Heartgem Homestead

by Edmund Hughes

  The massive bonfire was just being lit when Hal, Vrodas, and Theron returned to the center of town. Tables had been set up on one side of it, and Meridon had even brought the stage outside, saving Hal and Vrodas from having to perform on the sand.

  Laurel and Zoria were helping set out the food on the long serving table. Hal fell into step with them as they headed back toward the kitchen.

  “So?” he said. “How did things go?”

  “As well as they could have,” said Laurel, with a smile. “I think this is the best Zoria and I have ever gotten along.”

  Hal furrowed his brow.

  “What did the two of you talk about?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” Laurel grinned. “She never said a word. And honestly, she’s quite pleasant when she keeps her mouth shut.”

  “Wretched surface cow,” muttered Zoria. “Quit smiling!”

  Hal chuckled, but found that he was a little worried about how the elf girl was fairing in the new environment. He led Zoria a short distance away and spoke to her in a quiet voice.

  “Honestly, though,” he said. “Are you managing okay?”

  Zoria’s scowled at him, and the expression looked so exaggerated on her girlish face that Hal had to breathe carefully to keep from bursting out laughing.

  “I do not cook,” said Zoria. “I am a valkyrie, not a servant! And to cook this… basic food, for these… peasants celebrating nothing! Celebrating the changing of seasons? Why not just bow down to the sun, or worship gods of thunder and rain?”

  “You’re missing the point,” said Hal. “It’s just an excuse for people to get together and spend time with each other.”

  “I have no wish to spend time with any of these pathetic surfacers,” said Zoria.

  “Not even me?”

  “Especially not you.”

  Zoria scowled at him again, and Hal couldn’t hold back. He started laughing, keeping one hand over his mouth as though he could force the chuckles down his throat. Zoria kept scowling, but her cheeks began to redden with embarrassment.

  “Stop that!” she hissed. “You… you can’t laugh at me!”

  “If you could only see yourself right now,” said Hal. He reached a finger out and poked her in the cheek.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” said Zoria.

  “Will you at least try to have fun?” asked Hal. “We’ll be spending the night here in town, regardless, so I don’t see why you can’t play along.”

  Zoria rolled her eyes.

  “Are you ordering me to enjoy myself, master?” she said, sarcastically.

  “Yes,” said Hal. “Now come on. Let’s get some wine.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Hal sat down at a table with Laurel and Zoria and dug into a plate piled high with roasted pork, fresh bread, applesauce, cactus salad, and spiced beans. To go with it, he had a full goblet of a rich, dark wine that Meridon had been saving for the occasion.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like this before,” said Laurel. She winked at him, and Hal felt his smile broaden even further.

  “Good food, good weather, good company…” Hal shrugged. “What else could I ask for?”

  That’s not a question I want to linger on for too long.

  He took a deep sip of his wine, intent on staving off any dark moods that might try to prey on his emotions. Even Zoria seemed to be, at the very least, content. She took small, dainty sips from her wine, and Hal couldn’t help but wonder if elves got intoxicated in the same way humans did.

  “No, no, no,” bellowed Meridon. “I’ve seen the true jester of the Summer Equinox before, and it was Rolf!”

  He pointed to a man sitting at another table and launched into an animated story about Rolf getting sloppy drunk at one of the previous festivals. At least half of the attendees seemed to know the story, and chimed in to offer specific details at various points.

  The food was delicious. That wasn’t to say that Hal hadn’t enjoyed the vegetable soup, tack bread, and occasional bit of salted meat that Laurel served up, but the festival fare was different. It was full of flavor, and brought Hal back to another life in a different way than other memory triggers might have.

  Good food made Hal think of good times, of celebrations, of being amongst family and friends. There was still a painful edge to that reminiscence that he had to be careful to keep from cutting himself on, but it was a balance he found easier to maintain as time went on.

  And where was he, if not among friends? That’s what Vrodas was. Surely, that was what Laurel was. And even Zoria, in her own disdainful, condescending way. He had friends again. He had a life again.

  Hal had to be careful not to drink too much wine, knowing that he and Vrodas would be performing their Kye Lornis showcase shortly after the meal was finished. He glanced over at Vrodas and Theron’s table and noticed that the ogre was taking less caution in the matter than he was, which made him smile.

  Each table took a turn telling a story. Hal listened, and felt like he was learning about Lorne in a way that normal questions and descriptions would have never captured.

  He heard a story about two eager lovers who’d accidentally fallen into the well after kissing while sitting on the stone lip, and the lengths they’d gone to stay warm in the water while waiting for rescue. The owner of the general store, Koda, told a story about the time she’d accidentally mixed up her herbs and given a man a sexual potency enhancer instead of a sleeping aid. The man’s wife had walked through her errands the next morning in an overwide stance, with a smile and noticeable flush to her face.

  Eventually, it was their table’s turn. Inspired mostly by wine, Hal moved to stand and share one of his favorite stories of him and Mauve getting into trouble back in the Collected Provinces, shooting their pistols and scaring a herd of cows. Laurel shot him a look and rose before he could leave his seat all the way. It was probably for the best, as he stopped to consider what the crowd’s skeptical reaction might have been.

  Laurel told a story of her and her brother Willum getting lost in a sandstorm and fearing for their lives, only to discover at the end that they were but a short distance from town, hidden in the wake of a small dune. Hal laughed and applauded along with the rest of the audience, but his mind wandered from the tale.

  Am I leaving my old life behind? Would anyone have even believed me, if I’d tried to share from my experiences in a country that’s practically a world away?

  He was still mulling it over as the feast drew to a close. Vrodas and Theron waved to him, and Hal hurried to join them up on stage, turning his thoughts to dancing instead of sulking.

  Vrodas told a story before they began, accompanied by Theron playing soft, ambient music to emphasize certain parts. The story was of two warriors, Brogden and Chip, who sought an ancient sword of immense magical power. Upon finally discovering the weapon, the two men turned against each other. Vrodas explained that the routine they were about to perform was a reenactment of that battle, told through the flows of Kye Lornis.

  Theron’s music began at a slow, even pace. The fiddler stomped his foot to the rhythm on the edge of the wooden stage. Hal and Vrodis began to move, facing the crowd for the first few flows.

  They’d gone over the routine at least a dozen times earlier in the afternoon, but Hal still found that he had trouble remembering it. Even so, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, the sensation of having the small crowd’s attention on him combining with the rush of movement, and the excitement of the music.

  Vrodas spun away from one of their heavily practiced, mock attacks. He spun into a twisting roll, coming up onto all three of his hands and holding himself aloft for a moment. The crowd cheered, and then oohed as Hal raised the wooden stick that passed for the ancient sword over his head and made to attack him again.

  For the next section, they both fought over the sword, gripping it and trying to pull it from each other’s hands. Vrodas leaned to the side, and Hal launched across the stage into a flip. He rushed back
at Vrodas, jumping over a sword sweep and countering with an exaggerated roundhouse kick that passed overhead.

  They fell into sync again with each other, and then slowly split apart as the music intensified, and each took a short solo. The crowd clapped to Theron’s rhythm. Vrodas finished his solo and then Hal took center stage.

  He danced with energy that he’d forgotten he had. It was like it had been back with Mauve during his father’s fanciful parties, the two young men turning the Kye Lornis into an avenue for competition. Hal flowed and flipped, keeping his momentum as he transitioned down across his shoulders and back onto his hands. The crowd loved every second of it, and so did he.

  When Hal and Vrodas finally brought the performance to a close, both of them dying on the ancient sword after inflicting mortal wounds upon each other, the crowd erupted with vicious applause and high-pitched whistles. Hal grinned as he made his way back to his table, shaking hands and getting slaps on the back as he went.

  Laurel was smiling and staring at him, but Zoria’s reaction was even more animated. She looked stunned, as though a long-kept secret had been revealed to her, and it had changed the way she saw him.

  “You are not a warrior,” said Zoria. “But you… the way you dance.” She shook her head. “It explains why your movements were so hard to read.”

  Hal chuckled.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. “I was never allowed dueling training back in my homeland. This was as close as I could ever get.”

  “It was wonderful, Hal,” said Laurel. “Teach me! As soon as we get back the homestead. I want to learn at least the basics.”

  She laughed, well on her way to being drunk, and hooked her arm through his.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

  CHAPTER 39

  The festival was still far from over. Meridon and the man Rolf, who he’d told a story about during the feast, gathered everyone over to a pit that had been dug not far from the well. Water had been dumped into it, creating a mess of murky mud. A long, knotted rope was stretched across the pit, reaching at least ten feet beyond in either direction.

  “Rolf and I will pick teams!” shouted Meridon. “Anyone who lets go forfeits their drinks for the rest of the night!”

  The game was simple enough. Hal ended up on Rolf’s team, along with Zoria and several others, while Meridon, Laurel, and the other half of the townspeople clung to the rope on the other side. The goal was to pull the opposing team into the mud.

  “Come on!” said Hal. Zoria held the rope in front of him and was making only a halfhearted attempt at playing along. “Give it a real pull! That’s an order from your master!”

  Zoria looked over her shoulder at him, but instead of a scowl, she had a wicked smile on her face.

  “Like this, master?” She leaned herself back against him, intentionally pushing her butt into his crotch. Hal cleared his throat and glanced around nervously. To all eyes outside of his own and Laurel’s, Zoria appeared to be an innocent young girl. Luckily, the crowd’s attention was on the game, rather than the individual participants.

  “More like this.” Hal took hold of her hands and forced them into a tighter grip on the rope. Zoria took advantage of the opportunity, grinding her butt even more seductively against his pants.

  And then, Rolf went into the pit. Everybody else let go the second they saw their side’s leader tumbling into the mud. Rolf swore at them with some of the wildest insults Hal had ever heard, but the threat of cutting anyone off from the wine had apparently only been in jest.

  Almost immediately, Meridon was arranging them into another party game, this time one that Hal was familiar with, if only in passing.

  “Kiss the maiden!” shouted Meridon. Soon, most of the men in the crowd changing “Kiss the maiden” over and over again, while most of the women rolled their eyes and shook their head.

  “Oh, I knew they’d do it again this year,” muttered Laurel. “Well, I suppose I’d better get ready.”

  “How do you know they’re going to pick you to be the…” Hal trailed off as the crowd’s chant shifted to “Laurel! Laurel! Laurel!”

  “Fine,” she said, with what was obviously feigned annoyance. “I’ll be the maiden.”

  Meridon brought her to stand across the way and tied a blindfold over her eyes. She looked the part, with her blonde hair loose across her shoulders, and her lips turned up into an embarrassed, dimpled smile.

  The game entailed each male participant being blindfolded and, after a generous amount of being spun around in a circle by the crowd, given a chance to make a dizzying march across fifty feet of sand to steal a kiss from the maiden, Laurel. Hal felt an odd, unwanted sense of jealousy as he watched the first man make a decent attempt at it, coming within a few feet of her before bumping into the stage and pulling off his blindfold.

  He considered the story Laurel had told him before about her brother stepping in to save her from a kiss. Who would step in for her this time, if one of the men came close? Would he?

  No. It would only create rumors about us. Better to let the game play out as intended.

  In the end, none of the men came all that close. One of them ended up forgoing the search for Laurel in favor of tracking down his wife, who he gave a bawdy kiss to the applause of the crowd. Laurel headed over to Hal afterward, blushing at the attention some of the men continued to give her on the way.

  “So?” she said. “How close did you get?”

  “I… didn’t play,” said Hal. “I mean, I wasn’t really interested.”

  The spark went out of Laurel’s expression, and her smile faded. Hal frowned, unsure of what he’d said to kill her mood.

  “I’m going to get some wine,” she said.

  “Laurel, hold on.” He reached out for her, but the crowd had shifted, blocking off his path. Theron was playing his fiddle again, and everyone was dancing. Zoria found her way over to Hal and took one of his hands, smiling mischievously as she began to move.

  “We have our own dances in the Upper Realm,” she said. “Do you think you can keep up with me, surfacer?”

  Hal smirked at her.

  “Yeah, I do,” he said.

  ***

  It wasn’t until Theron’s music had trailed off and the dancing had abated that Hal noticed Laurel’s absence from the crowd. He walked a circle around the bonfire in search of her, spotting her sitting on one of the dunes around the town’s perimeter, illuminated by starlight.

  “Hey,” he said, as he climbed up to join her. “You left.”

  Laurel seemed caught by surprise. She ran a hand across her face and cleared her throat.

  “Too much wine,” she said. “I just needed some air.”

  Hal sat down next to her. She didn’t look at him, but he studied the profile of her face. A gentle breeze blew across the desert, scattering strands of hair across her eyes and cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” asked Hal.

  Did I do something wrong? Was it what I said to her before?

  “I’m fine,” said Laurel. “Sorry. I don’t mean to make you worry. I’m just… thinking.”

  Hal put a hand on her shoulder.

  “If you want to think out loud, I’m a really good listener.” He smiled at her, and Laurel finally met his gaze. She smiled back at him, but the expression seemed forced, lacking its usual vitality.

  “So much has changed for me over these past few days,” she said. “Halrin… You came into my life so suddenly. I mean, not in a weird way! Just that… you sort of showed up out of nowhere.”

  Hal sighed.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “And I feel the same way.”

  “You do?” Laurel let her gaze linger on his. Hal nodded, though suddenly wasn’t sure whether they were talking about the same thing.

  “I was so alone before, Hal,” she whispered. “With my brother gone, and it just being me in the homestead… It was like you fell from the sky to be the solution. To keep me company.�
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  “Hey,” said Hal, in a teasing voice. “I’m a person too, you know.”

  “I know,” whispered Laurel. “You’re a man, and a friend… and maybe...”

  He still had his hand on her shoulder, and he felt her tremble slightly under his touch. She slid closer to him on the sand, turning her upper body to face him fully. She bit her bottom slip slightly and stared at him.

  “Halrin,” she whispered.

  Hal felt such a confusing mixture of emotions that for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. And before he had time for a reaction to shake itself out, a terrifying roar came from high above them. He quickly stood to his feet, his eyes searching the sky, ears honing in on the beating of wings, and his heart pounding a frantic beat.

  CHAPTER 40

  The dragon was upon them in an instant, landing near enough to almost shake Hal and Laurel off their feet with the force of the impact. Its scarlet eyes stood out against the night, and small puffs of flame escaped its mouth with each breath, as though it could barely contain its urge to incinerate.

  It was larger than Hal remembered, a hulking mass of razor claws, inky scales, and sickled teeth. It was a creature of death and of evil, and it was good at what it did. It was there to do it all over again.

  Hal felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared up at it, the pain of familiar injuries blossoming to life in his memory. The dragon’s claw, squeezing his chest, cutting through skin and threatening to break bones. It squeezed the breath out of him, then and now.

  “No…” he muttered.

  Not like this. Not here…

  He’d spent so much time thinking about this moment, about facing off against the monster that killed his family. In none of his imaginings had it ever been like this. Laurel was shaking with fear, holding tightly to his shoulder. A few hundred feet beyond them, a town full of innocent, mostly intoxicated people waited, completely undefended.

  It was all happening again. Had he really learned so little from that first tragedy? Or was time destined to loop in such patterns, taking the path of least resistance along events that echoed into the past and future?