The Bowl of Souls: Book 01.5 - Hilt's Pride

by Trevor H. Cooley

  The ground was hard and her side ached, but the gauzy blanket was so efficient at keeping out the cold that she felt almost cozy. She looked over at Hilt and his position looked so uncomfortable she felt guilty. After all, if she wasn’t around, he would be the one using the blanket. She tried to push the guilt away, but it continued to gnaw at her.

  “Come here, Hilt.” Beth said finally.

  “Hmm?” He turned a bleary eye her way.

  “Come here. This blanket is big enough for both of us to share.”

  “I don’t think that would be proper,” he said.

  Yntri snickered from somewhere in one of the trees above them.

  “Shut up, Yntri,” Beth said. “Hilt, we are both fully clothed and I trust that you will be a gentleman. Come here. I can see that you’re cold.”

  Hilt crawled over and sat next to her, a hesitant look on his face. “How do you really know you can trust me? I’m a noble, after all. For all you know, I could be quite the ladies man.”

  She glanced at him. “Are you?”

  “No,” he said.

  “That’s good enough for me, now get under the blanket.”

  Hilt looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then removed his overcoat, folded it twice lengthwise, and laid it down so both of them could rest their heads on it. Beth was grateful. That was much more comfortable then resting her head on the ground. He then laid down and scooted under the blanket. It ended up that though the elven blanket was indeed big enough to cover both of them, they had to scoot right up against each other to fit.

  “Your sword is digging into my hip,” Beth complained.

  “Sorry.”

  “Do you always sleep with your sword belt on?”

  “When I’m sleeping out in the wilderness I do,” Hilt explained. “If something was to attack, I need to be ready.”

  “How can you sleep like that?” she wondered. “What if you want to turn on your side?”

  “I always sleep on my back. When I was young, my father taught me that if you sleep on your side, it’s easier for something to sneak up on you.”

  “Well can you make an exception this one night? I have a bruise right there and the crossbar on your hilt is poking it.”

  “I suppose.” He stood and removed the belt, then laid back next to her.

  Beth was exhausted and though she should have fallen right to sleep, her mind was too active. She kept thinking about how long it had been since she had slept next to a man. She couldn’t stop noticing the warmth from where their shoulders and hips were touching. It felt . . . nice. She frowned at herself. She needed to distract her mind.

  “Hilt,” she said, her tone sounding sharper than she intended. It wasn’t his fault, after all. “You still haven’t told me why you feel it is your duty to help me.”

  “Oh, well I suppose I haven’t, have I?” He yawned. “I was almost asleep, you know.”

  “You can sleep after you tell me.”

  Hilt chuckled in response. It was such a warm sound that she found herself resisting the urge to snuggle up against him. She frowned again.

  “Odd how it seems like every time I start to tell you, I’m interrupted.” She could almost hear Hilt smiling as he said it.

  “Just tell me before something else happens,” Beth snapped, half expecting a troll to come running through the trees.

  Hilt chuckled again. “Want to know what they never tell you about being named?”

  “What’s that?” Beth asked.

  “Being named really isn’t about how good you are.”

  “No?”

  “Oh, in a way it is, I suppose, but the secret is that it’s just another job. You become named and along with it comes a heap of responsibilities. People begin to expect things of you, especially the prophet. He thrusts you into situations all the time. It’s like he’s the boss.”

  “So you decided to help me because it was part of your job?” she asked, a little disappointed.

  “No. I knew that since he sent you across my path, he expected me to help. But it’s more than that. I decided to help because, if the prophet told you to climb this mountain, I knew it was the right thing to do.” He paused. “That didn’t sound fake, did it? Because I’m not being fake, I’m just being honest.”

  Now she wanted to hug him. What was wrong with her? “But how does it work? When you get named, do you sign an agreement? Does the prophet meet with you and lay down the rules?”

  “No,” Hilt said. “I’ve met him from time to time but its not like that. He might show up and ask me to do something, but he never really tells me to do anything. Most of the time situations just fall in my lap and I know I’m supposed to deal with it.”

  “And it’s the same way for other named warriors?”

  “It seems to be, yes,” He said with a shrug. “When, I see one, we tend to gripe about it together.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a very good system,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “What if the named warriors just decided not to do what he wanted? You didn’t make any promises.”

  “But I don’t think that would happen,” Hilt said. “I could be wrong, but when I stood before the bowl, I could feel it searching my soul. It knew me. There is a lot of conjecture out there about what the bowl is looking for, and one of the key requirements is that you must know and trust in yourself. But more than that, I believe that one of the requirements is being someone that would make the right choice when asked. As far as an agreement . . .”

  He slid his right hand under hers. “Feel that?”

  She ran her fingers down the back of his hand. She could feel the outline of his naming rune and the skin that it covered felt different, more leathery somehow. “Yes.”

  “That rune means a lot of things. It is an identification. It ties us to our naming weapons. It is a key that gets us into places other people would not be allowed to go. It’s protection. It cannot be damaged, it cannot be removed.” He withdrew his hand and continued, “Over the years I have come to realize that the naming rune is a symbol of a promise made not by our minds, but by our souls. Believe me I have railed against it with my mind multiple times, but in the end I could no more refuse to help than I could tell my heart to stop beating.”

  “Okay, I understand. You can go to sleep now,” Beth said. Hilt chuckled, shaking his head at her oddity, but said no more. He fell asleep almost instantly.

  She lay awake for a while longer, her hands clenched at her sides, her heart thumping. She had no excuse to feel this way. Hilt wasn’t Coulton. She forced herself to breathe slowly and concentrated on the exhaustion she felt. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.

  Half way through the night, she was snuggled up against him.

  VI

  “Beth . . .” Hilt whispered. “Beth!”

  “Hmm?” she said, snuggling closer.

  “Um, my arm is asleep. Would you mind?”

  She realized that she was laying on her side, one arm and leg wrapped around him and her head was resting on his arm. She lifted her head and squinted at him, noticing that she had drooled all over his shoulder. He had to have noticed, but at least he was kind enough not to mention it. She moved her leg and arm off of him and sat up. The sky was blue and brightening. It was morning.

  She gave him a suspicious look. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Not long,” Hilt said, wincing as he massaged his tingling arm. “But you were snoring so peacefully, I hesitated to wake you.”

  “No, was I really?” He chuckled and she put her face in her hands. How humiliating. Coulton had never complained about her snoring, but Old Bob used to tease her about it. “Oh, I am so sorry.”

  “Not at all,” Hilt said a grin. He stood and began folding the blanket. “I slept quite well actually once you stopped asking me for stories. The night was . . . quite comfortable.”

  Beth frowned trying to gauge his meaning. She watched him place the blanket back into his pack and put his swordbelt back on befor
e she gave up. What did it matter? They would reach the peak that day and then Hilt could part ways with her. There was no reason to dwell on her actions during the night. The situation would not repeat itself. For some reason the thought made her sad.

  A whistle echoed from beyond the camp and Yntri Yni entered with a bowl full of small greenish berries and four bulbous pieces of root.

  “Is that breakfast you have, Yntri? Thank you!” Hilt said he glanced at Beth. “See, I told you Yntri was the perfect travel companion.”

  “What is it?” Beth asked as the elf held the bowl out to her.

  “Frost berries and winnow root,” Hilt said, popping a few berries into his mouth. “They aren’t very flavorful, but not bad. These are two of the staples a traveler can scavenge for in higher altitudes like this. I am actually quite impressed that Yntri knows about them since this is such a different environment than the land he is from.”

  Yntri spoke at Hilt for several moments, his voice clicking with irritation and the warrior nodded, looking quite embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Yntri. I will try not to let that happen again.”

  “What was that about?” Beth asked.

  “Uh, since we have been traveling with you, I have gotten into the habit of talking about him instead of to him. He was just reminding me that he is standing right here.” Hilt gave Yntri an apologetic smile. “But seriously, Beth. Try the food. We have a ways yet to go today.”

  Beth tried the berries. Hilt was right. They were only vaguely sweet, but edible. The warrior took one of the roots and peeled back the rough outer skin with his knife. The skin came off quite easily in long strips and Hilt gave her one. It had a clean crisp taste and a consistency very much like an apple.

  “This is quite good, Yntri. Thank you,” she said.

  The elf nodded and bit into one of the roots himself. He didn’t bother peeling it. While he munched on it, he walked over and climbed the tree he had stayed in during the night. For the first time, Beth noticed a large pile of wood shavings at the base of the tree. What had the elf been up to?

  A few moments later, the elf slid back down the trunk. Beth winced, knowing what such a slide would have done to her bare feet. In one hand, Yntri held a small wooden bowl and in the other, he carried a bow. He had a wide grin on his ancient face, and he gestured to her, smiling as he clicked at her.

  “Beth, this bow is for you.” Hilt said in surprise. He gave her an impressed look. “This is amazing. Yntri is one of the greatest weapon makers alive. He has made weapons exclusively for the Roo-tan for centuries, so to make this for you is the rarest of exceptions.”

  Beth looked at the bow more closely as the elf approached. The wood was stained a dark ebony and the handle was wrapped with viper skin. Tiny runic symbols had been carved along its length but they weren’t symbols she recognized. She was pretty sure they weren’t elemental runes at all. Perhaps they were words in Yntri’s language.

  The importance of this gift settled upon her. Beth could not think of a proper way to respond, so she did something she hadn’t done since she was a child. She gave the elf a deep curtsey. “Thank you, Yntri. I-I don’t know what to say. I am honored, but . . . but why would you make this for me? What did I do to deserve this?”

  Yntri gave her a kind smile and clicked his response. “Yntri says that when he listened to your heart, your spirit cried out to him. It has been a long time since he has crafted a weapon that wasn’t made from Jharro wood. But the Jharro Grove only gives weapons to its protectors and he knew he had to make you this bow.”

  Beth reached for the bow. “I will cherish it always. Thank-.”

  Yntri pulled the bow back and waggled a finger. “He says that there is something you must do before you can wield the bow.”

  “The sapling he found was strong and lively. It shaped itself to him willingly, but the viper gave conditions, he . . .” Hilt frowned. “I am not quite sure how to translate this. Yntri, would you repeat that last part?”

  The elf clicked some more, motioning at the bow while he talked and Hilt looked quite perplexed at first, but finally he nodded. “He says that he took the soul of the viper you killed and bound it to the bow.”

  “The soul of the viper?” Beth said. She shifted to mage sight and looked at the bow. She saw nothing. No magical elements at all. “How could he do that?”

  Yntri explained. “He says that he is a soul taster and a shaper. It is how he makes the weapon to fit the wielder. He inserted the viper’s fangs into the handle, then combined the fat, brains, and venom of the viper and used it to polish the wood. He then wrapped the handle with the viper’s skin and coated the bow with sap from the Jharro tree so that it would cure quickly and bind the viper’s soul to the bow.

  “He says that you were the one that killed the viper and that you consumed its flesh, so he already had a link to work with. But the . . .” Hilt scratched his head and he sounded a bit unsure when he continued, “The viper is . . . perturbed at you. He says it was upset that you did not fight it fairly. He explained to it that this was how a human defeats a viper, but it is insistent. The viper will only bend its will to yours if you let it bite you first.”

  “What?” Beth said in both confusion and alarm.

  Yntri shook his head and clicked some more.

  “Oh,” Hilt said. “Sorry, I was a bit off with that last part. He says that the viper will only bend its will to you if you taste its venom. Once you do that, the link will be complete.”

  Yntri lifted the small wooden bowl in his other hand and Beth saw that it contained a pink waxy paste.

  “Is that the same stuff you polished the bow with?”

  Yntri nodded.

  “I don’t want to taste that,” Beth said. Snake brains and venom weren’t something any sane person would eat. Besides, she had studied at the Mage School for several years and this just wasn’t the way magic worked. “Really, why I would want a snake’s soul bound to me, anyway?”

  Yntri’s eyes widened and he put a finger to his lips. “Yntri says that now is not the time to offend it,” Hilt translated. “He says that even the smallest of souls are powerful things and that the soul of a viper is a very useful companion for an archer to have.”

  Beth winced. This was obviously important to Yntri, but the idea was still ridiculous. “Yntri, I do not want to offend you or the snake, but I looked at the bow with my mage sight and there is no magic in it. I-I respect your traditions, but do we really have to go through with this part?”

  Yntri laughed then, long and hard. “He says that your Mage School has forgotten the old ways. He says that the power of the spirit can not be seen by your mage eyes. This is why the wizards don’t understand his people’s ways and also why they don’t understand the prophet’s ways.” The withered old elf’s face grew serious then. He clicked out a very clear question. “He asks you to show him some of that same faith you showed the prophet.”

  The request caught her off guard. He had a point. What reason did she have to doubt him? Beth pushed away her misgivings. “Okay Yntri. What do I need to do?”

  The elf slung the new bow over one shoulder, then stood in front of her. He reached two fingers into the bowl and scooped out a glob of the pink waxy substance and clicked instructions.

  Hilt stood at her side, offering calm assurance. “He says stand very still. He is going to place the venom of the viper on your lips. When he does, the snake will attack. Stand firm against it. Withstand its bite and bend it to your will. Then the bow will be yours.”

  “Is this going to hurt?”

  She looked into the elf’s ancient eyes and felt a sense of calm wash over her. This was a gift and Yntri was a friend. He would not hurt her. Besides, Hilt was by her side. Everything would be all right.

  Yntri raised the two fingers to her face and she smelled nothing. He rubbed the paste across her lips, pushing some of it into her mouth. It tasted like mint, with just the slightest metallic aftertaste. Beth realized that she was tasting the sap
of the Jharro tree. A warmth spread from her lips across her face and down her throat followed by numbness. Then came the burn. It started at her lips and tongue, then spread up her face and down her throat.

  She closed her eyes and the visage of the viper rose before her. It hissed and struck, sinking its fangs into her lips. There was no pain, but she felt it pierce her flesh. She reached up, grasped the snake around the back of its head and squeezed, forcing its mouth open. She pulled it away from her face and glared at it. Its eyes met hers and she felt its acceptance.