Free The Hearts of Dragons by Josh VanBrakle

stories declare
Lefts invincible,” Balear reminded them. “One dying here was enough for the
village to declare the site cursed. No one will resettle these lands as long as
memory of him remains.” Balear paused and worked his reins. “Iren, I don’t know
what you expect to find, but eighteen years is a long time. Don’t hope for
much.”
    Iren couldn’t bring
himself to respond. This place was all he had. He could do nothing but hope.
    At last the trio topped
a small rise and saw the farm. Rather, they saw what was left of it. A single
ivy-covered building stood before them. A pile of rubble next to it indicated
the vestiges of another structure, demolished by the same plants that had used
it to climb.
    Racing ahead of the
others, Iren leapt off his horse and ran to the remaining building. He felt
along the vines and found a trace of stone underneath them. A fervor took him,
and he ripped at the ivy with all his strength.
    The task was brutal, and
before long, sweat cascaded off him. He stepped back to check his progress.
He’d only cleared a few square feet. Snarling, he drew the Muryozaki and
readied to slash at the ivy, but Balear rushed forward and grabbed him.
    “Calm down!” Balear
shouted.
    Iren spun around in
Balear’s grip, brandishing the Muryozaki. His expression was savage.
    “Those vines are all
that’s holding up this relic,” Hana said. “If you collapse the place, what good
will your long journey have been?”
    Iren fumed, but he knew
she was right. He stared at the ivy with futility. “I have to get in there.”
    “And we will,” Hana
continued, “but let’s do it carefully. Come over here.” She gestured to another
side of the house. “You’re tearing at the wrong spot. You’ve been ripping at a
side wall. If you want to get in without destroying the place, then I think
there’s what used to be a porch over here. Where there’s a porch, there’s a
door. Sheathe your sword. We’ll help you pull down enough vines to get inside.”
    Balear nodded so
frantically that Iren relented. Putting away the Muryozaki, he joined the
others at what Hana claimed was a former porch. It was hard to tell that it
used to be anything, but the vines did stick out farther here than anywhere
else on the structure.
    The sun crossed more
than half the sky by the time the trio cleared enough ivy to expose the home’s
door. Iren grabbed the rusted handle. It refused to unlatch. He pulled on it,
and it ripped apart in his hand.
    “I’ve come so far!” Iren
yelled. “I won’t be stopped by a half-rotten door!” Stepping back to gain
momentum, he slammed into the door with a shoulder charge.
    The punky wood gave way
immediately. Caught by surprise, Iren fell into the house. His landing sent a
cloud of dust into the air.
    Hana and Balear each
grabbed one of Iren’s legs and dragged him back outside. He coughed and
spluttered as he wiped off his clothes. “Well, that worked,” he said. He looked
through the open doorway, but the dust was so thick it was like peering into
fog.
    They waited several
minutes for the air to clear, and then they entered the house. They moved
cautiously, trying to avoid stirring up another cloud.
    With each step, Iren’s
eyes grew wider. “This is where they lived,” he murmured. It was a simple
structure with just two rooms. The floor was dirt, and the only furniture in
this room was a pair of rocking chairs. When Iren touched one, he put his hand
through the armrest without trying.
    The most striking
feature was the stone fireplace against one wall. It alone seemed in good
shape. The vines hadn’t grown inside the building, so the mantle’s stone and
mortar remained intact. Metal pots and pans hung around it, long since rusted.
    It was so familiar, yet
so foreign. Iren passed through the living area into the home’s other room.
There he found a dresser, a double bed, and a sight that made tears well in his
eyes.
    Next to the bed was a
rough-hewn crib. Iren placed his