Harvest, p.1
Harvest, page 1
HARVEST
LEGENDARY FARMER
BOOK FIVE
ELIZABETH OSWALD
Copyright © 2022 Elizabeth Oswald
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.
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Print book ISBN 978-1-7376510-8-6
Ebook ISBN 978-1-7376510-9-3
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First edition, November 2022
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and individuals either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For you. If you’re reading this, I appreciate you more than you know. Thank you for being a reader, for enjoying my books, and for giving me the chance to fulfill a dream I never thought would become a reality. You’re amazing.
Book Five: Harvest
har·vest /ˈhärvəst/ noun
noun: harvest; plural noun: harvests
the process or period of gathering in crops.
the product or result of an action.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
A Note From The Author
CHAPTER ONE
ASPEN
The ragged line of the caravan wended its way through the steep hills of the narrow pass through the Whispering Mountains. As each battered wagon crested the last hill and saw the small shack surrounded by verdant fields that lay ahead of them, they paused noticeably. Some, likely buoyed by the idea of simply being able to stop and rest, picked up their pace until they nearly bumped into the carriage before. Others, perhaps disheartened by the realization that this was it, and they were going to have to build absolutely everything from scratch, slowed down, lingering in that gray area between fear and knowledge.
Aspen watched this process with a heart equally full of frustration and foreboding. He wanted to be able to race down to the farm, like Rouge, but he had responsibilities only he could handle. If a wheel or an axle broke, his mage smithing could fix it more easily than any tinker. If an animal came up lame, he could heal it more quickly than Restur, the caravan master, who had taken Healer as a secondary class, and was much more limited in what he could do. Plus, though he and Rouge had told the refugees what to expect, at least in a general way, he needed to be there when the two groups came together, in case there was trouble when the new immigrants met the current residents.
What he could do now, however, was communicate.
He repeated this refrain so many times that he nearly missed it when Khor, Greater War Goat and Aspen’s soul-bound companion, finally responded.
Aspen chuckled at the familiar acerbic tone of the Greater Goat’s mental voice.
Instead, once he realized Manuela had been abducted, Aspen had gone to North Goose, where he had rescued his friend almost accidentally. After that, they had to go to Bright, where they found that things had taken a dark turn, and the city had fallen under the control of the cult of the evil God, Apofis, who was kidnapping and murdering people of non-human heritage. When they finally did manage to flee the city, they brought nearly a hundred refugees and their families with them, and found and rescued even more on their way through the tiny hamlet of Filial.
Aspen was trying to think of a way to explain all this in a succinct manner when Khor, in his usual brusque fashion, plowed on.
Aspen looked over toward the huge, colorful tree, which was almost as wide as it was tall, and could just make out the distinctive black and white form of Codswallop, which meant one of the other figures there should be Rouge.
Khor grunted.
Aspen’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.
Was that…respect Aspen heard? Certainly, he’d never known Khor to back down from a fight with anyone.
The single word told Aspen enough. He hissed a concerned breath in through his teeth. He had known Sumi since her mother gave her to him at the direct request of his Goddess at the time, Atae, and he had seen this many times. When the spider molted, she was completely defenseless and unconscious for a minimum of a week, and possibly as long as a month.
Aspen winced. There was a wealth of sarcasm in Khor’s voice, and Aspen knew it was well-earned. They were much later than they should have been, and the Tree’s fruits had obviously ripened some time ago. Aspen was supposed to eat the first fruit of the Tree, or he would lose all the fruits (ha!) of the boon his new Goddess, Gina, had granted him to help him grow strong enough to survive what seemed like everyone in the world constantly trying to kill him. Gina had warned them that monsters and wild beasts alike would seek out the fruit and the Tree itself, which was why Aspen had left Khor and Sumi, his best fighter and his best strategist, behind to protect it.
Again, he found himself struggling with how to explain his long absence.
Khor huffed again, and Aspen could picture the eight-foot-tall goat angrily chewing his cud.
Silence.
A puff of dust rose from near the small building that Aspen called home, and grew larger as it came closer. Khor’s bulky shape became visible within that cloud when he was about a quarter mile away, and Aspen had just enough presence of mind to tug his new hat down over his eyes, and pull up the piece of cloth he’d started wearing around his neck to give Silus, The Greater Bat he was fortunate enough to have as a friend and companion, somewhere to snuggle now that she was too big to hide between his throat and shirt collar.
Khor’s hooves dug gouges in the soft dirt road as he slid to a stop next to the wagon. His rectangular pupils focused on Aspen, and three-foot long spiral horns shook as he tried to settle the enormous duck who was clinging tenaciously to Khor’s forelock with his beak.
Out of respect for Restur, who was sitting beside Aspen as he drove the lead wagon, and who had probably never seen a war goat before, judging by the blank expression on his wrinkled face, Aspen switched to speaking aloud. “Is that Nuisance?”
Khor gave his head one more shake, and the twenty-pound bird on his head flopped into place between his horns. It was a much tighter fit than it had been when Aspen left, and the base of the horns were all but lost in fluffy feathers. It was all Aspen could do to restrain his amusement, which he knew would not be appreciated by his old friend.
Aspen shook his head, but his smile was hidden behind the face cloth that he left in place as the dust settled. “How is everyone?”
“Nekthadt? He’s here?” Aspen felt a flood of relief. Nekthadt was a goblin he and Rouge had helped escape from Bloodhaven. He and his friend, a young glyphis child named Jesiqa, had been hunted by a c
When Nekthadt left to seek Jesiqa’s family, Aspen had already been able to feel the spirit of the glyphis child fading. He had bolstered it as much as he could with his healing magic, but he had been truly worried that the little shark-girl would die before Nekthadt was able to find other members of her extremely rare race, Since the goblin had all but given up on his own life, Aspen had also worried what might happen to the man if Jesiqa didn’t make it.
Khor rolled his eyes.
By Aspen’s count, that made four, which was hardly enough to qualify as a gaggle, and Aspen was grateful again for the mask covering his smile. Just wait until Khor saw all of the children Aspen had brought with him.
Once Restur’s initial startlement at Khor’s abrupt arrival was over, the caravan master had kept the wagons moving. They were past the high foothills now, and though the ground rolled in gentle hills, they were able to move much more quickly.
Aspen could just make out the short, olive-green and blue figure of Sarave now. The goblin woman stood in the doorway of the house, wiping her hands on the faded apron she wore over her pretty blue dress. Her black hair lay in a heavy black braid over her shoulder, gleaming like silk in the sunlight. A broad smile spread across her triangular face, and while he knew many sharp teeth behind it, he found that the thought no longer bothered him.
Beside Sarave stood a goblin man, his skin a much healthier shade of lime green than when Aspen had last seen him. Nekthadt wore a brown leather patch over his missing eye, and his cheeks and body were closer to standard goblin-lankiness rather than hollow and starved. His sister had clearly been feeding him well.
Then Juniper came into sight. She was riding Kayli, one of the two Lesser Unicorns who lived on the farm, and sparkles lit the air behind the two as they galloped toward the house. Close behind them was Kayti, whose mane, tail, and horn were wrapped in gleaming rainbow-hues, though the rest of her fur was as pearly white as her sister’s. Kayti had always been the shyer and more cautious of the two unicorns, so Aspen wasn’t surprised to see that she was assessing the situation before charging in.
As they drew nearer, the drake atop Khor’s head let out a resounding call, and eleven half-grown ducklings scurried out of the barn, followed by three furry creatures with long necks and sweet faces beneath ridiculously long, velvety ears. As more and more creatures piled out of the barn that had seemed so large when Aspen built it, he wondered if they actually slept on top of each other, or if they had somehow created a magical bonus space behind the double doors.
“What are those?” Aspen managed, pointing to the furry creatures, who looked back, placidly blinking large brown eyes.
Aspen nearly choked, but managed to hold in his laugh. “The vicuña, I guess?”
Restur was looking very interested, and now he spoke with studied nonchalance. “I wondered if that was what those were. I’ve heard of them, but never seen one before. They’re supposed to live on the highest, most distant peaks of the Whispering Mountains, and their wool is one of the finest in the world. If you can get a proper herd going, you could make a good profit on it as luxury trade goods, though you need a Journeyman or higher Weaver to work it. Duck eggs are good eating, too.”
The canny old trader turned a considering eye on the shaggy little unicorns. “Never heard of unicorn wool, but if those little ones will let you give them a bit of a haircut each spring, well-”
Khor was glaring at Restur.
As if on cue, all the older children in the caravan – who had been trapped in one of the largest wagons together with Plum and Amanda, the teacher from Filial – poured out as the wagons finally rolled to a halt. The adults weren’t far behind, and the rising voices were filled with mingled relief and concern. They had been told that there were no houses or buildings waiting for them, but the reality of the single ramshackle farmhouse surrounded by lonely fields, however abundant, was a bit overwhelming.
Then the children saw the animals. With shrieks of glee, they raced toward the vicuña and the unicorns. Kayti and the vicuña backed away hurriedly, but Juniper urged Kayli forward, and soon the little unicorn was being patted and stroked by more than a dozen admirers. Little glints of glitter seemed to hover in the air around her after each touch, and soon the children were vying to see who could produce the greatest shower of sparkles.
Aspen, Plum, and Sarave waded in at the same time, each of them firmly urging children to step back, and explaining that they had to be gentle and careful. Then Peri, the golden zebra, Cavi, the guinea-pig squirrel, and Polly, the anteater-bird appeared. These strange creatures were among the prisoners Aspen and his friends had rescued from the horrific laboratory hidden in the lair of the cultists in Bright, and Aspen had no idea what they might have been before they had been experimented upon.
Peri was cavorting happily, glad to be out of the confines of the wagon in which it had had to ride, since it was too small to keep up otherwise. Cavi watched everything with its usual phlegmatic expression, though its excitement was given away by the rapid flicking of its fluffy tail. Polly, as usual, seemed to be looking around for Rouge. It was only really happy when it was near the girl. Rouge had explained that her Fowl Trickster class got a boost to affinity with birds, and apparently Polly was ‘close enough’.
Sighing, Aspen looked around. The peaceful reunion he’d been longing for was obviously not going to happen, so he just tugged down the mask he’d almost forgotten was covering his lower face and turned to Sarave. Carefully, he offered her his hand, well aware that though she had come a long way since he’d met her when she was pregnant and dying, she had still been a little wary and fragile when he left for the south.
Without hesitation, she laid her small, slim hand in his much-larger one, and smiled back. “Welcome home, Aspen-na.” Her gentle voice lilted with the odd accent she’d had since before he met her, and he felt his shoulders relax, and his smile grow more genuine.
Nekthadt, who was hovering protectively beside his sister, one hand on a short dagger at his waist, looked sharply at Sarave, then back at Aspen. After a moment, he bowed his head and muttered, “Hello again, Lord Aspen.”
Reluctantly, Aspen released the small, calloused hand he held, and turned to offer his to Nekthadt instead. “Ned,” he said, well aware that the goblin didn’t particularly care for the nickname Rouge had given him without his consent.
To Aspen’s surprise, the goblin just looked resigned and clasped Aspen’s forearm firmly. He tilted his head toward his half-human niece and smiled a little. The expression looked strange on his rough, scarred features. “Uncle Ned now,” he murmured, and Aspen nearly laughed at the affectionate resignation in his tone. Clearly, being reunited had been good for both of the goblin siblings.
