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?
“Heart Holder,” bellowed the dragon. The speech came from a deep place within it, its mouth and tongue remaining unnervingly still as the sound projected. “You were not brought here to establish a kingdom.”
Hal heard the words in the same way he heard a foreign language. They had no meaning to him, and even if he’d been listening properly, he wasn’t sure he’d have understood. Moreover, there was only one thing Hal wished to know that the monstrous dragon could tell him.
“Why?” he shouted, his tone of voice betraying his emotions. “Why did you kill them? Why did they all have to die?”
The dragon ignored his question even as its paralyzing crimson eyes stared into him.
“I bring you fire and punishment,” it said. “If you want for answers, seek them above.”
It punctuated the last word with a roar that progressed into a blast of furious flame. Hal drew his pistol and cocked it in record time, barely managing to pull the trigger and cast Flame Shield in time to hold the inferno at bay.
“Run!” he screamed, to Laurel. She clung tighter to his arm, and what else could she have done? It was bad advice, and Hal knew it the instant he’d said it. The dragon would have opportunity to pick her off first, if she ran.
Holding his Flame Shield took all of Hal’s concentration, and even with the spell up, some of the heat from the dragon’s continuous fire breath still made it through. He let out a scream as the pistol became too hot for him to hold. He still held it, at least for an instant, and then his spell failed and the flames splashed across both him and Laurel.
Hal dug into the sand, throwing it onto Laurel to stunt the flames before they could make it through her dress and into flesh. He barely noticed the fires on his own clothing, only dropping to roll and pat them when his instincts forced him to.
He was still smoldering as he rose to one knee. The dragon knocked him aside with a disdainful flick of one claw. Hal tumbled across the sand, coming to a stop in time to see the monster seize Laurel in its claw and take off.
“No!” he shouted. “Damn you!”
The dragon flew, but not far. It came down in the middle of Lorne, spraying fire on everything it could. The wooden stage and tables Meridon had so carefully arranged for the festival were little more than scattered firewood in the path of the dragon’s breath.
Hal sprinted toward the town as fast as he could, his burns crying out with pain, his shirt in charred tatters. People were already dying, caught in the path of the fire, or within reach of the creature’s snapping jaws. He didn’t see Laurel in its clutches anymore, and that alone was almost enough to make Hal fall to his knees.
Zoria burst out of one of the town’s buildings, her runic spear already in hand and twisting into a violent attack. Hal watched her feint to one side, tricking the dragon into spraying its fire as she charged in to attempt a stab.
The dragon batted her aside with one of its wings. Hal had his sword out, though he didn’t remember drawing it. He charged, watching with horror as the dragon incinerated another group of unlucky bystanders.
The dragon swiveled its long necked head at the last second, unleashing another burst of fire. Hal had his pistol out, though it was still hot against his skin, and he was forced to aim it left handed. He pulled the trigger and cast Flame Shield, buying himself a precious instant in which to get within reach.
His sword struck a glancing blow against the scales of the dragon’s abdomen. The creature reared back on its hind legs and stomped one of its front claws down. Hal was wise to that attack by now, and threw himself into a roll that put him out of range. But unfortunately, not out of range of the dragon’s wings. One of them knocked him back, throwing him a dozen feet through the air. He hit the sand in a sprawled heap.
Zoria took advantage of his distraction. Hal watched, his heart pounding with fear for her safety, as she moved with unreal speed. In the span of a few seconds, she darted her spear in and out of the dragon’s underbelly half a dozen times.
The dragon roared and attempted to stomp her, but she dodged it, much as Hal had. She leapt in the air, pulling her spear back for a plunging stab. The dragon snapped its teeth at her, missing the bite, but still knocking her back with a blow from its snout.
And then, it was in the air again, the force of the wind from its wings knocking back people and flaring the fires of the town. Hal watched it disappear into the night, knowing that it would return to its roost.
He stumbled through Lorne, barely able to make sense of what he was seeing. He was shouting something, but he was too dazed to make sense of the word, too lost to his own grief and emotions to think.
“Lilith!” he shouted. “Lilith!”
He found Laurel, not his sister, lying in a pool of her own blood near where the dragon had first touched down. She had burns across her back and shoulder, and at least one of the claws had pierced through her ribcage. Her left cheek had a horrible cut that ran from her eye to her chin, the skin there sliced through like paper. But she was still breathing. Hal carefully picked her up, trying to keep his tears from splashing down anywhere that might further contaminate her wounds.
The town was still in chaos, but Meridon had begun directing people to bring the injured inside the inn. The innkeeper, who’d suffered burns of his own to his chest and neck, grimaced when he saw Hal carrying Laurel’s bloody body.
Hal waited, his arms aching from the strain of holding Laurel, until Koda was finally ready to look at her. He laid her down on a bed in one of the inn’s empty rooms and turned around as Koda began cutting Laurel’s dress off.
“She’s in bad shape,” said the old woman. “I can’t do much for her if one of those claws stirred up her innards too much.”
“Just… do what you can,” said Hal. It hurt to talk, as though he had a lead pistol ball stuck in his throat. “Please. Don’t let her die.”
Koda made a tisking noise, and then let out a shaky sigh.
“Even if I do save her, that cut across her cheek is going to leave one mean scar,” she said.
“I don’t care about scars,” said Hal.
“You might not, but it isn’t so simple for her,” said Koda. “She’s highborn, the daughter of a lord, albeit a minor one. Having her looks marred will only complicate her life that much further. You may think it ridiculous, but that’s the way of things for those nobles. Bunch of superficial twats, if you ask me.”
I still don’t care. All I want is for her to be okay.
CHAPTER 41
Hal waited in the room, keeping his eyes on the wall as Koda worked. The despair he felt was like nothing he’d experienced before. During the attack on his family’s estate, he’d been too shocked to process what was happening, to fully understand the extent of what he was losing. But this time, it was real to him, and it carried all of the suppressed emotions from the last dragon encounter.
“I’ve done all I can do for her,” said Koda, after more than an hour. “I gave her some sandweed tea to keep her from waking and being in pain. She has a blanket over her, so you can look, if you want.”
Hal turned around and looked at Laurel
, feeling his despair coalesce into a deep, burning rage. She still had dried blood on her, and her cheek was just as bad as Koda had said. The old woman had stitched it up, but it would heal in a way that would leave her face permanently marked. It looked as though it would even affect the dimple on that side of her cheek. Would she still let herself smile as freely, once she saw that?
“Don’t do anything rash, boy,” said Koda. “This is just the way of things, here in Lorne. We get a dragon attack every decade or so. Not as often as Fool’s Valley, but it’s not unusual.”
Hal left the room. He walked slowly, his hands drifting down to the hilt of his sword, and then the handle of his pistol. He reached into his shirt and pulled out his gemstone, and saw something that made him stop in his tracks.
It wasn’t red anymore. Hal’s gemstone had changed colors, and was now a deep, sapphire blue. The same color blue as deep clear water, and Laurel’s eyes. He closed his hand around it and reopened it, as if doing so might return it to its original red hue.
How is this possible?
It was another blow to his already lacking confidence. His gem wasn’t a ruby anymore, and even with what little knowledge Hal had about gem magic, he knew that meant that his spells would be useless. He wouldn’t be able to shield against the dragon’s flames. Facing it without any means of defense would be throwing his life away.
And yet, he was still going to do it. The feasibility of the task in front of him had nothing to do with whether or not he would accomplish it. Hal would climb the mountain, raid its roost, and put his sword through its neck.
Zoria was waiting outside, leaning against the inn’s sandstone brick wall. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but it was late enough in the night for the darkness to have lost its bite. He could see clearly enough to tell that she’d either lost the hairband in the fight or taken it off herself, her pointed elven ears protruding upward.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Hal would have grinned at her under any other circumstance. Somehow, she understood that aspect of him. Or maybe, she just understood revenge, and knew that Hal was the type of man who craved it, against all odds.
“If you come with me, it must be of your own will,” said Hal. “I’m not going to force you to fight by my side.”
“Of course, master,” she said, mockingly. “Your surfacer sense of honor is quite something. I’m almost tempted to resist, just to get a sense of how badly you want it.”
Hal shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood to verbally spar with her.
“There’s something else you should know,” he said. He pulled out his gemstone and held it out on his hand or her to see. Zoria stared at it for a moment, and then gave a slow, unsurprised nod.
“Aangavar named you as the Heart Holder,” she said. “I wished you’d have told me of this sooner. Though, perhaps I should have known that no normal surfacer would have the privilege to entwine their fate with my own.”
“The… Heart Holder?” Hal frowned in confusion. “What does that mean?”
Zoria stepped closer to him, placing a finger on the gemstone, the sapphire, that Hal still held in his palm.
“The heartgem is an artifact from a time before even my people’s memory,” she said. “It holds the magic of all five of the elemental gemstones within it, and potentially more beyond that. The full range of one’s heart and emotion is absorbed by the heartgem, lending the Heart Holder an enormous amount of power.”
Hal took a closer look at the heartgem. Had Lilith known what she was giving him when she’d placed it around his neck? No, she couldn’t have, and it made his chest hurt even just to consider.
“You can explain this to me on the way,” said Hal. “I don’t want to waste time. You already wounded it, I think. Maybe we can–”
A heart wrenching scream came from down the road, where Meridon and a few of the other men in town were busy lining up bodies, in some cases for identification. Vrodas was on his knees next to the pale, disemboweled body of Theron.
The ogre let out a second scream, louder and shriller than the first, the sound silencing the entire town. He collapsed forward onto Theron, heedless of the way the man’s blood smeared onto his tunic, and began to sob uncontrollably.
“Vrodas…” said Meridon, approaching him slowly. “I am sorry. He was a good man.”
Vrodas slowly stood to his feet, his pain shifting into a more dangerous emotion. He slowly shook his head, and then stomped off in the direction of the inn. Hal caught a glimpse of his face and saw fury in the ogre’s tortured expression.
“Vrodas…” Meridon followed after him, as did Hal, after a moment’s hesitation. The ogre strode across the inn’s barroom, headed for an old two handed sword that had been mounted on a lacquered, ornamental frame behind where the stage had once been.
Vrodas seized the weapon and pulled it free, snapping nails and leather bindings as easily as he might have plucked an apple from a tree. Meridon stopped approaching him, watching warily as the ogre felt the heft of the weapon.
“I will return to pay for this weapon,” said Vrodas, his voice scarily conversational. “And any damages to the mount that you wish to charge.”
“Vrodas, you’re aren’t thinking rationally,” said Meridon. “You’ll throw your life away if you go after that monster alone!”
“He won’t be alone,” said Hal. “We’re going after it, too. He can come with us.”
Meridon seemed to notice Zoria for the first time since the attack started. The expression on his face was dark, judgmental, and a little afraid. He lifted a finger and pointed it warily at Zoria.
“I saw what she was,” said Meridon. “Our town doesn’t need that kind of trouble! The dragon is enough on its own, let alone whatever this little… thing, is.”
“Mind your tongue, bull,” said Zoria. “Lest I decide to cut it out.”
Hal set a hand on her shoulder, as much to reassure her that he stood with her as to hold her back, if she decided to make good on her threat.
“We’re leaving immediately,” said Hal. “I just need to… say my goodbye to Laurel. You’ll take care of her for me, won’t you?”
The glare Meridon shot at Hal made it appear like the innkeeper thought that all of the death and destruction was somehow his fault.
“She’s one of us,” said Meridon. “Of course we’ll take care of her.”
She’s one of us, he says. But not me. I’m just an outsider, with trouble following in my wake.
Hal headed upstairs to check in on Laurel. She was still asleep, but he crouched down at her bedside and took one of her hands into his own. It was warm, warmer than it should have been. He didn’t let himself think about what that meant.
“I know you didn’t want me to do this,” he whispered. “And I know that… there’s a good chance that it will get me killed. But I can’t…”
Hal closed his eyes. It still shamed him as much then to cry in front of her as it ever had, even asleep as she was.
“I can’t let it get away with this,” he whispered. “I can’t let it do it again. Not to you and me, or another town. I just can’t…”
He hoped that she would live and recover, and eventually understand, even if he died in the attempt. Hal gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and then headed outside to meet up with the others.
Vrodas was on his knees next to Theron’s body, cradling his dead friend. He leaned his face in close, letting his forehead press against Theron’s. He whispered something that Hal couldn’t make out and didn’t need to hear, and then gave him a soft kiss on the lips, his forehead briefly touching with Theron’s a second time in parting.
The sight of the grief stricken ogre walking toward him, the massive sword held tight in his grip, was more than a little intimidating. Hal tried to think of something to say, but knew that words wouldn’t do anything for the pain Vrodas carried. Instead, Hal settled for shifting his new companion’s mind onto something else.
“Do you know how to fig
ht with that sword?” asked Hal.
Vrodas’s smile was a hideous thing. He spun the heavy sword in a series of effortless flourishes, passing it from hand to hand, down to his lower arms, and then back around again into an overhead chop that made the air sing. Hal nodded approvingly. Zoria licked her lips.
“I don’t want to waste time,” said Hal. “Let’s just get this over with.”
CHAPTER 42
They walked down the desert road on foot, in the light of the rising sun. Hal held the heartgem in his hand as they traveled, trying and failing to will it from sapphire, back to ruby.
“What else do your people know about this artifact?” he asked Zoria.
She gave a slight shrug.
“We tell stories of the Heart Holders, who were usually great elven warriors and valkyries of old,” she said. “Some claim that there are more than one heartgem, but others say that there is only one, fading in and out of time, bonding with only those worthy of its power.”
“Bonding?” asked Hal. “What does that mean?”
“The heartgem is not like a regular gemstone,” she said. “If can only be used by the one it is bonded to. There are legends of Heart Holders being stabbed in the back by friends and even lovers in an attempt to steal the heartgem, but in each case, the gem would turn clear and eventually disappear entirely, useless to anyone else.”
Hal considered the information, trying to fit it against the events of his life over the past few days.
Was that why the dragon and its rider attacked my family’s estate? Were they after the heartgem?
“You must return it to a ruby,” said Zoria. “The water elemental magic of the sapphire will do us little good against a dragon, as I’m sure you are aware, surfacer.”
“Alright, but easier said than done.” Hal gritted his teeth, concentrating furiously on what it had once looked like. He tried stirring his emotions toward passion and lust. He tried channeling one of his fire spells. Nothing happened, and the heartgem stubbornly held its blue color.
Heartgem Homestead (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 1) Page 22