CHapter One Child Reclaimed

“Your Highness, if I may ask your intentions with the boy?”

“Well, the vast majority of it certainly doesn’t pertain to you. But, since you asked, my goal is to train him to be one of our top knights. Given his family’s history, I’d like to use that to my advantage in this war.” Her tone darkened, “Why do you ask, Merrick?”

“I’d like to volunteer to be his mentor.”

Her eyes crinkled, and her head tilted with genuine interest.“Why? By all accounts, you took no interest in him. Now you want to be responsible for his care?”

“I’ve proven myself to be your best swordsman.”

“Arguable. What of Aki?”

“Lacks the mental capacity. What he has in brute strength and skill, he lacks in foresight.”

“Why not one of my current advisors?” Her lips betrayed her enjoyment. “I’ve heard talk Bran bested you once. Before you truly submitted to me.”

Merrick kept his face devoid of emotion.“They have an investment in his family history, where I have none. I have no idea, and I couldn’t care less.”

Aspera leaned back in her throne with a thoughtful smirk. “Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that.” Her kept nails drummed the wood stained by many hands as she thought. Finally, she shrugged one shoulder and looked away, “Stay alive, and keep me happy. I’ll consider it then.”

Queen Aspera’s apartment, One Year after claiming the child

A small boy, around six years old, pushed a wooden horse through the dirt, butt nearly touching the ground in a deep squat. Birds sang in the surrounding trees, flitting between branches. A few of the bravest ventured into the yard. They would hop hop then stop to turn their heads, ensuring the boy hadn’t moved or to eagerly investigate the ground. This continued until they ventured too close to the chickens, who forced them to give a few feet until the next time they hopped too close. The boy let out a shrill whinny, and the horses in the paddock looked up from their hay. After a brief consideration, they lowered their heads back to their contented munching. The snap of their tail flicks was almost like laughter.

Spring was here in full force. Shades of green were a vibrant contrast to the browns of winter still holding on. Pops of purple, yellow, and white bobbed behind the curtains of tall grass, straining to be seen as the wind blew. There was a bite on the breeze, but when it settled, the day’s promise to be warm could be felt. On mornings like this, the little boy liked to think the day was like a grouchy adult that just needed its tea before it would be nice.

There was a lot right about the world. There was a lot right about the day. Over the noise of life waking up, the boy quietly hummed a tune to himself. He strung together random notes, combining little rifts of multiple popular festival songs of valiant knights. He had fashioned a dowel wrapped in black cloth on the toy horse. He continued to draw incoherent lines through sticks he had fashioned into a forest, imagining the knight off to fight battles for a beautiful queen.

With the world shedding the bone-chilling winter, new-growth sprouting through the deadness, and a little boy carefree, it should have been a happy scene. Except he was alone. No other children came bursting through the door, nor caretakers bustling about doing chores to take a brief moment to watch the purest joy of a child at play. All he had for company were the animals, going about their daily routine, paying no mind to him.

The yard backed up to a modest cottage. The windows were empty and watchful; the door a dark slit on its face. In his haste to begin his play, it hadn’t closed all the way behind him. Each time the wind blew, it edged open and closed, like a gaping maw trying to suck him back inside.

Some window frames may have sagged and the daub crumbled in places, but wealth seeped out of the corners and barrels.

It rose in the smell of fresh-cut wood for a new floor and supports replacing those that had gone soft. Seen in every aspect of the yard’s kept look, down to the plump horses and fowl. Beyond sight, other animals grazed in tilled fields. The grain storage, root cellars, and preserved fruits were still well-stocked for the end of winter.

Most of all, wealth was in the threads that held the boy’s clothing together. Not even the first glance of the lonely cottage, miles outside of the capital, could completely mask the stench of royal money dripping off of everything.

Down the road, a solitary rider left fresh hoof-prints in the soft ground recently smoothed by the road tenders and weather. A grueling task of shoveling gravel to fill in wheel ruts and gouges from runoff water.

Winter had followed after the last bout of battles six months prior, so few people traveled. Many were holed up in their homes or scurried quickly to and from the market. The skirmish had been against the last remnants of the mages’ college, one-hundred miles away. The repercussions were felt far beyond their cities and lands.

The reach of the mages’ way had been ingrained into everyday life. Magic had permeated many simple tasks, like having an extra set of hands, and now the land was reeling from its loss. Books had been burned by the thousands. Heads had rolled in similar numbers. Queen Aspera had decreed to have it eliminated along with any magic users who harbored a school of thought connected to the gods and their college. But, until she and her council settled on a replacement system and established the new laws, few wanted to be perceived as sympathizers. Or worse, part of the Lorist efforts to ferry traitors of the crown out of the cities. Magic was rapidly dying as a result.

The resulting quiet and cool air carried the distinct jingle of the horse’s reigns. It was a sound that struck fear in many hearts as it echoed over the people’s fields and into their homes through open windows. The sound of the queen’s elite Justices and the new order of Black Knights.

When the noise finally cut through the child’s play, he looked up. His eyes were wide with hope. As the rider rode over the hillcrest, the boy searched eagerly. The horse was a hulking beast of midnight. The rider was a familiar build. He paused just long enough to confirm before a smile broke across his face, and he jumped up with the athleticism only a child or drunk possess.

“Merrick!” Sonder’s boyish voice caused the birds nearby to flutter up and onto the fence posts, looking indignant and giving him a wide berth. His little legs brought him to the gate just before Merrick. The excitement caused the horse to flatten its ears and snort.

In a fluid motion, Merrick dismounted. His boots left deep gouges in the mud. He wore all black, from the hardened leather armor with flowing details to the cloak that hung from his shoulders. Dark splotches marred the details, stains made by all sorts. Nevertheless, his fearsome appearance and stern expression did not deter the young boy. Not even the stench of many miles traveled and brutal battles fought tinged with tree-oil soap. Bouncing on his toes, he held himself back until Merrick faced him. The boy took off running with a squeal, throwing his arms wide.

The horse grew more agitated and threw its head. Merrick remained still, and just before they met, he backhanded him across the face. Sonder sprawled backward on the ground. The only noise he made was a wheeze as the air was forced from his lungs. It was a slow process for him to turn on to his side. His little hand came up to his cheek as he looked up at Merrick. The severe lines on his face were a harsh contrast to the joy he wore moments before.

Merrick’s jaw worked as he held the boy’s gaze. There was no accusation in those boyish wide eyes, nor anger. Instead, it was more akin to the slow death of trust and a growing perverse reverence. Small tears welled up in those eyes.

Guilt gripped Merrick’s stomach, and he felt bile threatening to rise. Saying nothing, he stepped around Sonder, and his horse followed the tug on its lead. The beast let out a loud protest as it delicately sidestepped around the tiny human and gladly saw itself to the hay scattered through the yard.

Sonder continued to hold his swelling cheek as he watched Merrick’s receding back. The mud began to soak through his clothes, chilling his body. His chin began to tremble with the sadness of confusion of what had just transpired. Merrick had never struck him before.

An older woman appeared in the doorway as Merrick neared the cottage. A dirty apron was tied around her plump waist, but her frame spoke of only recently growing soft. Muscles built through manual labor still gave her limbs shape, though it also made her look doughier than she was. Even if she went through the trouble of covering her sunspots or brushing her graying auburn hair, there was no way to hide a lifetime of hard work before this life of wealth. She had fierce blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles and a mouth stuck in a permanent scowl. Flour powdered her cheeks. Merrick could smell what she was cooking wafting off her clothing as he neared.

“I expected you nearly a week ago, lad.” Her voice was as stern as her look.

“I got held up.” His tone matched hers, the uneasy feeling still churning his stomach.

“Well, yee’ve come to take the boy as promised, right? I was told no more’n five, and it’s been six.” She drew out the e’s. Her accent marked her peasant roots.

Merrick’s look darkened. “It has only been five, Merna.” He stopped just shy of entering the house. He hadn’t been invited, and he knew he wasn’t welcomed. “You also owe your newfound comfort to the boy. You ought to show a bit more gratitude.”

A wicked sneer revealed her browning teeth, her voice pitching lower, “Says a man who just laid him out. Have yee not benefited as much as I?”

All but the last bit was audible to Sonder, who sat just outside the gate. His hand had fallen away from his cheek that was too tender to continue holding. Merna’s words no longer stung him as they had when he was younger.

Merrick chose to ignore her last remark. “To answer your question. Yes, I am here to take him to the palace. Your services are no longer needed.”

Merna wiped her hands on her apron again and smiled. “Very good. Has her majesty arranged for my final payment?”

Watching the old woman wring her hands and smile greedily always disgusted Merrick. Several times a year since Sonder was a baby, he would check on the boy bearing all manner of compensation. Her pale pink tongue even poked out and moistened the corner of her mouth. He entertained the thought that she was salivating, imaging stuffing her greedy mouth with fatty meats and sweet candies.

“I have not come to speak on behalf of her royal highness. My orders were to collect the boy upon finishing my duties as a Royal Justice.” He emphasized his title, which gave him the freedom to act on the queen’s behalf as he saw fit. He couldn’t help himself insulting her further. “Not to entertain your greed.”

She didn’t miss the blackness of his mood and the implications of his explanation. “How very like ye to come to my home and threaten me. Her majesty promised me compensation for my service tending to the boy. I want to be done with it.”

Merrick made a face, which she scoffed at. He wanted to laugh in her face and tell her that the queen never relinquished those who did her bidding. There was no being done with it. More likely than not, some armored men bearing the royal sea dragon would eventually sweep her from her home and ransack the place. Better yet, he’d be the one to come knocking on her door with a scroll intended for her, bearing the mark of royal justice. The words bubbled up in him. Instead, they morphed into something just as poisonous. “I’m sure you do. No widow as low as you could have maintained so much wealth without selling your soul to the crown. Best your neighbors don’t finish the work before I do.”

Merna glared at him before yelling at Sonder, “Oy! Boy. Get in here and pack your things, you hear me? You’ll not be coming back here. Get it all out.” She again wrung her hands on her apron, the movement angrier. “And I don’t want to see you around here unless you come bearing my payment, sir.” She spat at his feet.

Merrick bowed while holding eye contact. “You and what guard, milkmaid?”

Sonder tentatively slipped past Merrick with a soft apology. Merna huffed and followed the boy inside to help him pack, smacking him on the back of the head. While he stood outside, Merrick’s thoughts were scattered, and more than anything, he wanted to grab a drink to slow them down. As he stood alone on the stoop, he could almost imagine, with the warm smells of breakfast loaves, that it was a happy place. It certainly had been when the hag would go to town and leave the two of them alone together.

A soft jingling of bells drew his eyes to the hill he had crested earlier. A black charger with flowing feathers at its feet and chin bore Drisil. Only she would line her black cloak with flashy maroon silk. Merrick’s anxiety increased as he became all too aware of how much time he had lost. She stopped just outside the gate and watched him. Soon Sonder and Merna reappeared.

Merna hissed, “Great, she’s here too?” She raised her voice to be heard across the yard. “Do you have my payment, mistress?”

“No, I don’t, keeper,” Drisil called back just loud enough. “Her majesty sends her apologies. I’m here to retrieve the boy, but it seems Justice Merrick indeed has arrived.”

Merna turned a narrowed gaze on him. “At least she has the decency to address me with the respect I’m owed.”

Merrick couldn’t help himself as he laughed. “If imagining you deserve anything helps you sleep at night.” Tenderly he placed his hand behind Sonder’s head to guide him through the door. “Come, boy, you’re to ride with me.”

Sonder looked relieved at the kind touch as he clutched his meager bag of belongings to his chest. “Where are we going, Merrick?”

“You’re to become a royal page. Then, if you do well, you’ll become my squire.” He smiled, trying to be reassuring, which came easier since he had just laughed at the old woman.

“You mean it? I’m going to become a knight?” In many years Sonder would learn to see the sadness in his mentor’s eyes. But, at this moment, he still broke out into a grin.

“If you work hard and do well, yes.” Merrick patted him on the back and urged him out. “Now, get on.” His mood changed as he looked at Merna. “Have one of your horses saddled for him.”

Merna sputtered in protest, “Those are my horses!”

“Given to you by her Lady Aspera to serve the needs of the crown. Now have it done, whether by your own hands or one of the enslaved gifted to you.”

Merna glared and called to one of her hands before she disappeared back inside and slammed the door on them. A boy of about fifteen quickly came trotting around from the back to do as Merna had demanded. Just as the boy reached the horses, Merna yelled through a window for him to give them the weaker of the beasts before slamming the window shut. The hand looked nervously at Merrick to see if he’d protest. Merrick relished the confirmation of his authority, knowing Merna no doubt continued to watch. With a nod, he saddled the smaller of the horses. Although it would have given him satisfaction to gouge Merna, he knew the feeling would be short-lived, and he was itching to be done with it as much as she.

Sonder asked, “Is the horse really mine?”

Merrick chuckled and led him to the paddock. “You will have many horses.” Merrick lifted him up and gave him a quick tutorial. Then, when he was satisfied that the boy would be able to guide the horse, he swung back up onto his own. “Now, follow me slowly.” Like all of the royal horses, the smaller beast was well trained, though to be safe, he held the lead rope in case the little chestnut thing decided to take advantage of Sonder.

Drisil had watched wordlessly like a regal shadow. Merrick led Sonder’s horse through the gate and passed her. She turned her horse to fall in beside him. Sonder called out a shy greeting to her. She responded warmly before turning her attention back to Merrick. “You know, it’s rather unbecoming of you to pester the old woman.”

Merrick scowled. “She did the bare minimum caring for the boy. All she cared about was getting paid and growing fat.”

“Says the man who hit him.” Merrick’s jaw clenched as she pressed on. “I see the bruise on his cheek. At least the old has-been never hit him.”

“If he’s to survive at the palace, he can’t see me as a friend,” Merrick grumbled.

Drisil smiled, her voice teasing, “I still can’t place the soft spot you have for the boy.”

Their voices were too low for Sonder to hear them. As they rode, he looked around with awe, craning his neck eagerly as they neared the capital. He had never traveled so far from the cottage, even if it was close. Not when Merna had gone into the city for market. He had stayed behind with the rotating servants or with Merrick if he was returned from what he called campaigns.

First, the blue haze of the sea came into view, peeping through the trees; the moisture that hung in the air obscured most of the horizon. Next, the trees fell away and revealed fields of crops and grazing animals, neatly organized and separated by fences. The closer they got, the tall walls that surrounded the city materialized. That was when all of Sonder’s questions began to boil out of him. Merrick and Drisil answered them patiently as the buildings grew out of the murk. The pointed towers of the castle were most strikingly of all.

It was the second time Merrick and Drisil carried the boy into Aspera’s clutches. Five years may have elapsed, but somehow nothing had changed, except as they rode past the notice boards, their faces no longer glared back at them under the words, ‘WANTED’ and ‘REWARD.’

They approached the gate with stone towers looming over them. Sonder’s jaw dropped as he took in the bands of reinforcement, sharp metal grates, and the tunnel filled with holes. They were met on the other side by the queen’s guard. The armored mass would oversee the boy to the castle. So very like the first time, except then Drisil clutched a baby to her chest. The same boy who now sat on a docile chestnut.

Four criminals, banded together by no more than their proximity to death and their naivety.

Initially, Sonder protested, his eyes and face pale with fright. Merrick let promises tumble from his mouth as he ushered him forward to be engulfed by the gleaming plates and sharp weapons. Part of Merrick recoiled. It had taken five years of mental games to justify being involved with the queen’s business, explaining to himself how this was his noble duty.

Merrick refused to meet Sonder’s backward gaze as the rattling guard led Sonder away. This gate was near the tavern he liked to frequent. His skin was hot and crawling by now. Instead of seeing their choice through, he turned his horses and rode to The Jaded Whisper, where the bite of the ale would cool his guilt. Drisil moved to follow but allowed herself to offer a reassuring smile on Merrick’s behalf.