Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) (13 page)

      Stabbing a wolf in the throat, Brandon dove under the swinging axe of a bear and kicked one of its knees out. The bear roared and stumbled, the heavy blade of its axe cutting through a trio of frog faces, splattering Brandon and the ruined tower with black blood. There was a scream from above and Brandon looked up. A hawk leapt from the side of the tower, throwing itself at him.

        Brandon twisted, dragging his sword up and driving it into the creature's chest. He let the thing's own weight carry it past him, yanking his sword free and blocking a second swing from the bear. Spittle flying as it roared, the bear tried to rush Brandon but its wounded leg wouldn't support its bulk. It lurched sideways, its axe dropping to the ground as it fell. Brandon didn't waste time killing the bear. Instead, he snapped his wrist to clear the blood from his blade and ran on.

      He had to climb over rubble and dead grohlm to reach the doorway. Behind him, Brandon heard more of the monsters hot on his trail, screaming for his blood. Standing and turning to face the horde, Brandon saw the glow of the doorway reflected in the thousands of animal eyes staring at him. Then he turned and stared into the open doorway.

      Standing before him, reflected in a surface that looked like murky water, was himself. Brandon stared at the reflection and couldn't move. But that didn't stop the figure in the doorway from taking a step forward. The Brandon in the doorway was dressed in plain clothes. Jeans and a tee shirt with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on it.

      "That's my favorite shirt." Brandon said, taking a step toward the doorway. Staring at the other him, Brandon could see how young he truly was. The face was his but not his, untouched by any of the nightmare that now consumed Brandon's life.

      An innocent face.

      Brandon closed on the doorway, coming to a stop just outside of it. His reflection, pale as it was, squinted at him and took another step. He was close enough to reach out and touch Brandon through the surface of the water covering the doorway. But he didn't reach out. Instead, he said. "Who are you? What are you?"

      Before Brandon could answer, a voice spoke behind him.

      "He's the future." The voice was deep and cultured, with an accent that Brandon couldn't identify. It spoke again, this time from just behind him. "And you're the past. You are the one who might have been. And who will never be."

      Brandon spun around.

      Standing face to face with Brandon, the army of grohlm rioting behind him, was a tall man, armored all in black. A crimson cloak hung limply from his broad shoulders and an iron helmet covered his head. The face plate of the helmet was carved into the likeness of a screaming face. Brandon could see the man's lips through the helmet's open mouth. They curved into a smile and the man said. "Hello, Reclaimer. It's nice to finally meet you face to face."

      Brandon brought his sword up and around, swinging without thinking. It didn't matter that the man was obviously human, not to Brandon. The sword was moving fast, a blur, but the man brought a gauntleted hand up and caught the blade, stopping it cold.

      The man laughed.

      Brandon tried to pull the blade from the man's grip but it was held fast. The man laughed again. Reaching up with his other hand, the black knight lifted the faceplate of the helmet, revealing the face beneath. He said. "Is that any way to say hello to your future?"

      The face under the iron helmet was a stranger's, handsome and square jawed, but Brandon knew who he was facing.

      "Usurper." Brandon said, trying again to pull his sword free. When he couldn't break it free of the man's grasp, Brandon let go and stepped back. His back was to the doorway and he knew that he was close to stepping back into the watery surface.

      The Usurper held the blade for a moment, looking down at the runes covered by his armored fingers. His smile dropped slowly away and he looked at Brandon. He was more than a handsome man. His jaw was clean shaven and straight. His chin dimpled. And he had frighteningly clear blue eyes. But none of his features seemed real. They were too perfect. It all rang false to Brandon, as if he was looking at what he expected to see, not the reality. The Usurper spoke, his perfectly formed face barely changing expression as he said. "I have been called that. But not for a long time. They have also called me monster. And tyrant. Now, I am called Emperor. But you, Bran, will call me master."

      Brandon charged the Usurper and attacked him with his fists, trying to punch the man's sneering mouth. But the Usurper only laughed again. He stopped Brandon with his free hand, slamming the flat of a gauntleted palm against the boy's chest. Brandon fell back, catching himself on the frame of the door. His fingertips dipped into the water's surface and went numb.

      The Usurper held the rune sword up in front of Brandon's face and said. "No gods of rain or stone can save you, boy. Not from me. And not from yourself."

      Before Brandon could respond, something cold and wet touched his face. Twisting, he screamed as the water's surface broke and a wrinkled and putrid version of his own face appeared. The thing smiled, revealing cracked and rotted teeth, and spoke in a gargling voice. "Even you can drown, little faggot." It said in Luke Krueger's cruel voice. "You'll see. I'll show you." The thing wearing Brandon's face and speaking in Luke's voice wrapped its cold hands around Brandon's throat. Though the flesh of its hands was wet and spongy, the thing's grip was like iron as it drug Brandon toward the water's surface. Brandon tried to fight, to twist and kick at the thing, but it showed no sign that it even felt him struggling.

      The surface of the doorway rippled as his hands and feet struck the dark water, but not a drop splashed free. Where his hands and feet touched the water, his skin went instantly numb.

      The Usurper laughed as Brandon was drug helplessly under the surface. As his face went into the water, Brandon caught sight of the Usurper's reflection. The Black Knight held the rune sword above his head and faced the army of grohlm. He roared with laughter as he lifted the sword up high and shouted. "The time comes, my children. The tower is fallen and the doorway is open. Now is the time for feasting. Now is the time for blood."

      Brandon floundered as he was pulled into the numbing waters, his body vanishing under the coldness, and the world went black. Through it all, he could still hear the laughter of the Usurper and the cries of the grohlm. Then Luke's voice, whispering into his ear. "You can't win, Brandon. You're going to die. You and all of your friends are going to die. And nothing you can do will stop it."

      Brandon wanted to scream. But when he opened his mouth the icy water rushed in to choke him. He could no longer feel Luke's hands wrapped around his throat. The blackness seemed to clench all around Brandon, crushing the last of his breath from him, and another voice spoke. A voice from his nightmares.

      Sha'ha'Zel spoke into his ear, his voice a soft rumble. "There is no escape. Not from them. And not from me. You can't run from your destiny, Bran. Nobody can."

      Brandon felt his consciousness dwindling away as he choked on midnight. As he lost all threads of thought, Brandon heard Rok speak from somewhere far away.
"You're stronger than any of them know, Brandon. Stronger than even you can imagine. When the time comes, I will be with you. I will be your strength. I will protect your body. You must protect your soul."

      Brandon wanted to ask how, but Rok was already gone. There was nothing now except for the freezing and suffocating darkness. Brandon was completely and utterly alone.

      Brandon came awake, shouting and jerking himself up and out of the bed. The sheet was tangled around his body. He dripped with sweat, his body shaking and hot. The sheet was drenched, as was the center of the bed. His bedroom was dark. He stood by the window, staring at his empty bed, until Gerrick spoke from the darkness.

      "Bad dream?" Gerrick's voice was soft. He stood just outside of Brandon's open bedroom door, a darker shadow in a hallway full of shadows. He said. "Are you okay?"

      Brandon was shocked by the concern in the older man's voice. Running a hand through his sweat drenched hair, he sat down on the side of his bed and looked over at his uncle. "I'm not sure what just happened." His voice was calm, though he still felt shaky. His muscles were still jumping with adrenaline, as if he was still in battle, and he kept thinking he saw movement in the deeper shadows of his bedroom. "I don't think that was a normal dream."

      "What did you see?" Gerrick said, peering at him through the shadows.

      But Brandon just shook his head. "The dream isn't important." Brandon said. "We have to close that doorway, that's what's important."

      Gerrick was quiet for a moment then said. "Of course."

      "We have to do it soon." Brandon said. He realized how panicked he sounded, but the dream was too fresh. When he closed his eyes, he heard the howling horde again. Saw their gnashing teeth. He shook his head. "There are too many of them. If we don't close the gateway, we're all dead. You. Me. Everyone." He thought of Claire. Of her soft lips and her beautiful green eye. He thought of Claire, being chased down by howling grohlm, and he could almost hear her screams. "We have to do it. This is more important than my life. Or whatever happens to the Merryweather name if I die. This is about saving the world. This world, not some other world on the other side of some magic gate. We have to do it. We have no choice."

      "And you think you're ready?" Gerrick said, his shadow unmoving.

      "That isn't the question." Brandon said. "The question isn't whether I think I'm ready or not? You're the teacher. I'm the student. I'm ready when you say I am. But we are running out of time, Gerrick. Soon, it won't matter if I'm ready or not. There will be too many of them for anybody to stop."

      Gerrick didn't say anything. He left, closing the door behind himself. Brandon looked at the closed door for a moment then lay back down. He doubted he would be able to get back to sleep. Not after the dream. But he was wrong. He was soon snoring softly and this time his rest was dreamless.

      Gerrick went outside after leaving Brandon in his room. He hoped the boy would be able to get some real rest after what had happened, but he wasn't optimistic about it. The sort of true dreams that Brandon had were rare, even among the Storm Lords, and could be exhausting to the dreamer.

      Lighting a cigar, he stood on the rear deck and watched the woods surrounding Highgarden, looking for the tell tale movement of lurking critters, but not really expecting to see anything. The magical wards protecting the house were holding, though their strength wasn't what it once was, but you could never be too careful. Puffing on his cigar, Gerrick perched his hip against the porch rail and thought about the boy's words.

      It was odd to find wisdom in one so young, especially in the modern world, but Gerrick was learning not to be surprised by Brandon anymore. The boy wasn't like other kids his age. Not just because of his family history, either. He was thoughtful, something that was damn near impossible to find in the other kids around him, and he wasn't prone to emotional outbursts like the one tonight.

      He was absolutely right that they had to close the gateway and that they had to do it soon. It irked Gerrick to admit as much, even to himself, but he wasn't stupid. Or so hard headed that he couldn't admit when he was wrong. It was going to be dangerous. Possibly more dangerous than facing the Curse too soon.

      There was a real possibility that they both would die in the attempt. Death wasn't something that Gerrick was afraid of, far from it, but failing in his duty was another story. Protecting the boy was his mission. And taking Brandon into those woods wasn't protecting him, but just the opposite.

      But Brandon was right. They had to do it, whatever the cost.

      "Gods be damned." Gerrick whispered as he knelt and crushed out his cigar only half smoked. He stood and stared out into the night. He spoke, his voice low, but he knew he would be heard. "He's not making our jobs easy, Jarek. Not by a damn sight."

      If the Curse heard him, he didn't reply.

CHAPTER 13

      Early morning light coming through his bedroom window woke Brandon the next morning. Sitting up, he stared at the light cutting across his bed and let pieces of the dream come back to him. The sound of the Usurper's voice. The way his blue eyes flashed with intelligence and menace, but hid something worse beneath their icy depths. The strange plastic falseness of the man's face. Could all of that have been just a dream? He thought of that dry and barren world, with its cloudless skies, and wondered if anything survived there besides the grohlm and their twisted master? It seemed impossible to believe that anything good could possibly survive in that blasted wasteland, but Brandon couldn't know for sure.

      Downstairs, Gerrick was cooking grits on the stove. He looked at Brandon as he entered the kitchen and smiled, saying. "How do you feel?"

      Brandon didn't answer. Instead, he went over to the table and sat down. He looked out the sliding glass doors. The shades were open and he could see the training circle, looking like nothing more than a barren circle of earth. Perhaps a dead garden or flower bed. He thought of the dream and shuddered. The sky above the tree line was gray and cloudless.

      "It looks like snow." Gerrick said. He left the grits to cook while he quickly set the table. He poured coffee for himself. Orange juice for Brandon. Brandon took a drink and still said nothing. Gerrick looked at him then shook his head. He went back to the stove and stirred the grits. He talked as he cooked. "Tell me about the dream."

      Brandon didn't say anything for a moment, then he sighed. He slouched in his chair and looked at the sky outside. He said. "Isn't it a little early for snow? November's just starting."

      Gerrick brought the grits over and spooned a portion on top of Brandon's plate. There was a saucer of butter and a carton of milk on the table. As well as a container of sugar. Brandon tossed some sugar and butter into his grits and dug in. They tasted good and he said so. Gerrick smiled, nipping at his own plate. He drank down some coffee and said. "Tell me about the dream."

      "Why is the dream important?" Brandon said. He tossed his spoon onto his plate and said. "You know as well as I do that we have to stop the grohlm before they grow too strong. If it's not already too late. What the hell does it matter what was in the dream, as long as I get the point? We have to close the gateway."

      "Did you dream of a tower?"

      Brandon blinked at his uncle and said nothing. He swallowed the lump of grits in his mouth. It tasted like ash.

      No, not ash. Dust. The inside of his mouth tasted like dust and blood.

      Swallowing some orange juice to wash away the taste, Brandon said. "It was in the middle of a desert. It was tall and made of steel and crystal."

      Gerrick asked. "Did you climb it?"

      Brandon nodded. "On the top, there were runes made out of crystal. They glowed when I stood on them."

      Gerrick said nothing. He stood up and walked over to the stove. He poured himself another cup of coffee and drank it down. He poured another before sitting back down and saying. "The Tower of Woros. That was one of the four towers."

      "Four towers?" Brandon said, nodding slowly as realization dawned. "You were the Tower Knight? That was what my grandfather called you?"             

      Gerrick nodded. He said. "The Four towers of Ginji. Each a pinion in the circle that bound the Four Brothers to the will of the tower knights."

      Brandon said. "The Gods of the Winds. Woros, Elrod, Niktos, and Soyto. That's their names, isn't it?"

      Gerrick stared at Brandon and said. "Where did you learn those names? From your dreams? From Nin'e'Veh?"

      Brandon said. "From a dream. From my grandfather. He told me a little about the Storm Lords and the guardians that they served. You were a Storm Lord, like my grandfather."

      "Not exactly." Gerrick said. "The Tower Knights were different than the other Storm Lords. Your grandfather, like the others, was aided and protected by the god that he served. Nina protected and strengthened your family. The Four Brothers were mad long before the Usurper appeared in your grandfather's kingdom. The Tower Knights did not serve the Winds. We kept them at bay. We were the line that protected the rest of the realm."

      "What happened?" Brandon said. "Why did you serve the Usurper, even though you knew it was wrong?"

      "The Usurper struck at the Towers first, before beginning his campaign to overthrow your grandfather." Gerrick said. He took another drink and shook his head. "The Usurper began by conquering the smaller nations of your grandfather's kingdom. He used subterfuge and manipulation, eroding the foundations of the lands, before striking with force. He was a powerful sorcerer, but he was even more persuasive as a leader and an orator. He built an enormous following before making his play for the throne."

      Brandon said. "He went after the towers first to set the winds free, didn't he?"

      Gerrick nodded. "He knew that with the winds raging among the other gods, he would have an advantage over your grandfather and his liege lords. He was able to trick my father and my brothers into abandoning their duty to the land and to their king. I was the youngest. I knew that we were forsaking our honor, but I had to follow my father and his wishes. Even if it meant my death."

      "And my grandfather killed your family. Your father. Your brothers." Brandon said slowly. He met the older man's steady gaze. "He did all that and you still swore loyalty to him? You protected my father and his family. You're protecting me. Why?"

      Gerrick said. "Because I let myself be guided in the wrong direction by those that I trusted most. And your grandfather gave me his trust, even after I betrayed his." His voice became cold. "Your grandfather didn't kill my family. The Usurper did that the moment he twisted and perverted my father's mind. Your grandfather returned my honor. For that, I owe him everything. He made me a part of his own family, without reservation, and trusted me with the most important thing in his world. Your father."

      Brandon watched Gerrick and, for the first time since learning that they weren't related by blood, saw his father's brother. This was a man who would do whatever it took to protect him. Gerrick would die to see that no harm came to him. Brandon said. "I can't understand what makes me so important? Why it even matters if I live or die? It's not like I'm a king here. Or even very important. I'm just a kid."

      Gerrick said. "The gods exist in all worlds, at all times. You're loved by the gods. By Nin'e'Veh, in particular. The Usurper knows this. He also knows that if you come into any kind of real power, you could be a danger to him."

      "How?" Brandon asked. "He's already killed my entire family. What can I do to stop him? I'm not as strong as my grandfather. Or you. I can't even stop Sha'ha'Zel. I'm going to die if I let myself love somebody. What kind of power could I come into that would change any of this?"

      Gerrick shook his head. "I don't have all the answers, Bran. I don't think anybody does. But you can't give up hope. Now tell me the rest of your dream. What happened with the Tower of Woros? Did you see it fall?"

      Brandon gave a short nod and said. "I saw it. I was standing on it when it fell. Surrounded by an army of grohlm. I think I saw the gateway too. At least, it looked like a door."

      Gerrick nodded. "Woros was the first of the towers to fall. It stood in the middle of the Plains of Larado, surrounded by miles of orchards and farms. One of the most lush and fertile parts of your grandfather's kingdom. My father was the Guardian of Woros."

      Brandon said. "The place I saw wasn't fertile. It was a desert. Nothing could live there, let alone grow."

      Gerrick nodded. "It was in the last years, when your grandfather's armies were still recovering from the rebellions, when the Usurper's true purpose became clear. The Towers of Ginji had fallen and I was one of your grandfather's generals, second only to Wiermon, his Lord Captain of Swords. That was when the grohlm appeared, pouring out of the Northern wastes like a nightmare. Nothing could stand in their path, not for long. The great cities fell and it was only a matter of time before everything was swallowed by the grohlm."

      Brandon said. "I was inside of my grandfather's head on the day he died. I saw what happened." At the questioning look in his uncle's eyes, Brandon said. "It was another dream. In it I saw the army that he faced in the end. The army that I saw in the desert of Woros was bigger."

      Gerrick said. "Your grandfather's kingdom was only one continent on a world, much like this one. It's hard for me to believe that nobody was ever able to finally stop the grohlm."

      Brandon shook his head. "It was a dream. It doesn't have to be true."

      Gerrick said nothing. Standing, he walked over and opened the sliding glass doors leading to the back deck. Cold air slammed into Brandon, causing goose bumps to form on his arms. Gerrick stared out past the tree line, toward the heart of the woods and whatever evil things might be waiting within. He turned to Brandon and said. "We're still not ready. But it wont be long. Until then, keep your eyes open and protect those that you can. And protect yourself."

      "I'll do what I have to, to make sure Claire and everybody else is safe." Brandon said. He stood and took his plate to the sink. As he rinsed it clean, he spoke to his uncle. "I'll be ready when the time comes. I wont let you down." He met his uncle's gaze for a long time, then left.

      Gerrick watched Brandon leave, saying nothing. He hoped that the boy's words weren't false bravado, forced by his desire to protect the girl he loved. Brandon was strong, that was certain. Stronger than his father ever was. Possibly as strong as his grandfather. But was he strong enough for what was coming? Gerrick didn't know and hoped that he wouldn't have to find out anytime soon.

      Underhill waited for Brandon to pass by on his way to town, before coming out of the trees and finishing his journey to Highgarden. It was cool, but not painfully so. He was wearing a light jacket and an old deerstalker cap for extra warmth. The sun wasn't up yet, but there was plenty of light to see by. He felt bad hiding from the boy, but he wasn't there to see him. He didn't want to have try and explain why he was all the way out at Highgarden, on foot, so early in the morning.

      Underhill continued slowly, using the time to go over what he planned to say to Gerrick in his head as he walked. He still couldn't believe he allowed himself to be talked into such a foolish task. He would be lucky not to get shot for trespassing, especially considering Gerrick's opinion of Stephen Merryweather's friends from his time in Matheson.

      He came to the stone wall that served as Highgarden's border and stopped. It had been years since he'd been out this way and he wondered if the effect was as strong as it was so long ago. Taking a deep breath, he stepped across the invisible line surrounding the Merryweather home and instantly felt the old magics wash over and through him. It made his skin tingle and his wiry gray hair tried to stand up on top of his head.

      But with the tingling, he also felt the peace that accompanied the wards of protection that made Highgarden so special to those that lived behind its walls. For the first time in months, the overwhelming sense of doom that had seemed to follow him everywhere he went was gone. Or was at least hidden by the countless spells of protection laid down on the property. He took another deep breath, enjoying the fresh air, and said. "You can come out, Gerrick. I'm not here to cause trouble."

      There was movement on his right and Gerrick materialized from the forest as if a ghost. The big man was unarmed as far as Underhill could see, but that didn't mean anything. The Tower Knight was just as dangerous unarmed as he was with a sword in his hand. Gerrick stared hard at Underhill for a long time before saying. "I'm impressed, old man. It's a rare person who can see me when I don't want to be seen."

      Underhill didn't respond right away. He watched Gerrick closely, looking for any sign that the younger man was going to live up to his violent reputation. But Gerrick just watched him, his hard face impassive. Underhill cleared his throat and said. "I'm here to ask for your help." Gerrick said nothing. He turned and walked away from Underhill, heading back to the house. Underhill followed, talking as he walked. "You have to know what's happening here in Matheson? What's out there in the woods?"

      Gerrick stopped walking and faced the grizzled old man. He smirked as he said. "You know, it always surprised me that you took to Stephen so well? From the stories, I expect you and I have a lot in common? Yet, you never sought me out? Not like with Stephen?"

      Underhill wasn't sure how to respond. He risked taking his eyes off of the other man long enough to check the woods on both sides of the road. The peace of Highgarden made his skin itch. As if he missed the constant feeling of being watched by hostile eyes. It was a false sense of peace, he knew, created by the magic surrounding the Merryweather's property. Perhaps that was why he disliked the feeling so much? He knew, whatever the magic made him feel, that he wasn't safe. When he brought his gaze back to Brandon's uncle, the man was simply watching him. Waiting for an answer. Underhill said. "I never sought Stephen's friendship, Gerrick. That came later. I just wanted to help him. I felt I owed that much to his family. To his father." His scar tightened as he grinned. "Besides, I never got the impression you liked me much?"