Merek's Ascendance Page 4

  “And bears make it look so easy.”

  Then he realized that bears waited for the fish to come to them, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

  “I need a better trap. Well, tomorrow I need a better trap. Today, I need to catch some fish.” Looking around again, he decided he needed to attach the rock to the staff. He looked down at his wounded leg, which had been scrubbed clean by the rushing water. His leaf-bandage had been washed away too and the water stung a bit, but that didn’t bother him much.

  “I wonder if I can’t tie you up with leaves?” he asked the two items he had in his possession.

  Thirty minutes later, he had done just that. It wasn’t a very stable connection, but it should at least last long enough for him to snag a fish.

  “Let’s test you out, shall we?”

  The good news was that it worked perfectly. He stood still, waiting for the first fish to swim into his trap. The moment it did, the moment it stopped to wonder why there were rocks in its way, Merek plunged his makeshift spear into its body.

  The bad news was that the force of the blow broke the leaf-tie, so staff and stone split apart.

  Merek simply rolled his eyes before collecting his prize. It looked like he was going to need a lot more leaves.

  “First things first, however… how do you build a fire?”

  This time, no easy answer came to him. Of his many sojourns into the forest, making fires had never been a practice he used. With an exasperated sigh, he began to pace as he tied up more leaves, thinking hard.

  “Well, what did Mother and Father use? Wood, obviously. I need dry wood. A lot of dry wood. But how to make the wood burn? Father uses a piece of metal, makes sparks. I don’t have any metal. But maybe…”

  The sun was beginning to set by the time Merek found two rocks that actually worked together, and enough sticks and twigs and dried leaves to convince him that his plan might stand a chance. He had never seen it done before, but rocks were incredibly solid and he couldn’t think of anything else that might work.

  So he was understandably shocked when the rocks sparked. It wasn’t easy, and there weren’t enough sparks to light the mess of dried wood, but still. Sparks. It wasn’t until Merek scraped the rocks together quickly that they sparked enough to finally light a tiny flame.

  Which Merek promptly blew out due to his excitement.

  He tried again, lighting the twigs and eternally throwing more on. The sticks caught and the fire grew in strength, prompting Merek to collect bigger sticks to feed it.

  Finally, when the moon was in the sky, Merek put the fish on a stick and roasted it on the fire.

  “I made a fire,” he remarked, “it’s little and terrible and took me hours, but I made a fire. So there’s something.”

  Merek had no idea how long to wait until the fish was cooked, so he checked it every now and again. It seemed to drag on for days, until finally Merek was tired of waiting and took a bite out of it.

  It was yet another bad decision.

  He hacked, the taste so revolting he almost threw up the little there was in his belly. The skin tasted okay, but there was something under that layer that rolled on his tongue like a slimy bean.

  Once he was done retching, Merek took his rock and cut open the fish. The head didn’t seem to have anything tasty in it, so he cut that off and tossed it aside. The skin was strange and kind of slippery, but it was, after all, a fish. Under the skin… was that blood? And what Merek was going to assume was fat.

  “That explains the slimy taste. Disgusting.”

  But under all that, there was a bit of meat there. Merek carved it out and started eating it, smiling as the food traveled down his throat. Finally, real food after who knew how long of nothing. He choked on a bone or two, but it was nothing serious.

  “So, new plan. Build a better trap, and get into the good part of the fish before eating it. Sounds like tomorrow’s going to be busy.”

  Letting the fire burn into the night, Merek settled himself into a nest of leaves and promptly fell asleep. He might do a bit of exploring tomorrow as well, see if he couldn’t find any civilization anywhere.

  He fell deeply asleep about three seconds before the wind started to howl.

  Chapter Four: Furry Friends

  Merek’s first thought was that he had wet himself.

  Such an event hadn’t happened in years, not since he was very young and his father didn’t let him drink anything for two days afterwards. So he was quite surprised when he felt liquid around his midriff.

  Then he woke up, and realized exactly what the problem was.

  It was raining, first of all, though he was sheltered from most of it by the trees. The stream, however, had no such shelter and the added water caused the stream to overrun its banks. Thinking quickly, Merek grabbed his staff and stone, backing away from the approaching water.

  “Well…” he said thoughtfully, “that could have been about a hundred times worse.”

  He should have known better.

  The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. And, as chance would have it, nature was going to make him regret them too.

  The rain started to fall harder. It wasn’t a torrent, not yet, but soon it would be.

  “I’d best make for the cave,” Merek told his legs, and he started running in what he sincerely hoped was the right direction. He was pretty sure, but this forest was new to him and there really was no telling exactly where he was going. All he could do was put his head down and run.

  Then he heard it.

  A pained growl, a cry of help, sounded from the forest. Merek could almost trace the sound, but the wind was starting to howl and it threw him off. At the same moment, a strike of lightning sounded nearby, followed by a tumultuous crash.

  “I’m outside in a lightning storm. Again. Why did I leave home again?”

  On one side, there were the bears, he was sure of it. But they were in the exact opposite direction of shelter.

  Merek stood there, torn such as he had never been before. His desire to live battled with his desire to protect those innocent bears.

  The former never really stood a chance.

  He ran, trying to hear through the wind and see through the rain to figure out where his impromptu friends were. They were still howling, but it was distorted.

  I don’t suppose you could growl a little clearer, could you?

  In answer, the growls stopped completely.

  Merek stopped running, holding the stitch in his side that was breathing fire into his abdomen. There was no sign of the bears, no sign of shelter, and the rain was only getting worse. He lifted both hands and put them on his head, so very lost. More lost than he had ever been in in his life.

  What was he doing out there in the rain? What was he doing alone and so very far away from home?

  Then he remembered what ‘home’ was, and his head dropped. Maybe it would just be better if he let the storm swallow him. The rain beat against his back, but he couldn’t feel it anymore.

  He couldn’t feel very much anymore.

  Then a loud, clear roar split the night, and Merek grabbed on to the sound like a lifeline. He ran towards it, pushing everything else aside. If he could just save the bears, if he could just do this one thing right…

  Maybe everything that came before wouldn’t be so bad.

  He ran for only a few more yards before stopping at the source of the sound. His jaw dropped so far his mouth started filling with rain.

  The bears were caught in a trap.

  “How did this happen?” Merek said as he examined it. They were somehow trapped in a net that was suspended by the trees above, keeping the bears in their place through the storm.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay! I’ll get you out of there!”

  Merek rushed forward, fighting off the wind and the rain to get to his impromptu friends. His first instinct was to grab the rope and cut it loose, but he shelved that impulse once he realized that the fall would do seriou
s damage to the bears, not to mention getting up to where the rope was ties would be tricky at best. That meant he only had one option available.

  He went to the ropes and started cutting them. The ropes were thick and his stone was far from a knife, but it was working through.

  Then, naturally, everything went sour.

  A lightning bolt struck a tree nearby, Merek could see the flash. He heard the power as it smashed into the tree.

  He still never knew what hit him.

  He saw the world flash around him, as if he was flying. He saw it spin in circles, belatedly realizing he was rolling down a hill. When he finally came to rest, nothing but his breathing was obeying his commands.

  It was the only thing still working when Merek faded from consciousness.

  At least it wasn’t raining when he woke up. The overcast sky still threatened more, he couldn’t hear anything and he felt sore down to his very bones, but it was not raining.

  Small favors.

  He was so tired, so drained, he didn’t have the strength to voice the thought aloud. He wanted to roll over and pass out again, but fainting wasn’t really a true sleep. Each time (as embarrassing as it was to admit in only two days) he woke up feeling more tired than when he had fallen.

  And there were the bears.

  His head shot up as far as his pain would allow – two inches – as he remembered. The bears were caught in some kind of trap. He tried to move his legs, but their attention was apparently elsewhere. His arms were about as useless, even though Merek was silently impressed that he hadn’t dropped either his staff or his stone.

  Fat lot of good that does me.

  He took a few deep breaths, summoning the last vestiges of strength he had. He couldn’t just lay there, he had to get moving. He had to save those bears. He couldn’t figure out what it was that connected him to them, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he do something. He clenched his fist, swearing to himself that he would channel everything he had to fight for them.

  It earned him the ability to roll on his side.

  Refusing to be discouraged, Merek stretched out an injured arm to the hillside. Digging his rock into the dirt, he started the slow ascent up the hill. His other hand, bereft of any fingers by the staff, simply smashed into the wet ground for purchase.

  I can just imagine Father. Yelling that I’m too weak. Too tired. I don’t deserve to save them. I’ll fail. I always fail. I’ve always failed you, and Mother. That’s what you’ve always said, right Father? And maybe you’re right.

  But not this time.

  He didn’t know what made him do it. He couldn’t pretend to know where he found the strength. But little by little, he crawled up the hill. His muscles burned, screaming in protest, but they followed his will anyway. He could barely keep his eyes open and his jaw shut, as all of his effort was being put into moving. Sweat poured down his body, the dirt sticking to him as he climbed.

  If there was anyone around, they would have been impressed that he actually made it. Merek was simply angry at himself for taking so long, and he tried to make up for it by pushing himself to his feet. He failed, and only managed to get to his knees.

  It was enough for him to see what he needed.

  The bears were gone, the net that held them gone too. The pain subsided long enough for Merek to crawl towards the spot where they so recently hung. His chest was burning, as if he had taken a kick from a mule.

  Getting struck by lightning… is… fun.

  The pain subsided a bit more, allowing him to finally stand up. He stood hunched, his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths as he tried to soothe his ravaged head. There was a hunter in the woods, no doubt. Probably two. The arrows… that was amateur work. His father would do something like that when he hunted animals he shouldn’t.

  The net, however… that was professional. Merek couldn’t know for sure, he had never seen a professional at work, but there was no mistaking it.

  “What… what am I supposed to do?” Merek panted, slowly straightening to his full height. “They’re probably long gone.”

  He looked down and saw the grass was all leveled, as if something large had crushed it. His gaze then shifted, following where the grass was crushed in a distinct trail. Wheels, if he wasn’t very much mistaken.

  “Then again…”

  Merek hesitated, wondering if he should go. What could he do against a professional poacher?

  Probably not much.

  Merek shrugged, accepting it. No, he probably couldn’t do much.

  He followed the trail anyway.

  “I’m used to failing. What’s one more time, really?”

  With that, Merek shrugged and followed the trail. He had no idea where it would lead him, but maybe he wasn’t too late.

  “Even if I’m not,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “what am I going to do against a poacher?” They probably had weapons, training. All he had was a stick and a rock. Nothing even remotely intimidating.

  So we’ll have to be smart, Merek thought as he started to move a little faster. The pain was fading away the more he moved. At least there was some good news. Now all he had to do was hope the poacher was at least as forgiving as his tired limbs were.

  He almost laughed.

  His legs returned to some of their former strength, and he started to jog. There was nothing yet to prove he was following the right track, but the grass still led him on.

  Then the trail stopped. Though that was okay, considering where the grassy trail ended an actual trail began. It was just grass mowed down by the abuse of travel carts and feet, but still. It was an actual path.

  Now he just had to figure out which way to go. He didn’t have the time to go down both, and he had no idea where he even was. With no clues to follow, he didn’t know which to choose.

  For the first time in quite some time, fortune smiled down on him. He heard a horse’s whinny to his left, followed by the squeak of wooden wheels. A cart of some kind, no doubt. Merek didn’t need telling twice, and he sprinted towards the sound. It was only when the cart came into view and he saw his quarry that he pushed back into the trees.

  The bears were trapped on that cart in a cage. There was one bandit on the cart, whistling as a horse pulled it.

  Now all he had to do was somehow free the bears from their imprisonment.

  I wonder, he thought as he ran, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the noise of the forest, if I would be trying so hard if this was a deer. Something people usually eat.

  He was forced to admit that he probably wouldn’t, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

  Merek shook his head, pushing away the thought. It didn’t really matter now. What did matter was the cage the bears were locked in had a pretty impressive lock of its own. If he couldn’t get that lock off, he had no chance of freeing the bears.

  Even then, he only had a very little chance of freeing them.

  It wasn’t until he broke from the forest and vaulted onto the cage, somehow avoiding the driver’s attention, that he realized what exactly he was doing. Adrenaline had cancelled it out, had allowed him to ignore it, but suddenly it hit him in the chest harder than the lightning bolt had.

  He was terrified.

  His hands, still holding tightly to his only possessions, shook as he held on to the cage, threatening to throw him to the ground. His legs shook, though he would love to pretend it was due to exhaustion. His eyes squeezed shut and his breath shortened. His heart felt like a hand had reached into his chest and grabbed hold.

  Then there was the pain. His shoulder started burning from the wound still present there. The cut on his shin was leaking blood again. It took more strength than he had to maintain his grip on the cage, yet somehow he managed.

  But it was all too much. The fear, the pain… it was all swirling in his head, threatening to throw him into a living nightmare. His heart wanted to free the bears, but the rest of him…

  The rest of him just didn’t want to
be hurt again.

  Get a grip.

  He didn’t know where the voice came from or who it belonged to, but he knew it was right. All of his fears and worries were unimportant. All that mattered was the job. All that mattered was his task.

  All that mattered was the bears.

  He pushed his fear down deep, so deep inside himself that it almost wasn’t there. He did the same to the pain, pushing it away until he almost couldn’t feel it.

  Then he focused on the task at hand.

  The lock was rusty, but not rusty enough for Merek to pull it loose. And he couldn’t risk beating at the lock with his stone, mostly because the rock would probably break before the lock would.

  Which meant he somehow had to get the key.

  He gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing. So be it.

  Merek climbed to the top of the cage, balancing on the shaky surface. He lay low, trying to keep from drawing any attention to himself as he crept closer to the poacher.

  “We climbed hiiiigh to the darkest looow, where we deciiiide where to spend our goooold…”

  Merek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the poacher’s song, unable to decipher any meaning behind the lyrics. But his singing certainly helped cover Merek, as did whatever the poacher was drinking. He seemed blissfully unaware that there was another person on his cart.

  At least, that was until the poacher threw the bottle behind him and it smacked Merek right in the nose. He didn’t cry out even as his eyes watered, but the sound was unmistakable. The poacher whirled around before Merek could react, and suddenly Merek was staring at a very angry black bearded man.

  “Um. Hi. I’m trying to work my way across the country be selling… grits.”

  The poacher probably thought Merek was crazy. He wasn’t the only one.

  He pulled the horse to a stop, standing in his seat to get at Merek. Merek backed away, barely eluding the poacher’s hands.

  “What do you think you’re doing, child?”

  “I just said I’m trying to sell you…”