We practiced at the range for a while, Blake continuing to throw axes with scary accuracy while I struggled to get mine to hit the tree I was aiming at. After a while, Blake gave up trying to teach me the delicate art of axe hurling. Instead, they started going over all the various weapons stored there, showing me the basics of using swords, daggers, and maces. Ze even made an attempt to show me the short bow, but I couldn't even begin to draw it far enough to make a passable shot.
I was enjoying our time for the most part, but something was bothering me as Blake continued to lecture me on the finer points of each weapon. When it finally dawned on me, I blurted out my thoughts in the middle of one of their explanations.
“Blake, have you killed a lot of people?”
Ze stopped talking immediately, staring me right in the eyes. I averted my gaze, afraid that I had said something terrible, but Blake dipped their head and fidgeted. “Yeah, I guess I have. Do you hate me for it?”
“Why do you kill people?”
Blake bit at their lip. “I guess only because sometimes I have to. Whenever I kill it's out in the Madness. Nothing but marauders and demons out there, and they're usually attacking us first. If I didn't kill them first, I'd die.”
I thought about that for a moment. “I don't want you to die,” I said at last. Ze laughed at my decision.
“I don't want to either. That's why I'm still here. Y'know, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you either, Micasa,” Blake admitted. “If someone tried to hurt you, I'd kill them too.”
“I don't want people to die because of me,” I protested, shaking my head furiously.
“Fine, I'll just whup them so bad they can't hurt you then,” Blake amended with a shrug.
I smiled. “You'd really protect me?”
“Of course! No one hurts a friend of mine!” Ze struck an awkward pose I assume was supposed to be heroic, and I laughed. I had felt safe with Hawke around to protect me, but knowing that there were other people in the world willing to stand up for me made me feel better than I had in days. Soon we were both laughing for no good reason, and without another word between us, we went back to throwing axes around with abandon.
After one particularly impressive throw Blake made with the Twins that looked like it almost felled the tree it hit, I was tempted to try my own throw with the axe. I ran over to where it sat embedded and tried to pry it out, but the head had sunk so deep into the tree that I couldn't so much as budge it.
“Oy, look, the weirdo managed to find itself a fan!” guffawed a gruff voice from nearby. I turned to see a man and a couple women in rough leather armor standing nearby, laughing amongst each other. There was no telling how long they had been watching us practice.
“Bout time li'l Blakey found someone who'd actually want to hang aroun' wit' such a freak,” drawled one of the women, sneering with a mouth full of crooked yellowed teeth.
“Oy, lass, maybe later ya can go solve the mystery of how it's plumbin' is arranged!” the other woman cried towards me, grabbing at her crotch obscenely. “It's one o' the great myst'ries o' the world, y'know!”
“Shut up.”
Blake had stepped forward in front of me, face frozen like a glacier. Ze was breathing heavily through their nose and pinching their lips so tightly together they become a thin line.
“Well, it won't be no myst'ry if ya jus' pull tha' robe o'er yer head an' give us a peek!” the man said, with snickers of agreement from his companions. “Or jess whip it out if'n ya got it to show! 'Ere, I'll show ya how!” The man began to work at his belt buckle with a lewd grin on his face.
Before I could tell what ze was doing, Blake wrenched the axe free from the trunk and launched it in one motion. It drove headfirst into the ground right at the man's feet, missing the front of his pants by a hair's breadth. Silence fell on the trio as they looked wide-eyed at the weapon.
“Pull that thing out here and you'll lose it, you pig,” Blake warned, unsheathing a small hand axe from the folds of their robe. “You know as well as any I only miss on purpose. Now, get going.”
“Y-yessir,” the bandit replied meekly, his eyes still locked on the axe that stood between him and us. All three backed away until they were far enough that they felt safe turning their backs on Blake and setting off to the camp at a very brisk pace. I only realized once they were out of sight that I had been holding my breath the whole time and exhaled heavily.
“That was scary,” I said. “Do they do that a lot?”
“Every so often,” Blake replied with disgust. “They forget I'm not some kid they can toy around with. Gotta give them a reminder when it happens. You okay?” Ze turned to me, looking worried.
“Mmhmm,” I gave a small nod. “I don't get what they were talking about, though. What's 'plumbing'?”
Blake's eyes darted around nervously and ze scratched the back of their head. “Er, they were talking about whether I'm a boy or girl.”
“Can you be something else?” I had never heard of being anything other than one or the other.
“Well, I've never really considered myself either. I'm just me,” Blake tried to explain with a shrug. “Never have seen a point in labeling myself just because I was born with some body parts other people don't have.”
I understood the difference between boys and girls well enough: the slaves of the manor had to bathe together, so I saw that there were obvious differences from the two. I had never realized that it made such a difference in the way people treated others, though.
“Do they hurt you because of that?” I asked.
“Oh, they try, but I made up my mind a long time ago not to let them just do what they want. If you stand up for yourself, you'll find most people like that are just all talk.”
“Have you ever…killed someone for that?”
“What?” Blake seemed taken aback but shook their head a chuckled after a moment. “Nah, I told you, I only kill those who try to kill me or my partners. They act like jerks every once in a while, but when things get bad, even those three would have my back in a fight. I wouldn't kill someone just because they make an ass of themselves on occasion.”
“Why would they try to hurt you anyways? You're so nice.”
“I guess people are just afraid of something they don't understand.”
Their words reminded me of what Hawke had said about the gypsies when we left Sapir. Hearing Blake mentioning it too made me realize just how often people jumped to conclusions with little understanding. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that if I wanted to keep traveling with Hawke, I had a responsibility to learn as much as I could so I wouldn't make the same mistake.
“Blake, do you know where Hawke is? I need to talk to him.” Ze looked at me, lips pursed in thought.
“I think I've seen him wandering around the woods just outside our camp a few times,” Blake answered, looking slightly unsure. “He never seems to be doing anything in particular, but he scurries away quick if someone tries to approach him. I'll show you where I'm talking about.”
The place Blake was mentioning ended up being on the other side of the camp, out of sight from any of the tents. Near a cluster of trees sat a large rock overgrown with moss, and on that rock sat Hawke, his back towards us and his head in his hands. Without a word, Blake gave me a reassuring pat on the back and headed back to the encampment.
I was unsure whether Hawke would be upset by my appearance, but I didn't want to stay in the dark any longer. I wanted to know more about the person who had done so much for me and asked so little in return. If I could give him nothing else, perhaps I could give him someone he could confide in. With that in mind, I took a deep breath and approached.
“What are you doing, Hawke?” I asked as I drew around the front. His head jerked up, but he let out a breath of relief when he saw me.
“Careful sneaking up on people, you caught me off guard there,” he said with the smallest of smiles. He shifted around nervously, and for a moment I was afraid he would simpl
y leave. He eventually settled down and looked to me, expectant.
“Hawke–” I started, but he suddenly cut me off.
“Micasa, I'm so sorry.” He bent his head into his lap, hands clasped on his knees. “I almost got you killed because of my poor planning and selfishness.”
I didn't know quite what to say. Was this why he had been avoiding me for so long?
“It's okay, Hawke, I just–”
“It's not okay,” he interrupted again. “I knew how dangerous this journey would be, and I brought you along just because of your power. I should have left you in Changirah; it was stupid of me to–”
“NO!” It was my turn to cut him off. I didn't know why I was screaming, but I didn't let up. “I don't care why you brought me! I've gotten to do so many great things because of you! I like being here with you! Why do you want me to go away!?”
Hawke recoiled away from my anger. When I stopped my rant, my chest was heaving and my face felt hot, but I was determined to get the answers I came for.
“I don't want you to go away, Micasa,” he said after some silence passed, his voice oddly small, “but what I've done up until now hasn't been fair to you. I brought you all this way, yet I'm practically a stranger to you. What right do I have to make you trust me?”
“Then tell me!” I demanded. “Let me know about you!”
Hawke slipped off the boulder and landed on his backside on the leaf-strewn ground. He leaned against the rock, rubbing his temple with one hand. When our eyes met again, I mustered up the best angry look I could manage. All it did was make Hawke laugh.
“I suppose if I had done that from the beginning, things would have been a lot clearer,” he said through his laughter. “I guess I'm just not very good at talking about myself. It's gonna take some time, though. You sure you want to sit through it?”
I nodded, quickly sitting next to a tree facing him. He sighed, took his glasses off and wiped them absentmindedly.
“Well then,” he said, still polishing his glasses, “I guess my story begins over 400 years ago.”
Chapter 10: The 400-Year-Old Man
“The world was a very different place then. There were millions and millions of people, and the idea of demons was just fantasy. Imagine a world filled with people like in Sapir: scientists, artists, bakers, businessmen and businesswomen, farmers, all spread across half a dozen continents. They traded their crafts across the vast distances through ships and airborne vehicles and could communicate with each other using devices that sent messages through the very air, making those distances feel that much smaller. It was a golden age for humanity.”
I was already struggling to keep up with what he was telling me, but I did my best to hold my tongue. He paused for a moment, as if expecting questions, but when none came he put his glasses back on and continued.
“I was a teacher myself, back in those days. There were schools all over the world, where young people went to learn the knowledge and skills necessary to pursue whatever goals they had. The school I was in a quiet port town called…” he trailed off, thinking hard. “…I can't seem to remember what it was named.” He pursed his lips in frustration but shook his head after a moment. “Either way, it was a small town, but well known for the boats that were built there, and the college that I taught at.”
“What's a college?” I asked, finally failing at keeping silent.
“They were schools for young adults. College was usually the last schooling a person would take before looking for the job they were trying to do. I was a literature teacher. Er, that is, I taught people about books.”
“Oh, so that's why you like them so much,” I mused. Hawke chuckled and nodded.
“It's more the other way around: I became a literature teacher because of my love of books. To be honest, though, I was a terrible teacher. I was a sharp student in my own right when I was in school and figured my love of books would translate well into teaching. I couldn't have been more wrong, though; I was always more interested in reading and studying books for my own sake than helping the students in my care learn the things they needed. Because of that, my classes tended to dwindle in number quickly, the students either transferring to better teachers or just quitting altogether. To this day, I have no idea why the heads of the college kept me around for as long as they did.
“Since my classes often ended up empty, I ended up with a lot of free time on my hands. Being a small town, there was very little to do in way of entertainment. Most of the kids who lived there would travel to the larger cities nearby to kill time. Nothing out there interested me, though, so when I wasn't reading something I took to wandering the docks.
“I would watch the dock workers for hours, primarily the ones who were tasked with building the ships the town was so famous for. One particular worker caught my eye, a metallurgist who made propeller blades, capstans, and cleats among other things for the vessels being built there.”
“What's a Me-tah…metalerg…” I couldn't even get the word out of my mouth.
“Sorry, he was a metal worker,” Hawke said, abashed. “Almost any metal parts needed for the ships they constructed there were made by him. He was sort of a genius when it came to smithing. He even did all his work with an old fashioned stone forge, while the few other metal workers who did business there used more conventional means. Watching him work was so fascinating that one day I struck up a conversation with him. Before I knew what happened, we became fast friends.”
It was strange to hear about Hawke having any sort of friend he could relate to. Aside from the kindness he showed me, I found him usually very standoffish towards most other people. Without thinking, I asked, “What was your friend's name?”
He paused for a long while, his eyes looking right through me as his thoughts trailed. When he spoke again, it was with the same distance his gaze held.
“Uraj… Uraj Kuznetsov.”
His expression grew darker as he muttered the name, and for a moment I thought I had angered him. It only lasted for a second, though, before his face softened.
“Uraj thought I was odd for being so entranced with his work, but the way he handled the blistering heat of the forge for his craft was a work of art. Heating, shaping, cooling: he had a gift for taking that blistering, backbreaking work and making it beautiful. It inspired me so much I started absorbing every work I could about sea life: captain's journals, sea charts, boat manuals, you name it. It was the first time I was so interested in anything other than just reading, and Uraj was always there to help me understand the things that confused me. We would talk about all sorts of topics when he wasn't working, whether just sitting on the piers or sharing drinks in the tiny pubs around town.
“In turn, he would ask me innumerable questions about the world of higher education. He had grown up in a large and barren country, dirt poor and unable to attend school, so learning more about what he never experienced was somehow gratifying to him. Of course, he often laughed at how I spent more time lounging around with him than actually doing any schoolwork.” Hawke smiled and leaned his head back. “Those were some damn good times.”
The smile slowly dropped from his face. “At least, until the day that changed the world forever.”
I was starting to feel wrong for asking to know more about Hawke. It was clear these memories were not ones he wanted to relive, yet he was still willing to talk about them with me.
“We don't have to talk anymore if you don't want to,” I assured him, but Hawke held up his hand.
“No, I haven't talked about this in a long while. It's good for me to get this off my chest. Besides, after our close encounter with a grinel, you deserve to know the truth about them.”
“Grinel?” I recognized the word as something Scab Kahlot had said while I was being held captive but just thought it was part of the harsh language of the demons.
“What you know normally as a demon. To be honest, it's not an unfair comparison.” His eyes grew dark again. “The terrible things
they did to humans more than justifies the term. Grinel is simply their name for their own kind, much like human is the word for our people.
“They appeared from practically nowhere. To this day we've never been able to figure out exactly what they did, but somehow they were able to open portals that led from wherever they came from to our world and poured in by the millions. It was something straight out of a nightmare, a memory I will never forget: the day of the Pilgrimage.” He took a deep, shaky breath.
“I was actually teaching a class that day when the first portals ripped open. Emergency alerts began to sound throughout the town and news reporters – people that gathered information from around the world to tell others that is – were all talking about strange occurrences; massive floods and earthquakes were hitting cities without warning, hurricanes roaring in from seemingly nowhere. It was chaos.
“I sent the students home and started trying to find out as much as I could about what was happening. All the reports had different ideas of what was causing it, but they all agreed that it was a global catastrophe the likes of which had never been seen. Before I could learn anything more than that, the whole town began to tremble.
“Panic gripped everyone immediately. The town was thrown into a frenzy as people tried to flee as quickly as they could. The reports began flooding in of unidentified creatures rampaging everywhere, and there was no telling how long it would be until they made it to our little corner of the world.
“I was keen on leaving too, but I was also worried about Uraj. While everyone else was packing onto the streets to head inland, I forced my way through to the docks, hoping he hadn't fled yet. I found him still inside the warehouse he worked in, apparently expecting me. He had already managed to get hold of a number of survival supplies, as well as a different plan of escape from my own.
“We made to the piers where a lone boat still waited. All the other vessels had already set off, deciding to take the same chance Uraj was banking on: that there would be more safety on open waters than on shore. It turned out the boat still moored there was one he had been working on, but with the situation seeming so dire we didn't think twice about taking it as we cast off the line and took to the sea.”
Broken Soul (The Scholar's Legacy Book 1) Page 12