. After a few hundred yards, he could finally jog, breathing with each step, being mindful of where he placed his feet, and avoiding the ruts in the road.

Win! For once in my crappy ass life, I can win!