#merek flint

[finalatomicbuster]

Merek Flint for Zeus Magazine (1982)

[toliiberatearchive-blog]

✂ — a vivid memory (Nohemi), ☽ — a memory of their father (Marian)

[cats voice] MEMORYYYYYY | accepting

merek had the nicest smile she had everseen. she could listen to him talk for hours;sometimes, she actually did. he was theonly person she knew who didn’t treat herlike some filthy street rat; even her own kinsometimes did.

his lips tasted as sweet as his smile everdid. they were behind the shop he was ap-prenticed at; she wasn’t supposed to beout of dust town, but that made it all the mo-re fun. he held her face and kissed her andswallowed her laughs and she thought, so-meday, she could marry this boy. she could,if he wanted to.

(a week later, he told her that he was forbid-den from seeing her. she didn’t argue.)

she remembers his face the first time a sparkdanced at her fingertips. it was an odd comb-ination of delight and fear, making her a littleuneasy. she had seen her father do it before;make the snow dance, start a fire without flint.had she done something wrong?

leandra had screamed. told him that they hadto leave, what if someone saw, marian couldn’tcontrol herself like he could. malcolm just heldher until she calmed. he would teach her, hesaid. he would show her how to do it. explainthe rules. no one would know.

[outernerd-blog]

Peaceful Intentions Part 2

In the waning twilight, while the others gathered wood, Vincey used flint and steel to ignite a piece of char cloth. He soon had a decent sized fire burning and both parties gathered around to eat their rations. Merek prepared a cup of honey tea to sooth his throat and sat down between the two leaders so he could continue to translate. 

"What position do you hold in your army?" Letholdus asked before tearing off a piece of field bread. Merek put down his cup and translated.

"Tor is my rank," the Troxs responded, "It is much like the position you call lieutenant." After Merek translated he continued, "I was once a common soldier and a... sergeant like you."

"Where is your platoon?" Letholdus quickly asked. 

When Merek finished translating the question, Tor Jinn lightly waved his hand through the air, "They watch from afar. I thought it better only Kowal and myself meet with you."

As he translated the reply, Merek saw trepidation on Letholdus's face. The Sergeant's eyes noticeably scanned the darkness beyond the firelight. He's worried, Merek thought.

Letholdus turned the conversation back to the primary reason for their meeting, "The Council wants to open negotiations with Troxs. They sent us to make sure it's safe to send soft skinned delegates. They want peace and trade that benefits both our peoples." 

As he translated, Merek saw Tor Jinn's expression harden. The Troxs straightened his shoulders and seemed to consider his words. After a moment, he leaned in and spoke. His response was slow and measured, but even Letholdus could hear the weight in his words.

Suppressing a coughing fit, Merek drained his cup, while Tor Jinn spoke. He wiped his nose and mouth on his sleeve and translated, "We both know it will be the same as it's been in the past. Peace is only possible if there is no contact between our peoples." While he spoke, Merek noticed the two Troxs staring at him before silently exchanging a glance with one another.

Growing frustrated Letholdus responded, "It might work, and it might not, but it was a long time ago that our great grandfathers fought and killed each other. It doesn't have to be that way. We can have peace if our leaders choose it." 

Tor Jinn was silent for a moment, "Short lived human, for my people less than a generation has passed. Kowal and I were among the Troxs who fought your great grandfathers. We defeated countless of them on the battlefield." He paused to give time for Merek to translate.

"And when we returned home, the death you brought us was unconscionable. Thousands of our innocent women and children gone. My wife and son..."

Merek unable to suppress his cough any longer, began hacking uncontrollably. He reached for his water skin, but realized it was empty. Jumping to his feet, he barked, “I’m sorry...need water." He quickly stumbled away, continuing to cough as he went. All he cared about at the movement was getting to the creek, hoping a drink of the cool water would help. 

"Merek tell me what he said first!" Letholdus yelled, grabbing the empty water skin and running after the man.

With all eyes following the departing translator, no one noticed Tor Jinn faintly nod to Kowal, and none of them were prepared for what happened next. 

Kowal stood up and, hurling his spear over the campfire, impaled Vincey through the chest. Then pulling his axe from its sheath, he turned towards Otis and began hacking at the man's head and neck as he tried to stand. 

Simultaneously, Tor Jinn's spear found its mark in Dudic's chest. Dying instantly where he sat, the man never even knew the fight had started. 

Letholdus turned at the sound of battle, drew his sword. and started running back, screaming at the top of his lungs, "To arms! To arms!" He was already too late. Axe in hand, Tor Jinn advanced to meet him, and the two were soon circling each other, trading blows and trying to find an opening in each other's defense.

"It would come to this," Letholdus said to himself, under the weight of another strike. He pushed back and closed the distance between the two, trying to negate the Troxs's longer reach. Grim resolve on his face; he betrayed no emotion. 

At the edge of the firelight, Tyon drew his bow and fired an arrow into Kowal's vulnerable back. Its penetration diminished by the leather armor, still caused him to scream in pain. He turned from the bloody corpse that had been Otis and advanced on the archer. Tyon fired arrow after arrow to no avail. The Troxs swatted each aside with his axe as if they were nothing. Dropping his bow, Tyon attempted to pull his sword from its sheath, but he was no match for Kowal. His broken and hacked body soon joined those of his friends on the ground.

Letholdus was a skilled warrior, but he was no match for the massive Troxs. Every time he tried to go on the offense, his sword was met with Tor Jinn's axe. Neither opponent spoke, each knowing they couldn't understand each other anyway; they continued the fight in silence. 

Blocking another strike, Letholdus was only fighting defensively now. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kowal waiting patiently for Tor Jinn to kill him. The Troxs pressed the attack with controlled violence. As the blows fell, his sword was knocked from his hand, and Letholdus stumbled to the ground. He was reaching for the dagger in his belt when Tor Jinn's axe crashed through his skull.

Lying down at the creek bank, Merek drank the cool water heavily. It felt good on his throat, but he knew he needed to get back to camp soon. Letholdus would be angry at him for leaving, and the sooner the talk was finished the better. 

He put his hands to the ground to push himself up just as the spear pierced his back. For a split second he was unsure what was happening. Then the intense pain paralyzed him. Tor Jinn pushed the spear head through, pinning him to the ground like an insect. His eyes bulged, and Merek the speaker of six languages gave a final whimper as the last breath passed from his lips.

After a short time, Tor Jinn pulled his spear from Merek's back. He shook his head, and silently stared down at the body. 

"They will send more," Kowal said from behind him.

Tor Jinn allowed a moment of silence to pass before he responded, "Humans. Their short lives are a fraction of ours. We are faster and stronger. Yet the coughing illness they bring, kills our people as sure as any blade. You are correct my young friend. They will come again, and we will kill all of them to keep our people safe."

Kowal started to turn away, when Tor Jinn suddenly coughed. It was a soft cough, but it was unmistakable. It was the human's cough. The two Troxs stood in silence for a moment. 

"No," Kowal whispered to himself. 

Tor Jinn's body shook as he coughed again. "You know what must be done," he said without turning.

[finalatomicbuster]

Merek Flint for Zeus Magazine (1982)