Meuric

by Meuric- Beginnings (epub)

  Zuleika said, “We should attack.”

  She was just about to move when Meuric stopped her. “Your mission is to gather intelligence. Not to die foolhardily.”

  “We are no match for him,” stated David in unison with the Kel’akh warrior. “We have to get out of here now! We have to make our way to the family. They are the priority!”

  Meuric could feel the power the man radiate out. Before Zuleika could issue her orders to her men the ball of fire shot forward from the dark mage’s hand. Almost faster than the eye could follow it flew directly into the building on the furthest left used as an observation post by three of the Conclave’s troopers. The building exploded in all directions, the debris landing all around them. As one, everyone threw themselves onto the floor for cover. Meuric did not need to look at the demolished building to know that the men there had no chance of surviving.

  Meuric shook his head and got to his knees. Remembering Zuleika’s question about the baby’s aura the hireling reached out with his magick. He saw the energy surrounding the dark mage. He balked and glanced at his two fellow Knights. “We need to get out of here now!”

  The former Knight Protector looked to the two men that were between them and the rooftop that had been hit. They must have had the same idea already. One soldier was lifting a dead or unconscious comrade toward the staircase off the roof.

  “Retreat,” yelled Zuleika. Several times she swung her hand in a small circle above her head before pointing in the direction that they had come from. She turned and led the way to the stairwell.

  Meuric could see her troopers either wave their acknowledgement or nod. The Kel’akh man of course recognised the signal. If separated meet at designated rendezvous point. Immediately the soldiers began to run.

  Another ball of fire shot through the air, this time aimed at the very right flank. The Conclave mage was ready this time and with a wave of his hand the ball changed its trajectory and crashed into a neighbouring building, obliterating it.

  David looked at the Squadron mage, who immediately set after his fellow men-at-arms. “He should not have had the power to do that.”

  “No,” agreed Meuric stopping next to his old friend. He looked at Zuleika, already reconnecting with some of her men and giving them orders.

  Almost in a panic, held together only by their training, the Conclave’s soldiers grabbed their horses and leapt upon them. There were three empty mounts now and it was one of these that Meuric grabbed. The unconscious trooper had now come round sufficiently and was helped upon his horse. Without a word they all galloped off as the building where the three Knights had stood exploded behind them. Debris rained down all about them.

  “What did you see?” wondered David, “when you looked at him? I know that you did.” He glanced back furtively and saw the building they had just leapt from in flames, all but destroyed as it collapsed in upon itself.

  “I saw a man with an aura larger than any Council member but surrounded with a blackness so dark that I think the gods themselves would turn their backs on him.”

  XI

  Meuric took to the rear, allowing all of the horsemen to race on ahead as he slowed his horse slightly. From his position he watched David and Zuleika at the head of the arrow formation, ploughing on. He was, after all, the outsider here. These were no longer his people, nor his men. His own mission, the one that he had been charged with, was to keep the Royal Family safe and, though they had been handed over to the responsibility of the Council of Eight, he continued to feel duty-bound to see the mission through, especially now in light of this new threat.

  The Hand of Deo is what they called him. To stand against him was to court death, was another well-used adage when describing Meuric. Yet even he wondered what he could do against such a being as the mage in black.

  Frequently he glanced back, scanning for any signs of pursuit hurtling out of the burning town after them, but found none. He looked to the sky wondering if a fireball would happen to streak through the sky towards them, but again there was nothing. He reached out with his magick towards Ber’ek but felt no presence there. No one spoke. After all everyone, except for Meuric, knew where they were heading. Lost in thought he suddenly he found himself accompanied by three other riders.

  “Knight Protector David sent us back here,” said one of the men.

  “To protect me or to hold me?” asked Meuric, a wry smile beneath his helm.

  The man chuckled. “Pick one.”

  He spoke with an E’del accent and Meuric looked at his two male companions.

  “Were you the men that held our right flank?” asked the Kel’akh warrior.

  “We are,” admitted the man who had already spoken. “My name is Iacchus. This is Kaan, and Nathan.” He indicated each man respectively.

  Meuric looked at each of the three men, noting the engraved and painted brown tower on their body armour over each of their hearts. It marked them as members of the Brown Tower Company. While Iacchus had a picture of a sword weaved into his sleeve and Kaan had a bow, on the man named Nathan he found the depiction of a staff.

  “You are the mage who destroyed the dark mage’s narration and deflected the fireball,” stated Meuric. Nathan nodded but said nothing. “You should not have the power to do that.”

  “He is one of the strongest among us,” interjected Kaan immediately, defending his comrade.

  “You misunderstand me,” offered Meuric turning on his saddle to face the warrior. “Your man Nathan here is simply not powerful enough to do what he did. The mage that we faced was immeasurably stronger.”

  “Then why did it work?” asked Nathan.

  Meuric looked at him. “Why indeed?” Not only did his voice mark the mage as someone who was a native of Kel’akh but he also sounded young. “I do not know,” he admitted. A strained silence fell between them so Meuric decided to change tack. “Where do we go?”

  “Two leagues east and north of the town,” answered Iacchus. “It was where we set up our temporary camp for this operation.” He laughed. “It is also where you left your horse.”

  “What is your fall back plan if it is compromised?” questioned Meuric.

  “Simeon of Jay’keb,” responded Iacchus. “It is also our second rendezvous point should we find that the first one was unattainable.” He looked to the north. “The trees ahead are where we will meet the others.”

  As they approached Meuric could see at least two of the Conclave’s men standing guard amidst a large grove of E’del strawberry trees. He of course knew this place. As Iacchus had mentioned, it was where he had left his horse tethered before moving onto the town on foot thinking it made him a smaller target without the animal. As they passed the trees and moved deeper into a clearing Meuric could see some of the men tending to the horses. As one the four warriors dismounted and a fellow trooper took away their horses.

  Together they removed their full-face helms. Meuric suspected that, like him, they were keen to have the air touch their faces and dry away the sweat. He looked at each of his three companions. The soldiers Iacchus and Kaan were exactly how he had pictured them; lean men with hard eyes. Both possessed the swarthy skin of their home countries. It was Nathan who surprised him.

  He seemed to be no older than having seen seventeen Name Days though in truth he had to have seen at least twenty to serve as a trooper. The three years prior to that would have been time spent in training in combat, magick and in education. A gold and red tattoo marked the right-hand side of his face just above his eyebrow, confirming his Kel’akh heritage. It was not hard to understand why the other two troopers would be so protective over him. He was almost young enough to be their son.

  Spotting Zuleika as she sat to one side of the clearing with two of her men, the former Knight Protector made his way over to her. One nodded his thanks as he stood, saluted and ambled away. The hireling watched as she placed her hands on the head of the second man. He looked to be of the Ba’teest province; northern lands conquered
by Roz’eli Empire and distant cousins to the Kel’akh Nation. There was blood running down the side of his face. Obviously he was the man who had been knocked unconscious by the falling debris earlier. He watched in silence as she closed her eyes momentarily, her elegant brows furrowed. She opened her eyes and withdrew her hands. The wound had now gone and the blood that was on his face had all dried. The warrior stood, gave his thanks and moved away after offering up a crisp salute.

  “You possess the Gift of Healing,” stated Meuric in an attempt to connect with Zuleika. “That will always be useful in our line of work.”

  She stared unfalteringly at the Daw’ra man. “Our line of work is completely different. I do not sell my sword. The family is coming with us but you are not. This is not a discussion. They will be completely safe in Wardens Keep. They are still here if you wish to say goodbye.”

  She swung her arm and from the shadows came the Royal Family led by David and surrounded by a unit of five men.

  “Are you all well?” Meuric asked Obadiah.

  “We are,” responded the would-be king, smiling. He grabbed Meuric’s wrist only for a moment before releasing it. “Actually for the first time in many years we feel safe. I may not have been so warm in our earlier encounter but I want to thank you for the lives of my family. If we are ever to take back our kingdom from the Roz’eli you will always be welcome at our court.” Meuric bowed and thanked Obadiah. The would-be king turned to Zuleika. “Your men are very gracious, Knight Lieutenant.”

  The female Knight Protector stood and offered a stiff bow. “Thank you, sire,” she muttered hurriedly. “But now we must hurry.” She turned to one of her soldiers. “First Servant Laban, we need to get moving now.” There was no hiding her note of urgency.

  “Is there a problem?” asked Obadiah.

  “We came across a mage with immense power who also seemed to be looking for you,” answered David. “We feel it that it would be best that we make haste.”

  As they spoke First Servant Laban sprang into action quietly but hurriedly issuing orders. Men grabbed their horses and mounted. Sentries were pulled in and a five-man team was sent ahead to scout. A second unit, under the command of Iacchus, was ordered to act as a rearguard. Meuric looked on approvingly. Their movements were quick but there was no sense of panic. Every man knew his job and simply got on with it.

  “Do you go with them to Jay’keb?” Meuric asked David.

  “I do,” he replied. He stepped forward and grabbed the Kel’akh man’s wrist. “Well met, Meuric. Hopefully next time it will not be so long and we will have more time to talk.”

  The Kel’akh man nodded. “Be safe, David.”

  Meuric stepped to one side as the column of men rode out. In the centre rode the Royal Family and to Obadiah and Jemima he nodded as they passed him. The rearguard came last. Kaan approached him last holding the reins of his horse.

  “A good animal,” remarked the warrior. “Take good care of him.”

  Meuric nodded and flashed a brief smile but he could not take his eyes off Nathan. How could he have possibly done what he did? He waited until they had disappeared into the darkness before he climbed upon his horse. He turned to find Ladra standing, staring at him expectantly.

  “There are not many who can get that close without me sensing them,” commented Meuric, trying to hide his surprise.

  “You will find that there is a lot I can do,” retorted Ladra. “Like send you home.”

  Meuric frowned. “Your accent… I have been all around Terit’re a few times over. I cannot place your voice.”

  “You would have to go very far indeed to find someone the same as me, warrior,” said Ladra, an edge of sadness to his voice.

  “How did you know I would be here?” asked Meuric.

  Ladra shook his head. “I followed you while keeping a discreet distance.”

  “So I was bait?”

  Ladra laughed. “Partly, but the safe keeping of the boy was very important. It was completely fortuitous that the troopers turned up when they did.”

  “And what of the mage?” asked Meuric. “His power was phenomenal. Who was he?”

  “Do you not know?” asked Ladra, a little surprised. Meuric shook his head. “He is the Dark Druid. He is the man who murdered your family.”

  Meuric swung his horse round in the direction of the town. With a yell of rage he spurned the animal forward. He was only vaguely aware of Ladra shouting after him.

  “If you face him now he will kill you.”

  Meuric did not care. With his mind consumed with revenge he drove his horse on even harder. He did not see Ladra wave his hand through the air but he did feel a wave of nausea envelop him. Meuric pulled hard on the reins. No longer was he outside Ber’ek at night but back on the main trail to the town of Ay’den, western Kel’akh. Judging by the sunlight it was almost sundown.

  Meuric cursed the man of magick but he also silently thanked him. No longer did he wonder if the man who had butchered his family and villagers had ever received justice. Now he knew that he was still alive and now he knew who he was and he knew where to find him.

  He would have his vengeance.

  XII

  Aeons ago a god nicknamed it the Lost Room and the title had stuck ever since. It was a secret room located to the rear of the chief deities’ Throne Room. All one had to do was to think of the great god Junives and walk behind the throne, only to immediately appear in the Lost Room. It was a Gift bestowed only upon those who ruled the Otherworld.

  Faeder could no longer see his Throne Room now. A bland wall of rock blocked his view but he knew that all he had to do was walk back to where he came from while thinking of home and he would reappear in his own dimension. Faeder searched the room. It was not particularly high or wide, yet large enough to move about comfortably if he needed to. At its centre a furnace burned with a blue flame that offered no heat. There was only one opening, which led out into the vast cosmos beyond. From that opening jutted a bridge.

  The gods called it the Skywalk. It was a nondescript conduit made of hoar frost crystal that extended out from the Lost Room and hung out over the cosmos.

  Faeder stood at the beginning of the platform, one foot on the bridge and one foot still firmly planted in the Lost Room. It was a place he had hoped never to find himself, a place where only the rulers of the gods’ pantheon were allowed to enter, a place where one could converse with the great god Junives. They say that Junives had created the Lost Room. So vast was his consciousness it was near impossible to communicate with him, so he had created the chamber so that there would always be a focal point where he could look to if one wanted to reach him.

  According to legend, in the beginning there was only Junives. He was everything and everything was him. In the earliest times he was known as the Creator, the Creationist or the Great God. Then for some reason, nobody knows why, he created others. In mortal terms they were his children but in reality they were entities that made up the universe. There were five of them initially: Neitfe, giver of life to the universe; Rialiti, who brought substance to the cosmos; Seul, representing the mind and soul of all living things; Speis, the expanse of infinity which allowed all things to exist and, finally, Taim, the personification of actuality in the past, present and future.

  Like all children, some were more placid than others. Rialiti and Taim were unruly entities and for an immeasurable age chaos ruled the cosmos. In the end Junives created a sixth entity, a younger sibling, Cide, who brought order to the cosmos. The laws of the heavens began to follow a pattern and time became linear.

  Aeons passed and life flourished across the ether. The entities looked on and wondered at the cost of having offspring created from their magick; something that Junives had explicitly forbidden. All but Cide had looked at their father and wondered why he should get to reproduce and not them. Therefore, they created a race of giants. Mortals would later call them Titans.

  Like locusts, they marched across the cosmos enslaving an
y intelligent life forms that had been born. As the children of entities, they soon discovered that they had the power to bend the laws of their parents and looked to these lower life forms to treat them as gods without equals.

  Cide looked on and grew angry about the chaos being released by his older siblings. Therefore, without consulting Junives, the Entity of Order created his own line of Titans who followed the rules and sought to reverse all the damage caused by the other Titans. Battles and skirmishes broke out across the cosmos and the people within suffered. So vast was his mind, it took an age for Junives to recognise what was happening. In anger, the Creator produced the Old Gods to counterbalance this race of Titans no matter which faction they belonged to. Afterwards man recognised Junives as the Great Balance whose symbol would become the weighing scales.

  In addition to the creation of the Old Gods the Great God allowed man, the most sentient of all the life forms, to decide the manner of the Old Gods. However, man was angry with the way in which the Titans had forced their will upon their worlds and so many of the Old Gods had come to represent that rage and the Dark Ones were born. For an age the Old Gods fought the giants, cumulating in a great and final battle known as the Fall of the Titans, when they were finally vanquished and imprisoned in The Pit.

  Junives then vowed not to involve himself in the direction of the cosmos after that. First, he turned to the entities. As punishment he took the essences of Neitfe, Rialiti, Seul, Speis and Taim and imprisoned them in gems the size of pebbles. Cide, volunteering himself for the same punishment as his brothers and sisters, was turned into a metal glove in which the gemstones would fit. He named this the Kosmos Glove.

  Junives, realising the danger of such power, especially in the hands of a Dark One, evoked a narration upon it stating that only a mortal could wield the power of the glove. He then separated the glove and sent it to different realms within the universe.