“What?”
“Here’s another upheaval for your beliefs, Tek. I don’t believe the dragons breathe fire.”
“The western bos burned for a moon.” Hardt watched as she circled around Getek, touching his shoulder as she passed and returned to her chair.
“Hardt, you said the dragon’s breath blew you over.”
“Yes. It knocked all of us over so it could get away and I was right there at its snout and flew back into the thicket.”
“Why weren’t you burnt?”
“Why weren’t we burnt?” Getek could remember the scene more clearly than Hardt. He breathed Vyck’s words in echoed understanding.
Hardt’s memory was clouded with emotion, but he tried to understand as Vyck continued.
“You said just now the dragon turned to thank you even as the others came into range, throwing ‘stones and spears…” she paused for a moment, letting him finish the thought first, “and brands.’”
He got it. “We burnt the forest.”
“They.”
Getek again echoed her conclusion. “We. Not you. We burnt it with Brower’s brands.”
Vyck faced Hardt, letting Getek alone to swallow this new guilt.
“Take the forest off your list of crimes. Mitigate the murder by your lack of intent. And give yourself credit for trying to set things right.”
For a few moments there was silence. Cricket song and wind rustling the few dried and dying leaves magnified the stillness. Vyck could think of nothing more to say to comfort her nephew. Her nephew could not think how he could logically forgive himself. And the guardesman could only think how many creatures and plants had been sacrificed in the fire.
Getek propelled himself to his feet. “For myself, when the dead season is past, I will take the scattered members of the first front back to the burntbos and try to clean it up as best we can. For you, Hardt, I can only offer you punishment. Whether you accept it is up to you.”
“I will accept your judgement.”
“I have no right to judge you, Hardt. But I can offer you this payment. First, from this moment forward you will not touch a spear. Second, you will accept the gratitude of the Stray as a reminder that a creature’s motive tells you more than its actions. And third, you must live and be present for that life.”
Hardt took the sentence into his heart, considered it, and nodded. “Let’s start now and enjoy Kilalee’s sausage bread and Liena’s steaks and Kiersta’s chocolates.”
And so, with the moon high above and few stars to light the table, they dined in silence on gifts well-meant.
The bondstar was near setting when a terrible crashing racket startled all the birds from their roosts. The air about the small homestead was filled with swallows and wrens and eagles. The imperturbable brickowl roosted in the wittenrood hooted once at the disturbance and merely fluffled his wings. But as the noise grew louder and closer, the three hunters got to their feet and fingered weapons on their belts. Hardt’s mistake sitting at the forefront of their minds, none actually drew their weapon. As it came closer the noise slowed down and it became clear that it was headed, albeit unsteadily for the homestead. When the noise was close enough that they could hear her swearing, the three relaxed and Getek jogged over to the treeline to help Talee find her way.
“What are you doing awake?” The girl was dripping with sweat despite the chill of the night.
Getek led her to a chairs. “Waiting for you.”
Talee’s frantic energy stilled for a moment and she looked at him quizzically, surprised that he should know she was coming.
Vyck rescued her. “Talee, he’s joking. We’ve just been…” she struggled to find a suitable description.
“Talking.” Hardt finished for her.
“Hardt,” Talee stood, still out of breath, and rummaged through her pack. “I have a message for you from the kimoet!”
Getek and Vyck stared at each other over the two young people exchanging the rolled sheets of the message. Her eyes bore into him, questioning what this was and if he’d known it was coming. He could do nothing but honestly shrug his own ignorance. The message was not sealed. It was tied with a short blue rope which hung from Hardt’s hand as he read the brief note. Talee, gone since the festival, did not know that Hardt had learned to read and she stared at Getek, impatient for him to take the note and read it aloud. She jerked suddenly back when Hardt spoke.
“When the weather is better for travel, the kimoet would like me to come to Kahago and teach them how to fight the dragons.” He looked up at Getek. “I am to bring a selection of my own spears.”
Nine
∞
The day Hardt left dawned dark. It was early summer and already the humid heat was weighing heavily on people’s moods. The shale was hoping for a good rainstorm to break the pressure and scatter the dark clouds skulking on the horizon. Hardt rose and fixed himself a cool morning drink. He’d risen early to watch the dawn but missed it behind the brewing storm. So he sat quietly with his thoughts and waited for Vyck to get up and go about her morning routine. Tomorrow’s dawn would be the anniversary of his shame. In fact most of the countryshale were planning to find their way here to see him off tomorrow. That’s why he was leaving today.
Everything he planned to take was packed neatly beside his bed already. Noah would certainly divine his intentions and come by some time today for a farewell. Getek had already made his promises to look after Vyck. All that remained was for Hardt to figure out how he could actually leave her.
He knew he had to leave. To live here and perennially suffer the second payment of accepting the shale’s gratitude was a sure way to madness. A million times he’d thought it over. Getek’s payments were good and he obeyed them to his benefit, but they weren’t reparations. To satisfy his own soul, Hardt knew he needed to leave and search out some answers.
“Good morning.” His aunt appeared in the doorway tying a light skirt around her waist. She blinked sleepily and glanced around at the ugly morning. A red mark in the shape of her knuckles marred the left side of her face. Though she had gotten her first pillow only a few seasons after settling in Stray, she still slept on her hand. The fingers would be sore but that would fade like the red imprint and tonight she would crush them again.
A heavy breeze whipped by him and ruffled her hair. He thought of her hair as black, but it was mostly silver now and it was getting longish. He should cut it for her before he left. She ran a hand through the growing mess and plodded down the steps to him to run a hand through his own recently chopped hair.
“I’ll gather your spears by the door, so you don’t have to touch them till you go.”
He took her hand from his head and looked up at the woman who raised him, who’d taught him to walk and hunt and think, who was the only family he knew and the best friend he’d ever have and procrastinated. “Let’s go fishing.”
She happily agreed to the delay and so after a quick washup, they gathered their nets and ticklers and hiked down around past Badren’s place to the swamps. Not many words passed between them but that was not unusual. Hardt was happy just to be with her, chasing through countryside, working together to hunt down a meal. The clouds were blocking what little sunlight would have wormed its way through the granny trees and a low wind blew constantly through the maze of gnarled and twisted briers and bushes growing out of the swamp waters and down from the old granny trees. If they weren’t moving swiftly, fishing in the swamps was a fast business, the chill would have quickly disheartened them. Even so they didn’t hunt long and threw back most of their catch. Vyck had no need of stores now in the height of a beautiful living season and with Hardt going north. They hunted till they caught the fish that would provide the nicest oils for smoothed leathers. Conveniently its taste was better than much of the other swamp life as well.
After fishing, they cooked. After cooking, they ate. And after eating, Vyck, more practiced at facing the inevitable, gathered Hardt’s spears by the door. W
ith the ice broken, they began discussing what supplies he had packed and what else he might need. Vyck thought of suggesting he not leave till the storm had passed, but didn’t, knowing he couldn’t stay for tomorrow. Together they went up to the rock shack to gather some foodstuffs for his hike.
On their return they found Noah waiting patiently in the yard, running his fingers over the furs and hides piled about and hung under the raintarp.
“Hi Vyck.”
“Noah.” Vyck nodded to the boy and took Hardt’s bundles from him.
“Hardt, I’m going to catch some mudbugs for the pot tomorrow. Wanna come?”
“Well my waders are drying.” Hardt felt foolish gesturing to the side of the house where the boots were hung. It was just the first thought to get to his mouth.
“Oh, I wasn’t planning to climb in after them. I was just gonna string a net and hang out by the side of the creek.”
“I can do that.”
The boys wandered through the woods to willow creek, Noah talking non-stop about the gossip in the countryshale as he’d heard it from his mom. He passed along countless Strayer opinions on Hardt’s solo hike up to Voferen Kahago and waiting so late to go and if he would organize the guarde to wipe out the infernal dragons. He stammered rather more than usual but otherwise put up a good front for his distraction. And with every step he felt the Ring of Honor banging against his leg.
At the creek, Noah splashed through the water at a low point and attached his end of the net to a couple of heavy rocks which would keep it low to trap the crawling bugs as well as any other larger creeklife which might flow into it. On his way back across the water, Noah bent to set some rocks to hold the net down at the center and slipped the Ring into the water, making sure it stuck in the net. Then he met Hardt on the northern bank and the pair settled themselves beneath a wide leaf tree in case the rain caught them out.
It was several moments before Hardt realized that Noah was silent. He’d been staring off left to where the tip of a rock poked up through the water, making a tiny white cascade which sticks and waterspiders spun down into. After the tumble, the stick would bounce up and continue on its random way, the spider would scramble off onto a different current. Hardt couldn’t decide which was smarter; to change the current path because of a rock you’ve already hit, or to ride the current where the rock throws you. It didn’t feel right to be going to Voferen Kahago, but wasn’t that where the current was taking him? He noticed Noah’s silence because he hoped Noah’s thoughts could take him from his own.
“You’ll catch more after the storm, when the creek is running high.”
Noah flashed his honest grin at Hardt. “I’m supposed to be helping erect the rain tarp over the dancesquare anyway.”
“I knew you’d come by. I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye to you.”
Noah nodded awkwardly. He hadn’t been certain Hardt wouldn’t already be gone when he dropped by. “Getek will come by too.”
“He’s coming for Vyck.”
“I’ll look after her too. She won’t be alone.”
“Thank you.”
They lapsed into silence again and Hardt’s thoughts returned to the current. His plan to speak to the queen and partner, to change their minds about dragons seemed childish the closer he came to leaving. What could the kimoet learn from a boy like him? And was he certain of the truth? Everyone seemed to think the dragons were dangerous and they might be right for all Hardt really knew. He met one dragon after a long hike with little sleep and lots of drama. As distraught as he was after spearing the woman, he could have imagined the trees thanked him for his company all night. For all he really knew, he may have handed that dragon its breakfast when he lifted the dying woman up. He couldn’t really know if the dTelfur or the dragons were dangerous to landers. But he believed that they weren’t and he could tell the kimoet that. He could be a voice of dissent. And he didn’t have to wait until he reached Voferen Kahago.
With a burst of energy, he turned to his friend. “Noah, that dragon never attacked me. It didn’t breathe fire and I don’t think they eat people. You shouldn’t be so afraid.”
“What?”
“The woman didn’t attack me. It was an accident. The others just didn’t see it all.”
“Hardt you sound crazy.”
“I’ve been going crazy. Noah, please just…” he stared out at the creek, daunted at the task of convincing even Noah. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Consider the possibility that Heigna’s sister and that weaver ran off together. And our beastkeepers don’t mark their herds. How could the dragons know they belong to one of us? At some point our leaders and their leaders had a conversation and we got along. Maybe all we need to do is have another conversation.”
Noah looked west instinctively. Then he bit his lip and nodded at Hardt. “This is what you’re going to tell the kimoet?”
“Something like.”
Noah laughed. “Well, then you’ll be back sooner than I thought.”
A smile broke across Hardt’s face as well. “Could be.”
Noah looked down and futzed with a stain on his pants for a few moments, thinking hard. “You and Vyck both believe the dragons aren’t dangerous.”
“Yes.”
The young Mytree looked up into Hardt’s face. “Then, I’ll consider the possibility.”
“Thank you.”
They crossed palms solemnly and then Noah hopped to his feet and splashed down to the net. He pulled up the Ring of Honor and carried it over to Hardt.
“I guess now I know why you don’t want this. But I brought it as a farewell present.” He held the ring out tentatively. “You could use it to remind yourself that as distant and anti-social as we all may seem…”
“’we all’ excluding the Mytree clan, of course.”
“and Kalina.” Noah laughed briefly before he plowed awkwardly on. “What I mean is it could remind you that we care about you. Vyck says it doesn’t matter to her what anybody thinks about her. But I think it matters that they do think about her. I like you, Hardt, and I’ll be thinking about you. So will a lot of Stray. That’s all.”
Hardt got to his feet and took the ring from his friend. He didn’t put it on but tucked it into his pouch. “Thank you, Noah. I’ll remember.”
“Well I’ve got to run off with these fish and get to the dancesquare before Jaydee comes hunting for me.”
“Bring her over later would you? And Hunny? Just to distract her for the evening.”
“I can do that.”
“Bye Noah. I’ll think about you, too, pretty often I imagine.”
The garrulous Mytree just nodded and clasped his friend by both arms. Then he splashed off into the creek and dragged the nearly empty net from its moorings and off towards Center with not a glance over his shoulder.
Hardt pulled the armband from his pouch as he walked home and wondered how it was that he could earn an honor and owe a bloodprice for the same event.
Vyck was pulling a batch of hoskas from the hearth when he got back. He laughed and raced across the yard to steal one hot from the stones. Juggling it from hand to hand to keep from burning himself he dodged Vyck’s thrown towel and led her on a chase around back and through the little garden. By the time she caught him, after running through the cottage and out to the front again, the bread was cool and she ripped it from him and tore a chunk off with her teeth before returning it and stalking back over to the hearth.
“They’re all for your hike anyway.”
“But they taste better hot and stolen.”
“Did Noah go home?”
“Yes. He’ll be back later though. Come look what he gave me.” Hardt pulled a chair up to the table and untied the pouch from the belt.
Vyck joined him at the table, wiping her hands on the old apron she wore over her filthy fishing clothes. She was not surprised when he set the Ring of Honor on the table. But she picked it up and ran her fingers along the designs.
&n
bsp; “It’s good workmanship. I never did get to really look at it before. And I wasn’t interested after Noah rescued it from the creek.”
Hardt looked up to question her, but stopped himself, “Of course you knew he had it. He was going to trick me into finding it, but then just handed it to me. Would you like to keep it?”
“Hardt, I believe it falls under payment number two.”
“But I did accept it. Why should I keep it?”
“Because it is a reminder.”
“Yes, that I’m a bad watch and a murderer.”
“And you were in danger of forgetting this otherwise? This is a work of art. It tells a tale.” Vyck flourished the silver band with passion. “To any Stray who see it, it calls a tale of our shale’s beginnings, of our first guarde and gives us identity. To the members of the first front of the first wing, it calls a tale of adventure and survival and renews their courage to get through life. To me, it calls a tale of my nephew’s goodness. These clawmarks, they tell me his instinct was to save a mother whose children needed her. They tell me he selflessly offered his own life for that of another creature. These three flames serve to enlighten me three times. First they tell me my beloved boy reached through prejudice and fear and on pain of he knew not what, to serve the needs of another. Second they teach me that our imaginations are limited by our biases. Third they remind me that a person can mean well and do ill. In everything you did, you meant well. You’re a better man than most I’ve met. Take it, Hardt and if it tells you nothing, at least remember what it tells me.”
Hardt reached out his hand and took the band. As he did a silent flash of lighting leapt from cloud to cloud and the shimmer in the air sent a shiver down his spine. The white hairs growing along the ragged scars of the dragon’s scratch stood on end. He reached his other hand up and smoothed them down before clasping the Ring of Honor around his left bicep. It was heavy on his arm and he felt pinned down by it, bereft of choice. For the people of Kaveg, it would label him a guarde and the guarde of Voferen would judge him by it. But he would wear it for Vyck’s sake. He would wear it for a reminder of her.
Hardt's Tale: A Mobious' Quest Novel Page 10