Hardt's Tale: A Mobious' Quest Novel

by Gwendolyn Druyor

  “No one in Stray wanted attention!” Hardt protested.

  “Stray Tor is a very different place now.”

  Hardt looked to Ker, “How did Brower wrest the Lordship from the Mytree?”

  “He didn’t. He led the Elders in installing Hundred’s brother, Jed.”

  “Who was bonded,” Stagree put in, “to Brower’s daughter, Drowlen. Their son, Roan, is Lord now. He hosted a festival twenty-two season ago when word came to us that all the dTelfur, slave and dragon alike, had been vanquished.”

  Ker took back the narrative, “That’s when I moved Hunny and our children’s families out here. So she could be surrounded by people who wouldn’t disdain her memories… and me.”

  Mobious looked solemnly up at him. “And Wray.”

  A strike of Hundred’s cane drew Stagree back to her side where he read, “Wray is an angry person. She would fit in fine at the Mytree compound but her lover and children wouldn’t stay there and she was forced to follow or lose them.” He went on his own words, “Three of Noah’s other children and their families live with us at Vyck’s cottage.

  Hardt put his hands up before him to forestall any further revelations. “This is all too overwhelming. Could we all sit again, please.”

  Stagree pulled Venoah’s empty chair over beside Hundred. Hardt indicated to Mobious that they should also move their seats to a more intimate distance. Once everyone was seated and emotions had somewhat cooled, Hardt reached out a hand to the woman who had been one of his Aunt Vyck’s favorite companions.

  “Hundred, your memories are all true.”

  It was unclear who Hundred was talking to when she scratched out, “The dragon did talk to me. I didn’t just imagine Sophie.”

  Hardt reassured her. “Sophie liked you very much. She would be distressed to see you so unwell.”

  Stagree read Hundred’s words as soon as she finished writing. “I failed her. I believed the healers who told me I imagined it. I should have gone to the kimoet and told them as I told her I would. Hardt you must go. You must tell queen Nrunel the truth and clear the dTelfur's name in our history.”

  “I will.” Hardt reassured her. “But I need your help with something more important first. Hundred, this is Mobious, the son of the dTelfur woman I killed in the burntbos before it was burnt. Sophie and I raised him.”

  Hardt placed Hundred’s frail hand in Mobious’ young one.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hundred.”

  She wrote for a moment and then set down the stylus to cover his hand with hers. “Sophie thought the world of you. You are always welcome in my home.” Ker read.

  Hundred turned and offered Mobious’ hand to her bond who took it with some trepidation.

  “This is Ker, Getek’s son.” Hardt put in by way of simple introduction even as Mobious was nodding awareness of the man’s identity.

  “Hardt had a great deal of respect for your father.”

  “I assure you, the feeling was mutual.” Ker added, sincerely, “I seriously regret any part I had in the death of your dragon, please forgive me.”

  “She was my friend, my foster mother you would say. Ker, I know you were in error of some facts… about her, about us, and I will forgive you on one condition.” He paused, waiting for an objection from any number of corners. Hearing none, he went on. “Learn the truth.”

  “I will try.” Ker vowed honestly even as he wondered what good it would do now that the dragons were gone.

  “So we are all met.” Hardt cleared his throat and set to. “Let me tell you the reason I have come back to you. Though our intent is somewhat complicated by your prejudicial Lord, our need remains. What have you heard about the battle?”

  Ker answered. “The dragons are all dead and all the dTelfur.” He gestured helplessly at Mobious, indicating he knew now that what he’d heard wasn’t entirely true.

  “The dragons are asleep. We cannot wake them.” Hardt rushed on, fearful of the reminder to Mobious. “The surviving dTelfur are mainly the old and the young. They cannot stay in the village and they do not want to live alone. I have hidden fifteen dTelfur in the southern swamps. One is particularly skilled in architecture, theoretical and practical, and she has her youngest apprentices. The others are all hard workers and have many more years left than you would expect. I was hoping you would make a place for them here in Stray Tor.” He went on quickly, forestalling Ker’s half-formed protest. “As landers. They all speak our language, more or less well, and with some help can successfully present themselves as landers. Will you, can you help us?”

  As soon as Hardt fell silent, Hundred placed her left hand on her bond’s chest and wrote furiously with her right. “Are these,” she wrote, “the only survivors?” Her hand remained poised over the dirt in fearful anticipation.

  Hardt debated his answer too long and Mobious spoke the truth. “No, there are many of us–hidden; some alone, some within lander shales. In fact, dTelfur were the first to rebuild Pace.”

  Hardt was glad the boy didn’t give her the numbers. She was too sick for such awful truths.

  After a few moments of written and whispered conference from which Ker came away clearly only grudgingly swayed, Stagree turned to the waiting guests and nodded. “We can help you.”

  Seven

  ∞

  It was decided that the dTelfur were best to arrive in smaller groups, entirely unrelated to Hardt, who would not be very welcome himself in Stray Tor. It was past lunch by the time this plan had been arranged to the general satisfaction of all present and the discussion would have continued if an obnoxious gurgle from Mobious’ stomach hadn’t made them all aware of the feasting sounds and smells outside the room. The rest of the household had gathered and were trying to avoid disturbing the meeting Venoah had told them was going on inside the entrance room. She had given no names saying only that two strangers had appeared with Stagree and closeted themselves with Ker and Hunny. So naturally every hushed conversation going on over stew and sandwiches was directed towards who had come to speak of what.

  When the fivesome appeared at the arch of the arborway all noticed the strange boy was extremely tanned for so soon after winter, but that he wasn’t as dark as Heigna. His deeply observant black eyes made several of the girls wish they’d done something with their hair or picked their clothes more carefully. But it was Hardt’s quiet presence which elicited the most attention. Some knew from the guarde honor ring on his bicep, some from the scars down his right arm, some few immediately saw his resemblance to Vyck. But nearly all knew in some way who he was and were stunned stupid to see the legend standing in front of them, holding on to the matriarch of their household for as much support as he was giving.

  It also clarified for most of the thirty people present why Venoah had insisted the healer Calien join them when no one was particularly unwell. The woman had seventy-four frseason so it was no wonder Hardt failed to recognize her as she approached, both hands spread wide for a hug.

  “I would have made vla if I had known you were coming.”

  “I haven’t had vla since Firth’s third birth day celebration.” Hardt replied, accepting the embrace, but still not certain of the old woman’s identity.

  She clarified it with a simple reference. “We lost my brother in 124 with everyone else we couldn’t save. Gaerel said every young healer faces a fever like that. Too many, far too many friends gone.”

  A sob caught in Hardt’s throat for all the friends he’d lost not to fever but to ignorance and fear. But he swallowed it back and firmly pulled Calien out of his embrace, knowing she was aware of where he’d been for the past sixty-eight frseason, and reminded her, “I know what it is to lose too many friends.”

  Immediately her face blanched as she realized her insensitivity. “I’m sorry, Hardt. I had six when you left. There is a lot of lifetime we’ll have to fill each other in on.”

  “But first,” Venoah interrupted, “let’s feed the man.”

  “We have st
ew and bread and cheese.” Ker told Mobious quietly as they were led to the smoky cookhouse. “But we can easily fetch you some raw meat from the cold house or I could send a hunter out.”

  Trying not to take offense, Mobious smiled as if the man had been joking. “I can eat what you eat.” Ker blushed, embarrassed, so Mobious added, “except pumpkin.”

  Over lunch Calien overwhelmed Hardt with tales of what had happened to people he had known. Her joy at his return had not diminished a wit despite her earlier faux pas and she had as much enthusiasm and breath as he remembered her having at six. The difference between she and Hundred, who was a full six season younger, was heartbreaking. Calien told Hardt that she had begun studying healing as soon as she was able to wander about without an adult watching and had pretty much lived with Gaerel and Kalina from her fifty-seventh season until after the fever of 124 when she’d moved back home to help her father raise Firth’s daughter, a brilliant little girl who had been born to one of the roaming guarde sent from Kahago to help, but the woman, Calien wasn’t naming names, had left the child behind when she returned north, both of her own parents’ deaths leaving her with no reason to remain in the shale. Still the daughter, Liecia, had thrived under Calien’s care and grew up to bond with Stagree which was how Calien came to be living at Vyck’s cottage which, as Vyck and Getek had taken in so many orphans during the fever, had grown to a compound twice the size of this one. Her family’s cottage was small but empty, by the way, if he and Mobious were looking to stay long.

  Mobious sat in awe. Never had he seen anyone talk so long or so quickly, not even Nahni. His grasp of lander wasn’t strong enough to keep up with her but each time Calien looked at him he nodded or smiled and that seemed to be enough for her. Hundred, seated in a cushioned chair at his elbow, laid a hand on his arm and turned his attention to the small writing box she had on the table. Her words were abbreviated in a kind of shorthand so it took him a few moments to recognize that she’d written, “Eat. She doesn’t need you to breathe for her.”

  He laughed and took a few welcome sips of the soup before he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “She’s speaking so fast I don’t even know what she’s saying.”

  He shoveled more food into his mouth as she wrote and found the platter of bread and cheese set down in front of him as soon as he’d finished what was on his plate but when he turned to thank the thoughtful server, they were already gone.

  “She’s giving him my entire family’s development since he left, though all he cares about, I’m guessing, is Vyck. Did you catch her offer her family’s abandoned cottage to him? She forgets, he has a home here.”

  “Is there room at Vyck’s?” Mobious was enjoying the conversation. While Hundred wrote, he could eat and look around at the crowd of friendly strangers and nod encouragingly at Calien. Also he found that though Hundred had no voice, she had a bright wit and joy for life that Calien, with all her noise, lacked. He read, “Stagree will make room for you. Calien can take you there after lunch.”

  She heard his sigh for she scratched out what she’d written almost before he’d read it all and scribbled, “When she stops talking she starts thinking and boy things happen then. She is a very smart woman. You’ll like her.”

  Mobious wondered at this woman. He liked her, couldn’t help himself, but why? All he knew was what Hardt had said she’d been like at four frseason and that she’d been shot by her bond just after giving birth with Sophie’s help. Accidentally shot, he amended to himself, like his dam, dTserra.

  That was it. There was no bitterness or recrimination towards her bond for what he’d done. He’d shot her with a possibly poisoned arrow which took her sight, her speech, and her strength and still she loved him. Hardt had speared his dam and took Sophie’s atchs from her but she had forgiven him and loved him.

  “It was no wonder,” he mused out loud to Hundred, “that Sophie liked you.”

  “Nan ye.” As she wrote, she rubbed his back and before he realized what a bad idea that might be, she’d found the unusual bumps near his shoulderblades where his wing ridges were usually hidden by the weight of his vest. “What?” was all she could manage to write as she subtly smoothed the shirt.

  He took a deep breath and whispered to her, “They’re wing muscles minus the wings.”

  For just a moment she turned her sightless eyes with raised eyebrows in his direction then quickly turned them down at the table as she wrote, “Will you grow wings?”

  “I think I would have by now, if I was going to.”

  She nodded as she cleared the dirt and scratched out, “Anything else I should know?”

  He thought for a moment of some difference which would excite her. “I have gills.”

  Hundred was not impressed. “I’ve heard of landers with vestigial gills too.”

  Hardt reached over and scratched out her writing with his finger as he whispered, “Mine work.”

  She turned back and put her forehead against his, raising her eyebrows at him again with a smile as she wrote, “Want to go swimming?”

  Before he could respond, Hardt stood from the table, taking advantage of one of Calien’s rare breaths. “I do want to hear everything, Calien, but Mobious and I need to go break camp now that we know we’re welcome to stay. We’ve left our things in the swamp.”

  Most of the diners still seated rose as well and Stagree hastily swallowed as he held out a hand to Hardt. “Come to Vyck’s when you’re done. I’ll wait up.”

  Mobious looked down at a tug on his shirt and read silently, “Calien goes to bed early.”

  All was in an uproar back at the camp. A swamplizard had stolen the game the travelers had caught for lunch straight off the fire and Janen, bereft of any other occupation was attempting to assign blame. She would have to be one of the first to leave the camp.

  Hardt calmed things down with Edwarg’s help and after a long conference over the leftover stew and sandwiches Venoah had packed up for them an order of dispersal had been set. Janen and Oyahu would pose as a bonded couple travelling from Weary specifically to help with the castle. They would have with them their three children and all four grandparents. Hardt had suggested they take up residence in Calien’s old family place, but Janen had taken offense to the inference that she couldn’t build her own home and refused. They would circle around, she declared, and arrive from the northeast in a few suns, pick a clear plot of land in the vicinity and start building until somebody noticed.

  Hardt was confident in the ability of each of the remaining six to successfully pass as landers, but three of them, Wayz, Neesch, and Arctege were late quatrecenturians who didn’t look like they were well enough to leave their beds, much less travel across country to settle in a new shale. The women, Wayz and Arctege had been friends their entire lives and settled Hardt’s concern by announcing that they would arrive from their home in the western forest where they’d lived in contented solitude until they realized this past winter that if one died the other would not be able to survive alone. Hardt asked if they were going to present themselves as a bonded couple. Wayz asked him with a sly look if being bonded would prevent them from seducing anyone they might meet in Stray Tor.

  Neesch then was the only serious concern. He had never fully recovered from the illness of the first storm out of the village and though his musical abilities suggested he present himself as a wandering musician, he knew no lander tunes and played no lander instruments. His hands were even too bent to play most of the dTelfur instruments he had brought with him.

  It was Mobious who declared that they would take Neesch with them that night to Vyck’s cottage and figure out his relationship to them later. He hoped Calien might be able to do something about the rattle in his chest and pain in his fingers.

  Edwarg agreed to remain in the encampment until last and then travel in with his bond and her grandfather from, perhaps, a nearshale of Voferen Kahago. He wanted to stay so that if any of the earlier departees got sick in Stray Tor, they’d know
where to find their healer. Truuve, the grandfather-to-be was a skilled trapper so they would not have to worry about food. And Falail, who had occasionally combined forces with Odrine in their archeological/geological efforts, was best qualified to return the swamp to its pre-encampment state.

  By moonrise, everyone was nervous but satisfied with the arrangements and so Mobious, Hardt, and Neesch packed up their few belongings, said good-byes to their friends, and headed back in, by the roundabout route, to Stray Tor.

  The bondstar was nearly setting by the time they arrived, but Stagree was true to his word and the trio found him sitting in a comfy rocking chair next to the summer hearth which was the only thing in the clearing that was as Hardt remembered it. The hearth was surrounded by a circle of cottages. There were seven clearly visible, but additions jutting out behind and beside each, made it difficult to isolate them as Hardt looked around trying to figure out which was the one room house he’d grown up in.

  Stagree struggled out of the rocking chair to greet them, but he was cradling a tiny baby in his arms. It took him longer to stand than the lovely young woman sitting next to him. She had bright green eyes and thick, dark, curly hair which matched the tangled mass of curls on the baby’s head. Standing, she was nearly as tall as Hardt and nearly more gaunt than Mobious. Her smile, though, was familiar.

  “Hardt, Mobious, welcome home.” Stagree nodded pleasantly at Neesch, mentally noting any differences in the man’s appearance from normal landers and then turned to introduce them to the woman. “This stubborn young woman refused to go to bed until she’d met you. Her son,” he bounced the sleeping baby in his arms, “is less enthusiastic.”

  “Hi, Hardt. It really is so exciting to meet you.” The woman stepped up and put an awkward palm forward, clearly wanting to hug him instead. “I’m Jaythree.

  Jaythree was one of the rare Strayers who were told the whole tale of Hardt’s return. She and her son, Tor, moved out of Vyck’s cottage in deference to Hardt, but their little room was located just a few steps away so they could be available in any emergency, though Mobious had wondered how much help Tor could be. As it turned out, Jaythree proved herself most helpful in daily non-emergencies and Tor, young as he was, provided a perfect distraction for Neesch. The kid was a wild one but when Neesch started singing, he would crawl up into the old man’s lap and sit calmly, respectfully until the final cadence and then insistently try to learn the funny sounds. It kept Neesch still, which was what Calien had ordered, and it kept Tor out of everyone else’s hair.