Meuric

by Meuric- Beginnings (epub)

  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.”

  “Did you get a chance to look at the child’s aura?” asked Zuleika. Both David and Meuric shook their heads. “He eclipses those of his parents.” She left that statement hanging.

  “How can that be?” asked David frowning. “He is newly born. Even if he was a child of magick that would mean that the child is more powerful than his parents!”

  “I know,” responded the Knight Lieutenant. “Who knows where his potential may reach when an adult?”

  Meuric looked sharply to her. There was a dangerous tone in her voice. “Careful, Zuleika, we are still only talking about a child here.” The battle of Ay’den flashed in his mind and a mad dash up a hillside.

  “So the question remains why are you here, Meuric?” queried the Pan’iz woman icily. “Obviously the Council did not send you.”

  “It was a man by the name of Ladra,” answered Meuric honestly, ignoring her tone. “He attempted to look like a Kel’akh man though he was not one. He opened a Doorway and sent me through, telling me in no uncertain terms that I was doing this. He briefed me fully about the Royal Family, though I already knew of the legend. He did not tell me about the child except to describe him as a special being, the son of the true line from two Jay’keb kings.”

  “Ladra,” echoed Zuleika. She shook her head, her face a picture of confusion. “We have no one on the Council or the Conclave by the name of Ladra.” She looked at Meuric. “Nor do the Oak Seers traditionally have the power to open doorways.” Zuleika paused for a moment as if listening to something far away. “The Council has not heard of him and is a little concerned that another new force has come into play. They want to know what your impressions were of the man.”

  “A little intense and rude,” he smiled. Zuleika stared at him. She did not mirror his grin so he hastily continued. “But not evil. In fact he seemed quite concerned for the safety of the Royal Family, but not for his own ends. There is one more thing. Just before I met him I was in the town of Ay’den, in a vision belonging to a Fari prēost named Honora. In that vision of the future the man Ladra made an appearance. Worryingly, he was able to see me.”

  “How is that even possible?” questioned David, plainly disbelieving.

  “I do not know,” answered Meuric. “But…”

  Meuric froze as it struck them. A sensation of unnerving dread hit them unexpectedly like a physical force. The presence came from the town. Without a word the three Knight Protectors donned their helms and kept low, drawing their swords.

  Meuric scanned the area slowly, taking in everything that he could. He knew that the Knight Protectors were doing the same. He looked to the Troopers on the neighbouring rooftops. If they had suffered from the force of dread how would those men and women take it? The Knight Protectors were protected from such strong emotions. He was pleased to see that they were standing their ground, crouched low just like them, weapons at the ready.

  Several houses were now in flames around the town. Moans of the dying or injured floated through the air from all directions. Screams from those being murdered could just about be heard now from the far end of Ber’ek. Their noises disturbed him, bothered all of them, but there was nothing that he could do for them.

  The cries abruptly changed. No longer were they about the dead, the dying and the injured. Now they were about a terror that seemed to strike to the very soul. Straightaway they could see Haran’s militiamen fleeing in all directions along with surviving townsfolk clutching their families, their fight all but forgotten. Those who were injured, too wounded to walk or run, could only crawl.

  Suddenly they spotted him. A lone dark figure sitting comfortable on top of a tall black horse, casually making his way through the meandering streets at an easy pace. Even from some distance away Meuric could feel the magick that surrounded him as if it was almost tangible. The newcomer looked neither left nor right, seemingly totally focused on making his way towards them. The Ber’ek people who could not run just cowered beneath him. Meuric could see him bypass the dead victims of King Haran’s men as if they were not even there.

  The Kel’akh man noticed one lone militiaman stand up on a nearby rooftop overlooking the dark rider. Even from his distance he could see the soldier shaking as he drew back on his bow, the weapon aimed directly at the stranger. Just when he was sure the soldier must fire, the man collapsed, his courage and strength all but spent.

  That was when Meuric felt a cold numbness seep into his bones and sinew and he began to shiver uncontrollably. He looked over to David and watched how he opened and clenched his fists. Zuleika had dropped her swords by this stage and gripped the lip of the rooftop’s edge as if to hold herself up. The intensity began to deepen the closer the stranger came.

  Meuric understood immediately what it was of course. The Narration of Fear was designed to evoke extreme anxiety, dread, panic and terror in the recipient of the hex. It was a useful weapon when in battle. However, this mage exuded it from a distance and all around him. Not only that but he and his fellow Knight Protectors were also succ
umbing to that form of narration when such a thing should not have been possible. Sensitive to magick, Meuric reached out tentatively feeling his way forward. The power he felt was immense, much more formidable than any he had met with in the Conclave or the Council.

  He looked left and right and saw the soldiers’ suffering was greater than theirs, though the two magi troopers were coping a lot better than the remainder of the warriors. A few of the soldiers had collapsed. Meuric could feel magick flow around the mage to the far right as he built up his energy. He could feel the force suddenly erupt from the young mage in a fury. It took the form of a steady stream of blinding white light aimed directly at the stranger, forcing away the dread and fear. The soldiers gathered themselves together and shakily raised their weapons. The survivors of Ber’ek ceased their wailing.

  “On your feet, men,” yelled Zuleika. “We have enemy to the front.”

  “That should not have worked,” commented Meuric. “The power of your mage in no way matches him down there.”

  “I know,” agreed Zuleika. The muffled voice from within her helm could not hide her worried tone.

  Meuric looked more closely at the figure now. He wore a similarly coloured robe to that of his horse, with a cowl drawn low over his head making it impossible to make out his features. He could just about recognise the shapes of two black sword grips that jutted up above his shoulders. Suddenly the rider drew in the reins and his horse came to a complete stop just out of bowshot. As if to acknowledge the truth of this one of the archers drew up his longbow, then fired. He cursed in frustration. The man in black tilted his head upwards.

  “He is looking directly at us,” stated David. “How can he even see us?”

  Somehow Meuric knew that the man beneath his hood smiled. “I think I know him.”

  Zuleika looked at him sharply. In silence all the warriors watched how the rider outstretched one of his arms, his palm faced upwards. It seemed to the Daw’ra man that the dark mage’s hand seemed to be made of gold and had a metallic sheen to it. Small flames erupted from his fingertips, forming into the shape of a ball on his palm.