Homeward (Ch. 1)

[Serial] In a world ruled by dragons, three brothers return home after receiving a call to adventure.

Jonas Boyle pondered the mysteries of time while dragons flew over the capital. Their saurian shadows darkened its roads, and the old belfries moaned when they perched to watch the traffic pass.

As his middle years marched on, so too had his preoccupation with time. An eccentric guest at his inn once said time was man’s invention, no different from the plow handle or wagon wheel. He’d claimed the only reason we remembered the past but not the future—or that we could change the future but not the past—was because time’s inventors had built it to point in that direction.

Jonas saw the appeal to that notion now. He’d turned it in his mind ever since the day his three boys left the Grove. They craved their own adventures, Jonas knew, but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking when they left. If he could steer time like a wheel, then he’d live forever in his happiest days while his boys ventured off in search of their own.

Jonas pushed the thought aside as he dismounted, calloused fingers brushing the amulet around his neck. It was a long trip from Oslo’s Grove to Dragon City both ways, and Jonas Boyle had no intention of returning poorer for it.

He visited the temple district first to make offerings, a Silver’s temple for a year of good health and a Bronze for safety on the roads. The monks would dump his quartz and amethyst in the communal collection plates, so Jonas’s offerings would lie among a hundred others before the wyrms ever saw them.

He’d stopped expecting favors from dragons long ago—and, in truth, no longer put much stock in their divinity. But ever since little Aust joined the clergy, Jonas had gone back to making all the motions of the faithful.

Relieved of his alms, he turned down Market Street and swung open the doors to Rinaldi’s Attic. The gnomish proprietor examined a druidic staff carved from a treant branch. The gold flecks in his eye grew bulbous through his magnifying monocle.

Jonas busied himself examining books and curios while he waited for the ever-preoccupied gnome to notice him. Few relics he’d sold last year still occupied the shelves, an observation which brought Jonas no small measure of pride.

Travelers lugged all manner of oddities through his inn, and most were content to accept a few coins or a free room to lighten their load. Being a spot more worldly than his guests, he often recouped his investments tenfold after his annual journeys to Rinaldi’s Attic.

“Welcome to the Attic,” the gnome said, still fiddling with his staff. “Should any of our artifacts catch your eye, please refer to the catalogue up front with certificates of identification and prices—all of which, I’m afraid, are non-negotiable.”

Jonas performed his best impression of the highfaluting antique collectors who frequented the Attic. “Non-negotiable? I heard you markup these baubles double what you pay that bumpkin who brings them in.”

The gnome lost balance upon recognizing his old friend. “Red’s breath, you’re not due for another fortnight. Did you arrive ahead of time just to give me a heart attack?”

Jonas laughed at Rinaldi’s phrasing. Ahead of time. He’d never felt so behind time in his life. It carried him along like a riding mount, sometimes flying like a pegasus and others, dragging like a tired mule.

Rinaldi furrowed his purple brows. “Did I say something funny?”

“Just remembering an old joke.” Jonas hefted his pack on Rinaldi’s counter and cocked his head to the branch staff on the examination table. “What’s that you got there?”

“Shamanic totem. Dark elf. It reflects the charms of river naiads.” The gnome cupped the staff in his velveteen gloves and returned it to its display case. “Care to make an offer? Maybe you could catch a fey woman to sing in your inn. If memory serves, a pod migrates up the Tidus near your neck of the woods come winter.”

The thought of imprisoning such a creature for entertainment curdled Jonas’s stomach. “I’ve had dealings with those river ladies. My oldest, Ryld, adopted quite a dangerous fondness for one upon gaining an interest in the fairer sex. Suppose he found farm girls too plain. Once, I caught him stealing a canoe from…”

Jonas glanced at the counter to realize he’d lost Rinaldi’s attention. Stories about the boys weren’t half as entertaining to other folks as Jonas found them. The eager gnome pawed through his pack, removing the ancient pewter tableware, primitive totems, and arcane scrolls, one eye fixed on the finds through his magnifier and another cross referencing a weighty tome.

Rinaldi worked with intense focus. Before the hour passed, he’d have catalogued each item’s value, history, and meticulously documented any magical properties.

Leaving the gnome to his work, Jonas ambled toward the public notice board. The official documents wouldn’t offer much insight into the capital’s actual state of affairs once they passed through the imperial censors, but they might offering some context to the talk Jonas would overhear among the local eateries.

One notice caught his eye. A bounty poster promising ten thousand golden coins for the capture of a halfling named Horace Bartleby. Wanted for burglary. Last seen fleeing the capital south along the River Tidus.

“Ten thousand drakes for a burglar.” Jonas clicked his tongue. “Did old Chief Rex take a blow to the head? Most murderers have lower bounties.”

“Not so shocking. They spotted him prowling on the wrong side of the Gates of Heaven.”

Jonas nodded. The Gates once stood as an impassable bulwark, parting society’s better half from its lesser one. But nowadays, its sagging mortar offered all the fortification of waddle and daub. Some parts could be scaled by any man with a ladder—or even an orc with a tall stool.

Yet the divide remained as steadfast in the capital citizens’ minds as the day they were built, in no small part because of bounties like this one. The empire’s favored nobles occupied a holy status second only to the dragons themselves. Even petty crimes levied against them commanded death sentences.

“Been a while since some fool had the stones to break into Heaven,” Jonas said.

“Little bugger will probably escape, too. Heard he disembarked near Oslo’s Grove. Those hinterlands are so crammed with ruins, even you locals can’t find your way around.”

“Oslo’s Grove,” Jonas whispered. “You don’t say.”

Rinaldi snickered. “Is the old innkeeper considering taking up bounty hunting?”

“I just know some folks who might be interested.”

Maybe the boys’ craving for adventure and his own yearning for their company weren’t so incompatible. Many a fallen civilization rested beneath the Grove’s roots. The unspoiled ruins were full of profit, as Jonas’s trips to Rinaldi’s Attic showed. It could be the perfect place for some new adventurers to cut their teeth. Chasing a fat bounty might be his chance to show them what their home could offer.

“You can hire your own crew to hunt him down after this trip.” Rinaldi pointed to Jonas’s haul. “Most of this is your usual assortment of odds and ends, but those dishes are Elder era. They’ll incite a bidding war in Heaven with my connections. I’ll give you five hundred drakes for the lot.”

“Actually, there was one more thing.” Jonas removed slid his amulet across the counter.

Rinaldi glanced through his magnifier. “A hearth gem. Elven commanders used them to call their soldiers to re-garrison. A neat piece of arcanum. Not worth much, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t plan on selling it. I wanted to see if it still works.”

“I can tune it, but it won’t do anything except make other gems it’s paired with glow. Wherever they may be.”

Jonas gestured for the gnome to proceed. Rinaldi refilled the amulet’s arcane energy with a device shaped like a tuning fork. When he rubbed the gem, it glowed through his fingers like a fistful of fireflies.

Invisible trails of magic swirled outward, snaking across the Empire toward the matching gems each of Jonas’s boys carried. He’d told them what the signal meant before they’d set off. Eager to depart, they had all promised to return if their hearth gems ever glowed.

But that was years ago. Whether any of the boys still carried their gems or whether they’d answer their old man’s call to adventure—well, only time would tell.

Next Chapter