Savants of Humanity (The Scholar's Legacy Book 2)

by Joshua Buller

  From inside the alcove of a boulder where we crouched, we watched as a line of camels laden with packs and sacks trudged through the hellish heat of the Madness. Their riders were wrapped from head to toe in scarves and robes, bundled as tightly as Hawke and I were to try and avoid the worst parts of the desert's wrath. Every so often, one rider would turn to another and gesticulate, but I would've been surprised if they could hear each other in such weather.

  I was able to just catch sight of several hazy figures rising over a dune and heading steadily towards the caravan. Their beige cloaks made them almost invisible, even from our vantage point. In the thickest part of the storm, the camel riders would never see them coming.

  I was ready to spring our trap, but the strong grip on my shoulder didn't lessen. I shot Hawke an impatient glance, but he only shook his head. Apparently, he thought the time wasn't right.

  Even when they were a scant few yards away, the sand-colored figures still didn't increase their pace. The caravan made no motion that they had a clue what was headed their way. It wasn't until they were practically on top of each other that the camouflaged characters darted out unexpectedly, curved blades and cudgels whipping out from the folds of their robes.

  That was the moment Hawke decided to haul me to my feet, right before he vaulted off the rock and leapt into the fray, soaring a hundred feet in a single bound. I ground my teeth in frustration; he knew full well I couldn't make those kinds of death-defying leaps. I was left with no choice but to slide down from our position as quickly as possible, praying I wouldn't lose my balance and tumble the rest of the way down. That wouldn't make quite the impression on our foes that I wanted.

  The wind was even worse than I thought down in the small gulch. With one arm raised to shield my eyes from the sand, I fought my way towards the dark shapes of the caravan and its attackers. A few grunts and shouts floated my way, only to quickly be swept up in the howl of the wind.

  By the time I finally got there, the fight was basically over. Hawke was smashing his open palm into the face of one of the marauders, giving his sandy robe a sudden burst of crimson from his nose. A number of similar bodies were strewn about the ground, already coated with a fine layer of dust. From the look of it, Hawke hadn't even drawn his sword.

  One of the caravan riders cried out in dismay when I came into view. He brandished a blade of his own at me, but Hawke shouted out and held up a hand to stop them. I approached Hawke, not bothering to hide my frustration.

  “Was there even a reason for me to bother coming down?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said Hawke. “I'm gonna need some help tying all these bandits up and getting them out of the storm.”

  “At least you didn't kill any of them,” I remarked. Bending over one of them and seeing the extent of Hawke's beating on them, I added, “…I think.”

  “Course not. They won't last long if they're left out like this, though.” Hawke turned and started speaking to one of the merchants, asking if they had any rope to spare for the bandits. I knew we had plenty of binding back with our own camels, but in Hawke's zeal, he seemed to have forgotten to have one of them on hand to bring down. With a sigh, I turned to retrieve our mounts, just in case.

  I was amazed that I could find the camels at all, though it took far longer than I had hoped. When I finally made my way back with both our rides in tow, the merchants had already helped Hawke secure the bandits with some of their own supplies. There were five in total, each one bound up and ready to be hurled over a camel's back like a wriggling carpet.

  “Micasa, you didn't have to get the camels by yourself,” Hawke said, frowning. I returned the frown right back at him.

  “How are we supposed to carry these guys back without them? You planning on just flinging them over your shoulder?” I asked.

  “The merchants agreed to help me escort their new friends to the nearest outpost to await the pleasure of local law enforcement,” he informed me.

  “And we were just going to walk back with them?”

  Hawke's eyes dropped, and he grew silent at that.

  “Next time, we don't set up watch so far from our rides,” I told him. I handed him the reins to his camel before hoisting myself into the saddle of my own.

  “Come on, Lumps, let's let the big strong bandit hunter take care of his cargo,” I cooed to my camel as I stroked her head. Lumps brayed, and I gave her a little pet. With a kick of my heels, we set off towards the head of the merchants' line.

  “Hey, what about these guys!?” Hawke exclaimed, pointing to his brigand pile.

  “I'm sure you can handle it allllll on your own,” I called back.

  My irritation with Hawke was a bit overblown, certainly. It would've taken much longer to reach the battle if he hadn't jumped. I just hated how he always did everything by himself. It certainly wasn't the first time.

  The head of the merchant caravan looked at me from the corner of her eye as I drew up alongside, her hazel eyes and a peek of brown flesh the only skin visible from the folds of her cowl. I gave her a small nod.

  “We are grateful for the intervention of your bodyguard,” she said. Her eyes crinkled a bit. “He makes quite an entrance.”

  “Yes, there's no one quite like him,” I replied, trying to hide the indignation in my tone. “He's not my bodyguard, though. We're partners.”

  “Oh?” The merchant seemed even more amused at that idea. “I can only imagine how strong you must be then.”

  I grumbled under my breath. Hopefully in the weather, she couldn't hear my sulking.

  “How was it you knew we needed help, though?” she asked suddenly. “Your timing was, how should I put it, convenient?” The playful tone left her, replaced by suspicion.

  “We were hired to watch your caravan,” I said. “We were told your wares might be targeted and to keep an eye out in case the rumors were true.”

  “And you didn't decide to tell us we were targets or that we had this protection of yours because…?”

  She was much sharper than I had given her credit for. “Our employer was afraid of making your people nervous. They thought if you knew you were targeted, you might not make the trek at all.”

  “The Madness is always dangerous. That's no news to us.”

  “Sure, but it's not always a certainty you'll be attacked by bandits.”

  “And this time was?”

  “I hope you're not suggesting we're with those who attacked you.” I held up a hand to my chest. “We really were concerned for your safety. Why would we stop them if those people were with us? You think they'd let themselves get beat up so badly if we hired them?”

  Her eyes lingered on me for a second. Finally, she looked away and sighed. “I suppose I'm just being paranoid. You'll have to forgive me. It's true that danger isn't unheard of to us, but that doesn't make it any easier.”

  “I understand.” I urged my mount closer and laid a hand on her arm.

  We waited a few more minutes until Hawke and a group of merchants trotted back to us, each of their camels now laden with a secured hostage added to their wares. Hawke gave me a sullen look but said nothing on the matter. I didn't feel too bad about how I left him. I had done my part to make sure everything went along smoothly.

  “I hope you don't mind if we join you for the last small leg of the journey,” I said to the merchant leader. “Now that we're certain the threat is real, we want to make sure they don't catch you - or us - unawares again.”

  The leader nodded. “I'm sure my people will feel better with you and your…partner along.” She raised a playful eyebrow at me before turning back to the caravan and twirling her hand through the air. “Let's get a move on, folks, before we have anymore unwanted baggage!”

  One of the other merchants let out a couple of short trills on a whistle, and soon the caravan was back in formation and trudging their way through the storm again. Hawke and I kept a pace just ahead of the leader, far enough that we could talk without being overheard.

>   “You think they'll follow?” I asked him as quietly as I could over the howl of the wind.

  “They might not completely trust us, but they're already well aware of what I can do,” Hawke said. “That mistrust can work to our advantage, anyways. They'll want to have us close enough to keep an eye on.”

  Indeed, they seemed more than happy to let us lead the way. We, in turn, were just as happy to nudge our eastward course just the slightest bit south. It might have been noticed if any of our new friends had been eager to turn and check the heading of the sun, but as Hawke surmised, they were more interested in making sure we didn't try to bolt away.

  Our bandit prisoners awoke shortly thereafter, but it only took a nominal amount of struggling on their part to realize they weren't making any daring escapes soon. They were content to keep quiet, only throwing the occasional acidic glare in our direction.

  By late evening, the storm had abated to a mere nuisance, and the first chilled breeze of the desert night started to pass through when we caught sight of the lamps. A few ragged cheers came up from the merchants, and even I found myself cracking a smile. It had been a couple of days since we last saw signs of anything close to civilization.

  Hawke and I slowed our mounts, letting the caravan pass us while we acted under the guise of making sure they made the last leg safely. Several tents had been erected right where the sands of the Madness began to give way to tufts of green(ish) grass and a sparse population of palm trees. Their welcoming lights beckoned the caravan with the promise of safety and rest.

  The leader, however, had slowed with us. “I don't remember a trading outpost this close to the border,” she said. Her eyes swiveled between Hawke and me, narrowing ever so slightly.

  “People are getting bolder.” Hawke gave a noncommittal shrug. “We've been using this outpost for years, now. In fact, it looks like a few old friends of ours are already here to welcome us.”

  Out of the shadows, several black-robed figures astride black horses seemed to materialize around the merchant. Her head swiveled around in shock before finally landing back on me. The anger in her eyes was only matched by the betrayal.

  “So you are nothing more than common bandits,” she spat.

  The dark clad newcomers drew close, and one pulled off the cloth hiding his face. “Come now, miss, there's no need to be rude. We're no bandits, just some entrepreneurs lookin' to corner the market. If you'd kindly come with us, we can discuss business inside.” He flashed her his best apologetic smile.

  “Do I have a choice?” she asked.

  “'Fraid not,” he said with a wry smirk, “but humor us for a while, and I promise you won't leave displeased.”

  Her head hanging in defeat, the merchant let herself be led away by the horsemen. Hawke and I waited until they were long ahead of us before following suit. Somehow, I suspected the caravan leader didn't want to be all that close to us for a while.

  “I never like lying to them like that,” I said, still keeping my voice low enough to not carry far.

  “To be honest, I don't much either,” Hawke admitted. “The family does pay more for the goods than the actual clients these merchants are employed by, but good luck convincing them of that. They'll be better off in the long run.”

  The human bundle still draped across the back of Hawke's camel began to stir.

  “Hey, Hawke, we made it back, yeah?” called a muffled voice. “Is there a reason I'm still tied up back here like a sack of grain?”

  “Oh!” Hawke stopped his mount and hopped off to tend to the “bandit” he was still toting around. Once the man was unbound and back on his feet, he took a moment to stretch out a few kinks in his back. His joints popped and creaked like an old door.

  “Man, you know you're not really supposed to beat the crap out of us on these jobs, right?” the man wheezed through gritted teeth as he prodded at his swollen nose, which was still bent at a painful angle.

  “Sorry, Nox, I had to make it convincing.” Hawke patted the guy on the shoulder, doubling the guy over with a fresh bout of agony. “They almost didn't buy it as it is. You fellows did great back there, though.”

  “Yeah, I think I'm gonna stick one of the younger guys on bandit detail next time though,” Nox said as he started back towards the camp. “I'm getting too old for this.”

  “You sure you don't want a ride back?” Hawke called after him. Nox dismissed him with a choice finger.

  “Well,” Hawke turned back to me, looking eager to change the subject, “why don't we go see what our part of the cut is?”

  The small fortification of tents was bustling with members of the family milling about, tending to the duties that arose with a fresh score. They weren't bandits in the traditional sense; most of them were far too clean to ever be mistaken on that account. Their fastidious attention to detail also left a lot to be desired when comparing them to the common thug. These were criminals of a higher caliber, eschewing law only because of how inefficient it was to do things the legal way.

  I never fully understood why Hawke was willing to throw in his hat with that lot. He truly seemed to believe they were working for the betterment of the people. To be fair, the family had accomplished a lot: they were almost solely responsible for the construction of Sapir, the capital of pretty much all artistic endeavors in Astra, and took on the brunt of the protection duties of the people in the Fertile Lands that lay east of the Madness. That was supposed to be the job of the reigning monarchy, but few soldiers were willing to make the trip from the Old Kingdom across the inhospitable and barren waste that divided the country in two. The family took full advantage of that to tweak the system to take the matters into their own hands when possible, all the while skimming a bit off the top for themselves.

  It was a system that we took advantage of, perhaps a bit more than I liked. Still, it gave us an information network that spanned most of our civilized world, an invaluable tool in our personal quest to better the lives of the people. I tried to remind myself that that was our goal, even if we occasionally had to perform tasks I found a bit distasteful.

  Hawke and I entered the largest pavilion tent, where many of the merchants had already been corralled. Some were lounging on overstuffed cushions, taking in the first decent meal and drink they'd probably had in days. A few were talking heatedly with members of the family, easily distinguishable thanks to the vertical line tattooed under their left eyes. The protests of the merchants grew weaker as the family members pressed more and more coin into their hands.

  We strode past them to where one man stood in the back, amidst the heaps of goods that had been unloaded from the caravan. His deep tan and charcoal hair were a match for my own features, but his locks were currently splayed all about his head as if he had just awoken. He was busy looking over the wares and cataloguing them with swift tally marks on a clipboard.

  “How's the haul this time, Genzo?” Hawke asked as we approached. The family member screwed up his face and vigorously rubbed his head in agitation. No wonder he couldn't keep his hair neat.

  Genzo didn't look up right away, his pencil still darting across the parchment. When Hawke tapped his shoulder, he shot us a peeved expression that softened when he recognized us.

  “Everything's about as well as could be expected,” he said. He scratched the tattoo on his left cheek, the common greeting amongst family members. Though Hawke and I lacked the marking of a true member, we still followed their courtesies and returned the gesture.

  “Twelve bars of gold, twenty of silver, no fewer than a hundred precious gems, some damn good lumber and steel.” Genzo droned the numbers while pointing to each item. “Old Kingdom doesn't have crap for food or artwork, but their raw materials are top notch. People pay a sweet ruple for this stuff.”

  “Speaking of ruples…” Hawke held out his hand and rubbed his forefinger and thumb together.

  “Yes, yes, here.” Genzo hastily shoved a pair of felt pouches into Hawke's hand. They tinkled musically against ea
ch other. Hawke took a moment to peek inside each one before tossing one of the coin purses to me.

  “Always good doing business with you,” said Hawke with a small smile. Genzo was already back to his inventory, face slack in concentration.

  As Hawke walked away with his pay, I removed a few of the silvered coins from my own share and shoved them into Genzo's pocket.

  “Do me a favor,” I asked, “and give this to Fern the next time you're in Changirah. Tell him Micasa says hi.”

  “Sure, sure, Fern, hi, gotcha.” He barely acknowledged me as he continued making ticks on his clipboard. There was a good chance he'd forget, but to be fair, everyone else in the family seemed to forget Fern a lot more easily.

  Hawke had thrown himself into one of the puffy cushions near the entrance and was busy dancing a ruple across his knuckles while he waited for me to finish my meager business.

  “You know he probably won't get that money,” he said.

  I shrugged. “If we were heading towards Changirah, I'd give it to him personally. It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more generous with your own money, Hawke. It's not like we're wasting away.”

  “Don't start that again. You know I give—”

  “Hawke?” one of the men nearby interrupted him. “Say, are you by chance Hawke Morau?” My companion nodded. The merchant turned to one of the women he had ridden in with. “Hey, Quinn, you still got that letter!?”

  “Letter?” Hawke and I said in unison.

  “Yeah, somewhere around here,” the woman replied. She dug through the depths of her cloak, unearthing a crumpled roll of parchment sealed with a blob of gray wax. The man who had cut in snatched it from her hands and pressed it into Hawke's.

  “We were told to deliver this directly to you,” he said with a look of satisfaction. Quinn glared at him.

  Hawke examined the letter. Noting the seal was unbroken, he nodded.

  “Thanks for keeping it safe,” he said, flipping the coin he had been playing with through the air at Quinn. She caught it and flashed a smirk at her comrade, whose face soured quickly.

  “Who's it from?” I asked. Hawke frowned, even though he hadn't opened it yet. He broke the wax with a finger and shook the note out, holding it up to read it better by the brazier light in the tent. His frown worsened as his eyes moved.