Merek's Ascendance Page 11

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said without looking away from him. Merek smiled, even though he wasn’t sure she was being completely sincere. He tried to hold her gaze, but he was worried she would think he was staring and looked away.

  He took a deep breath and smiled before looking around, casting around for something to talk about. All he could see was the rousing folk singing along to a different song and putting gold pieces into a bag for the lute player.

  “Is the lute player good at her job?”

  “That’s Anna, and she is a marvelous bard. She sings here every night, and usually all the people join in.”

  “That sounds exhausting,” Merek said with a laugh.

  “Doesn’t it?” she replied as he leaned against the wall, turning to get a full view of the tavern. She moved closer, standing at his shoulder. “Personally, I like some peace and quiet from time to time.”

  “I agree,” Merek said, “not that parties and excitement aren’t nice…”

  “Oh no, but on occasion…”

  “Some quiet…”

  “And seclusion…”

  “Can be… quite nice.”

  They were only inches apart now, and once they both realized this, they separated with a laugh. She leaned against his shoulder, and Merek froze. He didn’t know if he was supposed to move, if he wasn’t, he had no idea. Physical contact from anyone was almost unknown to him.

  “Would you…” she said, breaking their relative silence, “would you mind joining me for a walk?”

  Before Merek could respond in the negative, Thorald appeared as if he could read Merek’s thoughts.

  “He’d love to, wouldn’t you my friend?”

  “With all due respect, your highness, I’m supposed to guard you until your safe return to the castle.”

  “Bah. With all due respect, go have some fun. Prince’s orders.”

  “I’m almost positive you can’t override your father’s orders.”

  “Go!” Thorald said before whispering mischievously, “or I’ll tell everyone you sleep with goats.”

  Merek had no idea what that was supposed to imply, but before he could summon a rebuttal Thorald was pushing him towards the door. Julia followed, and Thorald bowed his head with a smile before heading back towards the throng.

  “I really should stay…” Merek said the moment the door closed and the quiet of the outside world surrounded them.

  “Yes, keep him safe,” Julia said.

  “Especially from himself,” he continued, staring without meaning to down into her eyes.

  “Make sure nothing bad happens,” she nodded, staring back up at him.

  Merek smiled before walking away, Julia falling into step next to him. “I’ll come right back,” he said flippantly.

  The two walked towards the forest, neither one saying much. Merek did his best to control his shaking as something resembling nervousness only a thousand times worse sent shivers up his spine. If she felt as nervous as he did, she didn’t show it.

  “You have no idea how hard it is to make sewing thread out of grass,” was the first thing Merek was conscious of saying.

  “Out of grass? Is that even possible?”

  “Yes… well, somewhat. Nothing really effective, but you can put the grass together enough to make a coat, or pants. That’s about all I know how to make,” he laughed.

  “I’ve heard some stories about your time in the Great Forest. Six months, surviving on your own? How did you do it?”

  “Painfully,” was the first thing Merek could think of. “And with the help of some rather nice bears.”

  “Bears? Bears were nice to you? I didn’t know bears could be nice.”

  “I like to think anyone or anything could be nice if you give it the chance. Except the weather. The weather is going to be as terrible as it can without any provocation.”

  Julia laughed, covering her hand with her mouth.

  “It seems you’ve heard plenty about me, but I’ve heard nothing about you. So tell me, Julia, who are you?”

  “I work at the blacksmiths,” she said.

  “Blacksmiths?” Merek repeated. He was unfamiliar with the name.

  “I normally just watch the books – my father, he owns the shop, is useless with numbers – but he lets me work forge and sharpen the blades on occasion. It’s actually a whole lot of fun.”

  Merek nodded, partly to show he was listening and partly to store the information that a ‘blacksmith’ was a blade-sharpener.

  “That sounds amazing,” Merek said.

  “Oh, there’s nothing like it!” Julia replied. “The smell of a blade out of the forge, the feel of the hammer against the steel, it makes me feel… calm. Safe.”

  “Calm?” Merek repeated, “You seem rather calm right now.”

  “That’s because I feel safe,” she said, and Merek half-smiled. He had walked straight into that one with both eyes open.

  “Well, I’m not sure I’ll be of any use if bandits attack, but I’ll try to be sure I’m ran through first.”

  Julia laughed again, covering her mouth with both hands as her face grew red.

  “I’m sure,” she said when she could finally speak again, “that you’ll do far more than that.”

  Merek smiled, this time not speaking any thoughts aloud.

  They reached the edge of the town in silence, simply enjoying the night air. It was cool and getting colder as winter approached, but for now the night was filled with gentle breezes. Truthfully, Merek was a little warm in his cloak.

  “Seems a bit chilly tonight,” Julia said as she rubbed her arms. She wasn’t wearing anything other than her dress. Immediately, Merek unlatched his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. She smiled at him, though he wasn’t sure why. She was cold and clearly needed his cloak more than he did. It was nothing important.

  “Aw, how sweet,” a seedy voice sounded from the shadows. Merek whirled, instantly on alert, as three people appeared from the shadows. The hairs on the back of Merek’s neck stood on end, and Julia wrapped both hands around his arm.

  “Ain’t that sweet, gents?” the voice said again, and this time Merek saw its owner. It was a man with a bald head and a gray mustache that took up half of his face.

  “Wait,” Merek said, “I know you.”

  “Not as well as you’re about to. Turn out your pockets. And maybe – maybe – we won’t take your woman there as well.”

  “I don’t have any money,” Merek said twisting his neck to both sides until there was an audible pop. “And if I did, I still wouldn’t give you any.”

  “Well then I guess you’ll have to pay with your life!”

  Merek lips drew back as he unconsciously bared his teeth.

  “Give me what I want,” the poacher said, “now.”

  “You remind me of my father,” Merek replied, drawing from his back his staff. “My father and I don’t get along.”

  “You think that little stick scares us?”

  “No,” Merek replied, “but it’s going to.”

  The bandit to Merek’s left came forward first, laughing. He drew a short sword, one with a curved blade. A cutlass, if Merek wasn’t very much mistaken. He swung the cutlass at Merek, but it was met by the staff. Merek knocked aside the next attack too, swinging the staff so fast it momentarily disappeared. The next moment it was buried in the bandit’s gut, and he doubled over.

  Merek sunk his boot into the bandit’s head, and he hit the ground with a sharp thud.

  The next man came forward warily, wielding the same weapon as his former. Merek shifted his grip, waiting for his approach. The bandit seemed willing to wait him out, trying to bait Merek into making the first move, but Merek didn’t budge.

  Their eyes locked together, two different shades of blue, and Merek’s lips pulled back off of his teeth.

  The bandit turned and ran away without daring provoke Merek.

  That just left the leader, who saw his companion run and shouted
after him. “Get back here, you spineless worm!” The fleeing bandit didn’t even look back.

  “Just you and me, I’m afraid,” Merek said as he twirled his staff.

  “That suits me fine,” the poacher replied, drawing a straight sword from its sheath; a regular blade, carried by most who could afford it.

  “I’ll give you this once chance,” Merek said as he brought his staff to bear, horizontally in front of him with both hands holding tight. “Surrender now and you’ll only do a brief stint in jail.”

  “I’d rather die than go to prison!” the poacher yelled, charging forward and slashing down.

  “So be it,” Merek said as he lifted the staff and took the full force of the blow. Then he twisted, throwing the poacher off balance. The bandit tried to counter him by slashing at his staff, and Merek let him. The blade caught the hardened wood, and Merek let it be ripped from his hands.

  A risk, certainly, but one he had practiced many times before.

  While the poacher was distracted, reveling in what he was sure was victory, Merek was moving. He sunk his right fist into the poacher’s gut before slapping the sword into the air with his other hand by smacking under the pommel. It flew into the air, and while it floated Merek punched the poacher square on the jaw.

  Then, perfectly timed, Merek caught the falling blade and jammed it forward, running the poacher through.

  He had practiced it before a hundred times, practicing the force to lift the blade, the right moment to catch it, the seamless transition to impale the former wielder.

  But never before had the weapon been real and the target alive at the same time.

  The sword cut straight through his flesh and exploded out the other side, spraying the grass in a shower of blood. The man’s jaw dropped in shock as his eyes widened, aware for the briefest of moments that he had been skewered. He fell to his knees, as if giving respect to the man who had bested him, before falling face first into the dirt.

  But by far, the worst thing was the sound. It still rung in his ears long after the poacher’s life faded. The sound of the blade piercing flesh, the squish of skin piercing, of organs tearing open, the sound that was like a pig getting cut up but a thousand times worse, that sound ran Merek through just as he had done to the poacher.

  Merek backed away, his breath harsher now than it had been during the fight as the full repercussions fell on him.

  He was a killer.

  As if she could sense him drowning in his own actions, Julia came to his side.

  “Thank you. You probably saved my life.”

  “I killed him,” Merek replied, “I just killed a man.”

  “He was going to kill you,” she said, lightly placing a hand on his arm. “I think you did the right thing.”

  And, though it was only a little bit, that did actually help.

  “I don’t think that’s something I’ll ever get used to.”

  “Oh, you will,” a new voice entirely said. Merek and Julia turned to see a few guards heading towards them with weapons drawn. “You just need a few more under your belt.”

  Merek nodded, though the soldier’s words did nothing to mollify him. “I don’t think that’s ever something I want to get used to.”

  “We’ll handle this,” the other soldier said, picking the surviving bandit off of the ground and carrying him away in irons. Merek retrieved his staff and, with one last look at the dead poacher, Merek walked away with Julia.

  “Did I do the right thing?” he asked her the moment they were alone again.

  “Didn’t I already answer that?” she replied with a half-smile. Merek thought back and nodded.

  “It’s just… why couldn’t we find a peaceful solution? Why did he insist we fight?”

  “You’re asking questions people have been trying to answer for years. Personally, I don’t think there is an answer.”

  “Maybe you’re right. You know…” he hesitated, unsure of how he wanted to word his next sentence. “Never mind,” he said.

  Julia, however, was not about to allow him to chicken out. “What?”

  “It’s… no, it’s nothing.”

  “Oh, please tell me.”

  Merek hesitated again, staring off at the stars.

  “It’s just… you are… smart.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that… I just… oh, I’m messing this up horribly, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”

  Merek took a long moment to collect his thoughts. He had an inkling that if he didn’t pull himself together, his night with Julia would turn sour. Well, more sour, at any rate.

  “I don’t have a lot of experience having… friends. So I’m not very good at this whole…

  ‘talking’ thing. But… you are very interesting… and it has been a pleasure to spend this evening with you.”

  Julia smiled, her face going red as she refused to look at him.

  “And…” Merek said as his heart jumped into his throat and momentarily muting him. “I would very much like to spend more evenings with you.”

  Julia looked very surprised at his words, but not as surprised as Merek felt that he had actually gotten the words out

  “I... I would like that too,” Julia finally said, staring determinedly at his chest.

  They made their way back to the tavern, neither speaking very much. But by the time they made it to the door, their hands had somehow become intertwined with each other. Neither of them had instigated it happening, but neither one made any move to separate.

  Thorald greeted Merek at the door, laughing and shouting with a mug in his hand.

  “Are you…” Merek cast around for the right word. He knew what it was, he had read about it just last week. “Drunk, my friend?”

  “I am not,” Thorald said, his voice slurred, pulling Merek – and by extension, Julia – into the tavern. “I’ve just been drinking. Come, let’s sing a song!”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know any, your highness.”

  “No titles. I hate titles. ‘My prince, your highness, your royal majesty – that ones the worst – I don’t like any of ‘em. I’m just Thorald. Plain and simple.”

  Merek simply chuckled, even as he cast his gaze around for anything out of the ordinary.

  And, with a shudder he couldn’t suppress, he found something. A face was watching his, and as their eyes met Merek’s blood ran cold. Before he could get a solid lock on it, a finger pointed to a back room and his target was gone.

  “… and then people don’t ever actually treat me like a person! It’s always prince this, your majesty that. Sometimes it’s exhausting.”

  Merek turned back to Thorald, his heart beating so hard against his chest it was causing him physical pain.

  “I’ll be right back,” Merek said to Julia, who looked at him with a face full of worry. He tried to smile, to soothe her, but his smile failed.

  He walked as slowly as he dared to come face to face with someone he had so hoped he would never see again.

  His father was staring him down.

  Chapter Ten: Blood and Bonds

  “So here’s where you ran off to,” were the first words out of his father’s mouth. Merek said nothing, trying to organize his thoughts into something rational.

  “I see you’re having fun at my expense,” he continued, and Merek’s eyes narrowed.

  “Your expense?” Merek said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  “Oh yes. I’ve heard the stories of the newest knight in training. Merek Quinn. Son of a knight in some far off kingdom. Except… as much as I hate to admit it… I’m your father. And I don’t remember being a knight of anywhere.”

  “Trust me,” Merek snapped, “I didn’t tell them you were a knight.”

  “Ashamed of me, are you? Ashamed of the man who put food on the table, who supplied you with a roof and four walls?”

  And occasionally took it away, Merek almost said
. But the words remained trapped behind his teeth.

  “Your mother pulled through, by the way,” his father said. “Still carries the scar you left her with, not to mention a broken heart you gave her.”

  “Funny, cause I still have the scar you gave me,” Merek said through clenched teeth, “and I don’t believe for a second either of you were sad to see me go.”

  “That’s true,” his father laughed, “you never were grateful to me. You always wanted to leave, to go somewhere new. You never once thought about how your mother and I would feel, how we’d manage without you.”

  “It didn’t look like you wanted to manage with me,” Merek retorted, “so without me shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “That’s not how you talk to your father,” the bigger man said, taking a step forward.

  Merek wanted to stare him down. Merek wanted to show his father that he couldn’t just threaten him anymore. He wanted to say something, anything.

  But none of those things happened. Merek’s eyes simply dropped to the floor, and he waited for the inevitable.

  “The Healer charged a lot for the medicine to help your mother. And you’re going to pay it back.”

  Merek almost laughed. The Healer charged next to nothing for all of her remedies.

  “That and we need a little extra gold around the house for… certain things.”

  Hopefully a bathtub, Merek thought savagely.

  “So you’re going to pay up, or I’ll tell all your little friends here that everything you’ve told them is a complete lie.”

  Merek could say nothing to defend himself. He had gotten paid a meager sum for some patrols he had gone on, but he wouldn’t be making any real gold until he became a true knight, hunting down bandits and protecting the townsfolk.

  Not that any of that changed his answer.

  “How much do you want?”

  “Oh, I think thirty pieces of gold ought to be enough. For starters.”

  “Starters?” Merek said incredulously.

  “I gave you life, little boy. I’m the reason you’re living the good life here while I have to slave in a mine. You owe me. And you’re going to pay.”