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Heritage: Sam’s Birthday Surprise

  Sam was tired, but that didn’t bother her as much as being wet. She couldn’t stand the feeling of drenched clothes sticking to her skin, slithering against her with every slight movement she made. The faint glow of orange lights emanating from the tavern windows reassured her that she was no longer lost. The ache in her shoulders encouraged her to pick up her pace; her sack wasn’t getting any lighter. The bustling sounds of clinking glasses, arguments, and laughter grew louder as she got closer; a clear sign of a full house. She stopped in front of  the doorway and unslung her bounty to lean against the wall to collect herself. The sheathed sword on her belt clanked against the wall. The mud and blood caked upon her face and clothes with her hair matted all the way down to her braid didn’t concern her. But the idea of stumbling in, gasping for air was not something she wanted others to see. She heaved a few breaths of the cold, crisp air, slung her sack onto her back, straightened her posture, and swung the door open.

Just as the sounds from outside indicated, the tavern was packed. Oil lamps along the walls lit up the room as servers darted back and forth between the serving window from the kitchen and crowded tables; maneuvering through the labyrinth of seated patrons to deliver trays of flagons and meals. Sam made her way to the bar, ignoring those that paused their hobnobbing and merrymaking to whisper and not-so-subtly pointing at her and her sack. She did, however, came to an abrupt stop halfway at the sight of spotted someone familiar at the bar. A man whose attire was a clear proclamation of his superior status over the common folk in the tavern. Creator’s blood what’s he doing here, thought Sam. The man was holding a cup of water and examining the small particles floating in it with disgust. Good he hasn’t seen me yet, she thought. She turned around to head back towards the door.

“Sam!” erupted a begrudged voice.

She let out a deep sigh before turning around to face her extravagantly dressed brother. “Isn’t there a party you should be at, Hal?”

Hal banged the cup onto the bar counter and recoiled from a few drops of the scrutinized liquid that splashed out. “You mean YOUR party?”

“I mean the party YOU put together behind my back,” she sat herself next to her brother and dropped the sack onto the floor with a thud. The legs of wooden chairs slid against the floor as some of the tavern’s occupants stood up to get a better look at the sack. 

“That’s what a surprise birthday party is,” he sneered. “What happened to the dress you were wearing before you disappeared?”

“It’s in the gardening shed.”

“The shed?!” he shouted. “That dress was made from the finest silk in Tumeria!”

“Silk does nothing for protection,” she said. She winced at the pain that shot through her shoulder as she waved down the barman. He was a stout, hairy man who took his time wiping an empty flagon with a soiled rag before  approaching the two mismatched patrons. Sam dropped a few silver coins in front of him,. “One dragon’s breath and a flagon of ale,” she said. The barman swiped the coins with a grunt and filled the flagon he had just wiped. He then plopped the ale filled container between the two siblings. The barman bent down behind the counter and came back up with a small glass cup and a dusty, brown- tinted bottle. He placed the cup in front of Sam and poured a clear, brownish- red liquid into it. “I am not drinking that,” said her brother while grimacing at the flagon of ale in front of him. “Sanitation seems to be a concept foreign to this establishment.”

“Good,” said Sam. She slid the flagon next to her brother in front of her. “Because that’s my chaser.” She tilted her head back to chug the dragon’s breath in one gulp. As expected from its namesake, the liquid left a burning sensation all the way down to her stomach. She let out a sharp exhale through her mouth in an attempt to dull the taste of what she described as a lit wooden torch shoved in her mouth. Hal caught a strong whiff of Sam’s breath.

“By the void, it smells like you could clean rust off a sword with that drink!” he cringed.

“Probably” Sam choked. She grabbed the flagon and took a few gulps.

“I don’t understand how you can do any of this.”

She removed the flagon from her mouth and let out a more relieved exhale. “It really calms my nerves after a good hunt.”

“I mean act like them,” Hal said as he looked around the tavern.

“Well fancy dresses and lavish parties just aren’t my cup of tea.” She raised her pinky in a mock toast.

Her brother grabbed her arm before she could take another drink. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” 

Her eyes were fixed on the inside of her flagon as she spoke. “Let go of my arm, Hal.”

“You and I both know the last thing you want to do is cause a scene here.”

“You’re right,” she said, “but I also know the last thing YOU want is to get that nice little party outfit of yours ruined.”

Hal glared at his sister as they sat there, like statues, for a moment. Finally, he let her go with a sigh. “Well it looks like you’re done with whatever you ditched the party for,” he said while nudging the sack with his foot. “If we leave now, we might have enough time for you to get cleaned up and back in that dress at least to thank everyone for coming.”

Sam finished her ale. “Or…counteroffer” she said with a raised finger, “how about I go claim my bounty while you go back to the party by yourself and thank everyone for coming while wearing my silky little dress.”

“Sam. Look. I didn’t throw the this party for m-“

Both of them stopped arguing to look at the tavern doorway. A familiar sensation resonated throughout their body.

Sam put down her flagon. “Something’s coming.”

Hal unbuttoned his jacket. “Something big.”

The door swung open to reveal a man with blood running down his terror stricken face. “Monster!” the man bellowed. All forms of hobnobbing and merrymaking came to an immediate end at the sound of the dreaded “m” word. “Headless…monster…,” he wheezed between gasps of air, “…coming…this way!”

Both Sam and her brother slowly turned their heads to the sack between them to find roots slowly sprouting out of it.

“Sam,” said her brother, “where did you decapitate this mythic?”

“In its den.”

“Were there any bright purple flowers around it?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Y-yeah. Why?” The doorway exploded, spattering debris all over the inside of the tavern. Within the cloud of dust around the newly established opening was a silhouette of a large menacing figure. Sam felt something brush against her leg causing her to look down to find the sack dragging itself across the floor with its roots. “No, this doesn’t make sense,” said Sam. “I decapitated a feral werewolf, not a dendrite.”

A flash of metal slashed through the roots around the sack, rendering it immobile. “You did both,” said Hal who was brandishing an ornate dagger he was concealing under his jacket.

“What do you mean?” asked Sam. The dust settled to reveal a large headless body of a werewolf with a network of vines coming out from where its head used to be. The vines were wrapped around the rest of the body like an external nervous system. The vines creaked as they tightened and rubbed against each other to make the werewolf’s body lurched toward them. As many are expected to react to such a sight, everyone in the tavern took this opportunity to run out through the hole the body was walking away from. Everyone except for Sam and her brother.

“Whether intentionally or not, this werewolf had a dendrite living in it,” said Hal. The mythic took took another step towards them.

Sam drew her sword. “They can do that?”

“Not usually, but I remember reading it in some of dad’s journals a couple times.” 

“How do we kill it?”

Hal looked at the vines wriggling out of the exposed neck. “Well you already killed the werewolf part. So that just leaves us with the dendrite part.”

The body lunged forward with its arms extended towards them. Sam barely had enough time to grab the strap of the sack before she and her brother dove out of the way in opposite directions. The bar splintered under the force of the razor sharp claws of the werewolf.

“Argh!”

“Hal,” yelled Sam on the other side of the tavern, “are you okay?”

“No I’m not,” Hal yelled back. He pointed at the tears on his shoulder and knee. “My suit is ruined! It was specially made from the finest-”

“-silk in Tumeria. Yeah yeah,” Sam sighed. “Told you it does nothing for protection.”

“Oh I’m sorry! I wasn’t planning on cleaning up your mess when I came to find you!”

“My mess?!” yelled Sam. She pointed at the headless mythic. “This thing was killing people by the handfuls for the past three days! Someone had to stop it!” It propped itself back into a standing position like a marionette and swung itself around to face Sam. “Uh oh.”

The body lunged at Sam. She, once again, leapt out of the way of its claws but felt her leg being jerked back as if she was being tripped in midair. Her body slammed onto the ground almost knocking the wind out of her. She looked down to see a vine wrapped around her ankle.

“Sam!”

Other vines from the body reached out towards the sack that was on Sam’s back. She sliced the vine around her ankle and rolled away to get some distance. “Apparently, these two want to reunite,” she said.

While the dendrite was setting itself upright, Hal charged from behind and slashed at the legs to sever the vines and roots wrapped around it, toppling it over like a rag doll. “Now’s our chance! Douse it with oil so we can set this thing on fire!”

“I didn’t bring any.”

Hal looked at his sister with wide eyes. “What?!”

“I was out to get a werewolf. Not a dendrite!”

“You’re still supposed to bring at least one bottle with you on hunts!”

New vines and roots started to wrap around the mythic’s legs.

Sam waved her sword in Hal’s direction. “At least I brought a sword instead of a fancy butter knife!’

“This was a gift from Baron Moores!” Hal exclaimed. “I had to make sure he saw how well it went with my jacket!”

“Moores is a drunk and a womanizer.”

“A womanizer with a lot of influence. Do you know how hard it was to convince him and some of those nobles to come?” asked Hal. “How many strings I had to pull?”

One of the legs started to bend.

“I. Didn’t. Want. A. Party!” Sam enunciated.

“Creator’s blood! I can’t believe how selfish you’re being!”

“Me?! You’re just using MY birthday for YOUR own personal gains!”

“I was doing this for mom!”

The mythic jumped back onto its feet and leapt at Sam who jumped back only to trip over a chair that was behind her. The vines thrusted towards Sam and the sack, just barely out of reach, while the mythic’s body sailed over her and crashed into some of the tables that still had food and drinks on them.

Hal caught wafts of the spilled drinks as he went over to help Sam up. “Ugh! I don’t know what smells worse, the werewolf’s decaying body or that dragon’s breath.”

“Dragon’s breath…” Sam muttered to herself. “That’s it!” She rushed over to the back of the bar.

“What are you-“ Hal was distracted by the sound of broken tables and chairs scraping across the floor as the mythic got back up. He charged toward the mythic’s leg to try and immobilize it again. This time, the mythic was aware of Hal’s presence and retaliated with a barrage of vines to fend him off. Chunks of vine plopped to the ground as Hal dodged and slashed through them with each step forward. When he was close enough, he swung at one of the legs. The ornate dagger sliced through a few of the vines until it came across something much harder. The blade snapped at the sudden halt in momentum and caused Hal to lose his balance. The mythic took advantage of this by braiding multiple vines together and swung them right into Hal’s midsection, causing him to sail across the tavern and crash into a couple of chairs. He gasped for breath and braced himself back up with what he then realized was the broken handle of his dagger. He looked over to see the blade stuck in a freshly grown wooden casing wrapped around the mythic’s legs. The mythic brought its attention back to Sam, who just reached the back of the bar. “Sam!” He tried to take a step forward but stumbled from the pain in his stomach “Sam! Watch out!”

She shook the sack above her head. “Hey you big dumb bundle of twigs! Missing something?” The mythic responded by not only squatting down but also digging some of its vines into the ground to launch itself towards Sam at alarming speed. She dropped the sack and was barely able to dive out of the way of the timbering behemoth barreling towards her. The sounds of wood crunching and snapping erupted in the tavern as the mythic crashed right into the back of the bar where a number of barrels were. A nose numbing aroma of dragon’s breath filled the air. Sam wrested a nearby oil lamp off the wall and threw it at the barrel soaked mythic, igniting it in a flash. The mythic writhed in agony and stumbled around the tavern. The roots of the sack whipped around in a fiery frenzy on the floor until the body finally fell next to it in a blazing heap. Sam looked over to see her brother walking towards her while nursing his stomach. “You okay?” she asked.

“You owe me a dagger,” Hal said while brandishing the broken one in his hand.

She picked up the sack with the now limp vines. “It’s not my fault the Baron’s blade is as flimsy as his fidelity.”

“A nice one!”

Sam let out a sigh. “Fine, whatever. One with little jewels encrusted all over the handle so you can show it off to both highborns and mythics alike.” 

Hal placed the handle in one jacket pocket and pulled out a golden pocket watch from another. “Creator’s blood! We need to go!”

“You know,” Sam said while looking around the destruction of the tavern, “I think you’re right. She tossed the lifeless sack into the fire and followed her brother’s hasty exit out of the wrecked tavern.

They reached the estate to find one of the stagecoaches parked at the front entrance. “No no no!” said Hal. He ran ahead to intercept the nobleman helping his wife into it. “Lord Fauntleroy,” shouted Hal. “Leaving already?”

“Indeed I am, Harold,” said the man. His face was contorted with disdain. “I never thought I would have had to experience such a thing as both the individual of someone’s birthday and the host being absent from their own function.”

“But we’re here now and-“

“What in the realm happened to your clothes?”

“Well it’s actually quite a funny and captivating story I’d be more than happy to tell you,” Hal peaked into the stagecoach to address a woman in a luxurious dress, “and the lovely Lady Fauntleroy if you could both humor me to come back in-“

“My word! What is that horrific stench emanating off of you?” said the woman.

“My apologies, mylady. But it actually adds to the appeal of the story I have for you both if you would just-“

“Good evening to you, Harold.” The nobleman slammed the stagecoach door shut and knocked on at the ceiling to signal his coachman to leave.

The stagecoach whizzed past Sam who gave a mock courtesy while exchanging a condescending glare at its occupants. She looked over to her brother to find him shaking his fists above his head before he rushed to the side of the estate. “Where are you going?” asked Sam.

“We can’t go in looking, or smelling, like this. I’m going to get your dress from the shed while you take the servants’ entrance to get to your wash room so you can get cleaned up.”

“Hal, it’s been a long day I really don’t-“

“Sam, please!” Hal took a deep breath to calm himself. “Do this for mom.”

“What does this party have to do with mom?”

“It’s…I’ll explain all of this after the party. Just…please do this. Okay?”

Sam was about to continue arguing with her brother but saw the expression on his face was more worrisome than frustrated. “Alright, fine.” She took the servants’ entrance and hurried up the stairs.

As she made her way down the hallway, she heard voices coming from her father’s old study room. The room has been restricted to only immediate family members since their father’s disappearance. The thought of anyone other than her mother or Hal in the room caused Sam’s fists to clench. She burst into the room to catch whoever was in there by surprise. But all that was in front of her was her father’s large wooden desk that faced the doorway with a large chair behind it. Mounted on the wall just above the chair was their father’s sword, the only thing that was found when their father disappeared. The embedded in the cross guard of the sword three different colored gems; a red one on one side, blue on the other, and yellow in the middle.  “I know someone’s in here,” she said while scanning the room. “Party guests aren’t supposed to be up here.” She closed the door behind her and walked over to check under the desk on the other side of it. 

Seeing the empty space while knelt down in front of it reminded her of when her and her brother used to play hide and seek with their father. It was hard to believe they were once small enough to hide under the desk together. No matter where they hid, their father always managed to find them. Even in the strangest of places. The image of her father pulling a giggling, soot covered girl out of the chimney brought a panged smile upon her face. “Dad, where are you?” she whispered.

“Poor, girl. She misses him terribly.”

Sam spun around and drew her sword towards the man’s voice that came from behind her only to find nobody there. “Who’s there?!” Her eyes darted around the room.

“Wait, did she hear you?” came another man’s voice.

“Of course I heard him…and you. Now show yourselves!”

“Creator’s will,” came a woman’s voice, “she can!”

“I said show yourselves!” Sam tightened her grip on her sword.

“Sam, please calm down,” said the first voice.

The sound of her name caused her to involuntarily back into the desk. “How do you know my name?!”

“We’ve known you since you were born,” came the second voice.

Sam swiped her sword around the air in front of her. “Are you invisible?”

  “No,” came the woman’s voice, “we’re right in front of you, on the wall.”

“The wall? What are you talking ab-“ Sam’s stared at the one object that was in front of her this whole time. “You...anyone...whoever. Say something again.”

“Something,” said the second voice.

“No,” said Sam. “You’re coming from my dad’s sword?”

“Well the gems on the sword to be a little more precise but close enough,” said the first voice.

Sam sheathed her sword and removed her father’s sword from the wall to examine the three gems. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh just hanging around,” said the second voice which was coming from the red gem.

“Creators preserve me. You’ve have to excuse Nar. He’s not one for reading the room.” said the woman’s voice which was coming from the blue gem.  

“Who or what are you?” said Sam. “You can’t be mythics. I’m not sensing any of you.”

“We used to be,” said the yellow gem, “until we succumbed to the plague. 

“Plague?” asked Sam.

“Hmph. Abe never told you? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” said the blue gem.

“Abe? My dad?” 

“Now, Glace,” said the yellow gem, “you know he had his reasons.”

“It doesn’t make it any less hurtful, Blitz,” said the blue gem.

“Look,” said Sam, “if you’re trying to possess my dad’s sword to haunt him or something, I have bad news for you. He’s gone.” She looked back at the empty space under the desk. “He’s been gone for a long time.”

“No, you misunderstand,” said Glace. “We didn’t just show up. We’ve been on his sword ever since he embedded us on it.”

“And now you feel like being chatty?” asked Sam.

“Hey we’ve always been chatty,” said Nar. “We talked all the time to Abe even when he was around you and anyone else.”

Sam sat down on the chair behind the desk. “So how come I can hear you now?”

“I think I might know,” said Blitz. “How old are you?”

“I just turned eighteen today.”

“Oh, happy birthday,” said Nar.

“Nar please,” said Blitz. “That makes sense. Abe’s second hearing didn’t manifest until he was eighteen.”

“Second hearing?” asked Sam.

“It’s what he called his ability to hear mythics,” said Nar.

“He could do that?” said Sam. “How come he never told us?”

Glace scoffed. “Well Abraham thought it best to-“

“Wait!” shouted Sam as she raised the sword in front of her. “You were there when my father disappeared! Where did he go? What happened to him?!”

“We…” Blitz said with hesitation.

“We don’t know,” said Nar.

Sam lowered the sword and slumped into the chair. “Oh…”

“But,” said Glace, “we have an idea on someone who might.”