Here it comes. "Why did you hunt a fur back?"
"Cause I did." Merrin shrugged.
Leim clenched. "And you took saiden's and eidan?"
"Yes, I did."
"Why?"
Is he stupid? Merrin cringed. "I took them to hunt the fur back."
"And they could have died."
"Ashmen die all the time. The soot welcomes all. Besides, I can't possibly die. My purpose still exists."
"WHAT MISTING PURPOSE!" Leim banged the wall, and the sound echoed like weak thunder. He panted. Merrin enjoyed it. "Do you know what could have happened? Saitan could have been filled with fur backs. A horde. That is death."
"And yet," Merrin leaned, "It was not, because the almighty willed it so."
"Mist this!" Leim jerked to the side. "The almighty does not know you. You are a fool claiming nothing."
This rattled within. "I claim nothing, I own everything. The shamans said so. I was born with the eyes. I see the darkness."
"Just like any ashman."
"I can see far away."
"Something time, inevitably, impacts to all."
Merrin winced. Rage came now to him, odd, Leim was the one meant for it. "I am chosen, you can simply cleanse your pride and see it. I surpass you. I am better. The almighty has blessed me with a glorious purpose."
"And that is?" Leim lined his lips. A stupid thing he did when the awareness of correctness lorded within.
Merrin startled. "The almighty knows these things. Soon, you will see it too."
"I will see the thing that does not exist?" He passed a certain gaze. Demeaning. Like a man to a child. This angered something internal.
"What do you know? So mundane. " Merrin spat, "What are you really, just another imitation of the perfect ashman. You, however, do it wrong. You know nothing. You see greatness and you mock it. You see me and you mock it."
Leim seethed. "Greatness? You hunt with children just to make the point that you are better."
"I am,"
"You are not." Leim said, "You are a child. A stupid child insisting on titles that cannot be yours. Pride is your enemy!"
He gritted and knew the ire, moments from explosion. No no, i need him to see it. I need him to see my significance. He must follow me to Aman. Merrin took up ashman conditioning—breath through the nose and out the mouth. This brought a certain calmness, enough at least for the needed outcome.
He was to speak, "I'm sor—" Again, he saw the emergence of fabricated bizarreness. The hall lengthened from the oval corridor, blurred. Shapes, distant light, flowing mist. Things of unknown variation. And in the distance, a strangeness as the hall turned indiscernible. Just then, a castle, dark, a figure before it turned. Two eyes, black, stared back. Fear came.
"I'm so tired of your nonsense!" The scene vanished and the wall grew in its standard opaqueness. Merrin turned and beheld Leim. He said, "I heard you plan on take more young ashmen to Aman."
"Yes." Why does he know? Mist this!
Leim sighed. "That is not happening!"
"What?" Merrin startled. "No, you can't do that." He edged closer.
"I can and I have." Leim said, "Soon, the valor clan would ask for their protection tithe. We need eltium or oredite from Aman. I and others would go, you will stay."
How dare he? Merrin grabbed his clothes. "I will not allow this. You cannot do this. The almighty will curse you for this."
The world spun, and his face smashed into the earth. A knee pressed him down, Leim over him shouting. "Mist you! You are doing nothing. You stay here, this are my words. If you dare come, i will take your stoneknife from you."
An act of disgrace, Merrin recognized. To take one's stoneknife was only accepted in death, not in life. To lose it meant he was forsaken by the land—by the ash. He would cease to be an ashman.
"You would do that?"
"Yes."
"Mist you!"
According to the oral and written history, the Ashmen were only a recent addition to the theocracy. Strange, yes. But one would wonder the might of these mountain climbers if they fell last after the greatest and mightiest of clans—author unknown.
Merrin seethed within—rage. He mumbled threats, pacing on the lip of a hill. The rain now was a quick drizzle, barely rinsing the ash from skin. The steam, a thing of absoluteness, rose, slithering to the dark skies. He urged calmness, breathing. Failure in all. The enmity felt like a roaring fire—destructive, unstoppable. How dare he say that? How dare Leim!
Take my knife? stops me from going to Aman…."THAT WAS MY MISTING IDEA!" His voice merged with the flash of lightning. Booming out. Then silence. A brief one as the pittar pattar returned. He heaved a warm breath in the wetting clamour. And some measure of serenity flowed internally. Yet, the rage, that boiling anger burned. Mist Leim! He punched the air—a stupid gesture. No one was hurt from that. And how much he wanted to harm leim. Here, staring out in the dark distance, nothing was achieved.
What if i still went to Aman? Merrin thought the danger told of the mountain. Fallen, supposedly had been scouted. A great conjecture, of course, but….what if? Leim would fail if a fallen was there. He was the one meant for it. A test given to him by the Almighty. Not to Leim.
Fist clenched. "Ahhhh!"
A voice came. No preceding steps. Who? "You plan on going there, don't you?"
Merrin turned to the sound, a figure, slender, a true willowy statue. An ashman—woman. She bore an audacious face, sharp eyes. A certain air to her. She walked in slow motions, observing. Like before, only now his mind drew this with a specific significance. Is she courting me? It seemed a joke. Yet, that was what she did. Strange. He offered a smile despite the internal turmoil.
She returned a slight one—less genuine than expected from one who sought to woe him. Would she succeed? The thought intrigued. She stepped forward, rested hands on her waist, and said, "Well? You plan on going there anyway,"
How does she know? He soothed the notion and picked another. What is she doing here? That too brought no ponderable ideation. He cocked his head, feinging ignorance. Would that work?
She smiled.
It didn't.
"You don't have to say anything, but I know that's what you are thinking." She said, "Be smart, don't!"
Merrin frowned.
"Think about it, best case, you lose your stoneknife and can no longer be considered an ashman, or you die to whatever is there. Aman is a dangerous place."
"And how would you know?" Merrin needed to grasp her knowledge.
She said with a shurg. "My father is a Hashar, he knows this things and by extension, so do i."
Merrin's internal self jerked at this. Hashar—a scouter. Not just any. A leader amongst them. Now, he understood her pride. Not for her proficiencies, a little perhaps, but most for her lineage. She was the daughter of a Hashar. That said something. He observed the smile, pride in her being at the realization that he knew her now. She wanted this. An attempt to level him. A faulty expectation.
Merrin smiled, "Your father must be allowed to tell you these things."
She trembled at the words. A flash expression as she again offered the small leer. "You play the words well."
"I understand the words well," Of course I do, I am chosen.
"But as I said, going there is death. Death is the final outcome once you lose your ash."
"Many survive."
"So you would prefer to go the great clans?" She said, face, one of deep askance. "That is rather strange, i expected something else. But to surrender…Strange."
Merrin came to full alert. "Surrender? This is just speculation. I never had any will to leave the mountains or lose my ash. No, I simply entertained your flow of thought."
"My flow of thought?" She laughed—another brief exhibition. She walked past him, standing at the outer point of the peak, overlooking the world. "Entertain all you want, that would be good, someday."
She presses in with the courting. Merrin remained rooted, not approaching. "But i know the stupdity in what he does. He might just well be cursing himself with that action."
"Cursing?"
"Yes," Merrin said, "Aman is my test from the almighty. Someone else going to it is just stupid."
"I see." Doubt laced her voice, and Merrin observed this. She said, "But didn't you also plan to have him along to Aman?"
"If the blessed are among, then the journey becomes less perilous. This is the way with prophets and the chosen."
She chuckled. "Chosen—a bold thing to say. Why not settle for chiefShaman? That's not a bad outcome."
Merrin rebuffed with a wave. "Perhaps, but no, I am meant for more, not just to be a chiefShaman."
She turned and looked to him. "Whoever told you that?" A white streak flashed behind her. Brilliant.
Merrin chortled. "I know because I do."
"Some would call that pride."