The Bowl of Souls: Book 01.5 - Hilt's Pride (13 page)

He slid his right hand under hers. “Feel that?”

She ran her fingers down the back of his hand. She could feel the outline of his naming rune and the skin that it covered felt different, more leathery somehow. “Yes.”

“That rune means a lot of things. It is
an identification
. It ties us to our naming weapons. It is a key that gets us into places other people would not be allowed to go. It’s protection. It cannot be damaged, it cannot be removed.” He withdrew his hand and continued, “Over the years I have come to realize that the naming rune is a symbol of a promise made not by our minds, but by our souls. Believe me I have railed against it with my mind multiple times, but in the end I could no more refuse to help than I could tell my heart to stop beating.”

“Okay, I understand. You can go to sleep now,” Beth said. Hilt chuckled, shaking his head at her oddity, but said no more. He fell asleep almost instantly.

She lay awake for a while longer, her hands clenched at her sides, her heart thumping. She had no excuse to feel this way. Hilt wasn’t Coulton. She forced herself to breathe slowly and concentrated on the exhaustion she felt. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.

Half way through the night, she was snuggled up against him.

VI

“Beth . . .” Hilt whispered. “Beth!”

“Hmm?” she said, snuggling closer.

“Um, my arm is asleep. Would you mind?”

She realized that she was laying on her side, one arm and leg wrapped around him and her head was resting on his arm. She lifted her head and squinted at him, noticing that she had drooled all over his shoulder. He had to have noticed, but at least he was kind enough not to mention it. She moved her leg and arm off of him and sat up. The sky was blue and brightening. It was morning.

She gave him a suspicious look. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” Hilt said, wincing as he massaged his tingling arm. “But you were snoring so peacefully, I hesitated to wake you.”

“No, was I really?” He chuckled and she put her face in her hands. How humiliating. Coulton had never complained about her snoring, but Old Bob used to tease her about it. “Oh, I am so sorry.”

“Not at all,” Hilt said a grin. He stood and began folding the blanket. “I slept quite well actually once you stopped asking me for stories. The night was . . . quite comfortable.”

Beth frowned trying to gauge his meaning. She watched him place the blanket back into his pack and put his
swordbelt
back on before she gave up. What did it matter? They would reach the peak that day and then Hilt could part ways with her. There was no reason to dwell on her actions during the night. The situation would not repeat itself. For some reason the thought made her sad.

A whistle echoed from beyond the camp and Yntri
Yni
entered with a bowl full of small greenish berries and four bulbous pieces of root.

“Is that breakfast you have, Yntri? Thank you!” Hilt said he glanced at Beth. “See, I told you Yntri was the perfect travel companion.”

“What is it?” Beth asked as the elf held the bowl out to her.

“Frost berries and winnow root,” Hilt said, popping a few berries into his mouth. “They aren’t very flavorful, but not bad. These are two of the staples a traveler can scavenge for in higher altitudes like this. I am actually quite impressed that Yntri knows about them since this is such a different environment than the land he is from.”

Yntri spoke at Hilt for several moments, his voice clicking with irritation and the warrior nodded, looking quite embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Yntri. I will try not to let that happen again.”

“What was that about?” Beth asked.

“Uh, since we have been traveling with you, I have gotten into the habit of talking about him instead of to him. He was just reminding me that he is standing right here.” Hilt gave Yntri an apologetic smile.
“But seriously, Beth.
Try the food. We have a ways yet to go today.”

Beth tried the berries. Hilt was right. They were only vaguely sweet, but edible. The warrior took one of the roots and peeled back the rough outer skin with his knife. The skin came off quite easily in long strips and Hilt gave her one. It had a clean crisp taste and a consistency very much like an apple.

“This is quite good, Yntri. Thank you,” she said.

The elf nodded and bit into one of the roots
himself
. He didn’t bother peeling it. While he munched on it, he walked over and climbed the tree he had stayed in during the night. For the first time, Beth noticed a large pile of wood shavings at the base of the tree. What had the elf been up to?

A few moments later, the elf slid back down the trunk. Beth winced, knowing what such a slide would have done to her bare feet. In one hand, Yntri held a small wooden bowl and in the other, he carried a bow. He had a wide grin on his ancient face, and he gestured to her, smiling as he clicked at her.

 “Beth, this bow is for you.” Hilt said in surprise. He gave her an impressed look. “This is amazing. Yntri is one of the greatest weapon makers alive. He has made weapons exclusively for the
Roo
-tan for centuries, so to make this for you
is
the rarest of exceptions.”

Beth looked at the bow more closely as the elf approached. The wood was stained
a dark
ebony and the handle was wrapped with viper skin. Tiny runic symbols had been carved along its length but they weren’t symbols she recognized. She was pretty sure they weren’t elemental runes at all. Perhaps they were words in Yntri’s language.

The importance of this gift settled upon her. Beth could not think of a proper way to respond, so she did something she hadn’t done since she was a child. She gave the elf a deep curtsey. “Thank you, Yntri. I-I don’t know what to say. I am honored, but . . . but why would you make this for me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Yntri gave her a kind smile and clicked his response. “Yntri says that when he listened to your heart, your spirit cried out to him. It has been a long time since he has crafted a weapon that wasn’t made from Jharro wood. But the Jharro Grove only gives weapons to its protectors and he knew he had to make you this bow.”

Beth reached for the bow. “I will cherish it always. Thank-.”

Yntri pulled the bow back and waggled a finger. “He says that there is something you must do before you can wield the bow.”

“The sapling he found was strong and lively. It shaped itself to him willingly, but the viper gave conditions, he . . .” Hilt frowned. “I am not quite sure how to translate this. Yntri, would you repeat that last part?”

The elf clicked some more, motioning at the bow while he talked and Hilt looked quite perplexed at first, but finally he nodded. “He says that he took the soul of the viper you killed and bound it to the bow.”

“The soul of the viper?”
Beth said. She shifted to mage sight and looked at the bow. She saw nothing. No magical elements at all. “How could he do that?”

Yntri explained. “He says that he is a soul taster and a shaper. It is how he makes the weapon to fit the wielder. He inserted the viper’s fangs into the handle, then combined the fat, brains, and venom of the viper and used it to polish the wood. He then wrapped the handle with the viper’s skin and coated the bow with sap from the Jharro tree so that it would cure quickly and bind the viper’s soul to the bow.

“He says that you were the one that killed the viper and that you consumed its flesh, so he already had a link to work with. But the . . .” Hilt scratched his head and he sounded a bit unsure when he continued, “The viper is . . . perturbed at you. He says it was upset that you did not fight it fairly. He explained to it that this was how a human defeats a viper, but it is insistent. The viper will only bend its will to yours if you let it bite you first.”  

“What?” Beth said in both confusion and alarm.

Yntri shook his head and clicked some more.

“Oh,” Hilt said. “Sorry, I was a bit off with that last part. He says that the viper will only bend its will to you if you taste its venom. Once you do that, the link will be complete.”

Yntri lifted the small wooden bowl in his other hand and Beth saw that it contained a pink waxy paste.

“Is that the same stuff you polished the bow with?”

Yntri nodded.

“I don’t want to taste that,” Beth said. Snake brains and venom weren’t something any sane person would eat. Besides, she had studied at the
Mage
School
for several years and this just wasn’t the way magic worked. “Really, why I would want a snake’s soul bound to me, anyway?”

Yntri’s eyes widened and he put a finger to his lips. “Yntri says that now is not the time to offend it,” Hilt translated. “He says that even the smallest of souls are powerful things and that the soul of a viper is a very useful companion for an archer to have.”

Beth winced. This was obviously important to Yntri, but the idea was still ridiculous. “Yntri, I do not want to offend you or the snake, but I looked at the bow with my mage sight and there is no magic in it. I-I respect your traditions, but do we really have to go through with this part?”

Yntri laughed then, long and hard. “He says that your
Mage
School
has forgotten the old ways. He says that the power of the spirit can not be seen by your mage eyes. This is why the wizards don’t understand his people’s ways and also why they don’t understand the prophet’s ways.” The withered old elf’s face grew serious then. He clicked out a very clear question. “He asks you to show him some of that same faith you showed the prophet.”

The request caught her off guard. He had a point. What reason did she have to doubt him? Beth pushed away her misgivings. “Okay Yntri. What do I need to do?”

The elf slung the new bow over one shoulder,
then
stood in front of her. He reached two fingers into the bowl and scooped out a glob of the pink waxy substance and clicked instructions.

Hilt stood at her side, offering calm assurance. “He says stand very still. He is going to place the venom of the viper on your lips. When he does, the snake will attack. Stand firm against it. Withstand its bite and bend it to your will. Then the bow will be yours.”

“Is this going to hurt?”

She looked into the elf’s ancient eyes and felt a sense of calm wash over her. This was a gift and Yntri was a friend. He would not hurt her. Besides, Hilt was by her side. Everything would be all right.

Yntri raised the two fingers to her face and she smelled nothing. He rubbed the paste across her lips, pushing some of it into her mouth. It tasted like mint, with just the slightest metallic aftertaste. Beth realized that she
was tasting
the sap of the Jharro tree.
A warmth
spread from her lips across her face and down her throat followed by numbness. Then
came
the burn. It started at her lips and tongue,
then
spread up her face and down her throat.

She closed her eyes and the visage of the viper rose before her. It hissed and struck, sinking its fangs into her lips. There was no pain, but she felt it pierce her flesh. She reached up, grasped the snake around the back of its head and squeezed, forcing its mouth open. She pulled it away from her face and glared at it. Its eyes met hers and she felt its acceptance.

When Beth opened her eyes, the world was blurry and bouncing back and forth around her. She couldn’t feel her face. She could still feel the skin of the viper in her hand, but it was stiff and unyielding. Beth realized that she had the handle of the bow gripped in her fist.  

She blinked a few times, and the world cleared somewhat. She was leaning forward, resting on something. She turned her head and looked right into Hilt’s ear. Somehow she was hanging onto him, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck and he was hiking along, holding onto her legs,
carrying
her on his back.

“Hilt, put me downed,” she said. Her lips were numb, but at least they still worked.

“Beth! You’re awake!” he said.

“Put me down, Hilt!”

He crouched and let go of her legs so that she could stand. Once she had her feet under her, she pushed away from him and swung around looking for Yntri. The elf stood not far away, grinning at her. She would have stormed over to him if she had full control of her legs. Instead she stumbled towards him.