***
When Mercius awoke, he was in darkness. Recalling his flight from the dungeons in a flash that raced behind his eyes, he jumped to his feet. Tried to. He found that he was tied with his ankles bound to his wrists behind his back. His immediate thought was that he had been caught by a party of hunting demons, and that he was back in the dungeons awaiting Asgoroth’s punishment. However, he realized quickly that this couldn’t be a cell in the dungeon: the smell was wrong; the feel of the air was too fresh; the ceiling above him wasn’t nearly as oppressive. He was above ground, he was sure, but still bound and being held prisoner all the same. But his nakedness had been covered by some sort of rough cloth.
His eyes could catch very faint images of things around him; ghost images in the dark. He could see the shadowed outline of a door and four walls. The cell seemed to be spacious enough for him to walk around a little had he been able, and there was a shadow of something raised from the ground several feet, set against one wall. A cot of some sort, he assumed.
He did not have to wait long with his assumptions and suppositions. The door was opened presently, and torchlight came flickering through. In it he saw the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man. The figure stood above him for several minutes before he came in and silently released the tethers that held the prisoner. Mercius asked, “Where is this? Who are you?” His questions went unanswered as the man lifted him, none too gently, to his feet and guided him by the arm through the door. As he stepped through, he saw a courtyard with high wooden walls, and realization dawned instantly: he was in the very village that the demon party had terrorized on his only other outing from the dungeon; a raid that Mercius was himself a part of. Mercius wasn’t sure which would be worse: being in the clutches of the demon Asgoroth, or the vengeful humans whose inhabitants had been tormented by demons only recently. Mercius began to tremble. While the darkness of the dungeons and the ministrations of the demons would be more painful by far, at least there he knew what to expect. Here, he was entirely out of his element, and numb with fear and anticipation.
All around him, people were moving to and fro. It seemed to him that this much bustle was uncommon, and that something of import was happening. As he was led through the courtyard, he realized that the inhabitants of this village were planning a hurried departure. Women and children carried things as if they were rushed. There were carts staged near the broken gate in the log wall which were piled with bundles and various odds and ends. Mercius watched all of these happenings as he was unceremoniously escorted through the firelit courtyard to the largest building in the small, walled village. As they approached the door, his hulking, dark-haired escort gave a slight nod to a small boy standing there. The boy gave a nervous, furtive glance at the prisoner before opening the door and running through.
The man at Mercius' side gave a small sigh and closed the door behind the child.
“What goes on in here? My fate is decided?” Mercius asked the large man. He said nothing, and Mercius noticed no change in the man’s features. His face was strong and riddled with scars underneath what Mercius assumed was several days' worth of white stubble. Mercius thought he caught a darkness brooding in the older man‘s face, but he wasn‘t sure if he was mistaking that for simple sternness. The firelight flicked over the big man’s dark eyebrows and heavy jaw. His eyes were bright but grim, and his grip was gentle enough not to be painful, but firm enough to convince Mercius that, much the smaller in stature, he could not break free no matter how hard he tried.
After several moments the same small boy, no more than nine or ten years old, Mercius guessed, opened the door and stood aside. Mercius was ushered into a room with a long table running down the center. There sat many people. Mercius counted twenty-six, without even meaning to. His mind was trained to such things. He noticed immediately, also, that women outnumbered men. There were only five men seated, plus the one at his side, and these were all well past their physical prime.
The woman farthest from him, at the head of the table, Mercius recognized instantly as the short, dark-haired woman with the fiery blue eyes that he had locked eyes with during the raid.
His escort led him to the foot of the table, and there they stood for several excruciating moments, while the entire gathered company surveyed him and took in his every feature from head to toe. He felt their eyes upon him like spiders crawling on his flesh. There was no malice in their stares, as he had expected, but there was certainly no love either. Only grimness and steel.
After some time, the woman at the head of the table, with the air of leadership and command strong about her, spoke to Mercius' escort: “Thank you, Jax. You may be seated.” Mercius felt that the man was reluctant to release his hold, but he did, and sat in an open seat, mere paces away. He settled into the high-backed chair, and immediately took on an air of comfort and relaxation. Mercius noticed, however, that his eyes never strayed from himself, and his fists were clenched on the table. The matriarch at the head of the gathering noticed this, too, with a quick glance and a tiny, covert smile.
“Well,” the woman said, “we would know your purpose in the forest. You are no friend of ours, we know, but yet you have not as of yet been truly defined as an enemy. One of our number found you asleep and seemingly dead, and decided that you should be brought in so that we may speak to you.” Her eyes flickered toward the huge man, Jax, and away, almost too quickly to notice if Mercius hadn’t been watching carefully. “You have been here for three days now, and we, just this evening, have decided that your wounds are sufficiently healed to allow you to stand before us." Mercius glanced down at his body and realized, belatedly, that the many lacerations on his flesh were all scabbed over and on their way to fully healed. "You are obviously recognized,” she continued, “from the night when we were attacked. As I said, you are no friend of ours, and it has been slightly trying to keep you safe. I would, I say again, know your purpose, but I must warn you: lies or treachery will not be tolerated. I have done all in my power to keep you from harm this long, but the smallest deceit will see you murdered and your head on a pole within moments.” Her tone was so firm and determined that Mercius didn’t have a single doubt that he would be quickly destroyed if he gave them the slightest reason. He looked the woman in the eye for several more minutes, but he got the impression that it was more by her will than his: he would have looked away, but the fierceness of her eyes was compelling. “So,” she finally said, “speak on, and we shall listen. For now. But heed my warning, boy.”
Mercius stalled for several more seconds, taking measure of the people around the table. Jax, of course, was ready to kill him with his bare hands in an instant, not to mention the wickedly curved blades at his back. The others seemed less likely foes, but he refused to classify them as helpless. They all had anger and desperation in their eyes, and he knew that if he made a mistake now, they would mercilessly rip him apart and, indeed, put his head on a spike. The only one truly calm and composed was the woman who had addressed him. Therefore, he addressed her, speaking with strength and confidence, and never letting his gaze wander from hers:
“My name is Mercius. I was born in the dungeons of Asgoroth. I assume you know its location, but if not, it is in the heart of the desert that borders this village. I was raised in the care of Asgoroth himself. He is my father.” At this, there was a communal intake of breath, and eyes widened throughout the hall. “I was trained and brought up to hate everything human. I did what I was told when I was told. Not by any choice, but because I knew, as every child knows I’m sure, that disobeying means punishment. I therefore did as I was instructed. Until this place. It was my first time beyond the walls of the dungeon, and was to be my defining moment, as far as my master was concerned. My actions in this place, I’m sure, I need not recount.
“When I returned to the dungeons, I was beaten and tortured, as one would expect.” Mercius' words slo
wed as he steeled himself against the lump of emotion that balled up in his throat: “Then, something happened that I would never have believed possible. The demon Asgoroth showed me my mother.” Mercius wavered, fearing his voice would break and tears would fall. He continued: “It was the first time I had seen her since my birth, and something overcame me. I know not what it was, but Asgoroth said it was love. Regardless of what it was, he made me watch her tortured, brutalized, and savagely murdered. I made up my mind in a rage the like of which I had never known, and destroyed those demons that sought to detain me. I broke free, and fled the dungeons. I fought and killed those who stood before me, and finally emerged in the desert. The sun was just above the hills, and bright, and I ran. I ran until the desert ran out, fearing pursuit and torturous death. Then, I fell into exhaustion and weakness. The rest you know.”
Mercius allowed his story to settle for a moment, as the crowd glanced at one another, or at the table, thinking. Then, he continued. “I know that, were I in your position, I would grant no mercy for someone that had a hand in murdering my loved ones and imprisoning my family. I ask for none. I ask only that you do what you must swiftly. I will die if I must, and it will be much preferred to returning to Asgoroth’s dungeon. There, his demons would rip the soul from my body, and I would be cast into Hell for an eternity of eternities. If you wish to torture me and kill me, so be it. But I ask, in return for me helping you as much as I could the night of the attack, to have it done and over with. I have said all I will. Make your judgment, and be swift about it.”
The people around the table sat for several moments, then began to whisper into each other’s ears, conversing softly. Only two among them were still: Jax, and the bold woman at the head of the table. Both held their eyes firmly on Mercius. He felt scrutinized again, but gazed defiantly back at the woman. He would not cower before her, whatever happened. Finally, she raised her hand, and the gathering was suddenly silent.
“And what of the prisoners, Mercius? The ones who were stolen from here? Tell me what has become of them?”
At this, Mercius was a little nervous. He knew that they wanted to hear from him that they yet lived and could be returned to them, but knew that he could not lie to this woman, all the same. “I’m afraid,” he said, “that they are lost to you. They have been taken to the dungeons, and are slaves of Asgoroth. They will die there, either sooner or later. Sooner if they are fortunate.”
The crowd was stunned, with the harshness of his words, into silence.
“There is no hope for them, then?” asked the woman.
“I’m afraid that there is no such thing as hope in that place. Even to me it is just a word that I was taught. They are doomed, and that is certain.” At this, the woman’s face showed a slight crumpling, which was gone in an instant. Mercius believed that someone close to her had been captured.
But when she spoke, her voice was stern and strong again. “Very well. We must decide what to do with you. In the meantime, you will be given comfortable lodgings, but will be guarded at all times. You are not to leave your room unless summoned. You are not to speak to anyone unless spoken to. You will have food and water brought to you, but do not deceive yourself that you are our guest. You are a prisoner, and will behave as one. I warn you again, any transgression, even the slightest, will see your limbs at every corner of the walls, and your head on a spike.” With this she gestured slightly to Jax, who rose and grabbed him again by the arm, walking him toward the door.
Before he left, Mercius stopped and Jax allowed him to turn back to the gathering. “What is your name, woman?” he asked. There was a collective gasp from the others, and Jax‘s grip tightened on his arm, but the strong woman simply gave that small smile again.
“My name, Mercius, is Sophia. And your manners need improvement.” She gave another small gesture, and Mercius was escorted from the room. He was led around the firelit courtyard until he came to a long, stout building of logs. On the way he asked, “Why was everyone so astonished when I asked her name?” He spoke more to himself than to the man, because he believed he would receive no response.
Jax barked a gruff laugh, however, and said, “People don’t call Madam Sophia ‘woman.’ And any who do, live to regret it.”
“Is she such a cruel woman then?” Mercius asked in confusion. She seemed strong and willful, yes, but there was an air of kindness about her, too.
“Cruel?” Jax said, surprised. “Of course she is not cruel. She is strong and willful, but never cruel.” Mercius smiled to himself as the man repeated exactly what he was thinking. “She is possibly one of the greatest women who has ever lived, and everyone knows it. Except you. Her husband was one of the greatest men.” At this, Jax’s brow furrowed, and he was silent again. Mercius surmised that he was one of the men either killed or captured during the attack on the village.
Jax led Mercius to a door at one end of a long low building. As he entered, he saw that the small room was lit with a single torch on the wall which gave off black smoke. There was a raised cot in one corner, a wooden stool in another, and a small chest against one wall. The place was far more comfortable looking than the cell he had previously inhabited. Furthermore, there was a plate of food and a goblet placed upon the chest, and the smell that emanated from it was full and rich. Mercius hadn’t eaten in days, and he felt his mouth begin to water.
“You will stay here until you have been judged,” Jax said. “There is food and drink, and a bed to sleep in. I will be outside the door, should you need anything. And remember, if you step out of this room without my permission, I will kill you. Understood?” Mercius grinned to himself at the sternness of the man, and replied with a nod of his head. As soon as Jax closed the door upon leaving, Mercius went to the food that was set for him. It was strange to him, having only ever eaten in the dungeons of Asgoroth. His food had always been merely sustenance: raw meat, hard bread, foul water. This meal was totally foreign to him. He took a bite of the cooked meat, and nearly lost his mind with the pleasure of it. There was meat and some sort of mashed vegetable, along with a slice of warm bread that was soft and moist. His taste buds delighted, and as he washed it down with what he would later learn was chilled fruit juice, he was as happy as he could ever remember being.
He devoured the meal with the relish and determination of a starving beast, then lay on the cot, and promptly fell asleep.
Mercius' dreams were erratic and strange, but nevertheless he slept until nearly dawn, and woke refreshed and strong again. As he lay there in the grey hours, he thought of all that had happened to him recently, and what would come. He thought of his mother, and the skirmish over her corpse. Of the sword, Illuricht, that seemed to lust for blood. The frightening duel with Asgoroth. His escape and trek through the desert. The woman and the gathering that would soon determine his doom.
Mostly, he could not keep his mind from the overwhelming power that had consumed him and allowed him to escape from Asgoroth’s clutches. What had happened? He remembered the power flooding into him from some unknown place within him. He remembered the clarity with which he had suddenly seen his surroundings. Remembered the feeling of the power leaving his body with a force that could not be described, and lashing out at his foe. Then, he remembered nothing. There was a gap in his memory between the roaring power within him, and the surprise at awakening to find his enemy dazed and thwarted. Mercius was terrified of this phenomenon. He had never heard of its like, and could not understand it.
He pondered this continuously until there was a soft knock at the door, and, several heartbeats later, it was opened. In walked Jax, followed by the woman Sophia. A tight ball of apprehension immediately sprang into his throat. He had no idea what their judgment would be, but he found that he was terribly anxious and afraid.
Lying on his cot, he looked up at the pair as they entered. Jax towered over the woman, but Sophia
’s presence was commanding and nearly tangible. Her stern eyes peered long at Mercius, until he felt revealed to his very bones. “What have you decided?” Mercius asked finally, still lying comfortably on his bed.
Jax, fury written on his brow, growled low but harsh, “Stand when you address the Lady.”
“Be at ease, my friend,” Sophia said. “He does not know what is proper.” Her voice was soft and sweet, and there was the smallest hint of a smile on her lips. “He is right, though, boy. It is impolite to lie comfortably, while others stand. Rise, and we shall speak.”
Mercius rose, and said this: “Forgive me lady. As you say, I do not know your ways. I meant no offense, and if I did I would indeed be a fool, with the giant Jax standing so near me.” He forced a smile, but neither of them were amused. Mercius sighed inaudibly at his first failed attempt at humor. He would have to work on that, if he ever got the chance.
It was apparent that Jax was in the room as a guard, and possibly an enforcer of manners. The man had an air about him of casualness, but Mercius could tell that at the slightest instigation, he would uncoil like a whip and kill Mercius if at all possible.
Sophia sensed this as well, and turned to face the man. “Jax,” she said, kindly enough, but brooking no argument, “leave us for awhile. I’m sure Mercius means no further harm, and we won’t be long.” Grudgingly, Jax backed out of the room with a last warning glance in Mercius' direction. When the door closed, Sophia walked to the bed and sat, her back straight. She motioned Mercius to do the same, and he sat as far from her as possible. He felt no fear of the woman, physically; she was a full foot shorter than him, and while her limbs were firm with muscle, she was no threat to his youthful strength. However, he felt that if he were too near her, she would be able to peer into his very soul, or know his thoughts somehow. Such was the power of her will, her eyes, and such was Mercius' agitation at this new situation.
“I will tell you this to begin,” she said as she stared into his eyes. “We have already decided what to do with you, and that is very nearly set in stone. But I am curious as to your goals. What would be your next course, were it up to you? Where would you go? What would you do?”
Mercius pondered her words, chewing on his lower lip. “Until you mentioned it,” he said at last, “I truthfully hadn’t considered it. You must understand: my entire life has been planned out for me. From the very moment of my birth, Asgoroth was in complete control of my fate, and I was left with very few decisions to myself. I have never been asked what I would do, with the exception of war strategy, if given a choice. As you can imagine, the question is difficult for me to answer. I suppose that I would ask you and your counsel to point me in the direction of another village where I might be of some use. But that is only a convenient response that came into my head just now, and I honestly have no idea what course I should take from here. But, since you have already told me that you have decided my fate, I am fortunate enough to not have to make that decision.”
“Well,” she replied, “I can understand your state of mind. If the dungeons of these demons are half what I expect they are, then you, indeed, have lived a horrible life. Although you may not have known it. It is for that very reason that we have decided not to kill you. A dog cannot be blamed for following its master’s commands, no matter how atrocious they are. And most of the people left here were witness to that night, and your actions. We did not forget while we were passing judgment. However, you are, for all intents and purposes, a beast trained by a vicious master. And even the lowest beast will show loyalty to a certain degree.” Here, she raised her hand commanding silence as Mercius tried to protest. “I already know what your argument will be, and I have no wish to hear it. The fact that you ran from your home, or prison, or whatever you like to call it, has little bearing on the mind of these people. You were raised and lived with demons, and cannot be trusted.
“It having been said that we will not kill you, but cannot trust you, your fate is banishment. This village, as you may have noticed, will no longer be our home. We are leaving, and you are banished from ever coming near us again. Despite what conclusions you may have drawn during the raid, you should understand that these people are fierce and determined. We will kill you on the spot, if ever you are seen again. In the meantime, we cannot let you leave just yet. When we leave, there will be someone here to prevent you from following, and then our ways will part.”
She looked long and consideringly at Mercius for some time, during which he didn’t speak or move. At last, she said, softly, almost to herself, “There is goodness in you, I think. It is smothered and hidden deep inside you, but perhaps, one day, it will spark and burn with brightness.” She looked at him, but did not seem to see him, until she rose suddenly. “The best of luck to you, Mercius, wherever your travels take you. And I thank you for saving the few of us that you did. That will live on in my heart forever, and so will you. Farewell, Mercius.”
She strode quickly to the door, and as she opened it, Mercius jumped from the bed and said, “Wait!” She turned to him, with a questioning look on her brow. His tongue suddenly froze, in the face of that cool gaze, and it took him some time before he could speak again: “Who did you lose?” he asked in a whisper that was barely audible.
Sophia’s face gave the slightest hint of grief, for the briefest of moments, before she said with strength in her voice: “My husband was among the front line. He was killed almost immediately after they…you…came through the wall. My son. He was taken. I believe what you say that he is lost to me forever, and that has truly broken my heart. But I will move on and keep him in my thoughts always.” She turned and walked out of the door. Mercius wanted to chase after her and tell her how sorry he was, but he knew, picturing his dead mother, that it wouldn’t matter. He knew her pain, he thought. How could he tell her? How could she believe that a demon-man could possibly feel love or grief or sorrow? How could she know that Mercius had a heart, and that it was breaking for her?
Mercius was left alone in the room with the door open. He was stunned by the absolute finality of Sophia’s speech. He was left with no option but to succumb to her will. He would abide by her decision because he had no other choice. Beside which, felt obliged to these people that held him, because of who he was, and what he had been a part of. True, he hadn’t ever killed a human, but he was involved in the raid that had shattered their peace. He had ridden with the enemy, and now felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Mercius felt as if he was being ripped in two: he had been born and bred to feel nothing, yet his emotions were running wild. He felt for the people of this small village. It was a feeling he had never felt; indeed, it was a feeling he had been trained to suffocate and smother. But now, his sense of remorse and sorrow was extremely present. It came as a jolt, but subsided into a dull pain in his belly that he, at first, could not understand.
When finally he realized that what he was feeling was regret, pity, sorrow, he realized something else: Mercius understood that his feelings were natural, and that he had spent his life being deceived. These emotions that were warring inside of him were not weaknesses. Instead, they were human. Asgoroth had never been able to convey to Mercius the vitality of feelings. In his demon mind, emotions were pathetic and worthless. Mercius was now beginning to understand that they were a part of human life, and something that could not be replicated or bred or controlled. They were life. Human life. Mercius had always been told that he was demonic, and his human weaknesses would fade with time and training. Now, he found, his human side was truly surfacing, and was stronger than anything he had ever experienced. He came to the tenuous conclusion that he would help instead of hinder, create instead of destroy, savor instead of devour. It was a new thought, and one that would require much time and dedication, but one that he knew was true and powerful.
When finally Mercius woke himself from his reverie, he realized that
the sunshine was coming in bright rays from the small window high in the wall of his room, and that the village was alive with the sounds of people. He rose from his cot, and walked to the door, which still hung open on its hinges. Peeking his head out timidly, he saw Jax standing tall and heavy just outside the door. Just as Mercius put his head out, Jax stiffened and turned quickly towards him. When Mercius was spotted, he walked out as confidently as he could, and looked the man in the eye.
Jax was enormous not only in height, standing half a foot taller than Mercius, but also in build: his shoulders were extremely broad, his arms the size of the average man’s thigh, his neck thickly roped with taut muscle, his legs were slightly bowed at the knees, but strong and thick. The skin on his hands and arms was roped with scars, some recent and glaring, others older and blending. The dark brown hair, streaked with red from the sun, was shaggy around his ears, and framed a face that was strong of jaw and brow. His eyes, although crinkled around the edges, were a fierce blue that seemed to miss nothing.
Jax glared at Mercius as he slowly exited the room. Mercius, knowing that the wrong move would cost him his life, stood outside the room, opposite the door from Jax. He looked into the courtyard for several moments, noting the organized chaos that was ensuing. There were, as before, people rushing to and fro, carrying, pushing, hauling. There were no idol bodies. Everyone seemed to have a pressing task that could not wait. Most of the bundles being carried, Mercius noticed, were smaller and much more random than the night before. In fact, it seemed as if all of the major packing was done, as there were nearly three dozen carts and wagons staged before the great wooden doors that were overflowing with baggage and goods. There was an air of departure about the place.
“Will you leave today,” Mercius asked Jax.
“Nearly all is ready,” the big man replied, “but they will not leave until the sun sets, at the earliest.”
Stunned, Mercius said this: “They will depart at night? That is not a good idea. In fact, it is extremely unwise!”
Jax, apparently surprised by his vehemence, turned to Mercius and said, “What makes you an expert on relocating townships? What do you know about moving people? And why do you have such a harsh reaction to what I tell you?”
Mercius, trying to speak calmly, and almost succeeding, said, “The demons will hunt you at night. They will be much more vigilant when there is no sun. They can function during the day, but are much more deadly at night. If you leave by the light of the stars, the demons will find you easy prey, and will slaughter you before you know they are there. The sun is not comfortable for them, and they would much rather feast in darkness than in light.” Mercius peered at Jax, who was silent but seemed to be considering his words. Mercius watched him for a moment then said, “I promise you, Jax, if you leave after nightfall, you will all be dead before morning.”
Jax stood with furrowed brow for several moments. Then, suddenly, he summoned a small girl who was running by them with a shout and a wave of his had. “Bring me the Lady Sophia,” he said, “and be quick about it.” The girl stared at him with eyes of wonder for several seconds, before darting away. To Mercius, he said, “I ask you to wait in your room, until this is resolved. I will call you when I am ready.”
Mercius retreated into his room. He sat on the bed, and waited. He pictured in his mind the small girl being savagely ripped apart in the light of the moon, as would surely happen, and shuddered at the thought. All that he could think was that the people of this small village were so filled with fear and desperation following the attack on them that they were not thinking clearly; that was the only reason he could give for such a foolish notion of traveling after nightfall.
When Jax opened the door, Mercius bound to his feet and approached. The man beckoned him outside, and they stood, once again, on either side of the door. Jax said nothing, and stared into the courtyard, expressionless. Mercius finally asked, “What has the Lady decided?”
Jax didn’t answer immediately, but after awhile he said, “I told her what you said. As close to exact as I could come. She asked me if you told the truth.” Here he paused for several minutes, and Mercius chose not to break the silence. Jax continued: “I told her that I saw truth in your face, and heard it in your words. I’m not sure if she is convinced, but I know that I am. I believe that traveling at night is perilous, and as much I told her. Whether she will agree, in the end, is yet to be decided.”
“I thank you for that, Jax,” Mercius said. “I know that my word doesn’t mean much in this place, but I thank you for taking my words for what they are: the truth. I do not deceive you, but there is no way for me to prove that.” With this, Mercius lowered his eyes and said no more, knowing that he was considered a beast among men.
Silence persisted.
When Jax finally spoke, Mercius saw that he was looking at him, and when Mercius met his eye, Jax held it and did not look away. “Sophia,” Jax said, “said that she sees goodness in you. Most people would doubt that, because you were raised among the evil. But I see in your eyes something that I cannot describe. There is truth there, I’m sure, but there is also something else. Some men are wholesome, some men stout, others are twisted and ugly. You, however, seem to hold goodness and evil inside of yourself. I am not a man of words, and it is hard for me to explain; indeed, I don’t know why I’m trying to tell you now, except that I feel compelled somehow. Your eyes tell me to be wary, yet trustful. It is something that I have never seen before. There is a darkness, I think, that shrouds the light that you hold. If I was your enemy in a battle, I would fear you, and were I your ally, I would cherish you, but both are mixed together: were I to ride with you to war, I would fear you, and were I to see you amongst my enemies, I would honor you.” Jax paused, again with furrowed brow, then said, “As I said, I am not a man of words. At any rate, I have spoken too much.” Then he was silent.
Mercius, confounded into silence by the man’s words, said only this: “I will be in my room until you call on me.” He walked back to his cot, and sat for several hours contemplating what he had heard. He felt the darkness within him, as he always had, yet it was overlaid and interspersed with the emotions he had so recently learned. The desire to kill had not left him entirely, as it was ingrained into his every thought, but it had subsided and altered: he no longer wanted to destroy the human race, as Asgoroth had encouraged, but wanted to kill all those that threatened Sophia and Jax, and the people they loved. He could not decipher these feelings any more than a wolf could understand his hunger: it was something that burned and thrived inside of him.
When the door to his room was finally opened, Mercius was grateful for the disruption of his jumping thoughts. He sprang to his feet, and saw Jax walk into the room. “We leave at dawn,” he said, and turned to leave again.
Before he could, Mercius said, “Jax, please, I have a question that has been bothering me.”
Jax turned, and gave a querulous look.
“I was told,” Mercius said, “that I was banished from your people. You tell me that you plan to leave at dawn, but what is to keep me from following you?”
Jax almost smiled, and said, “I am.”
“I do not understand.”
“The rest of the village will leave, and I will stay to guard you for a day and a night. Then I will leave, and you will be on your own.”
Mercius said, “What makes you think that I won’t follow you?”
Jax, that almost smile on his face still, said, “I will not allow it. I haven't been chosen to stay behind because of my charm. I've been told that I am the best woodsman in the town. Most say this because they don't know very many. I have traveled these woods, and many others, and I know how to hide and run, and stand and fight. Some say that none can track me. Yet again, they say this because they don’t know many trackers. But, I know if somebody is following me, be it demon or human or beast. I have enough skill to kn
ow what comes behind, and if I sense you behind me, I will ambush and kill you. There aren’t any others up for this task, so I will stay with you for a day and a night, and then I will leave. After that, you may go your own way. If you choose to follow, I will kill you.” Jax’s face was still almost smiling. He was a grim man, but not without a grim sense of humor.
Mercius spent the rest of the day in his room, having no desire to see the ugly stares of the villagers, and spent the night in tossing, restless sleep. When he woke it was nearly dawn, and he could hear the creaking of the great wooden doors being pushed aside, and the wheels of the carts beginning their journey. It seemed, from the sound of it, that it was well-organized and efficient. The noise of people, carts and horses, died out within an hour, by his estimation. Mercius waited for another hour, before he rose and walked to the door.
He gave a timid knock, and waited for the door to swing inward. When it did, he saw Jax standing there. The man motioned his assent for Mercius to come outside. Yet again, as had been their pattern, they stood on either side of the door, and looked upon the now empty courtyard
The place was deserted. Apparently the exodus had gone smoothly and quickly. All that was left, the only sign that this wooden village had ever been inhabited, was some discarded crates and torn clothing. There was an air of loneliness about the place, and a stillness that Mercius had never before experienced. He shuddered with the newness of it, but, slowly, as he stood silently next to Jax, the quiet grew on him and infected him with what he could only describe as peace.
Eventually, Jax brought some wooden crates for them to sit on, and they spent the day relaxing in silence. Mercius had never had a day of laziness or relaxation, and he found it incredible; he was entirely at peace, no matter what the day may bring, or the next. His thoughts ambled aimlessly, but he gave them no direction, and focused on nothing more important than the sound of the breeze or the smell of the forest.
The day was spent in almost total silence: Jax was extremely reticent, and gave monosyllabic responses to Mercius' questions, if he gave any. Usually, when Mercius inquired about Jax’s life, he just grunted and turned away. It wasn’t long before the younger man realized that Jax was not going to yield any information, about himself or otherwise. So he simply sat and listened and watched the sun arc across the sky. They ate some dried meat and fruit that Jax had in a satchel at his side, around midday. Even this simple meal was incredibly delicious to Mercius, and he savored every bite.
Finally, the sun set in a flash of orange and pink, and Jax rose from his seat. “I will leave you to your bed,” he said. “I will be gone before the sun rises. No need to see me off.” This he uttered with a sardonic half-smile. “I urge you again not to attempt to follow me. It will only end in your death. Farewell, Mercius.” With that, he strode away.
Mercius sat on his crate for several more minutes before resigning himself to his room. After several moments of lying on his cot, the utter relaxation of the day caught up to him, and he fell deeply into a restful sleep.