“And what about Earth and Spirit?” Brandon asked. “Those are the last two elements, aren’t they?”
The Storm King nodded and smiled. “You pay attention, Brandon. That’s good. Yes, Earth and Spirit are the final two elements.” “What about their gods?”
His grandfather shook his head. “The god of spirit is all around us. He has many names and many forms, yet nobody knows his true face. All Lords bow their heads to the Spirit, though the Spirit moves through all worlds without leaving evidence of its ethereal touch. For some time, the god of spirit has been a corrupt shadow of its former self, twisted by the lusts of man.”
“And the Earth?” Brandon asked, meeting the cloudy gaze of his grandfather. “Who does the god of the Earth serve?”
The Storm King dropped his eyes, his gaze moving to the blade balanced on his knees. “You know the answer to that question, Brandon.” When he looked up, his eyes were nearly black with the clouds moving across his pupils. “Rag’na’Rok serves only those of great strength and power. The mountain only bows to that which is stronger.”
“What?”
His grandfather jerked upright, snagging the phoenix as he did, and stood. His face was twisted with anger as he raised the blade overhead and roared. “HE SERVES YOU, SON OF STORMS!”
Brandon came awake as the Phoenix flashed down at his head, flames licking the edge of the blade as it fell downward. Brandon nearly fell from his bed as he jerked awake, choking back a shout. His bed sheets were tangled around his feet and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. He lay back, breathing heavy, and closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye, Brandon kept seeing his grandfather’s face as he brought the Phoenix down for the killing stroke. The anger in his eyes.
Climbing out of bed, Brandon went to his bathroom. After taking a leak, he washed his hands and brushed his teeth. Looking at himself in the mirror, Brandon saw his grandfather’s face looking back at him. His eyes clouded over for a second, looking more black than gray, and he heard the sound of his grandfather’s voice.
Rag’na’Rok serves only he who serves himself.
Back in his bedroom, Brandon went to his desk. The green stone was still lying where he left it. He looked at the rune carved into the stone and frowned. The symbol seemed familiar, somehow. He picked the stone up and hefted it in his hand. Rok’s voice suddenly spoke up inside his head.
“Did you sleep well, boy?” The voice was loud, but not overpowering.
Brandon said. “I dreamt of my grandfather.”
“That’s nice.”
“He tried to kill me.” Brandon said. He lay the rock on his dresser and got dressed. While he dressed, Rok continued to speak to him, though the voice wasn’t as strong as when Brandon held the stone in his hand.
Rok said. “You don’t have to talk out loud when you want to speak to me, boy. Just think it and I will hear you.”
Brandon didn’t say anything. Instead, he thought. “That would keep people from thinking I’m crazy, eh?”
Rok laughed. “I didn’t say that. People will think that anyway.”
Brandon just shook his head. He tucked the stone into his pants pocket and went downstairs.
Gerrick was in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and staring out of the glass doors that led to the back yard. He turned as Brandon entered the kitchen. Gerrick said. “Sleep well?”
Brandon smiled at the echo of Rok’s words. “I slept okay. Had strange dreams, though.”
Gerrick nodded, taking a drink of his coffee. “Have you thought about what I said? About Claire?”
“You were right.” He said, hating to admit it. “The only way that I can make sure she’s safe, is by staying away from her.”
“I am sorry, Bran.” Gerrick said, turning and meeting his gaze. “I know how much you care for her.”
“I love her.” Brandon said.
“I know.” Gerrick said. He set his coffee cup on the kitchen table. “That’s why you’ll do what you have to, to see her safe.”
Brandon nodded and put his hand in his pocket, letting his fingers find the reassuring smoothness of the stone. “I’ll do what I have to.”
Gerrick nodded. “That’s what makes you a Merryweather.”
Chapter 30
Brandon didn’t go back to school right away. He took the rest of the week off, with his uncle’s permission, and used the time to learn more about his new friend. Rok was not very forthcoming about what he could do to help Brandon against Sha’ha’Zel. The god would only say that when the time came, Brandon would have his help. If Rok knew the time, he wasn’t saying.
So Brandon used the rest of his time wisely.
He trained.
Each night, for 3 hours, he and Gerrick worked in the circle. Practicing everything he had learned so far and learning many new things in the process. Gerrick was still teaching him the fundamentals of self defense. Saving offensive attacks and weapons training for last. He began working in lessons on balancing and throws, as well.
Every night Brandon stumbled off to bed, feeling as if he had been worked over with clubs, and slept as soundly as a babe. He had no more dreams of his grandfather or of ancient battles. When he did dream, it was of Claire. He and Claire together. Kissing and holding one another. Sometimes he just dreamt of looking at her. In other dreams, Claire was in danger. Running from a pitch black form, its cloak flowing behind it like a storm cloud. Running and screaming his name.
In those dreams, Brandon was always too far away to help her. To stop the thing that was chasing her. He followed in the monster’s footsteps, always too far back to catch it. Screaming Claire’s name, he would reach desperately for the thing’s flowing cape and his fingers would only catch air.
He woke from those dreams, sweating and breathing hard. As opposed to just breathing hard, like after some of the more vivid dreams of Claire and him kissing. During the day, he helped his uncle with the day to day chores that kept Highgarden in tip top shape. Claire called him during his days off, wanting to check on him. Anytime she asked to come over and see him, Brandon made excuses to keep her away. She sounded hurt and confused when he kept putting her off and stopped calling after those first couple of days. Brandon felt like hell after getting off of the phone with Claire, sometimes sitting in his room for hours afterwards. He would take the stone out of his pocket and talk to Rok, if only to ask his advice. But Rok rarely answered.
Rok never answered when Brandon asked questions about Claire or mundane personal things. He seemed to be a very particular god. He didn’t talk nearly as much after that first night; instead, he would save his comments for when Brandon was training with Gerrick. Usually only laughing derisively when Brandon found himself being tossed to the ground or punched in the stomach.
On his last night of freedom before going back to school, Brandon was sitting outside after one of Gerrick’s training sessions, watching the sun drop below the horizon. He thought of Claire as he watched the sunset. He was always thinking of Claire. His arms and legs hurt from the training session, but Brandon felt stronger than ever. Rok was upstairs, sitting on his desk. As time passed, he found that even when the stone wasn’t in his possession, he could hear Rok’s voice inside his head.
He wasn’t sure if he was ready to go back to school. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to face Claire. To tell her that they couldn’t be friends anymore. He was still sitting there, his mind on Claire, when he heard a sound behind him. He turned and felt his heart jump inside of his chest. Claire stood just outside the sliding glass doors, watching Brandon. Her lips turned up in a wan smile when he looked at her. She said. “Hi.”
Brandon stood up and faced her. He was shirtless and dressed only in his training pants. He saw her glance down at his bare chest and blush. He said. “Hi.” Averting her eye, Claire walked closer, crossing her arms under her breasts and chewing on her lower lip. She didn’t look at him as she passed him, taking the patio steps down to the yard, and stopped to look at the training circle. She said. “
So, this is the training circle?” She stepped lightly into the circle and turned to look at him. She was dressed in a light coat and jeans. She had a red scarf wound around her neck. Her hair was combed down over her eye patch, hiding it. She looked beautiful.
Brandon followed her to the circle, standing just outside of it as he spoke. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come see you.”
“Are you?” Claire said, stuffing her hands into her pockets. She looked at him, her green eye staring into his. “What’s going on, Bran? Why wont you talk to me?”
Brandon took a breath and stepped into the circle with Claire, feeling as if he was about to enter a battle of another sort. The moon was a pale thumbnail, hanging over the trees. He looked at the girl he loved and prepared to break her heart. He said. “We can’t see each other anymore, Claire.”
Claire blinked and took a step toward him. “Why would you say that?”
Brandon turned around, unable to meet her gaze. “As long as we’re close, the Kruegers will make your life hell, Claire. I can’t be the cause of that.”
“Bullshit.” Claire stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. She turned him towards her and said. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, Bran, but it’s got nothing to do with the Kruegers.”
“You‘re not hearing me.” Brandon said, pulling loose of her grasp. He turned on her, his voice rising. “We can’t be together. What part of that do you not understand?”
Claire stared at him, a tear spilling loose and running down her cheek. She started to say something but stopped and looked away. She shook her head and he heard her swallow. When she looked back up at him, her cheek was wet where she was crying, but her face was twisted with anger. She said, her voice hard. “If you’re trying to push me away, it’s working.”
Brandon had to look away. He felt his own tears threatening to burst from him. He said. “I can’t explain. I wish I could.”
“Stop it.” She said. “You’re making an ass out of yourself.” She turned her back to him and began to walk away. “I’m not listening to any more of this.”
“Claire.” Brandon said, taking a step after her.
“Stop.” She said, turning to glare at him. “This is your decision, not mine. All I want is to be with you, but you’re not going to let that happen. So I’ll make it easy for you. Stay away from me.” She turned and left, going around the house, instead of going inside.
Brandon watched her leave, his heart breaking inside his chest. His throat was closing up, choking him. He stood in the growing shadows for a long moment before following.
Claire was headed down the driveway, walking slowly. She was crying as she walked, her hands stuffed into her pockets. Brandon stayed in the shadows, moving through the trees while he watched her. He moved as silently as he could, careful to watch where his feet came down, and stayed far enough back not to run the risk of her seeing him.
He followed her the whole way to her house, remaining hidden in the darkening shadows and using all of his training to keep from being seen. Claire stopped a couple of times on the way, staring up at the moon and trying to wipe away her tears. Every time she stopped, Brandon waited in the shadows, watching her with nothing but contempt for himself. His heart ached every step of the way.
At her house, Claire stood on her porch for a long moment, staring out into the darkness. Brandon watched her for as long as he could, letting the sight of her imprint on his brain. When she went inside, closing the door behind her, it felt like a door was closing on the last good thing in Brandon’s life.
He stood in the shadows for a long time, just staring at her house, before turning to head home. He didn’t see the shadow that followed him.
Brandon decided to go through the woods on his way home. He knew that he should be worrying about Sha’ha’Zel, but somehow couldn’t make himself care. He moved quickly, dodging hanging branches and tangled brambles as he slid through the darkened woods. His mind wasn’t really on his destination as he moved, leaping streams and shallow creek beds. He was thinking of Claire and the way her eye looked when he yelled at her.
So he was surprised when the thing leapt out of the trees above him and crashed into his chest. Brandon fell sideways, throwing his hands up to ward off the monster’s gnashing teeth. He couldn’t make out much of the thing’s features as they fell, but it looked vaguely wolf like.
They hit the ground rolling, Brandon getting a loose grip on the thing’s throat, barely holding it back as it snapped at his face. Hot spittle peppered his face as he fought to wrestle it off of his chest.
Above them, thunder rolled and the first fat raindrops began to fall.
“Thank you, Nina.” Brandon said through clenched teeth. As the rain hit his bare chest and arms, he felt sudden strength flow into his hands. His fist tightened on the thing’s throat and he heard bone and cartilage crunch. Hot blood splashed over Brandon’s hand as the thing shuddered and died. He stood up, the rain beginning to fall harder, and stared down at the shadowy shape on the ground. It was small and vaguely man shaped. A flash of lightning revealed the thing’s wolf snout and the leather belts and harnesses that crisscrossed its wiry little frame. It was a grohlm.
Brandon looked around himself, his night vision growing stronger as the rain soaked through his pants. He was surrounded on all sides by trees; deeper in the woods than he had realized. Another lance of lightning flashed across the cloudy sky and Brandon saw movement in the trees above him.
That was when they attacked, crashing through the trees and screeching their animal howls. There was at least 6 of them. 3 of them were wolves, like the one that Brandon had already killed. The other 3 were different animals. A goat. A bird. And some sort of lizard. All of them were armed. Rusty spikes and hooked swords.
They moved forward as one. Brandon stepped sideways, slamming his fist into a wolf’s chest, driving it backwards. One of the other two snarled, slashing at Brandon with its sword. He ducked under the slashing sword, snapping his hand out and punching the wolf in the throat. Brandon pretended he was in the circle, trying to keep Gerrick from tossing him to the ground, and that the blades trying to carve him up were only training swords and not live blades.
The goat crashed into Brandon from behind. It tried to knock Brandon off his feet, using its momentum as a weapon. Brandon twisted, wrenching its head as he launched himself backward. The goat’s neck snapped and it hit the forest floor, twitching. Brandon dodged sideways, barely slipping past a thrusting stab from the bird. Its hooked beak stabbed at Brandon’s face and he used his shoulder to knock it sideways into a tree. It squawked, its sword dropping from its fluttering finger feathers. Brandon dove toward it, kicking the bird in the chest and snagging its sword as he passed.
He turned in time to catch the last wolf’s sword with the curved blade he procured from the bird. Its muzzle twisted into something that might have been a smile as it drove forward, trying to push past Brandon’s defenses. Brandon hissed as another blade slashed across his back. He spun, slicing the Lizard’s head from its shoulders and sending it bouncing across the forest floor. The wolf used the distraction to launch another attack. But before it could plunge its blade into Brandon’s back, there was a sudden sound from behind it. It spun and tried to block, but it was too slow. A sword sliced through the top of its skull, splashing blood and brains across the ground at Brandon’s feet.
Brandon turned in time to see Gerrick explode from the shadows, sword in hand. He danced through the trees, his sword flashing in the rain. The remaining grohlm screeched and tried to flee, but didn’t get far. Hurling a knife snatched from somewhere under his coat, Gerrick cut the bird in half as it tried to run. The knife hit another of the wolves in the throat, sending it thrashing and dying to the ground.
With a growl, the last of the wolves dove at Brandon. Brandon sidestepped its attack, driving the bird’s blade into the back of the thing’s neck. It hit the ground and tumbled to a stop next to a tree, its legs twitching as it died. Th
e rain intensified and Brandon could feel the wound in his back itching as it closed and healed. He heard more grohlm moving through the woods, fleeing. Breathing hard, he turned and looked at Gerrick.
Gerrick was dressed in jeans, a black shirt, and a black coat. The sword in his hand was dripping gore. Kneeling next to one of the dead grohlm, he wiped the blade of the sword on its matted fur, cleaning away the blood, and looked up at Brandon. He said. “If grohlm are here, then things are worse than I thought.”
Brandon just looked at his uncle and said. “I’ve lost her, haven’t I?”
Gerrick looked at him. Walking over to the wolf with his knife in its throat, Gerrick bent and pulled the blade free. Wiping the knife on the wolf’s fur, he said. “No. She still loves you.”
“But I can never have her, can I?” Brandon said. Gerrick walked over to where Brandon stood. He looked at Brandon’s back, at the already healed wound, and shook his head. “You heal almost as fast as your grandfather. Your father didn’t even heal that fast.” Brandon looked at him. “Will that keep me alive when Sha’ha’Zel comes for me?”
Gerrick shook his head. “I don’t know. But it can’t hurt.” He looked at the scattered bodies and said. “The grohlm will come for their dead later. Let’s go home.”
Brandon nodded and followed his uncle as he disappeared into the trees.
Sha’ha’Zel watched the two men vanish into the shadows and felt a sense of disappointment. The boy handled himself well, even outnumbered and untrained. He had the fierceness of his grandfather.
The Curse dropped from the tree limb that he was standing on, landing lightly among the dead grohlm. The smell of the grohlm’s blood was pungent and stung his nostrils. He could sense the other grohlm, hiding in the trees, watching him. They would stay back until he left. Grohlm feared Sha’ha’Zel nearly as much as they feared the Usurper.
The Curse knew he would have to take the boy soon. He saw how Merryweather had followed the girl home. He saw the girl’s tears. Love could not be fought. It always won out, in the end.
Rain Of Stone (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 1) Page 15
