"Hmm." Ron murmured. "Similar work even now." He chuckled, and Merrin clapped his back.
"No need."
Ron said nothing, only smiled. "This is for me."
There was fragility there. Wrong. It was bizarre to Merrin to see this things. Such purity turned into power. A creature of might. That was never Ron. He was… the light. Ron stood before the oval entry, his height beyond it. His arms were wide enough to vanish the door from view. But he remained still for a moment, and Merrin imagined the fear he felt. The terror of a good man as he was forced to bleed for others.
He is me.
Then, Ron grabbed the rim, and sizzling flooded into the chamber. Screams. His feet planted, and he pulled. Flesh was burning—the smell of roasted meat, mouth-watering, filled the space. Merrin was repulsed by his own reactions, but Ron cared nothing for it. Pulling. That was all he did now.
He was burning. He was screaming. His hands now became like Merrin's. All because of my witnesses… There was ice in Merrin's heart. He cursed his own weakness.
A creak sounded, and the door was busted off its hinges, slamming down as Ron jumped two steps back. The earth trembled at the collision, and many gawked at it. The Giant fell to his knees, hands quivering, smoke steaming off the bubbling red flesh. His palm was now a red, distorted thing; skin hung out the side, and bones were revealed in some fingers. Critical.
Catelyn moved past Ron, stepping into the darkness of the now-formed tunnel. "This is the path. We should go."
"A second!" Merrin snapped. "Someone bandage his arm."
The witnesses surged to his orders. Quickly, they wrapped both palms in cloth. Dirty rags, but cloth nonetheless. It was enough for now. Haste was needed. A cleanseWitch—healing. Merrin narrowed his eyes, the world blurring in hues of dark and brown, and tears resting within his eyes. He held them back.
"Are you okay?" His tone was calm, and this brought the wonder of Ron's thought. What if he thought him a wicked thing, incapable of feeling? So Merrin smiled. "Thank you."
Ron smiled back through the pain, sweat simmering down his face and neck. "Nothing done. Much to do."
I will never make you do that again.
A few minutes passed, and Catelyn seemed eager to move. He saw it now. This was her. This was who she was—a woman ready to do anything to survive. Anything at all. It hurt, but he thanked the almighty that his secret remained hidden from her.
Soon, Ron was ready to move. Merrin thought not, but the giant insisted. So they emptied into the tunnel. Dark stones greeting the passing men.
Like the other, the channel was old, impossibly old. Moreover, there was an air of patchiness in it. Odd wood rested on the side, like pillars holding up the cragcave roof. There were many of them—every three steps, there was one. And they were unburned. What wood didn't burn? He wondered if froststone was within it. It was a stupid thought, given their age; they should have been out of will. The other possibility was casted means. That was the prominent thought.
A need to confirm speak to him, but the pain vanished it. It was a miracle that he walked at all. Each step was torture, like flame coiling through his flesh and blood. He sought to scream, to cry, and to writhe. But if he were to cry, then they could not. So he didn't. He took each step, gritting his teeth, and took another.
The pain could have been worse—much worse. Most of it was buried in memories, hidden. If they were to surface, he would break. He would be unmade. Mist. What a tattered thing he would become then. Merrin shut his eyes, swallowed the moisture in his mouth, and watched the corridor.
Ron was ahead, helped by two witnesses—hooded men. They looked like walking sticks beside him. Black canes. Merrin considered what he seemed beside Ron. Compared to these, he was shorter. Lords, he was an impish creature.
A moment passed, and Davos somehow stood beside him. The sheepish creature was in dark rags, wrapped over skin. He was like a shadow of strength, and he moved sidely, silent.
Is he afraid of me? Merrin thought. It was a surface pondering, as the inner depth required the force effect, and now he resisted using any. Or the pain did. He asked anyway, "You are well?"
Davos jerked, a shrill escaping his mouth. "Wha— Wha— What?"
Merrin offered a calming smile. "Nothing. Just asking."
"Oh." He lowered his head—he was like a child.
Merrin stopped. Davos stirred. "What?"
"Nothing." Merrin said, "Just repeating something I shouldn't do."
"What?"
Merrin said nothing of it. "You're a slave."
Davos offered confusion. "We are all slaves."
This stunned Merrin for a moment. "Yes, yes." He said, "What about before?"
"Before?"
"Before you were a slave. You were something. Everyone is something before the servitude."
"Nothing." Davos shook his head.
A lie, but Merrin pressed not. That was not his secret—not his to know. "What were you here?"
Davos responded. "Nothing… I was nothing."
"That can't be possible."
Davos looked to him.
"I've walked on mountains and never once have I met someone who was nothing."
Davos was silent—but he smiled, just for a moment, and then it was gone. Now he looked away. Merrin thought him shy—embarrassed by the spoken words. He wondered whether to ask for another. "How about the leader?"
Now Davos stopped, his shoulders trembling, and he looked to Merrin. He said weakly, "Are you really some god?"
Mists!
Merrin felt empty within. What a question that was. Was he a god? How was one ever to answer that? He looked down at the crude stone floor, bumps of blackness littered with shards of the strange wood. He remembered a simpler time.
Wind on his face, rain drenched into skin. The taste of moisture and the warmth of mist. The thrill of cutting through the air, chain in hand, stoneknife in another. An easy existence.
Now this.
He held back a scoff. Am I a god? No. I'm not. Merrin wanted to scream his words. I AM NOT A GOD! I'M JUST A SLA— AN ASHMAN.
But.
A smile curled on him, and he said something that churned wrong within. "I have been many things. But now, I am new. Something old. Something simply impossible. I am called the sun. Light. I am your savior. Always and forever."
"Then why didn't you save my sisters?"
Merrin hardened his body and called upon that awesome power. Like a tide of water sliding through rocks, the mind flowed with a sudden strength. He thought. Ah, now he thinks.
"Why didn't you save her?" Merrin asked.
Davos's eyes were wide—mouth agape. Horror. "What?" He mouthed obscure words. "I wasn't there. I would have."
"But you didn't."
"You are the savior!" Davos shouted now, and this called attention to them.
"I… am… your… savior!"
"WHAT ABOUT THEM!"
Merrin felt the cold despite the warmth. To wrap himself, hide away from these eyes—that was the thing he craved. Not this. Not this forgery of an existence. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry out. He wanted to stop.
Yet, he drowned this man in guilt.
"Did they witness me?"
Davos stepped back. How easy it was to read a man.
"If you had kept them safe, then they would have seen me. Seen the light. But you failed to. You failed them. A thing of a coward."
Davos looked around. He was seeking shelter, but none delivered it. So he moved back, a wooden pillar behind him. "You know nothing. You know nothing of what I've gone through. You know NOTHING! False savior!"
"I—"
Davos tripped and fell into the pillar. A crack sounded, and it bent. Dust fell, and another snapping was heard overhead. Merrin turned sharply to all. "RU—"
Rocks descended from above, and darkness swallowed his world.
Slowly, his mind dripped with awareness. Aching awareness. He wanted to curl into nothing—to become nothing. Emptiness. The pain was hell. All burned. Everything was a wrongness of sensations. His legs were licked by fire, and his arms trembled as though caught in the cold.
He was sick. He was tired. He wanted to stop.
A scream struck into his awareness, and the world opened to him. Chaos was all over. They ran like animals—shrieking, pushing, bleeding. Stones, almost like boulders, fell around them, smashing into the earth and cracking like eggs. Men draped in dark knelt, mouthing words. They should have run, Merrin thought, but they didn't. They only knelt, waited, prayed, and died.
I did this… I made men into children.
He grabbed the floor. Stone crumbled before him—inches away. The sound was a boom, drowning out the madness for a moment. Something was wrong.
I should be dead.
A hand clenched over his heart. He peered up, and there… the despair returned. Ron stood, hands up against a large stone, a flat boulder. Blood was streaming down his bare skin. He roared like a beast. An animal of unrelenting strength.
No!
Something else caught the moment. Ron was smoking. Dark vapor rose from him, and on his trousers, the froststone dulled in its azure radiance. Merrin realized: it had depleted of will!
No!
Something bright red ignited beside him. Horror, like sure death, whispered. He turned and saw a man running frantically, waving, screaming. He was on fire. Then there was another. Another. Another and another. They were all burning. Cries like water filled the narrow tunnel. Stones rained on them, and they drowned in fire.