The Sword and the Flame: The Forging

Chapter 20

Sometime before dawn, Berek stirred. He wasn't sure why, but he had the feeling he needed to get moving. When he opened his eyes, the room was still dark gray with the predawn light. Around him his friends were fast asleep, some snoring while others whimpered. Reliving their experience in the tunnel, he thought to himself as he stood and stretched out his aching muscles.

He didn't mind the stiffness or soreness from sleeping in the corner, but it was something he wouldn't recommend over a bed. With a few twists of his arms and waist he worked out any kinks remaining from his sleep and readied himself to leave. Before he moved too far, he paused by Gilliam. His uncle chose a spot close to Berek's but still far enough away so they wouldn't disturb each other. Next to him, Berek placed the golden goblet and most of the jewels he claimed after their adventures the previous night. It wasn't much, but he hoped Gilliam would understand when he woke.

"Goodbye, Uncle," Berek whispered. The sound of his voice caused Gilliam to stir, but the cleric didn't wake. As quietly as he could, Berek closed the door behind him.

When he stepped further into the hallway, he heard the rustle of soft leather to his left. Berek recognized his company before the old man stepped out from the shadows. "Leaving so soon, warrior? I don't think your friends would approve."

"I'm not in the mood for your parlor tricks, Mern. I have work to do." Berek had never said more than a few words to the mage, and that early in the day, he doubted the habit would change.

Mern smiled. His gray whiskers seemed to be on fire in the candlelight emblazoning the rest of the hallway. "I assure you, this is no parlor trick. I feel it's only fair to warn you that if you go alone you will not survive. But then, you already know that, don't you? You feel you're a disgrace to your family... don't you? One cannot alter the path the Gods have chosen for us, my boy, nor quarrel with their decisions."

Berek shot the mage a look of anger that caused Mern to take a step back. A sign of fear the mage hadn't shown for centuries. "Go back to your room, wizard, and pretend you know what events are happening beyond your door. Your wisdom and age don't control my destiny, old man." Without another word, Berek turned and strode down the hallway.

Mern watched him go with interest. Berek was correct, the old mage had no reliable foresight of the future, nor could he control one's destiny. But what he did better than most was to plant the seeds of the future in the present. Before speaking to Berek, Mern believed the fighter could win since both Renard and Fech had no understanding of the power the young man was capable of wielding. Not a single seed of doubt could take root even in the forged steel of Berek's soul.

Smiling to himself, Mern entered his room and eased himself back into his warm bed. The morning would be most interesting. With any luck, he'd rid himself of Berek and that wretched gargoyle.

*****

The flap of leathery wings was the only thing that could've given away Fech as he returned from a hunting excursion. Though he was loathe to leave his observation point, he did have to eat, and while he was only gone for a few minutes to catch a rabbit, it wasn't as grievous as when he fell asleep for a few hours after Mern went back to his room.

As he did every hour since arriving after finding the Nursk brothers dead, he questioned himself whether or not he should return to his master and inform him of their failure. His failure, he reminded himself, for he should've been with the Ogres to act as messenger. Echoing his previous decisions, Fech decided against that action. His instincts told him the human wizard was a threat and he was determined to keep a watchful eye on him to protect his master. Fech would be punished for his lack of action against the two humans earlier, but he smelled something different about Mern. The old mage carried the stench of decay with him mixed with something the gargoyle knew by instinct.