Marysvale (41 page)

Lyman sat a few settings away on my
right. At the far end, on my left, presided Lord Wright, who
analyzed my every movement.

“
Gentlemen,” he said. “May I
present to you…” and, with a little cough, finished, “our Mr. John
Casey.”

Smiles broke out on the men seated at
the table; a few even snickered.

I failed to see what was so humorous,
but gave an awkward smile, which caused Lyman to hiss under his
breath, “You stupid fool, they are laughing at you.”

I felt embarrassed and wanted to kick
him under the table; but as I would have needed an eight foot leg
to do so, decided to keep my peace.

“
Please,” urged Lord Wright,
“let us be courteous to our guest.”

My eyes fell upon the empty chair next
to him. Of course he noticed.

“
Ah, wondering who is
absent, are you?”

Realizing he was actually waiting for
my reply, I answered, “Yes, my lord.”

He explained, “You see, this chair is
reserved for our leader…” He waited for my reaction. When he got
none, he continued, “Who rarely gets the opportunity to join us.
Yet, we set it regardless, as a sign of respect. Now John, we are
all most anxious to learn about you.”

“
There really isn’t much to
tell,” I said.

“
Come now, I believe there
is quite a bit to tell,” said a rather fat man, in an abnormally
high voice.

Apparently, the introductions were only
one way, for no other names were given.

“
Quite right,” agreed the
lord. “However, as I am sure we are all a bit famished, let us dine
before beginning.” And with a clap of his hands, he sent the
servants into action, dishing up plates of food and presenting
them.

The servants started at the far end of
the table and worked their way to me. I surmised that it was
delivered in the order of rank. No grace was offered and the men
simply started to eat when served.

I was last. My plate held roast fowl,
corn, potatoes, freshly baked bread, pumpkin, and a few other
vittles that I wasn’t familiar with, but were delicious,
nonetheless. Some type of strong drink was poured, but I declined.
The last thing I needed tonight was my mind clouded by
spirits.

Conversation bubbled among the men
about troop training, how so and so was doing, and other innocuous
matters. No one addressed me, which suited me fine; so I ate in
silence. When the senior men at the far end of the table had
finished their meals, Lord Wright said loudly, “Perhaps you could
start with where you came from, John?” Signaling that it was time
to start whatever they had in mind.

Sadly, I’d only eaten half of my
food.

They fell quiet, all eyes on
me—although a few continued to eat, including the fat
man.

“
I am from Syre,” I replied
simply.

“
Where do you hail from
originally?” asked a sickly looking, bald man.

The question made my heart stop.
How could they know that I’m not originally from Syre?
For
a split second, I hesitated, but then, responding naturally. I told
them about my first childhood town after leaving the burned out
cabin.

Lord Wright looked amused and asked,
“And do you have any family?”

“
No,” I replied.

“
Come now,” blustered a
feeble, old man, who didn’t look like he had much time left in this
life. “Must we drag everything out of you?”

“
Which we will be happy to
do,” added another in a threatening tone.

“
Now, now,” chided Lord
Wright, “there is no need for that…yet.” Then, addressing me
coolly, added, “But we really must know what you know. I am
particularly interested in your parents. If they are dead, tell us,
how did they die?”

The thought of reliving those
experiences, with this group of swine, was revolting to me; and a
slow anger began to boil deep inside. Carefully, I kept it in
check; and as calmly as I could, I replied, “Both were murdered—my
mother when I was young, and my father six years ago.”

“
How fascinating,” Lord
Wright said pensively.

“
Enough of the charade,”
demanded another elderly man. “He’s done nothing but lie. We’re
wasting our time playing these games. Let’s get on with
it.”

A few of the others nodded their heads
and murmured approval.

“
Yes,” said Lord Wright, “I
quite agree. Let us get to the crux of it all, shall
we?”

I felt confused.

He continued, “We have brought you here
because our leader has taken quite an interest in you. After much
deliberating as a council, we are prepared to offer you a rare
gift.” He paused for effect. “We would be pleased to have you join
us.”

Now I was even more perplexed.
Is
this some kind of trickery?
I thought. I looked around the
room; the others were quiet with stone faces.

“
But why?” I asked, unable
to keep the puzzlement out of my voice.

“
Oh, come now,” countered
the feeble, old man. “Surely you can think of a reason why. Despite
what Lyman thinks, you can’t be that daft.”

I could think of a reason why.
But
there is no way they could know about my gift—they don’t even know
who I am,
I thought.

Lord Wright read the expression on my
face. “Ah, I can see it comes to you.”

My mind raced.
How do they
know?

They waited. I said nothing, mostly
because I didn’t know what to say.

The old man broke the silence, “It is
an admirable quality to give up nothing; but it only works when the
other party isn’t aware of what you are holding back. Good heavens,
man, we know about your special talents.”

Stunned, I asked hesitantly, “How do
you know about that?”

They laughed.

“
There is no need to play
stupid with us,” stated the old man. Then, addressing Lord Wright,
he said, “Merrick, tell him the best part of our offer. Perhaps
that will jog his memory.”

Lord Wright continued, “We know that
your abilities have increased over the years, and that they can
grow even more given proper guidance. Just think of the
possibilities. With your talents, there is nothing we cannot
conquer.” A lust for power filled his eyes and his voice quivered
with excitement. “Imagine all that will be ours. No enemy can hide
from you; every strategy employed against us will fail. The
weaknesses of our foes will be easily plucked from their minds and
exploited. Under our direction, and with you commanding our forces,
we will be unstoppable.”

“
No!” cried Lyman, leaping
to his feet, his face flushed with rage. “That is not what was
agreed.”

“
Sit down,” demanded Lord
Wright, rising to his feet.

Lyman did no such thing. “I will not
serve under his command,” he shrieked.

“
It is not up to you!”
bellowed Lord Wright. “You will do as we say. This is not open for
debate.”

“
He is an imbecilic fool of
a lower class and a coward,” ranted Lyman, his voice getting
shriller.

The anger inside me boiled over, and I
stood up forcefully, sending my heavy chair to the floor in a loud
crash.

The thought came to me that I may be
making a mistake, but I quickly shoved it out of the way with the
images of Lyman shooting Mr. Wolfe, his old body hitting to the
floor, and the blood pooling around him. I thought of Jane and
Hannah, who likely had no idea that their father had been brutally
taken from them.

The room grew quiet; all eyes fell on
me. I even had the attention of the warring father and
son.

“
Let’s discuss who the
coward is, shall we?” I said icily and full of contempt. I
continued, “Who is it that murdered Michael Wolfe?”

“
He was attacking me,”
snapped Lyman.

“
Attacking you?” I laughed.
“Was it when he was standing there unarmed? Or was it when he spit
on you after you shot him in the leg?”

“
I do not have to explain
myself to a foul-smelling, stupid pig like you,” he spat, and gave
a dismissive wave.

Mockingly, I jabbed, “So let’s see if
my slow, stupid mind gets this straight. The mighty Lyman Wright,
with a squad full of trained soldiers, was overwhelmed by an old,
unarmed, defenseless man. You poor thing, how did you
survive?”

Then, throwing all caution to the wind,
I twisted the verbal knife deeper and added spitefully, “No wonder
they want to replace you as commander.”

It was too much an insult for him to
handle, and his face contorted with rage. He let out a
bloodcurdling cry, withdrew his sword, raised it above his head,
and charged.

C
RIES
and orders for Lyman to stop erupted from the men.
I calmly stepped away from the table and faced my enemy.

He streaked across the short space
between us, eyes wide and filled with pure hatred. Drawing close,
he began to slash down with his sword.

That’s when I moved. Spinning a quarter
turn sideways, I rocked my torso back, brought up a cocked leg, and
kicked out hard. The bottom of my boot viciously made contact with
Lyman’s face. His head snapped back; and teeth, blood, and spittle
flew from his mouth. More blood spewed from his nose. The sword
sailed from his hands and clattered to the floor with a metallic
ring; at about the same time, he landed on his back. Moaning, he
slowly rolled over onto his knees and rocked, while clenching his
nose in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

I turned, expecting to incur the wrath
of the council. To my surprise, only a few wore scornful
expressions—most were amused, and some even appeared happy and
entertained at the show.

“
Well done,” said the old
man gleefully, obviously one of those who enjoyed the spectacle.
“You do have a mean streak in you, don’t you? That can be very
useful to us.”

Lord Wright looked downright murderous,
all pretense of kindness gone. “Your decision then,” he said icily.
“Are you joining us?”

I could see they simply wanted my gifts
to satisfy their own lustful desires. Joining them wouldn’t change
anything except make them more powerful. I hated the way they
treated the people of the town, their lawlessness, and their joy in
my crippling Lyman. They had no loyalty, not even to their own. It
didn’t take me long to reply.

“
I’ve seen the misery you’ve
bestowed upon this town; and the thought of helping you spread that
despair is revolting to all my sense of decency.”

“
Think about what you are
saying,” said the old man, now not so merry. “You have just struck
a superior officer, which carries the penalty of death; joining us
will negate that fact. If you refuse, you will die.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “So be
it.”

“
Such a tragic waste of your
gifts,” he sighed. “But if it must be so, then I’m sure Lyman can
arrange a fitting end.”

“
Before you go,” said Lord
Wright. “We simply must learn all that you know.”

“
I’ve told you
everything.”

“
Liar!” he yelled. “You have
deceived us this whole evening. Did you really think that changing
your name would disguise your identity? Do you truly believe that
such a childish trick would fool us?”

“
I have no idea what you are
talking about,” I replied evenly.

He slammed his fists down on the table,
making the dishes bounce. “We all know your name is not John
Casey—it is John Stone! Good heavens, Lyman was right; you really
are a dolt!”

I closed my eyes for a moment, reeling
at his revelation.
Could what he said be true? Or was this just
another trick?

Opening my eyes, I found Wright
studying my expression, his demeanor suddenly changed from rage to
amusement. “She was right. You really do not know anything, do
you?”

I said nothing. My mind was racing,
trying to figure out what everything meant.