“What do they do with it?” I asked.
Hawke shrugged. “Live? It's unclear where they even do that, though. The only thing I know for certain is their leader is some eccentric geriatric.”
“A what what?”
“Crazy old person.” Hawke sighed. “Which is exactly how I feel right now. Enough of this, Micasa. I need a bath, Sir Brown Horse needs a rub down, and we could both probably use a meal that isn't cold and dry.”
As if to answer him, my stomach practically roared. It was so unexpected I jumped, which made Hawke chuckle. I couldn't help but laugh too after that, mostly in relief that he was lightening up a bit.
He vaulted off our horse and helped me down, handing the reins to the Baron. “Take good care of him, my fine fellow,” he instructed. “Make sure he's rubbed down, and well fed and rested for tomorrow.”
“Uh, yes, Lord.” replied the bemused Baron. I doubt he had ever been ordered around so much in such a short time in his life. Still, he held his tongue as Hawke led me inside, waving weakly as the door closed and hid him from sight at last.
The innkeep was waiting behind the desk, a willowy man who seemed to be expecting our arrival. He smiled so wide I thought his head would cleave in two and held out his arms in welcome.
“My dear Lord! The Baron sent someone along to let me know you were coming! Allow me to welc–”
Hawke strode across the room as the man gave his long-winded welcome and put his finger over the innkeep's mouth, shushing him the same way he might a child.
“Draw two baths. Get a meal ready. Tell me which room we'll find these things in.” Hawke snapped his orders in monotone, eyes half-lidded with fatigue and exasperation. After a moment he pulled his finger back to let the man speak.
“R-room twelve has already been made ready for you, m-milord.”
“Good.” Hawke reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of coins, slapping them onto the counter without so much as checking how much he had given him. “Now hush times. Micasa.”
He bade me to follow with a twitch of his finger, walking with heavy steps towards the stairs. I looked to the bewildered innkeep with the sorriest look I could muster and gave him a brief bow before running to catch up with my friend.
Lord Carash hadn't been lying about the room; it was easily the nicest one we had been in since our adventure had begun. Resplendent sapphire rugs carpeted a rich mahogany floor littered with beautiful handcrafted furniture. Two beds sat against one wall, covered with deep blue quilts and sheets that complimented the rugs well. Against the other wall sat a large, soft looking couch covered in ivory pillows. Above it hung an oil painting showing a quaint countryside village, possibly even the one we were in now.
Hawke unceremoniously dumped the bags he had dragged in with him on the couch and shuffled to where two doors stood side by side. He peeked in each one, nodding approval before finally turning to me.
“At the least, they understood my request well enough. You can go wash up in that room.” He nodded towards the door to my left. “I'll be right over here in case you need me.” I smiled and nodded, which seemed to be enough of an answer for him. He returned the smile weakly and trudged through the door on the right.
The bathing room was something of an oddity to me too. The room was nearly as large as our sleeping quarters, but over half the space was devoted to a wooden pit that was currently full of steaming hot water. Against the wall lay various bottles, which upon my exploration were revealed to be full of heavy scented oils and perfumes.
“What are these?” I wondered aloud as I found one that smelled of cinnamon and pine.
“I assume you mean the bath oils.”
I was startled by the voice from nowhere but recognized it quickly as Hawke's.
“Where are you?” I looked around for wherever his phantom voice had drifted from.
“The bathhouse next door. There's a slit in the wall so we can speak. You're supposed to put the oils in the water to scent it. Just don't dump too much in.”
I did as he said, trying a few splashes of the cinna-pine scent. As it mixed with the water, the soothing fragrance began to fill the room.
“Wow, it worked!” I cried as I prepared to slip into the tub. I could hear Hawke's amused laugh from the room opposite.
“Sometimes I forget how little you've gotten to experience in life so far, Micasa,” Hawke reflected. “I've never known someone to get so excited over something like a scented bath.”
The water was blissfully hot, helping me to scrub off the dirt and weariness from the road. The water slowly grew murky as I sluiced the last dregs of travel off me. As much as I enjoyed our journey, I equally appreciated those moments when I got to experience what civilization had to offer.
“Are you okay, Hawke?” I finally ventured when I felt he had had enough time to unwind a bit as well.
“Mmm,” he grunted. “Odd as it may sound, that kind of reception isn't new to me. It doesn't happen much in the Fertile Lands, though. Not many recognize me by face over there. Guess I spent so long there I forgot to expect this coming home.” I heard a splash and could just picture Hawke throwing water in his face to try and wash away the weariness.
“Everyone seems friendly, though,” I said.
“They're expectant,” he corrected me. “They're assuming I'm here to do things for them because of my status.” Another splash of water. “I've always done what I can to help people, but it gives the impression that they don't have to do anything for themselves. They completely stop trying, and before long I'm shouldered with a burden I never agreed to carry anyways.”
“Well, they can do their own work then.” I fumed at the unfairness of the situation he described.
“They should, and they'll have to. If they can't stand on their own feet, it doesn't matter what I do.” A few more splashes. “Anyways, there's little I can do until I get my essence back. They're just going to have to get along without me for now.”
We finished out baths and emerged from the chambers dressed in some wool lined bathrobes they had supplied us. We were greeted with a banquet that looked like most of the inn's kitchen had been dropped in our room, or at least onto a table they had dragged in while we were bathing. Ham, fish, and a quarter dozen different fowls sat steaming in the middle of the table, surrounded by fried potatoes and bowls of fruit and heaps of rice. It was a meal fit for five times our number.
“Wow, overboard much,” Hawke agreed with my thoughts as he let out another massive sigh. “Well, we better eat as much as we can stomach. I'd hate for so much food to go to waste.”
What should have been a delightful meal was instead reduced to a chore as we stuffed ourselves full to bursting on just about every dish on offer. Only the dried food and fruit lay untouched; we figured we could save that for much, much later.
Retiring to our respective beds, we lay groaning in bloated pain until I slipped into a nightmare-riddled food coma. It was only a few hours later that I was shaken from such a state.
“…on't eat me, potato salad!” is all I remember blurting out as I was roused. Hawke pressed his finger gently to my lips while making shushing noises, and I noticed he had already changed into his white shirt and red kilt.
“Let's not wake anyone else if we can help it,” he whispered. He handed my things to me and started shoveling the leftover food from the night before into one of his own travel sacks. “We should get a move on as soon as we can.”
“But I'm tired,” I grumbled. Nonetheless, I rummaged through my pack and grabbed the first robe I laid hands on.
“I know, I'm sorry. We'll grab a nap later on, but I want to be gone long before sunrise.” His gear was already slung over his shoulder, and he stood bouncing on the balls of his feet next to the door. I had barely shrugged into my robe when Hawke cracked the door open ever so carefully, looking around for anyone who might be watching.
“We're good, let's go,” he hissed, stepping out the door and impatiently beckoning me
to follow. He all but pushed me through the inn as I struggled to wake up, straight out the front door and towards the stables nearby. A heavy padlock held the doors shut for the night.
“If you would be so kind,” Hawke requested, tapping on the device. Even as groggy as I was, the lock posed little problem for me and I snapped it open after a few seconds of playing around with a hairpin. Sir Brown Horse was sleeping without a care beneath a blanket draped across his back, and I felt a pang of jealousy for the lucky beast.
Hawke roused our steed and calmed it with a pear from our stocks, loading our things as the horse crunched through pulp and core alike. It was only a couple minutes after we had cracked the door to the stables that we were saddled up and trotting down the road out of town.
“What was the rush for?” I whined as the last few businesses passed us and the road opened to scrubby brush and packed dirt. Hawke rubbed my shoulder apologetically.
“Waiting until morning would have made taking our leave difficult,” he explained. “The longer we stayed, the more likely they were to try and get me to do some inane task for them. Better to leave in the dead of night with bleary eyes than try to wade through half a town after sunrise.”
I was still half-asleep, and the rhythmic plodding of Sir Brown Horse was making me drowsier. I was too tired to even look at where we were heading, but as I drifted off I did think about how often Hawke must have done this in the past. I thought that everyone adoring your presence would be wonderful, yet from the way he had acted through our short stay in Blanc, I could tell that there was still a lot I didn't know about the life Hawke had lived before I met him.
My bloated stomach growled angrily at me, though, and I decided that those questions could wait. There was still a night of restless riding awaiting me.
Chapter 12: The Half-Man
Scrub and brush. Weed and dirt. That was all that seemed to lay ahead as we continued our travels westward towards whatever pull Hawke was feeling. The landscape was much more barren than the Fertile Lands we had come from, yet it was nowhere as inhospitable as the Madness. Though the plants were scruffy and dry, they were abundant, and there was plenty of evidence of wildlife flourishing in these parts. I spent most of our time on horseback watching as strange animals I had never seen before hopped and trotted around the arid land we wandered through. Occasionally one would stare at our group as we trundled on, but they would scurry for shelter if we so much as drew within a stone's throw of them.
A few days after we had left Blanc, Hawke grabbed my attention and pointed into the distance. Though it was far off, I could clearly see a small lumpy shape on the horizon the color of the setting sun.
“There,” he proclaimed, as if that told me anything. When I responded by looking at him mutely, he coughed and continued. “I feel the pull from the Ururu. I get the feeling that's where we're destined.”
“The what-a-what?” I said befuddled. He looked at me through narrow eyes for a moment.
“Micasa, you have been reading all the books I gave you, yes?” he asked me slowly.
“Of course,” I answered just as slowly, though my averted gaze told a different story. He sighed and rolled his eyes.
“I really should be keeping a closer eye on your reading,” he chastised himself. “Well, that mountain is the largest natural landmark in the country. It's called the Ururu Mountain, and it so happens that a friend of mine likes to stay near there.” His eyes were fixated on the distant shape with anticipation.
“Ooh, what are they like?” Seeing Hawke getting excited at the prospect of meeting with someone wasn't common, so it tickled my curiosity.
“You'll see when we get there. He's something else.” Hawke urged Sir Brown Horse to a canter as we started towards the new landmark.
“Do you think he'll have your essence?” I asked.
“Quite possible,” he admitted, “but more importantly, he's more likely than the others we've encountered to give me some real answers. There are still too many things I don't understand about my plight. I only hope there aren't any complications.”
Complications were just about the only sure thing the holders of Hawke's essence promised, if our previous encounters were any indication. On the other hand, this was the first time Hawke had referred to someone as an actual friend, so my hopes were buoyed that things would be different this time.
With the formation in sight, I assumed that it would only take us a few hours to reach our destination. My surprise continued to grow with each passing day, as the shape loomed ever larger yet still remained beyond our reach. It was only after a week of travel that we finally stood at the base of the mountain. I tried to crane my neck so I could see the top of the massive rock, but I had to lay on my back to have any chance of doing so.
“So where's your friend?” I asked as I reclined on the hard ground and surveyed the towering monolith glowing red in the afternoon sun. Hawke scratched his chin and glanced sideways at me.
“Not terribly sure where he might be, but the pull is coming from the top of the mountain. It might be him, might not. Either way, we're going to have to find a way up.” He began to scan the stony walls for some sort of pathway that could take us to the top. I was less than confident in my ability to scale the sheer cliff face, and even less certain of Sir Brown Horse's ability to do so.
“Why don't we just take the ladder?”
“Huh?” Hawke snapped up from his search.
“The ladder. Right over there.” I pointed to our left, where far in the distance there was some sort of structure that yawned towards the sky. Without another word, he took the horse by the reins and left to examine it, only pausing to make sure I had time to hop off the ground and catch up.
My assumption that it was a ladder turned out incorrect, but I wasn't too far off. We were met with a series of wooden ramps set in scaffolding that had been erected straight up the mountain's face, crisscrossing upwards. It was difficult to tell, but it looked like it led all the way to the summit.
“Strange,” Hawke muttered while prodding at one of the scaffold's wooden supports. “This looks almost identical to those ramps we found in the Madness.”
He was right. The same structures that let us descend into that eventful valley were a perfect match for the walkway we now stood before. My companion grabbed the support he had been touching gingerly and gave it a brisk shake with all his strength. It groaned and wobbled ever so slightly, but the ramp held firm.
“I think it's safe enough,” declared Hawke. He grabbed a few packs from our mount and shouldered them. “It might not be the best idea to bring Sir Brown Horse with us though. The less weight the better.” He tied the horse's reins to the beams and gave him a feedbag of oats to munch. I grabbed a few of my own things and gave Sir Brown Horse one last affectionate pat before we started our march up the construct.
It didn't take long for me to decide that we had made a terrible mistake. This decision came to me after we had cleared about twenty floors and I thought to look and see how far we had come. That moment in my life was my introduction to my fear of heights. I stood bolted to where I was, eyes locked on the ground far below me.
“What's wrong?” Hawke asked, his voice marking him as somewhere part way up the next ramp. I was too transfixed on the precipitous drop before me to turn and answer him. After a few seconds, his hands took hold of my shoulders and turned me gently until my fixed gaze was focused on him.
“It's okay. Do you want to go back down?” he offered, his voice full of concern. I couldn't bring myself to speak, but I shook my head. At that point, I felt I would be sick if I tried to head back the way we came.
“Well, would you like me to carry you then?” he suggested. I thought about it for a moment, but I didn't trust myself not to panic and flail about in his grip. Images of me dragging the both of us over the edge and into the abyss floated to mind, and I shook my head more vigorously than before. Hawke sighed and scratched his head.
“I don't think st
aying here will help,” he said. His eyes were wandering around as he doubtless thought of a way to fix the situation. I swallowed the nausea that was swimming up my throat and gave my own suggestion.
“Lead m-me up there.” I was astonished at how badly my voice shook. “Here.” I took his hand, my own trembling as badly as my voice was. “I-I'll keep my eyes shut. That sh-should help.”
He took a firm hold of me and nodded. “Okay, okay,” he cooed, brushing his fingers through my hair. It helped calm me, if only a little. “I'll get us up there no problem. Just stay close.”
His promise in mind, I took a deep shuddering breath and exhaled slowly. With my nerves as calmed as I figured they would get, I let my eyelids drop and gave in to the safety of my personal darkness. I felt the wood underfoot creak a bit as Hawke stood back up and tugged on my hand gently, and we started once more up the walkway.
Walking without looking where I was going was not anything I would have called enjoyable. The bizarre disconnect between the feeling of moving and the lack of visual feedback was somewhat sickening and not helped in the least by my knowledge of what lay just to the side. Still, Hawke kept a tight grip on my hand as we wound up ramp after ramp. I tried to keep myself occupied by keeping count of how many floors we were clearing, but I lost track after a hundred or so. Yet still we continued to climb.
A soft, random tune began to float through the air. It took me a second to realize it was Hawke humming to himself. Even though I had no idea what the song was, just hearing his voice as he drifted through the music helped take my mind off of our rapid ascent. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself humming right along with him. Our tunes were completely different, but he didn't falter as we composed our bizarre duet.
“Micasa, you can open your eyes now.”
I was so intent on my aimless humming that I hadn't even noticed that we had stopped moving. I took a chance to peek out of my own eyelids, gasping at the sight that befell me.
Broken Soul (The Scholar's Legacy Book 1) Page 15
