Eight of Hearts: The Rift Blade - Book 1

Chapter 6

Bryce recovered from his embarrassment quickly, as the villagers paraded him around, shouting and cheering. He was in his element, graciously reenacting his heroism for everyone who asked for it--though without speaking their language, he could only assume. But cheers and applause were languages he knew very well. They now gathered in what was a tavern or restaurant, which doubled as a public meeting place.

"Fruashye tye ehyeruou, emeune entyemouen jezth!" came the crowd's cheer.

Bryce put his fists on his hips, striking a heroic pose for them. "That's right! Who's the best?!"

"Entyemouen yenent, jruai vye!" the villagers answered.

Bryce climbed onto a table to better be seen by everyone. "You're right, I am the best! No one in this town is as awesome as me!"

A couple village girls waved to him, and he winked back. He mimed drawing an arrow and nocked it to an invisible bow.

The villagers started chanting something in their hissing and bubbling speech, building in volume with each repetition. "Ehyeruou rewye jouru vye! Ehyeruou rewye jouru vye!"

Bryce held his arms up, basking in the adoration that poured from every direction. "You know what? We should have a party," he said, pleased with his own brilliant idea.

Colonel's voice boomed out loudly, silencing the commotion. "A party sounds like a good idea! I'm afraid it will have to wait until tomorrow, though." He addressed the villagers in their own language: "Ehyeruou ruyesk jouru veuru. Teunep cheurem rwewye."

Bryce watched in disappointment as the villagers left him and Colonel alone. Bryce jumped down from the table, landing smoothly next to him. Colonel sat down in the chair, and motioned to the seat across from him. Bryce considered arguing until the big man, but changed his mind quickly as Colonel set about cleaning his rifle with a rag.

They sat in awkward silence for a while. Colonel was still cleaning his rifle when finally he spoke; "What do you think you are doing, son?" he asked sternly.

Bryce rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair. "They think I'm a hero. I'm not going to argue with them. It's about time I got some respect anyway."

Colonel glared at Bryce, not pausing in his work. "You think you've earned a bit of glory, do you?"

Bryce smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Earned it? Where I come from, it practically falls out of the sky. You wouldn't believe the money, the fame, the girls--"

Colonel slammed his cleaning cloth on the table, making Bryce jump. "You're a fool, and likely to be a dead one soon enough. That's all chasing glory ever gets a man."

Bryce stared in shock at Colonel as he resumed his work. He wasn't used to being confronted so boldly by strangers, no matter where he was.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, irritated.

Colonel sighed, setting aside his rag as he turned to Bryce, speaking in a very serious tone; "Fame and glory are like the sun. Think of Icarus, who flew beyond his own limits, or Phaeton, who ignored his father's instructions and nearly burned the earth to cinders. They sought a glory they couldn't master, and in the end it destroyed them." He put a finger to Bryce's chest. "Fame and glory won't win you true respect. They only last until the next rising star appears, and the things you sacrificed to win them will never come back."

Bryce listened attentively for the first time since he'd found himself in this desert village. The passion in Colonel's voice was powerful and irrefutable.