***
When finally Mercius came back to consciousness Keira was standing over him. She had a worried look on her face, mixed with the strength that he found so alluring. Her eyes were haggard and tired. He spoke, and found that his voice was rasping and thin: “Keira, how long have I been here? And how long have you been here?”
She didn’t smile. Her face was entirely expressionless when she said, “I have been here for nearly two weeks, Mercius. And you were ill for two before that. Nearly an entire month has passed since the battle on the hill.”
“I feel better,” Mercius said, trying to raise himself up onto his elbows. Her hand pressed firmly against his chest, pinning him back to the blankets on which he lay. At his full strength, she wouldn’t have been able to do that, but he was as weak as an infant, and had no choice but to lay back, helpless.
“This is the first time that you have been fully coherent since I came here,” she said. “I take it as a good sign, but there is still sickness in you.”
“What happened to me?” Mercius asked her. He could feel the wounds that he had suffered, and knew that none of them were life threatening. He had received much worse in his youth. Nevertheless, it felt as if his body had been run through a meat grinder. He was in pain, and he was too weak to ignore it.
Keira, seemingly reading his thoughts, said, “The wounds that you have suffered are not the cause of this illness. Those are nearly totally healed. A new set of scars is all they are now. No, this sickness in you is deeper, and strange. It’s as if your body is wasting away. I cannot explain it, but it must have something to do with your actions on the battle field. I was told that you killed nearly a hundred demons single handedly, and that not all of them you killed with your sword. This is something new and strange, and it makes me uneasy. You may have saved the day, with this magic, but it has nearly cost you your life.” Mercius was struck with memory. The hilltop. The demon charge. The power flowing through him. The wild abandon with which he killed demon after demon. Keira saw the confusion on his face and said, “You must rest now, Mercius. Tomorrow you will feel even better, and we can start getting you strong again.”
“Why have you come here, Keira?” Mercius said. She averted her eyes, peering down at her hands.
“I…do not know,” she finally said. “I was hoping that it would become clear when I got here, but now I’m not sure. Rest, and I will speak to you again when you wake.” Mercius fell asleep. It was a sleep that he had not had since the battle; calm and deep and natural. Just seeing Keira seemed to work wonders for his health. He thought, just before sleep took him, that he would be up and about tomorrow, talking to her and drinking in her beauty.
Mercius' recovery was quick after that. The next day, he was able to stand and walk. He spoke briefly with Jax and Sophia, but they were reticent about why they had come, and brushed the question off repeatedly, telling him that they could discuss it when he was well. Day after day, Mercius improved greatly. By the third day, he was able to mount his horse. Fury skittered and jumped under him, wanting to run. He resisted the urge to give in, though, and simply rode around the camp, speaking briefly with the members of the Blade. It lit their hearts, he could see, that he was back among the living and apparently on the road to a full recovery. Within a week, Mercius was able to lift his sword, and took to practicing with the troop for hours at a time. His strength returned rapidly, and with it, a conviction that he would never allow himself to get so carried away. The affect it had on those that he led was terrible, and it was selfish for him not to learn to control the power that was laying dormant in him.
Finally, after avoiding his questions for so long, Jax and Sophia agreed to speak with him. Keira, also, said that she would join the discussion, and add her story to the others. When Mercius had heard them out, he sat silently for a time, pondering what they had said, and what it meant that they were so obviously tied to him. It made his heart leap with excitement that his friends were with him, and even more so Keira. But, it also added to his burden, and he now felt responsible for the three of them. He already had a great weight on his shoulders that he was forced to look after the Merconium Blade, and the added responsibility was unexpected. Apparently, he didn’t hide his emotions as well as he thought; Jax read them and laughed, saying this:
“Fear not, lad. We will not hold you responsible for our fates. We came here, all three of us, of our own free will. We felt your need, for sure, but we made our decisions, and they were entirely our own. You need not trouble yourself with our well being.”
Mercius smiled sardonically, as usual stunned by Jax's ability to read him like a book. “Thank you, friend,” he said. “But my heart is heavy. I have had a—" he paused, not knowing how to continue. Finally, he just looked at them and told them: “I have had a vision, of sorts. That is all that I can call it, because it was no ordinary dream. It was something else; something heavier and deeper.” When they prodded him lightly to tell what he meant, he did. His voice was hesitant at first, not sure how to convey something that he didn’t truly understand himself. But, when he started speaking of Nephilia, his voice grew strong and confident, as if the very mention of the glorious being hardened his will, and strengthened his resolve. When he finished, they all stared at him for some time, taking in all he had said.
Finally, Sophia spoke. “That is heavy, indeed. Do you truly believe that you are going to be a scourge to the demons on this world?”
“I don’t know,” Mercius said, honestly. “It is hard for me to believe that I can make a difference, especially in a battle that has been waged for so long, and a scheme that was spawned so many eons ago. But I do know that what the angel told me, I believe. That I must hunt and kill them. And, to be honest, it seems as if her bidding has relieved me of a great burden. Until now, I had no clue as to where I would go, or what I would do. Now I have a purpose, no matter how impossible it may be. I will not ask anyone to join me. This is my mission, that I will undertake by myself. Whoever chooses to join me, I will gladly accept, as long as each knows that it is almost certainly a losing cause.”
After several pregnant moments, Jax said, “We’ll need more men.” Mercius had expected a grin on Jax's face, but it was stern and contemplative. “The Merconium Blade is a mighty force, to be sure, but they will not be enough. Especially once the demon lords divine our purpose. They will come after us with everything they possess, and seek to crush us to dust. Not to mention that you lost a dozen good fighting men at the hilltop battle. Not a large loss, considering, but detrimental nonetheless.”
Sophia and Keira were staring at Jax, unsure of whether or not he was serious. “Jax,” Mercius said, “I will not ask you to join me. You have a wife and a home. You deserve peace, not death. And death will almost surely find us.”
Jax responded: “True. I could go back to Drurador and live in peace and comfort. But for how long? How long before the attacks on the city become more than just exercises in fear? How long before the demons overwhelm us entirely, and kill the men, rape the women, enslave the children? How long?”
Mercius had no response, but after several heartbeats, Sophia spoke up with her own reasoning: “And how long before we hear you calling to us again? How long before we are helpless yet again, and must come running to you? I believe I speak for all of us when I say that the feeling that I got was not dismissible. If I hadn’t come to you, I would have surely gone insane with the need to do so. No, Mercius, Jax and I will come with you, to whatever end. You are stuck with us again, I’m afraid.” Her smile was warm and her eyes strong.
Mercius turned his plea to Keira. “Please, Keira,” he said, “surely you do not wish to join in this madness. I'm sure that it's suicide, and will not happily allow you to throw your life away as well. You barely even know me.”
“You’re right,” she replied. “I barely know you. But, the urge I had to co
me to you was just as strong as the one that gripped Sophia, or Jax. And, for the record, I agree with Jax. We have been living in the city of Drurador, believing ourselves safe forever, but we all know that it cannot last. One day, the city will be murdered and leveled. I have spent my whole life fearing and waiting for that day to come, as I know it will. I will wait no more. Fear, I have learned to live with. But I am coming with you. Wherever that may lead.”
Mercius looked at the three of them helplessly. Finally, he sighed and said, “Very well. If you all choose to live horrible lives up until the moment you die screaming, I will let you. But, it will be hard and horrifying. We will be hunted and tormented, and we will almost certainly die horribly.” His mind full of emotions he couldn’t control, he stood and walked away from them, saying over his shoulder, “We march at dawn.”
After several days' march, a scout came hustling back to the main troop. He was breathing heavily, and his horse was blowing hard. “There’s a troop directly in our path, sir,” he said. “Half a day north.”
“Demons?” Mercius asked.
“No, sir,” the young soldier replied. “Men. Well-armed, but not armored to speak of. Two hundred and fifty strong, and all on foot.” He paused and took up a study of the reins in his hands.
“What is it, Bulric?” Mercius asked. “There’s more you’re not telling us.”
Bashfully, the young man said, “I might have been spotted, sir. I am a good scout; one of the best, I’m told. But I’m afraid that theirs are better. I was lying low in some bushes, and when I crawled back to my horse, I saw him hidden in the trees, staring at where I had been hiding. Forgive me, sir.”
Mercius looked hard at him. Not in anger, but in confusion. Who were these men that marched much like the Merconium Blade? What were their intentions? Were they friendly? “There’s nothing to forgive,” Mercius said to the soldier. “You did your best, and I have a feeling that they are nothing for us to fear.” He glanced at Jax, and the man seemed, as usual, to know what he was thinking. “We will continue our march, but we will be prepared for them if they prove to be hostile. Battle formations starting immediately. I doubt that we will need to use our might against these men, but we will be ready if we must.” Darius, give the order, if you please.”
After the orders were given and the march commenced, Jax pulled his horse closer to Mercius. “You are smart to be ready, but don’t you think that it might be better to avoid this group of men entirely? We are outnumbered, and while we might win a fight with them, our losses will be great. And that we cannot afford.”
Mercius looked at him, his scarred face studying the older man’s. “No,” he finally said, “my heart tells me that if they are men, they must be enemies of the Hell-spawn. I will at least know their purpose.” Jax smiled broadly and said:
“Good lad. That is the exact thing that I would do in your position.” During a moment of silence, Jax’s face became grim once again. “I do have a question that has been bothering me for some time, however.” Mercius raised an eyebrow and motioned for the man to continue. “My question is this: where are we going? We march every day, and for anyone that came upon us it looks as if we have a purpose. But we do not. If our goal is to hunt demons, we are failing miserably. We haven’t had a single encounter since you decided upon this course, and it seems as if we won’t ever. And I fear that if we do finally stumble upon a host, it will be one sent to destroy us, and they will succeed. We need direction. The Blade needs direction. If we continue to wander aimlessly, eventually we will be killed. Even if we survive every battle, our losses will slowly cripple us. We need a plan, or we are doomed. This mission of yours is already a suicidal one, but if we have no purpose, it will only become more so.” He paused and looked hard at Mercius, making sure that he was listening. He was, and Jax’s words mirrored his own thoughts of late. “Furthermore,” Jax continued, “if we are to meet with these men that our scout has found, it would appear very weak indeed if we admit that we are simply blundering through the wastes looking for demons to kill. We know where they are, Mercius. We must go there, no matter how deadly it seems.”
Mercius pondered his words for several minutes, the only sounds the men and women marching at his back, and the pad of their horses' hooves on the blackened dirt beneath them. Finally, he said: “I have had a darkness in my heart and my mind since this began. I know what I have to do, yet I am filled with doubt.” Jax waited silently as Mercius gathered his thoughts. Mercius continued: “The dungeon that I grew up in. I am compelled to return. I feel that I must go there and confront Asgoroth. I do not know why this feeling returns to me no matter how hard I reason it away, but it will not relent. Asgoroth is a plague to the entire world that he controls, and his control will only broaden with time. He must be stopped if we are ever truly to be free, but I am frightened to the marrow of going back to that place. It seems like denying my every instinct to return, yet I cannot shake the thought from my head and my heart. Is that insane?”
He didn’t expect a response, but one came from one of the other two men that rode with him at the head of the Merconium Blade. “Of course it’s insane,” said Darius. “But, in all honesty Mercius, this whole situation is nothing short of madness. We left our homes and our families for this; for you. Now, because you had a fever dream, we follow you on a hopeless mission to slaughter the fiends of Hell.” He was grinning, taking the insult from the words. “If you ask me, which of course you haven’t yet, but would if you had half a brain, we should go to the fuckin’ dungeons and kill as many demons as we can before they tear us limb from limb.” His grin, as well as his talk, gave him the look and sound of a maniac, but Mercius had come to expect nothing less of his friend.
Peter said, “Sir, however ill-mannered and annoying Darius may be, I think that he is right in this, and so is Jax. If we carry on as we are, we will not last the year. We will all slowly die of hunger and fatigue and battle, and in the end we will have forsaken our lives in Drurador for nothing. If, however, we make our most valiant effort to destroy the reign of Asgoroth, we will not have died in vain. So far we have been lucky, and not lost very many of the Blade, but that will not last, I assure you. And, as far as the assault on the dungeons being successful, that is for fate to decide. We should storm the keep, and deal with the consequences. I shouldn’t have to say it by now, but the Blade is behind you no matter what you decide. But you must decide something, or we will fall.”
Mercius rode in silence, chewing his lower lip. Their advice was solid and true, but he was still loathe to confront Asgoroth. He was not afraid of death; in fact, he almost wished for it at times, if only to put an end to all of his questions. But he was responsible for the Blade, and his friends, and horrified to lose them, or to lead them into death.
With a heavy heart, and a looming darkness in his mind, Mercius said, “Very well. I am not at all looking forward to it, but we will begin to make our way towards Asgoroth’s dungeons, and whatever doom awaits us there. Gather the men. They need to have a part in this decision, for it affects them as much as us.”
Darius grinned his wolfish grinned and said, “You can ask them if you like, but we both know what they will say.”
Darius was right. Mercius told his troops what he intended to do, again giving them the option to abandon the campaign with no shame. But, to his surprise and slight dismay, they cheered the idea with a single shout, weapons stabbing toward the sky. Darius grinned at him.
“There they are,” said Peter quietly. Mercius had been lost in thought, not even paying attention to the great horse beneath him. When he looked up, he saw the troop of men crowded onto the top of a low hill. The Merconium Blade had just crested a slight rise in the land, and it sloped now before them, into a wide, shallow valley, with the occupied hilltop in its center. It was a perfect place to confront an enemy; the men had a commanding view of
all the land around them, as well as the advantage of the high ground. They were formed up much as the Blade had been during the last demon attack. Mercius called a halt, and the two companies stared at each other from a distance.
Eventually, Mercius said, “I will go discover their purpose here.” He kneed his horse to a walk, ignoring the protestations of Peter and Darius. As he rode his horse he saw two mounted men from the opposing troop break away and make their way down the hilltop towards him. Almost immediately thereafter, he heard a horse approaching him from behind. When the rider came abreast of him he glanced over and saw that it was Sophia. He was too stunned to say anything, so he just raised a questioning eyebrow at the woman.
“If they send two, so shall we,” she said, her tone allowing no argument. Mercius smiled to himself and rode slowly on.
When the two parties met halfway between their respective groups of soldiers, they stopped several paces from each other. Mercius eyed the pair. One was an old man that seemed as solid as a tree trunk. His grey hair was tied into several braids that hung down the sides of his head, and looked as if they had been there for years. His face was scarred and as hard as granite, with dark eyes that held a fire that surprised Mercius; it was as if there was a hatred burning there, but Mercius somehow knew that it was simply the intensity of the man himself. In one scarred, thick fist, he gripped the reins of his small chestnut gelding, the other was locked on the handle of the spiked club that hung from his saddle. While this old, hardened man was impressive and daunting, he seemed dwarfed by the man that rode at his side.
His skin and hair were black as coal. His hair was done in the same fashion as the old man’s, with braids hanging down the sides and back of his head. Above his shoulder protruded the hilt of the sword that was strapped to his back. His eyes burned with intensity as well, but there was no hatred there. Only wisdom. And compassion. The man’s eyes were bright and green, much like Mercius' own, but seeming even brighter in the dark face; more subtle, yet more stunning. They gave a softness to the man; a trait that Mercius believed was very deceptive. He held himself as if he was confident and fearless. As if he would kill and love with equal intensity and equal skill.
Both men were dressed similarly: they had black leather vests on their chests, studded with iron, and black leggings crossed with strips of thick brown leather. Around their forearms, both men wore bracelets of white bone that entwined and encased them from wrist to elbow. The contrast on the dark man was stunning. On the older it looked as if it had grown there rather than been placed. Mercius suddenly noticed something that had escaped him at first sight due to the power of the man himself. There were skulls hooked to the saddle of the black man. Mercius counted a dozen. They were not human, however. The strange shapes and snouts and horns attested to the fact that they were demon skulls, ripped from the heads of fallen Hell-spawn.
Mercius became aware that the scrutiny was not one-sided; the two men were staring at him and Sophia as well. Sophia in her riding dress that was stained with travel, and Mercius in his armor that shone brightly. His helmet, crested with black horse hair, was just as dented as his breastplate and leg greaves, he knew. The black man spoke first, and his voice was clear and strong, mirroring the confidence that shone in his eyes and his bearing:
“Who are you, and what business do you have in the wastes?” He was staring directly into Mercius' eyes as he said it, but it was Sophia who answered him:
“Sir,” she said with a tone that Mercius recognized instantly; the tone that was slightly offended and demanded respect and courtesy. She had put many in line with this tone of voice alone, and Mercius almost cringed as she used it on the stranger as if he were some inconsiderate citizen. “Where I come from, it is polite to introduce yourself before demanding answers. I don’t know where you come from, but I will not tolerate rudeness. First, you tell us who you are, politely, and then we will answer your questions. If you refuse, then we will do battle and every one of your men will die.”
Mercius stared hard at Sophia, willing her to silence. The black man’s back stiffened visibly, and his jaw tightened. The older man at his side, however, struggled to suppress a smile. Finally, the older of the pair replied: “Forgive my friend, my lady. He is an oaf and a child. He was never instructed how to speak to strangers. Also, we have been riding and fighting for a very long time, and I fear that he is becoming more barbaric by the day.” Sophia smiled at the man in amusement, but his companion stared at him balefully. The old man took no notice.
After several moments, during which Mercius was fully prepared to see the man pull his sword and attack them, the dark man said, “Forgive me, my lady. You are right, of course. My name is Griffin, and this is Eliah. If it pleases you, and if you can find it in your heart to forgive my terrible manners, I would ask you your names and your purpose here.”
Mercius jumped in before Sophia could answer. “This is the lady Sophia, and I am called Mercius. Our meeting is more coincidence than anything. We are simply traveling from one point to the next. But what of you, I wonder. You carry the skulls of demons at your side, and that interests me.”
The man answered stiffly: “I carry an emblem of strength. Do your people not do the same?”
“No,” Mercius replied, “we carry no such emblems, but it makes me glad to see them on you. It means that we fight the same fight. We are both enemies of demons and their masters. On that, at least, we can agree.”
The man grunted, but gave no other response. Sophia decided to speak her mind: “I would love to continue this conversation, but your men seem antsy, as are ours. If you wish to do battle, then say the word. If not, I would like some place where I can sit at ease, instead of atop a sweaty horse.”
The black man looked at her for a long time before swinging his gaze to Mercius. “Your lady speaks boldly again,” he said. “Very well. I have no reason to fight with you, yet. We shall sit, and talk. Come to my camp, where there is a tent and a fire and food. There, we can discuss our goals and divine each other’s motives.”
“Your invitation is most generous, sir,” Sophia said, “but I have no reason yet to trust you. You can come to our camp, where I will feel much safer. There we can talk, and you shall have what you have offered us.” Mercius looked at her again, hoping to tell her with his glance that she wasn’t helping. She ignored him, however, glaring at the men before her.
“Now you must forgive my companion,” Mercius said. “She is used to being obeyed, and I fear that she sometimes forgets that we are no longer in the city. We will come to your camp, but under conditions only.” The black man nodded him on. Mercius said, “You must allow us a few moments to inform my legion what is happening. Also, my friends must be present. There are three of them, and they are good men. Lastly, your men must disperse from their battle formations, as will mine. It will do neither of us any good to have our platoons staring at each other across the valley all day, waiting for attack. Can you accept these conditions, Griffin?”
The man looked at his compatriot, the old man grinning and nodding shortly. “Yes,” Griffin said, “what you have said seems fair. Go to your troop for as long as you need. When you come to my camp, you will not be harassed. For now, farewell.” With that, the man turned his horse and galloped back towards his men. The old man at his side followed, but not before he gave Sophia a knowing smile. She returned it, and Mercius wondered what the two older people knew that they didn’t tell the younger men.
When they reached the Blade, Mercius told Jax and Darius and Peter what had transpired. Sophia was silent, which Mercius didn’t know how to take. Nevertheless, the three listened to him and decided that they would go with Mercius to Griffin’s camp.
The Blade made camp as they always did; they dug a trench around the camp, lining it with spears, keeping the horses and supplies in the middle, surrounded by cook fires and kneeling men and wom
en. As Mercius went to depart with his companions at his side, Keira walked up to him and said, “I’m coming with you.” Mercius, on the point of telling her ‘No‘, relented; the look in her eyes said I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.
Without a word Mercius took her arm and hoisted her up behind him on his horse to a shocked and indignant squawk.
A short time later they entered the encampment, and were, as promised, not harassed by anybody. There were only men in the camp, and all looked like hardened veterans of battle. Each one of them had scars in plenty, and all of them were dressed in leather skins that were the only armor they had. They looked surly and hard, as if they were looking forward to battle or death. It was the type of look that Mercius had never been told about when he was young. When he was young, he had been taught that all men were weak and afraid. These were anything but. They looked the sort that would spit in a demon’s face and then wait for the death that they knew was inevitable. They were frightening in their strength and conviction. It was a look that Mercius saw in the Merconium Blade, but older, as if these men had been born with this strength instead of learning and earning it.
They were led to a tent in the center of the camp. It was merely pieces of leather strung to poles hammered into the earth. When they dismounted and entered, they found the two men, Griffin and Eliah, accompanied by three more men that stood around the edges of the tent. Griffin’s eyes flashed at Mercius, and he said sharply, “You said that there were three. I count four plus yourself. That was not what we agreed on.”
It was apparent that he was perturbed, but Keira said, without fear or hesitation, “Forgive me, sir. I was uninvited. However, I am the only doctor of the Merconium Blade, and I hate seeing people die. Therefore, I decided that the outcome of this meeting was important to me, because if it goes badly, I will have to tend to many more than is already normal.” She stared at him almost defiantly.
Again, it was Eliah, the old man at Griffin’s side, who lightened the mood. He laughed softly and said under his breath, “Not much you can say to that, lad.” Mercius, with his heightened hearing, could not get over how much their relationship was similar to his and Jax's. At the older man’s words, Griffin softened visibly.
“Very well,” he said. He raised his hand and one of the men that stood at the walls of the tent left without a word. When he returned, he carried a jug and several cups. “Let us drink,” Griffin said. “I don’t believe that we are enemies. That means that we must be friends. And friends drink together.” The cups were filled and passed around. Mercius kept his eyes on Griffin as he sipped from his cup. Immediately, a look of shock came into his face. It was wine! And very good wine! Mercius had tasted the delightful beverage on very few occasions, and he remembered each of them fondly. Griffin noticed his amazement and said, “It comes from Eliah’s homeland in the East. We have carried it and horded it for a very long time, but I felt that this was enough of an occasion to share it.”
“I am grateful,” Mercius said, taking another sip of the delectable liquid and giving Eliah an appreciative look. Then he said, “And you are right: we are not enemies. I have seen your trophies,” this with a strange sound to his voice that both parties knew meant the demon skulls that he had seen, “and that means that we fight the same fight. My purpose is to destroy demons entirely, and eradicate Hell’s grip on this land.”
Eliah spit wine out of his mouth with his burst of laughter. “He sounds like you!” he said, looking towards Griffin and still laughing. Griffin just stared into Mercius' eyes, as if he would be able to divine some deeper meaning.
Finally, Griffin spoke: “What do you mean, your ‘purpose’? It sounds as if you believe that you are chosen for some special task.”
Mercius glanced at Jax, who made no movement, but his eyes were stern and clouded; Mercius knew that he should guard his tongue, and his friend’s gaze reiterated that fact. Mercius circumvented the question: “I have seen the torment and the anguish that the demons have caused. I have seen death and destruction; murder and chaos. I have decided that man is not meant to live like this. Therefore, I have decided to kill as many of them; to send as many as I can back to Hell; before I die. That may seem crazy, I know, but it is my lot. Take from that what you will.”
Both Griffin and Eliah had a shrouded look in their eyes. They glanced at each other, and Mercius realized that much passed between them in that glance. Finally, after moments of silence, Griffin said, “Let us talk of other things.” Again, he glanced at Eliah, but the older man was staring at his hands, his eyes lost in contemplation. “You have referred to ‘the Blade.’ What do you mean?
Mercius relaxed a fraction. He wished he could reveal his vision and his purpose to this man, but the company was mixed. He felt that he could trust Griffin, and probably Eliah, but was not ready to trust everyone yet.
Darius answered: “When we came through the mountains, Mercius promised a group of young bastards that he would teach them the art of killing. None of them really knew what they were getting into, and I imagine that every one of them regretted their decision at one point or another. He trained us, all right, but it was nasty. He was a strict taskmaster and a pain in the ass trainer.” The brashness of Darius' words stunned the company into first silence, then amusement. He was a man that could lighten the mood with his insolence and vulgarity. Furthermore, he was entirely unaware that his manner was at all inappropriate to the mood. He continued, laughing and scowling successively. “But, for whatever reason, we loved the son of a bitch. He made us bleed and sweat with no remorse, and on a daily basis. But we liked him and followed him. In the end, the young ones, who thought that they were the Heaven’s gift to the sword, decided to give themselves a name: the Merconium Blade. Of course, this pompous asshole hated it, but the young ones were relentless. He accepted it eventually. And with many a disgusted sigh, I can tell you.”
Mercius said, “Darius,” in an attempt to silence the man. But he continued unabated: “So there it was: we were now the Merconium Blade, and to Hell with the rest. From there, it isn’t my story. But the Blade live and breathe for our general. We go where he goes and die if he dies.”
Darius' grin was missing as he finished; his face was set in determination and solemnity.
Mercius, unable to change the tide, just looked at his hosts. They were watching Darius with hard stares, and then pondering what he said. There were no smiles about the tent. Fortunately, Sophia broke the silence, giving the Merconium Blade’s representatives some small dignity:
“Our companion is a lout, Griffin, and you must excuse him. However brash it is, however, his tale is true. My own is different, but hardly worth mentioning now. But I have a question for you.”
Griffin’s back stiffened, and Sophia saw it. She asked, “Is there a problem, sir? Are we not friends here?”
Griffin started to speak, but Eliah put his hand on the younger man’s arm. It was Eliah who spoke: “My great leader is not accustomed to women having a voice in the proceedings of men. In his youth and his pride, he seems to think that it is an affront to his dignity.” Eliah said this with apology in his voice, but Sophia decided to address the matter head-on.
“You are young, sir, and I forgive you that,” she said. “But know this: my voice carries just as much weight as anyone present. If you refuse to listen to me, then all of us will leave, and battle will be waged with the dawn. I am no stranger to conflict. I am not frightened by you, boy.” Jax put his hand on Sophia’s, and she was quiet, though she stared into Griffin’s eyes with an intensity that had silenced Mercius many times before.
Mercius said, “She is right. Her voice, as well as any woman in my company, carries as much weight as my own. As for me, she is my friend, and I will allow nothing but respect and politeness towards her or any other member of my company. If you cannot accede to this, then we will go our separate ways
.”
Griffin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again, he stood and bowed deeply to Sophia. He said this as he righted himself: “My Lady, I give you my deepest apologies. As my friend said,” he motioned toward Eliah, “I have been fighting for a very long time, with only men. My manners have suffered, I fear. From now on, your voice will command nothing but respect from me. If you require it, I will give my life to earn your acceptance.”
This seemed to stun even Griffin himself. He looked around wide-eyed, as did everyone else in the tent. It reminded Mercius very much of the time that he had pledged his life and himself to the very same woman.
Sophia, in her grace, nodded deeply to the man and gave him a look of forgiveness and compassion. Mercius had received that look on several occasions, and knew that it was something that no one could ever forget.
Sophia said, “I accept your apology, Griffin. But I have a question for you. If you are to know our story, it seems only fair that we know yours.”
For a long moment, Griffin stared at Sophia, possibly trying to divine some secret from her eyes. Then he looked at Eliah. The old man stared back at him, then nodded gravely.
Griffin said, “Very well, here is my story.”
A fire burned in Griffin's eyes as he told his tale with surprising vehemence and eloquence.