“Hysterics? Lady Lheona?” Genuine confusion laced Hawke's words. “That's not the same woman I remember. As long as I've known her, she's been, er…” Hawke fumbled with the last words, but Horace picked them up.
“Th' Iron Maiden? Nah, don' worry about that ol' name. Course no one here would call 'er that to 'er face, but we know she's been tough as nails since, 'ell, forever. No one knows why she became like she is now, but,” he nodded towards Hawke, “whatever it was, it has something to with you, milord.”
Our discussion had lasted all the way to the gate, still closed firm against the masses who were just now being parted by the few guards posted there to let us through. Horace paraded straight to the doors and gave them a series of sharp taps with his spear. A second later, a peephole slid open, occupied by a pair of suspicious eyes.
“Oy, some trader 'ere to peddle their crap?” came an irritated voice from the squinting eyes. Horace leaned in and whispered something, causing those eyes to bolt open in shock. The eyelet slammed shut, accompanied by the sound of something heavy sliding on the other side. With a mighty groan, the doors began to creak open, and immediately chaos started bubbling up as people pushed and shoved to try and get it.
“Quick, before it turns into a damn riot!” Bates barked at us, rushing to help his fellow guards in holding back the buzzing mob.
Without wasting another moment, Hawke urged Sir Brown Horse through the doors, which had scarcely opened wide enough to encompass us. The instant we had passed through, a group of guards on the inside started shoving the gates closed again. At one point, a dirty arm broke through the threshold, but a few jabs from the blunt end of a spear quickly prodded its owner away as the doors slammed shut with a bang. A large wooden crossbar was dropped into place, and the gates were secured once more.
The city residing inside such imposing walls was much plainer than I had been expecting. All the buildings were constructed of the same sandy stone that the city's walls were, with hardly a decoration to be found among them aside from the odd sign. The central area consisted of little more than a communal well and a couple empty benches. A few people wandered the streets, clad in dusty tunics and breeches, but aside from the occasional cursory glance, no one paid any mind to the newcomers in their midst.
“Sir, Lord Hawke is it?” One of the guards had approached us as I took in our surroundings, a woman wearing the same armor as her fellows outside and donning an iron helm. “I am Sergeant Diane Farhel. You are expected at the keep.”
“Expected?” Hawke blurted. “How could she? We just got here.”
“She's been expecting you every day for the last several years, sir,” Sergeant Farhel said matter-of-factly. “It seems today is the day those expectations are met.”
“Alright, but I won't meet her unless my young friend here is allowed also,” he said, motioning towards me. Farhel gave a curt nod.
“The Lady said nothing about you having to come alone. I have no reason to disagree. Now, if you'd be so kind as to follow me.”
The guard turned on her heels and marched down the street, pausing with a glance over her shoulder to see if we were indeed following. Hawke quickly nudged Sir Brown Horse into action, and soon we were traversing deep into the heart of Val'Hala.
Or at least I would call it the heart if there was any real action going on. Most of the town seemed to be practically deserted, with only the rare elderly citizen meandering somewhere or a child dutifully batting at some object with a wooden sword.
“Where is everyone?” I wondered aloud.
“It's drill time currently,” Farhel replied, not looking back as she walked on. “You'll see most of them when we reach the courtyard.” She pointed down the main street, where a tall keep stood in the distance, enclosed by yet another stone blockade. Sounds of clashing steel and the occasional shout could be heard from that direction, growing increasingly loud as we approached.
I sucked in my breath as we passed the arch leading towards the keep and entered the open grounds. What must have been thousands of people were grouped off into pairs and seemingly engaged in combat, wielding mostly blades with the occasional lance or mace or axe spotted here and there. Their movements were slower than what I had seen in previous fights I had beheld, rigid and practiced as each fighter seemed to take a turn attacking while the other blocked or parried before taking their own turn. Every so often a cry of pain would rise from somewhere, though there were so many people it was impossible to see from where it came.
“What are they doing?” I gasped.
“Training,” Farhel answered flatly.
“Everyone except children and the old serve in the military here,” Hawke further explained. “They practice here to hone their skills.”
“But some of them are getting hurt!” I exclaimed. Farhel let out a snort.
“The Lord and Lady believe live steel helps us take our training seriously. The only ones getting injured in such basic exercises are simply learning to be more alert the hard way.”
We strode through the training grounds to a flight of stairs leading straight to the doors of keep. A guard near the bottom took the reins of our steed while Hawke helped me down.
“Your horse will be well kept in the stables while you're away, Lord Hawke,” assured the guard before turning to lead Sir Brown Horse back through the training grounds. Hawke took me by the hand and started up the stairs, Farhel still leading the way as we climbed higher and higher. I fought the urge to look back, knowing all too well how far we had ascended, but I could picture the throng of trainees looking like ants from where we were.
At the top stood another pair of doors, wrought in dark studded iron this time. A pair of guards flanked the entrance but readily opened the doors with a short gesture from Farhel. We started to make our way in, but Farhel stood fast near the threshold. As Hawke passed her, she leaned in and whispered sharply.
“Watch yourself.”
Hawke paused for the briefest moment but only to give her a small nod before urging me to head in.
I was expecting the foyer of the keep to be bare-bones utilitarian, much like everything else in the city so far. You can imagine my surprise, then, as my sandaled feet sunk into a plush carpet lining the hallway lined with polished marble columns that shone in the light radiating off of several crystal chandeliers hanging far overhead. The walls of the passage were adorned with paintings of the same grim looking man dressed from the shoulders down in a bronzed suit of armor, his greying hair cropped short and face set in a perpetual sneer.
A lone hallway led out of the foyer straight ahead, weakly lit by wallmounted candles. The end of the corridor was nowhere in sight. With only one way to proceed, we made our way through the passage in silence.
The walls seemed to slowly close in on us the further we walked, a growing feeling of claustrophobia creeping inside me. I let out an audible sigh of relief when I saw the bright lights coming from a room just ahead. As we passed into the chamber, a voice cracked the stillness.
“Attention!”
A contingent of over a dozen guards snapped to the ready, spears held at their side. They stood in rows to either side of us all the way to a raised dais upon which two great thrones stood, carved from some beautiful polished wood. In one of those thrones sat a woman clad in a dress of the deepest blue I had ever seen, her face hidden behind a hand she was leaning upon. The guards made no move, so Hawke took my hand once more and cautiously tread towards the dais. I had time to marvel at the brilliant torches that lined the walls, set inside crystal orbs that diffused the light until the room was bright as day – exceedingly useful, considering not a single window adorned the walls to let in even the barest sliver of sunlight.
As we drew close to the foot of the throne, I got a better look at the woman sitting there. Her golden flaxen hair had been done up in a complicated braid that draped over her shoulder. Her dress was simple yet immaculate, perfectly tailored to showcase the gentle curves of her body. As she raise
d her head from her hand to regard us, I could see lines in her face suggesting her to be a fair bit older, yet there was no denying the beauty in her high cheekbones and small sharp nose. Her eyes, a gentle jade green, would have been lovely too had they not been puffy and red, and tears were still visibly streaking down those elegant cheeks of hers as she looked between the two of us.
'You've…you've finally come!” she managed to choke out, her voice wracked with emotion. “Quickly! Come here and take this wretched thing from me!” She pulled at a thin cord draped around her neck that disappeared into the neck of her dress. Hawke took a step forward, then halted.
“First, my Lady, I ask if you would please answer some questions,” he said. Her eyes practically bulged from her head.
“NO!” Lady Lheona screamed. Her guards visibly started but remained at attention, while her fingers began to dig into the armrests of her throne. Hawke remained stoic, though.
“I need some simple answers, my Lady. Until you do, I can't help you.”
I didn't understand what Hawke was trying to do. Obviously, this woman had part of his essence, so why he would suddenly play this game was beyond me. Lheona also seemed confused, biting her lip as she began to rock back and forth.
“Fine, you have three. Then you take this thing away or so help me…” she snarled, looking as if she'd lose control at any moment. Hawke agreed with a slight bow.
“Three is plenty. First, where is Lord Othenius at the moment?”
“Away on training,” she dismissed immediately with a wave of her hand. “You know how rare it is for him to be here; things are no different now than they ever have been. Question two,” she demanded.
“Okay, I've heard a group of gypsies has been seen nearby. Is that true?” This time the Lady recoiled in her seat and blanched.
“Yes, they're a couple days or so to the west, just off the main road!” Fear overtook her countenance as she started rambling, “You tell her I kept my end of the deal! Every day for all these blasted years, I never once removed it! She has no reason to place her curse on me! Promise me you'll tell her!”
Hawke blanched at her words but composed himself quickly. “I promise I'll relay your message, my Lady. My last question is, may I approach?”
She looked confused for a second, but when she realized what he was getting at she nodded with enthusiasm befitting a child.
“Yes, yes, by all means, take this already!” Her eyes fluttered towards me for a second before she quickly added, “She may not, though. Only you.” Hawke looked at me from the corner of his eye.
“You'll be okay, Micasa. Just sit tight, alright?” he said. I nodded, uneasy with having to be near so many armed strangers. All I could do is trust that we'd be on our way quickly.
“Okay then.” Hawke took a deep breath and marched straight up the dais to the mad woman. She was looking at him with such feverish anticipation her whole body trembled.
“If I may have your hand,” Hawke requested softly, offering his own. In a flash, she grasped his arm with both hands, giving me just enough time to clamp my eyes shut before the room was filled with blinding light.
The guards cried out in surprise, and when the light faded it was obvious I was the only one who was expecting this as the guards furiously rubbed at their eyes in an attempt to clear them. For that, I was the only one who saw as Hawke slowly withdrew his hand, sucking in deep breaths while his eyes flickered around wildly.
Lady Lheona, on the other hand, had made a complete turn in demeanor. She calmly brushed an errant tear from her face and looked at it, as if trying to understand what it was.
Slowly the guards around us were starting to blink the glare away, looking expectantly towards their liege and my guardian. The Lady closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When they opened, she was staring straight at me, her expression like stone.
“Seize her.”
Chapter 17: The Wild Man
The manacles were on me before I even had time to register what she had said. No matter what else was thought of these guards, the one thing you couldn't call them was slow to follow orders. I hadn't noticed them step up in the slightest, nor did I even see where they had kept their cuffs hidden. Now I could feel the cold iron biting into my wrists as my arms were locked rigidly behind my back.
“Micasa!” Hawke cried out from his place near the Lady. He took a step forward, stopping when the rest of her contingency formed up in front of him as a barricade, with two of them remaining behind to watch over me.
Their mistress stood from her seat and straightened her dress. She brushed away the last of the tears that had been covering her face with indifference, leaving scarcely a trace of the hysterical person who had been shrieking at us just moments ago. Her face was a mask, passive yet terrifying, and she regarded the both of us as if she wouldn't have cared if we dropped dead on the spot.
“Now that all that's been dealt with, there's still the matter of what to do with you, Morau,” she droned. Hawke's eyes flickered to her but returned to me promptly. His breath was coming in heaving gasps, and even from where I stood I could tell he was sweating hard. Never before had I seen Hawke look so irritated, neither when I had been tortured by Scab Kahlot nor when he confronted the murderous Killer Mapta. It was a look of desperation.
Something inside me snapped when I saw how he worried. I was done with standing back and watching Hawke try to solve all of our problems. There had to be something I could do, even in these manacles.
The manacles! It was like a fire sparked in my heart when I realized my fortune. I had been wriggling myself free of them since before I knew what my power truly was, and now the opportunity had come for me to make use of my practice. I shifted my arms a bit, getting a feel for the bindings. Yes, they were well made, but nothing terribly intricate or altogether different from what I had worked with before. It would only take me a second to shrug them off. I could already feel the latches begin to loosen even as I thought about it.
“MICASA!”
A roar came that stopped me in my tracks. The guards, too, stepped away in surprise, and even the Lady's countenance broke as she struggled to compose herself. Hawke was staring at me like a mad beast. I was completely taken aback; the man I knew as Hawke Morau was composed at all times, even in the most dire of situations. The man who was looking at me now was full of anguish and looked like he might strike out at the slightest provocation.
“REMEMBER THE SANDWICH MAN!” he shouted again, so loud and strained I might not have believed he had said it if I hadn't been watching his lips move.
Remember the Sandwich Man? I tried to remember what the saying meant. In the intensity of the moment, it took a few seconds to recall what he had told me so long ago: don't use your power recklessly. Somehow, he had known what I was about to do and was adamant that I didn't free myself from captivity. Why would he bring that up right now, though?
It only took a little consideration to understand what he was trying to tell me. If I unlocked the shackles now, I still had almost no chance of escaping the guards flanking me, and knowing that I could free myself they might do something more drastic to keep me under control. In the worst case, they might kill me. My desire to take action almost put me in an even worse situation than we were already in.
My eyebrows raised at my realization, and Hawke slowly nodded once. It seemed like he had a plan. Once again, to my frustration, I had to wait and watch and hope that he could find a way out of this mess.
Lady Lheona had recovered from her brief shock and crossed her arms. A slight smirk played on her face at Hawke's distress. “I don't know what you're babbling about, Morau, but this girl obviously is worth a lot to you. Is she the gypsy's whelp? She certainly has the look of it.” One of her graceful hands rose into the air. “With a snap of my fingers, my soldiers would end her life right here. What do you think I should do?”
“I think you should consider your own position,” Hawke snarled. I didn't even know he could snarl. “
I'm right here next to you and armed. If anything happened to Micasa, your own life would be forfeit.” His hand already hovered over the hilt peeking out from his side.
“True, I know how quick you are with a blade. I'm no fool to think I'm stronger than you, but will you risk this Micasa's life over it?” Her hand quavered as if she meant to snap, and Hawke visibly flinched. This elicited a cold chuckle from the Lady.
“Oh, how easy it is to read you now. Fine, I'll make you a deal. If you promise to toss your sword aside, I'll call off the guards from your little follower. Fair enough?”
Hawke seemed to think this over for a good while, his eyes darting feverishly over the guards while his mind seemed to be working something out. At last. he nodded.
“Fine, but call them off first.”
“Of course.” Lheona waved her hands at the soldiers beside me, who broke off at once and joined their fellows around Hawke. Once he seemed assured of my immediate safety, he slowly pulled the sheathed sword out of the sash where it hung.
“No stupid moves now,” warned the Lady, poising a hand towards his head as if it were a weapon.
“Wouldn't dream of it,” he said. He dropped it at his feet, and a quick nudge from his foot sent it skittering across the stone, where it came to rest a few yards away.
“Wonderful,” cooed Lheona. She turned to her guard. “Keep your spears trained on him. Attack at will if he shows any sign of resistance.” The squadron approached my companion with trepidation, the tips of their weapons converging on his throat until they formed a deadly collar around his neck. Lady Lheona seemed content with this and stepped off the dais towards me.
“Now the question remains of what to do with you,” she said. I thought she was talking to me, but she cast a glance over her shoulder at Hawke before returning her focus to me. “My dear Othenidus would surely love to have a few words with you, but I've been considering some ways to try and kill an immortal. I'm sorely tempted to try a few. What do you think–”
Broken Soul (The Scholar's Legacy Book 1) Page 21
