Merek's Ascendance (11 page)

             
“No.”

             
Merek laughed, and then fell into step next to Thorald with a shrug.

             
“And where are we going?”

             
“You’ll see.”

             
They traveled up a staircase and down a hallway, and it didn’t take Merek long to realize he had walked this path before.

             
“The library, right?” Merek said as they walked.

             
“Mhm,” Thorald replied, “best place to learn things.”

             
“I don’t think I can learn to read from something that needs me to read in order to learn,” Merek said.

             
“Of course not,” Thorald laughed, “that’s why I’m going to teach you.”

             
“You… you’d be willing to teach me?”

             
“You saved my life,” was the reply, “and I pay my debts. Besides, and don’t tell anyone I said this, but I love teaching.”

             
“Why wouldn’t I tell someone that? That sounds very noble.”

             
“Could you imagine the chaos? Everyone would want to be taught by the Prince of Wentana.”

             
“Fair enough.”

             
The two entered the library just as an older woman came to the door. She wore a puffy black dress that buttoned up to her throat, and her graying hair was pulled into a tight bun. Wrinkles were forming on her brow, but she still had a nice smile on her face when she saw them approach.

             
“Prince Thorald, back again? It’s your third trip today. I’m afraid I’m locking up for the night,” she said in a somewhat high voice.

             
“Could we just have an hour?” Thorald asked in a higher voice than his usual one. “I’ll lock up once we leave. Just wanted to show my friend around.”

             
“Oh…” she looked stricken, torn between her duty and her familiarity with Thorald.

             
“You know we’ll be careful.”

             
“Well, I know
you
will,” she replied, “but I don’t know about this one,” she finished with a glance at Merek.

             
“If he misbehaves, I’ll give him a good thrashing.”

             
The elderly woman laughed before lightly slapping Thorald’s arm. “Don’t stay too long,” she said as she walked away.

             
“That’s Ms. Knox,” Thorald said as they headed inside, “though I don’t think that’s her real name. I’m not even sure my father knows.”

             
“She’s the… library-in?”

             
Thorald laughed at Merek’s pronunciation, heading to a specific area.

             
“Librarian. One word.”

             
“Librarian.”

             
“Excellent.”

             
Thorald gestured towards a seat, and Merek took it even though he was still very confused and unsure of this whole thing.

             
“All right, first things first. The alphabet.”

             
“Thorald, this isn’t necessary. You don’t owe me anything. Perhaps I should just go.”

             
“Why do you constantly act as if a person doing nice things for you is unprecedented?”

             
Merek was saved from answering the question but a very simply fact.

             
“I don’t know what that means,” he replied with a sigh.

             
Thorald started to laugh, eventually setting several more books down.

             
“We’ve a lot of work to do.”

Work they did, staying for several hours until
long after the moon had risen in the sky. Thorald spoke, and Merek listened. Then Merek repeated. According to Thorald, Merek was like a sponge, absorbing information and repeating it, learning as fast as Thorald could teach. Before they left, Merek had memorized the strange symbols that composed the alphabet.

             
“Next, we’ll actually do something challenging,” Thorald said as he put the books back where he got them from.

             
“What’s that?” Merek replied, feeling that the alphabet was a challenge in and of itself.

             
“Tomorrow, we’ll do sounds.”

             
Merek was more than a little confused. “Sounds?”

             
“What sounds the letters make.”

             
That knowledge fell strangely on Merek’s ears, but he chose not to say anything. He’d just have to find out tomorrow.

             
He escorted Thorald back to his chamber, bidding him a good night and making his way back to the Knight’s Quarters. Everyone was asleep as he entered, so he was careful to be as silent as possible as he crawled into bed. He thought he would have trouble sleeping, his mind a whirlwind of letters and thoughts and a certain smile from underneath a mountain of curly red hair.

             
But the moment his head hit the pillow, he was asleep. He had been tired before, but never before had he truly been pushed, body and mind, like this.

             
It seemed no sooner had he fallen asleep than the barking voice of the Trainer roused him. He got up from bed without fully realizing it, and he also realized he had slept in his cloak.

             
“Change your clothes, pup. You’re in for it today.”

             
Merek did as he was told, though he wasn’t sure he liked the sound of it. He followed the Trainer out to the training area, expecting to be led to the fencing circle. Instead, the Trainer headed in a different direction entirely, walking towards a door in the stone wall. He pulled it open and gestured Merek through.

             
Merek found himself staring at a wooden board divided into dozens of squares. Every other square was colored in, and on two sides of the board there were carved pieces of wood, eight being the same on one side and eight being the same on the other. Behind those was another row or pieces, though these were different. In the middle, there were two almost identical pieces. On both sides were pairs of pieces stretching to the end of the board.

             
That wasn’t the only strange thing in there, however. There were six tables set up, each one with a different strange thing on top of it. One had flags of different colors. One had carvings of horses and cannons set up around a map. And still another had crosses and circles across a grid of some kind made up of four lines, two running left to right on top of each other, and two more running up and down through the two other lines. It made a square with nine boxes in it.

             
Merek had no idea what he was staring at.

             
“What is this place?” Merek asked.

             
“This is the training room. The real training room. No weapons except your mind. This is where you’ll train your tactical acumen.”

             
Merek didn’t understand half of what the Trainer said, but that did nothing to stop the excitement he felt.

             
“When do we start? Where?”

             
“We’ll start with something simple. Go by the cross and circle board.”

             
Merek did as he was told, moving to the board and waiting with a raised eyebrow.

             
“Because you’re new, you’re the circles. I’ll be the crosses. The point of this exercise is to line up three of your symbol. The opponent is trying to do the same. We take turns placing a symbol down, blocking each other. Do you understand?”

             
“Y-yes sir,” Merek replied as he tried to force the confusion out of his voice.

             
“Good.” With that, the Trainer moved one of his crosses onto the middle section of the grid. Merek lifted a circle, completely unsure. Then he placed it down in the top left corner. The Trainer placed another cross directly below Merek’s circle. Seeing a third cross in his future, Merek placed his circle in the open box to cut it off.

             
The Trainer placed a cross under his middle one, and Merek placed a circle to block it. This continued until the grid was full and neither one could place anything else.

             
“So…” Merek asked, “What happens?”

             
“That was a draw. Now we play again,” the Trainer replied.

             
Merek nodded as the Trainer cleared the board and put his first cross in the upper left corner. Merek put his in the middle. To his surprise, the Trainer put a cross on the opposite side of his circle. Merek put another circle in the lower left corner.

             
The Trainer put a cross in the last remaining corner, and Merek realized immediately his mistake.

             
“Oh,” he said as he examined the board, “
oh.
”

             
“Do you see it?” the Trainer asked.

             
“Yes sir,” Merek replied, “I walked into that one.”

             
“This is just the beginning. There are a dozen ways to win, but there are hundreds of ways to lose. Be prepared.”

             
“Yes sir.”

             
They played three more games, with the Trainer winning twice and Merek forcing a draw once.

             
“Not bad for your first time, pup.”

             
The two moved to the first table Merek had noticed, sitting on opposite sides.

             
“This game is far more complicated, and it will take far more training to master.”

             
The Trainer spent roughly twenty minutes explaining the different pieces and their functions, how they could move, how they couldn’t, what pieces could ‘take’ other pieces and what pieces could not. It was a lot to absorb, but Merek was able to get a handle on it.

             
But when it came to actually putting the information into practice, Merek found himself woefully wrong-footed. Again.

             
The first game was short, with Merek failing miserably within five or six moves. Seeing his error, he didn’t make the same mistake again in their second game, and he lasted far longer before the Trainer put him into what he called, “checkmate.”

             
“That’s enough for right now. But you can come in here at any time and challenge your fellows to a game, and outthink each other. Best way to keep your skills sharp.”

             
“Yes sir.”

             
“Now, let’s get to work.”

             
The two exited and joined the others, who were all stretching and getting ready for the day.

             
“First!” the Trainer shouted, “sparring! Choose your weapon and fight!”

             
Merek chose a sword, and he first faced against John. John had, true to his word, chosen an ax. Merek bent his knees, holding the sword next to his ear with the tip pointed at John.

             
And the two of them met.

             
Merek used his speed to stay ahead of the ax, but John clearly meant every word when he said he was an ax man. He whirled the deadly blade (it was made of wood, but still) with marvelous speed, it almost becoming a shield due to sheer quickness. Merek gained several more bruises from the object, only dishing out a couple of his own.

             
Finally, sweating and winded, they both stopped.

             
“That’s it? Five minutes worth of fight is all you two have? What good in a battle would you be?”

             
“We’d be useful for five minutes, apparently,” Merek whispered to John, who had to restrain a laugh.”

             
“Both of you start running laps! I’ll tell you when you can stop!”

             
“Oh boy,” John moaned, “one time he ‘forgot’ and I was running for an hour. Only stopped when I hit the ground.”

             
“Well, at least this time we’ll hit the ground together,” Merek replied with a stifled laugh.

             
Together, Merek and John started running around the track. John’s thoughts were his own, but Merek was miles away. He was in the library learning to read, and he was out in the town watching people enjoying themselves.