Two days before the Black Tournament was meant to begin… the Merrik finally arrived.

Over the last few days I had been trying to modify my Temporary regeneration power so that it would continue to operate on Wulfric after he had switched into Metal form (previously TR switched off as soon as he transformed), but nothing I could figure out was working. As far as I could tell the problem was that he just didn’t register as being alive after transforming… and being alive was a primary condition for TR to operate in the first place.

So I changed my tactic, and instead built in a ‘transformation suppression’ sub-routine into TR, making it so that transformation effects could not activate while TR was operating. It was probably a good thing to have anyway, as it would also provide me a certain level of protection against any baleful force that had the power to forcibly transform others (if such things even existed in this world).

I was just adding a method to manually disable TR (before the time limit ran out) when a massive earthquake struck, shaking the entire underground bunker so hard that I was nearly knocked off my feet. Gasps and cries of alarm resounded through the small stone shelter as a tearing sound assaulted the ears of the eleven people who had spent the last five and a half days hiding from the beasts above. Bright sunlight filtered through the open portal as dust and pieces of stonework rained down from the gaping hole where the hatch had once been.

I looked around, about to activate my new and improved TR when I suddenly froze – a strong scent assaulted my nose just before I realized that there was a figure standing right in front of me. What the bloody beast! An incredibly old and dirty man, covered head to toe in blood, stood holding a gigantic black object that was nearly as large as his body.

My breath catching in my throat, I stumbled backwards… it was Merrik, and he was staring straight at me. I don’t think anyone else had noticed him yet; between the sudden bright light and the sound of the roof of the shelter partly collapsing we were all pretty confused. But how had he gotten in front of me so quickly! I swallowed, my legs shaking slightly… if he had wanted to kill me he could have done it before I had even noticed him arrive.

I tried to speak but couldn’t quite form words…

… and then abruptly all was a bright blur of nonsense and I couldn’t hear anything except the screaming wind in my ears…

The next thing I knew Merrik was setting me down in the middle of a field, and I dumbly stared at the large black object in his hand – it was the head of an absolutely enormous lizard-monkey… It must have been more than four times my height when it was alive!

Merrik was still staring at me, slowly chewing something as he absently stuck his free arm elbow deep through the skull of the beast. He extracted a bloody handful of brain, causing me to stagger backwards in disgust and horror as he shoved the mess into his mouth. I felt my stomach doing flips, but I was too shocked to truly feel sick.

“Why… are… you……. here….…. soouul-bi-n-der …” Merrik croaked out in a barely comprehensible rasp, leaving me to guess at what the last word might be.

Wait… did he just ask me a question? Did he say ‘Soulbinder’… what the hell did that mean? I wet my lips, trying to force myself to speak past the lump in my throat.

“Soul… Soulbinder?” I finally managed to ask. I wanted to apply TR now more than ever, but I knew he could rip my head off before I could even complete the thought if he so desired. I felt like an idiot… so I had considered myself powerful? What a joke…

Merrik stared at me for a long moment before taking another big handful of monkey-lizard brain. I was starting to become aware of the smell again… and it was absolutely indescribable. I wasn’t sure if I was smelling the beast brain, Merrik, or just an ungodly combination of the two.

“I…… com…. plete… … my… task…” He paused to swallow another lump of brain, “Soulbinder.”

And then the next thing I knew he was gone, taking the gigantic head with him.

I couldn’t get over how old he looked… he had few wrinkles, but he was covered in age-spots and his veins were clearly visible in the bright light of day. His back was slightly stooped, his hands had been gnarled and twisted with age, and I swear that his right eye had the milky clouds of a late-stage cataract.

“Heller!” I heard my name being called in the distance, and I spun around to see Wulfric, Tetra, and the rest of the squad racing towards me. I waited for them to arrive, needing as much time as I could get to compose myself. I didn’t remember ANYTHING having startled me that badly in… well… ever, actually. Probably an overstatement, but at the moment it certainly felt true.

My companions, on the other hand, seemed elated. “Was that the Merrik! Did he come to see you! What did he say!” Asked Tetra and Wulfric, speaking overtop each other. It took me a moment to process their words.

Right… I’m supposed to be the Merrik’s apprentice. I shuddered involuntarily. I knew there was no way I could fool them into thinking I was alright. For the moment they were blinded by their own excitement, but in a few moments they would realize how spooked I was.

The lie came out of my lips before I had even processed it, “He was… he was very angry… that I had… that…ah… I had put myself at risk.” I swallowed, giving them a shaky smile as the rest of the squad finished sweeping the area for threats.

They were both taken aback by my words, mouths open in circles of surprise. I needed to cut them off before they could ask any more questions.

“Let’s go!” I said, only needing a moment to orient myself once I knew where the shelter had been. I turned to face the direction of the Garrison and began running at full speed, using Qi to increase my personal time rate and leave everyone else behind. I still didn’t like lying, and I had no desire to add even more guilt on top of everything I was already feeling.

I pondered my brief encounter with Merrik as I ran. Nobody in living memory had ever spoken with him, as far as I knew, and judging from my brief conversation with him a few moments ago, even those few legends which claimed to record his words were either gross exaggerations, or outright fabrications.

Soulbinder… there was something incredibly important about that word… or about that title… from the way the Merrik had said it. But… what the hell did it mean?

--------------------------

I felt substantially recovered after a few minutes had passed, but I waited for a while longer before I finally slowed down and rejoined the group.

“Come on guys, we have to get to the Black Tournament!” I said with a laugh, trying to head off any questions about Merrik, and to the few who did ask I just smiled and said nothing. They soon got the hint.

We paused for a quick meal on our journey back to civilization, with the three of us exchanging easy banter with the squad of House Flameward Warriors. They were all really good people, once I got to know them. Even Gert, the woman who I had tossed aside, only laughed any time that story came up. But then, finally, came the important question… probably something I should have thought of myself...

“Heller… uh… well, I wanted to ask… how much of… this,” Said Commander Buzac, making a broad sweeping gesture, “can I include in my report? I mean… you know… about…” His voice trailed off as he motioned briefly in the direction of my two friends and I.

I smiled at him: I had a feeling that his leadership and the example he set was the main reason why the rest of the squad was so pleasant. I hadn’t even had to ask him to modify his report! “I don’t want you to get into any trouble, commander.” I said, politely feigning hesitation, like any good negotiator would.

“No… no… I think that this is far more important than something like that, Heller.” He looked over at the rest of the squad. “We have already talked it over, and everyone is willing to swear an oath of silence.”

I felt a rush of warmth, glad that I had a chance to deal with people as honorable as this man and his squad.

“Thank you, Commander.” I decided to trust him even further. “But I should inform you that Lord Runax already knows…”

Commander Buzac’s expression clouded over for a moment, and I got the brief impression that there was no love lost between him and frog-face. I somehow felt even more relieved.

“Yes… I suspected as much, after all that has happened over the last few days…” He smiled, “No need to modify my reports very much, in that case, though I will omit details about your friend Wulfric, as well as specifics of what your abilities might be, if you like.”

No need to modify them much? “What about the Captain of the Garrison? Does he not receive the reports as well?” I asked him, puzzled by his statement.

And that’s how I get my second, although comparatively minor, shock of the day. Commander Buzac’s face very mildly flushed as he looked away for a moment, while a few of the soldiers chuckled.

The commander wore a faintly embarrassed smile when he looked back at me, straightening his back, “He knows.” The commander gave me a salute, “Captain Buzac of the North Stone Garrison, at your service.”

What the….

--------------------------

We continued the rest of the trek at a somewhat more leisurely pace, and I learned a whole heck of a lot more about House Flameward than I had known before… although… that isn’t saying much….

Captain Buzac had been appointed by the High Lord Flameward himself, a man for whom the Captain had no end of praise. Apparently High Lord Flameward, and many of his ancestors before him, took part in frontline combat nearly as often as their soldiers! And that was a tradition which Captain Buzac now followed himself, often taking part in field assignments when his duties allowed.

It had been High Lord Flameward who had sacrificed himself to slow the God-Wolf all those years ago, after it had broken through the gates of the Garrison before they could be firmly shut. There had simply been too little warning in that attack, he told me, and the beast had been upon them before the last of the servants had even made it across the training grounds!

Captain Buzac somberly told me that he had been planning to sacrifice himself as well, seeing no greater honor than the chance to fight, and die, alongside High Lord Flameward. But the man had given him a final mission… to escape with every single child from Academy, and not to dare let a single one be harmed.

And Captain Buzac had completed his mission, if only due to a twist of fate that somehow saw the Merrik arrive days before he usually would.

But all was not death and darkness, Captain Buzac assured me. The Heir of House Flameward was a fine young man, every bit as noble and upstanding as his father, having chosen to come and train on the Frontier, where his father died in battle, rather than the safety of The City. I couldn’t help but feel moved by the Captain’s words, and it gave me a great deal of hope to know that not every noble on this planet was a scumbag…

When I brought the conversation back to Lord Runax, Captain Buzac had a lot less to say; nothing good, and nothing bad. ‘He does the best he is capable of’ is the closest I could get to an endorsement for poor-old froggy.

He was a bit more forthcoming on the matter of Hunter Alder, however.

“Alder was a minor noble, from what I understand, but he was transferred out here after he offended one too many of his peers back in The City.” Pausing for a moment, Captain Buzac gave me a lopsided smile. “The poor fool used to be one of Lord Runax’s favorites, but ever since that incident four years ago Lord Runax has completely cut off contact with the man.” He was probably drawing some conclusions about what might have happened and decided to give me an opening if I wanted to elaborate, but was polite enough not push if I decided to hold my piece.

Which I did. I was quite certain that Alder was dead… not that I could bring myself to be happy about it, since his death came at the expense of nearly every Warrior sent out with us, even the rather abrupt man with the diagonal scar across his face… And I tried not to think of Hunter Omylia, smiling kindly as she patted my head in her awkward attempt at encouragement.