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

by Joshua Buller

  On the other hand, I had made acquaintance with his wife and co-ruler, Lady Lheona. When Hawke and I first set foot in Val'Hala during our quest for Hawke's scattered essence, I ended up being taken hostage for a brief time, before Hawke used his immense power to allow us to escape.

  Even after some six years, neither of us found it likely that that event had been forgotten, especially by Lheona. So just like last time, we made sure to give it as much space as we could.

  That ended up adding another two days to our journey, and all of our detours were making Hawke visibly irritated. After our run-in with Bojangles, he had become much more interested in meeting with Uraj than he had when we first set out. Hawke may have had a lot of disagreements with Uraj in the past, but underneath his obvious dislike, it was clear they had been through too much together in the past for him to not be concerned.

  Finally, we managed to put enough distance between ourselves and Val'Hala that we felt safe turning back to the main road and riding it the last leg of the journey. Once on the Astral Road, we made much better time, and it only took a couple of days after that before we caught sight of the ocean.

  Damkarei was one of the few cities in Astra that rested at the edge of the continent. Hawke had told me cities were rarely built on the coast to keep people from falling victim to grinel pirates, who sometimes sailed vessels along the coastlines in hopes of finding easy plunder. The idea of grinel pirates sounded terrible enough for me, but when Hawke made an offhand remark about worse things that lived in the ocean, I decided that I wasn't as crazy about visiting the beach as I was the first time I had gone.

  Immediately, I noticed that there had been some sizable renovations to the city since our last visit, namely the massive wall that had been erected around it. When we originally came here, the city had been wide open to any travellers who wanted to taste what the capital of Astra had to offer. Now we found ourselves queueing up behind a fair-sized crowd that waited before the gate, a sturdy barricade of wood that had yet to see the marring of time.

  “We could be here all day,” Hawke muttered at the sight of the throng. Tents could be seen scattered around the base of the walls, suggesting that some of these people had possibly been waiting days to get in.

  “I don't mind,” I said. Sir Brown Horse snorted in agreement under me, and I gave him a pet. He'd started going a bit grey, but he was as trusty now as he had been when we made our first journey to Damkarei.

  Hawke's horse, though, stamped impatiently and champed at his bit. Hawke had picked him up when I had grown big enough to ride a horse by myself. He was a good, strong horse with a fine coat the color of cream, but tended to act a bit unruly and temperate around others. Hawke had taken to calling him Restless, though I couldn't help but feel the beast was just picking up habits from its owner.

  “I'm with Restless,” said Hawke. “First Uraj's summons, then that freak meeting with Bojangles, and now we show up to find Damkarei remodeled for a siege. We need to get in there.”

  Hawke cast a look around, easily able to see over the heads of the crowd from horseback. After a moment, he urged Restless around the people and towards an armored figure holding a lance.

  “Excuse me, sir!” Hawke said loudly, his voice cutting above the murmurs of the refugees. The guard turned his head, scowling at my companion, but Hawke only pulled himself up straighter and lifted his chin.

  “Tell whoever mans the gate that King Morau has returned to Damkarei!” he declared in his most regal sounding voice. I had to hide a snicker behind my hand, doubly so at the guard's blank stare.

  “Uh, you're joking, right?” the guard said. “Lord Hawke hasn't been here in over a decade.”

  I was about to argue that we'd been here more recently than that, only to remember that no one knew he had returned when we last saw Uraj. Hawke's reply was to shoot him a glare so fierce the man visibly wilted.

  “Do I look like the type of man who would joke about that!?” he barked. “Does Captain Dagon of the guard still hold post here?”

  “Y-yessir,” the guard replied meekly. Even with his skepticism, he didn't look keen on challenging Hawke's claim.

  “Then bring him here at once! He'll vouch for me!”

  Hawke waved his hand in dismissal, and the guard turned and scurried through the crowd, towards the gate.

  A buzz of conversation had started spreading through the people, all of them casting furtive glances at Hawke. He kept his composure, but a slight flush of red crept up his face. Hawke was never one who liked to flaunt his old position, so much did he enjoy his privacy, so for him to do so now meant he was dead serious about getting in as quick as possible.

  It took about fifteen minutes before the guard reappeared with a small squadron led by a grim fellow with a shaved head that gleamed in the sun, a short-cropped graying beard framing his scowl. The other guards mostly wore leather armor with iron helms, but the man I took for Captain Dagon was decked out for war, with full steel plate and chainmail. He forwent the spears of the footmen in favor of a longsword sheathed at his side. His hand rested on the hilt as if expecting trouble.

  “Captain, it's good to see you again,” Hawke called out. The soldiers stopped at attention while Dagon continued forward until he stood right next to Hawke. The old captain squinted at my companion for a moment before letting out a grunt.

  “So, it is you,” Dagon said, his voice scratchy from years of giving commands. “I half-thought Noel was making some fool's joke when he told me you came strolling up to the gates and demanded entrance.”

  If Hawke took offense to the casual manner with which the captain spoke to him, he didn't show it. “Uraj sent me a missive requesting my aid,” said Hawke.

  “Where is it then?” asked Dagon.

  “I burnt it after I got it.”

  “A likely story.”

  “You think I'd chance letting something like that fall into enemy hands?” Hawke leveled a cool gaze at the captain. Dagon squinted again, his lips curling back slightly to reveal clenched teeth.

  “Hmph. Fortunately for you, Lord Uraj has informed me of his summons,” he said through his grimace. “Come with me quickly, or I'll inform the king that you've changed your mind and left.”

  “Charming as always, Captain. Lead the way.”

  The guards began clearing a way through the crowd for us. Some of them looked confused and affronted, but many more still gladly stepped aside as they looked at Hawke with wonder. Doubtless, they were awed at seeing one of the Old Kings in the flesh.

  When I reined up beside Hawke, Dagon shot me a dirty look.

  “Who's the girl?” he said.

  “My ward, Micasa,” replied Hawke. “Uraj knows her already.”

  “The king made no mention to me of your 'ward.' ” The captain said the last word as if he had something else he wanted to call me.

  “If you have a problem with it, Captain, you can address it to me personally.” Hawke grabbed hold of Symphony's hilt and loosened the sword in its scabbard. Dagon's face reddened, and his hand twitched towards his own hilt. After a second of awkward silence, he let out a hiss.

  “As you will, milord,” he managed to choke out.

  With an impatient gesture, Dagon bade a couple of his soldiers to open the gate. We hurried our mounts through as the guards struggled to hold back the crowd trying to get in, and the moment the captain and we were inside, the gates were promptly slammed shut and barred.

  It was just like visiting Val'Hala all over again. What had changed that made Uraj so paranoid about outsiders?

  “The king will be expecting you immediately,” said Dagon. He started at a brisk pace down the main thoroughfare, but Hawke made no move to follow. When the captain realized, he turned and scowled again. It seemed to be his answer for everything.

  “We've just made a long journey, and I think Micasa and I would both be better for the meeting if we had a chance to make ourselves presentable,” said Hawke. Dagon's brow furrowed.

&
nbsp; “The king said to bring you at once,” he insisted.

  “Need I remind you that I am also a king here, Captain?” Hawke said with a hint of chill to his voice.

  “Are you truly?” Dagon asked. A snarl passed his lips. “It's quite convenient that you disappear for years on end, only to show up when strange things start happening in the countryside.”

  “Strange things?” Hawke said, surprised. “What exactly has been happening around here?”

  “I'm sure that's what the king - the real king - wishes to discuss with you,” said Dagon. “Go then, get yourself ready. I'll be expecting you at the castle portcullis in an hour.” Dagon started to leave but paused and glanced over his shoulder. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only shook his head and stomped away, his armor rattling with every step.

  “Does everyone you used to know have a problem with you?” I asked when I was sure the captain was out of earshot.

  “Seems that way,” he said, “though I have no idea what he suspects me of. I guess we better freshen ourselves up quick. As much as I'd like to just march into the castle, I don't want to drag half the Old Kingdom in with us.”

  It was true, we were packing a layer of grime that would make a dirt road blush. Whatever may have happened to Uraj, the militia was still clearly devoted to him, and they might've not taken it well if we burst in accusing him of being manipulated while looking like a pair of homeless vagabonds. I mean, we were a pair of homeless vagabonds, but that was beside the point.

  It didn't take long to find a nearby inn, but it did take some work to get ourselves free of the throng of people that had started to congregate around us. Word of the return of the missing Old King appeared to have spread, and everyone was looking to show their excitement. The poor stable boy looked ready to pass out when we handed him the reins to our horses, and the mob nearly took the door off the hinges as we fought our way inside.

  “Micasa, do something or we won't be going anywhere anytime soon,” Hawke gasped as he fought to hold the door shut against half the town.

  I touched the doorknob, calling on my essence. The power welled up inside me, a visceral rush that filled every cell in my body. I focused on the door, and a loud click filled the air.

  “I don't think just locking it will hold them back,” said Hawke.

  “Oh, probably not,” I agreed. “That's why I locked the door to the whole frame. They'd have to pull down the wall to get through.” Hawke looked at me dumbfounded for a second, then relinquished his hold on the door.

  “Right, I should've expected as much from you,” he said, quickly apologizing. I brushed it off and turned to the room at large.

  Thankfully, nobody occupied the small lobby, its stuffed chairs empty and the fireplace cold. It was a single-story building with a small help desk alcoved next to a lone hallway that led to the rooms. Behind the desk stood the proprietor, who looked like she couldn't decide whether to be ecstatic or terrified at her new guests.

  “W-welcome to the Seaside Inn!” she said, her eyes growing wider and her smile pulling at her face. I guessed she was siding with being ecstatic. “W-will you be staying long, milord?”

  “Only popping in for a quick bath and something to eat, if you please,” Hawke told her as he approached the counter. He pulled a handful of ruples from his travel sack and threw them on the counter. It was easily enough money to afford a month's stay, but with all the work we did with the family and how little we spent, it wasn't any great loss. A tick developed in her eye at the sight of the coins scattering everywhere.

  “Yes, of course!” she squeaked. “I'll have someone draw up a bath for you in room twelve right away!” She hastily scooped the money into her arms and dashed for a back door, screaming for one of the housekeepers.

  “Room twelve. It's always room twelve,” Hawke muttered, shaking his head. We started towards the chairs, only just in time remembering how filthy we were, and opted instead to stand near the desk while we waited for everything to be prepared. The only thing that broke the silence was the occasional pounding at the door as the citizens of Damkarei tried to force their way in to no avail.

  I was starting to think it would be smart to lock the windows too when the innkeep appeared to let us know our requests were ready. With a sigh of relief, I hurried down the hall. Hopefully, the people outside wouldn't consider smashing their way in while we took part in a little taste of civilization.

  * * *

  I couldn't even remember the last time I had actually bothered to take care with my appearance. Looking in the mirror after my bath, I took the time to trim my hair with my short-sword, watching as the black strands fluttered to the ground. Hawke always extolled the virtues of shorter hair to prevent an opponent from grabbing it, but I could never bring myself to cut it shorter than shoulder length.

  When I finished my hair, I took a minute deliberating on what to wear to meet a king. While I had grown used to wearing a tunic and breeches for comfort and ease of movement while travelling, I figured something a bit more formal might be fitting and opted for one of my robes instead. I slipped on my nicest dress robe, made of a sort of shimmering sapphire blue fabric, and tied it off at the waist. I took another couple minutes to polish my black boots a bit before slipping them back on.

  I almost didn't recognize the person who stared back at me from the mirror. My tan had deepened considerably from years spent wandering, leaving me with a strong olive complexion. Gone was the little girl that had first set out with Hawke from the plantation where I had once been enslaved, replaced with a woman who was already growing upward and filling out so quickly that I had to pick up new clothes frequently as I outpaced my wardrobe. I was still a bit small compared to other girls around my age, but I took comfort in knowing I could probably take someone twice my size in a scuffle.

  There came a knock at the door. I called for them to come in while I fiddled with some last second details. I heard the door creak open, and the snort that followed it sounded familiar.

  “I don't think I've ever seen you fuss with your looks so much,” Hawke said. I whirled on him and narrowed my eyes.

  “Probably wouldn't kill you to put a little attention to your own appearance once in awhile,” I shot back. He always had been lazy in his personal grooming, letting his blonde hair hang loose and stringy around his head. He swept some errant strands out of his face, pressing the pair of glasses he wore up his nose a bit. The lenses were fake; he had perfect eyesight, but he enjoyed the look too much to bother with that little detail. Behind his glasses, his eyes shone silver, even facing away from the lamp lighting the room.

  “Hey, I just like being comfortable,” he said defensively. His hands tugged at the same long-sleeved white tunic he always wore, belted closed with a sash that also held up his usual dark red kilt. He rarely changed out of those clothes, usually only when attending the rare function where such dress would be considered drab. At least he washed them regularly.

  “I would think a former king would be used to sacrificing comfort to look regal,” I said.

  “This is how I've always dressed. Even when I was a king.”

  “I've noticed.” I sighed and turned back to the mirror. There was no way I was going to change his mind, and I realized I probably had wasted more time than I should have on my own appearance. I forced myself to be content with smoothing out a couple of wrinkles from the robe before snapping up my short-sword and looking to Hawke again. “Okay, let's go.”

  Surprisingly, the crowd was nowhere to be found when I removed my special lock from the door so we could venture back out. There were a larger number of people milling about than what was probably usual, and they did cast a lot of hopeful glances in our direction. Hawke had put on his business visage, though, and one look at those cold steel eyes was enough to dissuade even the most starry-eyed subjects of his.

  As we approached the castle, I noticed that the walls surrounding the city weren't the only new construction in Damkarei. The o
nce crumbling curtain wall surrounding the fortress had been almost completely repaired, with the last few holes being bricked off even as we entered. Several guards patrolled the ramparts, but their wary glances turned aside with a look from Hawke.

  We found Captain Dagon waiting in the main courtyard, his scowl still etched firmly on his face. He spotted us from the corner of his eye, striding over quickly to meet us.

  “Took long enough,” he said, eyeing us both over. His gaze lingered on Hawke. “Especially considering how little you've bothered cleaning up.”

  Hawke ignored him. “I suppose Uraj is waiting for us in the audience chamber.”

  “Yes. He's entertaining another…guest right now.” The creases growing on Dagon's brow threatened to overtake his face. He nodded for us to follow, leading the way across the courtyard and weaving between bustling builders.

  “Someone else is here?” Hawke asked.

  “I just said so, didn't I?”

  “What do they look like?” Hawke and I exchanged nervous glances.

  “All covered up in a ratty cloak and hood. Even more suspicious than you two, if you ask me.”

  The description made me even more uneasy. If Bojangles was already here, who knows what might lay in store for us through the doors. Hawke braced himself, his hand gripping Symphony's hilt.

  “They won't try anything with us there,” he said.

  “If anyone tries anything in there,” Dagon said, “they'll have half the Damkarein military on them in seconds.” He didn't look at either of us.

  The captain stopped at a pair of familiar iron doors, pulling one open soundlessly with his right hand while the left hovered near his blade. He offered one last glare before jerking his head to the entrance. We wasted no time marching through the door, and he slammed it shut before we had any chance to look back.

  The hallway was already awash with light from the torches lining the walls. The corridor led straight ahead, a sight that brought back chilling memories.