Meuric (8 page)

“You are Obadiah of Hal'em and your queen is Jemima of Keze'e. You are both the direct descendants of King Aaron and King Zilpah. Your son, Abram, is the true heir to your throne since both of your bloods flow through his veins. Yet Roz'eli will never allow you to take up your kingship and would happily kill you all in fear that a rebellion could be started in your name. Haran wants you all simply dead so that no others could ever oppose his rule.” Obadiah tensed.

“I have no interest in you, your woman or your child,” the warrior offered a tired smile. He added quickly and calmly, “My orders are simply to take you to safety. It is my hope to take you and your family to Tris'ten in the west of the Kel'akh Nation.”

“That is the end of the world,” gasped Obadiah.

The dark warrior ignored him. “My thinking is that the Ard-ri is the only authority who, so far, has been able to hold off the Roz'eli legions and in theory it is the safest place to bring you.”

“You do not want to keep us and sell us to the highest bidder?” The man sounded almost incredulous. “Who are you? Judging by your black tattoos I thought you to be a hireling of Kel'akh. Who commands you?”

“No one commands me, Your Highness,” responded the warrior, a little too sharply. “My name is Meuric and a man of magick sent me on a quest to save you. Somehow he knew of your plight and he sent me here by
magickal means. Unfortunately he has no way of retrieving us by that same method. He explained to me that some sort of narration has been placed over the whole of the land preventing that.”

Obadiah frowned and looked at his family. “Can we not just leave now and keep moving?”

“Shortly, but I am almost positive that a perimeter of warriors will have been set around this town. We must tread carefully.” The warrior reached out with his mind and felt the insecurity within the man but also the almost overwhelming fear for the safety of his wife and son behind him. Meuric gave him a reassuring touch on his shoulder as he moved past him saying, “Keep an eye on the town. Let me know if anyone moves in our direction.”

The warrior moved towards Jemima then suddenly paused when only a matter of steps away from her. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. It was not a sense of danger that he felt but it was something much more terrifying. The abilities given to him under the tutelage of the Conclave's Council were now gone. The Gifts of Distant Movement, Divining and Feather Light had all left him now. His increased strength and swiftness, his augmented five natural senses and his invulnerability to poisons, disease and injuries had also vanished. He could almost feel his body begin to age. The magick that adorned him in the uniform of the Protectorate began to falter. For all intents and purposes, after one hundred years, he was now once again mortal.

“Is anything wrong?” asked Obadiah.

The warrior shook his head remaining silent, unsure at how his voice would sound if he had spoken. It had been so many decades since he had last felt this way he had almost forgotten what it meant to be human. Meuric took a small unsteady step back and knelt before Jemima. He could feel his Gifts return in strength.

He could see that the child was now asleep on his mother's lap. She had already slipped her arm inside her bland tunic to cover herself up. Jemima then draped a well-worn shawl around her shoulders. He looked to the three he was hired to protect. Still a soldier in his soul, the warrior had a mission to perform. Everything else was secondary to that, even if that meant operating with the possibility of no magick.

Jemima smiled up at him. “Your Gifts will not be taken from you, warrior. They are simply subdued when in close proximity to Abram.”

Meuric looked at her. “You know of my Gifts?”

Jemima nodded. “That is my Gift. Realising and recognising of magick. In truth my Gift has mostly been gone since the conception of my son. At first I did not know what was happening. Obadiah would lose his Gift whenever he came close. We soon suspected what it was when we discovered I was pregnant.” She looked lovingly down at her son. “The first time he was taken away from me my Gift returned. We knew then for sure.”

Meuric nodded and drew in a deep steady breath, relief sinking in. He then asked, “My Lady, are you ready to move? We will need to make our way down the stairs and away from here out into the darkness at some stage soon.” Jemima nodded. The Daw'ra man looked at the sleeping baby. “We must have the babe kept silent. There will be more troops out there waiting for any trying to escape.”

Jemima nodded and uttered in a strong voice, “I can move just as fast and as hard as you can, warrior.”

Meuric smiled. Behind him Obadiah said rather proudly, “It is true. From our earliest age we are taught to fight, ride and study. All in preparation if we ever take back our country.”

“I am more interested in stealth rather than speed right now,” said Meuric. The warrior stood and stepped away from the child. He approached the would-be king. Removing a knife with a long black blade from the leather belt around his waist he reversed it and handed it to Obadiah, grip first. “You may have need of a second weapon and that blade will never dull.” Meuric now wondered if even that was true. Could the child null and void even the magick from the Conclave's metalworkers?

Obadiah's eyes examined it closely. “You do not operate with the Protectorate. Who are you exactly?”

Meuric looked at the would-be future king of Jay'keb. “You know of the Protectorate?”

Obadiah nodded. “We were taught all aspects of the Conclave. As royalty and potential rulers we are entitled to all forms of information.”

“Then think of me as a freelance Knight Protector,” replied Meuric rather sharply.

The man of Kel'akh knew that really did not help as he saw the young father drop his eyes, downcast. After a short moment Obadiah swallowed hard and looked up. There was a look of defiance in his eyes.

“I may not trust you nor know you,” he began. “But it is obvious that you are here to save us, Meuric. I know when people are lying or speaking the truth. We will do what is asked of us.” The would-be king held out his arm. The two men gripped each other's wrist. Obadiah asked, “Of where in Kel'akh?”

“My tribe and kin is mostly gone, Your Highness,” explained the warrior. He was unable to keep an edge of sadness from his tone. “So now I am simply a son of Kel'akh.”

Obadiah nodded and rammed home the dagger into the rope belt at his waist. “You are much like us then.”

Meuric walked to the roof's edge and donned his leather helm once again. Taking his son, Obadiah helped his wife to her feet and together they made their way to the far side of the roof and carefully navigated the stairway leading to the ground. Movement suddenly caught Meuric's eye and he froze. He slowly lowered himself down onto one knee. Seeing what he was doing, the royal couple followed suit.

He turned to Jemima. “Take the child away from me. I may have need of my Gifts.”

He did not mean to sound severe. He would apologise later if he could but for the moment he had to focus on the threat at hand. Whatever it was it was moving very fast and on foot, coming from the direction he was planning to take them out of Ber'ek. As it neared the warrior could see that there were two of them. Whoever they were they were dressed all in black and moved faster than a horse could gallop.

“Stand ready, your Highness,” said Meuric, his tone bleak. “People of power are coming for us.”

X

On one knee, Meuric watched the approaching shadows with expert scrutiny. The figures moved from cover to cover, using the contours of the land well, hiding in dips, crouching behind boulders and fallen trees, never moving for more than a few seconds at a time. His eyes flicked to the Royal Family crouching at the opposite side of the roof to him.

Obadiah knelt in front of his wife and child protectively, his two daggers drawn and ready to be used. The Kel'akh warrior did not need the use of his Gifts to feel the fear and tension rise from the two adults. His plan was simple. To stay low, to wait and to watch. If they proved to belong to the enemy, and if there was no way of bypassing them, he would attack from above. With speed and surprise on his side he hoped that there would be not much of a fight. Meuric slowly drew his two swords from his back and prepared for battle.

The figures, sprinting at an inhuman speed, abruptly slowed as they neared the building that Meuric and the family hid upon, as if they knew exactly where to go. It was obvious now that they were both Protectors, true Knights of the Protectorate, but only one could be of Jay'keb he knew, unless their charter had changed in recent years. He surmised that the second Knight Protector must belong to Wardens Keep. Only when leading a troop of soldiers from the Conclave's home, in support of a resident Knight Protector, were these elite warriors ever allowed to band together. In addition, it had to be strictly temporary. He could see now that one was male and one was female judging by their builds and the contours of their body armour. The question that was raised for Meuric now was whether they had come to assist him or to stop him.

Meuric stood and the figures looked up, noting the two unsheathed swords of the Kel'akh warrior. Instead of drawing their own swords though, the figures instead opened wide their arms. Meuric indicated that they should join them and as one the two Knight Protectors raced up the sand and mud cut steps. At the top of the steps they found Meuric standing between them and the young family.

“I was not aware that the Council had sent another Knight,” said the male figure looking from Meuric then to his female counterpart.

“They could not,” said the woman flatly, her voice on edge. “If the Council wanted to it would still not be permissible.”

“The Council did not send me,” confirmed Meuric coldly.

He studied the figures, noting how they instantly tensed at the sound of his voice. They must have known his accent belonged to someone who resided in the Kel'akh Nation. They would also know that it was Radha who was the current Knight Protector of the Kel'akh. Meuric thought though that he recognised the man's voice as that belonging to an old friend but he could not be sure. The helm disguised his voice as much as his own and it had been some years since he had last seen him.

“You are the hand-over Meuric of Kel'akh,” stated the woman, her tone scathing.

Meuric nodded, anger rising in him. He thought he faintly noticed the man on the right relax ever so slightly. “I would know your name, Knight Protectors?”

“I am David of Jay'keb,” said the man.

The woman quickly followed with, “Zuleika, Knight Lieutenant of the Protectorate.”

Meuric ignored her and looked at the male warrior. “It has been a while, David.”

The Knight Protector stepped forward and extended his arm. “Well met, Meuric.”

The man from the Daw'ra tribe paused for a moment, his mind scrambling through different scenarios, wondering if David was still really an ally. Amidst the Protectorate he was nicknamed “sword master” because of his prowess with a blade. The Jay'keb Knight Protector was not someone to underestimate. Meuric reached out with his mind sensing no malice or guile from him, though the woman was a different matter entirely. He sheathed his swords, all the while keeping an eye on Zuleika to see if she dared to take advantage of the situation. She did nothing.

“Do not worry, Your Highnesses,” said Meuric. “We are safe.” He held out his hand and gripped David's arm wrist-to-wrist. “Well met, old friend.”

All three Knights removed their helms. David, Knight Protector of Jay'keb, removed his helm revealing a swarthy-skinned young man with a shaved head. His face was open and friendly, but his eyes were cold like
those of a predator and seemed far too old for someone so young. In a land where almost all natives had brown eyes, his bright blue eyes hinted at the mixed breeding in his family's past.

Zuleika was similar in appearance with her swarthy skin, dark eyes and long silk-like black hair. She was, in short, stunning. Meuric found himself catching his breath while looking at her. At a guess, though he would have said that Zuleika was not from Jay'keb but further east, such as one of the unconquered lands of Pan'iz. The two Protectors bowed stiffly before Obadiah and Jemima. David moved off to take a position where he could keep watch.

It was Zuleika who spoke. “Majesties, in a few moments fifteen of my men will reach us. Five of them will take you east where you will meet up with the remainder of our cohort under the command of First Servant Laban. They will have spare horses with them to carry you. From there they will lead you to Jay'keb where we have the means of escape to Wardens Keep. The remainder of us will stay here for a short time to cover your retreat and then join you when I am sure that all is fine.”

Obadiah frowned. “I do not even know you, my lady, though I know who you represent.” He looked to the former Knight Protector, then to his family. “But Meuric here has already proved himself by saving our lives and leading us to safety. It was his intention to take us to Kel'akh.”

Meuric noticed the would-be king looking to him for reassurance. His mission was to protect the Royal Family and to get them to safety but he had no help in doing that. Not even a ship arranged to take them from Jay'keb. All the man Ladra had managed to do was send him to Jay'keb. It was up to him to track the family to Ber'ek in time to save the Royal Family from any and all immediate danger. The timely arrival of the Knight Protectors had now offered him an opportunity to take them to safety, no matter how he felt about the Council. His eyes fell upon the babe and he remembered the vision of days yet to come and his own two boys now long dead.

“Do as Zuleika says and go with them, Your Highness,” said Meuric. “In truth you can trust these people with your lives.” The thought was a bitter one but he knew that they had a better chance of staying alive by reaching Wardens Keep than by being dragged by him across half the world without any real plan.

“Allow us to take him with us,” proposed Jemima, indicating the Kel'akh warrior and Meuric felt unusually touched by that offer.

“That would be impossible,” said Zuleika rather too directly. “He would not be welcome where we go.”

An uncomfortable silence settled and David cleared his throat. “Meuric will remain here with us for a short time then join us when we rendezvous with you. I promise you that you will all be able to say all your goodbyes.” The sounds of reins, men and heavily breathing horses touched their ears. “That is them now. Let me walk with you.”

He led them away and Meuric looked on as the riders pulled up and saluted David. I should be staying with them, thought the Kel'akh warrior. He reasoned that the greatest danger was from the soldiers in the town but the Knight Protectors had a cohort of highly trained men in soldiery and magick with them. They were more than enough to protect the Royals from Haran's bullyboys. He reached out with his Gift of Divining, ignoring Zuleika who was staring at him. He wanted to hear what David was saying.

It was Obadiah's voice that touched him first. “I hear what you are saying but I would feel safer if Meuric was allowed to accompany us. Our own bodyguards have been murdered. Only he came to our aid and has asked for nothing in return.”

He could hear David suck in a deep breath. “I would like to tell you that he was a man to be trusted. A long time ago I would have said that he could be depended upon above all others.” David shrugged. “Maybe he still is, but these days I hear that he is nothing more than a hireling and to be honest...” David stopped walking and the Royal Family stopped with him. He looked directly at Meuric as if he knew that he was being spied on. “Let me put it to you this way. Technically I am a better swordsman than Meuric and in a training bout I would almost certainly win every time. Nevertheless, if it were a fight to the death Meuric would always defeat me. Do you know why?” Obadiah and Jemima shook their heads. “It is because he would never allow the fact that we were old friends to influence him. There would be no hesitation from him in killing me. If Meuric has an ulterior motive I would rather you were safe before I had to face him.”

Obadiah did not say anything, keeping his thoughts deep. Silently he walked past the Knight Protector and helped his wife to sit upon one of the extra horses brought for them with the help of two soldiers from the
Squadron. David issued orders to another of them and they moved away, the five soldiers creating a ring around the Royal Family.

Alone, the Knight Protector of Jay'keb climbed the steps to the roof and approached Zuleika. Below, the remaining ten men of the cohort took up defensive positions and waited in silence, bucklers and long daggers at the ready. Two of them had bows nocked. Meuric watched David as he took a good look around.

“What is the situation here?” asked the Knight Lieutenant.

Meuric smiled derisively. “I have enemies to the front, possible enemies all around me,” he stared hard at Zuleika. “I am stuck in a foreign land with no obvious way home.” He looked to each of the Knights. “Are you here to kill me?”

“I do not remember you ever being so blunt,” said David offering up one of his own sarcastic grins. “She meant what is our security in relation to the Royal Family?”

“I know what she meant,” snapped Meuric. “We are as safe as we can be. The local militia is moving off to the north searching the rest of the town. This area has already been cleared by them, and seems quiet now. There is no reason why they should be back anytime soon. Now,” he folded his arms and looked at the two Knight Protectors accusingly. “Tell me why the two of you are still here? Is it for me?”

“We are here to secure the retreat of the Royal Family,” answered Zuleika rather flatly.

Meuric snorted derisively. He saw how David looked to Zuleika but said nothing. “You have the family. You could simply go. Besides, the family is a civil matter and outside the realm of the Council's remit. Therefore, I will ask you again. Why are you still here?”

“Tell him,” offered David after a few moments of strained silence. “He used to be one of us and he may have intelligence that we need.” He looked at his companion. “It was not like the Council warned us about him.”

“First things first,” said Zuleika. “We need to deploy our men.” She began to look at the buildings nearby.

“I would think it best to spread your men out to make sure that we are not being flanked. Can I suggest that you place three men at each flank, one of which being a mage, and have two teams of two between us and
them; perhaps one could be an archer with a longbow? We three will take up the centre. Also you should keep them in visual range so they can signal you.”

David smiled at him. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Do not tell us our jobs,” snapped Zuleika. She moved off to the top of the steps and looked down. “Did you hear that?” Meuric presumed that she got a nod because she next said, “Good. Lancer, make it happen.”

“I will take Kaan and Nathan and take the right flank,” said a male voice. Meuric knew that it belonged to someone from E'del.

Zuleika sighed tiredly. “I know better than to argue with you Iacchus. Just be quick.”

“Problems?” asked David.

“Never out on the ground,” answered Zuleika tiredly as she made her way back to them.

David turned then and stepped squarely in front of Meuric. Though shorter in stature Meuric was very aware that his shoulders were broader and he was more heavily muscled. “It is good to see you again, my friend. I have heard stories but I often wondered what had become of you.” He smiled warmly.

Meuric wanted to relax when greeting his old friend but his tone indicated the tension he continued to feel. “Can I ask what will happen to Obadiah and his family?”

It was Zuleika who answered. “First Servant Laban is taking them to the mage Simeon of Jay'keb. He is someone who specialises in the Doorway Narration.”

Meuric raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You are all of a sudden very forthcoming with information.”

“The Council has just given me permission to tell you everything,” clarified the Knight Lieutenant, though clearly not happy with the order. “The reason we are here still is because there is a rumour of a dark force also hunting the family. A mage of immense power is all we were told. Possibly even a goddess. We do not even know the identity of the mage. Our orders are to hold here for a wee while and gain any intelligence on this mage if he or she turns up.”

Meuric grudgingly nodded his thanks. Zuleika had used the Link to communicate with the Council, a form of silent communication that was part of the magick imbued to each member of the Protectorate. His had long ceased to function.

Meuric moved off to the northern edge of the rooftop and crouched down. He invited the other two Knights to join him with a small distance between them, effectively spreading out across the roof. He looked to the left and right and spotted that the Protectors' small force had already reached and set up their observation positions on nearby rooftops.

“Do you know what caused the loss of our powers?” asked David suddenly. “Was it one of the Royal Family?”

The Kel'akh warrior nodded. “It was the child.” He was silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I was sent here to protect the family but I got the real sense that it was the child that was the more important one.”