Merkus

The usual cluster of students had evaporated and condensed into a few isolated groups who availed themselves of the academy’s outdoor facilities, each busy delving further into what divided them. The garden, crammed beside the apothecary, was occupied by House Silas hopefuls: a self-destructive group of intoxicated Alchemists who lounged on beds of luscious grass. Metal rang rhythmically as prospective Architects of House Grono hammered away at tools in their outdoor laboratory, a billowing cloud drifting into the sky from the forges behind the apothecary. The duel arena, situated across the apothecary, housed a small platform built of stone and overlayed by a complex weave of matrixes that House Banian, with all their boorish proclivities, utilized with fervent enthusiasm. These simpletons competed against each other with feats of physical prowess, some lifting weights, some wrestling, some brawling. House Lorail and the smaller House of Manar crowded around the pedestal of mind, watching a miniature duel between imaginary fire and ice. A young girl wearing the blue crest of Lorail buried her opponent's fire under a wave of frost. The lanky boy she competed against staggered back from the control matrix, laughter and jeers welcoming his failure.

I stayed close to the outer walls on my way out, my contentment diminished by their very existence. Nothing irritates the old and shrewd like the inanity of misled youth, and here, amongst these infants, I felt ancient.

I caught a glimpse of Aki when I crossed the academy’s threshold. It was strange to see him in The Bark so late. Stranger still was the soldier holding his invisible leash.

I called after him. He glanced back but continued on his way. I ran to catch up. The soldier cut in front of me, blocking my approach.

“Move,” she said.

I looked her over. Her fiery hair was short and impressively bold. Her frame was broad of shoulder and narrow of hip. She was pretty about the face, as though her beauty had retreated and staked its territory there, abandoning the rest to her brutish pursuits. All in all, she did not seem a credible threat.

“May I ask where you're taking my friend?” I spared a look around as I spoke, finding we were alone. Good, I thought.

“You are of The Heartwood?” she asked.

“An astute guess,” I said, nodding; I’d always preferred the practical clothes of The Bark to the ornamental folds favored by those of The Heartwood.

“Then know I am of The Branches.” I knew her words to be true. Only someone of The Branches would say them as though it was reason enough.

Aki remained behind her, cowed. He was outwardly calm but the slight tightness in his lips wasn’t lost on me. He had made an art of acting indifferent. I liked him too well not to see the canvas below.

“Evening, Aki,” I said. “Do you know where she might be taking you?”

Aki glanced at the soldier. “To—"

The attack was unexpected. Her open palm struck my chest and compelled me to step back. My left foot crashed down behind me, my knee cracking with the sudden force. I ignored the injury. A weight settled on my mind, distorting my thoughts. Pressure wormed around my head, slithering as it threatened to rid me of my eyes and create space for itself inside my skull. I clawed at the sensus to no avail. My sight blurred.

The mask. It held me back. It had only been a little over seventeen years since its creation. I’d styled the disguise with a particular purpose in mind: formidable talent. Not abundant. Formidable. Not skillful. Talented. Now those limitations held me back.

With no other choice, I perforated a hole in the mask. My true soul tried to explode out in a torrent, cooped up and cramped as it had been. It took all of me to stop it from tearing the mask asunder. A single drop of that sensus, unprocessed and unfiltered by my mask, would likely lead to my being discovered. That would not do.

The mask was enough to change the signature of my true sensus, but not its appearance. Like the darkest of inks, it slunk down my streams, through my pores, and over my skin, obliterating the soldier’s pesky sensus.

To her credit, the soldier was quick to recover, jumping back and assuming a low defensive stance, promptly vigilant against the unknown I represented.

Aki crept backward. He offered a wordless apology when I spared him a glance. I winked and hoped it would waylay his guilt. I was having fun.

“Who are you?” the soldier asked.

“A friend of what appears to be your prisoner,” I answered. My tone sounded different. Deeper. More guttural. It’d been a while since I had spoken with that voice. It spoke of how badly my mask was damaged.

“I am Rowan, a principal graduate of Halor’s Order of Knightguard, a Named proffered the title of ‘Orchid Blossom’, and the chief of House Lorail’s outer guard,” she said. Aki gasped at her declaration. “I demand you answer my question and tell me by what right you stand against an order of a god.” Pride filled her eyes. She knew not the emptiness of her authority.

“I’m going to have to kill you,” I said. The words came more serious and less playful than I’d intended. My real voice tended to have that effect.

She forced a smile. “You are welcome to try.”

I shook my head. “The arrogance of you children knows no bounds. Either you have seen my secret and you overestimate your strength, or you did not care to look and you underestimate mine. Whatever the case, you will die this night.”

Her eyes glimmered with soulsight, the explosion of fear telling me the exact moment she saw me. The real me. The me behind the mask. It’s a wonderful thing to see conceit shatter into horror.

“Im-im-impossible,” she said, eyes suddenly bloodshot.

Fear wafted from her soul. The sweet, intoxicating smell had me whistle a tune I hadn’t whistled for a lifetime, the melody slow and melancholic, like the soft moans of grief or the first murmurs of death, and when she heard it, she doubted no more.

She knew who I was.

Crude and brutish, the attack was a simple materialization of soul power, a method used to show dominance rather than skill. Rowan covered her ears. It did her no good. She tried to scream. I smothered the sounds. My power, black and thick like tar, slid over her mouth and nose, squirming ever deeper. Soon, she’d fallen to her knees, arms limp. I penetrated her eyes then, and her death came silently. Disbelief remained on her features even as her empty eyes cried tears of blood, even as she toppled forward and struck the ground.

“I knew there was something about you,” a familiar voice said.

I twisted towards the voice. She moved too quickly. A blur—no, illusions. Her presence was like a breeze: changing form, disappearing, reappearing, and growing more elusive. My eyes chased her, catching glimpses of her between mirages of herself, her movements a wonder of grace, ephemeral, flittering from one spot to another as if the sway of each limb disregarded time and space. I strained my eyes to keep her in my sights.

I was too careless. She got to Aki before I could stop her. I saw the attack, when, belatedly and at great cost to my mask, I opened my souleyes. It was glorious. A mass of sensus as crude in method as it was sophisticated in application curled about Aki in a whirlwind of movement, sharp spikes and curved hooks furling around him in a prison that brooked no escape.

I flung myself towards Aki. Complex as her construct was, the density of her sensus was no match for mine. An influx of energy shattered the spikes and hooks into motes of light before they scattered into nothingness.

With Aki safe, I checked for her. Only wisps of her evanescent illusions remained.

Damn my mask! I almost snorted at the thought. It felt like the pathetic justification of a weak-willed man. Few would call me a man. No one would call me weak-willed. I gritted my teeth. Complacent. That’s what I’d become. Few could escape my grasp.

Leahne had.

An aroma pulled at my attention. I reacted without thought. The distance to the source dwindled, my steps heavy, my weight light. In a blink, I was there, blood pumping, senses sharpened, a thirst for violence I had not felt for near a century pounding at my will.

The rotund girl wore a purple robe with white threading, a wooden pipe hanging from between her violet-painted lips. Corine, I think, of House Silas. The intoxicant she burned invaded my lungs, the largely calm cloud of smoke disturbed by my heavy breathing. Slowly, the smoke grew unstable, dissipating and losing form. With it, my bloodlust diluted into a less ominous form of yearning, more hunger than starvation, more want than need.

Motion crawled back to the world. My mask stretched. Black spots blotted my vision. I tried to blink them away. Blood in my ears interfered with my balance. I stood lopsided. The taste of metal filled my mouth. I forced a swallow. My mask was on the brink, begging to rejoin the whole it had so long been separated from.

Corine and five others watched me, my sudden appearance clogging their thoughts. I looked back at them, adjusting to the onslaught of sensations.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I heard Aki’s voice just in time to stop myself from dismembering him.

“Merk, we’ve got to go,” he said. The apology in his eyes had grown; he’d underestimated the consequences of his actions and knew it.

“To mine,” I said.

“Not until you’re punished,” one of the students said. If you’d asked me, I would’ve told you I’d never met the fellow despite knowing I must’ve. It mattered little. I flicked the sliver of sensus I still had in my hand at his neck. He slumped to the ground, close enough to death he could kiss it.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Corine stared at the scene wide-eyed. A plain girl with bronze hair shrieked. The other three scurried back into the academy grounds in an uncoordinated fit of panic. That’s House Silas for you: a scholarly, spineless bunch.

I ran as fast as my condition allowed, which must’ve been bad because Aki was keeping up. I didn’t look back as we ran. The students would not dare follow and anyone they told would not rush to face Addy. It would be several hours before anyone with the authority to question her would be notified, then another turn for them to assess if they were brave enough for the task.

Aki kept pace. To be honest, he set it. Barely seventeen cycles and there was no panic in the boy. I had just severely wounded a fellow student with a higher standing than us both, attacked a master of the academy, and killed a head guard of one of the principal houses, yet he hadn’t crumpled under the severity of it all.

Gods, I liked the boy.

The Bark was dark. Aki would say otherwise, but the residents would agree. Many walked the streets hidden by shadows, most of them mildly inebriated. This section of the city was home to the city’s soldiers. Ale and whorehouses were not only common but rarely lacked business, least of all in the dark canopy of evenings. Belligerent soldiers, mediocre musicians, and cheap whores bathed the area in activity, sheltering Aki and me as we traveled the cobbled streets unseen.

Addy was heading down the stairs when I opened the door. She carried an expensive broadsword, the ivory handle wrapped in rough, black leather. The woman had her fair share of peculiar interests. She hated using swords but found them worthy of collecting. An impractical notion if ever I’d seen one.

“Another sitting?” She looked behind me. “And a guest?” I brushed past her without a word. “Not even a greeting.”

“Stop,” I said, turning to her. My face said more.

Her face responded, the smile she wore hardened into a straight line. “Lord?”

“Yes,” I said curtly.

“It is early.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I frowned. “Is it that we have been wearing our disguises for so long that you are finding it difficult to take yours off?”

“My apologies, Lord,” she said, bowing her head. “I will strive to remember my place.”

“Do so. Now, come, we have much to speak of.” I continued up the stairs. “You too Aki.”

We settled into the library for the large space, padded seating, and the sequestering properties of the books that covered the walls. It was also the only room with matrix lanterns—flameless torches more luminous and less dangerous than their counterparts. I sat at Farian’s large desk at the back of the room. Aki and Helena sat across me.

“Where’s Farian?” I asked Helena.

“Yet to return, Lord.”

“When he does, deal with him.”

“Lord?”

“He has served us well and I do not fault you for seeking the union, but it is time he is told the truth. You know what to do if the truth alters his allegiances.”

Addy winced.

“And control yourself, Helena,” I said.

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. She took hold of her shoulder-length hair and pulled it back, knotting it into a short tail.

“Good. Now, where is he?”

“Here, Lord,” She answered.

I sighed. “Do not be vague, Helena. Tell me where he is.”

“Sitting beside me and across you, Lord.”

My eyes widened a fraction. Helena jumped. Her chair cracked against a bookcase, knocking down several books before clattering to the floor.

My gaze shifted to Aki. I saw him anew. He sat stunned but quiet, taking everything in. He was a smart bastard. Patient too. Some of the why I liked him.

I composed myself and waved at Helena to return to her seat. She read my surprise as anger; proof that Addy had retreated. She didn't fear me. She didn’t know me.

Helena calmly retrieved her chair. Aki ruffled the back of his head. I held up a hand before he could voice his growing questions.

“Soon, Aki,“ I said, before turning to my guard. “The Muds, Helena?”

“I had no choice in the matter, Lord,” she said, hints of a smile hiding at the corners of her lips. “Lorail wished it so.”

“And you hadn't told me because…?”

“You had more pressing matters to handle at the time.”

“And the academy?”

“Your sister’s doing.”

I sighed. “And you played no part?”

“Some.”

“Why?”

Silence.

“Very well,” I said. Her silence was answer enough. “Go and wait for Farian. Come back when the issue of his loyalties has been settled.”

Helena stood and hurried from the room, running from my displeasure.

I turned to Aki. He watched me with cold, calculating eyes. Similarities emerged from memories of old and new, matching the sickly boy that sat before me to the impregnable man I once knew. If you accounted for the Naftajar… How could I not have seen it?

“Aki.”

“Lord,” he said. I winced at both the title and the way he said it.

“There’s much I haven’t told you.” It was an invitation for questions. Aki refused my offer. Stubborn bastard, I thought. “Let me first say I will never lie to you. I may abstain from telling you the truth, or parts of the truth, but I will never lie to you.”

“You are not Merkus Farian,” he said.

“I am, and I am not. Suffice to say, I was as much Merkus Farian as any man thinks he is himself.”

“You were but no longer are Merkus?”

“There are answers I am willing to disclose but more that must remain secret. Much hangs in the balance. Giving you the entire truth will shift it away from us.”

“From us, or from you? May I know to whom I speak, Lord?” Aki wore the indifferent expression he reserved for those he despised, and if I was still capable of pain, I think I would’ve felt it then.

“Though it will cost me, I will answer,” I said, having made a decision. Maybe I am capable, I thought, for I could not explain what else might’ve compelled me. “Most know me as the only adopted son of The Old Queen, youngest of the lesser gods, holder of the Eastern Gate, and slayer of The Golden King. I am…Prince Knite of Evergreen.”

Aki fell to his knees. I rushed around the desk to pick him up. The boy’s deference to royalty had always bothered me and never more so than in this moment where he thought to direct it at me.

“We are friends,” I said, lifting him to a stand. “Do not bow to me. I forbid it.”

He laughed. “You know that makes no sense.”

“Neither does laughing at a god, lesser though he may be.”

He laughed again, more himself. “True.”

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” I called.

Helena walked in, eyes hard and hands clenched.

“Farian,” I guessed.

She nodded. “He’s late. He’s never late.”

I turned to Aki. “We are friends, are we not?”

He was quiet for a long moment before he answered. “Yes,” he said, and I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Yes, we are.”

“Good. I have some urgent matters to attend to. We’ll speak again on the morrow. For now, take my room and rest. It’s on the upmost floor, the last room on the right. The pantry is in the back in case you are hungry. You may eat and drink whatever you wish.”

“On the morrow?” he asked.

“By the morrow,” I said. “You have my word.”

I would keep that promise. I always kept my promises.