“ 'King' isn't quite the right word,” Uraj said. “The term they use is sin, which is basically like 'revered elder.' Only those of considerable age and might amongst the grinel are given the title, and there are none as old, nor as powerful, as Origin.”
“Is that why that grinel who was here called you that?” I asked Uraj.
“Indeed. Amongst our people, Hawke and I are considered by the grinel to be of equal status to Origin. It was part of why they parlayed with us in the first place; they were surprised that any humans could live as long as one of their sin.”
“Origin's been around too long,” Hawke muttered darkly. “If only I had been stronger back then…”
“Stop that, you barely survived the last time you tried fighting him.” Uraj let out a curse of his own. “Besides, it's not looking like he'll be around much longer anyways.”
That got Hawke's attention. Uraj glanced at him for a second, then lowered his gaze.
“Crest Tilak told me. Origin's dying.”
“Good,” said Hawke. “Let him rot away.”
“Are you really so blind?” Uraj turned back to him, disbelieving. “Origin has been the one trying to make peace between the grinel and us. If he dies before we can establish something, whoever takes over might actually rally them against us! We'd be at the mercy of whoever decided to take up his mantle!”
Uraj slammed his fist into the table, smashing it to splinters. The map crumpled over the pile of wood it had just been sitting on. Everyone grew quiet for some time as we let the tension dissipate a little.
“Why would you want me to go in any case, Uraj?” Hawke finally asked. “If peace is what you really want with them, I'm definitely not the man you want to ask for help.”
“Because for all my desires to end this bloodshed, I need someone I know I can count on if things turn ugly.” Uraj strode to Hawke and stood face to face. “No matter what's happened in the past, there's still no one I can trust in that regard more than you.”
Hawke met Uraj's stare. It looked like he was rolling the idea around in his mind, fighting a mental battle against himself. Uraj sighed when there was no response.
“If you need any further incentive, I've heard through my contacts that the power you've been looking for might be in Grankul, too.”
Hawke's eyes lit up, but only for a second. He quickly guarded his expression again.
“How do I know I can trust you?” he said. “This seems too convenient.”
“I can't make you trust me. Not after what I did to you before.” Uraj paused, unable to find whatever words he had been planning. He had to take a deep breath to calm himself. “I can only ask you to give me another chance.”
I was a bit shocked that Uraj would even hint at what happened before. Hawke looked like he wasn't expecting it, either. He still looked reluctant, but it was wavering.
“Like I said, it's only a possibility,” Uraj continued to plead. “You've searched pretty much every inch of Astra for such an individual though, right? There have been some promising rumors coming from out of Grankul. It may be your last chance to find it.”
Hawke turned his back to us and walked a few steps off, arms crossed and brow furrowed. His face was a storm of emotions, each one fighting for dominance. I wanted to ask him about this power, but I didn't want to risk riling his temper. When he turned back, I held my breath.
“Assuming I was going to come,” he started, “we still need a group we can trust. If things are as tense as you say, even you and I together won't be nearly enough.”
Uraj didn't smile, but the shadow of one crept onto his face. “Well, that's what I need help with. The current savants holding the nullstones are worthless for any kind of negotiations. We need to come up with a list of possible candidates to replace them with.”
“Replace?” Hawke feigned astonishment. “Why, Uraj, are you suggesting we relieve the current holders of their right to go to Grankul?”
Uraj barked out a harsh laugh. “Oh, Hawke, by the time we're done, we'll make them wish they never considered setting foot there.”
Hawke and Uraj traded smirks so demonic it sent a shiver up my spine. Watching the two most powerful men in Astra plotting together felt like watching a maelstrom gathering to destroy everything in its path.
“So,” Hawke said, rubbing his palms together, “we have three nullstones for this group of ours: Your two, and, ugh, Shepherd.” Hawke shuddered a bit. “Are you sure she's necessary?”
“Besides being trustworthy, her position will hold a lot of weight,” Uraj said.
“Fine, fine,” Hawke sighed. “So that leaves the one Bojangles has, and the other two. Who has those?”
“One is carried by an assassin called the Giant's Shadow,” Uraj explained. Hawke groaned.
“First the Vagrant Knight, now the Giant's Shadow,” said Hawke. “It's like all of Astra's myths are coming to life at once.”
“You should know better than to dismiss myths, Hawke,” Uraj said pointedly.
“Sure, whatever.” Hawke rolled his eyes. “What do you know about this assassin?”
“Nearly nothing, unfortunately. Finding information on professional killers, at least competent ones, is harder than it sounds. I was lucky to be able to make contact with him even once.” Uraj tapped a finger against his temple. “One of my informants says that, supposedly, his real name is Fasketel. That's it.”
“Fasketel? That sounds like a grinel name,” said Hawke.
Uraj nodded. “He's a halfbreed. You'd know why they call him the Giant's Shadow if you saw him.”
“Great, so we're hunting for a lunatic with mind control and a half-demon well versed in killing. I suppose the last one belongs to Othenidus the Great or something.”
Uraj paused, his gaze flicking around nervously. The muscles in Hawke's face locked up.
“You're not serious,” he said.
“I wish I could say I wasn't,” Uraj groaned.
Hawke cut loose a swear I had never even heard before; he might have very well made it up on the spot. His essence roared out of him unbidden, and the braziers around the room exploded to life. Their flames climbed dangerously high, brightening the room like the sun had just come through the door. It took him a moment to calm himself, the fires slowly ebbing until they were little more than crackling embers, their fuel all burned away.
“I should have known,” Hawke panted, trying to keep from another outburst.
All the time I'd spent with Hawke considered, I knew he had a heavy dislike for Othenidus, but he had never bothered to tell me what the Lord of Val'Hala had done to earn his enmity. I had pieced together from random conversations that no small part of it was our reception the last time we had visited his city. Apparently, they had owed Hawke some debt of gratitude, and our treatment at that time was akin to spitting in his face.
“His will be the hardest to get,” Uraj said, “but we can worry about that later. At least we know where Othenidus is. Tracking down the Giant's Shadow and Bojangles again will likely prove more challenging.”
“Yes, I suppose you're right.” Hawke might have agreed with the Forge, but it was clear by his expression that he was still dwelling on the issue.
“Any thoughts on who you might want to bring along?” Uraj asked. Hawke's eyes flicked towards me.
“Of course I'll come,” I answered the unasked question. “I can't let Hawke wander off to face the grinel alone. The Almighty only knows what he'd do.”
Uraj looked at me with some skepticism. “I don't know if that'd be the best idea, Micasa.”
Hawke approached the table and picked up the nullstone Uraj had left there. Before the Forge could say anything, my companion marched to me and pressed it into my hand, closing my fingers around it.
“That one is supposed to be yours,” Uraj tried to argue. Hawke peered over his shoulder at him.
“No. Micasa is definitely coming, one way or another. She's far stronger than you might think, Uraj, and her powe
r is damn useful in a pinch. Besides,” Hawke let a sneer cross his lips, “I've already got my sights set on a new one that some upjumped lord is holding onto for me.”
Chapter 5: Once More on the Road
Evening in Damkarei was a quiet affair, with few people milling about the streets and only a scant number of stalls still open under the hazy light of the streetlamps. Hawke and I made our way back to the inn unmolested, the excitement from earlier in the day forgotten as the citizens fell back into their daily routine. I envied them a bit. It looked like our own lives were about to get far more interesting, to say the least.
Uraj had invited us to stay the night for dinner and to talk preparations, but Hawke had claimed to want a quiet evening by himself to eat and think about what we were about to take on. When we got back to the inn, though, he went straight back to our room without a word to the innkeep. I took some time to request some dinner from the help before following him back.
I found Hawke sitting on the bed, his guitar laying across his lap as he strummed at it. The notes didn't carry out of the room, but bottled up and filled it with his conflicting emotions. Hawke rarely played anything you could call an actual song. He preferred to just let his fingers go where they willed. Yet, even his most random tune felt like it told a story of something he had experienced long ago.
When the food arrived, I contented myself with eating on the floor while Hawke continued to play. It was a scenario we had lived countless nights over by now: him reminiscing through his guitar while I tended to other things. Neither of us felt the need to break the peace that settled in those moments.
Hawke struck a few familiar chords, and suddenly I realized he was playing a song I had heard before:
I hear you whisper quietly, you wish to soar away…
I fought the urge to sing along with the tune. It was an intensely personal song for Hawke, a memory of the woman he had loved: Rouge, of the gypsy people. She was the one who had broken his soul as part of an ill-conceived plan, who had worked herself tirelessly to try and correct the mistake. In the end, she died before Hawke was ever able to confront her about what had happened. It infuriated me to imagine why she would have hurt Hawke so.
And yet, if it hadn't been for her actions, I would have never met Hawke. I might have still been working on that plantation, spending my life as the thrall of some overstuffed master with nothing to look forward to but stale bread and the hope that the overseers wouldn't grow cross with me. Through Rouge's foolishness, I was given a chance encounter with my savior, now my best friend.
It made me wonder why Hawke had even agreed to return to meet with Uraj. It had been the Forge's idea for Rouge to use her power to try and wrest Hawke's healing ability from him so that Uraj could live forever as Hawke did. When Hawke had first learned of this, he had flown into a rage greater than anything I'd seen even all those years later. It seemed unlikely that Hawke had just forgiven him after all that had happened. Even if I had suggested we come back, I doubted that alone had been enough to change his mind. If not me, though, what did?
“Ruple for your thoughts?” Hawke said suddenly. I hadn't realized he had stopped playing. I had been so absorbed in my thoughts that I had just been staring off into space for sometime. I jolted back to the present and flashed him what I hoped was my most disarming smirk.
“I was just wondering where you planned on starting our little rock hunt,” I said. He looked at me for a moment, not quite convinced, but relented with a shrug.
“I have a couple ideas. How does going to see the Mad Riders sound to you?”
I got genuinely excited at the prospect. The Mad Riders had saved our skins when we had first traveled the Madness seeking out Hawke's soul, and we had formed a strange friendship with them since. The thought of getting to visit the old Medicine Man and his cohorts again put a smile on my face.
“You think maybe Blake might want to come to Grankul with us?” I asked. It had been a while since I'd seen my axe-loving friend, but I knew there was no better fighter amongst that rowdy group.
“That might not be a terrible idea,” Hawke agreed. “I was more hoping they might have some info on where Bojangles and this Fasketel might be.”
“Ah. Takes a thief to catch a thief, you think?”
“Well, they've been in contact recently with the family, and if anyone might have some information on our targets, it'd be them. It would be quicker than going to the Fertile Lands.”
I'd forgotten about that detail. Before we met them, the Mad Riders had been their own mercenary group, but since then Hawke had put them in touch with the family. They'd been acting for a while as a sort of side branch that operated in the Old Kingdom of Astra. That had been a dangerous move; the family mostly operated on the other side of the Madness, in the Fertile Lands, to avoid drawing the ire of any rulers who might take a heavy hand in stopping their work.
“In any case,” Hawke continued, “I think it's worth a visit. If nothing else, it'll be good to see them again.”
“You wouldn't be saying that if you had come with me the last few times I went,” I scolded him.
“Hey, I was busy with work for the family!” he said, holding his hands up in defense. “Besides, I didn't want to accidentally… you know…”
“See the Medicine Man?” I sighed. Hawke had a strange problem with taking on the powers of people he was well acquainted with. When he had learned my power to lock and unlock things, he had immediately used it to 'lock' it inside himself, making it unusable.
“That power would bring a lot of problems our way. Imagine how hard it would be to do our work if I could heal people just by touching them?” He grunted irritably. “We'd never get a moment's rest, and I'd be exhausting myself trying to keep up with it. You saw what it did to the Medicine Man. I might have more essence to spare, but even I can tire out.”
“Well, I'm tired right now,” I said with a stretch and a yawn. In truth, I was used to staying up late, and probably could have gone on for a few more hours, but I didn't want Hawke pressing me on what I had really been thinking about. I flopped onto the unoccupied bed in the room and closed my eyes, hoping he would buy the act.
I was a better actor than I had thought, because the next thing I remember is waking up to a soft knock at the door. I was alert in an instant. When you camp most of your life in the wild, you learn to shake sleep off pretty quickly. I thought it might have been the inn's staff, but the lantern in our room had gone out and the darkness of the night had bled into the room. I had to have been out for at least a few hours.
Hawke was already sitting up from the bed, dressed in his sleeping shift. He hoisted his legs over the side of the bed and scooped up Symphony from where it lay nearby, standing and gliding to the wall in utter silence. He looked at me and nodded to the door. I doubted anyone was trying to attack us if they were knocking, but it was reassuring knowing that Hawke was ready just in case.
I slid out of bed and approached cautiously. There hadn't been a sound since that first knock, and if Hawke hadn't heard it too, I might have dismissed it as a dream. I took a deep breath and cracked the door open to peek out.
A massive figure in a bundle of robes and scarves forced their way through the door and clicked it shut before I could react. I had been thrown backwards by the sheer strength of the intruder and my surprise, landing hard on the floor. Hawke lunged at the stranger and brought his sword up sharply, aiming directly for their neck.
The intruder grabbed the blade with a bare hand and stopped it mid-swing. I gasped; with Hawke's essence infused in it, Symphony should have sliced through their hand like wet paper. Whoever had barged in was exceptionally powerful.
“Is this how you treat everyone who comes calling in the night?” came a familiar voice from the depths of the scarves. I took a moment to size up the stranger, only to realize that I knew someone with such a bulky build.
“Uraj??” Hawke said, bewildered. The figure pulled aside some of the wrappings around his h
ead to reveal the pale face of the Old King peering at us, his brown eyes deepening to pits in the night.
“To be fair, that is how we treat people who force their way into our rooms,” I told him. I stood and tried to straighten out my clothes to save some of my dignity. “Especially those who look as brutish as you do,” I added for good measure.
Uraj frowned. “That's rude. I'm not that scary…am I?” He asked Hawke.
“Why in the world would you decide to come skulking around here and barging in disguised?” said Hawke, ignoring the question.
“I couldn't just walk around town in my full armor now, could I? Even at this time of night, people would notice. I'm quite keen on making sure we can get out of here without raising a fuss.”
Hawke's mouth twisted, confused, and Uraj replied by lifting a travel sack he had been holding.
“You want to come with us,” said Hawke. “Right now?”
“I've already got someone ready to let us out the main gate on my signal. We can be well on the road long before anyone will notice us.” Uraj's face lit up. He seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of sneaking out of the city. Poor guy must not have gotten out much.
“Who's going to rule while you're away?” asked Hawke.
“My stewardess, of course. She did most of the work when I was less…capable, and she'll be the one taking care of things while we're off at the Conclave too. Best for her to get some experience running things without my input now.”
“You've been letting the kingdom be run by a stewardess all these years?”
“Well, there was another king who used to help me with such things,” Uraj said dryly, putting a finger to his lips as he pondered mockingly, “but he ran off quite some time ago to do whatever he wanted. Now, what was his name?”
“Okay, okay, shut up already.” Hawke shook his head. “You seriously want to come with us to see the Mad Riders?”
“The Mad Riders?” Uraj said. “No, we're going to Liturgy.”
“What's in Liturgy?”
Savants of Humanity (The Scholar's Legacy Book 2) Page 6
