Heartgem Homestead

by Edmund Hughes

  “Enough!” shouted Hal. “Stop this! If you want to leave, I’ll let you go. I won’t take the command bracers off, but I won’t stop you from going your own way, either.”

  “You think this a mercy?” asked Zoria. “Do you have any idea how tarnished my reputation already is, and now… this? To live with bracers of enslavement on my wrists, for the rest of my time? For a pathetic, weak, ignorant surfacer to take pity on me?”

  Hal still had her wrists pinned. He brought his face in closer to hers, and though he couldn’t see her expression in the dark, he could sense her fury.

  “This pathetic surfacer just beat you in a fight,” said Hal. “I might be weak. I might be ignorant. But I’ve got you pinned.”

  Zoria let out a single, mocking laugh, but there was no spirit in it. She glanced away, and then looked back toward him. Tension hung on the air, from more than just the arguing and fighting.

  She kissed him, and Hal kissed her back. In that instant, his fighting instincts switched to primal lust as smoothly as a rider might switch from one horse to another. He was pressing into her, still pinning her arms, but for new, exciting reasons.

  Zoria was aggressive. She wrapped her legs around Hal and bucked her hips into him. Hal let go of her wrists, and she instantly reached for his pants, undoing his belt and tossing it, along with his empty scabbard, aside.

  She was still wearing her borrowed, ill-fitting tunic. Hal reached underneath it, sliding a finger along her folds. She was already wet, and he wondered if it was the kiss that had turned her on, or the fighting.

  “You waste time,” she hissed, her hips grinding into his crotch. “If you’re going to take me, you best do it while you have the chance.”

  She kissed him again, pushing her tongue into his mouth, trying to flip Hal underneath her as she did. He felt a growl escape his lips and pinned her again, unwilling to let her take control both for the sake of his suspicions and other, more primal reasons.

  Hal discarded his pants. He was already hard, and as he pressed himself forward, sliding his erection between her thighs, he realized something. Zoria was far, far tighter than he’d been expecting. Even the tip of his cock seemed reluctant to slide into her, though she was already aroused and wet.

  He slowly eased his shaft in, taking his time even as lust demanded him to thrust hard. Zoria made a tiny squealing noise, half pain and half pleasure. Hal stopped as soon as the head of his erection was completely sheathed, bringing his face in close to hers and teasing her neck with his lips.

  “Surface… savage,” muttered Zoria, her voice a mixture of moaning and words.

  “I’m the first surfacer you’ve been with,” whispered Hal. “Aren’t I?”

  He pushed in a little further, the sensation of her hot tightness sending waves of pleasure dancing through him. Zoria inhaled sharply and buried her head against his shoulder for an instant before pulling back.

  “Elven women… do not disgrace themselves… with… with…”

  “With what?” asked Hal. He pushed his tool deeper in and heard Zoria squeal as her body shivered with pleasure.

  Hal began thrusting slowly, taking his time more for her sake, than his own. Zoria’s hole was so tight that he was afraid if he made any sudden angular movements, he might injure his manhood. It gripped his cock, squeezing in time with Zoria’s shivers and squeals and holding him in place.

  “I am… no slave, cattle,” moaned Zoria. “You would… do well… to remember…”

  Hal thrust into her a little harder, feeling Zoria’s fingernails attempting to dig into his back as he did. He freed one of her breasts from her tunic and let his tongue run over her nipple.

  “You’re not a slave,” he agreed. “But I am your master.”

  He started moving faster, pumping into her and focusing on liberating his own pleasure from her tight, hot hole. Zoria was past the point of being able to put words together, even for dirty bedchamber talk. She moaned, her body seizing as intense orgasms rippled through her.

  Hal let his pace build until he was slamming into the small elf, using her body for all it was worth. He kissed her neck and her lips. Zoria was too drunk on pleasure to make more than the barest effort of kissing back.

  He squeezed her breasts together as he found his own release, thrusting his cock as deep as it would go. There was barely room left inside her for Hal’s seed, and it overflowed onto Zoria’s thighs and the fabric of the borrowed tunic.

  CHAPTER 36

  The pleasure of Hal’s climax was overshadowed by the sudden intensity of his guilt. Yes, she’d led him into a trap, and attempted to enslave him for her own purposes. But could he really blame her for that? Certainly, she could blame him for taking advantage of her circumstances, if she so decided.

  I can’t take the command bracers off her. But that doesn’t mean I need to keep her prisoner.

  “Zoria,” he said. “I meant my words before. You’re free to leave if you so choose. I can’t take the bracers off you, but I won’t stop you from heading off on your own.”

  Zoria was still lying on the grass. She lifted herself up onto her elbows and looked at him.

  “Master,” she said, in a mocking tone. “But wherever would I go?”

  “I’m serious,” said Hal. “And I’m not making it as an offer. This is an ultimatum. If you decide to stay in the homestead, I need to know you aren’t planning on attempting to stab me in the back again.”

  Zoria stood up and drew near to him.

  “You’ve made your point, surfacer,” she said, bitterly. “I will have these bracers off. But perhaps… a change in my tactics is due.”

  Hal nodded slowly.

  “If you behave, I’ll take the bracers off eventually,” said Hal. “Probably sooner, rather than later. I just need to trust that I won’t be putting Laurel or myself in danger.”

  “Understandable,” said Zoria. “I will take you at your word. Though what the word of cattle is truly worth, only time will tell.”

  Hal pulled his clothes back on and found his sword. Zoria watched him doing all of it, and he noticed a subtle change in her manner. It wasn’t respect, but rather, an appreciative curiosity, as though she was suddenly viewing Hal from a different angle.

  “Come on,” he said. “There should still be some food left. Laurel cooked plenty.”

  “After you, master,” said Zoria.

  “Don’t call me that,” said Hal.

  She stepped in closer to him, almost putting her body in direct contact.

  “Master,” she said, drawing out each syllable. She was mocking him, but there was still something playful in her tone of voice, as though she’d discovered a new way to make light of her circumstances.

  The windows of the homestead were still illuminated by a warm, orange glow, and the soft music of a wind instrument drifted out on the night breeze. Hal opened the front door, bracing for more conflict. Laurel was sitting at the table, her focus on playing her flute.

  “I found her,” said Hal.

  Laurel rose wordlessly and filled another bowl with vegetable stew. Zoria entered the sitting room without saying anything. She sniffed the air, and the frown on her face faded as Laurel passed her the food.

  “…Thank you,” said Zoria.

  Hal raised an eyebrow.

  Has she ever thanked anyone before? Ever?

  “You were gone for longer than I expected,” said Laurel.

  Hal shrugged.

  “I... had to come to an understanding with her,” he said.

  Laurel turned her gaze to Zoria, who was devouring the food she’d been given. She paused in between mouthfuls and met Laurel’s eyes. Hal could tell she was struggling to keep her pride reigned in.

  “I mean you no harm, surfacer,” said Zoria. “I will respect Halrin’s authority, and yours through it. For the time being.”

  Her lips turned up into a small smirk. Laurel scowled at her, and Hal had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and let the two women work
their differences out on their own.

  “We’ll be headed to Lorne tomorrow,” said Laurel. “For the Summer Equinox Festival. I can’t leave you here alone, Zoria, so you’ll have to come with us.”

  Zoria shrugged. Laurel shot Halrin a look, and he slowly nodded, knowing that bringing the elf into town would entail more than Zoria realized she was agreeing to.

  ***

  Hal waited outside by the wagon the next morning, scratching Toothy behind one ear. The sky was clear, and even though it was early morning, the sun was already giving off an intense, summer heat.

  Laurel came out of the homestead with a broad, dimpled smile on her face. She wore a blue dress with puffy fabric around the shoulders and a low neckline. She’d woven her hair into a neat braid which fell across one of her shoulders, and seemed to enjoy the expression on Hal’s face as he looked at her. She curtsied in his direction and stepped aside, gesturing to the door.

  Zoria followed out after her, almost unrecognizable. Laurel had used a hairband to pin the elf’s pointed ears down underneath her hair, and then dressed Zoria in a slightly shabbier dress that was smaller and older than her own.

  In fact, Zoria looked like nothing so much as a young girl, perhaps one still used to playing rough and tumble with the boys. Even the irritated scowl on her face looked more like the sullen expression of a youth forced into chores or a boring, formal gathering.

  “Wow,” said Hal. “And here I was, thinking this festival was more of a casual affair.”

  He was wearing his original clothes, the outfit he’d been wearing when he’d first been carried off by the dragon. Laurel had mended most of the holes with thread, patching the ones too large to close easily. The once stately garments were now somewhat tattered, though he still felt comfortable in them.

  “It’s different for ladies,” said Laurel. “And I’m the daughter of a minor lord, in case you forgot.”

  Oh yeah. I did forget about that.

  He put on his most dashing smile and hurried over to her, extending his arm for her to take as she came down the porch steps.

  “Milady,” said Hal.

  “Why thank you, Halrin.”

  Hal and Laurel rode on Toothy’s back, while Zoria made due in the wagon along with the food and apple wine they brought for their donation to the festival. They left some of the extra food behind, not wanting to overburden the poor animal. Still the extra weight caused them to travel more slowly than they had on Hal’s first trip out with Laurel.

  It was nearly midday when Lorne finally came into view on the horizon. The town looked as active as Hal had seen it, granted that he’d only been there once before. People moved about, some carrying wood toward a massive fire pit in the center of town, others carrying tables and chairs out of the inn to set up on the sand.

  “This is your town?” asked Zoria. “Pathetic. It’s just a bunch of desert hovels.”

  “Hey!” said Laurel. “It might not seem impressive from a distance, but Lorne has its own beauty and charm. Right, Hal?”

  Hal shrugged, unable to keep a smile from sneaking onto his face.

  I pretty much thought the same thing when I first saw it…

  Meridon was busy directing the action outside his inn. Laurel pulled Toothy and the wagon right up to him, grinning at his reaction to the food and wine.

  “Lady Laurel!” said Meridon. “Fine time for you to be riding into town. We were just about to start the cooking.”

  “Perfect,” said Laurel. She and Hal dismounted, and Zoria climbed out of the wagon to stand with them. Meridon frowned when he saw Hal.

  “I see you’re still harboring that mystery lad,” said Meridon, disdain touching his voice. “But well now, who is this?”

  “She’s, uh, a lost child,” said Laurel. “We found her coming down the slope in Fool’s Valley. She doesn’t speak much.”

  Meridon, big as he was, had to hunch down to speak to Zoria. “You poor thing,” he said. “Well, I’ll make sure there are some sweetcakes set aside for you special, little lady.”

  Zoria scowled at him. With her ears pinned down, the expression looked cute, rather than threatening. Meridon let out a booming laugh, and Hal couldn’t resist joining in with a chuckle or two.

  “Now,” said Meridon, addressing both Hal and Zoria. “The two of you should know that everyone helps out during the Summer Equinox. I can use you in the kitchen, little lady. As you for you, Halrin, you’d best find a way to make yourself right useful.”

  With that, Meridon turned to head back inside the inn. Laurel followed him, pulling a furious looking Zoria along by the arm. Hal unhitched Toothy from the wagon and brought him to the town’s stables before wandering off on his own.

  CHAPTER 37

  Hal went first to Cadrian’s house. He remembered what she’d said about not being around for a while after her last visit, but wondered if maybe he’d be able to catch her before she left.

  The door opened, but the dark and the silence on the other side of it told Hal that it was empty without needing to call out. He was about to leave when he noticed the canvas sitting on the easel across the room, Cadrian’s latest painting.

  It was of a young girl with pale skin, rosy cheeks, jet black hair, and Cadrian’s features. Hal couldn’t take his eyes off it. The girl was perhaps four or five years old, and painted with such detail that it made Hal wonder how Cadrian wasn’t wealthy from her art.

  He walked up to the canvas, feeling tempted to reach out and touch it. He didn’t, but he did let himself stare. Unexpected emotions welled up in his chest as he thought about the time that Cadrian must have spent on the piece. What would Hal have given for a painting of Lilith, done in this style? Preserving her visage perfectly on canvas, for him to look at whenever he wanted.

  It’s too late now. Does anyone even remember what Lilith looks like, other than me? Do I still remember perfectly?

  It took several deep breaths to cut the painful line of thinking off. Surprisingly, looking at the painting helped. He thought of Cadrian again, and suddenly noticed that his emotions weren’t just for his lost sister.

  Did Cadrian have a lost daughter? Was she still alive, and just out of reach, or had she suffered an even worse trauma than Hal’s own? He found himself wishing she was there with him, and wanting to be closer to her, physically and emotionally. He’d shared so much with Cadrian, and had been too distracted by his own issues to truly let himself know her as a person.

  Or maybe the painting was of Cadrian, herself? It was possible. The girl had all her features. Hal knew that he wouldn’t be able to ask her without revealing that he’d intruded on her privacy, and that made the question seem that much more fascinating.

  He spent several minutes in Cadrian’s house. The longer he looked at the painting, the more he felt his emotions burning for the woman behind it. When he finally left, he carried with him a longing that hadn’t been there before, and felt it teasing him with every beat of his heart.

  Hal walked down one of Lorne’s few side roads, trying to clear his head. He heard music, a fiddle, and followed it until he found Vrodas and Theron behind one of the buildings on the edge of town. Theron was playing the same short snippet of steady rhythm repeatedly, while Vrodas attempted a complicated series of choreographed movements to match it.

  “You have to sweep your leg out further if you want to hit that spin,” said Hal, noticing a small flaw in the ogre’s execution.

  Vrodas turned to look at him and a broad smile of recognition instantly spread across his face.

  “Halrin, right?” he said. “My apologies. I was sloshing drunk on the night we met. It was a dark night of the soul, that one. But I do seem to recall someone by your name and appearance jumping onto stage to flow across from me with the Kye Lornis.”

  Hal chuckled.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It was fun. I don’t get to do that often enough anymore.”

  “Why not make it a time more often, then?” asked Vrodas. “We could us
e a third performer for our act. With time to prepare, we could impress the crowd even more!”

  And so, Hal joined in with their rehearsal. Vrodas already had a short routine worked out. He taught to Hal slowly, the two of them making adjustments for the sections where the ogre’s extra arms were required for a transition or acrobatic stall.

  Theron impressed Hal with his patience, saying little and providing them with whatever section of the song they needed for a specific series of movements. Hal worked a sweat practicing the routine, and loved every second of it.

  Vrodas is even better at matching my movements than Mauve was.

  The thought instantly made Hal feel guilty, and he missed the musical cue for one of the kicks he and Vrodas had worked into the routine. He took a deep breath, missing Mauve fiercely. How long had it been since that horrible night? Since the dancing and the laughter, and the screams? Hal wasn’t keeping track, and didn’t want to think about it.

  “You seem distracted,” said Vrodas. “Let us break for a minute. We can get some water, take some time to rest.”

  The ogre was massaging the stump where he’d lost a hand and looking slightly pained. Hal nodded, realizing that the break was probably as much a relief for Vrodas as it was for him.

  “Sure,” said Hal. “That sounds good.”

  He felt a slight temptation to ask the maug about his injury, but stopped himself before letting the question come out.

  How would I feel if he asked me a similar question? Some people like talking about their past, and some people don’t.

  They rested for a while, and then returned to their practice. The routine was fairly complex by Hal’s standards, involving several intricate spins, leaps over each other, shoulder spins, and a few handstands. He was determined, however, and they rehearsed it until it was passable, stopping only when the setting sun marked the beginning of the actual festival.