Merek's Ascendance (7 page)

“Run,” he said
as he picked up his staff and gestured to the forest. It was maybe a mile away. “Run!”

Thorald followed his lead, even though running wasn’t exactly possible for either man. They more jogged at a quick pace, hobbling as their legs screamed in protest and their lungs burned with pain.
Fear and the need to survive pushed them forward as the storm came ever closer, tearing up everything in its path. Merek couldn’t begin to gauge how wide across the clouds were, but if he had to guess (as if he had time for guessing) it was about three cottages wide.

As soon as he realized it, he hobbled just a little bit faster.

They made it to the forest with moments to spare, but the tornado was still chasing them.

“Now what?” Thorald wheezed, hunched over with his hands on his knees.

“This way,” Merek replied, heading towards his cave. While he didn’t want anyone to know where it was, he trusted Thorald. The man could have just let him fall down the ravine, but instead he had saved him.

It was good enough for Merek.

They ran through the trees even as the rain started falling on them. The liquid energized them as they ran, though it only meant that the storm was closing in on them.

Then, finally, they were at the base of the cliff.

“Follow me,” Merek said as he started to climb. This climb was much easier; his hill wasn’t a straight drop.

The rain fell with determination now, soaking t
hem to the bone within seconds. The climb soon became treacherous as the ground became slick. More than once, Merek had to stop to give Thorald a hand up. And more than once, Merek had to be caught by Thorald when his grip slipped.

Working
together, the pair made it to Merek’s cave. Merek waved his companion through, and Thorald headed in without hesitation. Thorald was larger than Merek, but he was still able to fit through the opening. Merek followed him just as a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree.

Inside the cave, the sound of the storm receded slightly, and it was still as dry as ever.

“This is a nice little spot. Yours?”

“I suppose,” Merek replied, flopping down on the floor.
He only rested for a moment before getting up and moving to his pile of wood. The sooner he got a fire going, the sooner he would be able to dry off.

To his surprise and relief, Thorald helped.
It turned out the diplomat knew a good deal about making fires, and within a few minutes they got a decent blaze going. Merek gave Thorald his blanket, while he used the sleeping area as one himself.

“And think,
it’s not even noon yet.”

“Is the weather always like this?”
Thorald asked as he shivered.

“It comes and goes. Some days are perfectly beautiful. Some days…
some days are this. It’s all just luck of the draw.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“A few months now. It’s been quite the experience.”

“I’ll bet. I don’t suppose you know where the castle is, do you?”

“Not from here, sorry. But I do know where Tules and Fodina are. I can take you to one of those when the storm passes.”

“That’
s very kind of you,” Thorald said, sounding genuinely impressed.

Merek simply shrugged.

The two of them sat in silence for a long while, listening to the rampaging storm. It wasn’t until the worst of it was over that Merek spoke again.

“So what was your assignment
in…”

“
Grevoria. I went to enter peace talks. There have been some hostilities lately, and we wanted to make sure both kingdoms knew where the other stood.”

“How’d that go?”

Thorald shrugged, though his brow furrowed.

“So so?” Merek suggested.

“I’m not sure they want peace. I fear they see us as weak, and will try to exploit that weakness. Then there will be blood, and… I don’t want to see any more blood spilled.”

Merek nodded his understanding.

“So… Merek. That’s a nice name. What’s your surname, if I may ask?”

Merek pondered it for a moment before replying, “I don’t have one.”

“What?”

“My surname is the one that my father bears, and
he and I will, with any luck, never speak again. All in all, I have no surname. I guess I should be looking for a new one.”

“That’s quite sad to hear. You two don’
t get along?”

“We never have,” Merek said, trying to make himself quit speaking. But he had never told another living soul anything before; he’d never had the chance.
Now, with someone flesh and blood to speak to, he couldn’t stop himself.

“
I don’t think he – or my mother, for that matter – ever actually wanted children. They wanted a farm worker, and I guess they figured if they gave birth to a child, they’d have a worker for free.”

“So your father was a farmer?”

“For a time. Then when I was old enough to work it alone, he resumed his normal duties.”

“So you worked an entire farm by yourself?”

Merek shrugged. “Small farm.”

“I am truly sorry,” Thorald said, but Merek simply shrugged again.

“I appreciate it, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. That was before. Now, I can be free of all of that. And apparently do some good, as well. Though that certainly wasn’t expected. But enough of me, tell me. How did you come to be a messenger of peace?”

Now it was Thorald’s turn to shrug. “
I volunteered. My father thought it best as a sign of good faith. The journey was a long one, or he would have made it himself. Besides, I have some skill in an ambassadorial role. I just wish they actually had any interest in what I had to say.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Why would they want war?”

“I wish I knew. It’s the King I’m most worried about. Perhaps he just wants violence. Perhaps he wants our treasury. I can’t really say.”

They lapsed into silence
, listening again to the storm.

“Will you come back to the castle with me?” Thorald asked, “I’d love to introduce you to my father. I’m sure he’ll reward you for saving my life.”

Merek simply smiled. Rewards were something for other people, more deserving people. “I wouldn’t mind a good dinner. Catching my own is well and good, but I wouldn’t mind someone else to make it for me.”

Thorald seemed genuinely confused. “Is that all?”

Merek hesitated for a moment, organizing his thoughts. “I believe people should get rewarded for the good deeds they do, for the right things they do. But not… not a lot. Not…”

“Extravagantly?”

“Mhm,” Merek replied, though he didn’t know what that word meant. He guessed ‘a lot.’

“I didn’t go down there for thought of reward, I went down there because
I thought maybe I could help. And I guess I did a bit.”

“A bit? I’d be dead if not for you.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m deserving of anything. I did what was right. Nothing more.”

“Nothing less,” Thorald replied. Merek said nothing else, and they lapsed into silence for the final time.

The storm was long in passing, so long that Merek and Thorald were dry by the time the sun shone again.
Merek looked out at the sky, seeing the storm heading off to the huge body of water.

“I think we should be safe to head out now. At least, as safe as this weather ever permits us to be.”

Thorald chuckled, following him out of the cave. Merek grabbed his staff before departing.

“Do you have a sword?” Thorald asked as they climbed down the hill.

“No,” Merek replied, “I never learned how to use one.”

“That’s strange,” Thorald said, “perhaps I could teach you sometime.”

“You a sword master, sir?”

“
No, not a master by any means. But decent enough, I would say.”

“Well, if you’re willing to teach, I’d be happy to learn.”

The journey to Tules was short, as Merek had visited it under cover of twilight multiple times. Tules was a small village, with a couple handfuls of cozy, well-built cottages all surrounded by a tall stone wall. Smoke leaked from chimneys across the village, and children could be seen playing with each other in the streets.

Upon entering,
Thorald was greeted by the town guard, who seemed overjoyed at seeing him and incredibly thankful to Merek for finding him. Merek simply smiled and nodded, not knowing how else to react.

“Transportation will be made available right away, sir,” one of the guards said. He was dressed
in the typical purple armor of a guard, and on his back was a shield with the same tiger drawn on it. His face, like all guards, was covered in a metal mask that completely hid his features.

“That would be welcome,” Thorald said, with a bow of his head.

Merek and Thorald followed the guards to a nearby stable, where a cart was being readied.

“I’m sorry, sir, we have no better arrangements at the moment,” the cart driver said when Thorald came into view.

“This will do just fine,” Thorald said with a smile, “anything at all is most welcome. I’ll see that the fee is paid when we reach the castle.”

“
Oh no sir, that’s quite unnecessary.”

“I do believe you have a family to feed?” Thorald said with a stern look.

“I… yes sir.”

“Then you will receive your payment, as is your due, when we reach the castle. I would pay you now, but I’m a bit out of sorts, it seems.”

The driver simply smiled before motioning them both on to the cart. Merek hesitated for a moment. If he got on that cart, there would be no telling what would happen. He might never be able to come back.

He might not want to.

“Come on then,” Thorald said, jarring Merek free from his thought, “we didn’t come this far just for you to stay now.”

Merek nodded, steeling himself. Then he climbed aboard and sat across from Thorald.

“And we’re off!” the driver yelled, flicking the reins.

Chapter 7: Knight of Wentana

              The journey took them several hours, but they passed the time by talking amiably about whatever topic that came to mind. Thorald was very interested in how Merek had survived in the forest on his own, while Merek was interested in the many different lands Thorald had seen. They even quizzed the driver on occasion, and laughed as the older man burst into song.

             
It turned out Thorald was only two years older than Merek, which Merek thought was quite impressive. In turn, Thorald thought it impressive that a seventeen year old had managed to live on his own for so long. Or course, Merek could have been eighteen by now, he didn’t know.

             
Thorald was also incredibly curious about Merek’s past, which Merek was less than enthused to talk about as the hours waned. Thorald wasn’t rude about it, he was more curious for the sake of understanding Merek.

             
“So… what did your mother
do
all day?”

             
“You know, I never did figure that out. Maybe she just slept. I know she darned clothes – badly – and she occasionally made food, but I’m really not sure. We used to have animals on the farm, but they were either sold or chopped up for food.”

             
“That’s… that’s abhorrent.”

             
Merek was careful not to let on the fact that he had no idea what that word meant, instead looking off into the distance. Luckily for him, something very distracting came into view.

             
Distracting and breathtaking.

             
The castle came into view past a rock covered hill, and in the twilight the castle looked as if it had been painted in flame. White stone shone out from the towers, and the same stone composed the main wall. The wall had to be at least thirty feet tall, with soldiers stationed on the battlements.

             
Then there was the drawbridge.

             
It was a giant wooden gate with drawings of animals and carvings of symbols Merek didn’t recognize adorning it.

             
And that was just the outside.

             
As they passed under the archway that was huge enough on its own, Merek was in awe of what was inside the castle. An open courtyard greeted them, the people in it literally, as they passed by. There was a tree directly in the middle, a fully grown tree that’s leaves were turning in the autumn. Off to both the left and right were waterways, cycling water through the castle.

             
It was amazing.

             
“You look like you’ve never seen anything so amazing before.”

             
Merek realized Thorald was watching him, and he had forgotten to drop his customary blank look into place.

             
Then he realized he didn’t want to.

             
“I haven’t,” he replied.

             
“Welcome to Castle Wentana.”

             
The cart pulled to a stop, and the pair disembarked. Word of their approach must have spread, because there was practically an entire host of people waiting for Thorald. Merek hung back with the driver, absently petting the horse.

             
Without a word of greeting, Thorald held up his hand, palm open. Almost immediately, a bag flew to meet it. The two met with a resounding clap, and Merek could hear the jingle of coins.

             
“Thank you, Father,” Thorald said, bowing his head. Merek followed his gaze back to the thrower, and his jaw dropped. The man was draped in rich, purple and white robes with graying hair and a goatee that matched his sons. He also wore a crown on his head that was made of gold, simply a band that wrapped around his head.

             
Even Merek had heard stories of this person.

             
It was Wentana’s High King, King Tyrigg. Which, unless Merek was terribly wrong, made Thorald the prince.

             
Merek slid his mask of blankness on in order to buy himself time to think. If Thorald was the prince, what would happen to him? He had hardly expressed good manners. He hadn’t acted as a barbarian, but wasn’t he supposed to bow? Say ‘sir’ all the time? Never speak out of turn? The self-professed king of Merek’s old life certainly seemed to think so…

             
“And who is your friend?” the deep voice of the king said, strong enough yet quiet enough to break into Merek’s thoughts without even trying.

             
“This father,” Thorald replied, “is Merek. He rescued me from the Eastern Plains. And… I’m sorry to report no one else survived. A bridge gave out and we fell… Grevin died to spare me, Father.”

             
“They will be given a proper funeral,” the King replied immediately. “Where are their bodies?”

             
“In a ravine in the plains… it will be quite the task to get home.”

             
“A task we shall rise to,” King Tyrigg replied, placing a hand on his son’s arm. “I am just glad you have returned my son, though I too wish it were under better circumstances. But you have found someone to help ease the burden. Come forth, Merek.”

             
Merek did as he was told, hoping his nervousness wasn’t blankly obvious.

             
“So, you saved my son’s life.”

             
“Yes, sir,” was all Merek could reply.

             
“And for that, I thank you. What would you name as reward?”

             
Merek took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of his nerve. “Just a hot meal, sir. And perhaps a bed to rest the night.”

             
There was laughter from the onlookers, but the King new very well that Merek wasn’t joking. A half smile crept up his face, a smile of approval.

             
“He’s not joking,” Thorald said to Tyrigg, “I asked him much the same thing, and that was his answer.”

             
“Then a hot meal and a bed is what he will receive. Then tomorrow we shall see about the reward he truly deserves.”

             
Merek looked up, confused and worried. Thorald’s laughter did nothing to dispel this fear, but when Thorald beckoned him to follow, Merek dutifully did so.

             
“So tell me, how did negotiations go?” King Tyrigg asked the moment the three of them were alone.

             
“Not well, I’m afraid. He practically sneered at me when I arrived, and all but admitted to pushing into our territory, terrorizing our citizens. Honestly, Father… I think he’s trying to goad us into war.”

             
“Then war is exactly what we will not do. Even if we cannot achieve true peace, a staggering silence will suffice for now.”

             
“Yes, Father.”

             
“So, Merek. Who was your father?”

             
Merek knew the question had to be coming, but he still wasn’t prepared for it. “Harold, sir. Harold Quinn.”

             
“You say it with disdain.”

             
“He and I… we never saw eye to eye.”

             
“Fathers can be stupid,” Tyrigg said knowledgably. Merek didn’t trust himself enough to respond. “But, I’m sure he made a fine knight in his kingdom. Just as you will make a fine knight in ours.”

             
It took Merek a full five seconds to register the gravity of such a simple few sentences. His father, a knight? Laughable. Impossible.

             
“I’m sorry?” Merek replied when he found his voice again.

             
“To survive on your own in the forest for so long? Thorald thinks, and I agree, that you must have warrior’s blood. I believe you will make a fine addition to the protectors of the realm. That is, if you accept.”

             
Merek looked at Thorald, who was simply smiling. Merek didn’t understand the bond that had formed so quickly between them, but apparently it was pushing Merek to some unknown height.

             
Or an unknown depth if he was unworthy of it.

             
“Or course, sir. It would be my honor.”

             
Both Thorald and Tyrigg seemed satisfied, even though Merek wasn’t even sure he had said the phrase correctly. He hadn’t memorized everything the knights said to each other when he watched them…

             
And he was about to become one of them.

             
Merek’s breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t speak as they entered into the dining hall. The Grand Hall, Thorald called it, was a simply a giant room with ten windows every five feet. There were long tables and chairs, and up a few steps, towards the front of the room, was a table with several chairs overlooking the rest of the hall. It was there that they sat, even though Merek felt wholly undeserving to even be there. A simple meal was already prepared for them, with people seated by the table.

             
“Sit here, Merek,” Thorald said, indicating the seat to his right. Tyrigg sat at the head of the table, and his son to his right. Merek took his assigned seat and sat with as much dignity as he could muster, setting his staff on the floor beside him.

             
It amounted in him sitting down without falling over. That was about it.

             
“Well, the food isn’t going to get any more cooked,” Tyrigg said with a wide smile, “eat.”

             
No one hesitated, chatting happily with each other as they took portions of the varied foods in front of them. Merek felt as if he was naked, seeing as everyone else was dressed in robes and dresses of various colors and designs, and he was dressed in a badly sewn set of furs and coat. It was easier to push aside his complete embarrassment by focusing on the food. Merek didn’t even recognize most of it, only knowing it all smelled wonderful.

             
“Is it impolite if I eat a little bit of everything?” Merek whispered to Thorald.

             
“Not at all,” Thorald laughed. “When was the last time you had actual food?”

             
Merek shrugged, playing that he couldn’t remember.

             
Never.

             
So Merek did just what he wanted, and took a small bit of everything within reach. It was all delicious, from the juicier meats to the sweeter breads, everything tasted as if actual concern was in the ingredients list.

             
But the food was nothing compared to the woman sitting across from him. She was dressed in a deep green dress that made her matching eyes shine, and her red hair flowed in long curls down her back. Merek did his best not to stare, but it was very difficult. He had never seen a woman so simply lovely. Her face was gentle, and when she laughed, often at amusement of Merek’s constant confusion, her whole face seemed to glow.

             
She wasn’t the physically appealing woman at the table, but Merek thought she was the most beautiful.

             
He shook himself when he realized he was staring again, and she clearly noticed. She didn’t seem to mind, smiling even as Thorald elbowed Merek. Merek looked at him, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question, but Thorald rolled his eyes. Even Tyrigg seemed to know exactly what was going on, and was heartily amused by it.

             
Merek had never felt his face go as red as he looked down at his food, even as he smiled too.

             
Was this… was this what actual family felt like? It was weird. But not unwelcome.

             
Then the mood was shattered.

             
A blood curdling scream rang through the window, and Merek was moving in an instant. He picked up his staff and darted to the window, looking down at the street only ten or fifteen feet below. He saw a woman on the ground, her hand raised above her in a wordless defense as a man bore down on her, knife in hand. Merek subconsciously reached for his own hunting knife before realizing it wasn’t there. He must have lost it.

             
“Guards!” Thorald yelled, turning to the ones present.

             
“No time,” Merek said, and before he could think about what he was going he flung himself from the window.

             
He didn’t know what made him do it. He never even stopped to think about it. All that he could think about was the four feet between life and death, and he had to do something.

             
Merek and the knife-wielder collided with a lackluster crash, the only sound coming from their exclamations of pain. Merek rolled to his feet, staff at the ready, as the other man did the same with his knife.