Here’s a little treat. Ben’s written a short story intro to book 1 of his Living on the Run series.

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Living on the Run

by Ben Patterson • Copyright 2014 Ben Patterson

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Summery

“What do you want, Ericca Archer? The palace isn’t the worst place to be a slave. You have fine clothes, three squares, a comfy bed, and, if you want, a pretty girl like you, plenty of . . . very expensive baubles to grace your lovely neck. What more could you ask for?”

Her laugh, tittering and uncertain, betrayed her incredulity before she could restrain it. “And imagine, Lord Tyson, all I have to be is your plaything. That’s a price I’m not willing to pay, sir. Do you really think so little of me?”

Surprised, he smiled. “Actually, my dear Ericca Archer, my opinion of you has just risen considerably.”

Chapter One

Ericca’s heart raced as she leaned over her new purchase and spread the tarp to hide it.

“Whatcha got there?” a voice said behind her.

She stiffened. Being discovered now was the last thing she wanted. Pushing all emotion from her face, she straitened upright before turning to her twelve-year-old brother, then forced a smile hoping to look more mature than her fifteen years. “This has to be our secret, kay, little brother?”

To make sure they were alone, Riley stepped back and glanced up and down the stables before stepping back into the stall. His face and clothes were smudged with dirt and grime. Like Ericca, a week of Sundays had come and gone since his last bath. Only one strap held up his coveralls, the other, broken, hung loose behind him. “What is that?” he said, fixing his eyes on the tarp.

Ericca forced a reluctant grin. “It’s a spaceship.”

“That little thing? Nooo waaay.”

“Yes, way. I mean, it’s not a spaceship now, but it will be. You want to help me with it?”

Riley stepped closer and Ericca tugged the tarp which slid off the small craft.

“You’re kidding, right?” Riley said. The disappointment written in his face came with a slow, slight shake of his head.

The ship was old, well weathered, and hadn’t had air under its belly in ages, but the craft had potential. A little paint, some sealant, a bit of rewiring . . .

Ericca’s hopes deflated. “You’re right. This thing’ll never fly. What was I thinking?”

Riley shrugged and raised his eyes to hers and the apples of his cheeks rose, bringing with them the corners of his mouth. “If you want it in the air tomorrow, no, it isn’t going to happen. But if we can find a better place to hide it, work on it in our spare time, search dismantlers for the parts we need . . .”

That was Riley. Ever since he was able to walk he was a joy to be with. Ever and always the optimist, the level head, the encourager. She wanted to cry. She wanted to break down then and there and let go of her anger, let go of the pretense of always being the strong one. With their parents gone, keeping the family together fell to her. But she was only fifteen. No longer a little girl. But not quite a woman grown either. Keeping that stiff upper lip was wearing thin, and she didn’t know how much longer she could do it.

“What’s going on here?” boomed Scupper’s voice from the doorway.

Ericca spun to cover the ship but realized even as she replaced the tarp that it was hopeless. Letting the canvas fall, she turn to the big Swede.

His face was stern. “Let Scuppers see, Little one.”

Ericca stepped aside, glanced at the small craft, then drew her eyes back to the stable foreman who was stroking his stubbled chin thoughtfully.

“This is spaceship,” he said flatly. His English wasn’t quite where he wanted it, but he always made himself understood. “You use to escape this world perhaps?”

“Scuppers, I can explain. I—”

He stopped her with a raised hand. “You can no own. Rules. You can no fix for you. This is King Saundler rule. Forty, no fifty lashes Saundler know about this for you. You want lashes with whip?”

“Please, Scuppers, I—”

Again he raised his hand to cut her off. “I’m tell Saundler. Is best.”

“No, Scuppers. Please, let me explain.”

His stern face and glower told the two youths her words fell on deaf ears.

Scuppers turned to Riley. “You go. Get King Blackhart.”

With a saddened face, Riley nodded, and headed for the door, but Scuppers caught his shoulder as he passed. “Is not urgent. Only if Saundler is free. Now go.”

With that, Riley headed out. Scuppers turned to the girl, and gestured to the tarp. “Come. I help you fold.”

Ericca handed one end to the big foreman and they folded the tarp in silence, all the while, Scuppers studied her face. She had never seen the gentle giant angry before. Usually the man took everything in stride. Trying to provoke him was like trying to provoke a koala. Before now, Ericca didn’t believe it was possible.

They folded the second tarp and Ericca carried them up to the loft. This, a plank floor covered in straw, was where she and Riley slept. That was fine in the summer and warmer months, but she and he had to sleep in the bunkhouse when it got cold. Everyone had a bed there but them. She and Riley had to make do with blankets laid on the floor in the corner of the main room. A few of the men offered to share their bed with her, a few others with Riley, but that wasn’t going to happen if she could help it. Scuppers made clear that the two were off limits to all but that man who wanted his head split. Still, the offers didn’t quit.

Chapter Two

In a few moments King Saundler came into the stall with Prince Tyson a step behind him. Riley followed, and the few guards took posts outside the room. Ericca was in the loft and watched the happenings through a slit between planks.

“What’s this about?” Saundler said.

Scuppers dipped his head in salute, then gestured to the small craft. “Your Grace, I’m want to fix. I’m think I need eh, umm, small . . .” he waved a finger to indicate the sky, “I’m fly. I’m looking, I’m looking,” he postured as if he were looking down on the world below, “Ah, there is it what I’m looking for. Is good, no?”

Saunder stepped to the small crafted and tugged at a few of the parts and prodded the ripped and worn seat. “Looks like a lost cause, Scuppers. If you need a hovercraft, I think we can arrange something. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll buy new.” He turned to head out but Scuppers blocked his way.

The hulking foreman’s smile was big and friendly. He pulled Riley to his side. “Excuse please, My King. I’m want Riley is learn. Is mechanic for me. I’m train. He is one day mechanic for you. This, I’m think, is good for me, is good for you, is good for boy. Yes?”

Saundler smiled and patted Scuppers shoulder. “Fine. Whatever you want. I’ll tell the accountant you’ll be seeing him for funds.”

“Funds?”

“Money, Scuppers; tools, parts, whatever you need.”

“Ah, thank you, thank you, My King. For you, I’m do good working. Always.” He stepped aside and bowed deeply. Pressing on Riley’s back, he forced him to bow as well.

The king stepped from the room and Ericca rolled onto her back to breathe a sigh of relief. Scuppers. What a champ. He came through for her in spades. Now, she and Riley could work openly on the spaceship without having to spend all their meager funds on parts. Sitting up, she spun around to drop her legs over the side. Below, Skupper, Riley, and Prince Tyson looked up at her.

The prince, dressed in riding leathers, didn’t look surprised to find her. “You two stink.” There was no emotion written in his face.

“Sir?”

“Why aren’t you bathing?”

“Pardon me, sire. Riley and I—”

“I’m not accustomed to people speaking down to me from a perch, young lady. Come down here.”

Realizing her blunder, Ericca hurried down the wooden ladder, turned to her Lord Tyson, and dropped her eyes to his feet. “I beg your pardon, sire.”

“Well? Explain yourself. Why aren’t you bathing?”

“Riley and I work hard all day, sire. At the end of the day we have just enough energy to collapse into our blankets.”

He raised his eyes to Scuppers. “Is this true.”

Ericca glanced back.

Scuppers dipped his head. “No one, absolutely no one, works harder for me. I’m say do this,” he smacked his hands together, “they do this. Is not quit until job is done.”

Tyson laughed, and bounced his eyes from teen to teen before letting them stop on Ericca. “Haven’t you heard? There is always tomorrow.”

“We don’t like to leave loose ends, sire,” Riley said.

Tyson laughed again. “Ryley, personal hygiene is just as important as getting a job done. When you smell like that, you only find yourself working alone. Scuppers, see that this boy takes better care of himself.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Tyson’s face sobered. “Now, about this ship. Do you take me for a fool?”

“Sire?” Ericca said.

He lifted her chin with a finger to meet her eye to eye. “That is your ship. Isn’t it!?”

She offered a meager nod. Now he knew and there was no getting around that. So much for her shot at escape.

“Bring her to the mansion, Scuppers; side entrance.”

Chapter Three

When they reached the side entrance, Scuppers rapped on the door’s glass.

A fortyish maid opened it to them. As Scuppers turned and headed away, Ericca entered. In this alien environment, and without Riley at her side, Ericca felt lost. She was lost. But was she in trouble? Given what Tyson Blackhart knew, how could she not be?

The maid led her up a narrow spiral staircase at the back of the kitchen that went up to the servants’ quarters. From there, she led Ericca to the servants’ communal bathroom at the end of a long hallway. A girl near Riley’s age stood by the bathtub at the room’s center. “This bath has been drawn for you, Ericca,” the girl said. “Well, strip and climb in. Don’t be slow.”

The older maid, with a soured face, gave Ericca a contemptuous look, then spun on her heal and left the two girls alone.

“I can bathe myself,” Ericca said. “You needn’t stay.”

“You’ll strip and climb in,” the girl insisted without losing her smile. “I promise I’ll scrub only your back and leave the rest to you. That touchpad mounted on the wall there is our intercom. Touch it, say my name, which is Darsea by the way, and tell me you’re ready. I’ll be back to take you to your room.”

“My room?”

The girl beamed. “This is where you’ll be living. You’ll share a room with Hildy, Cami, and me.”

“Hildy? Cami?”

“Hildegard Swain, and Camille Bartilo. They’re nice. You’ll like’em.”

After an awkward moment Ericca realized Darsea was going nowhere. She began to strip.

Darsea grinned, shook her head, and turned away to offer Ericca a modicum of privacy.

Ericca stripped off her last garment, stepped into the warm water, and lowered into it. Not surprising, it was like immersing herself in pure heaven. It had been so long since she’d indulged in such a simple thing as a bath that she had almost forgotten what it was like.

Darsea gathered up her clothes and, doing her best to keep them at arm’s length, dropped them down the wrong shoot; one marked ‘Incinerator.’ The one next to it was marked ‘Laundry.’

“Wait! I wanted those washed?”

“I don’t believe you did. Certainly not. Those rags belonged in the incinerator.”

Ericca dropped below the clear water and covered herself with her hands. “I can bath myself. Please leave.”

“Sorry. Here we wash each other’s backs. The rest I’ll leave to you.” With that the girl dipped a soft scrub-cloth into the water and buried a bar of soap into it to work up a good lather. Then she pushed Ericca’s shoulder from behind. “Sit up. Lean forward. Come on.”

Ericca did as instructed and Darsea scrubbed firmly but not enough to take off skin. “With that she said, “I’ll be right back. Go ahead and take care of the rest.”

Before long, Darsea returned with clean clothes, a dress Ericca considered both practical and pretty, and comfortable shoes that made sense for long hours of being on one’s feet. Darsea gathered Ericca’s long, black hair to one side and made a single braid of which fell in front of her shoulder clear to her waist.

Chapter-Four

Later that hour Prince Tyson found Ericca in the library polishing gold trimmed mahogany. “Hey,” he said, catching her hand to stop her, then just as quickly released her. He folded his arms, and smiled. “So, Ericca, like your new job?”

“I do, Sire. Thank you.” She stepped off her stepstool to face him. “This place seems so much bigger on the inside.”

His face became serious. “Ericca, I want you to stay within certain, designated areas of the mansion. Study the floor plan, memorize it, and don’t wander out of those areas. Understood?”

“Mmm, yessir. May I ask why?”

“You may not. Just do as you’re told,”

“As you wish, Sire.”

At lunch time, a heavyset girl nearly eighteen came in to fetch her. “Hi, roomy,” she said with an overstated but honest smile. “Ericca, is it? I’m Cami. Come, let’s grab a bite.”

In the kitchen they found another girl waiting for them. Cook had prepared sandwiches and juice. Hildy, a twenty-year-old, her face and neck badly scarred from a fire, was shy and quiet. Cami, nearing thirty, was outgoing. She was opinionated to a fault, understood nothing about personal boundaries, and needed to bridle her tongue. Her mouth was always running, always lowbrow, and her language was always bluer than a macaw. But she was funny and, overlooking her more off-colored words, kept both girls in stitches.

Eleven-year-old Darsea, who was quick with the comebacks though painfully civil, joined them.

“So, first time in the big house, hmm?” Camille said to Ericca. “The prince is a prince sure enough, but the king is a royal—”

“Whoah!” Darsea cut her off. “Walls have ears, and all.”

Cami turned to Hildy and gingerly brush back her hair to expose the girl’s ear to Ericca. The fire had burned it off.

“The king’s doing?” Ericca said.

Hildy brushed away Cami’s hand and dropped her eyes.

“All that, for what?” Darsea asked.

Cami shrugged. “Girl’s got to defend what’s hers. King Saundler wanted t’ learn her she wasn’t her own to defend. Not against him anyway.”

“Been worse if not for the prince,” Hildegard said, her voice little more than a whisper.

“You let a man have a little without raising a fuss, he might jus’ think he’s entitled to more. King thinks they ain’t no boundaries to his wants no how. He jus’ takes and takes.”

“Why didn’t you run away?” Ericca asked, incensed someone, anyone, would demand so much from an employee.

Cami laughed. “Jus’ what do you think you’re doing her, girl? You is pro-per-ty,” she said emphasizing each syllable. “Property don’t run away, it jus’ gets used up.”

“I’m no one’s property.”

Darsea patted her hand. “You’re Tyson Blackhart’s property, Ericca. I thought you knew.”

Chapter Five

The girl’s returned to their assigned tasks, Ericca went back to the library where Tyson sat in a high-backed chair, reading.

The idea of being someone’s plaything didn’t set well with Ericca. She thought, well she thought, “You own me?” she blurted, glaring at the prince.

He sighed, carefully bookmarked his page, and set aside his book, then raised his eyes to her. “In a kingdom, everything and everybody is owned by the king.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “Does this really come as a surprise to you?”

Ericca’s heart suddenly felt heavy in her chest. “I . . . I didn’t know . . .”

“What? That you were mine to do with as I please?”

Her jaw slacked. Now Hildegard’s scars made perfect sense. Ericca could tell the girl had been very pretty once, but she made the mistake of refusing the king. She was Saundler’s example to the others. Stunned, she didn’t know what to say. She suddenly felt cowed. The feeling was new and awful.

“What do you want, Ericca Archer? The palace isn’t the worst place to be a slave. You have fine clothes, three squares, a comfy bed, and, if you want, a pretty girl like you, plenty of . . . very expensive baubles to grace your lovely neck. What more could you ask for?”

Her laugh, tittering and uncertain, betrayed her incredulity before she could restrain it. “And imagine, Lord Tyson, all I have to be is your plaything. That’s a price I’m not willing to pay, sir. Do you really think so little of me?”

Surprised, he smiled. “Actually, my dear Ericca Archer, my opinion of you has just risen considerably.”

 

To read more about the life and adventures of Ericca Archer, find “Living in Freefall” on KDP Select.