MerivelInTheForestIndex | HomePage | GameLogs | OtherGameLogs | Merivel In the Forest Jonkers rode beside Merivel. "So, Maester," he said, "what do you think of our woods?" "Are you asking me as a Maester?" Merivel replied with a slowly forming smile. "I could entertain, or bore perhaps, you on the entire trip with a monograph on flora here versus, say, the Vale where I grew up. The forest here clearly shows that it grows in a colder clime, for starters." "Does it?" said Jonkers, surprised - the man had clearly not strayed far from Holdfast in his life. Now he looked around at the forest as though seeing it with new eyes. "How can you tell?" Merivel smiled. "It takes someone who has traveled hundreds of miles to see it." Merivel began. "And, although I have never been across the sea, I would wager that it is true there as well." "Look at these trees." Merivel reached and plucked the needles from a pine tree. "Down south, in the vale, there are less of these, and more trees with big, fat, broad leaves that can soak up the sun, since they have a longer growing season. Trees here have less time to grow before it gets cooler, and so they have to put their energies into growth, rather than pretty leaves." "Of course, that means that they do grow faster here, when it is growing season." Merivel added. "Did you know that the days here are longer during the growing season and much shorter in the fallow season than further south?" "No, I didn't," said Jonkers. He was looking impressed at all this erudition. "Is that why the trees hereabouts growing so tall and straight? I've seen pictures ... there are trees that are ... " He waved his arms. "Fatter. What other differences are there?" "Yes, trees are often broader in the south. And, compared to the trees here which have leaves and not needtles, the trees down south are less likely to have their leaves change color, and be lost." "There are Maesters who do little else than study plants." Merivel confessed. "I couldn't begin to tell you what they have learned, because I don't know it either. Some of them cut down branches and even trees to look at what's inside of trees. And there is so much we still don't know." Merivel's voice showed his pride. "But one day, me and the other Maesters will find these hidden secrets, for the sheer pleasure of it, and to better lives." It was mid-morning now, and although the road through the forest was no wider than a broad cart, enough sun was filtering down to make the day pleasantly warm. Cleeve, who had been riding point, drew rein and waited for the others to come up to him. "There's a forester's cottage set a little back from the road just a mile or so ahead," he reported. "We could stop there for our mid-day meal - the goodwife brews good ale." Trowen and Dobbin warmly seconded this suggestion - Jonkers seemed less sure. But they all looked to Merivel for a lead. For the process of his answer, he glanced upward at the position of the sun. "I think, myself, its a little early. Now, if there are no better places that we can reach in a couple of hours, then I would say to stop now and then push on hard until nightfall. Otherwise, I would prefer to continue our ride to the next possible stopping point." Merivel looked toward the guards for their answer. "There's a ford about three miles up ahead," said Jonkers. We could stop there - the water's good." Cleeve was scowling. "No beer though," said Trowen. Dobbin looked disappointed. "Good," said Jonkers. "Beer would make us sleepy in the afternoon, wouldn't it, Maester?" Merivel chuckled and held up a hand in protest. "Now, I can't filter the entirety of my Maester training into a single ride between Holdfast and Clearwater." "It is true that alcohol does, in the end, leaden down one's temperment and energies, like adding weights into a boat. Let us proceed and camp on the far side of the ford and break our hunger there." Merivel said. Jonkers nodded, clearly relieved. After a moment looking saddened, Dobbin smiled too, clearly realising that this was what Jonkers wanted. But Cleeve and Trowen looked less than happy as they rode on. Trown dropped back to the rear; at the front Cleeve picked up the pace. Jonkers watched them, frowning. "You seem disturbed. I know that I am." Merivel said quietly to Jonkers as Trown and Cleeve made their maneuvers to bracket them widely. Merivel found himself, despite overt desires, judging Cleeve ahead of them, and using glances behind him at Trown, using his abilities at getting a sense of their combat capabilities. Jonkers nodded. "I'm surprised those two have been sent with you," he said quietly to Merivel. They're not popular in the guardhouse. They're usually ... " He frowned. "Well, let's say they wouldn't usually volunteer for anything that might be ... dangerous. And yet ... " He looked up ahead to where Cleeve was riding easily, as though he had not a care in the world. "I am glad that you are riding with me, Jonkers." Merivel said. "I'll take all the allies that I can get, out here in the wildlands. It would be a different world if it were quiet and safe to travel between keep and keep, holding and holding." Jonkers seemed a little embarrassed by the encomium, but he said, with the air of one confessing a great secret, "Ser Anders has said that if I go on like this, I'll be made corporal before Winter comes. And then, maybe, sergeant one day." "I wish you luck and success in your endeavor." Merivel replied. "To do the best one can do at something one does well is, to some writers I have read, the very soul of what it means to be a great man, or woman for that matter." He seemed happy to ride on, contemplating the honours in store for him. Trowen seemed to be falling further and further behind ... indeed, he was no longer visible. "Trowen?" Merivel called aloud, and then his instinct told him to look ahead, to afix where Cleeve was in the midst of this. Cleeve was still in sight. At the shout, he reined in his horse, waiting either for them to catch up, or to signal him to rejoin them. But there was no sign of Trowen. "Pretending that nothing is wrong doesn't make it so." Merivel said, looking back at where Trowen should be. Merivel frowned as he then regarded Jonkers. "Were there any turn offs or side paths that I didn't notice in my tendency to overspeak?" he asked. Jonkers frowned. "Rabbit tracks, I'd say. Not enough to tempt a man tro turn aside." "Perhaps he's fallen off," suggested Dobbin with a chuckle. "It's possible," said Jonkers, shooting an uneasy look at Merivel. "Or his horse might have thrown a shoe. Strange he didn't call out, though. Do you wish me to ride back and find him, Maester?" "Yes, although I want Dobbin to accompany you. Cleeve and I are going to stop and wait here while you do." Merivel said firmly. He raised his hand and signaled Cleeve to come back to them. "And let what come what may." Merivel said softly, to himself. Jonkers watched Cleeve coming back towards them, and then looked again uneasily at Merivel. "Maester ... are you sure? Send him back with Dobbin ... I'll wait here with you ... " "I am sure." Merivel said. "If something foul is going to happen to me, and it is the will of those who formerly had me as a guest, then let it happen." His eyes held both sadness and determination. "No blame will be attached to you. You will be able to testify and swear to it." Jonkers shook his head. "I vowed to Ser Anders that I'd ride with you and protect you. Let Cleeve go back with Dobbin ... I don't trust him - but he won't be able to suborn Dobbin." Cleeve was now within hailing distance - but Jonkers waited till he was closer before he said, "Trowen's disappeared." Cleeve shot a sharp look towards Merivel before saying blandly, "Oh? How did that happen?" "He slipped further and further behind. I'd like for you and " he paused a moment and regarded Jonkers thoughtfully. "Dobbin" "I'd like you and Dobbin go and retrieve him. Jonkers and I will wait here. No sense in us getting too much more fragmented." Cleeve looked startled, and then angry, as though he was about to protest. But a level, steady stare from Jonkers seemed to quell him, and he wheeled his horse and trotted off back down the road with Dobbin, ginning hugely, at his heels. "Do you want to stay here?" asked Jonkers. "Or do you want to get off the road and into the bushes?" "I was ready to stick my head in the wolf's jaws all alone." Merivel replied. "I am not going to skulk now. I say that we wait on the road, especially if there really is trouble." Jonkers glanced at him, and then nodded. The sound of Cleeve and Dobbin and their horses slowly died away ... And suddenly the forest seemed very quietly, waiting. Only the song of their own horses' bridles jangling. A sudden scurry in the undergrowth was startling. "Only a rabbit," said Jonkers, with a sigh of relief. And then they heard the creak of a wagon's wheels, approaching steadily from the direction of Holdfast. "I don't recall any wagons getting ready to leave Holdfast." Merivel commented, looking at Jonkers for his reaction to the approaching sound. Jonkers shrugged slightly. "None from the castle - but this could well be from the town." The wagon was coming nearer and nearer ... "Let's move to the side of the road at least," suggested Jonkers, "so that it can pull past." Merivel hesitated a moment and then nodded. "We'll take opposite sides." he suggested. "Just in case." Merivel walked over to one side of the road, stepping a few feet off of it, and turned to face the road again. He crouched so as to be a little less visible and with eyes cast up at the road, began to watch, vigilant. Slowly a wagon came into view. A low wagon, with goods stored under a spread cloth, cauled to protect it from the weather and the drip of the trees. There was a single diver, a man in a dark green cloak who was stooped over as though with age. Only a pale glimmer told where his face was. Jonkers, similarly withdrawn to Merivel, was watching its approach, frowning. He did not seem to be alarmed - more puzzled. Merivel tried to shoot a querulous look to Jonkers. He then turned to regard the wagon warily as it continued to approach. The cart drew level ... and Jonkers stepped forward. "Tovis? I didn't know you were heading for market today ... " "He isn't," growled the driver, and suddenly he stood up, a tall man, the cloak falling back from his head to reveal his shining bald head. Jonker gave a cry and drew his blade, but before it was even half out of its scabbard, Jonkers staggered backward with a gurgling cry and a dagger buried deep in his throat. Merivel stifled a cry of surprise as the enemy revealed himself, and Jonkers fell. Shocked, his hand was barely able to move to the hilt of his blade, but he did not move from his crouched position. The cart drew up to a halt, and the weathered cloth over the back was thrown back, revealing one of the largest men that Merivel had ever seen - larger even than Dobbin. The bald man on the front was standing up now, looking around. "Where is he?" boomed the large man. "I can't see him," returned the other. "He won't be far; he won't have strayed from his guard. He was slowly circling, looking around ... soon his eye would fall on the part of the forest where Merivel was, together with his horse.
a moment more, before his hands moved to the cage where the raven was pent up. "Fly, fly home. At least Rhys will know that I'm dead." he said in a whisper to the raven as he opened the door to its cage. And then, with all the skill he could muster and recall from his days in the Vale, Merivel mounted his horse as fast as he was able. That was quite rapidly; the horse was biddable one. But now he was faced with a choice - to ride into the woods would give him more cover directly, but the ground would be harder to ride faster over, and there would be more danger of accidents, to say nothing of the danger of becoming lost. He would certainly make his way faster over the open road (and his attackers had but one horse between them, and that already tacked to a cart) ... but he would be presenting a better target - and who knew whether ambushes would have been laid for him? Merivel hesitated only a moment while on top of the steed. His eyes scanned ahead, and then over to the road. "Road" he said aloud to himself, and he spurred his horse to take an intercept course for the road, whereupon he could hopefully make better speed on the road than pursuers on foot or in a cart or on a horse more used to draft work. He reached the road easily - although shouts from the wagon told him that he had been spotted. Merivel didn't hesitate, he spurred the horse to move to speed. He looked backward now and again to gauge pursuit as he continued to make his way toward the Kingsroad. The further he got from Holdfast and the closer he got to Clearwater, the more the terrain would favor him. And while it was proven that Holdfast was a danger, he might find allies, if the pursuit proved to continue all the way to his home. And the raven hopefully would warn Rhys of what had befallen him. So in the direction of home, Merivel sped. He heard shouts and cries behind him ... but they soon faded. In a surprisingly short space of time he was on his own, on the lonely forest road. In about a quarter iof an hour he came to the point Jonkers has spoken of, where a narrow river flowed across the road, creating a ford. There was no way for Merivel to gauge how deep it was. Merivel slowed and stopped his mount as he reached the ford. Dismounting with reluctance, Merivel looked behind at the lonely road and listened for a minute or so. Then, with a sigh, he began to carefully lead the horse into the water. Merivel took each step carefully, testing every move forward to see if the water would become too deep for him and his mount. It was not deep - no more than knee height, and the horse manage it easily. But it was certainly higher than his boots ... When he reached the other side and mounted again, he could hear hoofbeats behind him. At some distance - but they might well know they need not dismount for the ford ... Merivel didn't realize his mistake until he was back on his horse. He looked back at the sound of the hoofbeats, and at the ford. He eschewed the idea of breaking for a meal. He spurred his horse forward, quickly onto the continuation of the road. As he sped along, he continued to listen and be wary of the pursuit behind him. It might yet be a time to change tactics if he did not want to die on this lonely route between Holdfast and the Kingsroad. It was hard to hear another horse over the hoofbeats of his own, and hard if he did to tell whether it was a pursuer or the echo of his own hoofbeats, magnified by the canopy of leaves. He would need to stop and listen - and yet if he did that, he might be caught. But soon he might have no choice. His horse, it seemed, was beginning to tire ... Merivel considered his options as he slowed his mount's speed to a trot, hoping to let the horse get back some of its strength with the slackened pace. Merivel continued to try to listen regardless, or find clues as to how far behind his pursuers were. If his mount were to truly tire, then Merivel intended to abandon the road, and find cover where both might rest. Now he could hear other horses - two of them, he judged. One sounded fresh, the other even more tired than his own mount. Some two hundred yards behind, he might judge. Merivel whirrled around and patted the head of his horse. "Time to get off the road." he said to himself. His eyes scanned both sides of the road, looking for a suitable space between the three that he might be able to send his small steed through, and get out of sight. His heart beat in his chest like the fluttering of a small bird's wings as he guided his horse toward what he hoped would be safety. There was a dip just off the road .... it was possbly to ride into that and hope with some justification that his horse might be hidden in the trees and bushes. And, if he wished, he could scramble back up the bank and watch more closely to see who was riding by ... He left the horse by a tree and patted it. "Stay here." Merivel commanded softly, and slowly scrambled back up the slope so that he was level with the road. Moving with cautious steps, Merivel finally found a position that kept him hidden by a pair of imposing trees. Upon doing so,he crouched, watched and waited. He did not have to wait long. Two riders came into view almost immediately. One was the bald-headed man from the cart, mounted on Jonkers' horse. The other was the guard - Trowen, the one who had fallen behind. But he was riding in harmony with Merivel's attacker now. Merivel silently winced at the sight of Trowen. They rode a little way past Merivel and then stopped, close enough for Merivel to hear their voices. "I can't hear him." "He'll have turned off the road, then." The bald-headed man swore. "He's a Southerner," said Trowen. "He'll not know woodcraft. We'll find him." The bald-headed man looked around at the vastness of the forest. Clearly, he had his doubts.
In this game of cat and mouse, one false move could prove fatal. "We should start to search," said Trowen. He must have turned off somewhere around here - this was where the sound of his hoofbeats stopped. The bald man leaned over the side of his horse and spat. "You search. I'm going back to make sure the body's well hidden before your friend comes back with that fool Dobbin." "And how will you explain the horse?" said Trowen. "I'll say I found it," said the other, turning his horse and preparing to ride back the way he had come. "It's for the oaf to solve the mystery - not me." And he kicked his horse to a canter, riding back down the path. Left alone, Trowen dismounted and began to examine the stony road for tracks. Clearly he did not expect a Maester to be capable of self-defence - and was assuming Merivel had fled into the forest like a frightened hare. Merivel's gaze burned as he watched and listened to the conversation, but he remained stock still even as the bald man headed back to the body of Jonkers. That left Trowen. Merivel calculated his options quickly and relentlessly. His hand reached and found a stone in the dirt, and he held it in his left hand. His right hand strayed to the pommel of his sword. If Trowen found the tracks that led toward the horse, Merivel would have to stalk him in the forest and take him on. And for the death of Jonkers alone, Merivel was prepared to do just that. Trowen moved back and forward slowly, examining the tracks. Slowly, after a few minutes, he straightened and started to smile, staring at the point in the forest where Merivel had entered it - not ten yards from where the young Maester now stood. He began to walk towards it ... and towards the horse Merivel had hidden. Merivel's heart thudded in his chest as Trowen finally found the tracks, clearly judging from where he had stood, and now where he was walking. Sweat greased his palms and Merivel breathed in and out, slowly, as he watched Trowen walk. He did not move until Trowen was within the forest itself, so that the sound of Trowen's movement would mask his own. And move Merivel began to do, angling so that he would wind up between Trowen and the road he had left in search of the young Maester. The rock still felt heavy in his hand, and his other hand was firmly on the pommel of his sword as he slowly moved to stalk his foe. Trowen seemed unaware that he was being followed. He moved in a somewhat stealthy way through the trees ... and saw Merivel's horse. That seemed to give him pause - for the horse was alone. He cast a glance around, and then moved forward again to the horse, as though to establish that Merivel was really not there ... Closer...closer. Merivel waited for Trowen to approach the horse, raising his arm to hurl the stone. His goal was to throw it past and ahead of Trowen and the horse, so that when it landed, it sounded like Merivel was somewhere ahead. If the horse could be startled slightly by the disturbance, it might be all the distraction Merivel would need to completely take Trowen's attention away so that he could move in for a strike. The stone had all the effect Merivel could have wished. The horse started in alarm and Trown leapt, and then moved forward, drawing his sword as he did so - his back now presented squarely to Merivel. Merivel had never killed a man, nor had he struck a man in anger, with a sword, unless one counted some of the sword lessons back in the Vale, when he had been exhorted by Father's armsmaster to do better. And it was then that he had learned that anger was a hindrance, and the goal of using a sword was to defeat one's opponent. And so, Merivel did not hesitate, and struck without reserve with his unsheathed blade at Trowen's upper back, seeking to disable, or more, his foe as rapidly as possible. The man slumped forward with a grunt, dropping to his knees, and then pitching forward onto his face. The whole forest was breathlessly still. Merivel stood there for a moment, looking at the stricken man. *Did I kill him?* Merivel asked himself, silent in the still forest. He put a hand on the back of his neck, checking to see if the body was still warm. Reluctantly, he quickly and efficiently searched the stricken Trowen, looking for anything useful that might make his journey east easier., or perhaps anything he might use for evidence. Once he did so, he mounted his horse, and began angling back toward the road, and back east, once more. There was little in the man's pockets except what a guard might legimately carry. But as he turned his horse to the road, he heard a voice. "With all respect, Maester, I suggest you draw rein there." Facing him some ten yards ahead and on the rim of the road, a throwing dagger in his hand, was the bald-headed man. Merivel considered his options for a moment, nodded, and drew rein where his horse stood, 10 yards away from his foe. His heart beat in his breast and he regarded his opponent. "If you intend to end my life, may I not first know why that I must die?" Merivel said calmly, his voice barely keeping steady. "You won't die," said the bald-headed man. "Less money if you die. While you live and breathe, your price increases. Unless you make it more trouble for us to keep you alive than to kill you." There was a tension in his stance that suggested he was not wholly confident that he had Merivel safely yet. Perhaps Merivel's lethal attack on the guard had taken the other man by surprise. "A price on my head? You must be confusing me with someone wealthy. I'm just a Maester." Merivel replied, just a little bit sardonically. He continued to size up the bald headed man from the perch of his horse, judging just how he was holding that throwing dagger, getting a sense of the man's abilities. "You've already killed my travelling companion, in cold blood." Merivel added, continuing his scrutinizing gaze. "Forgive me if I don't entirely trust your words." "You won't die," said the bald-headed man. "Less money if you die. While you live and breathe, your price increases. Unless you make it more trouble for us to keep you alive than to kill you." There was a tension in his stance that suggested he was not wholly confident that he had Merivel safely yet. Perhaps Merivel's lethal attack on the guard had taken the other man by surprise. "A price on my head? You must be confusing me with someone wealthy. I'm just a Maester." Merivel replied, just a little bit sardonically. He continued to size up the bald headed man from the perch of his horse, judging just how he was holding that throwing dagger, getting a sense of the man's abilities. "You've already killed my travelling companion, in cold blood." Merivel added, continuing his scrutinizing gaze. "Forgive me if I don't entirely trust your words." The man smiled sourly. "I'm not looking to win your trust, just your obedience. And you have killed one of rthose meant to work with me, so I would say we are even. Maester or no, your presence is required - or perhaps it would be more accurate to term it your living absence is required. So ... if you would be so good as to push back the sleeves of your robe and walk over to me ... very slowly." "Living absence? From Clearwater or Holdfast?" Merivel made absolutely no move to get off of his horse or to push back the sleeves of his robe. "My taste for being a hostage is small, Master Dagger Thrower. However, it is completely nil without knowing for what and for whom I would be a hostage." The bald headed man laughed. "You think my employer would tell the likes of me? There were silver stags for taking you, and there'll be gold dragons for proof of our success. What more do we need to know, eh? Or you, for that matter." Merivel slid off the horse, with a sad air. He drew his sword slowly and deliberately as he faced the bald-headed man. "I can't simply allow you to take me without a price." Merivel said, as if lecturing a would-be student. "Earn those silver stags and gold dragons your employer has promised.." Merivel said as he started to move toward the bald headed man with his sword warily and carefully. The man shook his head. "Foolish. Foolish." He was moving towards Merivel, the dagger glinting in his hand. And then a lot of things seemed to happen rather rapidly. Merivel felt what seemed to be a violent punch! in his left shoulder. The bald-headed man swung round with an oath - and Mervil saw a quarrel seemingly sticking in his back, high up. The colours of the wood seemed to be fading - as though night was rapidly falling ... Then a voice - high-pitched and oddly fluting. "Come on! We can't leave you here!" A hand, pulling at his robes ... and suddenly he was stumbling deeper into the forest ... and night was coming on faster and faster and .... He was suddenly awake. He could feel a rough blanket under his cheek. He could hear the crackle of a fire, some distance in front of him. His left shoulder felt strangely warm and numb at the same time. But he had a terrific headache. Merivel tried to stifle a groan as he came back to consciousness. The pain in his head, and the discomfort in his shoulder drowned out a lot of other sounds and sensations, but, with eyes still closed and feigning sleep, Merivel tried to take stock of what just had happened in those tangled last few moments before all was lost. He stirred slightly, as a sleeper would, but only opened his eyes a miniscule amount, as he felt, by warmth, which direction the fire was and rolled so that the light of the fire might catch his very partially opened eyes. It was a small fire, carefully built. A latticework of twigs - as though it had been created for some special purpose. A man's voice. "Is he awake?" Warm, deep. A strange accent, though. "Perhaps." A woman's voice, the one he had heard before, urging him away. A rustle of leaves, and then he was conscious of someone kneeling beside him. "Sir ... Maester ... are you awake?" The voice, which had the same strange accent, seemed to suggest that waking up would not be unpleasant or dangerous. "Yes" Merivel said, still with a cautious tone in his voice. Whoever it was, they knew what he was, even if their speech suggested that they didn't know who he was. Finally, Merivel opened his eyes, and groaned in discomfort as his eyes sought the person with the strange accent. Someone was crouched beside him, regarding him carefully. It seemed a strange hybrid, for although the person had a woman's face and throat, and two long plaits of deep auburn, she was also wearing man's garb. "I have dressed your wound," she said. "It was deep, but damaged nothing vital. Still, you should rest." Someone else moved into view - a man, slightly older than the woman but with the same dark red hair and a similar cast of features that suggested they must be related. "We should stay here till tomorrow," he said. "Then we shall see about finding you safety." "I suppose I must need thank you for my life, or at least my freedom. Who are you two, and how did you come upon my plight?" Merivel asked. He tried to roll to regard the pair better, and gave off a groan as he found it relatively painful to do much at this stage. The pair of them glanced at one another, and then the man smiled. "You should call me Tree, and my companion Leaf," he said. "For then you might say, with perfect truth, that you saw naught in the forest but trees and leaves ... " Leaf had moved forward to help Merivel sit up. "We were ... travelling. But all of you made so very much noise as you blundered through the forest that we came to look." The slightly apologetic look she shot at Tree suggested that the curiousity had been hers. "Tree. Leaf." Merivel pronounced these names carefully but mainly focused on the young woman. A peculiar thought came to him, but he dismissed it a moment later. "I am not a woodsman." Merivel said, with a trace of apology in his voice. "I was merely trying to save my own poor life." They both smiled involuntarily at that. "We ... ah .... reached that conclusion," said Tree diplomatically. "But those who pursued you were nearly as bad," said Leaf. "Still, those who follow might be better," said Tree. "When you feel more steady, we should go on - and you can tell us who seeks your death - and why." "That might take a short while, but I don't want to linger here ever long. Wherever here is, of course." Merivel answered. "And I do not know the details of who seeks my death, although I can make some." Merivel groaned involuntarily. "Some very educated guesses at this stage." "I'd like to know more about my rescuers, too, if you are willing to share, of course." Merivel answered. Another look passed between Tree and Leaf, and there was no doubt of their wariness. "What do you wish to know?" said Tree. "I'll be frank with you, Maester - there's not much that we can safely tell. Safely for us, certainly, and safely for you too, perhaps." "Don't make him nervous," said Leaf. "Maester ... we will take you where you will be safe, if you will name the place." "But not Holdfast," cut in Tree. Leaf looked at him. "No. Not Holdfast," she agreed. "Holdfast is where I was journeying from." Merivel replied, groaning a little less this time as he moved his head. "And, I believe, the agency and the origin of the kidnappers lies there. I tried to send a warning to them of my attack, to someone I can trust, but I don't know if they will receive it." "I need to return to Clearwater, my mysterious rescuers." Merivel continued, regarding Leaf and Tree. "That is where I was going." "We cannot take you so far," said Tree decisively. "But we can take you closer ... beyond the edge of the forest." "Not too far beyond," cut in Leaf. The pair exchanged another look. "No," said Tree. "Not too far beyond." Merivel listened, and watched carefully at the interactions between the two siblings. A slow nod began to form as they responded, and Merivel smiled slightly. "Any help that you can give is more help than the none I had any right to expect from anyone." Merivel said. "The edge of the forest..." Merivel paused and smiled a little more "your Greenwood..." Merivel's expression turned more neutral again. "will be more than sufficient. An elegant sufficiency, one might say. From there, I can make my own plans and travel, even if without horse or baggage." Merivel groaned before finishing. "I still have my head, hands and heart, after all." "We could set him on the road to Leaning Stone," suggested Leaf. Tree shook his head. "Leaning Stone is no place for an honest Maester," he said decisively. "We need to find a trading party on the King's Road, heading for Clearwater, or at least Marshend. Do you know the place, Maester?" "I know *of* Marshend." Merivel admitted. "I don't know Leaning Stone at all. If I had a choice, and it was not the King's Road, I would rather head toward Marshend." "Then we are agreed," said Leaf decisively. "We shall rest for now, and move on through the darkness." Tree nodded. "By then you should be recovered sufficient for the journey." "All right." Merivel nodded and then had a thought. He groaned and muttered a curse as he turned to look at Tree and Leaf. "Tree. I've just thought of something, curse the blow to my head for not realizing it sooner. Its possible that others might come from Holdfast, but not enemies. Just before things turned violent, I sent a raven back to Holdfast, a signal that I was in danger. Its possible that not only those who would injure me are seeking me, but those who are seeking to aid me as well." Tree and Leaf looked at one another in consternation. "Can we afford to wait for night?" Leaf asked. Tree shook his head. "We should not move before then. The Maester is in no condition to move yet." "But if they bring *dogs*!" Leaf protested. She gave a little shudder. "Not dogs again." Merivel turned, groaning slightly as he did so. He regarded Leaf. A light grew in his eyes, a light of recognition, of something long read, a puzzle put together just now in the haze of the pain of his wounds. "Your people do not use dogs or hounds?" he asked quietly. "We do," said Tree. "Leaf just prefers not to be hunted with them, like an animal." Her expression suggested that Tree was quite correct. Merivel gave a thoughtful nod, filing away the information. "Let's wait an hour or so," said Tree, "If the Maester feels strong enough to move then, we should head out towards the Kingsroad." "If it weren't for the dogs," said Leaf, "we could probably wait and see whether you are sought by friends or enemies before we move. But with dogs on our track, we cannot take the risk." "I would not put my rescuers into undue danger." Merivel said. "It would be quite ill of me to repay your kindness by exposing you to discovery, which..." Merivel groaned. "this business about dogs is really about, isn't it?" Tree nodded slowly, his eyes on Merivel's face. "It goes without saying but I will say it that I will keep your secret." Merivel finished. He briefly contemplated rising, started to do so, and then went back to a horizontal position again. "Rest," said Leaf immediately. "I can make you something that should help the pain." She looked at him for his agreement. Merivel began to nod, but was interrupted by Tree's words. "We may not have time," said Tree quietly. "Someone is moving to the east." "Of course." Merivel said. "It would have to be that way, wouldn't it?" Merivel looked around and with effort tried to get to his feet. "Friend or foe, I don't intend to remain prone." He tried to stay vertical by force of will and effort. Leaf hastened to his side, offering support under his uninjured arm. "We should take him to Clearing," she said quietly. Tree looked alarmed. "That would be risking not only his life - but ours as well," he said. "Clearing? What's Clearing and why is it so perilous?" Merivel asked, as he shook his head and tried to ignore his discomfort. Even as he spoke, his head turned toward the East, as if trying to espy who or what Tree had long since detected. "Clearing is not perilous," said Leaf, a little hesitantly. "It is perilous for you to be taken there ... Maester - would you consent to be blindfolded that we might lead you in safety?" Merivel laughed, nearly losing the support of Leaf in the process. "I am in the middle of the forest and while I could probably deduce what direction I am travelling by the position of sun and stars, I do not know right now where I am." "Therefore." Merivel continued. "How can I object to being blindfolded, since you cannot further confuse my location any more than you already have? I will just need a little help walking blindfolded, with my injuries, is all." "And help you shall have," said Leaf. She reached in her pack and pulled out a piece of soft leather, and then walked over to Merivel to bind it around his eyes. She was thorough - he discovered he scould not see even a sliver of light when she was done. "My vision is completely negated." Merivel said, perhaps more half in respect for the job done. "Not even a moonless overcast night is this completely dark." "Are you ready to go?" Tree asked. His voice sounded oddly muted. "You didn't bind my hearing any, did you?" Merivel asks, trying to turn slightly toward Tree and deciding against it. "I'm sorry," said Leaf. "But I had to tie it a little over your ears to make it secure." Merivel nodded at this. "I'm ready." he finishes. He felt Leaf's hand on his arm, guiding him forward. At first it was hard to move like this - and, despite the muffling, he seemed to be unable to avoid making a lot of noise. But, as he became more used to it, the way became easier. At one point they stopped abruptly, and he felt Leaf lay two fingers on his lips, enjoining silence. Merivel stopped his motion completely, his heart beating in his chest as he remained still, with one of his senses taken away and a second one reduced in effectiveness. Feeling vulnerable and somewhat afraid, he stifled the sound rising in his throat and stood stock still, silently. He heard the sound of rustling leaves ahead and the chink of metal. At his side he was aware of Leaf's faint, fluttering breaths. It seemed as though they stood still for hours ... but then he felt Leaf move and then her hand, drawing him forward. Merivel moved reluctantly. Clumsy at first, as someone in pitch darkness is reluctant to move, even with the hand of Leaf to guide him. Finally, he cleared his throat, although not loudly, just for the sake of making at least some sort of sound in the too-quiet environment. And then his steps came more confidently, more regularly as he moved forward. After a while he was aware of a rustling that came from neither trees or water. People - people all around him - and they were whispering angrily. Then a male voice spoke out more clearly - young, with a touch of arrogance. "Why have tou brought him here? He will bring danger on us all!" As Merivel stood there and heard the hot headed words, he found his free hand balling into a fist, and releasing, again and again. "I was given sanctuary and my life was saved by these two." Merivel said quietly. "It is not my intent to bring danger upon they, or anyone save my enemies. I do not count those who would shelter me my enemy." "We will not harm one who comes to us as a friend," interposed another voice. A woman - and older. "Tell me, children, where did you find your stranger?" "In the forest - he was being pursued by men from Holdfast who were trying to kill him!" burst out Leaf. "And otrher men," put in Tree. "Strangers to our forest - and they killed one of the Holdfast men." "A strange tale," said the voice again. "Perhaps your Maester could tell us the truth of it. Take off his blindfold." Merivel felt Leaf's hands at the back iof his blindfold. "And I am Leaf," she said. "And Ha ... he is Tree." There was a chuckle. "I see. Then I shall be Glade, and you shall be Bough." "Why don't we just kill him?" growled the hostile young man. Then the blindfold was off and Merivel saw he was standing in a small woodland clearing of immense age. Facing him was a woman, with long grey hair pulled back in a plait, her face comparatively unlined, although her skin was weatherbeaten. Beside her was a fair haired young man, whose features were similar to those of Tree and Leaf - but he was scowling at Merivel. Merivel breathed one sigh of relief as the blindfold was removed, and he could see the clearing, and its denizens. His gaze slowly rotates from the grey haired woman, to the fair haired young man, to Tree, to Leaf, and back again to the two relative strangers. "If you were simply to kill me." Merivel said, in a carefully modulated tone of voice. "Then the risks that Tree and Leaf performed in saving my life would have been for naught, and you would dishonor what they have done. I might have well been left with the Holdfast men to die." "I have enemies in Holdfast, as you evidently do. Can not the enemy of my enemy be if not my friend, then at least worthy of not simply being killed outright?" Merivel asked. "Do not worry, Maester," said the older woman. "I have no intention of killing you. I will, indeed, feed you instead." Merivel breathed only a very slight sigh of relief, but he remained wary. She made a gesture, and Leaf moved forward, to catch Bough's hand and pull him away - doubtless to prepare the food. Tree remained, a quiet and watchful presence as Glade gestured towards a part of the clearing where upturned trees provided crude seats around a low-burning fire. "But the price of your meal will be a tale. The tale of what has brought you to this pass." Merivel moved to follow Glade's direction toward the upturned trees, making a few tentative steps before answering her request. "Well, then, that is not as simple a request as you might think. Where to begin?" he said. "Doubtless, those of you as wise in the ways of the land here realize that I am a relative stranger in the North. So, should I start with how I first came here to the North? Or, for brevity, how I came to visit Holdfast, and thence set on the fateful road and the attackers that Leaf and Tree rescued me from?" Glade smiled. "I do not need the tale of your whole life, Maester. The latter tale will do for now." Her voice was curiously cultivated - it lacked even the slight Northern accent he had heard at Holdfast, even from the nobility. (The smallfolk, of course, had broader Northern accents). Merivel nodded, and closed his eyes. He kept his eyes closed for about a half minute, and then, upon opening them began speaking, as if a storyteller. As he spoke, he glanced in a rotating fashion to those who were listening, as if briefly addressing them personally and alone. "It began with Ravens." Merivel started. "I am a Maester in Clearwater, and one of my duties and perhaps future efforts at study is the care and use of ravens to send messages. It was sending a message to Holdfast, one day, that brought me into contact with my counterpart in Holdfast, a man named Rhys." "A correspondence began, back and forth, in the midst of our other duties." Merivel continued, slowly and carefully. "A friendship was born, even though it was at a long remove." Merivel continued. "Finally, and perhaps not in small part because of the illness of Lord Hardy, and my own small skill at healing, Rhys invited me formally to visit Holdfast." Merivel continued. "The journey to Holdfast was uneventful and for the most part, my stay at Holdfast was a pleasant one. I did make an error, however." Merivel paused and then finally continued. "I was quite frank to the Lady Hardy of my diagnosis and my thoughts about the prognosis of the recovery of her husband. I think that my frank words gave her reason to believe that I was a threat, or perhaps I knew more about the matter than even I had truly guessed." "The Lady Hardy was determined that my escort back to Clearwater, prompted by an urgent message that my services are needed there, would be small. I was immediately suspicious and it was the efforts of several good men that I had any additional escort whatsoever, or else I would not have survived even as long as I have." "We set out along the road, and the more untrustworthy of my escort began acting strangely. While I tried to head off any possibility of trouble, in the end, Trowen and Cleeve were clever, and with aid of an arriving cart of an additional ally, they killed Jonkers, as I watched, terrified, off the side of the road." "I fled on horseback, but eventually, knowing better the land than I do, the two caught up with me. I managed to draw off and I slew the former." his voice turns flat at that. "but the last I remember was squaring off against his partner. I knew aught else until I awoke to the ministrations of Tree and Leaf." "And that is my story." Merivel finished. Glade glanced at Tree, who had taken a seat beside Merivel. He nodded slowly. "That fits with what we observed," he said. He smiled suddenly. "And this is no milksop Maester! He killed the man who would have killed him - as neatly as you please." Glade nodded - and beckoned Leaf closer. She was carrying two small wooden cups that held a liquid that steamed - and smelled fragrantly of mint and other clean herbs. Merivel recognised it as a healing drink he used himself. One she handed to Glade - the other to Merivel. Merivel took a sniff of the drink, first in slight wariness, but then again, and smiling and nodding slightly in clear recognition. "Drink - in fellowship," Glade said. "And then, if you wish, you may rest here in safety for a while." Merivel took the cup in both hands and took a small sip of it. Lowering it, he nodded again. "Thank you. As I told Leaf and Tree before coming to this place, there is one extra part of the story that, with the blow to my head and the chaos, I had forgotten. And in truth I do not know if anything will come of it." "My fellow Maester gave me a raven to carry with me when I left Holdfast, to be released when I got back to Clearwater safely." Merivel said. He paused, took another small sip of the draught and then continued. "I released it when it became clear of the danger that I was in. It is my hope that he will take it as a sign that I am in danger, but it occurs to me, with the Lady Hardy's actions against me, as well as another noble house poking around Holdfast, that they might not have the resources to come find me." "Still, its a possibility they will be looking for me." Merivel finished, and then went to nursing the small cup of liquid once more. Glade glanced at Tree, who nodded. "With dogs," he said grimly. Glade shook her head. "Maester, your friends, if they come seeking you, might be more dangerous than your enemies - at least to us." Merivel soberly looked down at his cup for a few moments. "I don't believe that they would mean you harm, not intentionally. I honestly don't think that they would use dogs to hunt me, though." He looked up at his rescuers. "That would draw attention, and any rescue of me would have to be somewhat lower key than that." "Dogs might be a sign of foes, not my friends." "Dogs," said Glade drily, "will most certainly be a sign of our foes." She sighed, and rubbed a hand over her forehead. "Maester - I am sorry. It is my wish to bring you healing, and to see you safe. But I cannot do that and secure our own safety - unless you let me take you with us into the North." "The North?" Merivel repeated Glade's last words in a disbelieving tone. "I wish I could go see the North." he admitted. "But not only do I have concerns with Holdfast, but I have a duty to Clearwater, to where I must return." Merivel shook his head, took a sip of the healing drink, and shook his head again. "I cannot accompany you, even if my curiosity is so piqued." "But it will be dangerous for you to stay," said Glade. "We suggested Marshend," said Tree. Glade considered. "Aye," she said. "Ayes, that will do. Can you be ready to travel a greater distance, Maester?" "I will have to." Merivel said, finishing the remainder of his cup. "If I am to live, and to thrive, I will have to make the journey to Marshend, ready or no." "I've come too far to lie down like...a dog." Merivel said with a trace of a smile. "I am sorry." Merivel lowered his head respectfully. "if my presence is unduly splitting the two of you apart." he said to Tree and Leaf. She nodded. "Then Tree will go with you," she said. "And Leaf?" asked Tree - there seemed to be a note of hope in his voice. But Glade shook her head. "No. Leaf must stay here - or at least, she must come away with me and Bough to Five Ashes." Tree nodded, disappointment clear in his face. Glade reached out at laid a hand on his arm. "Mat Oldson will be forgiving, you know." "I am sorry." Merivel lowered his head respectfully. "if my presence is unduly splitting the two of you apart." he said to Tree and Leaf. "No," said Glade. "No - this will be for the best - although young eyes do not always see it so. Go and ready yourself, Tree. Leaf can go with you." The pair took themselves off to a distance - and seemed to be byusying themselves at what appeared to be a hollow tree on the far side of the clearing. Glade glanced at Merivel. "If you have any questions for me," she said mildly, "now would be a good time to ask them." Merivel smiled. "I am a Maester." he began. "Questions and answers *are* my business. I only wish I had seven times seven days of unlimited time to ask you what I wish to do so." he began. "I've made some guesses, though, so my first question is going to be based on that." "You and your friends, you're from beyond the Wall, or near to it in the mostly unsettled regions thereabout, aren't you?" Merivel began. "You and your friends, you're from beyond the Wall, or near to it in the mostly unsettled regions thereabout, aren't you?" Merivel began. Glade hesitated. "My story is a little more complicated than that." she said at last. "I was born a nobleman's daughter. My brother - my closest brother, in age and temperament - was chosen by our father to go to the Wall. I was permitted to go with him, to say farewell. A long journey, and dangerous, although I did not realise until we had parted. Then, on our way back, our party was attacked. Many were killed, but the young women, myself among them, were taken as prisoners. As ... rewards for victorious warriors." Merivel's mouth opened and closed slightly as Glade related her story. "I...am sorry. I didn't realize you were not born to the people that you band with." Merivel looked down at the empty cup of his healing draught, slightly shamed. Glade smiled. "I have been with my people for forty years now - most of my life. It is not strange that you should see me as part of them." Her smile grew. "Especially as you have met me with my grandchildren. I wanted to show them something of ... another life. But we are not safe here - as you can guess." "Your very existence here is secret." Merivel nodded. "Certainly, I did not know of your, ah, adopted people down here." he admitted. "I do not wish to have my rescue paid in the coin of discovery and death." "I will endeavor not to slow their passage and as I promised your grandchildren before, will keep the secret of my rescuers." Merivel said, straightening his back. "Thank you," said Glade, even as Tree approached them his face set and determined. "Are you ready to go, Maester?" he asked. Merivel placed the cup on the ground and nodded. "It's perhaps better that I do not eat the food and subsist simply on the healing draught." he said and then rose from where he had been sitting. "I'm ready to travel." Tree led them out of the clearing by a different route. He seemed to be moving steadily in one direction, seemingly deeper and deeper into the forest. For some twenty minutes they moved steadily, and at a pace quick enough to tap Merivel's strength. Merivel huffed and puffed as he followed his strange rescuers. Refusing to give in, he was red faced by the time they finally stopped, those twenty minutes later. At the end of that time, they came to a low broad stream, bisecting the forest. "They'll guess we'll wade it," said Tree, "but it has to be done. It won't confuse the dogs forever, but it might slow them for a while. Can you wade for a while? The water's cold, I'll grant, but it will be our surest protection." Merivel put his hand against a tree and panted. "Just give me a minute." he said. "The cold water might do me good after the exertion in any event." he added, trying on a smile and not quite succeeding. He waited a minute and then let go of the tree and nodded warily to Tree. "Into the water. Put me in the middle of the group in case I falter." Tree grinned. "With only two of us, that might be difficult," he said. "Don't worry, Maester, we'll stay together." Merivel turned behind. "And here I thought we were being shadowed quietly by another of your group." Merivel said. "Out of my sight." Tree looked thoughtfully at the river. "Upstream would be best," he said. "But that's the way they'll look first. So it's downstream we'll go. Be careful, though. The rock underfoot getting very slippery. Can you gird your roibes up to your knees, so they don't get wet? They'll slow you in you leave them free." He looked at Merivel a little doubtfully. "Or perhaps you should carry them, if you can." "The robes are a little cumbersome to carry." Merivel said, and he looked down at his clothes. He bent down and with some effort, lifted the hem of the robes and tightened them so that they only reached to his knees. "This will have to do." Merivel said. "We can go slowly, yes?" Tree looked concerned. "Not too slow, Maester. They could be close behind." He stepped into the stream himself, and winced at the coldness before he held out a hand to Merivel. "It'll be warmer once we're moving," he said, with more hope than sincerity. Merivel nodded and set his teeth against the immersion, and took the hand that Tree offered him. And the water was icy, like daggers jabbed into his feet and calves. But Tree was actually right, it did become a little easier as they moved forward - although it was all too easy to slip on the rounded pebbles in the bottom of the stream. And it was even more exhausting than the walk through the woods had been, for they had to fight the current to stay upright. Merivel winced, and groaned slightly with each step in the cold, heavy water. His face became a rictus of discomfort, coldness, and pain as he forced himself upstream against the current, desperately trying to keep up with Tree. He began closing his eyes at brief intervals, steeling himself against the sapping feel of the icy water. When he felt that he wasn't going to take much more of it, Merivel did not hesitate, but gasped aloud. "I need to finish crossing and get out of the water." Tree looked back at him in concern. "We're too close, really," he said. He looked at the banks, which were high just here. "Just another little walk - it will see us to somewhere where it's safe to come ashore," he urged. Merivel glanced at the far bank and winced when he saw how high they were. He looked at them another long moment, and then looked at Tree, and then down at the river they were fording. "Another little walk. I won't let the river finish me." Merivel said wearily. He began counting steps as he tried to trudge along, tried to follow Tree as best as he could. "One. Two. Three..." It took a further quarter hour by the clock before the banks were low enough for them to climb safely ashore. Tree went first, offering an arm to Merivel to help him step ashore. Merivel finally stopped counting once he was free of the freezing water. The Maester from the Vale of Arryn shivered on the riverbank, his back to the river that had chilled him to the bone. "I know it will be hard," he said, "but try not to leave too many marks on the back if you can." Merivel nodded, stepping gingerly and carefully. Once he was ashore, he hurried the Maester under the shlter of the trees. "We're close to an old skyway here," he said. "Can you climb?" "If I can survive that river..." Merivel began, and then regarded Tree. "What is a skyway?" "Paths through the trees, above the ground," explianed Tree - as though this were the most commonplace thing. He looked worriedly at Merivel. "We won't go far," he said. "Just to the nearest Nest, where you can rest." He was looking about as he spoke. Merivel shivered and shook himself a little more of the cold water permeating his robes and his skin. He looked upwards as if trying to will himself to see the skyway that Tree spoke of. "It's too bad I've been sworn to secrecy. I don't know of anyone who has even heard of the lore which you are sharing with me..." Merivel began and then stopped as he noticed Tree's reactions. "What are you looking for?" Merivel asked. "The place to climb upwards? Are there signs to indicate where a climb up to the skyway might lie?" "Yes," said Tree, and then he smiled. "Although, Maester, I'd prefer not to teach them to you." His face suddenly lightened, and he made a dart for one particularly mossy oak. "Wait there, Maester," he said - and then he caught holding of a low branch and drew himself up into the foliage. After that there was a brief rustling and then silence. Merivel might almost have been alone in the forest ... Merivel couldn't resist. Although he remained precisely where he was, Merivel stared and studied the tree that Tree had chosen, seeing what was different about it from the others. He bent his perceptions and his training to studying the tree from his vantage point. After a while he found a mark - some strange sigil cut into the back at a height where a man would not usually look - well above his head. Merivel silently committed it to memory, trying not to smile as he did so. After a few minutes there was a soft thump in the grass under the tree as a knotted rope end dropped onto the grass, the other end still attached to the tree. A slightly louder thump announced Tree's return to earth. "You can climb if you like," said Tree, "but I thought it would be best if I fastened you a harness - then you can use your good arm and my help up to the skyway." "My father would be ashamed of me for not climbing by myself." Merivel said with a smile. "But after all of the tribulations I have been through, I will take the harness and not be overly bull headed." "Let's put together the harness." Merivel urged Tree. "Please." The harness took but a few minutes to attach. "This will not lift you to the skyway itself," warned Tree. "It will just help you to climb, and support you if you slip." So saying, he leapt for the brach again and was rapidly out of sight. After a few minutes, Merivel felt a tug on the harness, sufficient to lift him off the ground to a point where he could grab the lowest branch with his good arm. Merivel waited as the harness lifted him upward, waiting patiently as the branch drew nearer and when his upward ascent stopped. he leaned forward and grabbed the branch with his free and healthy arm. Holding onto the branch as securely as he could, Merivel cast his eyes upward to Tree, and the promised Skyway. Merivel gingerly moved his hurt arm to aid in holding the branch, and held his good arm for Tree to give him a boost upwards. Tree, who was seated on the self same branch, drew him up to sit on it too. Then, with a grin, he started to climb higher ... Merivel carefully used Tree's help to go branch, by branch, ascending into the tree. At each one, Merivel checked his arm, checked his balance and made sure that he wasn't going to slip and fall. For some time they proceeded this way - until Merivel suddenly realised that he was seated not on a branch but rather a woven mat of reeds. All around there were ropes - presumably to guide those who walked along one branch - and then jumped to another branch on another tree altogether. Here and there, he realised, there were actual bridges linking trees together ... Merivel rose a little bit from his seated position, and cast his eyes to and fro as they began to resolve and his brain began to comprehend just what he was seeing. Not a Kingsroad on the ground, but bridges, mats and ropes forming a path here, at a dizzying height in the trees. A Skyway... Merivel just sat there in wonder for a few moments, and looked up at Tree once he realized he was delaying over long. "There are more things in the world than I have ever dreamnt in my dreams." Merivel said softly. Tree grinned. "This is one of the old ways," he said. "Once there were many more ... but they've been lost over the years." His face grew more serious. If the Hardies know, they would destroy any skyway on their lands. Merivel nodded. "I just hope I don't fall off." Merivel found himself propping against the tree as much as he could, to give him as much support as possible. Tree, smiling again, came over and showed him how to attach a rope harness to the trunk so that he could sleep secure. "Sleep now. We will be safe here - and in the morning we'll move on to the Kingsroad." "Thank you." Merivel said with a nod and a smile, and he soon closed his eyes, wondering if, given his wounds and the strenuous nature of the last couple of days, if he would dream. -- Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs, CastleHoldfast |
