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

by Joshua Buller

  Again the congregation chimed their agreements, nodding and making their motions of prayer. The Lord Ordained's head shook a little.

  The rest of the sermon went on much of the same way. The Lord Ordained read from a scripture penned by some long forgotten priest, every so often commenting on how poorly it reflected on the world. The priestesses in turn would turn the Ordained's words around and turn them into something uplifting, and the believers would eat it up eagerly while the Lord Ordained seemed to grow more and more weary.

  Finally, the Ordained closed the book before her. “It seems our time tonight has come to a close. Think well on what's been said, and may your search lead to the Peace of the Light.”

  The believers all made the gesture again, and this time I was ready to follow en suite. My voice combined with theirs as we spoke as one.

  “To the Peace of the Light.”

  One by one the robed figures rose and left, some talking quietly among each other. I looked around, noticing that the black robes had already left. No doubt they had scurried away before the white robes could notice them.

  Nobody had anything to say to the two outsiders who lingered near the side, waiting for the church to empty. When the last of the church goers had left, Uraj bade me to rise and follow him to the front.

  “Sorry we couldn't sit closer,” he apologized softly to me. “Those who aren't ordained in the Tenet are allowed at sermons, but are expected to sit in the back. Otherwise, I would have brought us straight up front.”

  “That's fine. I saw…quite enough where we were,” I said. I was still trying to figure out what I had just sat through.

  The Lord Ordained still stood at the altar, her hands unmoving from its smooth marble surface. The two priestesses who had accompanied the Lord Ordained turned their cowled faces towards us, arms crossing in displeasure. The Ordained leaned close and whispered to them. They looked to each other for a moment, then back to their gilded peer, nodding. Without a word, both turned and headed out the main door and into the night.

  “Let me get out of this thing first,” said the Ordained, her voice still quivering. She motioned with a hand for us to follow her into the back room where she had come from earlier. She led us into an antechamber with a line of stalls against the wall. Some of them held the ornate looking robes that I assumed belonged to high-ranking members of the clergy.

  The Lord Ordained shrugged out of her golden robe and tossed it onto a nearby bench, thumping down beside it heavily, shoulders sinking. Underneath, she had been wearing a dirty black robe tied off at the waist with a length of rope. Her face was hidden by the raised hood, but there was an odd sheen coming from the opening.

  “Silvia,” Uraj said, “I want to introduce you to Micasa. She's Hawke's young ward. Micasa,” he turned to me, holding his hand towards the drooping figure, “this is Silvia Shepherd, the highest ranking member of the Holy Tenet's clergy - the Lord Ordained.”

  She raised his head so I could see the face hiding in the cowl, and I held back a gasp.

  Silvia looked like a woman with one foot in the grave. Her face was sunken and milky white, her ghostly green eyes shot with red veins. Thin blonde hair was matted to her forehead with sweat, beads of moisture dripping down her face. She opened her mouth to speak, revealing rows of yellowed teeth.

  “Micasa, is it? A pleasure to meet you.” Silvia's bony jaw trembled as she spoke. It looked like every word was a labor for her. “I hope you find your way to the Peace of the Light.”

  “And to you as well,” I said back slowly. I extended a hand to shake, and she flinched away. Uraj caught my shoulder and pulled my hand back.

  “That would be unwise,” the Forge warned me. Silvia took a deep breath and sighed. Something in front of her face fogged up, and that was when I noticed the shine I had seen coming from her hood before was due to a layer of thin, transparent material covering the front of the cowl. I suddenly realized what Uraj was trying to tell me.

  “You're sick, aren't you, Lord Ordained?” I said.

  Silvia snorted, leaving another patch of fog on her face shield. “That's the understatement of a lifetime. But yes, in short, I am sick. Thank you for your concern, though.” She tried to smile, but it dissolved into a grimace. “And please, just call me Silvia. The proper way to address the Lord Ordained is 'Your Wisdom,' but trust me, there's nothing wise about me.”

  “Is this gonna be a problem, Uraj?” I asked the king, turning to him. “Silvia doesn't look in any shape for travel. How can she make the journey like this?”

  “The same way she always has,” Uraj said. A deep sadness crossed his face. “Micasa, you remember I said Silvia was a savant too, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well…” Uraj hesitated.

  “What he's trying to say,” Silvia cut in, “was that if being ill can be called a power, I'm not just a savant. I'm a bloody genius.”

  I looked to Uraj for an explanation. He shook his head.

  “Silvia has a unique immune system that makes her highly susceptible to becoming sick. Her body can't fight off infection, yet somehow her essence awoke long ago and kept her from succumbing to the illnesses she's contracted. Over time, she's acquired almost every disease known to man. Yet here she remains, still miraculously alive.”

  My curiosity piqued. Silvia could really use essence? She seemed so frail. I released some of my own energy and reached out to probe her soul.

  I immediately regretted the decision.

  Touching her, even with just my essence, felt like I had plunged my hand in a vat of sewage crawling with maggots. My soul jerked away instinctively, yet even with that brief brush I couldn't wipe away the feeling. I felt polluted, defiled.

  “Micasa!” Uraj cried out in alarm. I had stumbled back a few steps and recoiled from Silvia. I kept wiping my hands on my tunic, trying to scrub off the filthy feeling she had given me.

  “You have to be incredibly careful around her,” Uraj warned. “Her body is so ill that even his soul carries the corruption. It can spread to your essence too if you don't tread lightly.”

  I took a gasp of air and nodded. The warning would have been nice to have before I had gone ahead with it. Silvia pressed a hand against her face guard, her face a rictus of shame.

  “Please, Uraj, stop trying to stand up for me. You and I both know I'm a freak of nature, a disaster waiting to happen.” Her bloodshot eyes met mine. “He didn't tell you what they called me, back before I was appointed Lord Ordained, did he?”

  I shook my head. Silvia let out a dry laugh.

  “My old nickname was the Pestilence. Fitting, wouldn't you say?” She cackled again, the sound slowly devolving into wracking sobs. Uraj pulled me aside and whispered into my ear.

  “Before I found her, she had been wandering through the Old Kingdom trying to find someone who could cure her,” he explained. “She was so contagious that entire towns were being consumed by disease. I had to enlist Hawke's help to track down the cause. By the time we figured out she was the reason, her power had killed hundreds.”

  I gaped at Uraj. “And you let her just sit here in Liturgy!? What if it happens again?” I hissed.

  “Hawke thought much the same. He wanted to neutralize her. Said the power was far too dangerous to let run loose.”

  “I can't blame him, from what you've told me.”

  “And I can understand the reasoning.” Uraj took a glance at Silvia. The Lord Ordained was still wallowing in her despair. “But a person's power is born from circumstance as much as their own tendencies. Silvia is a woman who's had to fight odds I'd never wish on my worst enemy.”

  I wanted to argue that it didn't matter, that she was still too risky to keep around. Yet I thought of my own power, born in part from my desire to be free from slavery. What had Silvia had to undergo to manifest such a horrible power?

  “Does that robe keep her safe to be around?” I asked after some moments.

  “For the most part,” Uraj said. “Hawke
helped me design it. It's lined with powdered shinestone to help sort of filter her essence a bit. It's also airtight, though that means she has to open it up every so often or she'll suffocate.”

  I looked at Silvia. Sitting there, wrapped up tight in her patchwork black garb, she looked like a pile of trash ready to be taken out.

  Or a bomb waiting to go off.

  It was then I understood what Uraj had said earlier. “This is what you meant by bringing her as insurance,” I said. “You want to take Silvia to the Conclave as a last resort.”

  Uraj swallowed. “So you get it. Yes, for all the might the grinel possess, they're just as susceptible to disease as we are. They can sense the corruption in her, too. Simply having Silvia come along is better than any shield.”

  “And you're okay with that, Silvia?” I asked, turning to the sickly woman. “You want to just come along as a walking deterrent?”

  Her eyes met mine, and though she still looked on the verge of keeling over, there was something in her visage that I hadn't seen in him before. Conviction?

  “Ever since I got this power, I've been trying to find a reason to keep going on,” Silvia said to me. “I turned to drugs and alcohol, but they couldn't drown the pain. I turned to the Holy Tenet, but they took my pain and suffering as some sign that I was destined to lead them. They ignored my pleas for help. The only ones who truly did anything for me were Uraj and Hawke.”

  She stood, legs shaking, but she managed to straighten herself up. Even at full height, she was shorter than me.

  “If they can find a way to make use of this horror I've become,” she said, “that's more than enough for me.”

  I was so startled by her sudden declaration that I was left speechless briefly. When I found my voice again, I found myself smiling.

  “Then I'd be happy to work by your side. And I know Hawke will appreciate your effort, no matter what he says,” I said.

  For the first time, she managed a real smile. Like the rest of her, it was a sickly thing, but there was no doubt it was genuine. I realized that helping people like her was the real mission I was trying to accomplish with Hawke, to create a world where people like Silvia could have the chance to find the answers to their problems without having to hide.

  Maybe the Conclave would help us find some of those answers ourselves.

  * * *

  I found Hawke pacing back and forth in the square, pausing to tap his foot every so often. When he caught sight of me he rushed over.

  “Everything okay? You didn't catch anything from her, did you?” He fussed over me for a few seconds, as if he could tell at a glance if I had contracted something.

  “I'm fine,” I said, brushing him off. “You're overreacting. Silvia was a perfect lady.”

  “I'm sure.” Hawke rolled his eyes. “Is Uraj coming with us?”

  I shook my head. “He said he's decided to take Silvia back to Damkarei with him for protection. Apparently, Uraj is afraid that if the other savants do come seeking her out, they might try to attack her and take her nullstone away.”

  “Got it. Guess it's just us again?”

  “What, you miss him already?” I teased him as I fed Sir Brown Horse an apple.

  “I missed doing things the way we've been doing them for years.” Hawke took some time to take care of Restless. After the horses were ready, he hopped into the saddle.

  “I don't feel like staying here tonight,” he said. “I can only imagine what Liturgy's inns are like. You okay with riding for a few more hours before we set up camp?”

  I was fine with the idea. The moon was bright enough to find the road in the darkness, and a little nighttime riding would help me sort my thoughts. I climbed into my saddle, and soon we were making our way back to the main road.

  “So, what was Silvia's service like?” Hawke asked. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and smirked.

  “You should have been there for yourself. She gives quite the sermon.”

  Chapter 8: True Power

  According to Uraj, we had just shy of two months to get our group together for the Conclave when we first set out from Damkarei. Seven weeks to find the three rogue savants, subdue them, and get their nullstones, and find two more candidates to bring with us.

  We had used over a week of that time just getting to Liturgy and concluding our business there.

  Thankfully, with Uraj no longer travelling with us, we were able to pick up the pace considerably. Going from Damkarei on Astra's eastern coast to the Madness could take well over a month, but that was going at a leisurely pace. Hawke and I were familiar with moving quick when we needed to.

  We pushed our steeds harder than I'd have liked, going at full gallop for hours with only brief breaks. We had to slow our pace every other day to make sure we didn't run the poor horses to death, but by keeping up this rhythm we were able to cover far more distance than possible with an inexperienced rider in tow.

  The eastern edge of the Madness was bordered by a vast expanse of pine forest, planted long ago by the original settlers who had first encountered the Madness and survived. Somehow, it had weathered the years, despite being so close to the desert, and had expanded from Astra's northern coast to its southern. Just a week after departing Liturgy, we caught sight of a thin strip of pine green on the horizon. As we drew closer, the pointed tips of the trees began to fill in.

  A gust of wind buffeted into us as we stayed on course, and I caught whiff of something foul. The horses shied in fright, and Hawke's brow tightened.

  “You smell that?” he said. He looked around, as if to find the source, but we were alone as far as I could tell.

  “Yeah, but I can't quite place it,” I admitted.

  “It's the smell of blood. There's been a battle near here.” He took some time to calm Restless, who was looking ready to throw his rider off and bolt.

  We managed to calm the horses, and with no signs of fighting anywhere near us we had no choice to but to continue on. Hawke loosened Symphony in its sheath, and I made sure my short-sword was within reach, just in case.

  It didn't take long to find the source of the smell.

  We heard the sounds of the battle first. They rode in on the breeze, the clash of steel and the howls of the hurt and dying. The road dipped down into a shallow plain, and far ahead I finally caught a glimpse of multiple figures that had to be the fighters.

  One group was standing fast near the edge of the forest proper, about twenty strong, clad in muddy, ragged tunics and mismatched pieces of armor. They brandished a wide array of spears, axes, swords, and maces. More than a few of their weapons looked rusted to near uselessness.

  “Hawke,” I breathed, pointing towards the group, “it's the Mad Riders.” I'd have recognized the disheveled-looking band anywhere.

  “Yeah, but who's attacking them?” he wondered. I turned my attention to their assailants. There were almost twice as many as the Mad Riders had, and all of them carried themselves like they were no strangers to battle.

  I immediately assumed they were military, from the matching sandy colored tunics they wore. I had seen such uniforms before, from small militia groups in various kingdoms. They wore armor too, though where the Mad Riders could only bear what they scavenged, the attackers were clad in full leather with steel helms and pauldrons. The swords they brandished looked far more lethal than the hunks of scavenged steel and iron the brigands of the forest were waving around.

  The knee-high grass of the plain was already trampled and matted with blood. Several bodies littered the ground. A few wore the sandy uniforms, but far more bore the markings of the Mad Riders.

  The militiamen were pressing hard, but the bandits were managing to hold for the moment, peppering their attackers with arrows from the cover of trees and pressing with numbers against any who tried to break their lines. It was clear the attackers were well trained, though, and even as a couple more fell, it looked like only a matter of time before they broke through and slaughtered the Mad Riders com
pletely.

  “This is insane,” Hawke growled. “Banditry is bad enough, but humans outright killing other humans is too much. This has to stop.”

  “Hawke, defend the Mad Riders,” I said. “I'll take care of those soldier types.”

  He glanced at me, his face full of disapproval. “Those militiamen look well trained. It's too dangerous for you to go alone.” I stared back at him hard.

  “If you go in, you'll just end up killing them yourself. You know you can't hold back once you start fighting.”

  He stared at me for a second, looking like he was going to argue. Instead, he sighed.

  “Are you sure you'll be okay?”

  I gave him a grim smile. “I'll be fine. Just hold their attacks off and let me work.”

  We both dismounted and drew our blades. Hawke took a few steps forward.

  “I'll go first and distract them. Finish up quick, Micasa.”

  “I know my business, Hawke. Just go, hurry!”

  He sighed again, then bent to a crouch. With a leap he rocketed off the hillside, propelled by his essence, and soared through the air towards the fight. I started charging down the hill as Hawke let out a battle cry. The heads of soldier and bandit alike rose to watch as the bespectacled figure landed in their midst, his sword whirling around him.

  His demonstration gave everyone on the battlefield pause. None of the soldiers noticed the young woman charging forward just behind them. As I approached the one furthest back from the action, he caught sight of me and turned, brandishing a sword in his right hand. His expression was somewhere between confusion and amusement when he saw me heading straight for him.

  I decided to make sure he regretted his mistake.

  I swung my sword in a feint. He fell for it, bringing his own weapon up to deflect. I turned my blade at the last moment, and the soldier staggered a bit. That gave me the chance to slip by him.

  Your talent to manipulate locks is a foundation for your power. Your essence lets you take that talent and build upon it, expand it into uses that normally wouldn't be possible.