Chapter 2 - The Vision
Hal came to a decision.
He decided that work, in general, wouldn't be such bad a thing if people didn't have to get tired and sweaty as a result. If that was the case, Hal believed that people would be almost eager to work. That they'd learn to have some fun with it.
It's too bad that people get tired, Hal thought in silent corollary.
The sun was a pale disk on the horizon, slowly fleeing from the approaching night. Hal could feel the way the air continued to chill ever so slightly against his skin as the sky slowly darkened. Even the keep itself smelled different at the end of the day. William the baker had ceased his work for the evening, giving the air only a lingering reminder of the so sweet scents of day. Also, the stable boys had finished their cleaning of the horse's corrals, consequently adding to, rather than taking away from the clear scent of the evening. The courtyard itself was actually clear of people for the most part, save for the two guards on watch at the gate and Hal, who was still leaning on the haft of his axe before one of the many practice dummies.
The practice dummy was solid oak and vaguely shaped like a man with its carved out head, shoulders and torso. There were deep scores along it's frame where chunks of wood had been bashed out during dozens of previous exercises with dozens of previous trainees. At some point in time, some aesthetic minded person had actually gone to the trouble of varnishing the dummy, trying to make it look more presentable. But, after all the abuse that it had taken over the years, few people ever actually noticed that individual's efforts.
Hal was one of them.
There was a bird, perched high atop the tallest tower of the keep, warbling a soft, melancholy tune. It's song gave Hal the distinct impression of heart-rending sorrow and loss. A peculiar melody to be certain, especially coming from a creature traditionally thought of as being joyous and carefree, flitting from one moment to the next like they were the branches of a tree. Most would have simply disregarded this odd occurrence as simply that, an odd occurrence. Just something strange that happened.
But not Hal.
He wondered what it was that could make a bird sad.
Perhaps one or more of its eggs had been stolen from its nest when she (assuming it was a female) was away. That would make most parents sad, Hal assumed. It had hurt him greatly to have been without his parents when he was younger, so he naturally assumed that the feeling of loss would work both ways. Also, there was the possibility that the bird's eggs had somehow been harmed. Perhaps her nest fell out of its tree for some reason?
Another idea could be that it had lost its mate. Hal was pretty sure that he remembered hearing of some types of birds that mated for life, though he had absolutely no idea if this bird was one of them. But, assuming that this was one of those birds, that would certainly explain the sorrowful song.
Hal could picture the scene in his mind. Both the bird and it's mate would have been soaring effortlessly through the air on those magnificently feathered wings of theirs, (briefly Hal wondered what it would be like to fly like the birds, but quickly shoved the idea aside for later consideration). They would be flying along, just as happy as can be when the mate would have been struck down. How, or why didn't really matter, but Hal pictured a hunter's arrow sluicing through the air, a slight hissing sound the only warning before it struck the defenseless bird.
Hal ceased his rhythmic swinging of attack patterns and leaned against the dummy for a moment, lowering his battle-axe to the ground. He looked up at the bird and listened to its song, enthralled by the bittersweet sound. After a few more minutes of singing, the bird casually took flight and soared off into the coming darkness of night. Deep down Hal hoped that none of his guesses had been right and that the bird was just feeling sad as he sometimes did. Not for any real reason other than for being sad. Softly sighing to himself, Hal retrieved his axe and went back to work on the dummy.
He had been lacklusterly swinging his heavy, uncouth weapon for close to two hours now and his arms and shoulders were burning with fatigue. After the incident in the village Hal had been uncomfortable at the thought of training with his fellow guardsmen, and guardsmen-in-training. They ridiculed him enough about the things he didn't do. Even though Hal knew intellectually that few, if any, of the guardsmen actually knew what happened that day. All of them had seen him return to the keep, soaked from head to toe in water... again. Hal just didn't want to give them any more bolts for their verbal crossbows than they already had. While he could take the abuse without losing his temper, he'd rather not to have to take it at all. Some of the things that were said towards him were mean and, in many ways, downright cruel. "The big, stupid oaf" was usually how their insults started and more often than not ended with phrases that would make ladies blush and leave the room.
But Hal never got mad at them. What was the point? Getting mad would force him to fight. And he could not, in good conscience, fight with one of the other guardsmen over mere words. No matter how harsh they may be.
However, harsh words towards Lady Tasha...
He shook his head. Muttering wordlessly to himself, forcing that errant thought to the very back of his mind where things usually got lost and were never found again.
He kept up his rhythmic swinging. Overhand. Backhand. Reverse sweep. Uppercut. Overhand. Backhand. Reverse sweep. Uppercut. Fluid, powerful, repetitive motions that really didn't require much actual thought after one got going. Hence, the reason behind his stray ideas.
Ever so faintly behind him, Hal heard the soft scuff of a leather sandal on the flagstones of the courtyard.
He didn't think, (an all-too-common practice for Hal). One second, he was swinging a reverse sweep at the dummy. The next, he was using his forward momentum to swivel about on the ball of one foot, his axe hurtling on a downwards angle at precisely where the base of a normal man's neck would connect with his shoulders.
At the last possible second Hal pulled back and stopped the blade's lethal motion. Right there before him stood the Captain of the Guard and the man who had taken him in as one of his own. Lord Aeros.
Aeros' face remained perfectly impassive as he watched the wide, sharp blade arcing forcefully towards his body in what would have been a killing blow. He merely blinked once as the weapon jerked suddenly back out of harm's way. Hal quickly apologized for his near fatal error and carefully placed his axe on the ground.
Casually, Aeros retrieved his deep, wooden pipe from a fold in his coat and ran his fingers through his rapidly thinning shock of gray hair before speaking. "Careful now, lad. You wouldn't want to hurt anybody." Pulling out his tobacco wallet, Aeros pinched up a little bit of the earthy brown grass and packed it into the wattle. "So," he went on nonchalantly, after lighting his pipe with a burning twig and taking a few puffs from it. "I was speaking with the boys in the mess. They said that you didn't come in for either breakfast or lunch." He puffed once more, letting out a single ring of smoke. "Are you not hungry?"
Hal's reply was interrupted by an impossibly loud rumble from the general area of his stomach. The large young man blushed and lowered his eyes, unable to meet the gaze of the man who had cared for him when none else would.
Aeros sat down on a nearby bench and waited for Hal to join him. Seeing that there wouldn't be enough room for both of them on the same bench, Hal opted instead to sit cross-legged on the ground. Aeros shrugged. "So. Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?"
Hal remained silent for quite a while. Aeros waited patiently, knowing that it would take time for the gentle, young man to compose his, most likely, jumbled thoughts. "I... I don't know."
Aeros didn't say anything for a few moments, he just sat and quietly puffed on his pipe. "Does this have something to do with what happened in Milton today?" Hal's head snapped up, the look of surprise vivid on his face. Aeros smiled slightly. "I found out from one of the merchants that the keep deals with. He claims to have seen the whole thing."
> Hal looked away again, suddenly embarrassed. Aeros continued, leaning forward slightly. "You did a very good thing Hal. You protected Lady Tasha from four armed cutthroats without seriously hurting them or yourself in the process." He leaned back and took another thoughtful drag on his pipe before going on. "I don't think that I could have done that, my boy." He chuckled. "So you slipped up in the end and got a bit drenched. Is that why you're upset and didn't want to say anything? Because you got all wet?"
Hal shook his head slowly, stray locks of his sweat-damp hair falling over his eyes, blocking out his face in the dim light.
"Then what is it? Normally you tell me everything, what's the difference this time?"
He moistened his lips with a quick flick of his tongue. When he spoke, it was almost too quiet to hear. "Tasha asked me not to."
The elder man was still puzzled. He motioned with his pipe. "That's never stopped you before. You know that you can trust me."
Hal paused again. "Well, the other times, she would just ask me not to tell. But this time she... didn't really ask. It was more like, she..." He was unable to finish.
Aeros picked it up for him a rueful smile on his dry lips. "She ordered you not to speak of it to anyone." Hal nodded. The Captain of the Guard leaned back again and thought on it, puffing contentedly. "Well, that explains quite a bit." He smiled down at his son. "You've always had a strong sense of duty, even before I showed you how to use it correctly.
"But, even so," Aeros went on. "You've been ordered to keep silent about other things before, often about things more important than Lady Tasha's pride. And always before you've at least hinted to me that something was going on. Why's this time so different, lad?"
Hal couldn't bring himself to answer as a slow flush crept up his face.
Aeros nodded, a small knowing smile on his lips. "I see." The older man smiled contentedly and looked the large young man that he still had trouble thinking of as being more than a boy, and felt proud. As proud as any true father could feel.
Clumsily, Hal tried to change the subject. "I just wish I knew why she... Lady Tasha, felt the need to order me. She's never had to before."
Smiling tolerantly Aeros allowed the subject to change and responded. "Well, the way I hear it is that Lady Tasha was a wee bit upset with you after you saved her life... " Aeros paused mid-sentence, realizing what he'd just said but shrugged it off. He also knew what Lady Tasha was like. "As well," he continued blandly. "She probably just felt the need to keep this unfortunate little incident from her father, most likely to keep him from worrying every time that she leaves the keep. Then she probably got a bit frustrated at the thought of trying to keep this from Baron Tyren and decided to make sure that no one found out, thus causing her to express her frustration on the person she felt was responsible for causing her frustration. Namely, you." Hal raised his head and looked at Aeros for the first time during the whole conversation.
Aeros reached out and tousled the lad's haystack of scraggly brown hair. "Don't take it personally, my boy. It's just something that goes along with being a noble. When you're frustrated, take it out on the nearest person of lower rank than you." Aeros politely refrained from expressing his opinion that it had more to do with Tasha being a noblewoman, than just merely a noble.
Hal shrugged slightly, not really understanding, but willing to accept what Aeros said at face value. Aeros tried to return to the more personal topic at hand. "Are you going to tell her, lad? If you're feeling for her that badly you should at least say something to her."
The large youth gazed up at his mentor, his usual baffled expression spread across his features. "What do you mean, 'feeling badly'? I'm not sick."
Aeros gazed at his protege disapprovingly for a quick moment. Hal had the grace to lower his eyes again and look properly embarrassed. "Come on, Hal. You know bloody well what I'm talking about."
"I know, I know," Hal sighed, waving one hand absently at his mentor. "It's just that... " He trailed off, not having the faintest clue what it was 'just'. He tried again. "You see, I can't... I don't... " Again he broke off. Frustrated, he blurted out "Well what the hell am I supposed to tell her if I don't know for sure what I feel?"
"Well, let's narrow it down a bit." Aeros gazed up at the new stars in the sky (there are new stars every night, one could never see them all at once because there are just too many). "Do you like her?"
"Of course I like her. She's the first girl I've ever met who didn't look at me like I was some sort of... freak." Hal trailed off, staring down into his hands as if they were hideous claws. "Look at me," he whispered. "I'm huge. I tower over just about everybody. I can crush empty barrels with my bare hands. I can toss a full grown man fifty feet through the air... " He paused to reconsider what he'd just said. "Well, ten, anyways." He took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. "I'm a freak, Aeros. And it hurts. Lady Tasha's the first woman I've ever met who's been able to look beyond that." He lowered his head into his hands.
"So... of course I like her," Hal's muffled voice came from behind his fingers. "I think about her all the time. But is that... ? You know... That?"
Aeros sighed, shaking his head. "Nobody can answer that for you, lad. It's something that you have to figure out for yourself."
Hal snorted derisively. "Swell. I was really made for figuring' stuff out, wasn't I?"
Aeros shrugged noncommittally. "Who knows, lad? Who knows?" With a grunt, the Captain of the Guard rose from the bench with the loud cracking of stiff knees and back. He pressed a hand to a particularly sore spot. "So, are you coming home for dinner or what?"
Hal stood up as well, his shadow quickly engulfing his mentor's form. He moved to one side to allow some moonlight to touch the smaller man. "Not just yet. I want to finish up out here first."
Aeros nodded and tapped out his pipe against the side of the bench. "All right, lad. But don't be too long. If the food dries up in the dishes before you get home, you're the one who'll be cleaning them out." He started to trudge away into the night's shadows.
It took Hal a few moments for Aeros' last words to register. "But, I wash the dishes every night anyways," he called out.
Aeros looked over his shoulder and smiled. "So, unless you want to make things tough on yourself, I suggest that you hurry home."
Hal chuckled softly to himself and turned to look over at the oaken practice dummy with a blank expression for several moments. It really was a beautiful night.
He examined the dummy with a certain scrutiny that he hadn't used before. He let his eyes meander from the base to the very top, burning every line, every scrape and every inch of it into his mind.
Then he began to focus. It was something that he'd learned to do when he was younger and living on his own. The ability to draw all of your unhealthy energies, feelings and thoughts into one source. Hal had found it to be an excellent calming technique for the times when he was stressed out and ready to scream in frustration.
Into this pool of energy went every snide remark that the other guardsmen had made towards him in the last week. Along with it went the humiliation of being shoved into the keep's well in his dress uniform. That was immediately followed by the memory of himself walking back into the keep after his dunking in the fountain. Finally he threw in every thought that he had about Lady Tasha, both good and bad.
Then, once he had reached the focal point of his negative energies, Hal slowly bent down and retrieved his axe from the courtyard floor.
Assuming a loose, two handed grip, the big young man took a step back. Then another. And then a third. Bracing himself, Hal took three, deep breaths. On the third and last breath, Hal took in as much air as he could and held it for as long as possible.
Abruptly, Hal surged forward like an erupting volcano, the pent up breath exploding in a bestial roar from between his clenched teeth.
Hal's axe struck the practice dummy with a force powerful enough to rival that of a charging bison. The blade sheared through the
oaken target, utterly shattering it beyond any feasible hope of repair. Splinters flew into the air and settled to earth as far as twenty feet away.
Relaxed, his mind still cluttered with stray thoughts, but relaxed, Hal ran a hand through his unruly shock of hair and wiped the sweat off his brow. Then he slipped his axe into its loop along his belt and attached the leather safety sheathe overtop the blade before turning and heading towards home where his dinner was undoubtedly getting cold.
Hal was halfway home before he realized that he was absently humming the tune that the bird had been singing under his breath.