Meritorium (Meritropolis Book 2) by Joel Ohman Read Free Book Online Page B

of acid, but let’s see if this works.” He slashed both blades down in a vicious circular scything motion and began to vigorously chop through the now bush-sized flowers. It seemed wrong somehow; he hacked violently through the polychromatic pastels, sending florets, big and small, sliding along on the wind like so much common brush.
    But it appeared to be working. His poisoned blades were cauterizing the hydra bushes and preventing their regrowth.
    “Let’s go—follow me!” Charley called out, slicing his way out. In mere moments, the plants before them, eerily sentient, seemed to sense the presence of his poisoned blades and rapidly recoiled, presenting a clear pathway.
    Charley jogged ahead. Slowing, he looked from side to side at the multicolored tangle of shrubbery that shrank back from their path. He took a deep breath and smiled. Sven was right. It was, quite literally, just like a walk in the park.
    The foliage grew thinner; they had to be reaching the other side. He had done it; he had led the way, and actually gotten them through the Bramble. Increasing his pace, he squinted into the distance. They couldn’t yet see the outlines of the city, but Charley could see something on the horizon, just peeking over, and growing closer, headed directly toward them.
    Travelers.



CHAPTER 3
    Travelers
    C harley contemplated unsheathing his blades from his back, but ultimately settled for making sure that the twin leather-bound handles were clearly visible peeking above his head. He bounced ever so slightly from side to side, creaking a stiff knee in and then out, and looked over at Grigor, standing impassively at his side. Grigor’s gaze never wavered from the two travelers walking toward them, their silhouettes backlit by an orange and purple sky where the fading sun slid away like a slippery egg yolk over the horizon. Charley and Grigor had been chosen as the advance welcoming party. The others—in particular, a still-loopy Orson—remained back by their fire, safely out of reach of the Bramble.
    It seemed the travelers had taken their cue and sent two representatives of their own. Coming into view were a short and squat woman who was almost as wide as she was tall, and a young boy who looked to be a few years younger than Charley. Neither looked like anything they couldn’t handle, but Grigor had warned him to be wary.
    The two travelers approached close enough to hit with a stone. Charley and Grigor remained standing, motionless—watching and waiting.
    The woman appeared to be middle-aged, yet prematurely grey with short, tightly cropped hair that framed her expansive face. She stopped, not ten paces away, and motioned for the boy to do the same. Charley looked them over intently, without speaking or changing his facial expression. Each of them had the same dark skin and broad facial features so it was obvious they were related. Neither appeared armed, but they were each heavily bundled with layers of clothing and well-worn packs, so there could be any number of weapons stowed on their person.
    The woman broke the silence, a smile creasing her face. “Greetings! I am called Marta.” She turned toward her companion and flicked her thick fingers. “My son, Jameson, and I welcome you to the plains country.”
    Grigor spoke, his voice a deep rumble like tires crunching on gravel. “Greetings to you as well. I am Grigor, and this is Charley.” His eyes never left the woman. “Where are you from?”
    “Why, we are just lowly merchants from Meritorium, buying and selling, trying to eke out a living. Anything to put food on the table—like all of us, right?” She continued to smile, her hands spread wide and stubby limbs gesturing to draw them in closer. Charley thought that she was likely a very successful merchant, the lowly bit all a part of her practiced sales spiel; to be this self-assured while coming face-to-face with the hulking Grigor for the first time was an impressive feat.
    Charley broke in. “How