She made a mocking face and spun in a circle, offering an exaggerated curtsey at the end. Hal shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile at the amusement he saw on her face, as though she was trying desperately to keep from bursting out into laughter at her joke.
“You are kind of a pain,” he said, halfheartedly. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”
“A few times,” said Laurel, grinning wickedly. “I’m just teasing you.”
Hal rolled his eyes, but she was already on to the next thing, pouring them each a generous goblet of wine.
They drank as they waited for the stew to cook. Laurel explained how she and Willum had figured out how to brew their own “wine”, though it was really more of a hard cider. Hal nodded along through the conversation, still feeling a bit stuck on his thoughts from before.
She reminded him so much of Lilith, which added a secondary, confusing layer onto their interaction. Laurel was so full of joy and life, and even though she was being polite by not prying into his past, he could tell that she was curious about it, and curious about him.
“Will you tell me of how you came to live out here in this valley?” asked Hal. The question left his mouth before he could stop it, his lips suitably loosened by the wine.
“Maybe,” said Laurel. “But only if you tell me about your homeland.”
Hal was about to agree to the exchange when Laurel stood to check the progress of the stew on the fire. She had to bend over again to do it, and suddenly his mind was in a completely different mode of thinking. It was just the two of them in the homestead, at night, with a bottle of wine to share.
Stop that. She’s a sweet girl, with a brother on her way back to her. What would her brother think of any this, let alone if more happened?
Laurel glanced over her shoulder at him as she stirred the pot. Were her thoughts traveling in a similar direction? He couldn’t really tell from the expression on her face. Hal was about to say something to break the tension when a loud, grotesque roar pierced the quiet night. Laurel’s eyes went wide.
“That’s the dragon,” she whispered. “For Mystra’s sake! It usually goes weeks without being so active.”
She hurried to dim the lantern on the table, which made the room significantly darker, lit only by the fire. Hal stood up, feeling his heart racing in his chest. He had no idea what to do, but his instincts screamed for him to take action. He saw the dragon in his mind’s eye, and remembered the sensation of its claw pressing down on his chest, squeezing the breath out of him.
The roar came again, and this time Hal could hear the beating of wings along with it. The monster was closer, swooping down toward the homestead. He thought he could sense exactly where it was, though it might have just been a fantasy fueled by his fear.
“Hal!” hissed Laurel. “Lie down! We don’t want to be visible through the windows!”
Hal nodded dumbly and lowered himself to the floor next to her, He was trembling, and almost flinched away when Laurel reached her hand over to intertwine with his. He felt the ground shake as something massive landed nearby, and then suddenly, the homestead was filled with blindingly bright light.
Am I dying? Is this it? Did it come to finish me off?
At first, he thought the flames had burst through the windows, as they had back in the ballroom on his family’s estate. But somehow, Laurel’s homestead withstood the onslaught. Hal could still feel the fire’s heat inside small room, intense enough to make his clothes feel dry and confining.
The dragon only let loose that single burst, along with another roar, and then took flight again. The sound of its beating wings slowly fading into the distance was of little comfort to Hal. Laurel squeezed his hand as soon as the dragon was far enough away to be inaudible and quickly stood to her feet.
“Curse that stupid monster to the depths of misery!” she muttered. “I have to put the flames out. Can you help?”
Hal was still paralyzed, held in place where he lay on the ground by fear. It was as though the dragon’s claw was still holding him, pinning him where he was. He blinked, only slowly realizing that Laurel was waiting for an answer, and then gave a small nod.
“Come on,” said Laurel. “There’s a ladder in the stable outside. Oh, I hope Toothy didn’t get too riled up by that stupid flying brute!”
Hal followed her out of the homestead and into the night. The sky was overcast, and if not for the small flames burning atop the roof of the homestead, it would have been pitch black. Hal was surprised that the structure didn’t seem to be burning more strongly. In fact, it didn’t look like it had taken any permanent damage from the fire blast.
Laurel led him over to a small stable he hadn’t seen before. The sound of a horse whinnying loudly inside reached Hal before Laurel opened the door.
“It’s okay, Toothy,” Laurel said into the darkness. “I’ll give you some extra grain in just a minute.”
She found the ladder, and Hal helped her carry it back to the homestead. He climbed up it first, pulling himself onto the slanted roof and waiting while Laurel found a bucket and began ferrying water back and forth.
The flames went out easily enough, though in at least one place, Hal could see that the roof would need to some repairs to prevent against leaks. He climbed down the ladder, helped Laurel return everything to the barn, and then joined her back inside.
“This has happened before,” said Hal. “Hasn’t it?”
Laurel had poured herself another glass of wine and was taking liberal sips from it. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and nodded.
“It’s where the Fool’s Valley got its name from,” she said. “Every attempt at building within the valley has eventually met its end from a dragon attack.”
“Why would you think you could do any differently, then?” The question came out harsher than Hal had intended it, and it he saw the effect it had on Laurel.
“Go ahead, then!” snapped Laurel. “Say it! It’s not like you aren’t thinking it. I’m just a stupid fool, like all the rest of them…”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Hal. “I just mean, you’re out here all by yourself. I’ve seen what the dragon can do. It just seems…”
He couldn’t think of the right word for it, and that only seemed to cut Laurel more deeply. She closed her eyes and looked away from him.
“My brother spent extra money on special fireproof clay and roof tiles,” she said, as though admitting a crime. “It helps a little. Of course, the dragon could still rip this place apart, if it wanted to.”
“And you aren’t… scared?” asked Hal. “To be out here alone?”
Laurel closed her eyes. Hal thought she was annoyed with his line of questioning, but when she finally turned to look at him, he could see the fear in her expression, along with the tears running down her cheeks. Even in what little remained of the fire’s light, he could see her clearly.
“I’m terrified, Hal,” she whispered. “I’m so scared. Of the dragon. And of being alone…”
He wasn’t about to let her stand there and cry. Hal crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. It felt strange offering her comfort, given how short of a time period they’d known each other, but Laurel took it all the same, burying her face against his shoulder.
He held her against him for several seconds. She shifted her head, looking up at him, waiting for something. She reminded him so much of Lilith, but she wasn’t Lilith. She was a victim of the dragon as much as he was, her suffering extended out over months or years instead of being inflicted in a single night. She was vulnerable, and she was right there, pressed up against him.
Wearing pants too, of all things…
The ridiculousness of it made Hal smile. She had no idea how weird it was for her to flaunt herself so openly. He gave her another hug, feeling her wet tears press into the thin fabric of his shirt as she leaned into his shoulder, and then pulled away from her.
“Let’s eat,” he said. “And finish that bottle of w
ine.”
CHAPTER 9
The rest of the night was far less eventful. Hal and Laurel sat in the small cozy living room and talked. She told him more about her homestead, the crops, and her horse, Toothy, and she asked him questions about what things had been like back in the Collected Provinces. Hal smiled in amusement at the way she reacted to his answers.
She was dumbfounded at his descriptions of a secular society, not bound by the dogma of a religion, and she had a difficult time grasping the basics of a representative democracy where the people chose their leaders through a vote. Krestia’s Cradle was not a place that had a tradition of either.
They said goodnight when the meal was over and the fire began to burn low in the hearth. Laurel showed him to his room and lingered by the door, smiling at him as prepared to climb into bed. He watched her silhouette as she left, closing the door behind her.
She’s a sweet girl. Not like Eleanor, or the promiscuous party girls back home…
He hadn’t thought much of Eleanor since the attack, but as he drifted off to sleep, he found himself hoping that she’d escaped the dragon attack unscathed. Hal rose only once during the night to use the chamber pot, and had trouble falling back to sleep.
He fought the urge to wander around the homestead, forcing himself to lie back down and breathe until sleep came again. He wanted to know more about his new surroundings, but knew that he needed to rest in order to regain his strength.
He slept in the next morning, and when he strode sleepily into the sitting room, he found that Laurel had already prepared breakfast. It was a simple meal of bread, sliced apples, and cheese, and he ate it gratefully. Laurel wasn’t in the house, so he went to look for her after leaving his plate near the wash bucket. He soon found her up on the ladder surveying the damage to the roof.
“It didn’t look too bad when I was up there last night,” said Hal.
Laurel turned around and smiled at him. She still wore pants, but had put on a loose skirt over them that almost made it down to her knees. Her shirt was grey in color and simple in form, with a draw string closing the gap between her small breasts.
“It isn’t too bad,” said Laurel. “It’s just that every little repair costs something. It tends to add up over time, you know?”
Hal nodded.
“Today was the day you were planning on heading into town, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Laurel. “We can both ride Toothy. She’s strong. Most sun horses are. They’re built for crossing long distances with heavy loads, and can manage on small amounts of water.”
Hal frowned. He wasn’t sure about how he felt about riding in back of or even in front of Laurel, on the same horse. It wasn’t something commonly done back in the Collected Provinces outside of close family and intimate couples.
“Don’t you have a wagon?” he asked.
“I do,” said Laurel. “But it’s not very comfortable back there.”
She gave him a nonchalant shrug and hurried off to the barn before he could protest any further. Hal spent a couple of minutes scanning the skies, his eyes lingering on the mountain Laurel had pointed to as the dragon’s roost the day before.
She emerged from the barn leading a tan, broad shouldered horse with the most ridiculous teeth Hal had ever seen. It looked as though someone had replaced them with an overly large set of false teeth. The horse appeared to be grinning at Hal as it made its way over, and let out a pleased neigh as it came within a few feet.
“Hal, meet Toothy,” said Laurel. “Toothy, Hal.”
“A pleasure.” Hal gave a mocking bow, and the horse let out a pleased noise.
Laurel insisted on being in front, claiming that Toothy had certain stubborn habits that only she could keep under control. She attached a small wagon to the horse’s saddle and hopped on his back. Hal climbed up behind her, wondering how well the beast would manage under the large load.
“You have to hang on tighter, Hal,” said Laurel, as they got underway. “Here.”
She took his arms and wrapped them around her waist. Hal was glad that at least she couldn’t see him blushing from where she was. The idea of being pressed up against a girl in a short skirt and pants on a bumpy horse ride was like something out of the racier elven translations he’d read back in Roth’s library.
As always, thinking of one of his lost friends stirred Hal’s memories, but he managed to keep his emotions under control. He focused on the road in front of them, instead. Fool’s Valley was nestled in the foothills of the high peaks above them, and that was likely what allowed such a contrast in climates over such short distance.
The wind was at their backs as they headed down the foot trodden dirt road. The green grass of the valley slowly gave way to thinner, tougher desert scrub, which then gave way all together as they passed completely onto sand.
Hal had been worried about how the horse would fare in sand, but the road was tightly packed, curving in between dunes like a meandering river. The dry heat of the desert hit them as soon as they were a couple miles out of the valley and out of the influence of the wind and moisture carried down from the mountains.
“Will you tell me more about what your old life was like?” Laurel asked, after a half hour of silent riding.
“My old life…” said Hal. He frowned, not sure what to say. He’d given Laurel some general answers about the Collected Provinces, but it still hurt to think about his friends and family.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to drag anything up for you,” she said. “What if I just make guesses, and you tell me if I’m right or wrong? We’ll play it like a game!”
Hal couldn’t help but smile. Her enthusiasm was almost infectious, and her curiosity was flattering in its intensity.
“Alright,” he said, in a tone that made it sound like more a chore for him than it really was. “If I must…”
Laurel wiggled slightly on her spot in front of him in victory, a sensation that Hal managed to find simultaneously pleasant and embarrassing.
“We’ll start with your upbringing,” said Laurel. “From the cut of your clothes, I would guess that you were a lord’s son. Probably one of the more respected ones in court.”
Hal felt a smile creeping across his face.
“There are no lords in the Collected Provinces,” he reminded her. “And certainly no court. But I was the son of a voiceman, so I’ll give you half credit.”
“Close enough,” said Laurel. “So… you never mentioned your calling, either. I had to tend to your wounds, so I know you weren’t a warrior, but–”
“How do you know I wasn’t a warrior?” bristled Hal.
Laurel hesitated. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just… obvious. Your hands don’t have callouses. No scars on your back, other than the ones the dragon left. Your body doesn’t really have much muscle on it, at least not from what I saw when I took off your clothes…”
She trailed off, sounding suddenly embarrassed. Hal cleared his throat.
“I was a translator,” he said. “A… scholar, essentially.”
Laurel looked over her shoulder at him.
“I honestly wouldn’t have guessed that either,” she said. “But funny… now that you’ve told me, I see how you’d take to such work.”
She smiled at him, and Hal couldn’t tell whether she was teasing or not.
“Your guess was wrong, so I get a point,” said Hal.
“No fair,” said Laurel. “You only let me guess once.”
She sighed, but Hal got the sense that her curiosity wouldn’t let her stop playing.
“Let’s move on,” she eventually said. “Family! You don’t seem like the only child type. If I had to guess I’d say you had at least one or two brothers, along with… a sister?”
Lilith. My little sister.
Hal tensed up, a lump forming in his throat. He tried to keep his memories of that night from pushing back into his thoughts, but it was impossible. Lilith, in her long skirts, strawberry curls framing her f
ace. Lilith, smiling at him. Lilith, running toward the window to investigate the noise along with the rest of the crowd.
“Hal? Did I ask about something sensitive?” Laurel was shifting in the saddle to get a better look at him when suddenly, the horse reared back on its haunches and let out an anxious cry.
The dunes in front of them disappeared as a thick wall of whipping sand filled the air on all sides. Hal had to shield his eyes, but the air was so thick with dust and sand that it made little difference.
“Hal!” cried Laurel. “It’s a sandstorm! This is not good!”
The horse seemed not to think so either. It burst into movement, charging forward faster than either Hal or Laurel was prepared for. Hal had let his grip on Laurel slacken, and he fell backward, colliding once with the wagon before landing in a heap on the ground.
The horse kept running, taking Laurel along with it. Hal heard her shouting after him, but only for a few seconds, the sound of her voice fading into the harsh screech of angry sand.
CHAPTER 10
The sandstorm was thick enough to block out even the sun’s light, though Hal had to keep his eyes squinted to the point where it made no difference. He stumbled forward in a crouch, trying to keep his eyes down in hopes of spotting the road they’d been previously following.
If I don’t find the road, I’m a dead man.
Hal had never experienced a sandstorm before back in the Collected Provinces. It was a violent thing, more so even than the intense thunder storms that the sky inflicted on his family’s estate during the heat of summer.
He walked for a while, forcing his legs to take step after step, feeling aimless, as though he was traveling in circles. When he stopped to consider that he’d likely been on the road when he first fell off the horse, he began to hope that he had actually traveled in a circle. At least then Laurel would be able to find him, once the sandstorm died down.
Hal was starting to have trouble breathing. The sand was so thick in the air that opening his mouth or inhaling through his nose were both dangerous, gritty options. He stumbled forward, coughing up dirt and dust so violently that he was nearly vomiting.
Heartgem Homestead (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 1) Page 5