🏆 OPEN NOVELLA CONTEST 2022 LONGLISTER 🏆
Mersem Wess, a town boy in the wintery kingdom of Solon, is content with his life collecting timber and admiring Leara Madris, the darling Lady Knight, from afar. His sister, Silke, a girl with a short fuse...
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The wind blew through the snow as Leara yanked her sword clean. Vordan's body fell sideways and Mersem barely caught him. Warm blood scalded his hands and something else inside him. Not Father...
White strands whipped in the air when Leara merel shook her head and tore forward, to wherever Vera spirited Silke to. Mersem clawed at the blossoming dark patch against his father's coat. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes but the cold sipped them dry before they could even flow.
"Dad, stay with me," Mersem sobbed, his shoulders shaking with each word he managed to cough out. "There's got to be someone who could help us. Someone—"
A hand gripped his arm. He looked down to see his father smiling at him despite the dimming spark in his eyes. "Silke's not the only mistake I'm atoning for," he raised his gaze to the sky, searching for something Mersem wouldn't ever know. "I was the one responsible for uprooting the village you grew up in."
Mersem shook his head and sniffed. "Don't speak. I'll get someone to help you. We can...we can get through this," he looked around, trying to see past the infinite white and the endless cold. "Help us, please! Anyone!"
"Mersem," his father whispered. He looked down once more to find his father's skin already turning gray. No. Not him. Not now. He couldn't—
"I found you after the aftermath of the purge," his father muttered under his breath. Mersem had to lean closer to understand what he was saying. "The King ordered the Order to purge a village for failure to pay taxes. I'm sorry, Mersem. I'm sorry."
Mersem squeezed his father's shoulder as more of his blood stained his arm, his legs, and his boots. He doubted he'd ever remember the time when they weren't doused in red. "It's not your fault," he said. "None of this is. Please, Dad. I'll get you some help."
He moved to stand up but his father coughed. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips. "Aye, it's too late for this old man," Vordan said. "Before I go, I'd like to let you know."
"Know what?"
A small smile crinkled the corners of Vordan's eyes. "You and Silke are the best children I could ever ask for."
Then, the light in his eyes dimmed, matching the lifeless wasteland around them. His grip on Mersem's arm slid off and thumped against the snow. His eyes stared unseeing towards the sky watching over them without any emotion. Despite the cold, a torrent of tears sprung from Mersem's eyes, each drop blazing a trail down his freezing cheeks.
His father couldn't be gone. He couldn't be. It's all so unfair.
"Vera!" Silke's voice rang in the air. Mersem turned to find the mage boy holding Leara at bay by sending a vortex of wind towards her. He cursed. What were they doing here? Shouldn't they be halfway through the town by now?
Mersem set his father's cold body down and staggered up. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and balled his fists. Leara Madris. She should stop. Too many people have been hurt already. Vera, from afar, didn't look that good with blood running down from the side of his face and from a wound coloring his sleeve red. He didn't look like he could maintain whatever magic he was using to hold Leara off. Once that blizzard finishes, the lady knight would surely lunge and skewer them.
