51 - The Morning Aches
Everything hurt when Joe woke up. He groaned as loudly as his headache would allow, covering his eyes from the beam of light that was aimed at his face.
“That will hopefully teach you the lesson of overextending yourself, Healer,” the rope warrior’s voice scolded from somewhere nearby. Joe's senses started kicking in. He was swinging in the hammock of his cubby under the stairs. The searingly bright light came from an unfortunate alignment between the morning sun, the porthole, and his face.
“Now, before those ribs weld together in some terrible way, do you feel up to setting them correctly? I have a new mana charm for you to equip whenever you are ready.” The lilt of her voice gave the sentences an almost musical quality. Joe found himself enjoying the sound of her words before his brain managed to get around to processing their meaning.
“Give me a second,” He grunted, draping his arm over his eyes. “I need to sort through the thousand and one bits of agony that are all trying to get my attention. Luckily, I have had plenty of practice with that.”
“And just what does that mean? Are you a castigationist?”
Joe lifted his arm enough to peer out through the crack at the woman, trying to work that word out. He guessed she meant someone who practiced religious mortification, like flagellation. “Nothing so exotic. I was just dying for a very long time before Haw… the One Above brought me over to your side.”
“So you are a newcomer. And your name is Joe. Is that short for anything?”
“Yeah, Jos…, um” Warning bells went off. He considered making up some ridiculous name that started with Jos but he doubted she would be fooled. He also was far too mentally exhausted to come up with anything good on the fly. His pause did not go unnoticed.
“I assume you are reluctant to admit it is short for Joseph,” Hah’roo continued. “Joseph Morris to be exact. Given the wanted posters papering Heron’s Reef, I can understand your reluctance to admit it. Let me ease your mind. It is exceedingly rare to see someone expend themselves so thoroughly for the well-being of others. Your actions last night speak of a zephyred soul.”
Those last two words were spoken with a deep earnestness that caught Joe’s attention. He recalled she had shouted something about a zephyr last night. He lowered his arm and, with much groaning, levered his legs over the edge of the hammock. When he was sitting, without the light blinding him, he saw the woman was shifting nervously from foot to foot.
“What is a zephyred soul?” Joe asked.
“Someone with a noble heart,” she answered quickly. Joe could tell there was more to this than just some virtuous behavior. As Hah’roo started to pace the small area, Joe waited, leaving her a space to speak into, as she worked out whatever it was she wanted to say.
“My people are split into castes. Most of us are gales or breezes; the warrior caste and the working caste.”
Joe realized he had never discovered what race she was. It had not been one of the options he had been given.
Hah’roo: Galeling: Ranger/Spirit Dancer 22
Galeling seemed like an elemental race to Joe.
“The boreas are our leaders,” she continued. “Yet, in every generation, we are gifted by a few zephyrs. Zephyrs are holy. They instinctively live their lives in the service of others. Most tend to be monks or shamans.”
When she glanced over at him, Joe gave her a nod to keep going.
“Every galeling can sense a zephyr, and it is the duty of the gales to protect them. But it is more than just a duty. It is a great privilege. Zephyr guardians typically become our most legendary warriors. The relationship between guardian and zephyr nurtures insights that enable both to rise to soaring heights.”
She stopped pacing and turned, meeting his eyes. “I don’t understand how, but you are a zephyr. I was certain when I saw you, but even before that, I sensed something about you the moment I first stepped into Heron’s Reef.”
The troubled woman reached up and scrubbed a hand through her long blue hair. “I was hired by the Golden Edict to track a ‘vile fiend of the Gossamer realms.’” Her tone on those last words dropped into a mockingly deep voice and the pompous cadence of a certain dwarven inquisitor.
Joe smiled at the impression and asked, “You followed us from Crowfield?”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“No. We sailed into Heron’ Reef this morning and were going to trek north to join the hunt for you. As soon as Azbekt and I got off the ship, the wind told me you were near.”
She made that statement to her so matter-of-factly that Joe felt a tiny geek-out pass through him. Even though everything hurt, and there was someone just outside his room that was after him, he was in a world where the wind spoke.
“I would have had you in the marketplace,” the older huntress continued, “but Azbekt had to report in with his order first. Some regulation that absolutely had to be followed,” she sighed. “By the time those formalities were done, you had all but vanished. I could tell you had not left, but the wind would speak no more of you. It was as if breezes stopped whispering about you.”
She fixed her gaze on Joe, clearly looking for an explanation.
“I had an aura of triviality up,” he divulged.
“I thought it was something of the sort. You were not fully hidden, just obscured enough that I had to follow your traces without clues from the winds. I was able to track you to this ship, but I couldn’t tell which one of the travelers you were until I saw you on deck later that evening, healing the passengers. That was when I recognized you, both as my quarry and as a zephyr.”
“So, does this mean you are going to let me go?”
“I am afraid it doesn’t matter what I choose,” she sighed. “Azbekt now knows you are his quarry. Nothing I could say or do would divert him from exacting his duty. You will have to account yourself to him. When we reach Peregrine Harbor, he will surely invoke his [Writ of Law] against you.”
“So I need to get off this ship before we pull into port.”
“That is unlikely. The deep waters of the Strait of Gladrion would be a death sentence for you. Additionally, we are close to reaching our destination. I am sure my dwarven employer has parked himself outside your door and will be watching you like an eagle when you venture up onto the deck,” she remarked direly.
Hah’roo stepped up close to the hammock, backlit by the light coming through the porthole. “You will have to account for yourself one way or another when we reach the city, but before then, we must deal with your injuries first. Are you ready to mend those ribs?”
“Yeah, let’s get that over with. I want to be able to enjoy my leg irons without the distraction of labored breathing.”
They moved to the trunk, where he could sit without swaying. It was more difficult to point Hah’roo at the breaks in his own ribs both due to the angle and the fact there were so many more of them. The spear had split three ribs front and back and chipped others. Lining the pieces up and glueing them back together took close to half an hour. By the end of it, Joe was sweating and ashen.
“So what is the deal with you two?” Joe asked, gently rotating his arm to feel for any lingering injuries.
“I assume you mean Azbekt and me. He and I have worked together several times. We currently have a contract for services. And to one such as him, a contract is a sacred thing. He would sooner cut off his own arm than see it broken or even altered in any manner. Azbekt hired me to track an aberration, you, and bring it back to Peregrine Bay.”
Hah’roo handed him his shirt as she continued speaking. “I have been known to take contracts to hunt outlaws. Every other time I have taken such a commission, once the criminal is found, the contract is considered complete. Not with Azbekt. Since the contract contains the wording ‘return to Peregrine Bay’ in it, the dwarf will not consider it fulfilled until both of us and our captive are standing in the harbor city. So, at the moment, I am sailing back to a port I plan to leave as soon as I arrive because my employer is bound by his unalterable adherence to the most minute detail of law.”
Even in the still air of his tiny room, Hah’roo’s hair and coat seemed to ruffle in a wind that was just for her. She let out another slightly aggrieved sigh before speaking again.
“I have to admit I find myself in a strange place on this contract. Normally, the Phealtian adherence to rooting out those who cross into Illuminaria is a welcome trait. Demons, dark fey, and voidlings are threats that only those with the strongest will can face. Their rigidity of purpose is what allows them to go toe to toe with such beings of depravity, madness, and beguilement. The fact they cannot compromise is how they withstand the mental assaults of outsiders.
“Yet now I see something that has never occurred to me. Even though the One Above bids us to welcome newcomers, technically, you fit into the category of an outsider. It is strange to see such a respected warrior act with such obviously unwarranted spite. I have to keep reminding myself that this is this same dwarf who fought with me against the Nightgaunt of Sparrowwell and the Jayford Hag. Not some inquisitor of Peur'te, zealously hunting for sin.”
“So there is no bargaining room here?” Joe muttered, to which he received a blue-haired head-shake.
“I fear not, Joe. What makes a Phealtian so well suited against the glamorous of the fey or the madness of a voidling is exactly what is working against you here. Once they set their mind to a task, they cannot be swayed. Azbekt cannot be reasoned away from your capture.”
“Well, that sucks," he huffed. "Even so, I am really grateful to you. I’m pretty sure the trolls would have killed me if you hadn’t saved my ass.”
“There is no doubt. You are not well suited for combat yet,” she said bluntly. Joe knew it was true, but it hurt more to hear it so directly from someone. But Hah’roo wasn’t done. “You comported yourself admirably elsewhere, young zephyr. Many more would have died if you hadn’t acted as you did. The Wind moves through us all,” she stated like a mantra.
“What does that mean?”
“It is a philosophy of my people. We believe the good you do for those around you will blow back to you in time.”
“Huh, we call that Karma. ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’ Actually, that’s the Golden Rule, but Karma is pretty much the same thing.” Joe took a fairly deep breath without pain and let it back out. “Ok, I’m good enough. Let me take a minute to go through all my advancements, and then we’ll see who else needs patching up.”
“Good idea. Take your time. I will meet you on deck.” Moving with her almost unnatural grace, Hah’roo slipped out the door.
Joe took another deep breath. Inside himself, he was a storm of warring emotions. The crushing dread of Azbekt was tempered with an excited thrill that could only mean one thing. Joe had leveled.
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