“Micasa,” Hawke broke in out of nowhere, “back when we first started our journey, you wanted to see me pull off your trick, right?” When I nodded, he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the padlocks he had bought for me in another lifetime.
“Work this lock for me a few times,” he requested, tossing the device to me. It was a simple one, plain iron and no decoration. I must have practiced with that one a thousand times before. With one hand I snapped it open and closed a few times with deft flicks of my fingers.
Hawke was watching, but his eyes had changed just as they had in Uraj's audience chamber. Tiny ink pupils peered out of silver orbs as he drank in my every movement. When my hand started to grow tired, he snatched the lock back from my hands.
“I see, so that's how it is…” he mumbled, rolling the lock in his hand over and over. Then with a snap of his wrist, the lock came undone, quick as I could.
I gasped. “You really can copy anything!”
He chuckled at my astonishment. “It's not just a copy.” He produced from the folds of his cloak several more padlocks. With each one at turn, Hawke observed it closely before snapping it open and closed. When he had played with each one, he took all of them in hand and amazed me by popping all of them open at once without touching the latching mechanisms. In a span of seconds, he had mastered what had taken me months of practice.
“Awesome!” I said with my hands to my face.
Hawke wasn't done yet, though. “Now, let me try something new,” he said. He curled his fingers of his right hand and placed them on his chest, above his heart. He closed his eyes and sat still for some time, unmoving. Then his hand twisted. I thought I might have heard a faint 'click', although to this day I cannot be certain.
“What was that?” I asked.
“I 'locked' away your power within myself,” he said. When I stared at him dumbfounded in response, he picked up the padlocks he had set aside and tugged at them again. This time, they stayed firm, refusing to yield open. “It's still here, inside me, and what I've learned I can't forget or learn again. As it is, though, I can't use it anymore.”
“But…why?” was the best I could manage to blurt out. Hawke broke eye contact and turned to the campfire.
“It's hard to explain, but I guess I just felt like I didn't want to take something so special about you for myself.” He gave a shrug. “I want to see how far you can bring your power yourself.”
“I don't care about that!” I said heatedly. Hawke's glasses glinted mischievously in the firelight.
“Well, it's too late now. I can't undo what's been done without that power. Your power.” He raised an eyebrow. “If you want something to be done about it, it'll have to be done by your hands.”
I hadn't any idea where to start to accomplish what he was suggesting. It was just like Hawke, to turn anything he could into a lesson for me. “So what do I do then?”
“There's no need to rush it, Micasa,” he assured me. “You'll figure it out along the way, I'm sure. And I'll help any way I can.”
Along the way, he had said. “So where do we go now?” I asked.
Hawke looked into the night sky, to the waning moon slipping along and the stars it swam through. “Not sure. I have a lot of favors I need to repay, after everything we've been through. There's so much of Astra you haven't seen yet. I also recall you saying there were a lot of people you wanted to see again?”
“Yeah!” I said excitedly. He turned and looked back at me, silver eyes glittering with his own excitement.
“Well then, what adventure do you feel like taking on?” he asked with a giant smile on his face. It was a smile filled with the warmth of a campfire at night, the comfort of shelter in a storm, the assurance of a friend unwavering and unbroken.
About the Author
Hey there! My name’s Joshua, and I’ve been fascinated with storytelling practically since I was old enough to talk.
A bit about myself, I suppose. I’m in my early 30s, born and raised in Sacramento (that’s the capital of California, in case you’re confused). I’m the second of five children, and I. Love. Fantasy.
Growing up I was one of those kids who would blurt out the first thing that came to mind and got all the awkward stares. Even at the age of five, I could go on tangential rants for almost an hour that went nowhere.
In elementary school, I had my first brush with the dark side of fantasy: fan fiction. I spent several of my formative years writing stories based off of favorite tv shows and video games of mine.
This continued on through high school as a group of friends and I made a roleplaying forum where we tried to collaborate on writing a single narrative between almost a dozen people. It’s about as easy as it sounds. Of course, it was moments like that that spurred me to eventually start trying my hand at writing original stories.
I’ve been working full time in the customer service industry since high school. It pays the bills, but doesn’t give me a lot of time to write, so I usually have to really make it count when I can. When I’m not writing, I tend to be either reading or playing video games. Fantasy and sci-fi novels, Japanese manga, RPGs- if it has a fantastical element to it, I’m interested. Reading in particular has always been a huge passion of mine. There’s nothing I enjoy more than a well told narrative and engaging characters.
On the other hand, I have a bit of a masochistic streak when it comes to movies and books as well. Oddly enough, I find immense satisfaction in reading a terrible book or watching a horrible movie. Well, part of that enjoyment probably comes from subjecting my friends to the same thing afterwards. Take it from me: if you show a friend Birdemic, and they’re still friends with you after that, they’re keepers.
Dear reader,
Thank you for taking time to read Broken Soul. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.
Broken Soul (The Scholar's Legacy Book 1) Page 28