Heartgem Homestead

by Edmund Hughes

  Hal also saw several black dots soaring through the air. He thought they were birds at first, until one of them circled and began rising toward them. They were other dragons, near as common in the Upper Realm as horse and carriage were back home. Hal was still imagining what it would be like to live in such a place as the new dragon drew closer and closer still.

  Aangavar let out a tremendous shout, speaking words in a language Hal had never learned from Roth. The other dragon shouted back, and then returned to whatever it had been doing. Aangavar continued over the Upper Realm, passing beyond it, and then began descending steadily.

  They dropped lower than the floating island. Hal was at a loss to make out exactly where it had been by looking at it from underneath, the magical clouds swirling and giving off light in such a manner as to hide it from surface observation. He had so many questions, and suddenly felt so small against the majesty of the world as his horizons expanded.

  Aangavar was falling faster. Hal clung a little more tightly to the dragon’s neck. He watched in stunned disbelief as the creature pulled its wings in, like a hawk in the middle of diving at prey. Except there was nothing underneath them but open ocean, which would be hard as rock if they struck down on it from their height.

  Of course. The dragon doesn’t have the energy to shake me off, so instead it will sacrifice itself to kill me.

  An idea came to him, and he started putting it into action before the terror could stop him. Hal pulled the heartgem free from his shirt and willed it back into its sapphire form. It was easier to do this time, now that he knew how to focus its energy.

  The wind was blowing hard enough to make his shirt flutter up against his neck and face. Hal pushed it down and stared at the water, concentrating on what he needed it to do. It would have been easier if he’d only needed to account for himself, but he couldn’t risk pushing off Aangavar and leaving himself exposed in the air, an easy target for the dragon’s claws and teeth.

  Hal channeled the emotions of the sapphire, sorrow and despair, using the essence within the gem to pull water from the ocean up into a massive plume, several hundred feet high. It felt cold against his skin, and he knew he’d expounded all the sapphire essence inside of it to pull off his ungainly spell.

  As he and the dragon pulled even with the water plume, Hal let the water fall nearly even with their pace of descent. He took a deep breath as the two of them fell into it, striking the water at a relatively mild pace, given the small difference of speed between it and them.

  The sensation was bizarre and confusing, as though Hal had fallen into a giant, clear glass of water. They were still falling, but the water slowed their descent. It was warm against his skin, and created a forced silence different from the sound of the rushing wind. The dragon thrashed as it realized what Hal was doing, knocking him loose. Within the water plume, however, it couldn’t control its movements well enough to retaliate properly.

  He let the water plume disintegrate as he sank into to the ocean, only then realizing that he’d traded one dire situation for another. He would still die, just over a longer period of time.

  Or would he? The dragon was flapping its wings and swimming through the ocean, away from him. Hal wiped stinging saltwater from his eyes and focused in the direction it was going. A small island, barely larger than a sandbar, poked out from the endless blue. It was within swimming distance, and Hal started off toward it.

  The dragon reached the shore before Hal did, but it no longer looked as though it posed a threat. Hal walked out of the shallows with heavy, soaked clothing as he stared at the defeated, waterlogged creature. He kept a hand on the hilt of his sword, debating what to do next. The dragon swiveled its head to face him, but there was no fight left in its eyes.

  “If my life is the price I must pay to end this foolish feud, so be it,” said Aangavar. “I will die from my injuries and you will perish from exposure atop my corpse.”

  Hal glared back at the monster. It was true, and in his heart, he knew it. He didn’t stand a chance of making it back to the coast, even if he used what little essence remained in his heartgem. But it wasn’t that part of what the dragon had said that sparked his anger.

  “Foolish feud?” he said, bitterly. “Do you remember who I am? Or what you’ve done to me?”

  “Heart Holder, I know exactly who you are,” said Aangavar. “And perhaps I misspoke. Your expression and stance tells all. Our feud is one of blood, not fools.”

  Hal gritted his teeth. He slowly drew his sword, knowing that if he wanted to, he could behead the dragon, there and then. He could probably torture it, draw out its death, if he wanted to. But did he want to?

  This is so empty. Nothing will bring Lilith back, or heal Laurel’s scars. Why did I think that this would change anything?

  “You could kill me now,” said Aangavar. “It would bring an end to the feud, though a tragic one. My death would lead to yours, were it to happen here. And my egg spawn would die, left unprotected in an empty nest.”

  “Why should I care about what happens to your egg?” asked Hal.

  “Because there is another path,” said Aangavar. “Another way forward. I have been isolated too long. I wronged you and yours out of fear for my offspring, fear of the Upper Realm and the Elven Empire. For that, I am truly sorry.”

  “Do you think apologizing will fix what you did?” shouted Hal. “Do you think it will bring the people I love back to life?”

  Aangavar said nothing, letting the silence hang on the air and shame them both. Finally, he spoke again.

  “Heart Holder, I cannot bring the dead back,” said Aangavar. “But I can bring you back. And my egg spawn back, from the death he’ll be delivered to if left to fend on his own.”

  Hal was already shaking his head.

  “No,” he said. “No. It’s not fair! You have to die. For what you did, you deserve no less.”

  “I am dying, you petulant savage,” said Aangavar. “That is already a foregone conclusion. What I am asking is if you will choose to live. I would give you a chance to settle this feud through forgiveness, and ask that you not pass my sins down to the next in my line. I will bring you back, Heart Holder, and all I ask in return is for you to watch my egg spawn until it can fly by its own wings.”

  Hal took a step back. He was still shaking his head, but the dragon’s words and logic were impossible for him to dismiss. What choice did he have but to finish killing it? Wasn’t that what mattered most to him? The only thing that mattered, with Lilith, Mauve, and his father dead and unavenged?

  I could choose to live. To help Laurel recover, and settle in Fool’s Valley.

  He pictured Lilith’s face in his mind, and wondered what she’d want for him. It wasn’t a question that needed more than a split second of thought for him to reach an answer. She wouldn’t want to see him die because of his anger, all in the name of revenge.

  “I need your answer, Heart Holder,” said Aangavar. “My wounds are grievous. I shan’t have the strength to fly for much longer. What say you? How deep does this blood feud run?”

  “Who was the rider on your back on the night you attacked my family’s estate?” asked Hal. “The man in the golden helm. Where can I find him?”

  “I would no more betray my friends than you would yours,” said Aangavar. “Do not besmirch my honor by forcing this point.”

  Hal ran a hand through his hair, feeling more frustrated than he ever had in his life. He met the dragon’s eyes, which seemed old and tired now, rather than windows into an evil soul, as they once had been. He gave a slow nod, and then climbed onto the dragon’s back.

  CHAPTER 47

  Aangavar flew underneath the clouds, taking a lower route this time, rather than soaring back up over the Upper Realm. Even though Hal still felt anger toward the dragon, he was curious about what he’d seen. How were dragons so common to the Upper Realm? And why was it so isolated? Were its denizens limited to elves and dragons, or did humans and ogres live there, too?
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  The dragon flew faster than it had before, and Hal was surprised to discover that it responded to his movements against his neck. He’d leaned to the side as they’d passed through a thick flock of birds, and the dragon had followed his lead, flying to avoid them. Hal had felt like a boy atop his first steed, and had a thrilling time steering from side to side until he noticed the toll it was taking on the dying creature.

  Aangavar barely made it the last stretch back to its mountain roost, its wings losing what was left of their strength. The landing was more of an impact, and Hal fell from his perch onto the hard rock surface of the mountain in a painful heap.

  He stood up slowly, unsure of what he was supposed to say or do now that the dragon had fulfilled its end of their bargain. Looking at Aangavar, he realized that there was no need for him to say anything. The dragon had already breathed its last breath, and its eyes were glassy and empty of soul.

  Hal found the egg in the same place he’d seen it before. It was about the size of a large watermelon, with a smooth, but slightly translucent protective shell. He could see the silhouette of a tiny, mostly formed dragon within it.

  Did I really promise to protect this thing until it reaches maturity?

  The thought made Hal feel both excited and uneasy. It was like one of the ancient stories he’d read back in Roth’s library, though whether its ending would mark it as a cautionary or uplifting tale remained to be seen.

  He lifted the egg as carefully as he could. It was warm to the touch, and felt remarkably fragile in his arms. He walked back down the slope cautiously, and made a torch before starting the long trek back through the cave.

  The first thing he saw when he exited back out into Fool’s Valley was that the wildfires had burned out, luckily without doing too much damage to the lower forest or drawing near to the homestead. Hal still had to be careful walking through ash and embers on the slope, but it was an easier trip down than it had been up.

  A wave of relief hit him as he approached the door of Laurel’s home. He felt tired enough to sleep for days and strangely deflated. The dragon was dead, and though he hadn’t killed it himself, his goal had still been accomplished.

  Vrodas was inside, resting in Hal’s bed. Hal gently roused him, curious about what had happened in the time since the party had split up to stop himself.

  “The elf girl left,” said Vrodas. “Told me to tell you that she’d see you again, and that you weren’t such a bad master.”

  Hal smiled.

  “Yeah, that sounds like her,” he said.

  He only felt a little guilty about sleeping in Laurel’s bed, knowing that she’d probably have offered it to him, herself, had she been there. Hal set the dragon egg in a small nest made from an extra blanket next to the hearth. The baby dragon inside of it had shifted positions, and it looked almost like a tiny, winged human in the womb.

  Hal and Vrodas set out the next morning for Lorne. The ogre was still injured, but kept up with Hal easily enough. Even after seeing the dragon egg, Vrodas was skeptical of most of Hal’s story, but it made no difference to him.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” said Hal. “This is just the beginning. Fool’s Valley might end up needing a name change in the near future.”

  Vrodas shrugged.

  “I think it’s fitting,” said Vrodas. “The story of you confronting the monster will spread far and wide, especially the way I’ll be telling it. And surely it is a fool’s endeavor for a single warrior to take on a dragon.”

  A warrior? Is that what I am now?

  Vrodas winked at him. Hal scowled.

  “I hope you aren’t planning on exaggerating the details,” said Hal. “And though it makes sense to leave Zoria out of the tale, for her sake, I expect you to at least include yourself.”

  “Do you, now?” The ogre slowly shook his head. “I’m ashamed, you know. I was meant to take my own share of the vengeance… and instead, I took only my share of injuries.”

  Hal understood exactly what he meant.

  “You cared deeply for Theron, didn’t you?”

  Vrodas smiled. “I did,” he said. “Truly, I did.”

  It was midmorning when they arrived in Lorne, and the town was still in the midst of cleaning up after the carnage from Aangavar’s attack. Hal and Vrodas both headed straight for the inn, Vrodas to return his sword, and Hal to see Laurel.

  She was sleeping in one of the upstairs rooms. He entered quietly, not wanting to wake her if he could help it. The wound running across her cheek had been cleaned, and though the stitches and swelling made it look worse than it really was, Hal knew that it would leave a lifelong scar.

  He sighed and pulled a chair over to her bedside, finding one of her hands and holding it in his own. Laurel stirred slightly after a couple of seconds, a small groan escaping her lips. Her blonde hair was messy and bed tangled, but her blue eyes were radiant in the gentle light of the morning sun.

  “Hal…” she whispered. “I was so worried.”

  She blinked a few times, and a stray tear began to roll down her cheek. Hal reached out a finger and wiped it away before it could drip into her wound.

  “Worried?” He grinned at her. “You must not think too highly of me to fear that I’d die fighting against a tired, old dragon.”

  “What I think…” said Laurel, in a sleepy voice, “is that you take stupid risks, and never listen to me, and think that you’re invincible, or something, and, and…”

  Hal brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. Laurel’s face reddened, and he smiled and squeezed her hand.

  “Speaking of stupid risks,” he said. “I think we might have to expand the stables once we’re both back at the homestead.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Cadrian found nothing in the dead man’s supplies that she didn’t already have herself. Food, several filled waterskins, a simple leather pop tent for riding out storms, and a supply of focus crystals for communicating with the capital.

  She was disappointed, though not surprised, that one of the opposing factions had attempted to kill her. The surprising part was that they’d sent a human to do it, rather than an eklid, given that House Ardstone was the principal human faction in the Upper Realm.

  She took her time setting up her relay, setting out the circle of light and sound crystals slowly, each connected by a special glitterdust chain. The man had known to find her in Lorne, which meant that he’d been privy to the Empress’s orders.

  Cadrian set the signal crystal onto its poll, connecting it to the stray line of glitterdust chain and making sure it was angled toward the east. There were few clouds in the sky to mar the relay, which she hoped would save her time.

  She pulled her imaging crystal out of her pocket, concentrating on her contact as she held it tight within her palm. A few minutes went by, and then the light and sound crystals flashed as they produced an image of the head of her older sister, Marnella.

  “Elyse,” said Marnella. “How expected. The rest of the Empress’s council and I got word of one of the surface dragon’s making a close pass overhead yesterday. Some of the dragoneers were spreading rumors that it was Aangavar.”

  Cadrian kept the tip of the imaging crystal angled toward her face as she shrugged. There was no doubt in her mind that the event somehow involved Halrin. She’d seen Aangavar’s attack on Lorne from afar a few days earlier, and known how events would play out from there. And if she hadn’t been so busy leading her assassin off the trail of the heartgem, perhaps the damage could have been mitigated. Or perhaps not.

  “I know nothing about that,” said Cadrian.

  “Of course you don’t,” said Marnella. “Aangavar is still deeply respected amongst the younger dragons, though he’s become volatile and reclusive in his old age. Not unlike you, sister.”

  “29 is such an old age?” Cadrian smiled. “You haven’t changed, have you?”

  Marnella’s empty stare made Cadrian miss their childhood, when their lives were simple and intrigue was
limited to the boys they had crushes on.

  “Regardless, it’s too much noise,” said Marnella. “The Empress is already disappointed in your extended tardiness in returning to the capital. She wants a full report on your mission.”

  “I’ve given her a full report,” said Cadrian. “Just not in person.”

  “You know what I mean,” said Marnella. “The Empress misses you, Elyse. You’re one of the strongest voices House Ardstone has when it comes to swaying her opinion.”

  “As true as that may be, it doesn’t mean she trusts me completely,” said Cadrian. “If she did, there’d be no reason for her to be holding Sabrina as she is.”

  Sabrina. The youngest of the Ardstone sisters. She’d been born late in their mother’s life, and had always been of poor health as a result. Taking care of her and keeping her safe had fallen more to Cadrian than Marnella, though she was the middle daughter.

  “She’s more of a soft hostage, really,” said Marnella. “She’s still allowed to roam the palace grounds freely. And if you were a little less rebellious in the way you operate, I have no doubt the Empress would allow her the occasional visit home.”

  Cadrian didn’t take the bait. She ran a finger along the hem of her eyepatch.

  “Did the Empress accept the basic details of my story?” asked Cadrian.

  “Of course,” said Marnella. “You’re growing paranoid, Elyse. Your behavior does chafe the Empress, but she has no reason to suspect deception in your reports. She wasn’t holding out hope that the information on the heartgem’s location was good, to begin with. Whether it was bonded to a now deceased Heart Holder, or never there to recover in the first place, it makes no real difference to her.”