Heartgem Homestead

by Edmund Hughes

  “You will need to know of the Temple’s legends,” said Cadrian. “You’ll be expected to if you wish to avoid attracting attention when interacting with other gem holders.”

  “That doesn’t matter to me,” said Hal. “I only need to know how the magic behind it works.”

  Cadrian didn’t seem to hear him.

  “The Matron, Lyris, was never a mortal like you or I,” said Cadrian. “She was the one true voice. She was the queen of Bliss, where the virtuous go after death. Melgar ruled opposite her, the lord of Misery, where the unworthy face their fates.”

  Hal listened to her words, feeling a little intrigued.

  “By the Temple’s doctrine, The Matron speaks to all of us in her own, subtle way,” said Cadrian. “But the Five Blessed were those who she chose, above all else, to spread her message and her magic to the masses.”

  Hal nodded. This was all new to him, and he found himself wondering when the odd religion had first taken hold. He’d never read of it in any of the accounts left from the time before the Traitor’s War. That meant it had either been a secret of Krestia’s Cradle in the time before then, or it had sprung up within the last two hundred years.

  “Mystra, The Wanderer, Queen of Diamond. Darros, The Flame, King of Ruby. Pailla, The Tear, Queen of Sapphire. Kardel, The Rock, King of Topaz. And Hymel, The Leaf, Queen of Emerald.”

  “Am I going to have to remember all of those names?” asked Hal. He thought back to the tests Roth used to give him on his understanding of lectures and readings. At the time, they’d frustrated him, but after how things had ended, he almost missed them, at least a little…

  “All you need to remember is that the Temple of the Matron is the authority on gem magic within Krestia’s Cradle,” said Cadrian. “And if you don’t wish to run afoul of them, be very careful what you say about gems, how you say it, and to whom. And keep your own gemstone hidden within your shirt at all times.”

  “You wear yours openly,” said Hal, nodding to the ruby ring on her finger. She had another one he hadn’t noticed before, deep brownish yellow in color.

  “You are not me,” said Cadrian. “Perhaps in time, when you understand more.”

  “And when, exactly, will I begin to understand more?” asked Hal.

  The question showed his impatience, and he regretted it as soon as it had left his mouth. It wasn’t something he felt like he could help, however. The only motivation he had left for anything in life was to go after the dragon and its rider. To kill both of them, and make them suffer.

  Cadrian did not seem offended by his question. She gave him the smallest of smiles and slowly shook her head.

  “I have not decided yet whether to take you as my apprentice,” she said.

  “I’m not asking to be your apprentice!” snapped Hal. “Just tell me how to cast a damn spell!”

  And there I go again. Why am I having so much trouble keeping my emotions in check?

  Cadrian gestured to him, and then to the floor. Hal left his chair and sat down on the mat in the center of her room, which was made of woven strips of thin, pliable wood. He expected Cadrian to give him another demonstration, but instead, she sat down behind him.

  She slid forward until her legs were on either side of Hal, coming in close enough for him to feel her breasts pressing against his back. They felt larger while in contact with him than they looked within her tunic, and Hal’s heart started to beat a little faster.

  As though sensing his thoughts, Cadrian reached her arm around and set her hand directly onto his chest over his heart. She brought her head in close to his ear, her breath tickling his neck for an instant.

  “All gem magic stems from the heart,” she whispered. “From emotion. It’s the source of the essence that fills each gemstone, and that catalyst that triggers every spell and elemental crafting. Feel the beat of your heart, Halrin. Feel your emotions.”

  I feel something right now, but I’m not sure if she’d approve of it.

  Cadrian slid her hand down the front of his shirt. She fished out his gemstone and pulled it loose, letting it dangle openly from its leather cord. The teardrop shaped crimson gem was giving off a slight glow, which surprised Hal. Cadrian rubbed her hand against his heart again, this time underneath his shirt, and breathed on his neck. The glow intensified.

  “To channel the essence inside of the gem, you must visualize your goal and pair it with your will,” she whispered. “That is all.”

  She spoke so softly and slowly that it almost put Hal into a sensual trance. Along with the close contact of her feminine body, Hal felt as though she’d shared something intimate with him, something that he’d remember. As soon as she finished speaking, Cadrian pulled back from him and stood up.

  “I will consider your request of apprenticeship,” she said. “It may be a couple of days before I have an answer for you.”

  Hal bit back his initial frustrated impulse and remained silent. He realized, somewhat surprisingly, that she’d brought him around. He did want to be her apprentice, to learn from her, and eventually be able to do with his ruby what he’d seen her do outside.

  Was it just a means to an end? A way of strengthening himself in pursuit of getting his revenge? Hal wasn’t so sure anymore. Cadrian opened the door to her home and gestured to him, and he realized it was as close to a goodbye as he was going to get. She was dismissing him as a master dismissed a new pupil, with no need for explanation or parting words.

  CHAPTER 15

  It was dark outside in the streets of Lorne, but not as dark as Hal had been expecting. The sky was clear, and the stars were dazzling in their brightness. He found his way back to the inn easily enough, the sound of laughter and hearty conversation confirming the building for him as he drew close.

  The Merry Lorne Inn was nearly at full capacity, with an entire seventeen people sitting at the bar or at tables. Hal spotted Laurel standing next a man over by the side of the room, chatting and drinking ale. He hesitated, unsure of what the right move for him was, as an outsider with no status and no money.

  Laurel spotted him as he started toward the bar and immediately excused herself from the conversation she was engaged in. Her cheeks were flushed as she fell in beside him, and Hal remembered what Meridon had said earlier about her being a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

  “Halrin!” she said, a little louder than necessary. “How did it go? You were gone for a while, so that’s a good sign, isn’t it? Did Cadrian decide to take you on as an apprentice? Tell me everything! Here, let’s sit down at my table!”

  Hal smiled as she took him by the arm and pulled him across the room. Two plates of food were already sitting on the table, along with a large pitcher of an amber colored ale.

  “I’ll order us more ale after if we need it,” she said. “And the food is for you. I figured you’d be coming back. And if you didn’t, I figured someone else would probably be hungry!”

  She let out a loud laugh. Hal smiled and wondered how many mugs of ale she’d had already.

  “I think that should be plenty for the two of us,” he said, nodding to the pitcher.

  “Don’t speak so soon!” said Laurel. “The night has only just begun!”

  Hal chuckled. He wasn’t sure how much of her enthusiasm he shared, especially as he looked down at the plate in front of him. The innkeeper had served them cactus paste on thin circles of bread, along with small bowls of soup with unidentifiable chunks of meat in it. He nibbled, more than ate.

  “Meridon’s food takes some getting used to,” said Laurel, in a mock whisper that failed at being quiet. “But don’t tell him I said that!”

  “Just how many cups of ale have you already had?” he asked.

  Laurel shrugged, her dimples showing as she grinned at him.

  “You tell me what happened with Cadrian, and I’ll…” She took another sip of ale in midsentence. “Tell you… whatever it was you just asked.”

  Hal reached across the table and pulled the ale pitc
her out of her reach.

  “Things went... well enough,” he said. “She is definitely a little out there. But I think she’ll teach me.”

  She has to. I need to find a way to use the gem. Whatever it takes.

  “Good!” said Laurel. “That’s good…”

  She gave him a curious look. Hal could guess what else she wanted to know.

  “If you still need help with your repairs, back at the homestead, I’d be willing to lend a hand,” he said.

  Laurel’s kept her expression remarkably neutral, for how tipsy she was. She gave a small shrug.

  “I suppose,” she said. “As loooong as you’re willing to pull your weight! No slacking off, Hal.”

  “Right,” he said, smiling. “No slacking off.”

  Two more people entered the inn. The first was an older man, clearly blind from the scarf he wore across his eyes. He carried a fiddle case under one arm and a cane in the other. The second was a young ogre dressed in a plain brown tunic and trousers, with short black hair done up in a top knot.

  Hal felt a little sentimental as he looked the two of them. Memories of Roth spilled over the mental dam he’d constructed to keep his grief at bay. Roth had taught him so much, always having words of wisdom and advice whenever Hal needed it. He’d had a humble air about him, as though he was playing a small part in a much greater ensemble, but cared deeply about making sure the play went off without a hitch.

  This ogre, on the other hand, had a cocky smile on his face and boisterous body language. He led his blind partner with one hand, while another gestured to the crowd. A third hand went to his lips as soon as the two were up on the stage, and he whistled the crowd into silence.

  “Oh!” whispered Laurel. “I’ve seen these two before! They’re really good!”

  Hal was about to ask what their performance involved, but the two men had already jumped into it before he could. The blind man stood on the edge of the stage, playing the fiddle and stomping his foot in a rhythm. The ogre began to move through the intricate flows of the Kye Lornis.

  It was almost too much for Hal. He’d loved that dance, loved it with the kind of passion that a man only finds for something once or twice in his entire life. It had been a form of emotional release for him, almost like meditation.

  It had been something that he, Mauve, and Roth had all shared. The fluid movements and challenging acrobatics had pushed Hal to train himself physically. He’d competed against Mauve to learn some of the harder steps first, and the rivalry had brought them closer together as friends. Mauve had been more than a friend. He’d been Hal’s brother in all but name.

  “Hal?” Laurel looked over at him, frowning. It took him a second to realize that he’d stood up in the middle of the performance.

  “Uh…” Hal rubbed his chin. “I’ll be right back.”

  He took a step toward the stage. Laurel reached out and grabbed his arm.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “The bar is that way, and we don’t need more ale yet!”

  “It’s okay,” said Hal. “You’ll see.”

  He slipped his hand out of her grip and hurried toward the stage, approaching from the side opposite where the fiddler was playing. The ogre onstage was, at first, too caught up in his own movements to notice.

  Hal waited, tapping his foot to the music, bouncing slightly to the beat in the neutral stance that the ogres used to communicate that they wished to enter a Kye Lornis circle. The ogre’s eyes swept by him as he rolled and spun, and then pulled back, doing a double take.

  The crowd was clapping along with the fiddler’s rhythm. People were cheering and laughing, enjoying the performance as much as Hal had seen a barroom enjoy anything. And the ogre’s eyes were now aware of him, aware of the challenger at the gates.

  For a split second, Hal thought he was going to be ignored. Then, the ogre danced over to the edge of the stage, looming over him as he stood on the edge, and gave a small nod. Hal saw the gleam in his eyes, and couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he pulled himself up onto the stage.

  The ogre stepped back, giving him room as he gestured for Hal to move into the center. Hal could tell that he still didn’t realize yet what was in store. He began to move, going slowly at first with the fluid, standing motions of the ogre martial dance. He caught a glimpse of the ogre’s face and saw the surprise he’d been expecting.

  Hal lost himself in the flows after only a couple of seconds. This was as close to home as he would ever feel in this strange land. It was uplifting, but also mournful, like finding a gift given by someone long since passed on.

  He dropped down into the ground flows, kicking his legs up as he leapt into a handstand. Mauve had always loved those kinds of movements. Hal held it for a moment before popping back to his feet and then rolling backward onto his shoulders, kicking as he did for a quick, flashy backspin.

  He popped up afterward, falling back and letting the ogre move to replace him in the empty space. If the ogre had been surprised before, now he seemed determined to prove to the audience that he was there in the inn for a reason.

  He whirled his four arms in complicated patterns, spinning and dropping down to the ground at times. The extra arms allowed him to move across the ground in handstands and lifts of a style that Hal and Mauve had never had a chance at mastering. The ogre was good, but there was something off about his style. It took Hal a few seconds of observation to realize what it was.

  He’s missing one of his hands…

  The ogre’s bottom left arm ended in a stub. The ogre had capped it off with a glove to make the deformity slightly less visible, but it still affected him when it came to performing the Kye Lornis’ complicated flows. Still, he had a masterful command of the dance and soon finished his round with a flourish, gesturing for Hal to take a turn.

  The two danced across from one another, their movements simulating a mock battle in the style of the ancient martial dance. Hal was grinning like a fool, and feeling a mix of heady excitement and bitter nostalgia.

  The crowd was going wild for it, with Laurel leading the charge. People were slamming empty mugs down on tables to the fiddler’s rhythm. Laurel was shouting his name. Hal let himself enjoy it, and wondered if that was alright.

  CHAPTER 16

  It went on for a few minutes before coming to an explosive end. Hal ended with his backflip, which he landed with a flourish and a cocky grin. The ogre launched into a complicated series of hand balances and twists, outshining Hal, but not by all that much.

  When they’d finished the crowd surged forward. Everyone seemed intent on shaking Hal’s hand, slapping him on the back, or buying him a drink. He accepted the praise with smiles and humility, and eventually made his way back around to where the fiddler and the ogre were sitting by the stage.

  “Thanks,” said Hal, extending his hand to shake the ogre’s. “I’m Halrin.”

  The ogre nodded to him.

  “Vrodas,” he said. “And this is Theron.” He gestured to the fiddler.

  The old fiddler already had a pipe out, and exhaled a small clot of smoke as he nodded in greeting.

  “Are there many ogres in the area?” asked Hal. “I’m not from around here, and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”

  Vrodas furrowed his brow, giving him a strange look.

  “Maug,” he said. “We call ourselves maug. Ogre is a much less flattering bit of vernacular that chafes many of my breed.”

  “Oh,” said Hal. “Sorry.”

  He’d heard Roth use the traditional name for the ogre people a few times before, but it had never made much of a difference back in the Collected Provinces. Or had it? How much attention had he been paying to the maug culture outside of what was filtered through to him from his mentor?

  “Halrin,” said Vrodas. “I would be very eager to hear how you came to know the Kye Lornis. It’s fascinating to me. I’ve never seen… never even suspected, that a human with two arms could make such a spirited attempt at the dance of my peopl
e.”

  “It’s a long story,” said Hal.

  “Best told over a mug of ale, then,” said Vrodas.

  The two of them sat at the bar, and Hal gave him an abridged account of his tutelage under Roth. He left out the specifics, not mentioning that he was from the Collected Provinces or how he’d come to Krestia’s Cradle. Perhaps it was those omissions that led to Vrodas looking deeply skeptical at the end.

  “You expect me to believe, first, that you harbored a maug as a tutor in your household?” asked Vrodas.

  Hal shrugged.

  “Sure,” he said. “Why is that hard to believe?”

  A thin-lipped smile spread across the maug’s face. His features were youthful and handsome, and his expression was somewhat cynical. He had a strong jaw and none of the wrinkles that Roth had had, along with the slanted eye ridges that protruded slightly in place of eyebrows for their kind.

  “Maug are warriors,” said Vrodas. “And, at least here in the cesspool that is Krestia’s Cradle. We do not live amongst human society… usually.”

  “But isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” asked Hal.

  Vrodas shook his head.

  “Theron and I are vagabonds,” he said. “We’ll stay here in Lorne for a week, two at most, and then move on. Old blind men and maimed maug tend to wear out their welcomes faster than you might imagine.”

  Vrodas laughed and took a deep swig. Hal was about to ask him where he would head next when the maug held up a finger, silencing him.

  “And secondly…” He leaned in a little closer. “This is something you should take heed of, young Halrin. Under the current leadership of my tribe… you would be put to death for knowing what you know, and dancing how you dance. The Kye Lornis is a maug dance, not for humans to make mock of.”

  Hal felt the tension in Vrodas’s words. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Is that what you thought I was doing?” he asked. “Mocking the flows?”