Masked by stoicism, Merrick's face revealed very little about his inner thoughts. It was hard to get a read on Merrick. For all purposes, he was a statue. Any onlooker would have immediately grasped the tension in the air between us. Not the usual sort of tension that is prevalent in the tavern but a different sort.

On my part, I had admiration and infuriation at Merrick. The man is resourceful and clearly able to track even elusive ones.

“So how did he die?” His calm words masked a torrent of inner turmoil. I did not bother asking whose death he meant. That part of the question was self-evident.

“He died fast, I think,” I answered in a low voice.

“Did he suffer?” Again, Merrick proved his superior willpower in suppressing his emotion. He was a blank slate.

“I wager not. He was knocked with a shot from a longbow and the rest I cannot say,” I gave a sympathetic shrug.

It was surreal how soon the tables changed. Sympathy for the death of someone who would have willingly sacrificed me for their own nefarious deeds.

“Be at ease, I give my word. I do not intend to bring any retribution against you,” he uttered his words in a placid manner, “ for tonight.”

I shook off any remnant feelings.

“I had to do it. There was no other way. It is either them or me.”

“Yes,” responded Merrick but his eyes cast a glance elsewhere and his response seemed more a generic action than an acknowledgement to my previous utterances.

After an enduring moment, the man finally steeled his resolve and spoke.

“Jarryd, he is my brother.....” he paused and corrected himself,”..was my brother. Treated me like one. He was cut of a different cloth. A kind soul. Always gentle and courteous to all. Even acknowledged someone like me as his brother. So unlike his father, Lord Korvanor”

He spat out the last two words as if they were poison. The only visible expression that he allowed himself on his otherwise controlled demeanour.

“Your kind souled brother was willing to sacrifice me.” I scoffed.

“Jarryd, had many good qualities about him. But being strong-willed was not his forte. I always had this premonition that that company of his would spell his doom, one day. He promised me to break away from them. They forced him. Pressurized him.”

I let Merrick continue. An inner voice cautioned against interrupting Merrick. The man was struggling to come to terms with his grief.

The tension between us was palpable. The rest of the crowd in the tavern gyrated away from us. A few tables were even cleared by their otherwise merry drinkers.

“Lord Korvanor felt that his son, the heir, should keep better company, socially acceptable to his standards. Not with peasants and bastards. Jarryd just went with the flow. Even though his heart was never in it.”

Just like the chiming of an ominous bell, the door opened and Syrune glided in. With a head taller than most women in the tavern and a sophisticated saunter, the mage attracted the attention of all. Not all gazes at the mage were of lust or appreciation some were of pure jealousy.

Syrune’s eyes darted like swallows around the common room of the tavern. A hint of anxiety and coquettishness was hidden behind those eyes. Finally, the mage’s gaze held, arrested at the empty table behind us. The mage gave a silent, thanking me for arranging the empty place and moved to occupy the unoccupied table.

I muttered silently under my breath, Syrune, read the atmosphere.

Too many things unveiling at the precise instant.

Too many things for me to direct.

Too many things for me to navigate.

As the mage sat on the empty cushioned chair, a waiter extracted himself from a nagging regular in order to attend to Syrune. The mage leaned back, with lowered shoulders considered the blushing waiter for a moment before ordering an expensive fruit wine.

Merrick let his eyes follow Syrune for a brief moment before he willed his attention back to me.

“He promised that he would never hurt an innocent being. Nor will he stand for it. He was supposed to be free of their company. He swore that he would meet and break off and my brother never fails a promise,” continued Merrick.

“If it helps you, he did not seem particularly active. Though I did not know who among those was your brother, I recall one of them was passive. I reckon that was Jarryd.”

Merrick gave a silent nod and drew a deep breath.

“Still does not absolve you of anything. Avoidable or unavoidable. You were the cause of his death,” He allowed himself a bit of anger, in his words.

“Merrick, please be reasonable,” I appealed to the man’s rational senses. “it is either die or survive for me.”

“Jarryd would never stand by while innocents were being murdered. Only vile and disgusting scums deserved what they did to them. If you are their sacrifice then, you are not so innocent. I know not what you did, but I believe in my brother. He would never hurt an upstanding person,” Merrick’s nostrils flared and his words became even more controlled as he spoke.

Then the second chiming of the ominous bell went. The tavern door opened abroad and Justiciar Celerim strode in, brazenly flashing his formal Justiciar insignia on a golden gilded forest green doublet. A confident stride and an immaculate smile were all that the Justiciar needed to turn a few heads in his direction. Mostly young women looked at the Justiciar adorningly with lovelorn eyes and a few men as well.

Celerim sauntered slowly around the common room, making his presence felt by everyone around, attracting jealousy from a few and igniting passion in some others. Satisfied with making his show of appearance, Celerim finally let his eyes settle on the solemn Syrune, sitting in a corner and sipping wine, lost in a self-absorbent thought, oblivious to the events unfolding.

“Pardon me, I could not help but notice your radiant presence and I would be honoured if you would grace me with your company for the evening?” proclaimed Celerim in a loud voice for everyone to hear. His words turned a few annoyed and jealousy filled heads in their direction.

At the words of Celerim, Syrune’s stiff posture relaxed and a wide smile graced the scholar’s lips. The mage’s eyes twinkled with hope and something more. The mage ran one hand across the hair as if adjusting the untameable.

“Syrune.” voiced an already feeble Syrune.

I took a very long deep breath.

Syrune, you do not reveal your real name on a mission like this.

“Justiciar Celerim, Adept from Ellisinore, at your service,”

They both introduced themselves, again.

On one hand, my own death was hanging around like an obsidian dagger above my head. For surely, Merrick would have placed his men outside. That is what I would have done in his place. On the other hand, I am forced to endure the awkward supposed courtship of Celerim and Syrune. Our original plan lies in shambles. My only hope lies with Taltil now, that is if I survive whatever Merrick had planned.

Taking my silence for as affirmative confirmation, Merrick allowed himself a wry smile.

“Strange, now that my brother is not with me. Taken from me. I have clarity. I never knew what I should do without being told. Keep my head low. Survive for another day. That is how I lived. How I have been indoctrinated. Till Jarryd left, “ Merrick allowed himself a moment to reminiscence and then continued, “For the first time in my life, I know what I should do. What I want to do.” He allowed himself another wry laugh.

Something pricked my skin. A subtle feeling of someone glaring daggers at me. Only to discover that the source for my minor commotion was Syrune. The mage held a pleading gaze, a silent call for help, one of a distraught doe with an injured fawn.

I excused myself from Merrick’s company under the pretext of needing to refresh myself.

“Worry not. I will not leave the tavern. I will be right back.” I said in a low voice.

“Please, rest assured. I give you my word. There are no men of mine waiting for you outside. No harm will come to you tonight. Not from my side.”

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With a slight nod of my head towards the mage, I steadily moved towards the direction indicated as the restroom. The mage attempted to follow my example, only to be stopped by the Justiciar’s strong grasp on the mage’s wrist. Celerim gazed into Syrune’s eyes. A gaze that Syrune returned and they both held their gaze much to my dismay.

After a long enduring moment, where I waited outside the restroom, suffering from the insolent gaze of those who passed hurriedly to complete whatever urgent task that the privy of a restroom required, Syrune appeared. Seeing me, the mage broke down, a dam of tears breached, welled and finally watered down those emerald green eyes.

“I cannot, it is different now. I cannot go ahead with this,” uttered the mage between sobs, “I never realised this part of me.”

“is it Celerim?” I asked while wiping Syrune’s tears.

A feeble acknowledgement escaped the mage’s lips with all the courage that the mage could muster.

“So when did you realise?” I took a deep breath and brushed the hair falling on the scholar’s cheek. More a sign of assurance than anything else. Assurance that the vulnerable creature before me needed.

“It is not just Celerim. No. Celerim....” Syrune took a slow deliberate pause, “Celerim is nice and noble. He gives me the butterflies, but I don’t think Celerim is the sole reason. I feel different. Unexplainable. I perceive things differently now.”

“How differently?”

“I cannot articulate. Everything feels different. Like waking up and discovering colours. Whatever we planned, I cannot go ahead with it. It is impossible for me. Taunting at someone’s heartstrings, I will never go down that path. It feels so wrong.”

My urge to take the rebuke the mage was intense. It took all my strength to suppress the urge. To remind the mage why I was against their futile plan.

“That is because you lack the training for a spy. You cannot partition yourself and your emotions. Nor were you taught how to isolate your feelings. You do not have to force yourself. Just enjoy the evening. I will devise some other means to get the information,” My hands patted the shoulders of the sobbing mage. Syrune allowed the action as the solace of comfort in the dire moment.

“I don’t think it has anything to do with sorting out my feelings. Until this moment, I just never realised it,” uttered Syrune meekly.

“You mean you never realised your interest in men?” I stated the obvious to help Syrune.

“and women,” the mage added.

As if fate took an ironic interest in me, surprises kept falling in my direction, sardonically. There were moments when I would gladly sit and help the mage sort out emotions and feelings but not when someone with sworn vengeance against me is waiting on the other end.

“what about before? I mean before tonight?” I pondered

“I was not interested in the slightest, in anyone,” answered Syrune.

“For real, “ I barely contained the astonishment in my voice, “and people thought you were perverted and lecherous.”

“They thought what?” It was Syrune’s turn to be surprised.

“Syrune, focus. Not the time. I am glad you are coming to terms with your....” my words held, as I struggled to find an appropriate term, “inner self. Ignore whatever was planned for the evening. Enjoy the company of Celerim. See how it goes. Leave the rest to me.”

Syrune’s lips were graced with a bright smile upon hearing my words.

Syrune hopped towards Celerim, happily like a child on a summer meadow while I loitered outside the restroom area for a few more enduring moments, suffering from the cruel gazes.

When I finally returned to my spot where Merrick still patiently waited, Syrune sat alone on the table, in a stately manner, with one leg over the other. Celerim was nowhere near and that is when he made his move. With a medium-toned build, an assertive stride and piercing gaze like a hawk, he approached the lone Syrune with a certain conviction.

“Lady Syrune, please call me Loshan. May I request a dance with you?”

Loshan had the loud gravelly bass voice of someone who is used to delivering orders.

Syrune avoided looking directly at Loshan and clutched the fingers around the wrinkles of the robe. The mage bit the lower lip and issued a weak apology, “My Apologises, I am sort of with someone.”

“You mean the elven loverboy. He hardly sprouted any hair on his body. All he has is a badge. Remove it and he is just limp,” continued Loshan with his condescending tone, “You, my lady, need a real man. Give me a chance, you would find me far more appealing.”

Straining against conflicting forces, from the presence of Merrick and the need to protect the now vulnerable mage, I struggled. Before I could act, the most expected help for Syrune came from the unexpected.

“The Lady is not interested, friend. It would do you well to respect her wishes,” cut in Merrick.

“Let me give you a piece of advice, friend,” replied Loshan to Merrick. His use of the words “friend” filled with irony as it was intended to be. “It would do you well to respect my wishes.”

“Listen, I am not your enemy here,” responded Merrick as he fully turned towards Loshan, hands extended with open palms and a gentle smile on his face, the only emotion that he allowed on his face, “It is a simple etiquette. You see a pretty lass sitting alone and you want to make your acquaintance with her. Lass is not interested. Then wish her a good evening and depart on friendly terms. It is not all that complicated. No blow to your ego. Life happens.”

“Which part of ‘this does not concern you’ escapes your understanding,” growled Loshan, not used to being challenged. Figures separated themselves from the crowd and now moved towards Loshan. His muscle.

“Calm down. I am giving you the same advice that I would have given to my brother. I mean no ill intent,” explained Merrick calmly.

“Loshan, We have been through this,” came the voice of the barkeep. One which Loshan ignored.

The commotion finally attracted the attention of Celerim who decided to step in from the crowds. A look of bewilderment painted on the Justiciar’s face. Merrick was the first one to answer.

“Nothing to worry. You left your flower alone and the hyenas came to feast. What else did you expect?” uttered Merrick with an accusatory tone. A question for which Celerim could provide no suitable answer. The Justiciar’s eyes were downcast.

But the most expected response came from Loshan, who at being referred to as a hyena, decided to resolve the difference using more primitive means. He took a huge swing at Merrick. A swing that missed Merrick by a huge margin.

Loshan bared his teeth in bestial rage as he took a wide swing with his fist, again. Merrick side-stepped the attack. The closed fist of Loshan missed Merrick by a huge margin. Still donning the calm visage, Merrick countered with his fist. Closed fist met Loshan’s ridged nose. The impact of bone meeting bone. The crushing of bone reverberated and the red fluid followed. An unholy howl erupted from Loshan as he knelt over, holding his bloodied face.

As an immediate response to the painful wail, eight figures stepped out of the crowd encircling Merrick. A silent invitation to dance. Not the usual sort for the tavern. Merrick, calm as if his face sculpted from granite, stood his ground. Allowed his challengers to surround him. Justiciar Celerim and I acted quickly to cover Merrick’s blind spot.

“You should take the Lady and leave. What is about to transpire, is not for the eyes of a Lady,” said Merrick.

Celerim took a look at the pale Syrune and then another glance at me. A heartbeat later, he exchanged a well-intended nod at Merrick and grabbed Syrune, shielding the mage from any unexpected assault as they navigated towards the door.

The eight opponents moved in a calculated circle. Only two of them were humans. The rest could only boast of human heritage. The other part, probably ogre or troll or a combination of them both. The challengers were bare-fisted. No. They carried no visible weapons. Spiked bracelets, big gemmed rings on all four fingers, thick neck chains now a makeshift weapon.

Merrick still maintained his calm like a dormant volcano.

“You should leave too. It would take more to take me down. Besides,” his voice still held the calm without any sign of dread, “I hate to be in your debt.”

As if tired of waiting, when Merrick finished his statement, his opponents converged on him. One of the attackers grabbed an empty plate, to bash. Merrick’s open palm met with the flat of the plate. A distinct sound rang, echoed through the tavern as palm slapped on metal. Then Merrick was in his element.

None in the crowd could believe the scene that unfolded before their eyes. For all wager was on the local bully and his army of thugs. None could have foreseen that the stranger would prove every bit superior in martial prowess. His movements, impossible to predict even to the trained veteran eyes. His motions, a blur to most. The stranger dodged, arching his body in improbable ways, putting even the most proficient dancers in the crowd to shame.

Merrick spun, his extended right leg tracing a wide arc. The momentum from the kick, every bit superior to an arc from a vanguard’s halberd. Three of his assailants knocked backwards from the wide-kick. Merrick blocked oncoming blows. Those that he could not block, he dodged. and those that he dodged, he countered, with a follow-attack. A chair was thrown from his blindside. Guided by a sixth sense, Merrick duck and rolled backwards. He delivered three quick jabs in succession as he stood up.

Seizing my opportunity, I delivered a quick blow to the back Loshan’s head. His wail disappeared within the sounds of the ongoing brawl.

Merrick still held his ground. Barely a sweat on his brows. Despite blocking punches and kicks from multiple monstrous opponents. A chain was swung. Its metal gleamed in the dim light as it made an arc, purposed to draw blood. Merrick held his hand and caught the chain. A war of attrition. Merrick on one side and a half-ogre on the other end. The opponent at the other end, grinded his teeth and gave a firm tug. A mistake. One which Merrick exploited. Taking momentum from the pull, Merrick propelled himself forward. His extended right fist met the half-ogre’s lower jaw. A subtle crack followed. The sound of bone cracking under heavy impact.

For my part, I silently dragged my quarry outside the tavern. Praising my unexpected good fortune that showed up at the last moment.

*****

Back at the Justiciar’s bastion, the serenity and the protection offered by the walls of the bastion provided the fleeting moment of respite that my tired muscles craved. My body ached and my muscles burned from carrying the unconscious Loshan. My lungs overworked at double their efficiency to keep up with the demands from my body.

Meanwhile, Taltil, who returned from her mission, held Syrune in a newfound curiosity.

“I cannot believe, we are doing this,” uttered Celerim, “so what next? when do we meet Feador?”

“Tomorrow and not we, I will be meeting Feador.” I insisted.

“Why?” challenged Celerim.

“I can threaten to slit a sleeping man’s throat and look the part. Can you?”

“You make a point.” acceded Celerim.

“Now, take your rest,” I said loudly, addressing no one in particular, “the night was insane but we survived.”

Celerim took the cue and retired but Syrune stood for a brief moment as if debating with self.

With my thought preoccupied with Merrick and more importantly the need to protect Arlene, I steeled my resolve.

“Syrune, I really appreciate what you did tonight. It was selfless. When this whole ordeal is over, I promise, you will have my undivided attention.”

The mage’s face lost its charm as my words fell and in the end, the mage just gave a weak nod before taking leave for the night.

Whatever inner demon that haunts Syrune, however deep the mage’s wounds are, it must wait. For I can only divide my attention among a limited number of issues. The lives of Silvaniel and Arlene are the priority now.

As the silhouette of Syrune and Colby disappeared, Taltil finally spoke.

“Girl Syrune nice. Pretty and good too. Man Syrune is bad. Make other people feel unhappy. I like her.” Taltil finally gave her seal of approval.

I sniffed the air. The scent of Syrune still lingered. It was a wise choice to bring Taltil. She has remarkable perception.