HEARTHOLME Chapter 10: Of Things Forgotten

Orion sits on his stool with a hot cup of tea in his hands. His captor, Jarvis, sits with an equally hot cup of the same blend. They sip it together. Notes of honey and chamomile flavor their respective tongues. This prison is less a cage and more a distressed living arrangement.
"Once more, from the top," old man Ryan, also known as Orion, says as he rubs one of his old dwarvish hands over the other. "After we completed our quest and battled the great evil, Reth, we fell in battle. Iolanthe was victorious and so the world was not claimed by a creature of infernal destruction. She was offered one singular wish and her wish was for all that fought for Targe to be alive and happy. We were taken here and have remained ever since."
Jarvis, ever the active listener, gives the old dwarf eye contact during his retelling. "Not everyone fell in battle. Nasdamn survived from the original fellowship."
"His memories returned," Orion asks with paternal concern. Jarvis nods one slow nod, "That they did. He holds a place in the Summer court alongside his beloved, Calliope, though spends most of his time in Arhor'ha with his half-sister Be'lania."
Orion drinks deeply of his cup of tea, "Be'lania fought for the Dark Hearts. She fought for Reth. How is she alive and with Nas?"
"It is complicated," Jarvis admits, rubbing his neck where he was once strangled to death. The phantom pains still appear there when bringing up familiar memories. "As far as I can tell, there were pacts between Nadamn, Ty, and even Targe that made claiming her soul impossible at the time of her death. I hold an unpopular opinion that even Albert had a hand in making her soul unclaimable, despite all his villainy. Paulo was able to recover it from whatever planar darkness it was banished to. It is nothing short of a miracle."
"Miracles are in high supply if Heartholme is any indictor. A wish, really? Nothing good has ever come from grand wishes. Even good wishes get twisted. All things have a cost," the old dwarf exhales, "And Ty?" Orion asks, "We have a Ty here, Tywin. Is this the same Ty as Iolanthe's brother?"
"That is also complicated," Jarvis says in a rumble of frustration. It is as if he is explaining a complex equation to someone who wishes simple, direct answers. "I believe it also to be why your mind is unaffected, as the Lord of Continuity. Time, Space, and Fate all work differently under that aspect. There could have been a breach in continuity, but I do not know the details. If I did, it would invite the Abyss, so it is best that I do not know these eldritch things." Jarvis takes a sip of his tea and lets the honey coat his throat before he continues, "Of what I know, is that Ty's soul has split more than once. Tywin is a shard of what Ty once was, unlike yourself, who is whole."
"And dead, if I recall right," Orion grins at his current state of things, "with my old arm back instead of the workings of metal and gears it once was. My wife is alive again." All things considered, it is wish worthy if not for the knowledge that none of this is the truth. The truth seeker and law bringer in him can't accept this in peace. "There is a lot of incentive to leave things as they are," Orion admits as he sips his tea.
"But you can not," Jarvis reminds him with an intense stare.
"Aye, I can not," Orion looks to Jarvis behind the cell, "A sweet dream is still just that, it is a dream. These dreamers need wake up to return to the natural order of things."
"That is what the gods think too," Jarvis explains, "The Queen of Ravens holds jealousy over lost baubles of thought and the custodian of Death tires of the adjudication of the souls both here and there. The wish is becoming untenable and unstable as time progresses. It is only a matter of time before the celestials get involved. No one wants that."
"Freeport again," Orion growls darkly.
"Freeport again," Jarvis says gravely, "and those souls are damned between this and there. We must not let that happen to any creature, lest of all our friends."
"Ok," the slow dwarf says as he holds his tea in both hands, "Once more, from the top," Orion closes his eyes and goes over the details.
"You fought and won, but the story doesn't end when a chapter closes. It continues on into a new tale. Heartholme was created by a wish of love for those that fought for the side of light over the centuries. It is an a fabrication and as is all things artificial it does not stay perfect when subjected to reality as it does right now," Jarvis covers the ground in his own words. "And so the Greene family has come to deliver you from this dream, Targe willing."
"Is that why you attacked the Dragon's Heart," Orion asks from a different direction. The two have done this dance for some time now. Each time they go a little different from the center and end up with a better picture of the situation they are in.
"Yes," Jarvis confesses, "but we found our conventional weapons unfit for the job. The heart was scratched, but it is stubborn like a dragon."
"Or a dwarf," Orion grins back to Jarvis, "so what now? What is your plan now that the first has failed?"
"I do not know," Jarvis says quietly, "we were in the process of that when we were found out. My brother and father fled. There was no alternative plan. The plan we had was barely a plan at all, but was the only one we had. It was bold, but it had a shot.I believe their plan involves bolder action. Mine was to try to convince the enthralled of the truth. To date you are the only one who believes me."
"Sigwald, he didn't believe you," Orion asks. Jarvis shakes his head. Orion grunts, "Can't say I blame him. It isn't the sort of thing anyone is likely to believe. The words of a dissonant aiming to sow chaos. In my experience that is what this would be seen as. Yet I know different." His hands wash over his face, "What a pickle. And tomorrow is the Day of Hearts. It will only get stronger if we don't act by then."
Jarvis sets his cup down onto the dresser in his comfortable cell. "I am unfamiliar with that holiday, yet I have heard it more than once. Is it local?"
Orion nods his head more than more, "It is. You see, that big rock in the center of the town you want to break was created by the memories and souls of dragonborn before. In the history of the town, as they remember it, that crystal protects the town and provides the paradise you see. It makes enough sense, to some, that such great magic comes at great cost. The first dragonborn lit the forge and now it is our job to keep the fire burning. That is the Day of Hearts. They honor the original dragonborn and offer up memories and feelings of their own will. If it is enough, the heart itself continues to burn like a hungry furnace fed coal. If it is does not, then it takes it from one of the Tagryns."
"How horrid," Jarvis replies with disdain, "how is this a celebrated holiday?"
"People do funny things, Jarvis, when they pay into them with pain, shame, or pride. The dragonborn see it as a noble duty, and the children of Targe are nothing if not inclined to martyrdom. The rest of the town looks up to that, most days, and curries favor or honor by offering up a small tax for a greater good. Its a devious trap of light and friendship," Orion says as he taps his finger on his hand. He has been witness to it and knows the darker side.
"You know that narrative false, though, yes," Jarvis states, "knowing that this place is not generations old as they think."
"Aye, that I do. I also have a good idea who built something so sinister," Orion looks at Jarvis.
"Gig," the dwarf says.
"Gig," the prisoner nods, "and he is here now. Terms of our deal."
"You made a deal with that Devil? Are you mad?" Orion barks. He has been tempted in the past to bring a dear friend back, but the old dwarf knows that all things come with a price and it was not something he was willing to pay.
"Desperate," Jarvis corrects, "and I fear that my family may seek him out if bold plans require bolder measures. I must get out and let them know there is a better way."
"is there a better way," Orion grumps, "not that I want to deal with 'him' again, but false hope is just as foolish an errand."
"Wait," Jarvis states, "does Faron still have his dagger?"
"Demonsbane? No it passed a number of hands. The last person that held it was Poppy when Poppy was Gig's herald," Orion says, the old man's eyes lighting up, "And Poppy is here!"
"Gig would create a loophole. We may have found it," Jarvis claps his hands, "Where is she? Who is she?"
"Pauline," Orion says, "she helps run Fabian's store. It is closed now, at night." Hopping off his stool he goes to the cell. "It would unfortunate if a criminal escaped while a senile old dwarf fell asleep. Worse yet if he broke into the store and found that dagger, stole it, and saved us from this dream." The door unlocks. "Mmm, and this tea. It makes me pretty sleepy." Walking away the old man finds his old chair and his old desk. They still fit. He reclines in the chair itself and closes his eyes.
"Thank you, Orion," the man whispers as he gathers his goods, drawing the hood of his cloak up high over his face.
"Don't find an anticlimactic end after all of this hard work," Orion mumbles as he tries to force himself into a nap. At his age and in his condition it comes easier than he would ever admit.