“Quite so,” Medicine Man said with a nod.
“I thought he couldn't regenerate, though,” I pointed out. Hawke grimaced.
“Uraj found…another means to staying alive for so long.”
“Certainly so,” agreed the Medicine Man. “That's why our land has always revered the two Old Kings, who drove back the demons and made life possible. One is Lord Uraj Kuznetsov, also known as the Forge. The other is Lord Hawke Morau, otherwise known as the Scholar.” The Medicine Man finally locked eyes with Hawke.
“The people have been waiting for you to return, you know,” he said. “Lord Uraj in particular has been constantly sending word looking for any information to your whereabouts.”
It was Hawke's turn to shrug. “I've been in the Fertile Lands for at least seven years with my hands tied, so to speak.” He stood, dusting off the errant leaves and seeds from his robe. “I still have to find the rest of my essence, but I get the feeling that my road leads back to Uraj. If any scouts come this way asking, you can tell them I'm on my way.” With that, Hawke strode away from the conversation and vanished into the dark, without so much as another glance at me.
“Is he gonna leave me behind?” was all I could ask the Medicine Man. He snorted and spat.
“If he tries after telling you all that, he's gonna learn why you don't piss off a doctor.”
* * *
As it turned out, Hawke would never have to learn such consequences. The next morning, he came to wake me personally, bringing a large breakfast for us to share. I didn't even notice what we were eating; I was just glad that we were finally sharing a meal together again. He went as far as to make small conversation, asking me what I was up to during the stay in the camp. I told him about the things the Medicine Man taught me, but when I got to all the stuff I learned about weapons from Blake, he blanched a little, though his lips remained shut.
When we finished eating he led me to the western edge of the camp, where I was surprised to find Blake waiting for us. Ze held the reins of a horse, its coat the color of milky coffee. It was already loaded with several weeks' worth of travel supplies,
“See, didn't I tell you Sir Brown Horse would find his way back to us?” Hawke said as he looked at me and smiled. Even I could tell, young as I was, that this wasn't the same animal we had left Sapir with. The horse's coat was too light in color, and it was slightly larger than the real Sir Brown Horse. But Hawke had a look on his face that made it clear he was trying to make me feel better. I decided it was best to just go along with it.
“Yay!” I cried as I ran to pet it. Even if it wasn't our old friend, the horse was still very beautiful, and I looked forward to the adventure we would have with it. “I never got to ride the lumpy camels, though,” I pouted as I stroked the new Sir Brown Horse's mane.
“Aw, you can ride those the next time you come to visit!” Blake assured me as ze handed the reins off to Hawke and engulfed me in a hug. “And that better be soon, y'hear?” I returned the hug greedily.
“Can we come back, Hawke? I wanna see Blake and Medicine Man and the camels again!” I looked to him while holding my embrace.
“When we're done, I don't see why not,” Hawke answered. “I've got a favor or two I'll have to repay when our business is finished. For one, are you guys sure we can take all these supplies for free?”
“Helping out Hawke Morau and his young ward is my pleasure,” replied the Medicine Man, who had just shown up from nowhere as he seemed wont to do.
“Are you talking about Hawke the man who helped you, or Hawke the Old King?” asked my guardian with a wry smile.
“Yes,” said the healer, and he guffawed so hard his gut jiggled. That set Blake and me to laughing, and soon all of us were cracking up over nothing.
Hawke swung himself into the saddle and Blake helped him pull me up to sit in front of us. The rest of the Mad Riders had slowly trickled in to see us off, and Jo stood before them all, giving me a small salute.
“Take care out there, wee lass,” she said smirking.
“Bye, Micasa!” shouted Blake, eyes growing red and watery. “Come back fast!”
“Yeah!” I nodded, a knot forming in my stomach as I forced myself to smile and wave. Hawke spurred the new Sir Brown Horse forward and started us westward through the forest. As we trotted off, the bellowing voice of the Medicine Man sounded through the air:
“FOR THE SCHOLAR!”
His shout was answered by the entirety of the camp:
“FOR THE KINGDOM!”
Chapter 11: The Legendary Man
After such a long break in one place, it was nice to be on the road again. Even though I spent most of my life in the same area, I had grown to love a life of travel much faster than I expected to. Hawke seemed rather indifferent to our journey as the days passed by, but he was always willing to indulge me when I saw a strange insect I wanted to take a closer look at or a flower I wanted to pick.
I continued pestering him with questions as always, mostly about the things he had talked about during the story of his past. He tried his best to explain concepts like radios and telephones to me, but most of them seemed more impossible than powers and essence.
“Wouldn't you rather hear about the Old Kingdom we're heading into than all that old stuff?” Hawke tried to segue our conversation one morning. He had been trying (and failing) to explain motorized vehicles to me.
“You always do that when you don't wanna tell me about something,” I pouted over my bagel. Sir Brown Horse flicked his tail in agreement. When I saw the frown he was giving me, I acquiesced. “Okay, where are we going?”
He brightened a little too quickly and pulled out our map of Astra. “The pull is definitely coming from the west, but I don't think we'll find another part of my essence in the next town.”
“Oh, are we close to a town?” I scooted closer to look where he was tapping on the map. Most of it was illegible gibberish to me, but I could make out a labeled dot under his finger.
“Yep, a place called Blanc,” he answered. “Been a long time since I've been there, but I don't remember anything of note. With a little luck, though, they might have some news for us.”
“They might know where your essence is?”
“Not likely, but things are always changing in the Old Kingdom. Alliances shift, safe zones become embroiled in war, and rulers get overthrown regularly. It's best to keep an ear to the ground.”
“Doesn't sound very nice here.”
“Unfortunately not.” Hawke gave a sad smile. “But it's been my home for most of my life. I know this area much better than the Fertile Lands, and I have many more friends on this side of the Madness too. It might be unstable, but it should also be easier to find a helping hand around here.”
“Are your friends more of those 'family' people like in Changirah and Sapir?”
“No, Uraj has little patience for the family doing their work in the Old Kingdom. None of the other lords and ladies like them much either, so they tend to stick to the Fertile Lands. It's part of why the family likes my help so much: I can do things for them on this side, where their hands are tied.”
“Other lords?” I barely registered what he had said after that part. “So there's more than just you and Uraj.”
“Sort of,” Hawke said with a noncommittal wave of his hand. “Most towns have some sort of 'royalty,' and I use that word loosely, that governs them. They listen to Uraj and me for the most part, but over time they've been setting their sights higher and higher. Some even hope to take the place of us should we happen to disappear.”
I stopped eating, the bagel halfway to my mouth. “Disappear?”
Hawke snorted and shook his head. “Oh they think they're clever, but these are mostly the type of people who would break down in front of a half-starved bandit. They couldn't so much as annoy a pair of experienced demon slayers.”
He shoveled down the last bite of the apple he had been working on and wiped the juice off his hands on his robe. �
�Now we should get a move on. It's not far to Blanc, but I'd like to get there before sundown so we can relax in town and actually have a bed for a change before we hit the road again.”
Our trip was even shorter than I expected, and the first buildings started creeping into view on the horizon just a bit after noon. Unlike the towns we had visited in the Fertile Lands, no archway bearing the town's name greeted us as we passed the first few houses and businesses on the outskirts of the town. A few people wandered the streets while we trotted down the road leading to the center of town, and more than a few wary glances crept our direction.
Those few glances turned into a few hard stares, which changed to dropping jaws and murmurs of wonder. The people we passed began to follow our progress, still whispering to each other in hushed awe. Hawke's unease was apparent on his face and growing in proportion to the crowd. He tried to brush it off as we approached the central square.
“I remember a fountain in the center of town that I always enjoyed, Micasa. Look, you can see it from here, though it looks like they put something else…oh please no.”
There was indeed a fountain in the middle of the square, but a column rose in the center of that bearing two statues. From Hawke's reaction, I could tell it wasn't something that had been there during his last visit to Blanc.
One statue was unmistakably Hawke himself. The robes were a little different from what he usually wore, but the stone visage was almost identical to its fleshy counterpart seated behind me, complete with glasses slipping a bit down its chiseled nose. The statue's hair even went so far as to fall slightly into its face in the same way Hawke's hair often did, though the stony effigy's cut was a sandy color as opposed to Hawke's vivid blonde. The statue was posed with its hand on the hilt of the blade at its waist, a stance I'd seen Hawke adopt on occasion when standing idly about. I had never seen a sculpture so perfectly capture the look of its inspiration.
The other piece was someone I had never seen before. This person's face was as impassive as Hawke's, but there was an undeniable glare shaped to its eyes. A massive scar crossed the right side of its face, from the hair line past its eye all the way down to its heavily whiskered jaw. This man's hair was longer than Hawke's, falling to its stony shoulders and pulled back in a ponytail. Instead of the robes Hawke's effigy wore, it bore a suit of armor reminiscent of the kind the knights wore in picture books. Whereas the Hawke statue stood looking at ease but ready for trouble, this other statue stood with arms crossed defiantly, as if daring trouble to come find it.
“Is that Uraj?” I asked, pointing to the strange figure.
“Without a doubt,” Hawke said. He heaved a sigh. “They sure caught his annoyed look well. I don't think he'd appreciate it, but this work really is quite good.”
“Yours is really good too,” I added.
“Please, the details are all wrong,” he grumbled as he pressed his glasses up his nose and swept the hair from his face.
“Look, look, it really is him!” cried one of the peasants who had come to see what the commotion was about. He pointed between the statue and Hawke, like it was necessary to make the connection.
“The Scholah's retuhned t' us!” cried someone else as they bounced a baby in their arms.
Cries of “Scholar” and “Lord Hawke” rose up from the throng as they began to bustle around Sir Brown Horse, trying to touch Hawke or talk to him. Our mount began to snort and prance nervously from the mob, and Hawke's protests went unheard above the din they made.
“Come now, come now, give the man some room!” barked a powerful voice from over the heads of the people. The cacophony slowly died down as they parted to make way for a figure striding forward on a black mare. The voice belonged to a man wearing a white tie and black suit that complimented his steed well. A small curly mustache rested above his lips that pulled into a smile at the sight of my guardian.
“Lord Hawke, a pleasure to meet you.” The new figure swept off the bowler hat he wore and bowed his head, revealing his heavily thinning white hair. “I'm Lord Carash, Baron of Blanc, and I welcome you to my little town. It's an honor to have one of the Old Kings stop by our quaint corner of the world.”
“Er, it's a pleasure to be a guest here,” Hawke said with the slightest bow of his head.
“I assure you, my Lord, the honor is ours,” the Baron said somewhat forcefully, his eyebrows twitching with each word to emphasize his point. Hawke looked like he was going to argue, but in the end just let his shoulders slump defeated.
“Sure, okay,” was his reply. “My companion here and I were just tired from several days' travel and–”
“–hoping to make full use of our finest accommodations!” Carash finished for him, wringing his hands together and nodding in a way that reminded me of Fern the fence. “Of course! Why I have just the place in mind! If you and your young, um…ward would be so kind as to let me show you.”
Even after he finished speaking, Carash continued to nod while wearing his greasy smile. I looked to Hawke to maybe get some sort of explanation, but he merely looked at me from the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow. The Baron turned his steed around and started trotting through the crowd, and though he hesitated a moment, Hawke finally spurred Sir Brown Horse on as we followed him down the road. Most of the villagers watched with awestruck expressions as we meandered away, while the rest were casting coins into the fountain and murmuring praises at the two statues keeping vigil over the square.
Our journey through town didn't take long as the Baron led us down a long side street to a comfortable looking two-story cottage with a wooden sign above it reading “Blessed Night Inn.” He turned his horse around to face us as we caught up, sweeping his hand towards the building.
“You'll find no better bed and breakfast this side of the Madness than the Blessed Night, I'll tell you that much,” he boasted. He pulled his horse closer and leaned in towards Hawke, lowering his voice to just above a whisper.
“By the way, glad to see you admiring that centerpiece in the square. Cost the town a pretty ruple, they did; had to be made in Sapir and sent across that damn desert. Ten men lost on that trek, but to be able to see your appreciation of it, I know they're resting easy in the great beyond.”
Hawke looked at the man as if he were insane, but the Baron paid no mind as he pulled himself up on his horse, looking more pleased than anyone I had ever seen. It looked like he was about to start another tirade of some sort, but the door to the inn swung open at that moment.
At first, I thought the person who stepped out was a child, but when I got a good look at his face I realized it was simply the shortest man I had ever seen, even compared to the diminutive Medicine Man. He couldn't have been more than a couple inches taller than me, yet the lines in his weathered face spoke of years likely rivaling the blathering Baron. The newcomer's head, deeply bronzed like the rest of his skin, was completely bereft of hair – his was so unnaturally smooth I assumed he must have shaved it. His clothing was nothing more than a sleeveless forest green vest and baggy satin pants, yet despite how basic they were, it was clear to see they were of top quality. Whoever this man was, he was a man of simple taste but went to great lengths to be at his most presentable.
“I heard your prattling from inside, Baron, who are you bothering this time?” The man trailed off as he met eyes with Hawke. “Is that Lord Hawke I spy? Well, this is my lucky day.” The stranger's hard sneer softened until his face was merely passive.
“Do I know you?” Hawke's irritation cut his words perhaps a bit harsher than he had intended, but if he was sorry for it, he didn't say so.
“Not personally, but you probably know of my associates.” The man stepped forward and extended a hand. “My name is Samuel, an acolyte of the Disciples. It's an honor to finally meet you.”
Hawke narrowed an eye but, after the briefest pause, reached out and took the proffered hand. They shook, though there was no warmth lost between them. Both released their grip almost immediately.
“I do vaguely remember the Disciples,” Hawke admitted. “Don't usually see you just wandering around towns, though.”
“True, but that's specifically what I was hired to do,” Samuel said. “I've been searching towns near the Madness, trying to find information on your whereabouts. Seems like fortune decided to smile on me, though. I never expected to run into you directly.”
“And who hired you to do such a thing?” Hawke asked.
“Lord Uraj,” Samuel replied, still as passive as before.
“Of course he did.” Hawke groaned as he rubbed his face with a free hand.
Samuel turned to the Baron and gave a stiff bow, his face hardening into a dismissive scowl once more. “With the Scholar here, my business is concluded. I'll be off immediately to report to my client. You've been most cooperative, thank you, Carash.” His thanks were somewhat underplayed by his harsh stare, but the Baron seemed too wary of the small man to dare question him. He turned to Hawke once more. “Any messages you want me to pass on to Lord Uraj?”
Hawke pondered this for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, tell him I said nothing.”
For once the man named Samuel cracked something resembling a smile. “If that's what you wish, I'll be off.” With that, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and took off at a casual pace.
“B-but sir, what about your things?” bumbled Carash as his recent guest sauntered farther and farther away. It was Hawke who answered.
“He's a Disciple. They carry nothing on them but the clothes on their backs, except to bring supplies back for their brethren. I doubt he even used the bed in whatever room he was holed up in.”
The strange man had piqued my interest, though I had been afraid to talk with him around. Now that I was watching his back grow ever distant I felt comfortable speaking.
“What do they do?”
“Nobody is sure,” Hawke said. “They show up from time to time offering their services as servants to those with influence or power. They work for as long as they feel, and when they're done they take payment. Usually, they only accept actual goods for their services: food, clothing, building supplies, those sorts of things.”
Broken Soul (The Scholar's Legacy Book 1) Page 14