The Heroes’ Rest

Prologue to a novel I am working on

Drulla stood behind the bar, watching her lazy git of a husband snore his way through what was meant to be last orders. It had been a successful night, all in all. The regulars had behaved, and the newcomers had kept to themselves. The band she’d hired had performed well, even if they were a little too new wave for her tastes.

She looked around the tavern she and her good-for-nothing husband Merril had bought together all those years ago. The Heroes’ Rest, they had named it. A fitting name, she thought, as she watched Merril sleep soundly and loudly in the corner of the room. His short legs were propped up on a small table, the holes in his socks shamelessly on display to all who dared look.

At his feet, his loyal companion, his almost-as-lazy dog Traegar, sat with his back to him, cautiously watching the room through old eyes while the patrons enjoyed the evening’s activity.

She’d paused halfway through counting the night’s takings to glance over the candlelit room, now filled to the corners with wispy pipe smoke. She watched as Odaxi, or Dax as she preferred to be called, walked from table to table, issuing drinks without complaint and, more recently, without being pestered by wandering hands.

The regulars let Dax alone these days, especially since Pazak had lost a tooth and Htraad had only just begun to recover the sight in his right eye. They knew better now. It was best to leave her be.

They had taken in the young halfling two months ago. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Personally, Drulla hadn’t wanted to hire her. She’d seemed like trouble. Fierce temper and a mouth like a sailor. Last week, Dax stubbed her toe, and by the Gods, the phrases she came out with could have stripped paint from the walls. She was a real handful, this one. It was Merril who had convinced her to take a chance on Dax. He had put his foot down, one of the only times she could remember him doing so.

Merril always saw the spark in people, the real them beneath the noise. That was one of the things she loved most about him.

And he’d been right, of course. In a short time, Dax had become an important part of their lives. She was like a daughter to them. They’d had a child of their own once, six wonderful months spent with him before he passed. That was a long time ago now, and while the pain hadn’t eased, she’d learned to be grateful for the time they had together. They hadn’t the heart to try again after that.

Drulla’s reflection was broken when Grif, one of the tavern’s regulars, flinched violently as Dax leaned across his table, sending his current drink crashing to the floor.

Drulla giggled quietly as he began mopping up the ale with the bottom of his shirt, muttering apologies.

No, Dax wouldn’t get any more trouble from the regulars. It was the new faces who might need a five-finger education. There were a few in tonight. They hadn’t arrived together, but all within a few hours of each other that morning.

As the closest tavern to the entrance of the Eldari Forests, it wasn’t uncommon for people to stop here overnight before the two-week trip through to the other side. No one came out of two weeks in the Eldari Forest looking that clean. Some didn’t make it out at all.

The band were reaching the last stretch of their performance. They were finishing on a higher-tempo piece, the hand drums beating quickly.

She cast her eye over the crowd before settling on one of the newcomers.

The dark-haired human was tall and thin, with long black hair and pale skin. His head was firmly buried in a book. He had quite a pile of them stacked on the table, varying in colour and condition. Quite the avid reader, Drulla thought.

She’d met people like that before. Book readers. They always had a certain look about them, like they knew something you didn’t and were waiting for you to figure it out. All wrapped in a smug sense of self-satisfaction.

At the table opposite sat another newcomer. Also human, but stockier. He wore his dark, shaggy hair loose, with a thick but neatly trimmed beard. He had been relatively quiet, but he’d at least attempted some conversation with the staff, unlike the first man.

This one was polite. Courteous. He even tipped after each order. There was no need to, of course, but who was she to tell a man his business?

She wasn’t sure where the first man came from, but this second one was unmistakably Dawnish. The vibrant blue of his eyes moved like a crashing wave tumbling over white sand. Drulla always thought Dawnish eyes were a bit dreamy.

There was something noble in the way he sat, the way he walked and carried himself. He looked ready to spring into action with the sword and shield he carried at a moment’s notice. She didn’t have a bad word to say about him, except earlier, when she’d noticed he smelled of wet dog.

Drulla finished counting the coin they’d taken for the evening. They’d done well tonight. One of the best nights they’d had in a very long time. The song increased in speed again, and Drulla felt her own heartbeat rise to meet the tempo of the song.

Why couldn’t she shift this heavy feeling in her chest? A creeping dread that she just couldn’t ignore.

She looked over at her husband, still snoring in those tatty socks. Traegar had settled now, his greying head lain on his arthritic paws, his eyes finally at rest.

She felt a warmth fill her chest as she watched her husband sleep and began to reminisce.

She’d loved him since the first day they met. They had attended a fayre in celebration of Moradin, the God of the Forge. She had gone with her sisters, and he with his brothers. Young and looking for potential suitors, as was the dwarven tradition. He had presented her with a small, precious gemstone he’d won at a carnival stall.

It was upstairs now, tucked away in her jewellery box. He’d asked her father for her hand in marriage a week later and had been refused. Merril, distraught, had signed up for one of the local mercenary groups the very next day.

Drulla was heartbroken. She thought he’d given up chasing her and moved on to other prospects.

But no. Six months later, he returned with a ring.

Of course, she had married him immediately. Her father had been furious. But he came around to it eventually.

They moved in together, and their life became one of routine. Merril would come and go on his adventures, each time bringing back varying pots of money. She worked as a housemaid. Eventually, after a lifetime of hunting monsters and cleaning toilets, they had saved enough to buy this place. Their home.

She looked around the room again, her gaze softening as it returned to him.

She leant on the bar, drew in a breath, held it, then let out a nervous sigh.

The band’s song increased pace now, its rhythm growing faster and more frantic, reaching its climactic crescendo.

Why couldn’t she shake this feeling that something was wrong?

She looked at Merril again, as he dozed away peacefully.

As long as they had each other, everything would be fine.

The song finished with a flourish, its final note lingering.

Traegar’s head shot up.

Then came the rumble.

And the wall exploded.