Michael Manning - The Line of Illeniel

Penny’s hand on my shoulder interrupted my reverie, “Mort, are you alright?”

“Sure why?” I looked at her, though it took a moment for my eyes to refocus on her.

“You were just standing there smiling and muttering to yourself. Who were you talking to?” her dark brown eyes were full of concern.

“No one, I was just listening to the wind… it was talking about the rain and…,” I caught myself. As soon as I had said the words, ‘it was talking’, her eyes had narrowed. “I mean I could smell the recent rain. It’s a lovely day out. I didn’t mean to worry you,” I finished instead.

“Mordecai!” Marc shouted as he came out of the house to greet us. “How did it go at the bank? When I told father you were going he thought we might need to send a troop of guards to keep them from locking you up. He seems to think they’ll be none too happy to see you.” For a holy man and a saint he seemed remarkably like the same old friend I had always known.

“Hah!” I answered, forgetting my mistrust and his new profession. “They were only too glad to greet us with open arms and throw open their coffers! They sent us along with this as a token of their kindness,” I gestured at the mules and their heavy load.

Penny frowned, “He means they nearly tossed us out before he threatened to turn the bank into a pile of rock and sand.”

Marcus laughed, although she hadn’t been making a joke. Penny was none too happy at how I had handled things at the bank. I couldn’t help but wonder at his good mood. “What’s got you so happy?” I inquired. “Did you make up with your father?”

Marc’s face fell a bit, “No, he’s still mad as hell about my choice, but he’s adjusting. I’m just happy in general, though seeing you is always a plus. Since I accepted the goddess I’ve felt better in every way you can imagine. It’s like hearing music for the first time, after having been deaf my entire life.”

He did look happy, but his reasons for it soured my own mood a bit. I changed the subject, “Has Rose showed up yet?”

Marc’s eyes shifted, showing a hint of pity. He was probably inwardly lamenting that I would never know his goddess’ grace. “No she hasn’t come by yet. Who’s your large and well-muscled companion there?” He indicated Cyhan who was standing silently beside Penny.

“Oh! Forgive my rudeness. Cyhan I’d like you to meet my good friend, Marcus Lancaster. Marcus this is Cyhan. The king has sent him with us to train my bond-bearer.” I stepped back and the two of them shook hands quickly.

“By bond-bearer he means me,” Penny put in. She was making sure I didn’t forget who my choice was.

“The fighting prowess of the Anath’Meridum is legendary. Seeing you I begin to understand why,” Marc said as he released Cyhan’s larger hand.

“I was never chosen,” Cyhan replied, “but I have been involved in the training of several.”

“He taught Mort’s mother, Elena,” Penny added. Cyhan grimaced slightly when she said it.

“Why the face?” Marc asked. “You must be proud to have had such a student. My father tells me that Elena was the deadliest fighter he had ever seen.”

“The Anath’Meridum are not judged by their fighting skills, but by how they live up to their oath and their pact. In that Elena was a failure. My shame lies in that I trained the first and only Anath’Meridum to willfully break her oath.” Cyhan’s statement was devoid of emotion though it struck me like a slap in the face.

“What is that supposed to mean?” My voice was cold.

“Nothing more than what I said. My intention is not to offend, but Elena broke her oath and failed in her trust. There can be no greater sin for one of the Anath’Meridum,” the big man replied coolly.

“So you would rather she had stayed and died? That I had died with them? Is that it?”

“It is not my place to judge such matters. She failed and now we face possible war as Gododdin maneuvers to get their hands upon an unbound wizard.” Cyhan’s face might as well have been carved from stone as he spoke.

“For someone who trains elite bodyguards you seem to feel it would be better for me to be dead.” I was angry but I kept my emotions in check.

“You clearly do not understand the Anath’Meridum,” the warrior replied.

“You don’t understand the first thing about me,” I shot back.

“You are angry because I said your mother was a failure. Yet if you examine yourself better you may understand some of my feeling. Your friend stands before you, and yet he has become something very close to what the Anath’Meridum are meant to prevent. Can you still trust him when you know he bears a being within him that hungers to possess you? Has he not failed you in much the same way?” He spoke calmly, which only drove the spike into my heart that much more painfully.

“You arrogant bastard!” I had lost it. Without thinking I drove my fist at him. At close distance and with little warning even someone like me should have connected… but I didn’t. Without seeming to move the warrior turned slightly and my fist found only air. With a smile he caught my elbow and his other hand came up to push my shoulder. A few seconds later I was looking up at him from the ground.

“If you want to attack me magic would be a better course of action. Your anger does you no good service.” His words mocked me without emotion.

“Like hell,” I said and swept my legs across to knock his feet out from under him, at least that was the plan. He was ready for it and rather than let me sweep his legs he leapt upward and toward me. As he came down he drove his right boot into my midsection, even with my shield I felt the force of it. He had meant to drive the wind from my lungs.

Marcus had never been one to stand idly by, when he saw Cyhan’s foot hit my belly he stepped up to defend me. He moved gracefully, like a natural boxer, one hand lashing out to strike the bigger man in the stomach. Being quick he almost landed the punch, but the older warrior was quicker, bringing one hand down he knocked Marc’s jab out of line. I rolled out from under his feet as they began trading blows. Marc was quick, he had always been a natural athlete but he was no match for the older veteran.

They ducked and wove for several long seconds, neither seeming to have an advantage, till Cyhan brought his leg up for a swift kick. Marc’s hand instinctively went down to guard his midsection and he turned to avoid it, as he did Cyhan’s right hand rushed forward to slam into his temple. He dropped like a felled oak.

I had not been idle, regaining my feet I rushed my foe from behind. With his attention firmly fixed on Marc he should not have known I was coming, yet somehow he anticipated me. Twisting Cyhan spun and I passed through where he had been standing. He didn’t let me go peacefully by however; he caught the back of my shirt as I went by and lending force to my rush he sent me headfirst into the building that stood by the gate. Despite my shield I almost went unconscious as I rammed into the stone face first. If it had not been for my protection I might have broken my neck. I wound up dazed and lying on the ground. Woozy, it appeared to me as if two or three separate Penelope’s were attacking at least two giant men with large walking sticks. Maybe that was my staff? It was hard to tell, I was seeing double and my vision was blurry.

Wallace had jumped into the fray as well, sword in hand. Cyhan took the sword out of his hands as though he were a child and sent the guardsman down with a simple palm strike. Using the sword he blocked Penny’s next swing of the staff. “Time for the lessons to begin,” he said smoothly.

“Go to hell! You’re just an over-sized bully!” Penny drove the end of my staff at his midsection like a spear but he stepped into it, letting the tip slide by him. Running the sword up along the length of it Penny was forced to drop the staff suddenly, that or lose some fingers. She swung at him with her fist as she let go. You have to admire the spirit of a girl like that.