A/N: It my newest fic^-^ This one will be a romance, surprise, surprise. This fic will centre on Merric (want to huggle him^-^) and how he ends up with the girl who becomes Derrin mom. Who is Derrin you may ask? He is the son of Merric and is a page at the same time as Neal and Yuki's son. You can read about their adventure by clicking on 'The Wavewarrior' in my account. This story is set 4 1/2 after the end of 'Squire'. (This is a working title; please suggest a better one.)
Disclaimer: This one will apply for the entire fic. I do not own the characters, places, and other random objects and creatures floating about the Tortall universe. The aforementioned belongs to the literary genius Tamora Pierce.
Origins –Chapter OneIt was my 22rd birthday yesterday and I would not has believed the events of after the party had I not found her in my tent this morning. I know what you're thinking, what did Merric do now? Have one too many and 'party' with a village girl?
What do you take me for? Of course not. Well...while I admit that I likely had one drink more than appropriate for being on duty, I did not have the 'party'.
You must understand that!
Perhaps I should explain what happened before I continue. After all, what good is a story if your listeners...readers...viewers, whatever you are called, were confused. Not very good at all, I think. However, I must warn that I am not the best storyteller; my Common mark at the Palace was nearly as bad as my Maths mark (which was pretty low –0). Ask anyone from my family, like Faleron for example, and they will tell you that mathematics are evil not matter how useful it can be, (well with exception to my sister, she's just weird).
Hmmm...where were we? Something about me being semi-drunk after a birthday bash? Sounds about right, if it isn't then we'll start there anyway. Okay here we go, it's story time. Smile kids.
~~~~~~~~~~~All knowing P.O.V
~~~~~~~~~~~
Merric pulled himself out of the mess hall that had been erected for soldiers and knights at New Hope. His head swam for a moment before settling due to the dramatic change of scenery and the alcohol is his blood. After him came Dom and Esmond, the former fine, the latter plastered.
"I'm going to take Esmond back to his tent." The handsome captain said. "Oh by the way, happy birthday." With that Dom and the drunk Esmond trudged away, with Dom scolding the younger man about 'drinking contests'.
Merric sighed, sometimes Dom took his role as a father and applied it to anyone younger than him.
'Or older than him,' he added mentally, recalling an incident a few months ago when the captain tried to berate the Lioness on manners. Needless to say this ended with Dom in the fountain and the violet-eyed Champion victorious.
He shook his head, stretched and began the walk to his tent. As he walked along he thought over the past few years since his knighting. The war, his friends getting married, becoming an honorary uncle. All before the age of 22. He was brought out of his reverie by what sounded like singing. Lifting his head, he looked at his surroundings surprised. He was not at his tent but far from it at the forest's edge.
"How did I get here?" he asked quietly, listening to the lilting voice.
If that was what it was.
Soft, clear and beautiful the song was, but the voice could be naught else but the winds. The knight was positive that no creature could emit such a lovely sound at so high a pitch. He stood there listening to the song emanate from the forest, when it was suddenly cut off with a short cry of pain. The abrupt stop caused Merric to draw his kris with alarm.
It was a beautiful piece of work, with runes decorating the serpentine blade. It would be a pity that they blade would be dirtied on the same night it was received. Scanning the old forest before him, eyes darting back and forth as he thought.
Right before the singing halted and the cry there was another sound. A familiar whoosh. A Scanran arrow, Merric realized.
'Damn! This is neither the time nor place for Scarans.'
Despite the fact that he was near the border, it didn't make sense. After the war's end, no Scanrans had dared to come more than a few hundreds metres into Tortall and here were their weapons, much more than that away from the border.
He saw movement to his left. Focusing on the pale figure he made out a flowing white dress, messy hair and what he guessed was the arrow that he heard sticking out of one shoulder. Some several metres away in hot pursuit (but still allowing the distance to widen) were three bulky figures dressed in dark, flapping pelts. The pursuing figures all had the white-blond hair of Scarans and carried something that could be used as a weapon.
Looking back at the pale figure, he realized that she had turned towards him. 'Wonderful.' He thought, readying himself as the northerners charged towards him as well.
The pale figure leapt high into the trees from a low-hanging branch and jumped up higher to perch above the redheaded knight. He looked up in wonder as few droplets of sparkling blood sprinkled down before him. The most definitely injured girl drew back
into the shadows, vainly trying to keep her white dress from hanging over the branch.
A shout from the forest in front of him brought his attention back to the clearly displeased Scanrans. They came in quickly, obviously not wanting to ask questions. Their 'leader' came in and brought his sword down with a yell. Up came the kris to catch the sword while Merric's leg snaked out to trip the mildly exhausted Scanran. As he fell, the knight quickly turned, lashing out with the serpentine blade to place a gash across the chest of another who raised his war hammer. He then turned to face the one he tripped as blood gushed from the hammerman's torso. In a few strokes, Merric's blade impaled the swordsman...but not before the third had released an arrow that buried itself in Merric's calf. Groaning with pain, he whipped around to face the archer who was taking aim.
Merric rolled to side and behind a tree where he pulled the arrow out with a certain amount of agony. Shredding a bit of his tunic he tied it around his leg to stem the flow of blood. Once done, he moved to behind some bushes to observe the archer and severely weakened hammerman. He could easily get the hammerman with his kris, but the archer was going to be a problem.
He smirked, he had an idea. He checked his belt for the one item that a partying knight should not be without.
Darts.
Thankfully, he still had his in the small case attached to his belt. Opening said case, he found his darts, the type one would use in a game but they suited his purpose. Frowning at the risk of standing, aiming and throwing the dart, he sighed. If he didn't try he'd be skewered a smashed anyway. Slinking closer to the pair of now wary Scanrans, Merric drew out a dart.
'Okay, you can do this,' he told himself, 'you beat Esmond and Seaver at darts many times. You can do this.'
Standing behind a large tree he took aim. His target: the base of the archer's skull. His objective: sever the spinal cord-thing that Neal had mentioned once. Composing himself, he brought the dart back and threw it in the way that had earned him a bull's eye many times. The dart stuck is the archer's neck, as the man stiffened and collapsed.
An interesting reaction.
The hammerman watched the man fall with a dumb founded expression. Merric then came in as quickly as his leg would allow, slicing across the hammerman's torso twice and then impaling him with his kris. Pulling out the blade, he grimaced. The once gleaming, silver-blue blade was now red and slick with the dead men's blood.
Wiping it off on the dead archer's pelt (it was the cleanest) Merric sheaved the beautiful kris, swearing to clean it properly later. Looking at the bodies he remembered what got him into this mess; that girl in the white dress.
Scanning the trees above him, he spotted her staring down at him wide-eyed.
"It's alright," he called up, "they're...gone now. You can come on down." The girl merely looked down at him mild confusion written on her face, she did not seem to understand him. "Uh...hmm...do you speak Common?" he called up in hope.
"Ka-mon?" the girl asked furrowing her brow.
"Yes, Common. You know, the main language of the Eastern Lands...um, no?" This was going to be harder than he thought. 'Please come down. You're hurt and I'll never forgive myself if I leave you up there." He informed the girl. She responded with a wry grin and spoke in an odd, musical language comparative to the singing he had heard earlier except at a more plausible octave. Then she frowned, pointed to her calf and then to him, voicing what sounded like a query.
"Oh, I'll be fine,' he changed his voice to one of concern, "but you won't be if you do not come down. And I'd rather void having to bring you down myself. Come one." He looked up at her exasperated, arms out for emphasis—not catching.
The girl called a bit of light to her palm and then worked her way down to a lower branch of which she leapt from. Merric's eyes widened as she casually stepped off the branch that was at least fifteen metres from the ground. She did not fall as fast as she should in Merric's opinion, instead she seemed float down as though she was made of paper, her dress billowing. As he caught her, she leaned over and whispered 'Thank you' before fainting. The light ceased when her consciousness and the girl fell limp. Merric then turned from the three dead Scanrans and stalked out of the forest. He could inform the others about the Scanrans later, right now the important thing was to find a sober healer.
Upon entering camp he received a few stares but that didn't matter.
"Dom!" he yelled upon seeing his. The man turned, surprised. "I need a healer. Now!"
"Right." With that, the brunet hurried to get one of the camp's medical staff.
"You." Merric said to some of the gaping soldiers, "off that bench. I need to put her down." The two men leapt off the bench, readily obeying the redheaded knight's command. Merric set the girl down gently, as to not jostle her shoulder.
'What's going on, Hollyrose?" a voice demanded from behind him. Merric sighed relieved; it was the chief healer of New Hope, Talence, who had been assigned after Neal had left 'to be a married man.' Stepping aside, to let Talence take over; he suddenly felt tired. Sway a bit, he sat on the ground with a groan.
'Happy birthday to me...' he thought as another healer came to examine his leg.
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Shall I continue... by the way, this is a writer's block fic. It will not be updated as frequently as 'Rose Raven' or whatever other fic I'm writing.
~Sarai I-E
::Oh yeah...a kris is sort-of like a short sword, with a wavy blade and was originally used by the Malays. For the purposes of this fic, let's pretend that the weapon originated in the Copper Isles::