1076

Merek Ward

  The first thing that told Merek’s conscience that something wasn’t right was the sunlight pouring through the window. Firstly, he never slept late enough for the sun to shine in from such a high angle. Secondly, there wasn’t nearly enough dust. He blinked once, and instead of the splintered birch walls he had come to expect from his farmhouse bedroom, solid walls with detailed red and gold wallpaper filled his vision. The floor was spruce. Maybe. He didn’t know trees, he just knew it wasn’t birch.

  Panic welled in his throat. He started to sit up, but exhaustion quickly caught the better of him, and he leaned, half-elevated, against the headboard of his bed. The panic in his throat, however, was not subject to his exhaustion, and his eyes began to dance around the room that his supposed kidnappers placed him in.

  On top of him there was a quilt, weaved and knitted with grandiose decals depicting eight giant monsters– some were animals, some were mythical creatures, one looked like a human– in vivid detail. A dark wooden bedside table sat to his left, the same color as the floor. Beyond it, a closet with closed doors, with elegant curves and a swift design. To the left of the closet, a vast bookshelf lined with novels and textbooks and studies and magicians handguides and more, adorned with various trinkets that managed to place the bookshelf itself into the fantasy genre. Merek frowned. Luxurious. Rich kidnappers, he thought. He succeeded in elevating his body to an upright seated position. He glared at the bookshelf. They better not make me read.

  His eyes fell upon a wooden desk with burnt candles that still filled the air with their waxy-vanilla scent. Above it, a painting on the wall of some tree from some place where whales floated in the sky, surrounded by a golden picture frame designed in impeccable detail. A surprisingly normal door, out of place with all of its snobbish inanimate contemporaries.

  The door opened, and a girl who he did not recognize entered the room he did not recognize carrying a dish that he did not recognize. There seemed to be an unfortunate lack of recognition heavy in the air on this fine morning. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a croak came out. Merek’s eyes widened while his eyebrows knit, and he pointed to his throat. Water, he mouthed. The very second he became aware of the thirst, it overpowered him. Merek’s heart, soul and body ached for water. He had become a timid damsel in a high tower in need of rescuing. A lost dog on the street. An orphaned boy with not a dime. He needed water. He needed-

  The girl placed a glass of water upon the bedside table and Merek downed it all in less than ten seconds. It was delightfully void of taste. He grunted as his body began to rehydrate, the cool feeling of the water spreading through him. Goosebumps.

  “You’re awake,” the girl said.

  Merek turned, and got his first proper look at her. Blonde hair, blue dress, a little on the plumper side. Kind eyes. Freckles. Beautiful face. He nodded shallowly with approval. Not the worst kidnapper ever. “I am,” he rasped.

  “Good job,” she said awkwardly, and immediately followed the statement up with a bright red blush that spread across her face.

  Merek half-smiled. “Much appreciated.” Silence. He cleared his throat, feeling no danger from the girl. She couldn’t have been any older than him. “So, why am I here? Exactly?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine…” she started, searching for a name.

  “Merek,” he supplied.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Merek. I’ve only been here for a couple suns.” She paused. “Okay, your guess isn’t as good as mine. They’ve told me a couple things but they don’t make much sense– they don’t really fit together in my head.” She paused for a moment, scratching her temple and frowning. “You probably have some Beast inside of you, though.”

  A silence hung in the air. “You mind repeating that part?” Merek prompted. “The thing about a Beast? Is that some…” he motioned, grasping the air for words. “Some metaphor?”

  “Metaphor?” The girl asked, cocking her head.

  “Is this some anger rehab place for ‘the beast within?’” Merek asked, with lame eyes. “You guys would be better off without kidnapping your patients, you know.”

  “That’s what I said!” she exclaimed, pointing.

  “You were kidnapped too?” Merek blurted.

  “Yes! Well, no! It’s more that- they took me?” She phrased it as a question. “But in a way that I was okay with being taken?”

  “They drugged you?” Merek asked. “Who is ‘they?’” He paused for a moment. “Devil, who are you?”

  “They didn’t drug me…” She rubbed her face. “Listen, I’m doing an awful job explaining this. We’re here for a reason. I think. They seemed to make that much clear– I’m Alice, from Port Town Mare.”

  “THE Alice of Port Town Mare?” Merek exclaimed excitedly.

  Alice blinked. “You know of me?”

  “Not at all. I’m kidding.”

  She frowned but her eyes smiled on behalf of her. “Surely you’ve heard of The Pudgy Pelican, at least?” There was a hint of hope in her voice, and Merek’s mouth quirked into a smile.

  “Obviously.” He had no idea what that was. “So who is they?”

  “As of right now, it’s just Mr. Acer Ashdim and-”

  “By King, he’s awake!” roared a tenor voice, accompanied by the percussive ensemble of the door, a shoe and a wall as it was kicked open and slammed against the side of Merek’s room. “What’s your name, already? Do you have the funds to pay for this?” The man young standing in the doorway demanded, aggressively tapping a stack of parchment. Merek was able to make out the top words on the first page: Port City Mare Treasury.

  “What the Devil?” Merek asked.

  “...and Mr. Arthur Godwin,” Alice finished, pointing towards the door with apologetic eyes.

  “Who do I owe money to?”

  “The entire city-” The boy called Arthur halted, expression softening for just a moment. “What’s your name?”

  “Merek Ward,” Merek said flatly.

  “The entire city, Ward,” Arthur hissed. “You burned through no less than 5 walls and caused damages to the street cobbles, not to mention terrorized the public. You don’t recall?”

  “I can’t say I do, Godwin,” Merek said in return, but his far weaker voice did not stand up to Arthur’s far thicker tone. “Are you the kidnapper? Is this a scam? You need money that bad?”

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  Arthur placed a hand upon his breast in defense. “I am no kidnapper. Why does everyone think I’m a kidnapper?”

  “You have kidnapping tendencies, Arthur,” Alice said softly.

  Arthur’s eyes fell upon her and he softened. “Alice, my dear, we’ve gone over this before…”

  Merek gestured sharpy at Alice, staring daggers into Arthur’s eyes. “You’re awfully kind to her, what’s with the unequal treatment of your victims?”

  “Ward,” Arthur started, bending forward like a teacher talking to a student, “she is a lady. And,” (standing back up now) “She didn’t burn down half a city and cost us thousands!”

  “I didn’t either!” Merek shouted (or attempted to shout), pointing at himself innocently.

  “It’s an exaggeration, Ward- regardless of the amount you burned, it doesn’t change the matter that you did burn it!”

  “I didn’t!”

  “You-” Arthur stopped, the frown on his face transforming from aggression to confusion. “Do you remember our battle?”

  “Arth- Godwin, I don’t know you,” Merek said plainly. He found himself oddly timid, completely unaware of the reality of his circumstances. He could’ve been kidnapped, but things seemed all too well for that to be the case- so, what?

  “Do you remember getting to Port Town Mare?”

  “I never left Parker’s Hollow,” Merek said assuredly.

  “You’re from Parker’s District?” Arthur asked, eyebrows raising.

  “Parker’s Hollow. Yeah. It was the day of the fall fest. There was a commotion, and-” Merek furrowed his eyes, arms splaying to his sides. He felt weak. “And that’s all I can tell you.” Maybe he was the kidnapper who caused the commotion. Maybe- “Is my family safe?” Merek blurted.

  “Damn, I do seem like a kidnapper,” Arthur muttered, breaking eye contact. “I don’t know anything about your family, Ward. You were furious when we met, entirely under the influence of Regirvus.”

  Regirvus. The name rang a bell somewhere deep within his mind. A soft cue of something so recent yet so surrounded by fog and fatigue that it became something of an oasis, a concept that disappeared once he came close enough to observe. “Who’s that?” He asked plainly.

  Arthur sighed with hands on hips, and looked at Merek with a somewhat softer set of eyes, but a hard expression to accompany them. “There’s a lot to cover. Can you stand?”

  He could not stand. However, after ten minutes of stretching and some food supplied by the lovely Arthur Godwin, Merek hobbled to the door with Alice by his side and the scholar leading the way. The door was opened for him, and Merek was brought onto a sweeping balcony overlooking what must’ve been the central room of his new abode.

  It was so grand that he barely noticed the chestnut and cinnamon scent that wove its way into his nose the very second the door opened. The balcony swung around three sides of the room, not on a perfect plane- no, it ducked and wove throughout various levels of height, all carpeted so as to not cause slippage of those who walked along it. Wherever it flattened, there was a door, presumably leading to yet another room like the one Merek stayed in, which now seemed utterly simple. The banister was unnecessarily detailed– instead of tiny spires holding up the wooden rail, flowerful decals in august, deliberate patterns supported the railing, painstakingly carved by hand. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, with eight main sections of lighting, each section being held up personally by a golden statue. The statues depicted the same eight monsters that had been woven into Merek’s quilt.

  The staircase sat itself in the corner of the room: a wide, sweeping helix with deep red footing. Each step was suitable for three people to walk in at any given time, and yet it still barely took up a tenth of the whole room. Countless rich, worn colors dotted Merek’s vision, as the back wall of the room was home to giant bookshelves filled with storybooks. He hadn’t known there were so many books in the world, and he certainly hadn’t known they were all here, in this room. His mouth hung open. The bookshelves encased and surrounded what Merek presumed to be the main entrance to the room. On either side of the entryway there were grandiose suits of armor- The one on the left was spotted with deep black decals; the helmet in particular boasting an impressive pitch plume. The right suit of armor was encompassed by pristine, angelic white tones, with tiny golden details conjoining for a suit fit for an Angel of Heaven.

  With a glance around, Merek noticed six other suits of armor- A suit with firey red and orange decals, a suit with watery blues and cyans- an earthy brown set, a lush green set, a electric yellow set, and some odd tan set- it was the least interesting of the bunch. The other suits of armor guarded other entrances- one pathway on his left, one on his right, and then opposing him there were two hallways- one suit of armor per hallway- that sat on either side a handsome fireplace. The fire was burning deep within it, and as Merek’s eyes locked onto the dancing flames, the chestnut smell at last registered in his mind.

  Portraits of long-bearded men sat above each entryway, with the largest one being above the fireplace. Even the plaque had large enough lettering for Merek to read it from across the room with a squint- Charon Ashdim. He had certainly heard the name at some point in his many years of schooling, however recalling a name and recalling the name’s story were two vastly different accomplishments.

  Couches in the center. By the Devil himself, Merek was certain he had never seen such luxurious furniture, but the sheer opulence of the rest of the room made him almost forget it was there. Torch lamps illuminated the room, with glass that must have been magical to cast the glow that they did from such tiny sources of light. It was almost like sunlight- the room was perfectly illuminated despite only four small lamps and the chandelier above.

  Merek placed himself on one of the couches, mouth still agape. Alice sat beside him. Arthur stood above them both, dissatisfaction on his face. “Would you like something to eat, Ward?” He asked numbly.

  “I could go for a bite.” He raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Someone’s being awfully nice.”

  Arthur sucked his teeth. “We’re stuck with each other. I’d rather not ruin it so early on.”

  “Hang on.” Merek frowned. “What do you mean, ‘we’re stuck with each other?’”

  “What’s your favorite food?” Arthur asked, a voice so void of authentic care that it almost tore the magic away from the room.

  “Want to answer my question first?”

  “Want food?” Arthur mocked, not budging. There was nothing Merek hated more than losing a petty back and forth, but by the sun itself, he was hungrier than he had ever been.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Got any smoked meat?” He asked humorously, knowing the answer.

  Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

  No less than three seconds after Arthur disappeared from view- accompanied by Merek’s cold gaze- Merek whipped around to face Alice. “I don’t like him, Alice.”

  “He can hear you,” Alice whispered with a grimace. Merek shrugged. “He’s quite smart,” she supplied. “He knows a lot. I think he’s a good person to have with us.”

  Merek frowned. “You believe that.”

  “He knows a lot more than we do, and that seems pretty important right now… don’t you think?”

  Merek sniffed. “I suppose.”

  “He’s sweet when he tries to be. Maybe it was a bad first impression?” Alice asked hesitantly.

  Merek chuckled deep in his throat. “You’re right.” You’re wrong. He glanced up, looking around the room. “Alice, I have never seen anything like this. Ever. I didn’t know stuff like this existed.”

  “Isn’t it amazing?” She asked, following his gaze. “Just wait until you see the kitchen, Merek- also the backyard is lovely. I haven’t yet been to the study, but we’re supposed to both go there with Mr. Ashdim once you’re awake.” She frowned. “Which you are.”

  “Which I am,” Merek chuckled. He wished he had more to say, but there was too much flying around his mind at the time being. Primarily, he needed to know how he would leave- Alice seemed trustworthy. He would stay by her side for the time being. Beyond that…

  The smell of smoke- the good kind- entered his nose. Spices and herbs and butter and vegetables and- Merek’s eyes widened yet again, this time accompanied by a furrowed brow as Arthur reemerged from the hallway with a platter of smoked brisket, dripping with juices that were flowing with spices. Bright yellow corn with a slight char sat on the corner, shiny with rich, yellow butter, and a medley of steamed vegetables called the other corner of the platter its home. He placed it before Merek on one of the many fine wood-and-glass tables surrounding the couches, along with a glass of water. Metal clanked as pristine utensils fell onto the plate.

  Merek stared at the platter and his jaw mechanically unhinged yet again. “You’re kidding.”

  “I almost wish I was. You have a primeval palette, Ward.”

  The insult barely made contact with Merek’s ears. “These juices are fresh!” His gaze of disbelief shifted from the food to Arthur’s face, and the scholar stifled a laugh at the sheer bewilderment on Merek’s face. “It was cooked just now! But smoking takes hours! You-”

  “It’s our pantry, Merek. It’s magical.” Arthur’s fingers danced as he cooed the last word.

  “Seriously, Godwin, what did you-”

  “I make no jests, Merek. Our pantry sources whatever meal you could possibly imagine. I’ve asked Mr. Ashdim time and time again how it works to no avail. All we can do is be thankful.” He gestured towards the food. “On that note, please do dig in- we have a conversation to attend to in the near future.

  Merek needed no further convincing, and was too starstruck to consider that the food may have been poisoned. As he ate, he was aghast at the perfection of the quality. He had never- never- had finer brisket, anywhere. Not even his fathers. It truly was perfect, and that’s where he understood. At that moment, he believed Arthur; he believed that there was magic involved. He had eaten far too many briskets not to notice. It was literally perfect. There was no human hand of error to give it character. By the time he finished, he was almost disappointed. It was a textbook, perfect meal. No character. “That was phenomenal,” he said mirthlessly.

  “Mmm,” Arthur replied simply, with a sound of agreement. It was as if he had noticed the same exact problem, and shared Merek’s disappointed dichotomy of flavor and experience.

  At least we agree on one thing, Merek thought, frowning as he wiped his mouth.