Read Online Merek's Ascendance by Andrew Lashway - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew Lashway
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and so he was more chopping at it.
Merek firmly decided that there had to be an easier route. Namely, he needed a sharper tool. He scoured every creek and river bed he could, hunting for a sharper stone. Eventually he found one that had an edge as sharp as a knife.
And he finally had some good fortune. After the find, skinning animals was much easier. Catching them was still just as difficult and he was a terrible skinner, but he had nothing but time in which to get marginall y better. He knew he’d never be any good at it, but at least he’d be good enough to live on.
About a week and a half into his exile was when the winds came.
The rain was bad, certainly. The lightning, equally if not more so. But neither really compared to the winds. Merek was trying to master skinning a squirrel when he heard the sound of rushing air. Looking up, he could see the trees shake as if under attack.
A single moment later, as a rock whipped past his head fast enough to cause a resounding thunk off of the tree it struck, Merek realized why. Every instinct in his brain told him to run, and it was lucky he didn’t hesitate to listen. Leaving the dead animal where it lay, he gathered up his staff and coat and bolted away from the furious wind.
Try as he might, there was no outrunning nature.
He made it to the relative safety of a stream when the gale hit him. It was like being hit with an icy wall of untouchable water, the way it chilled him to his core and knocked him sideways by the pure force of its being. He headed for a waterfall, seeking shelter around the waves. But fleeing from the gale, he had made a serious error.
He had backed himself into a corner with nowhere to run.
Then the stones started flying.
At first he tried to block them with his hands and arms, but the pain was intense, and he was sure he would have bruises if not welts for days to come. Instead, he turned to his staff. Not many stones flew, but the ones that came at him he raised his staff to deflect. He caught about half of them on average, sending them in different directions. The ones he missed he either dodged away from or they hit him, causing him to wince in pain. He refused to cry out, no matter how hard they struck him. Even though no one would hear him, he wouldn’t give anyone or anything the satisfaction.
But his resolve nearly failed under the weight of so many blows. The wind wasn’t strong enough to lift truly heavy stones, but it tossed around small ones like snowflakes.
It felt like days before the rushing wind simply disappeared. As soon as the wind found him, it was gone.
He sunk to his knees, breath little more than a memory, as he felt trickles of blood run down his face.
“Okay,” he said, “we need to find actual, permanent shelter. Something sturdy. Now.”
And that’s exactly what he did.
It took him over two days of nonstop searching, but eventually he found exactly what he was looking for. About halfway up a tall rocky hill there was a cave composed entirely of stone. It wasn’t more than thirty feet deep, and it was about ten feet tall on the inside. The mouth of the cave was only about four feet tall and as many feet wide, making it easy to overlook.
It was just what he wanted.
“Perfect,” Merek said as he examined it. He could stockpile wood in there, and it being stone inside and out would make it difficult for anything to get inside it.
“I think I found myself a home,” he laughed. Now all he had to do was occupy it.
He put the cave’s location to memory, memorizing the surrounding area and never venturing very far unless he was sure he could find his way back. He didn’t want to mark anything, lest someone else see it and figure out where he was. Though Merek hadn’t seen another human being in weeks, he was always worried that his peace would be shattered.
“So the first thing I need is cover. I need to hide the entrance,” Merek said, pacing back and forth in his new home. He had already dragged up
Merek firmly decided that there had to be an easier route. Namely, he needed a sharper tool. He scoured every creek and river bed he could, hunting for a sharper stone. Eventually he found one that had an edge as sharp as a knife.
And he finally had some good fortune. After the find, skinning animals was much easier. Catching them was still just as difficult and he was a terrible skinner, but he had nothing but time in which to get marginall y better. He knew he’d never be any good at it, but at least he’d be good enough to live on.
About a week and a half into his exile was when the winds came.
The rain was bad, certainly. The lightning, equally if not more so. But neither really compared to the winds. Merek was trying to master skinning a squirrel when he heard the sound of rushing air. Looking up, he could see the trees shake as if under attack.
A single moment later, as a rock whipped past his head fast enough to cause a resounding thunk off of the tree it struck, Merek realized why. Every instinct in his brain told him to run, and it was lucky he didn’t hesitate to listen. Leaving the dead animal where it lay, he gathered up his staff and coat and bolted away from the furious wind.
Try as he might, there was no outrunning nature.
He made it to the relative safety of a stream when the gale hit him. It was like being hit with an icy wall of untouchable water, the way it chilled him to his core and knocked him sideways by the pure force of its being. He headed for a waterfall, seeking shelter around the waves. But fleeing from the gale, he had made a serious error.
He had backed himself into a corner with nowhere to run.
Then the stones started flying.
At first he tried to block them with his hands and arms, but the pain was intense, and he was sure he would have bruises if not welts for days to come. Instead, he turned to his staff. Not many stones flew, but the ones that came at him he raised his staff to deflect. He caught about half of them on average, sending them in different directions. The ones he missed he either dodged away from or they hit him, causing him to wince in pain. He refused to cry out, no matter how hard they struck him. Even though no one would hear him, he wouldn’t give anyone or anything the satisfaction.
But his resolve nearly failed under the weight of so many blows. The wind wasn’t strong enough to lift truly heavy stones, but it tossed around small ones like snowflakes.
It felt like days before the rushing wind simply disappeared. As soon as the wind found him, it was gone.
He sunk to his knees, breath little more than a memory, as he felt trickles of blood run down his face.
“Okay,” he said, “we need to find actual, permanent shelter. Something sturdy. Now.”
And that’s exactly what he did.
It took him over two days of nonstop searching, but eventually he found exactly what he was looking for. About halfway up a tall rocky hill there was a cave composed entirely of stone. It wasn’t more than thirty feet deep, and it was about ten feet tall on the inside. The mouth of the cave was only about four feet tall and as many feet wide, making it easy to overlook.
It was just what he wanted.
“Perfect,” Merek said as he examined it. He could stockpile wood in there, and it being stone inside and out would make it difficult for anything to get inside it.
“I think I found myself a home,” he laughed. Now all he had to do was occupy it.
He put the cave’s location to memory, memorizing the surrounding area and never venturing very far unless he was sure he could find his way back. He didn’t want to mark anything, lest someone else see it and figure out where he was. Though Merek hadn’t seen another human being in weeks, he was always worried that his peace would be shattered.
“So the first thing I need is cover. I need to hide the entrance,” Merek said, pacing back and forth in his new home. He had already dragged up
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