Page 3 of An Arrow to the Heart

Sylvie’s mouth gaped at her friend’s insinuation, before picking up the nearest object that just so happened to be a carrot and flinging it at her.

“Oh what? Why don’t the two of you just make it official? Everybody knows you’re fucking.”

“Um, first of all, everybody needs to mind their own damn business, and second of all, it’s not like that. It’s merely a bit of fun every now and again, not that we even have recently. Neither of us want more, and as for yesterday, I was genuinely looking lumber. I need to build an extension to the goat house,” Sylvie said. It was true that they’d had sex in the past when the mood struck them both but it had never been more than that. Just a mutual agreement to blow off steam. It’s not as though the village was full of options in that regard so it was a deal that had worked for them both. Not that they had slept together recently, Sylvie hadn’t lied about that, and she truly was only at the mill seeking lumber.

“I’m sure Torban would be more than capable of helping there too,” she snickered.

“Oh give it a rest Valeska, I don’t want more from Torban, besides I’m more than content with my life the way it is. You just think everybody needs a partner because you have two.”

“Hmm,” Valeska mused, “You’re right. I do. I’d honestly recommend it,” Valeska said and they both fell into laughter.

After they had calmed from their laughter, in an attempt to change the subject away from her love life, Sylvie asked, “so how’s the new barmaid working out? Seraphine, is it?” She’d heard about Seraphine, the mysterious elven barmaid who’d recently come to live here but she was yet to meet her.

“You know, she’s great actually, means there’s less pressure on me to be out front and I can just hang out back here more,” Valeska said, before adding, “and yeah it’s Seraphine but she goes by Sera, I hope she sticks around.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sylvie said, picking up an apple, “you’ve been burning the candle at both ends for too long, the Alehouse seems busier than ever.”

Valeska nodded her agreement, “it’s doing better than we could have ever imagined and with the upcoming festival in the autumn, I’m glad to have an extra pair of capable hands.”

“Well, just don’t go torturing her for details on her love life and she might just stick around,” Sylvie said, before taking a bite of the apple and the two of them relaxed into an afternoon of gossip.

CHAPTER THREE

-Ardál-

The grass-licked mountains towered over Ardál, their jagged peaks disappearing into wandering wisps of white, the emerald canopy of ancient trees all around him. The path took him right through the heart of the forest, barely wide enough for a small wagon. The sound of unseen forest creatures whispered through the towering pines, and wildflowers of red, yellows and orange lined the edge of the path as sunbeams filtered through the treetops, dappling the forest floor with pools of golden warmth. Ardál took a deep breath, relishing in the clear forest air. The scent of pine and earthy moss filling his lungs.

It was a pleasant late summer afternoon, Ardál had been travelling through this particular mountain range for the past two weeks. It had been nine days since he last saw any signs of civilization, he looked to Phelan as he said, “I don’t know about you but I sure hope we come across a village soon. I wouldn’t mind a warm bed for the night and some conversation. Not that I’m not enthralled with our conversations, just that I wouldn’t mind talking with someone who understands my jokes.”

Rather than paying his owner much attention Phelan’s eyes darted to the skies, the gentle breeze brushing his marble-grey shaggy fur. Following his companion’s gaze, Ardál’s breath caught in his chest as he realised what had caught Phelan’s attention.

There, in the distance, was a winged creature dipping in and out of the clouds. The creature unfurled its wings, catching the sunlight on the expanse of them, displaying its shimmering scales of a bright silvery blue with otherworldly lustre. Each beat of its mammoth wings sent ripples through the cotton-like expanse, leaving a trail of awe. Even though the creature was some distance away, Ardál had no doubt in his mind that the creature was a dragon.

“I guess it’s true what they all say about these mountains,” he said with a smile he couldn’t hide.

He’d been unsure whether to take this particular route through the mountain range as it was rather steep at parts and thus far wholly void of folk. But he’d heard the stories of huge dragons in these parts and well, the adventurer he was, he wasn’t able to resist such a promise.

Not even two hours had passed before the scattering of white clouds had been replaced by a thick blanket of grey clouds, blocking the setting sun. Ardál and Phelan lumbered up the mountain path aiming their steps toward the looming twin peaks ahead. Then, without much warning, the heavens opened up and unleashed a sheet of unrelenting rain, drenching them instantly.

The rain was lashing from the skies in a sideways motion thanks to the high winds which meant little reprieve for Ardál. His bones began to ache and each step became more laboured, he was completely soaked through and he prayed that his camp supplies remained dry within his backpack.

Phelan didn’t seem to mind the rain though, nor the cold. He was tough like that, phased by nothing, a true survivor. It was something that had often given Ardál pause for thought as the animal clearly didn’t truly rely on him. Of course he was prone to snacks, particularly bacon, but then who would say no to bacon. He surmised that the dog must have grown fond of him just as he had of him.

Whatever the reason, they had been travelling together for three years now and Ardál was glad of it. In fact, he considered Phelan his best friend.

Fortuitously, the rain began to ease off as quickly as it had arrived and they made their way upwards towards a fork in the road. A rickety wooden signpost with the words ‘Wyrmwind’ pointed them to the right.

The air thickened with the scent of wood smoke as Ardál and Phelan followed the dirt path that gave way to the cobblestone streets and Ardál’s eyes fell upon a quaint little village within the break in the trees. He thanked the Gods above, for the timing couldn't be better. The uneven rounded stones were a welcome change beneath his leather boots and they led him into the heart of the little community. A mix of timber-framed houses and stone cottages lined either side of the street, yellow candlelight spilling from every window.

The aroma of roasted meat and some type of stew caught his attention and he followed his nose and he soon found himself before the largest building in the village, built beautifully out of wood, with lilac shutters and ornate carvings etched in the door and window frames. Window boxes overflowed in a sea of greens, purples and pinks. The sign read, ‘The Old Oak Alehouse’ with a smaller sign that had clearly been added at a later stage that read simply ‘& Lodging’.

Perfect.

Ardál wasted no time and pushed on the large oak door, making his way into the Alehouse, Phelan at his heel. He was promptly greeted by the sound of snippets of conversation and laughter beneath the songs of a bard, the heat of a roaring fire, and more importantly, that familiar succulent mouth-watering smell that had led him there. It was a welcome refuge.

He was surprised at the number of people in the Alehouse. He hadn’t come across anyone on his way into the village but there were at least two dozen folk flocked in the Alehouse. Wooden beams overhead, a scattering of tables filled the space with patrons huddled together enjoying each other’s company after a long day. To his right lay a long sturdy wooden bar, shelves lining the wall behind it adorned with tankards and bottles of all sorts. Giant barrels of ale and wine at their feet.

Ardál’s grin widened as he approached the bar, where he was met by an intimidating orc, “what will it be, friend?” The male said, before Ardál could so much as get a word out. He must have been at least seven foot tall, with broad shoulders and gave an aura as someone who had seen their fair share of battle. He was direct but definitely not unfriendly.