Legend to Farmer: A Slice of Life Fantasy by Dante King

Author:Dante King [King, Dante]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Going home.

It was amazing how much comfort could be derived from two little words.

Going home.

Technically, Valdis thought to himself, it was only the one word, ‘home’ that really hit him in the chest like a blunted spear tip. People were ‘going’ somewhere all the time. The ‘going’ wasn’t so special, but the ‘home’…

Valdis felt that feeling wash over him, filling him from the boot heels on upwards, as soon as the pair rounded the corner in the track that led off from the main road and came through the final stand of trees. It increased as soon as Lydia and he saw the farmstead, dilapidated still but a little tidier, standing there waiting for them.

The last of the tension he had been holding since the attack by the rimewyrms drained out of him, apparently going through the same channels that the warm feeling had come up from—through the soles of his feet.

It was a feeling that lasted all of eight seconds, because as the ninth second reared its ugly head, Lorcan, in his habitual billy goat form, came limping out from the barn. When a creature had four legs, Valdis wasn’t sure if having one of them raised constituted as hopping, but that was the impression he got on laying eyes on the pooka.

“I’ve been shot,” Lorcan said. He sounded mightily peeved.

As greetings went, it was far from the best that could have been uttered at that moment. It didn’t meld well with the warm feeling of coming home that Valdis had been experiencing and savoring.

“You’ve been what?” Valdis asked.

“I’ve been shot,” the pooka repeated.

“How in the world did you manage that?” Valdis asked before he could stop himself.

“I didn’t mean to,” Lorcan said, sounding even more peeved.

“Do you feel like you’re about to die?” Valdis asked the billy goat-shaped creature.

“I don’t think so,” Lorcan replied tentatively.

“Good. The last thing I feel like doing on getting back here is digging a grave.”

“We do have a new spade,” Lydia pointed out, the words coming out in a way that sounded automatic.

“Good point,” Valdis said.

“I can see why people don’t like your type,” Lorcan said.

“What type is that?” Lydia asked.

“Elves and humans,” the pooka replied. “Not the kindest sentient beings, are you?”

“I’m just going to put our new supplies out of the weather and the snow, and then we can deal with you,” Valdis said.

As he hurried past Lorcan, Valdis glanced down and there was, indeed, the feathered shaft of a rather nasty, but quite simple-looking crossbow quarrel poking out of the meat of his shoulder.

Valdis unslung the backpack from his shoulder, but before he could walk to the farmstead, Lydia grabbed the bag from his grasp and hurried away toward the fire.

“What are you—?” Valdis started to say.

“There are herbs in here, medicinal ones that I can use to make a poultice. While you were chatting to the proprietor of that general store, I was grabbing a block of honeycomb.” She smiled guiltily. “I love honeycomb and it’s useful for a lot of things.

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