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

by Joshua Buller

  “At least he didn't decide to go with the pyrotechnics this time,” Hawke observed, looking at the flickering flames. I shrugged and started down the hallway, Hawke's footsteps following just shortly afterward.

  The entrance to the audience chamber lay ahead, and a couple of voices could be heard floating from inside the room. One was a familiar deep baritone, but the other was high pitched, like a woman's, and completely foreign to me. I hesitated at the threshold, but Hawke pushed past and marched right in.

  The room was mostly as I remembered it, a large windowless chamber of stone kept lit by a number of large braziers lining the walls that burned brightly enough to banish away any shadows lurking about. Though large enough to accommodate over a hundred people, the room was kept sparsely furnished. The only concession to ornament were two chairs hewn from solid granite that stood on a raised dais at the far end. Both had been destroyed last time we were there, but in our prolonged absence, a new pair had been carved and sat waiting for their occupants.

  A table had been set up in the center of the room, and two figures hunkered over it. One stood as we entered, his platinum hair tumbling down his shoulders while two eyes dark enough to be mistaken for black peered from underneath. His strong jawline was peppered with a thick stubble, but otherwise he looked just as he had six years ago.

  “Hawke, you made it.” Uraj let a small grin creep onto his face as he approached us. He had forgone the suit of plate I had last seen him in, favoring a finely tailored tunic of green satin and thick woolen breeches tucked into thigh high boots. Even without his intimidating armor, Uraj was still a bull of a man, standing near as tall as my lanky companion and corded with muscle hard earned from his former life as a blacksmith.

  “Good to see you well, Uraj,” said Hawke. He couldn't quite keep the suspicion from creeping into his voice, and it didn't go unnoticed. Uraj stopped a few steps away.

  “What's wrong?” he asked.

  “That's what I'd like to know.”

  Uraj sighed. “Does everything always have to be this terse between us? I was hoping we could have one conversation that didn't start on pins and needles. Goodness knows I've had enough of that already.”

  “So I've heard,” said Hawke. Uraj raised a brow.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had a run in with an interesting character,” Hawke told him, slowly beginning to walk in a wide circle around his former comrade. “Said he recently met with you and exchanged words.”

  Uraj furrowed his brow. “Which one are you referring to?”

  “There was more than one?” Hawke stopped moving. I couldn't help but notice he had placed Uraj between himself and me. He wasn't taking any chances here.

  “Of course, Hawke,” said Uraj. “You do realize what's coming up, right?”

  Hawke simply stared, confused. Uraj's own confusion started shifting to irritation.

  “If this is the state of the Old Kings, then perhaps it's time to consider doing away with the Conclave altogether.”

  All three of us turned to the new speaker as she broke her silence and took a few steps from the table. She was covered from head to toe in a heavy cloak, her features obscured by a hood and a scarf wrapped around her face. It muffled her voice, but she spoke more than loudly enough to carry through the room.

  “Conclave?” Hawke said. Realization started to dawn on his face. “Then that means you're…”

  The cloaked figure pulled her hood down and unwrapped her scarf, draping it casually over her shoulder. I gasped when I caught sight of her blue-tinted skin, rows of bony horns slicked back across her scalp, and two watery white eyes with neither iris nor pupil staring back at all of us.

  Uraj's guest was a grinel.

  Chapter 4: Conclave

  The moment the grinel revealed herself, Hawke's essence began to flare up and crackle dangerously around him. His hand tightened on Symphony's hilt, and he bared his teeth like a rabid animal as he pulled the blade halfway from its sheath.

  “You would dare threaten a diplomat of the grinel?” the stranger said, taking hold of a sheath that was tied to her side. She gave it a small warning shake, and I could have sworn I heard something sloshing around inside of it.

  “Hawke, control yourself!” Uraj snapped. “You've met Crest Tilak before! You know she means no harm here!”

  I knew better than most the seething hatred Hawke held for all grinel. He had witnessed firsthand their conquering of the world, had been forced to fight against them for most of his considerably long life. Still, Uraj had experienced the same situation, and he was handling this far better than my companion.

  “Get out of here,” was all Hawke deigned to say. He and the grinel woman locked eyes for quite some time before Crest Tilak let out a snort.

  “I've nothing more to talk about anyways.” She turned her head slightly towards Uraj, refusing to break her gaze with the enraged Scholar. “There will be no further negotiations. We leave as scheduled, like always. Sin Origin hopes to see you there, Sin Kuznetsov.” Her common speech was nearly perfect, but the last couple of words sounded like she was clearing her throat, uttered in the harsh grinel tongue.

  Crest Tilak quickly wrapped her face again and pulled up her hood, once again shrouding her true heritage. Hawke's power no longer raged around him, but he didn't relax in the slightest as the grinel marched through the room, passing me by without so much as a glance. It was only after she had gone that Hawke finally let go of his sword.

  Uraj let out his breath in a long whoosh, taking a second to calm himself. Then he turned on Hawke.

  “That was the stupidest thing you've ever done,” said Uraj. “You know if you had attacked her, it would have been a declaration of war!”

  Hawke spat. “Maybe it's about time we stopped playing these games and did just that.”

  “Get your head out of your ass! We can't fight the entire grinel nation! They'd wipe us off the face of the planet!” Uraj marched forward and grabbed Hawke by the collar, taking him by surprise.

  “We need the Conclave now more than ever!” Uraj snarled. “Things have been changing fast - far, far too fast - and you have no idea the thin ice we're treading on! The last thing we need is to bring the full might of the grinel down on our heads!”

  Hawke just stood, mouth hanging open slightly, apparently trying not to rile up the old blacksmith too much. For all of Hawke's strength, Uraj did not look like the type of man you'd want to pick a fight with. Finally, Hawke sighed.

  “I'm sorry, Uraj. My temper got the better of me. You're right, I shouldn't have done that.”

  Uraj let go, looking half surprised and half relieved that Hawke had actually apologized. He busied himself by straightening his tunic a bit.

  “Well, thankfully you only almost attacked her, and almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

  “Eh?” I cried out, perplexed by his analogy. The Forge turned towards me as if seeing me for the first time, and an odd expression crossed his face. It was the closest thing I had seen to him showing wonder.

  “Is that really little Micasa there?” He walked towards me, and I had to fight the urge to back away. Almighty above, he was a big guy. He stopped just short of me and lifted his big, calloused hands, though he seemed to be fighting a personal struggle of whether to hug me or give me a handshake. Considering how little I had talked to him, I felt a handshake more appropriate and offered one first.

  “Good to see you again, milord,” I said in my most respectful tone. Uraj choked a bit.

  “Please, Micasa,” he said, “no need to be so formal with me. Uraj will do fine.” He took my hand and gave it a firm shake. I bit my lip to keep from crying out; the Forge didn't seem to understand the idea of holding back.

  Uraj released his grip quickly enough and returned to the table he and the grinel named Crest Tilak had been conferring over. Hawke strode over to join him, with me quickly following to see what they were looking at.

  I was met with
a massive map that covered the entire surface. It was scored all over with creases and tears; it looked much older than I was, and probably was. I scanned the aged parchment, noticing right away that, unlike the maps I was used to using, Astra only took up one small part of the document. A much larger portion was given to a jagged shape that resembled a landmass, but it was one I had never seen before.

  “I'm glad you two made it so quickly,” Uraj said. He leaned heavily against the table, his eyes darting between us and the weathered map. “I was expecting at least another couple weeks.”

  “I'm astonished we got your letter at all,” Hawke replied. “How did you know those merchants would find us?”

  Uraj gave him a blank stare. “Who do you think hired that caravan in the first place?” he asked. Hawke squinted and sputtered a bit.

  “B-but that doesn't explain how you knew we'd…” Hawke trailed off as he thought harder on it.

  “How I'd know you would intercept that caravan?” Uraj suggested. “Unless maybe someone tipped off the family about when a prime target would be heading through the Madness?”

  Hawke glowered at him. “You can't be serious.”

  Uraj let out a cackle. “Oh, Hawke, all this time, and you think I don't know you. I keep my ear to the ground far better than you give me credit for.” Hawke's ears were starting to turn pink, which only made Uraj laugh all the harder.

  “At least that means you probably haven't been put under the influence of Bojangles,” Hawke said. Uraj stopped laughing.

  “Bojangles the Third? He was the person you were referring to?” Uraj leaned forward and gripped the table tightly.

  “Yeah. Micasa and I ran into him in a ruin a week or so from here. Guy was half off his rocker, used a power that gave him control over us.”

  Uraj sucked in a breath. “How did you get away?”

  “He left on his own,” Hawke said. “I managed to learn his power and undo the hold he put on us.”

  Uraj's eyes went wide. “You have his power? Truly?”

  “I can give you something to do if you don't believe me.”

  “No, no, I believe you.” Uraj backed away with his hands held up. “That's quite a stroke of luck, all things considered. I was afraid you might have run into grinel while you were out there.”

  Hawke gave him a quizzical look. “What would make you think that?”

  “There's been an increase in grinel sightings in the Old Kingdom over the last year or so. Damnedest thing, but every time we go to investigate, the people say the problem was dealt with by some vigilante. They call him the Vagrant Knight.” He crossed his arms, chin sinking to his chest as he pondered.

  “That old tale? People have been talking about him for decades.” Hawke dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. “I've never met anyone who could pass for a knight capable of killing a grinel, though.”

  “It would be nice if we could find them. Someone with that kind of strength would be useful to bring along.”

  “For the Conclave you mean?” Hawke started to frown. “Was that what you met with Bojangles about?”

  “I'm afraid so,” said Uraj.

  “Please don't tell me you were actually considering bringing that loon along.”

  “I've no choice,” Uraj said. He sighed and marched across the room to his throne, which he fell into with a heavy thump. His head fell in his hands, and he sat there for a long while, silent. He looked every bit like a man who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “Hawke, you've never mentioned this Conclave to me before,” I broke in. Hawke turned to me, suddenly looking like I caught him in the middle of a lie. “What's so important about it?”

  “I'm not surprised he hasn't mentioned it,” Uraj answered me from his seat. “Hawke hasn't bothered to come to one in over a century.”

  Hawke glared at him for a second, but I cleared my throat. I wasn't going to let him worm his way out of answering me. Cursing under his breath, he turned back.

  “Every twenty years or so, the grinel parlay with us, asking that we send a group of representatives from Astra to meet and discuss the state of the world,” he said. “The Conclave is what this meeting is called. It's held on the grinel continent, Grankul.”

  He reached towards the map and tapped the giant landmass marked on the paper. I took a good long look at it. So that was where the grinel took hold and made the world theirs. What would my life have been like if they had never come?

  “They actually let people go to their homeland?” I asked.

  “Only those with permission,” said Uraj, standing from his throne. He placed a hand on the backrest and shoved, tipping the chair backwards. It was a testament to his strength that he was able to move the solid stone chair with brute force alone. I might have been able to do the same thing, but only by enhancing my strength with my essence.

  A small compartment had been carved under the seat. From it, Uraj retrieved a cloth sack before letting the throne fall back into place with a resounding crash. He approached the table and shook its contents onto the surface.

  Two dingy stones clattered onto the table. They reminded me of shinestones, somewhat crystalline in nature, but had a muddy, glassy appearance not shared with their milky white counterparts.

  “You've probably never seen a nullstone before,” said Hawke. He fished around in a pocket for a moment and placed a ruple on the table next to the dark pieces of rock.

  “Shinestones can channel essence touching it, which makes them give off the luster they're named for,” Uraj started explaining, “but nullstones are the exact opposite. They are completely immune to the effects of essence.”

  Hawke took a couple of steps back and concentrated on the objects on the table. After a moment, he took a deep breath and flung his hand out. The table rocked as if hit by a sudden gust of wind. The coin Hawke had set there tumbled away, and the map fluttered like it wanted to join it. The only thing that stopped it moving was the nullstones that still stood fast, unmoving.

  “Seems like a weapon made of this would be useful if you're dealing with someone with a power,” I commented. Uraj walked up to the stones and hefted one into his hand.

  “You'd think so, but they're too rare. Nullstones and shinestones are both minerals that came to our world during the Pilgrimage, but shinestones are far more plentiful. That's why the grinel gave us these to use as passes for the Conclave: they're impossible to replicate.”

  “Anyone who has one is granted permission to take the boat that lands here once every twenty years,” Hawke continued. “When they first made this arrangement, they gave Uraj and me around thirty of them to distribute as we saw fit to people of influence so they could have a say before the grinel.”

  “So how many do you have left?” I asked, eyeing the one still sitting on the table.

  “Er…these two,” said Uraj. He grimaced and looked away. “I use one for myself, and keep hold of the one Hawke used to use, in the event he ever decided to take advantage of the Conclave.” Hawke's lip curled at the idea but tried to hide it before Uraj could see. From the way Uraj's eyes narrowed, he failed.

  “So where are all the others?” I questioned further, trying to keep them on track.

  “Most of them have been lost over the decades,” said Uraj. “Those who had them disappeared, or lost them. One Conclave, the boat was sunk shortly after it departed Grankul by a group of grinel who weren't so keen on the peace talks. I was lucky to make it back to shore, but many weren't so fortunate, and some of those who made it back with me lost theirs in the tumult. We probably lost around ten of them just then.”

  “How many are left, Uraj?” asked Hawke. The Forge once again looked away, biting his lip.

  “Six, counting the two you see here.”

  “Six?” Hawke gaped at him. “What are we going to do with six? If you really intend to go, you'd need to be able to bring a small army! Thirty wasn't even enough to deal with Origin back in the day.” He ran his fingers through
his hair distractedly and started pacing.

  “That's not the biggest problem,” Uraj said. Hawke turned on him.

  “What could be worse?”

  “The last four are in the hands of savants, and three of them are rogue.”

  Hawke sucked in a breath, and even I had to wince a bit at that. Savant was the term used to describe anyone who had naturally acquired a power without any formal training, much like I was. My power had been honed steadily through Hawke's guidance, but savants with no such teaching could often develop dangerous powers that they barely understood themselves.

  “Let me guess,” Hawke ventured, “Bojangles is one of those four.” When Uraj nodded, Hawke swore loudly. The curse echoed around the room for a while unchallenged.

  “If I had known from the start, I would've taken it from him then,” he muttered. His fingers danced along Symphony's hilt, and I feared for a moment he'd start swinging it around in frustration. After a few seconds of venting, he exhaled deeply and tried to calm himself.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, “you said three of the four are in the hands of rogues. That means there is one you have accounted for?”

  Uraj nodded. “You might remember our old acquaintance Silvia Shepherd?” Hawke swore again, but Uraj ignored him. “She's holed up in Liturgy with one of the stones. I brought her with me last time as…insurance.”

  I could only tilt my head, puzzled, but Hawke cut in before I could ask who this Silvia was.

  “Do you at least know who has the other ones?”

  “I do,” said Uraj. “You recall I told you I met with several individuals? I was trying to talk them into accompanying me to meet with Origin.”

  “What's this Origin you all keep mentioning?” I butted in. I was getting tired of them talking like I wasn't there.

  I didn't think it possible for Hawke to look any angrier, but his face melted into a scowl that looked like it could have boiled water.

  “The leader of the grinel, their king,” he said. “It's because of him that the Pilgrimage even occurred.”