Well, that was something. The technology, the talking dragon bones and even the strange seed. I wanted answers to all of it, but I knew I wouldn't get them here. The mysteries would have to wait. There wasn't anything I could do about them in my present situation. I just had to continue with my original plan.
My only choice was to continue my journey. I needed a place to get my bearings and to rest. Bramblehold was best and maybe my only option. I would head back to the road and travel east, as Old Nan had said. I slung my pack with the seed over my back. It was surprisingly light, and I could feel and see a flow of energy around it. I hadn't honed my new ability well enough to tell if it was emitting energy or absorbing it. And I wasn't sure it even mattered.
I took a few steps and felt the heaviness in my legs. They still hadn't recovered fully from my fall getting the Ellieve. I would need a walking stick if I were to make it to Bramblehold. It needed to be straight and about my height. It also needed to support my weight. I searched the gravelly ground and found a possible candidate. Straight, large enough, and the weight was balanced. It would also make a good makeshift weapon if needs be. I had considered attaching my knife to build a makeshift spear, but I didn't have the resources required to secure it.
The knife itself gave off a strange sensation. I don't know what I did to it, but I could feel that it had changed. I used it to whittle a point to the walking stick, turning it into a passable spear. My strokes were met with no resistance. The knife was sharp, sharper than was natural. With my stick in hand, I slowly started my trek to Bramblehold.
The walk took days of toil. Slowly moving on the edge of the road, hiding in the trees at the first sign of monsters. I had used the walking stick a few times to scare off smaller monsters. I tried to hunt for food but had no luck. My skills with a spear were limited, and the creatures were too fast. But otherwise, the trek had been exhausting but uneventful.
On the morning of the fifth day since I left the cave, I hobbled over a small hill, and Bramblehold revealed itself in all its glory. It was not what I had been expecting.
I looked down at a cluster of huts crowning a hill, ringed by a defensive berm. Their thatched roofs sagged under the weight of age. There couldn't have been more than 200 people within the village.
I stopped and stared. This was it?
The village of the free halflings. The place where lives were supposed to begin after slavery ended. It looked more like a waiting pen at the butchers. I wondered how they stayed safe from the local monsters. The berm didn't look that sturdy, and I couldn't see any guards or watchmen.
I walked into town. Leaning on my stick when I needed to. Most of the figures moving between the huts were bent with age. They took slow steps. Everything happened in slow motion. A few paused when they saw me. They stared for a moment before hurrying as best as they could to their huts.
I knew I was taller than most, and broader in the shoulders, but I wasn't trying to scare them. I tried to make myself smaller, crouching down a bit, pulling my shoulders forward.
An old woman emerged from one of the larger huts, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. But there was still fire in them. "Boy! Where are you from?" Her voice carried authority. It reminded me a little of Old Nan.
I met her eyes while trying to keep myself small. "My name is Quart. Been told I can find my grandparents here," I tried to project some calm into my voice. I didn't want to scare them.
"Do you know their names?"
"No ma'am, but I know my mother's name was Eleni." I paused.
A man standing near the well turned to stare at me, searching my face as if looking for the truth in my bones.
"And your father?" he asked. I suspected he already knew.
"Lord Querlly. A human."
That was enough for them to believe me. The old woman's eyes paused on me for a moment. Then she pointed to a distant hut. "Third from the end."
I thanked the woman and moved towards the hut. I couldn't help but panic. What if what Dale said was true, that they hated me, and what if they blamed me for their daughter's death? What if they won't even acknowledge my existence?
The hut looked like all the others. A small wooden fence surrounded a vegetable garden. A row of drying herbs hung from the eaves. It was a charming little hut, but it looked a bit quaint for my taste.
I stood before the door and took some deep breaths. I raised my hand and knocked. There was movement from within. Slow and careful.
The door opened a crack, and an old halfling man peered out. His hair was white and thin, his eyes were clear despite the wrinkles around them. I could sense he was sizing me up.
"Yes?" he asked.
"My name is Quart," I said, voice wavering a little. "I am the son of Eleni, and I was told you might be my grandparents."
My statement was met with silence. I couldn't help but think this was a mistake. But then the door opened wider, and an old woman peered around its edge. She was even smaller than the man, her back bent nearly in two. She studied my face for a moment.
"You have her eyes and nose," she said softly. "Come in, come in." She gestured to the table in the middle of the hut.
I stepped inside. The hut was warm with a small fire in the hearth, and the smell of bread and herbs filled the space. It might have been quaint and simple, but it also felt inviting.
My grandmother gestured for me to sit. My grandfather closed the door behind us. I wasn't even sure what I should call them. Pop? Nanna?
I had a hundred questions. Who was my mother? Why did they leave the village? How did I come to be? Did my mother love my father, or was it, as Dale had said, that Father was a weak man with strange tastes?
But the old woman saw the questions forming and cut me off gently. "We have time, there is no need to rush," she said. "I'm sure you have questions, but let's just... let's start with a meal. It looks like you haven't eaten in weeks."
She was right about that. I've had nothing but roots and berries for almost two weeks. The smell and taste of real food couldn't be ignored. I sat down on a simple chair, which was a little small for my frame, and the table was a touch low. It was an odd feeling; I was used to everything being too large.
It started with a polite nibble but ended with my cheeks stuffed with bread and spread.
"Sorry, haven't eaten real food in weeks," I mumbled around my mouthful. They both gave a puzzled look.
"But didn't your father organise a wagon?" asked my grandfather. Letting me know they had been expecting me, maybe that's why they had so much food on hand. I didn't want to darken the mood by reliving the attack in detail, so I gave an abbreviated version of the story. I told them about the boar attack, the challenge of finding Elieve, and my walk here. I didn't want to scare them away by mentioning the monster bait or the strange seed.
We talked for hours before heading to bed. We had avoided any serious conversation. I could tell they had questions, and I had questions, but for today, we're just getting to know each other.
The morning came early in Bramblehold, with the sounds of the rooster crowing and the residents getting about their day. Which made it difficult to sleep in.
The hut was small, but the bed was soft, and the blanket was warm. It was the best sleep I've had since my father's passing. I stretched and waited for the usual protest from my body, but none came. It appeared sleeping in a proper bed was better than in the treetops. A little obvious, I know.
I found a folded set of clothes at the end of the bed. Proper cut for my size. Wider shoulders and neck. Next to them sat a pair of sturdy boots. I picked up the shirt and frowned. This was from my own collection at the keep.
"Madam Melissa had sent a few items," Pop's voice came from the kitchen. We had agreed on some names last night. They preferred to be called Nan and Pop. It turns out that both of my grandparents used to serve Old Nan, or Madam Melissa, as they knew her.
"Quickly, get dressed. We have chores to do," he continued. I guess there was no rest, even for a guest. I guess I wasn't a guest anymore. We exited the hut, and the air was fresh; the scent of cooked sausage and fresh bread lingered.
As we walked to the well for our first chore, the rest of the villagers watched us carefully, most trying to avoid us.
"They're curious," Pop answered the unasked question.
"Because I'm half human?"
"That's part of it, but you're young. Most had to leave their families behind."
"Why?" I asked, maybe naively
"All halflings owe fifty years of service. It's the law," he said.
I blinked. I knew that halflings could be slaves, but I didn't know it was all, and that it was fifty years. I was never taught that. I was told that halflings liked to serve as slaves. It gave them a sense of purpose. I now realise how naïve I had been.
"So everyone here is over fifty?" I asked.
"Yes,"
Bramblehold wasn't a village. It was a home for the unwanted. Those thrown away by their masters for being too old. We reached the well and drew our two buckets of water. I offered to carry both, but Pops wouldn't let me. Pride, I had assumed. Once we returned to the hut, he gathered a rope and some other supplies.
"Come on," he said.
"Where to now?"
"You need to learn how to keep yourself fed."
Now that was something I could get behind.
We walked in silence until the roofs of Bramblehold were hidden from sight. The air changed. The heaviness of the old forest was gone, replaced by crispness that tasted sweet. I could sense the energy in the air. It felt lighter, purer in a sense. Pop had transformed as well. He moved differently. Silent, like a shadow.
"You're walking like a human, Quart. Heavy heels, forceful steps. Thud, Thud, Thud. To the forest, you're a drum. Walk on the balls of your feet. Feel the earth before you trust it"
Time flowed differently in the forest, but we spent most of the morning practising how to move silently, to leave no trace.
"We don't have the strength of the other races. A man with a bow can wait for the beast to show. A Mage can use magic to take it down from a distance. We can't draw that string, and we can't cast that spell." He looked regretful, explaining the limitations of halflings.
He continued, "But Quart, we are quieter, we are stealthier, we are trickier. Our way is that of snares, deadfalls, traps."
The next few days were spent in the forest, focusing on tracking small game and finding ideal locations to place traps. The proper way to break down a rabbit. The sun was low when we returned to Bramblehold. It had been almost three weeks since I arrived, and it was only as we were returning to the village with our game bag full that I realised we hadn't run into any monsters. It was something I questioned when I first arrived. There had to be some secret.
"Pop," I said, as I slowed down a bit. "Why are there no monsters in this forest?" I asked.
"Easier to show you," he replied.
He gestured for me to follow him. We didn't go back towards the village, but further into the forest. This was a part we hadn't been to before. It was silent. Too silent in a way, there were no bird noises, no insect noises. Then we came across a small clearing.
Within the clearing stood a stone totem rising from the ground. The structure was easily three, maybe almost four times my height. The stone was smooth in a way that couldn't be explained by just carving it. My eyes were immediately drawn to the gemstones. The same as the ones that have been on the dragon bones. I could clearly see the energy that connected them. It was stronger and more purposeful than the dragon. The energy weaved a complex, multicoloured mesh around the gemstones.
"This here is our monster barrier totem. It keeps the monsters away. How it works, we don't know." He looked at the totem with awe. "Every few years, we hire human mages to perform a ritual to feed it. They might know more."
I was drawn to it, I needed to touch it, I could feel the seed wanted to get closer, a large thread of energy weaved its way from the totem towards the seed. They became connected but only for a second.
But that second was too long. The seed was hungry. It drank deeply, absorbing the energy. The threads around the totem had become thinner. Even my grandfather sensed the change.
"What did you do? " he asked angrily, his face red and his eyes filled with rage.
"I don't know," I said truthfully. I had no idea what the seed had done, or why.
He looked at the totem, and looked back at me and then back at the totem.
"I will speak to the elders," he replied slowly. I could sense the mistrust in his voice. Three weeks of bonding, undone within seconds. All thanks to a strange seed.