Meuric

by Meuric- Beginnings (epub)

  He had only completed a few short lengths before he made his way back to shore where he sat cross-legged, palms aimed upwards, resting on his knees. Meuric closed his eyes and began to meditate, his breathing becoming increasingly deeper. A short time later he opened his cold grey eyes. He was not surprised to find a woman sitting before him, also cross-legged, a large grin on her face.

  Like Meuric, she looked to be no more than twenty-five summers, with an athletic build, red hair held in place with a gold torc and green eyes. She wore the typical clothing of a Kel’akh woman with a yellow tunic, with blue bracae and a heavy brown bratt held together by a gold brooch. Doeskin boots covered her feet. A green and white swirl-shaped tattoo was stamped on her left cheek. Meuric could see a similar one on her left hand.

  A circular shield sat on the ground next to her; wooden layers reinforced with strips of iron and embroidered with gold. A composite bow of bone, horn and wood and a quiver full of arrows rested next to her shield and full-face helm. Two short swords, x-shaped, were strapped to her back, the grips and pommels of which jutted up through the cloak. Like Meuric, the woman’s eyes seemed to be far too old for such a young person.

  Looking at her made Meuric remember back to a day many years ago when he had seen only thirteen summers. It was the first time he had seen someone from western Kel’akh. He was a simple merchant selling his wares. A pang of jealously touched him when he looked up into the man’s face.

  “Why do all the people in western Kel’akh have green eyes?” he had asked Paden so many years ago.

  The Oak Seer looked down and had smiled fondly at him. He replied, “The gods a long time ago placed great magick in the land. It is that which causes the eyes of those who are born to be green.”

  Meuric had laughed at him then thinking that the old man did not really know the answer. There were no gods or goddesses. There was no such thing as real magick except for what the Oak Seers could do. Now he knew better.

  “You don’t seem too surprised to see me, Meuric,” commented the woman lifting her eyebrows. “It’s good to see you again of course. How long has it been? Two years? Three?”

  Meuric stood and walked over to his saddlebags, all but ignoring the woman. He paused, sighed and turned to her as if finally admitting to himself that ignoring her would not make her disappear. “You know it’s been five years, Radha. What is it that you want?”

  An image flashed in his mind. It was the last night the two had seen each other, making frantic love for hours. Meuric grudgingly had to admit that she was the closest any woman had ever come to replacing Dervla. Close, but not quite. Meuric had left early the next morning as she slept soundly, without even saying goodbye.

  Radha said softly, “Shame on you, Meuric, for remembering something like that.” She smiled shyly but there was a playful glint in her eyes and a flush of rose touched her cheeks. “Of course I could not let you pass through Oo’do and not say hello.” As she spoke Meuric dried himself off and slipped on a clean pair of black leggings and black boots made of soft leather that nearly stretched to his knees. “Still wearing black I see. So what are you this week… bodyguard or assassin?” Meuric did not answer and the woman continued unperturbed. “Good night last night?” asked Radha. “Or was it this morning? It is a little hard to pin down. Your memories seem blocked somehow.”

  “I had to distract Onóra in some way,” he said finally. He was amazed that the Kel’akh Knight Protector had plucked no memories of Ah’mos from his mind. “She has a natural Gift of Empathy and was beginning to pick up on things.” Meuric struggled a little as he pulled a long-sleeved green tunic, edged in gold, over his head. “It was the same as usual, Radha, good at the time, feelings of emptiness after.” He tied a black belt of leather around his waist. “You know that it is rude to enter a person’s mind without asking them first?”

  Radha nodded. “It is hard not to notice. They are right there at the front of your thoughts. You feel guilt as if you have just betrayed your wife.” The woman paused for some moments before reluctantly saying, “She’s been dead a long time, Meuric. You know, what you need to do is allow yourself to love again.”

  He stared hard at Radha, venom in his eyes. “I had a good woman! She died! I do not need another!”

  “She’s been dead around one hundred years now,” protested Radha but still in a sympathetic voice. “Her death was not your fault. You were not even in the same country.”

  Angry now, Meuric muttered, “I have the Council to thank for that!” He shuddered and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I do not want to talk about this anymore, Radha. What do you want of me? You are not here just to greet me! Are you just coming back from a mission or is it that you are just about to set off on one and you need my help?”

  “No, no mission,” she responded quietly. “Have you heard any of the rumours lately? Those concerning an invasion fleet from Roz’eli?”

  Meuric sighed and forced himself to quell his anger even deeper. He was normally very self-contained, but talking about Dervla had always made him lose his temper. He took a deep breath. “I have heard only the usual stuff, Radha,” he replied. “This time they are apparently going to land at Ka’re.” He gave a wry smile. “There is always an invasion fleet from Roz’eli threatening to land somewhere in those parts of Kel’akh they have not conquered yet. I have got it on good information though that once again it is nothing but hearsay.”

  “True,” answered Radha nodding in agreement. “I can tell you for a fact that the rumours are false in this instance and yet the Ard-ri felt compelled to take an army down there, even though you can be sure that the High King had already sent scouts out for confirmation and has been in contact with his discerners from all over the realm.”

  “You are the second person to say something similar to that. I have just met with Liam of Bahr’bre.”

  “Custodian of the Northwest?” asked Radha.

  Meuric nodded. “The same. He said much the same as you. The High King was acting paranoid. There was no swaying him from his journey south. Liam was even sent away from his presence for raising such concerns.”

  “I feel something else is at work here,” said Radha. Meuric remembered Liam saying the exact same thing. “I actually feel that my life is at threat though I cannot say from where it is coming or when, but I am convinced that I am being stalked.”

  Had she been in touch with the Council? Did she know of the Dark Druid? Did she know that Qadir was dead? “I could tell the Ard-ri if you want?” offered Meuric. “Tell him everything and make him believe me. I am not a Knight Protector anymore.”

  Radha shook her head. “We are not allowed to interfere, Meuric. I do not believe the Religious Conviction would care that you are a former Knight Protector! I would not allow you to do that anyway.” Radha frowned and her green eyes became extremely serious. “I would stop you.”

  Meuric shook his head and laughed. “You could never beat me in the past, Radha. I bet that you still could not.”

  “I never said that I would fight you,” threatened Radha. “I said that I would stop you.”

  Silence followed and an uncomfortable stillness grew between them. After some moments Radha spoke. “I know of Qadir and the Dark Druid. That is the true reason why I have met with you.” The woman was always playing games before getting to the point, cried Meuric in silent rage. He shook his head in disbelief. Some people never change.

  “The Council wants us to work together. You are to meet up with Petros in Rabi’a, take custody of Abram and bring him to Kel’akh and to me. When you cross the border I will meet with you and we will take the boy to Ee’ay.” Meuric felt himself pale. “I do not understand why we do not just send him back to Wardens Keep?”

  “You can tell the Council that I will not be going,” said Meuric. “I have my own path to follow.”

  “I wish that I could,” said Radha in a small voice. “But I have lost the Link.”

  Meuric raised his e
yebrows, stunned. Such a thing was unheard of though he had been cut from the Link as soon as he had walked away from the Council. How strange, how scary, it must be for Radha to lose that connection after fifty years or so.

  The Daw’ra man considered this new information. The Link was a mystical connection that existed between each of them and the Conclave’s Council, used primarily as a method of instant communication and a transfer of orders. There could only be two reasons for it.

  The first was that everyone was dead. He knew that was not likely. The second explanation was that someone had isolated Radha, most likely in preparation for an attack. Either way, someone was clearly targeting her or the Knight Protectors in general. Meuric wondered now if he too was going to be a target.

  “Have you been dreaming much lately?” she asked.

  Meuric sighed and slipped a black cloak around his shoulders, securing it with a silver brooch with an intricate Kel’akh design of swirls surrounding a dragon. “I am still having that recurring dream if that is what you mean. Only now it increases in vividness and information. Is this another punishment by the Bridge Maker?”

  Radha shook her head. “I have been having them too. I think that our abilities are trying to warn us of the dangers that we are about to face. The Dark Druid is coming here. I can feel it. I think that it is time for you to come back into the fold. Perhaps you should go and see the Council and make amends?”

  Meuric cocked his head. Was that actual fear he had heard in Radha’s voice? “I am no longer a Knight Protector,” he stated again, more vehemently this time. “I strayed from that path some time ago and I have no wish to go back. They cost me my wife, my son, my friends and my life. Besides, if I was to come back there would be two of us protecting Kel’akh and that would be against the rules of the Religious Conviction. Sitting in Wardens Keep like Petros and Zuleika is not my idea of living.”

  Radha laughed. “You think that is all they do? You know better than that.”

  “This fight is yours not mine,” continued Meuric ignoring the female Knight’s comment. “I plan to be away from Kel’akh itself inside the next several days or so if the weather holds. I was thinking of making my way to the port at Bren’den and on to Ba’teest.”

  Radha smiled. “I do not think so, Meuric. You still possess our armour. You still practice our ways. I know you help others when you can and kill only those that are considered wrongdoers. When you have need of me, call. You know how to get in touch.” The woman stood and turned towards the forest. “I will be waiting. It was good to see you again. Do not allow it to be so long again.”

  With that, she turned and simply vanished.

  “I will never again be in league with the Council,” Meuric yelled after her, suddenly feeling like a child throwing a tantrum. “No more will I do their work!”

  Radha began laughing. Her chuckling filled Meuric’s mind and the air around him. “Who do you think has been using you as a hireling this whole time?”

  XXIX

  Bradán almost slid his way across the soft ground of Rabi’a village as he made for the Chieftain’s home. He had been summoned for a meeting with the local Roz’eli Administrator by the name of Quirinus, who had just arrived at the settlement a short time before. He cursed as the mud splattered the lower part of his leggings so recent was the rainfall in these parts. Thankfully the rains had now stopped allowing the late winter sun to shine in all its glory. He and his fellow men from the Druid’s Legion, and now a cohort from an authentic Roz’eli unit, had already spent two nights in the large village and were mostly bored. There was very little to do in a place such as this which always made the threat of fights between soldiers and villagers even higher. He was determined not to allow that.

  He was still a Captain in the Druid’s Legion and, though there was nothing that he could do about the Roz’eli cavalry, he was damned sure that his own men would not lie idle. The Chieftain’s home, a large yet nondescript building of three levels, stood in the direct centre of the settlement as per the norm of any Roz’eli-occupied lands. It acted as both the Chieftain’s homestead and office for his official duties. For the inhabitants of Rabi’a it was also the focal point for the town where the market and shops would set up close by. Gone now were the traditional circular domed huts of the Kel’akh people. In their place now stood erected square buildings of mostly a single level, made mostly of a drab local stone.

  Vanished too were the standard wooden protective walls that at one time would have defended the village. Now a dull grey wall of stone surrounded the settlement, though the main gate was still wooden. It seemed to Bradán that the whole place was nothing more than a cheap boring replica of the city of Roz’eli where everything seemed to glisten and shine. It saddened the warrior to see this. The people here had lost a way of life that could be traced back thousands of years, only to be replaced by the new empire of a new world.

  But there was something more to this town, thought Bradán. Though he could not put his finger on it the place seemed to have an almost military aspect to it. It was hard to define though, as if great care had been taken to disguise the fact. Was it because it was built on a hilltop surrounded by somewhat steep slopes? Was it the subtle changes of layout to the village where small pockets of cleared areas had been created as if they were killing grounds within the settlement? Was it the way the guards on the walls acted? A little too “switched-on”, even for a large village deep within the Roz’eli Empire?

  The warrior’s eyes flitted to the people that resided here. They went about their business, wearing clothes that seemed to be a mixture of Kel’akh and Roz’eli. The hairstyles of the women also resembled those worn throughout the Roz’eli Empire, yet the men still continued to sport the shoulder-length hair that was usual in the free Kel’akh Nation. Though they could clearly see the green Kel’akh tattoo upon his left cheek marking him as a provincial cousin, they looked upon Bradán with an open resentment. He could guess why. Here was one who came from one of the remaining free regions of Kel’akh yet he chose to align himself with the enemy.

  They did not know him, he decided. They did not know his story. He told himself that their opinions of him did not matter but deep down he knew that he was lying. Looking into their eyes he saw a people whose armies may have been defeated but as a race they could never be fully controlled. He smiled inwardly rejoicing at that thought. At the same time he felt distraught that he would not be considered one of them. Yet, paradoxically, a number of men and women volunteered every year to become members of the elite, and very often suicidal, Free Archers Company. But was it all a ruse?

  A standing army they may not be allowed but on the other side of the coin more and more people every year were being trained not only in Roz’eli warfare but also in advanced techniques such as assassination, espionage, field craft, marksmanship and a form of martial techniques that was an amalgamation of several others. Those who did not make it into the Free Archers often became members of the Federate Mercenaries. Simply put they were “ally” units of warriors that came from occupied countries around the Empire and fought for Roz’eli as a semi-regular regiment. Usually they served five to ten years. Typical of their arrogance in thinking that they had truly defeated the Kel’akh people, Roz’eli might just wake up one morning to find an army of first-class killers on their doorsteps.

  Movement caught Bradán’s eye a little to the left of the Chieftain’s Chamber. It was Tacitus down on one knee, his purple and white robe sinking deep into the mud. The warrior was almost amazed to find that the senator had failed to notice the dirt considering how fastidious he was about staying clean, almost as if that alone made him superior to everyone else. He started to walk towards him when he suddenly froze. The warrior’s face paled.

  The senator had knelt holding the hand of a small girl, but it was the way he was doing it that forced Bradán to take pause. Something in the manner in which his hand was lingering over that of the child. His eyes flittered beyond Tacitus
and saw a woman, obviously the girl’s mother, bracing herself in the doorway of a house. She was distraught but silent. Between her and her child stood two Roz’eli Men-of-the-Legion, hands resting on the pommels of their gladii.

  Those in conquered countries had no rights to speak of when dealing with true Ee’en natives. He noticed then that both soldiers were looking away from the senator, but whether it was out of duty or disgust Bradán could not say. Anger grew within the body of the Druid Captain. His hand reached for the dagger at his waist but he did not draw it.

  He wished he had Thales at his back but the hireling had just been forwarded on to the Oo’do region in northwest Kel’akh by magickal means along with Gavriil and two other men. He had protested against the taking of further men but Tacitus had insisted. It was said that the former Knight Protector by the name of Meuric had last been seen in that locality so it was an opportunity that they could not miss if they wanted to pick up his trail. Another team of four had already been dispatched to kill the Knight Protector Radha. They now had the precise location of her home, one day’s ride outside a village called Kar’el.

  Bradán had been left behind with the senator, a troop of Roz’eli cavalry and the remainder of his Druid unit. He could sense the pull of a whirlwind of events that was about to overtake him and sweep him up. The war in earnest was about to begin. He had no doubt of that now. But first he had to deal with this. He took a few more steps towards Tacitus.

  “Senator,” said Bradán, his voice firm. “We must speak with Chieftain Theirn.”

  “Shortly,” responded Tacitus, not taking his eyes off the child. “I am sure that Urbanus is doing a first rate job.”

  As he spoke Bradán watched as the Roz’eli man’s hand slid up the child’s arm. He felt sick with disgust. He could see that the small girl was obviously terrified. The Roz’eli soldiers looked too, but turned away on seeing what was taking place.