Merek's Ascendance Page 17

  Merek didn’t reply, fighting down tears that so desperately wanted to escape. It felt better now, to finally get his secret out, but it was so much more than that. He was so afraid that Thorald wouldn’t accept him. He would throw him out, curse him for his subterfuge.

  Instead, Thorald was just waiting for him to tell him the truth. Waiting so Merek would know he was trusted.

  If Merek didn’t know any better, he would say he was loved.

  “There is, however, one thing I need to ask.”

  “What’s that?” Merek replied.

  “During the fight, I saw you fly into a rage. One I’d never seen before. It looked as if you were going to beat him to death with your bare hands. What spawned that level of hatred?”

  Merek looked away. He had thought about it often, and he himself hadn’t found a real answer. But now, with Thorald, it came to him quite easily.

  “All I saw was my father. I looked at that assassin and all I could see was my father’s cowardly face. Then… I just couldn’t hold it in.”

  Thorald nodded before swiftly changing the subject. “Now, there’s one last thing we need to do.”

  “What’s that?” Merek said.

  “Now I am king. And you are going to be my top advisor. I have a feeling I’m going to need you to keep me honest, and I value your opinion. But before that can happen, we have a war to win.”

  “And a war criminal to bring to justice,” Merek added.

  “Exactly. And so, I have something for you.”

  “What?”

  Thorald reached under his cot, pulling out something about five feet long and wrapped in a sheet.

  He pulled off the sheet, revealing a staff.

  “I know we can’t replace the old one, but hopefully this one will last longer. I had this perky blacksmith I know make it.”

  He held it out to Merek, who took it. It was heavier than his previous one, but it was so much more solid.

  “I need you to lead them, Merek.”

  “Lead them? Me? I’m no leader.”

  “You’re the one they’ll follow. I can’t fight them.”

  “Thorald I…”

  “He took my father from me!”

  Thorald’s voice broke as tears welled in his eyes.

  “He took away my father, and I was powerless to stop it. I can’t go anymore. I need you to end this. I believe in you, my friend, even if you don’t. I need you to finish this.”

  Merek sat there, staring at the staff in his hands. Lead an army? Fight a war? Him? He… could he?

  It was at that moment Merek realized that he had never before actually wondered what he was capable of. He just went through the motions, always assuming the worst and applying himself in the loosest possible ways.

  Well, no more of that.

  Merek stood up, spinning the staff around. It would take a little practice to get used to its weight, but then he’d be ready.

  “Maybe I’m not so bad after all,” Merek said, “if you believe in me.”

  Without another word, Merek bowed his head to the new King and left the medical ward.

  He had one more stop to make before he headed for the blacksmith’s shop.

  Merek walked, his limp fading with every step. He left the castle and headed for the town, seeking out a jeweler.

  “Well, well, look who it is.”

  Merek recognized the dirty voice. He stopped as the rage-filled snicker reached his ears, and turned to see Harold, his ‘father,’ leaning against the castle wall, laughing.

  “If it isn’t the man who failed to save the King. Good job, Sir Knight.”

  Merek said nothing, waiting for the man to get to the point.

  “I guess you really do mess up everything you do. But even I didn’t think you’d manage to mess up keeping the King safe. Your failures really don’t know any boundaries, do they?”

  Merek still remaining silent, waiting.

  “Nothing to say for yourself? Have you finally learned that I’ve always been right, and you’ve always been a waste who I wish I was never stuck with?”

  “Oh, I’ve learned a few things,” Merek said, whipping his staff around so fast the air sung. It smacked into Harold’s face with a metallic thud, and he fell to the ground.

  “You son of a…!”

  Before he could finish the shout, Merek jabbed him in the back of the head with his staff. The man fell into the dirt, saying nothing else.

  “I’ve learned that you’re the one who is nothing. Means nothing. No friends. No family. No one to mourn you when you’re gone. Not even your wife will miss you. I put up with your lies, with your shouts and your anger for years, but no more. I’ve conquered the forest. Befriended wild bears. Defeated bandits and turned away invaders. I’ve met a woman I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with. Someone who actually loves me. And I’m going to have at least four children, apparently, who will all have a loving father.

  “I will be everything that you aren’t. Good. Kind. People will know my name, and they will say it with a smile because I will do everything I can to earn their respect. Because I will protect them from the darkness that people like you unleash. I am Merek, friend of princes and people alike, Knight of Wentana.

  “And you? You are nothing at all.”

  “I’ll tell them,” Harold said, his lip curled back, “I’ll tell them all you’re a fraud.”

  “Go ahead,” Merek said, “tell everyone you know. Tell the whole country that you aren’t a knight. They’ll believe it. Tell them. And you know what will happen? Nothing. Because the new King already knows. You have no hold over me, Harold. Nor will you ever again. Now get up. And leave. If I ever see your face again, I will bury my sword in your throat.”

  Harold stood up, staring at him with hate-filled eyes. It was clear that he wanted to fight, but Harold knew he would lose this round. Armed or not, Merek was his better.

  And for the first time, both of them knew it.

  Harold walked away, rubbing his head where the staff had struck him.

  Merek took a deep breath, feeling something he had never experienced. Freedom. He felt light, and young. As young as he actually was for the first time in his whole life.

  Now all he had to do was see about a certain woman.

  An hour later, he entered the blacksmith’s shop with a smile he couldn’t hold back plastered on his face.

  “Welcome!” a short man behind the counter said. He had a graying mustache and matching beard, the only hair on his head. Julia’s father, Thomas. “Oh, Merek! A pleasure to see you again. What brings you here?”

  “I wish to speak to your daughter. But first, I have a question for you.”

  “Yes?”

  Merek took a deep steadying breath. Riding the energy from his newfound self-worth, he asked Thomas one simple question without even breaking eye contact.

  “May I have your daughter’s hand?”

  Thomas actually bent over with the force of his laughter, which Merek did not take as a good sign. But when the man straightened, his face was full of general amusement.

  “I thought you’d never ask, lad. I couldn’t imagine my Julie being with a better man.”

  “You really need to daydream more often, then,” Merek replied, and Thomas laughed again.

  “What’s all the – oh, hello, Merek!” Julia said as she came in from a back room. She had her blacksmithing apron on, and looked embarrassed to be seen that way, even after all these months.

  “Merek has a question to ask you,” Thomas said, leaving the room without another word. Merek opened his mouth before closing it again.

  Subtle.

  “What is it?”

  Asking Thomas was easy enough, but faced with the actual target of his affections… Merek found his confidence evaporate.

  What if she says no? What if she doesn’t want to be with me? What if she…?

  “Oh, shut up,” Merek said to himself, shaking his head. Julia thought nothing strange
of it. This wasn’t the first time Merek had argued with himself. Taking a deep breath, Merek walked up to Julia.

  Then he kissed her right on the mouth.

  She was surprised, but the vigor of which she kissed him back made it clear she enjoyed it.

  “I’m going to lead the battle against Grevoria. I have a plan to end it quickly. But, if I don’t die… I…”

  Just say it, idiot.

  “Will you do me the underserved honor of being my wife?”

  Julia smiled. “It took you long enough,” she said as she kissed him.

  “That seems to be the consensus.”

  “Do you happen to have a ring?”

  “Actually,” Merek said, reaching into his pocket. He produced a solid silver ring with a simple ruby set in it.

  Her face lit up in a smile so perfect Merek nearly melted.

  “This is amazing. It’s exactly what I wanted,” she said.

  “I just looked through the jewelry shop until I saw the right one.”

  “Well, it looks like your gut didn’t let you down,” she said.

  “It usually doesn’t,” Merek replied, hugging her. Such a strange and wonderful thing, a hug. So simple yet so very powerful.

  “Well, what do you plan to do about Grevoria?”

  “Oh, I have a plan. I have no idea if it will work, but if it does, very little blood will be shed.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. Unless you plan… an assassination.”

  “No,” Merek said as her face darkened, “no, I fight with honor. And with any luck, honor is what will carry the day.”

  Julia smiled and kissed him again before saying, “may I accompany you?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind.”

  “There’s a good husband.”

  Merek laughed, and waited for her to get ready. She disappeared for a few minutes before reemerging sporting a new leather vest. It was bigger than the last, so Merek was sure it was stuffed full of even more daggers.

  Together, future life partners went to the castle. They wouldn’t have much time until Grevoria struck again, Merek was sure.

  He’d be ready for them.

  Chapter 15: Merek’s Charge

  Thorald was overjoyed at seeing the ring. “Ha! Good, I thought you’d never…”

  “Yes, I know,” Merek said, “Heaven forbid we try a little courtship now and again.”

  “Well, what’s the plan?” Thorald asked as he rose from bed. He could walk, if only just.

  “Grevoria?”

  “No, for dinner. Yes, Grevoria! I know you’re thinking something in that giant brain of yours.”

  “My brain is… never mind. Yes, I have a plan. And a contingency.”

  “See, he reads too much. Sorry, but I don’t know that one.”

  “A backup.”

  “So why not just say that?”

  “Contingency sounds better.”

  “Boys, you’re both very handsome,” Julia said, “can we get back on track?”

  “Right,” Merek said sheepishly, “sorry. The plan is two-fold. First, me.”

  “You?” Thorald asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I’ve read that in some civilizations, battles were decided by two warriors, one from each land. They battle. Winner takes all.”

  Thorald nodded. “I like it.”

  “You do?” Merek said.

  “Of course. You can defeat him.”

  “He beat me rather badly last time we met. And I’m sure he’ll be who they send out.”

  “Naturally. But last time he took us by surprise, and you were angry. Unfocused. Now, ready and raring, you can beat him. I know you can.”

  “I agree,” Julia interjected, and Merek smiled.

  “Well, that’s the easy part then.”

  “What’s the hard part?” Thorald said.

  “What happens when they don’t honor the bargain?”

  “Oh come now, Grevoria is the very picture of honor,” Thorald said.

  “Yes, if we burned the picture and buried it at the bottom of the ocean.”

  All three of them laughed, but the magnitude of the situation sobered them up quickly.

  “So… what’s the rest of it?”

  “A little subterfuge of our own. I need to talk to Raven.”

  “The archer?”

  Merek nodded once again. “Rest, recover your strength. We march tomorrow, and I need you there. My challenge will mean nothing if the King isn’t present.”

  “Understood.”

  “Right then. Friend, fiancé. I have an errand to run.”

  He turned and left, leaving them both where they stood. He had to have a conversation with his favorite archer, even if it was going to be one sided. There was something he needed to discuss.

  He found Raven exactly where he thought he would, taking shots at targets. His eyes were closed and he was humming to himself, but that didn’t impair his aim in the slightest.

  “Raven. May I have a word?”

  Raven opened his eyes and nodded once. As always, Merek was intrigued by the dark shade of Raven’s hair. It was just like the hair of the girl he had captured all those months ago.

  “What is it that plagues you so?

  Raven said nothing, looking away.

  “I only ask because I need to call on you to do something, and I need to know if your heart is in it.”

  Raven looked at him, slightly angered.

  “Something has been eating at you, my friend, since before we even met. You are hurt. And before I risk your life in what could be a suicide mission, I want you to have some peace.”

  “It… it is not something I prefer to discuss.”

  “I understand. Believe me, I do. But please. Allow me to help, if I can.”

  Raven looked away, unconsciously looking towards the dungeons. Merek followed his gaze, wondering who was still in there. The poacher was for another two months, as well as the raven haired…

  It clicked.

  “She’s your sister, isn’t she?”

  Raven jumped, shocked. “How did...?”

  “Curse me for a fool,” Merek laughed, shaking his own at his own stupidity. “That’s why I thought she was strange. She reminded me of you. You have the same hair and the same quiet demeanor. I thought something was off about her, and that must be it. I recognized you in her, but stupidly I thought nothing of it.”

  “Well, she was trying to kill you,” Raven replied. “I’m not surprised you didn’t realize.”

  “So your own sister turned to crime.”

  “I figured one day I’d have to hunt her down. Imprisoning or killing my own sister. Can you imagine?”

  “No,” Merek said. “I can’t. I absolutely can’t. But maybe… maybe once her sentence is up, maybe she can try again. Start over.”

  “Doubtful. She is a stubborn mule.”

  “Well, perhaps she needs a hand from her brother. Have you seen her?”

  “Twice. She refused to speak to me. You think I should try again?”

  “Yes,” Merek said, “I think you should try again until you succeed.”

  “She has brought this on herself.”

  “Yes, she has,” Merek replied, “but we are all responsible for our own actions. She may have fallen from grace, but maybe you can lift her up again.”

  Raven gave a small laugh, one completely devoid of humor. But eventually he nodded.

  “I will do whatever you ask. What is it you wish of me?”

  Merek nodded, his lips pressing together. “We march tomorrow. I have a plan for a decisive victory. And I need a back-up plan when the first plan fails.”

  “I’m listening.”

  The night passed without much happening. They gathered all the troops they could, their full strength, and when the sun crept over the far-off mountains they marched.

  They marched for a long while, taking the straightest path they could to Grevoria. Thorald rode a horse, though he complained the whole time. Merek insi
sted he stay or ride in a cart.

  “Your wounds aren’t healed up enough yet,” Merek said.

  “And yours are?” Thorald whined.

  “Enough,” Merek replied.

  The march was easy enough. They would rest in the Great Forest for the night, pitching tents that would hopefully keep them safe from the storms that were sure to plague them.

  After a full day of marching, the storms did just that.

  They hid in the forest, hiding in their tents as the rain beat down on them. Thorald, Merek, Julia, Raven, John and Milly all stayed in the same tent, going over and over the strategy. Merek had multiple backup plans, most of them involving a straight-up battle.

  They were as ready as they ever would be, though Merek wasn’t very sure that meant they were ready.

  Sometime during the night the rain stopped, and Merek and Julia snuck out of the tent. Lighting two torches, he brought her to his cave, which still was mostly untouched after the long months he had been away.

  “You lived here?” Julia said, casting a torch around so she could see. The furs had been torn and the wood was lying in disorder, but it wasn’t too bad.

  “I did. For months. It was actually very nice.”

  “Is that grass?”

  Merek followed her faze to the bed, which still had grass holding it together. The grass was wilting and brown by now, but it was still clearly grass.

  “Yes. I had to use whatever I could find.”

  She laughed, smiling at him with a new respect. Merek shifted uncomfortably under her smile.

  “I have a feeling there’s still a lot you haven’t told me.”

  “Not really. Well, not about the forest.”

  “Then what about?”

  Merek huffed, but there was no time to debate it. Especially if he might just die tomorrow, and this was going to be his wife.

  “I’m not from noble blood. I’m not a knight’s son.”