Merek's Ascendance (12 page)

             
And maybe, just maybe, he was saying hello to a red-haired stranger.

Chapter Nine: Firsts

             
Merek trained for a solid month before he worked up the courage to speak to her. In that time he had learned to better wield a variety of weapons, had bested John at chess, and had learned to read at a semi-competent level. At least, he read enough to know what ‘semi-competent’ meant.

             
His hardest challenge to date, however, was the one that appeared when he was visiting the townsfolk with Thorald. He was supposed to be Thorald’s bodyguard under order of the King, but Thorald told Merek that there wasn’t really anything to fear. Merek was just along to have some fun.

             
“Considering that’s all but unknown to you,” Thorald chuckled as they headed into something called a ‘tavern.’

             
It was… loud.

             
The place was full of people, most of who were singing along with a woman playing a lute. Merek looked around, taking everything in at a glance, making sure no one made any suspicious moves.

             
He was so busy being cautious he didn’t notice her come up to him until she was already there.

             
It felt much like getting struck by lightning did, the way he went completely numb and his brain stopped working. Thorald conveniently disappeared into the crowd, leaving Merek with no way of escape.

             
So instead, Merek managed a smile and did the one thing Thorald suggested he do.

             
“Hello,” he said.

             
“Hello,” she replied, sharing his smile. She was only a few inches shorter than he was, and she was standing only two feet away.

             
“I’m Merek,” he said, trying to keep his face from burning. He failed.

             
“Julia,” she replied, and she went almost as red as he felt.

             
“It’s nice to finally talk to you,” Merek said.

             
“Yeah. Sorry, I’ve been… a bit shy.”

             
“I know how you feel,” Merek said, “I’ve been a bit afraid to talk to you.”

“Am I that intimidating?”

“No, no,” Merek said quickly, trying to calm his nervousness and failing.
“I just meant that I’m not used to talking to someone so pretty and…” He cut himself off as his face bypassed red and went to a deep shade of crimson. He was pretty sure most of his blood was diverted to his head as she laughed.

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said without looking away from him. Merek smiled, even though
he wasn’t sure she was being completely sincere. He tried to hold her gaze, but he was worried she would think he was staring and looked away.

He took a deep breath and smiled before looking around, casting around for something to talk about. All he could see was
the rousing folk singing along to a different song and putting gold pieces into a bag for the lute player.

“Is the lute player good at her job?”

“That’s Anna, and she is a marvelous bard. She sings here every night, and usually all the people join in.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Merek said with a laugh.

“Doesn’t it?” she replied as he leaned against the wall, turning to get a full view of the tavern. She moved closer, standing at his shoulder. “Personally, I like some peace and quiet from time to time.”

“I agree,” Merek said, “
not that parties and excitement aren’t nice…”

“Oh no, but on occasion…”

“Some quiet…”

“And seclusion…”

“Can be… quite nice.”

They were only inches apart now
, and once they both realized this, they separated with a laugh. She leaned against his shoulder, and Merek froze. He didn’t know if he was supposed to move, if he wasn’t, he had no idea. Physical contact from anyone was almost unknown to him.

“Would you…” she said, breaking their relative silence, “would you mind joining me for a walk?”

Before Merek could respond in the negative, Thorald appeared as if he could read Merek’s thoughts.

“He’d love to, wouldn’t you my friend?”

“With all due respect, your
highness
, I’m supposed to guard you until your safe return to the castle.”

“Bah. With all due respect, go have some fun.
Prince’s orders.”

“I’m almost positive you can’t override your father’s orders.”

“Go!” Thorald said before whispering mischievously, “or I’ll tell everyone you sleep with goats.”

Merek had no idea what that was supposed to imply, but before he could summon a rebuttal Thorald was pushing him towards the door. Julia followed, and Thorald bowed his head with a smile before heading back towards the throng.

“I really should stay…” Merek said the moment the door closed and the quiet of the outside world surrounded them.

“Yes, keep him safe,” Julia said.

“Especially from himself,” he continued, staring without meaning to down into her eyes.

“Make sure nothing bad happens,” she nodded, staring back up at him.

Merek smiled before walking away, Julia falling into step next to him. “I’ll come right back,” he said flippantly.

The two walked towards the forest
, neither one saying much. Merek did his best to control his shaking as something resembling nervousness only a thousand times worse sent shivers up his spine. If she felt as nervous as he did, she didn’t show it.

“You have no idea how hard it is to make sewing thread out of grass,” was the first thing Merek was conscious of saying.

“Out of grass? Is that even possible?”

“Yes… well, somewhat. Nothing really effective, but you can put the grass together enough to make a coat, or pants. That’s about all I know how to make,” he laughed.

“I’ve heard some stories about your time in the Great Forest. Six months, surviving on your own? How did you do it?”

“Painfully,” was the first thing Merek could think of. “And with the help of some rather nice bears.”

“Bears? Bears were nice to you? I didn’t know bears could be nice.”

“I like to think anyone or anything could be nice if you give it the chance. Except the weather. The weather is going to be as terrible as it can without any provocation.
”

Julia laughed, covering her hand with her mouth.

“It seems you’ve heard plenty about me, but I’ve heard nothing about you. So tell me, Julia, who are you?”

“I
work at the blacksmiths,” she said.

“Blacksmiths?” Merek repeated. He was unfamiliar with the name.

“I normally just watch the books – my father, he owns the shop, is useless with numbers – but he lets me work forge and sharpen the blades on occasion. It’s actually a whole lot of fun.”

Merek nodded, partly to
show he was listening and partly to store the information that a ‘blacksmith’ was a blade-sharpener.

“That sounds amazing,” Merek said.

“Oh, there’s nothing like it!” Julia replied. “The smell of a blade out of the forge, the feel of the hammer against the steel, it makes me feel… calm. Safe.”

“Calm?” Merek repeated, “
You seem rather calm right now.”

“That’s because I feel safe,” she said, and Merek half-smiled. He had walked straight into that one with both eyes open.

“Well, I’m not sure I’ll be of any use if bandits attack, but I’ll try to be sure I’m ran through first.”

Julia laughed again, covering her mouth with both hands as her face grew red.

“I’m sure,” she said when she could finally speak again, “that you’ll do far more than that.”

Merek smiled, this time not speaking any thoughts aloud.

They reached the edge of the town in silence, simply enjoying the night air. It was cool and getting colder as winter approached, but for now the night was filled with gentle breezes. Truthfully, Merek was a little warm in his cloak.

“Seems a bit chilly tonight,” Julia said as she rubbed her arms. She wasn’t wearing anything other than her dress. Immediately, Merek unlatched his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. She smiled at him, though he wasn’t sure why. She was cold and clearly needed his cloak more than he did. It was nothing important.

“Aw, how sweet,” a seedy voice sounded from the shadows. Merek whirled, instantly on alert, as three people appeared from the shadows. The hairs on the back of Merek’s neck stood on end, and Julia wrapped both hands around his arm.

“Ain’t that sweet, gents?” the voice said again, and this time Merek saw its owner.
It was a man with a bald head and a gray mustache that took up half of his face.

“Wait,” Merek said, “I know you.”

“Not as well as you’re about to. Turn out your pockets. And maybe –
maybe
– we won’t take your woman there as well.”

“I don’t have any money,” Merek said twisting his neck to both sides until there was an audible pop. “And if I did, I still wouldn’t give you any.”

“Well then I guess you’ll have to pay with your life!”

Merek lips drew back as he unconsciously bared his teeth.

“Give me what I want,” the poacher said, “now.”

“You remind me of my father,” Merek replied, drawing from his back his staff.
“My father and I don’t get along.”

“You think that little stick scares us?”

“No,” Merek replied, “but it’s going to.”

The bandit to Merek’s left came forward first, laughing. He drew a short sword, one with a curved blade. A cutlass, if Merek wasn’t very much mistaken.
He swung the cutlass at Merek, but it was met by the staff. Merek knocked aside the next attack too, swinging the staff so fast it momentarily disappeared. The next moment it was buried in the bandit’s gut, and he doubled over.

Merek sunk his boot into the bandit’s head, and he hit the ground with a sharp thud.

The next man came forward warily, wielding the same weapon as his former. Merek shifted his grip, waiting for his approach. The bandit seemed willing to wait him out, trying to bait Merek into making the first move, but Merek didn’t budge.

Their eyes locked together,
two different shades of blue, and Merek’s lips pulled back off of his teeth.

The bandit turned and ran away without daring provoke Merek.

That just left the leader, who saw his companion run and shouted after him. “Get back here, you spineless worm!” The fleeing bandit didn’t even look back.

“Just you and me, I’m afraid,”
Merek said as he twirled his staff.

“That suits me fine,”
the poacher replied, drawing a straight sword from its sheath; a regular blade, carried by most who could afford it.

“I’ll give you this once chance,” Merek said as he brought his staff to bear, horizontally in front of him with both hands holding tight. “Surrender now and you’ll only do a brief stint in jail.”

“I’d rather die than go to prison!” t
he poacher yelled, charging forward and slashing down.

“So be it,” Merek said as he lifted the staff and took the full force of the blow. Then
he twisted, throwing the poacher off balance. The bandit tried to counter him by slashing at his staff, and Merek let him. The blade caught the hardened wood, and Merek let it be ripped from his hands.

A risk, certainly, but one he had practiced many times before.

While the poacher was distracted, reveling in what he was sure was victory, Merek was moving. He sunk his right fist into the poacher’s gut before slapping the sword into the air with his other hand by smacking under the pommel. It flew into the air, and while it floated Merek punched the poacher square on the jaw.

Then, perfectly timed, Merek caught the falling blade and jammed it forward, running the
poacher through.

He had practiced it before a hundred times, practicing the force to lift the blade, the right moment to catch it, the seamless transition to impale the former wielder.

But never before had the weapon been real and the target alive at the same time.

The sword cut straight through his flesh and exploded out the other side, spraying the grass in a shower of blood.
The man’s jaw dropped in shock as his eyes widened, aware for the briefest of moments that he had been skewered. He fell to his knees, as if giving respect to the man who had bested him, before falling face first into the dirt.

But by far, the worst thing was the sound. It still rung in his ears long after the poacher’s life faded.
The sound of the blade piercing flesh, the squish of skin piercing, of organs tearing open, the sound that was like a pig getting cut up but a thousand times worse, that sound ran Merek through just as he had done to the poacher.

Merek backed away, his breath harsher now than it had been during the fight as the full repercussions fell on him.