Lilith… This monster killed Lilith.
Anger burned in Hal’s chest, but of a different kind than he’d been expecting. He was mad for being left alive. He was supposed to be dead, and he was ready for it. Ready to give himself over to whatever waited beyond life’s confines.
The Collected Provinces were mostly secular, outside of Terth, the most northern of the remaining six. Hal and his family had never worshipped any gods, or for that matter, given in to any superstitions beyond what could be proven and verified.
He didn’t care if all that awaited him after the monster finally became bored enough to give its claws a squeeze was a dark abyss. Wherever Lilith, and Mauve, and his father had gone was where he felt like he deserved to be.
The thought stayed with him for only a short while before he drifted off into a lightheaded daze. He wasn’t aware of the dragon or their flight, even as minutes turned to hours. He was back on his estate. He and Lilith were in Roth’s library, eating apples they’d pinched from the kitchens and hiding from the cook.
Father’s finally seen my point of view. Mauve’s going to help me train and pick out a sword…
The monster gave him a rough shake. Hal gasped, suddenly snapping back to reality. He was still held by the claw, and the creature was still in flight. His breath came out in a white fog, and the tears had frozen to his cheek in long, frosty streaks. Hal realized that he was shivering, but couldn’t feel the cold, either from the numbness of being exposed for so long, or just plain shock.
He heard a roar escape the creature’s evil maw, and then it began to sink and circle toward the ground. Hal closed his eyes, expecting that it would soon be over. He pictured himself being dropped into a nest of similar reptiles, maybe freshly born ones still too young to hunt for themselves.
Hal’s body whipped into a violent bounce within the creature’s claw as they landed. One of the claw’s pushed hard against his gut as it lifted him back into the air, not cutting into the soft flesh there, but hitting hard enough to make him cough.
He tried to focus, but it was still night, and a darker night than the one that’d reigned over the sky back at the estate. He could see a single light, barely more than a dimmed fire or small torch in the distance. He hung limply from the monster’s claw, as pathetic as any man could ever fear to be.
He looked over his shoulder in time to see the man on the back of the monster gesturing toward the ground. The monster let out a roar that sounded decidedly displeased, and then flung Hal away. He screamed as he felt the tips of its claws tearing through the flesh of his chest as it let go.
He hit the grass hard, rolling painfully for several feet before coming to a rest on his back. He felt the earth underneath him shake, and glanced over to see the dragon taking flight again, its rider still on its back. His mind couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, and if it wasn’t for the pressing intensity of his wounds, he would have thought himself dreaming.
Hal heard the creak of a wooden door opening, and then approaching footsteps. He closed his eyes, finding that he was too exhausted to make even an attempt at keeping them open.
“Oh no!” A female voice cut through the night. “Oh no! For Mystra’s sake, you’re all cut up!”
…Lilith?
“I’m going to get you inside!” said the girl. “Please, try to relax as much as you’re able!”
Hal felt hands grabbing under his shoulders. He groaned as a dozen different injuries burned with pain. The girl made an attempt at lifting him, and Hal heard her let out a surprised squeal as she failed and fell to the ground next to him.
“Sorry!” said the girl. “You’re… kind of heavy. I might have to drag you. I’m so sorry, but I can’t think of what else to do!”
Hal didn’t have the strength to answer her, even with just a nod. His eyes were already closed, and he felt his awareness slipping deeper into the dark.
***
The bed was soft. Hal felt his sheets being pulled back, and slowly let himself wake up. The sensitivity of his eyes matched the sensitivity of his battered body, and for a moment, he couldn’t make them focus.
“Oh,” said the girl. “You’re awake. That’s a relief.”
Hal took a slow, uneasy breath and looked around. He was in a small room, no bigger than the average closet back in his family’s house. A sunbeam cut diagonally across from a window directly behind his head, illuminating the room’s other occupant.
It wasn’t Lilith. For a moment, that was the only thing that mattered to Hal. Part of him had already known. The girl spoke with an odd, though not entirely unpleasant accent. Hal blinked several times and focused his attention onto her.
She smiled as soon as they made eye contact, and again, he thought of Lilith and her bright disposition. The girl had a plain face, but with big blue eyes that made up for it. Her hair was blonde, rather than red, and only the tips had any curve, unlike Lilith’s buoyant, bouncing spirals.
“You’re okay,” said the girl. “You’re in my homestead. Safe from the dragon, at least for now. My name is Laurel.”
She waited, her smile refusing to fade, her eyes holding his. She was older than Lilith, too, still younger than Hal, but within a year or two of his own age. She had a short, slim figure, and wore a loose dress that was a good deal shabbier than anything he’d seen back in Cardvale.
“The dragon scratched you up pretty bad,” said Laurel. “Honestly, it’s a miracle that you’re even alive. I still have trouble believing it. The cuts on your back are wide, but they barely scraped into your skin. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Hal didn’t say anything. He honestly didn’t want to talk, and knew that even if he’d tried, the lump in his throat would have stopped him.
“Can you tell me what happened?” asked Laurel.
The events of the night flashed before him. He saw Lilith and Mauve, pushed up against the crowd, seeking a view outside. The flames exploding through the windows. His sister fading to ash and his father smoldering and screaming.
I never apologized to him. He died with our last interaction being a fight over nothing.
Tears welled up in Hal’s eyes. He felt so ashamed, and so impotent. His family was gone, murdered in front of him, and he’d completely failed at saving any of them. He remembered shooting his pistol, watching the lead ball completely miss. His father had been right. He was useless as a warrior, a failure when it came to taking action when it mattered.
“Oh no!” Laurel bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking!”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. Hal felt her dabbing the tears away from his cheeks. The tenderness in her movements only made them flow more freely. He shut his eyes tight, but it didn’t change anything, and only made him feel like he was trying to hide from reality.
“It’s okay,” said Laurel. “You’ve been through so much. Just rest for now. As long as you need to. The Matron is watching over you.”
CHAPTER 5
When Hal next awoke, it was to the sound of gentle music coming from just beyond the door to his room. He’d never heard the song before, but it sounded like it originated from a wind instrument, perhaps a flute. A foot was tapping along to the melody, keeping time with the soft, lilting notes.
The song ended, and a few minutes passed before the door to his room finally opened. Laurel walked through it, carrying a wooden tray with a bowl and a small jug on top of it. She flinched when she saw that Hal was awake, clearly startled.
“Oh!” she said. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I would have practiced outside, but even up here in the valley, it gets really hot in the sun around midday.”
Hal shook his head, even though her music had been what had awakened him. In any case, he was glad to be up. His thoughts turned to what he could remember, slowly assessing everything that had happened. The unexpected catastrophe, the unbridled agony and despair that had struck his family…
Keep it together. You’ll have ti
me to mourn once you’ve figured things out.
“Was it… a flute?” he managed to ask. His vocal cords were scratchy, and felt out of use. Just how long had he been asleep for, he wondered?
“Yes!” said Laurel. “Just a small, wooden one. My brother Willum bought it for me when we first moved out here.”
Hal nodded. He had more questions for her, but his mind was still foggy, and he found it impossible to sort out which one to ask first. The room smelled of sawdust and incense. His body still hurt when he shifted around, but the pain was far more manageable than it had been the last time he’d been awake.
“So…” Laurel walked over to a chair set next to his bed and carefully sat down in it. “I think I asked you the wrong question first last time. Can you just tell me your name, at least to start?”
Hal took a second to collect himself. He could answer her questions. He wouldn’t break down again, not over things he couldn’t change. At least not in front of anyone else, if he could help it.
“Halrin,” he said. “Halrin Kentar.”
Laurel smiled at him. Hal noticed that she had dimples on either side of her mouth, and they were by far the most prominent feature of her face.
“Halrin Kentar,” she repeated.
Hal managed a small nod.
“Voiceman Kentar is my father,” he said.
Laurel’s smile wilted into a frown.
“Voiceman?” she asked. “Is that some kind of title? Like a Lord, or a Maxim?”
Hal furrowed his brow at her.
“It’s… a voiceman,” he said. “A member of the senate. An elected representative.”
It felt strange explaining it, but judging from what he saw on Laurel’s face, it was clearly necessary. Was he that far from home, for it to warrant explanation? The Collected Provinces stretched from the impassable western ocean to the edge of the eastern deserts, which hadn’t been verifiably crossed in nearly two hundred years.
“I’ve never heard of that before,” said Laurel. “Where are you from, Hal? You don’t mind if I call you Hal, do you?”
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’m from Cardvale. In the Collected Provinces.”
Laurel recognized something in what he said this time. Her face scrunched up in surprise, and she slowly shook her head.
“That dragon must have dropped you harder than I’d realized,” she said. “For Mystra’s sake… The Collected Provinces? I don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention them since I studied under Ardwell, back in the capital.”
It was Hal’s turn to be confused. Laurel seemed very sure of what she was saying, sure enough to make him feel a sudden need to justify himself.
“That’s where I’m from,” he said. “Where are we? And where is this capital you mentioned?”
Laurel looked uncomfortable, but she was kind enough to set her hand on his shoulder as she explained. “You’re in Fool’s Valley,” she said. “Just north of the southern desert outside of Krestia’s Cradle. One of the many border regions administered to by Maxim Cedric.”
Hal rubbed at his temples with his fingers. He’d only recognized a word or two of what she’d just said, and wondered if perhaps her accent was getting in the way of his understanding.
“Krestia,” he repeated. “That was… the seventh province. The one that rebelled during the Traitor’s War.”
“Krestia’s Cradle,” corrected Laurel. “Nobody calls it Krestia, at least not that I’ve heard.”
She reached for the bowl as though seeking an excuse to move the conversation onto something else. Scooping up a spoonful of porridge, she brought it over to him, letting it hover in front of his mouth. “It’s oatmeal with applesauce mixed in. It should be nice and sweet, if you feel up to eating.”
Before Hal could answer, she’d thrust to spoon into his mouth. He felt the wood clack against his teeth, and then tasted mushed oats, apple, and cinnamon. It was incredible, and as intended, it banished any thoughts from his mind other than filling his stomach.
“You should focus on recovering, Hal,” said Laurel. “Dragon attacks usually leave people a little shaken up. There’s room on my homestead for you to stay until you’re… making a little more sense.”
“Dragon attacks…” said Hal. “Are they common here? And the man riding it… Do you know who he was? Was this some kind of act of war?”
Laurel opened her mouth, and then closed it. She winced slightly as she looked at him, as though sympathizing with the pain and disorientation he’d been through.
“It shook you up bad, didn’t it?” she said. “I don’t mean to call your memories into question, but people don’t ride dragons. It’s just an old myth. And the dragon doesn’t really show itself in Fool’s Valley that often, so no, attacks aren’t common. Despite what you may have heard.”
Hal swallowed a bite of porridge and shook his head.
“I haven’t heard anything,” he said. “To be honest, I’m shaken up, but I’m not confused.”
Laurel nodded, but her expression was still skeptical.
“Of course you aren’t,” she said. “I believe you.”
She went on to talk about her brother, the recent weather, and the apple trees she had on the property. Hal was barely listening, distracted by his own thoughts. It pained him to think of Lilith, Mauve, and his father, but he couldn’t stop his mind from pulling in that direction.
Slowly, as though sweeping up and sorting through the shards of a broken vase, Hal sorted the painful memories of his experience with the monster at his family’s estate. He found that as he pushed through his grief, the only thing waiting for him on the other side was an intense, overwhelming anger. He wanted revenge more than he’d ever wanted anything before in his entire life.
“The monster,” he said, interrupting Laurel’s chatter. “You’re sure that it was a dragon?”
“It’s the desert dragon.” Laurel frowned, as though naming it would bring bad luck.
Hal had read about dragons a few times before in various ancient elven texts Roth had given him to translate. Once or twice, he’d read about them in historical works written by humans. Other than observations about their destructive powers, not much had been recorded about them. The drawings he’d seen of them didn’t even come close to doing the monster he’d witnessed the night before justice.
“Yes,” said Hal. “Does it live around here? You sound like you’re familiar with it.”
She gave a slow nod. “It roosts nearby,” she said. “Can you stand? I can take you outside to show you about where it nests.”
Hal sat up as much as he could. Laurel had taken off most of his clothing to bandage his wounds. He hobbled to his feet, awkwardly holding one of the sheets to cover himself. A flash of panic went through him as he reached to his neck. The necklace Lilith had given him was gone…
“Oh!” Laurel said, quickly. “I forgot about that. Your gemstone, I took it off while I was getting you cleaned up. It’s over here.”
She quickly walked over to the bed stand and lifted the small stone necklace. Hal frowned as he looked at it, slowly shaking his head. The once clear stone hanging from the leather cord was now a deep, vibrant red.
“I didn’t realize you walked the path of the ruby,” said Laurel. “Maybe that’s why you survived the dragon’s onslaught to begin with.”
“The path… of the ruby?” Hal was annoyed at how confusing almost everything she said to him was. Especially given how Laurel seemed to take it as more evidence of what she deemed to be trauma induced confusion, or amnesia.
“You were a gem mage before you came here, right?” said Laurel. “That’s all I meant.”
“A gem mage?” The phrase held no real meaning for Hal. He’d read about mages and wizards in some of the books in Roth’s library, but those had all just been stories.
“I also took off your belt,” said Laurel. “Can you tell me what this thing is? I didn’t mess around with it. Well, not that much. I’ve never seen anything like it…”
> She lifted Hal’s pistol in her hand, her finger sliding into the trigger far too casually. She flashed an oblivious smile at Hal and pointed the barrel in his face.
“Easy!” he shouted. “Just… put that down.”
It was unloaded, but the reaction was buried deep in his instincts. Laurel frowned, looking confused. Hal did the math in his head, realizing that pistols had only been invented a little over fifty years earlier in the Collected Provinces. If he really was in Krestia, it was possible that they didn’t have blackpowder weapons.
He decided to drop his questions for the moment, wanting to stretch his legs more than he needed answers. He started to slide the sheets back before remembering how close to being naked he was.
“I can help you dress, if you’d like,” said Laurel. She stood up, and Hal got another shock. She was wearing pants now, rather than a dress. Hal blushed fiercely and glanced away from her. Back in the Collected Provinces, the only women who wore pants usually worked out of brothels, or did it for their husbands at night, in the bedroom.
“No,” he said, quickly. “I can… dress myself.”
CHAPTER 6
Laurel left the room, and Hal struggled into his clothing. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she’d mended the tears in his shirt from where the dragon’s claws had dug into him. It was evidence of just how long he’d been asleep for, days, rather than hours.
His legs had fared better than his upper body, which was still bruised, scabbed, and painful. He walked through the door of the small bedroom and out into a sitting room. There was a hearth on one side, a desk in the corner, another door leading to what Hal assumed to be a second bedroom, and a bookshelf beside a cozy reading chair. The entire house might have fit into the servant’s kitchen back on his family’s estate, and would have been dwarfed by his father’s palatial bedroom.
Heartgem Homestead Page 3