Underestimate Me

Merek sat with the latest tavern wench he could romance out of the bar for a few hours. This girl, her name he could not remember for the moment, was not as fun as the last. Her coppery curls and come hither smile made her a perfect candidate for Merek’s newest ventures since the creature he really wanted to spend time with had to spend more time with her betrothed. Wretched man could not gain weight with the eldest sister, so he through his coins around for the youngest. It made him sick to his stomach, and he could not enjoy the coppery curls or the come hither smile before him.

The youngest son of Elrik was about to tell his companion to go back to where she belonged when the clinks and clanks of iron clad armor filled his ears. He turned his vision to the road toward the dark forest, the same road on which he bid adieu to his beloved brother. For a moment, he believed his sharp, crystal blue eyes deceived him. One of the men sent into the forest with his brother half ran half hobbled down the road toward Merek. Their eyes met briefly, but the boy could see the man experienced something wicked.

“Son of Elrik,” the man shouted. Merek shooed the wench back to her place before he ran to the heavy breathing man whom he recognized as a mere foot soldier named Branden.

“Tell me, Branden!” He ordered the man. “What news have you?”

“Sir Rowen has been captured by the rebels.” Branden spoke breathy words until he accommodated his lungs. “You will never believe the things we saw!”

“Nay, my brother cannot be captured.” Merek laughed as if he heard an amusing joke, but his laughter quickly ceased when not even a small smirk graced the foot soldier’s lips.

“Tis true. They all wore hoods and veils. We saw nothing more than their eyes, and they came from the trees. Arrows sailed from the heavens; Rowen was hit twice, but he would not stop fighting. Even when one wretch flew down on his back like a banshee, he waved his sword above his head in hopes of killing the beast, but nay, he had no luck. I knocked her off. I swear by Balor, I knocked the banshee off my leader’s shoulders and watched him put his blade through her.”

“So his capture was diverted? Why did you run all this way, bloodied from battle, to speak of such a stupid thing as an ineffective capture?” Merek could feel the blood boil in his veins. Something about Branden’s story was true, but it could not be Rowen’s capture. His father would have the boy’s head for fear of it being in charge of his region, along with the heads of those who harmed his favorite son out of pure rage.

“Young Sir, please! I speak the truth. A woman who wielded a sword better than any man I ever saw, hell all of the women wielded their weapons as well as any man, went after your brother. The woman had him on his knees, with his right arm so severely wounded, in less time that I ever witnessed him go down and her blade at his throat. Their leader, another woman covered from head to toe, screamed. She stopped the madness of Sir Rowen’s murder before it could begin.”

Merek’s eyes widened in astonishment. A mere woman bested his brother’s sword? He could not believe this blasphemy. Wound or no wound, his brother would not be bested by woman nor man. “You say women? All these creatures you speak of, all these rebels, are they women?”

“Aye, and they have taken Rowen!” Branden’s face filled with the relief of thinking someone believed him, but he was not believed.

“Come, dine and drink with me and then you shall tell my father your tale. Perhaps something can be done to bring Rowen home safely.”

“I shall not speak of his safety for the leader of the group of wretches had every man murdered on the battlefield save me and Sir Rowen. She sent me in this direction to tell of his capture. Maybe she is a smart woman and will return him after her ransom is met?”

The hope of met ransom soured Merek’s appetite. Elrik would not meet demands of murderous rebels; nay, he is the kind of man that will march his best soldiers into that wood and fetch his favorite son himself. Questions filled his mind about his brother’s keepers. The summer storm the morning before left everything sopping and brought fears of summer colds. He sent a silent prayer to which ever God took pity on his poor soul at the moment to keep his brother safe.

As he walked with the foot soldiers, Merek remembered his younger years. Rowen often showed him sword fighting tricks to help him when his father came to watch their practices. He remembered his eldest brother defending him when Elrik wanted nothing more than his blood. Merek wished his brother could comfort him now, but it was time he grew up. Rowen would not always be there to protect him, so today Merek had to protect his self.

~~~

The sun peaked through the trees sending little bursts of light to the ground. Rowen could not find sleep again after seeing her face. Josselyn could not be alive; his father never lied to him before, but she stood there in front of him accusing him of causing her pain. All the hatred he had for the murderous, evil leader of this rebel group turned from Josselyn to himself.

Those harsh thick lines of scars across the left side of her face destroyed all the faith he had in his father. Elrik must have told him she was deceased after he dropped her body off in the dense forest. Had he known…no, he doubted she would have let him care for her then as she doubted him now. What had they told her during that onslaught of pain?

Evelyn continued her speeches; she agreed to watch him through the morning while the others tried to get things in order. In order for what, he did not know. Laila left him as soon as she was sure his wounds were properly bandaged, and she left his armor lying in front of him. Rowen’s hidden pains began to burn. He began to wonder if she was right about him…

I am nothing more than my father’s son…The son of Elrik the Evil.