Hamlet Thriving (Black Lake book 2)

Chapter 24
Matilda

~

“Why is it all the new settlers pick the South Shore?” I asked.

Lydia glanced away from little Gladys who played on the contraption Coedwig built her, which sprawled across the lawn. “You should know. Why are you building over here?”

I shivered against a huff of breeze. Smiled at the sight of the serious play of Gladie, as little Gladys is most often called by everyone now. It’s a much easier way to distinguish her from her namesake. The nickname fits even more, since a frown has never touched the girl’s face, ever. She muscled her way atop the “ship’s” crow’s nest.

“She looks like she’s ready to keep up with Kincere’s daytime troupe.”

“I know,” Lydia said. She watched her daughter for a moment quietly. “But I’m not ready to let her go.” She pulled her scarf up around her chin. “So why are you building on the South Shore?”

I smiled. “Iza and Lucas never showed us available stakes anywhere else.”

Lydia nodded knowingly. We turned quiet again.

“So the wedding is on again.” There was no question. The fact was well known for weeks, actively discussed by the hour, by every female in the hamlet. A serious valley of gossips. It never ends. Everyone’s main entertainment, if the truth be told.

“Never technically off,” I said.

“You know I love Adam—” Lydia said.

“I understand,” I interrupted. “You’d be a strange one not to be a little biased.” I hid my grin in my scarf.

“Lucas’ll find a good woman—if he ever starts looking,” Lydia said softly, as though to herself.

We were probably both hiding smiles in our scarves.

Lydia shivered melodramatically, and called out to Gladie. “Are you ready to go in?”

“Can we g—go ’ver to Aunt Kincere’s. It’s—it’s about story time.”

Lydia looked over at me. Permission to end my visit.

“I’d love to join you,” I said. “Pazeta’s stories are always interesting. I understand Coedwig often finds an excuse to be about, taking a break, or warming up or some such thing.”

“The cranky old dwarf is embarrassed by his true demeanor,” Lydia said as we made our way down the porch steps. “All the gruffness aside, he’s nothing more than a soft, sewn-together, sleepy-time bear.”

I watched the tiny little girl trudging along in front of us. Gladie had come a long way in the past few months. Had long since discarded her wheelchair. Most signs of her ordeal were gone but a bit of stutter and slurred speech, and an awkward gait—all more noticeable when she tired. Whether she would have been as petite in stature if she’d never gotten ill could only be guessed.

I peered up at the sky. The gray had darkened. Looked as though it had plans for the Valley. Would I make it back to the Inn before it decided what it wanted to drop upon us?

~

This was an early blizzard even for the Range, the first snow at all to hit the Valley, on the morning Lucas was taking me and Adam north, as we prepared for our permanent move south, and for the wedding. The Lake wasn’t even frozen over hard, yet. I stood looking out the windows of the lobby, but there wasn’t much to see. Nothing but white. Hopefully the dwarves working on our new stake made it home safely, or had enough supplies there to hold out until the wind stopped making the world seem tipped on its side.

“Where’s Adam?”

Master Bick’s question made me jerk. Hadn’t heard him crossing the room. He stood behind me, still wearing his heavy cloak. Inches of snow snuggled in the crevasses of his shoulders and arms weren’t yet challenged to melt. He must have just trudged from his home down to the Inn.

“Didn’t he make it back last night?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sure he did. Prolly came in after I moseyed home.”

In an instant the fear my mother would be angry if we were late getting back became unimportant. A pain crossed from shoulder to shoulder. I bit down on the thumbnail of the hand that reached up to my mouth unbidden. I assumed the reason Adam hadn’t stopped by my room last night to tell me good night was because he made it in late. Such is a doctor’s life. Much worse scenarios shot through my mind now.

“When did this heavy snow start?” I asked.

“Swirled good when we headed home last night. You stay here,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ll go see if he’s in his room. I’m sure he is.”

I didn’t wait. Together we walked down the hall and up the landing to my fiance’s room. A hard knock didn’t bring anyone to the door. Bick opened it with his master key. The curtains were never drawn. The bed hadn’t been slept in.

I froze. Bick’s arm went around my shoulder.

“Don’t worry none,” he said. “Adam surely stayed over wherever he was, when the weather turned foul.” He closed the door and relocked it.

“He’s a city boy, Master Bick. He—he—”

“Hush. Let’s join the others in the kitchen. Luckily all our guests high tailed it north already. Anyone trying to skirt the pass in this would have truly been a worry.” He kept chatting as he walked me back downstairs. “Adam ain’t gonna be more than a few miles away from a safe place, no matter where he’s off too. Did he say who he was seein’?”

Bick was pushing open the kitchen door for me.

“He said he was tending one of Coedwig’s niece’s young’uns,” I said.

The man’s brows arched. He stood still at the door. “Oh my,” he murmured.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, with a little more anger than I meant.

He looked down, lips mucked together, as he stepped into the kitchen behind me. I put my hands to his chest to stop him.

“I’m no crystal-delicate darling. Don’t hide anything from me.”

“Why would he be hidin’ anythin’ from you?” Gladys asked, walking to us from where she and Sylvia were huddled by the stoves.

“Before we get in a snit,” Bick said shaking his head, “let me go talk to Yoso. He knows more about where everyone outside the Valley lives than most anyone, save Coedwig.”

“You’re saying Adam is in the deep mountains?” My visible level of worry probably ratcheted to panic.

Bick held out one hand, pulling his hood over his head with the other. He spoke to his wife. “Gladys, dear, calm the child until I get back.” He walked past us for the side door.

It took more time than was fair for Bick to return. Yoso and Eina were with him when he did. Bick stomped his boots at the door, and Sylvia handed the two trolls a towel. It wasn’t until they leaned over to wipe their feet that I noticed the trolls were both still barefoot. The bizarreness of that only partially connected with my consciousness.

Eina reached out and put her freezing arm around me. “How are ya doin’, dear?” she asked in her deep baritone voice. Melting snow seeped into her long dreadlocks.

“Depends upon what you know about where Adam could be,” I answered.

“It’s snowin’ so hard out there I barely made my way to their place,” Bick complained. “Couldn’t see a thing. Much worse than it was when we came down half an hour ago.”

“Otherwise I would hike over to the South Shore to see what the others know,” Yoso said.

“He was gonna try that anyway, but we wouldn’t let him.” Eina shot a mean glare at her mate, clear they’d shared some strongly worded thoughts.

“Too easy to get turned around when all ya see is white,” Bick said. “He could walk right into the Lake, or due north and never know it.”

Bick removed his cloak and shook snow onto the closest stove. The sizzle from glops hitting the hot surface sounded wrong against the wail of the wind.

“Where do you think Adam is?” I asked.

“Coedwig’s people live southwest of here, in the high foothills. It might hardly be snowin’ there,” Bick said. His expression said something else.

“But you don’t believe that for a moment, do you?” I challenged him. Looking out the side window at the plate of swirling white, I didn’t believe it.

Bick peered down at his hands, which he held out over the stove. He didn’t answer me.

“No point gettin’ yar mind in a whirl,” Eina said in a tone that was final. “He’s an intelligent man. The moment he realized he was endangerin’ himself, he would have turned back and made it to where he started. When the sky clears, the dwarves will ensure he gets here safely. When it’s possible.”

When it’s possible. “Syl is in your barn, isn’t he, Yoso? Couldn’t he fly there and make sure?”

“Dragons can no more fly in this than a man can walk in it,” Eina said a little harshly. “Besides, we don’t even know where there is.”

“Have you noticed?” Sylvia asked, looking about. She held her hands apart, indicating the room in general.

“What?” Bick asked.

“There are no gnomes,” she said.

“True.” Bick turned to drape his rumpus over the stove.

“What—” I asked, looking from face to face.

“They always show up when someone is needin’ help,” Gladys explained.

“When Eina got sick, and Lydia and Gladie were kidnapped,” Sylvia said.

Yoso added, “When the orcs were lost in a storm similar to this one. When the dragons have fought. When Gladie got sick.”

“When Wilbur was drownin’,” Gladys murmured.

Bick took a step toward her and put his arm around her shoulder.

“Who is Wilbur?” I asked.

“Gladys’ first husband,” Bick answered for his wife.

My mind spun, thinking of Adam, who was to be my first husband. I wondered about Wilbur, whom I never met. What kind of man was he? Had people stood about at a loss for any way to help when he passed? How long ago was that? If Adam perished out in that storm, would I move along to another man, like Gladys has done?

It occurred to me I should apologize, acknowledge somehow, Gladys’ late husband. With the moments passing it seemed evermore inappropriate. Gladys would appreciate how I feel now, wouldn’t she? But then Yoso could too. He nearly lost Eina. Had Sylvia ever lost anyone she was close to?

“All we can do,” the gentle bull troll said, “is wait out the storm.”

~

The wind howled for another five hours and the snow fell hard for another ten. It banked up to the top of the veranda, which was ten foot above ground level on the Lake side. The east-facing doors were completely entombed. No one was going to be out in that for weeks. What of my wedding? No doubt my mother is still planning it. But would there be a groom to accompany me?

Felt as though a month had passed, when one afternoon the sky finally cleared. The dragons felt safe not to get caught in another storm, so Iza and her brothers dug out of their barns, and Taiz’lin showed up, to begin searching. Watching them fly off, I sobbed again, even though I thought the last days had sapped the agony from me.

All of the North Shore inhabitants joined us in the Inn now. Somehow the injection of new life supported me. We sat together in the great room in front of its enormous hearth telling stories, or making up lies, as Birs, Ike’s father, called it. We roasted nuts and popped corn, played checkers, with the never-ending lies continuing.

The riderless dragons returned as the gloom deepened. There was no guessing there was a sun behind those gray clouds. Only the onset of blackness would prove the sun fell. They didn’t get far, Iza explained. It was time consuming finding each cabin hidden within the trees, covered deep in snow. They would go out again first light, she promised.

Late, when everyone drifted off for a bed down the hall, Sylvia followed me to my room. We lay together on my bed, my head on the elder woman’s shoulder, snuggled under three quilts. We talked quietly about men—mostly how awful and self centered they are, anything to avoid what was truly on our minds.

~

The next day dragged horribly. By late afternoon everyone’s spirits had noticeably plateaued. Bick and the bulls mostly played checkers. The females huddled in the kitchen, going through the motions of cooking. Joining them actually distracted me. Had never spent an unnecessary minute in a kitchen before coming south. Had been taught the rudiments of cooking, but the kitchen was the domain of the servants. Watching what went on here, the social life I didn’t expect, was almost exciting. The fact that an orc, ogre, and a troll hen made up the greater part of the mix certainly added to the dynamics.

The dragons returned again with no news. I sobbed, and the females surrounded me. The males hurried to get away. Eina reminded me the dragons hadn’t even found who Adam had been last visiting.

“So no word today is no worse.”

Struggling to catch my breath, I studied the troll. Wanted to thank her, for trying, but the words wouldn’t come.

Later, I heard Eina quietly asking Yoso how long the dragons could maintain their pace, in the cold.

“As long as it takes,” he said.

The troll’s voice broke. His emotion racked me, and I walked quickly to my room, holding my breath. I couldn’t cry in front of them again. It was time to stiffen my backbone. I sat in the cold and dark of my room until I was convinced I could accept the worse. Time to hold my chin up. Time to grow up.

I entered the grand lobby and challenged Yoso to a game of checkers. I was down to one red disk it seemed before I blinked. “I see this isn’t as much a game of chance as I thought.”

The troll’s chest rattled in a laugh—his kind of laugh. “Child. Whoever told ya it’s a game of chance?”

I grinned as he took my last pip. We set up again. Yoso was a good sport, leaving me with red, and the first move, as we played game after game. The other bulls, and Bick, gave up their own playing to watch us—or more likely, to distract and tease Yoso about how I did better each game.

The next day we settled in again to wait word from the dragons. I sat riveted in front of the checker board with Yoso. Ike coached me, as the other bulls allowed him to get away with more and more specific direction than general strategy. Yoso’s eyes would twinkle as he dared Ike to try to beat him, if he could.

The banter cramped my sides. I’d never seen this kind of behavior in men back home. The activity kept me from feeling guilty about not allowing my worries to outwardly affect me. I would not whimper any longer. The games continued. My skill improved enough that Yoso stopped playing automatically. As I lasted longer, the jeers from his friends encouraged Yoso to keep up his best game.

The dragons returned. They hadn’t found Adam.

I borrowed a thick, lined pair of pants and boots from Sylvia and waded through the snow in the dark to first visit Tir to share my thanks, then Tae and Syl. I rubbed their wings like Aedwin showed me. The dragons assured me Iza and Taiz’lin knew how appreciative I was of their efforts.

That night I lay staring at the flicker from the small fireplace on the ceiling of my room, accepting that Adam was lost. I would rise in the morning and smile, and continue to challenge Yoso, maybe even Ike, I mused. But one more day would be the last I would ask the dragons to search.

~

I woke and counted the five muffled chimes from the clock down the hall. I bundled up and made my way outside and through the deep snow. Opening the door to the barn, I stepped inside and waited for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. But it wouldn’t help.

“Ya’ve come to speak to me?” echoed from the other side of the barn.

Through the blackness, I held out my hands and made my way toward Syl’s voice.

“It’s very cold out here for ya,” Syl said. “Ya should be in bed.”

“Kind of you to think of me, Syl. But I’m more worried about you. This search must be exhausting.”

“It’s cuttin’ into my sleep,” he said. The vibration of his laugh made the horses whinny and goats bleat. “They don’t rightly like sharin’ their home with me,” the dragon said after they calmed.

I smiled. But my mood darkened as I reminded myself why I was here. “If Adam was caught in the open when the blizzard hit, he’s dead. Isn’t he?” I took a couple slow steps into the blackness.

The dragon remained quiet. Syl didn’t have to answer me. I knew it was the truth.

“If he made it to one of the settlers’ cabins, he’s safe there. Is there any reason to continue this hunt?” I asked.

“Yar peace of mind is worth it,” he said. “And to get him home.”

“I don’t want any of you taking chances with your lives for that,” I said.

I stepped closer to him. Heard the rustle of hay shifting, and then the musky scent of the dragon. When he spoke again, his face was very close.

“Ya’re very brave, and kind to worry about us,” Syl said.

I asked him when they last fed. The dragon refused to answer.

“Your hunt today must be for game, not Adam,” I told him. “Eat, and rest.”

I sensed Syl’s muzzle was only inches away from me, heard him sniffing. I laughed. He asked what was funny.

“What does my scent tell you?” I asked.

“That ya’re a good person. Carin’. Gentle. Ya’re afraid for yar future mate. That ya’ve been cryin’. Ya’ve not slept very much these last several days.”

I reached up through the inky blackness and found the surprisingly soft edge of the dragon’s chin. I scratched the plush coat of his throat.

~

I sat down that morning in front of Janding, the Hamlet’s orc-artist. I plopped the checker board on the table a little dramatically, and the pieces jiggled about.

“I really don’t play that much,” the orc said. He looked across at his mother, who smiled back with her lips drawn tight.

“If you aren’t a liar, maybe I have a chance at winning a game,” I said.

He snuffled. It’s odd how all the races have their own ways to demonstrate their emotions.

Five minutes later I had two kings, and jumped up from the table screeching with delight, ran around in a circle with my arms in the air. Everyone in the room roared in laughter. In another five minutes I had my first win, and I shrieked in joy.

“I’m not a moron after all,” I called out to Yoso, who leaned against the lobby desk, speaking softly to Bick.

The troll called back. “Beatin’ that artist doesn’t mean ya aren’t a moron.”

Janding leered at his friend, before his face cracked into a crooked smile.

When I settled down and we set the board for another game, Janding said, “Rumor is ya told the dragons to go hunt and rest today.”

“You can’t keep a secret in this Hamlet, can you?”

He snuffled again. “Consider who ya spoke to this morning.”

I probably looked at him blankly for a moment, before remembering—I definitely am a moron—the orc is Syl’s rider. Janding doesn’t stomp around displaying his pride of being a dragon rider like the others. But then I can’t rightly say I had ever actually had a conversation with him before.

“And of course everyone else knows too?”

Janding grinned, in that tight-lipped manner his mother often does. Sylvia had told me they know their sharp teeth make humans uncomfortable. If I had more character, I’d ask them not to behave differently around me. But—maybe showing I accept, is better than telling.

~

It was snowing steadily when the dragons arrived late that afternoon. They didn’t stay. I heard them launch from where I sat by the fire. When Yoso returned from speaking with them he announced Iza explained the sedge was going to stay at Ike’s to get out of the cold for the night.

The snow continued through the night and the next day, keeping the dragons out of the mountains. It was two days after that before the dragons returned. By then a channel was cut through the snow off the front veranda so the winter’s Inn residents could get outside if there was an emergency. The snow was banked up well above the first floor roof.

I stood before the front windows. Shook my head, never dreaming so much snow could possibly fall. There is no doubt about making the Valley my permanent home, though. The winters are long, but the people, folk, have captured my heart.

I listened to the vibrations of the troll’s voice outside, speaking to Iza. The conversation was short. When Yoso returned, I could see by his expression something bothered him.

“Iza said the snow is dangerously deep in the elevations where they’re lookin’ for Adam. The cabins are closed in tight. But worse, the dragons can’t land. Once in a ten-foot drift they can’t launch. She had a terrible scare in an open field. If it had been one of her siblings, he would have been stuck in the snow.”

The troll looked down at his fuzzy, wet feet. “It’s gonna be months before they’ll be able to get in there, unless we have an extraordinary warm spell.” After a moment he added, “It happens, sometimes.”

“I understand,” I said, working hard to keep my chin up and the tears from running.

“Iza would like to know if ya wish to go home—to inform yar family, spend the winter with them?”

The question seemed to rattle around in my head. I was unable to focus, to distinguish that I even had a decision to make. I’m home now. Inform who of what?

“I imagine yar family needs to know yar plans may have to be postponed,” Yoso said.

“Yes. Yes,” I said.

“Do ya want Iza to wait for ya, or come back later?”

“Let me bundle up,” I said after re-gathering my thoughts.

~

The space around the main door was crowded with all of my friends when I came back down from my room. I didn’t know what to say to them, so simply gave them hugs and rushed out the door. Iza had already crossed the Lake and returned with Lucas. He reached down and offered me his hand, and Iza extended a leg to give me a step up.

I thought of Wilbur. How long did Gladys have to wait to learn of her husband’s fate? Is Adam alive? Or would I find myself being wooed by another man a year from now? Perhaps by the young man I settled behind.

I jerked in surprise as Iza leaned back to stand out of the snow. As she launched, I gripped tightly at Lucas’ coat, sliding back against one of the dragons neck ridges. Iza’s wings dipped into the snow several times as she struggled. With each upstroke, heavy scoops of snow cascaded over me and Lucas.

~