Targath at her side and Utiss close behind, a hammer rhythmically clanging against metal guided Kilena through the woods. Silence briefly visited between each strike, absent of calling birds or noisy insects. Clouds reigned in the sky above, greyfo and gloomy with the threat of rain.
Trees became more sparse the deeper they traveled into the woods. Grass grew plentifully between fallen, dehydrated leaves that disintegrated and crunched under foot. A chill drifted over Kilena’s exposed skin. Pale grey fog swept in on a breeze, gradually growing thicker and obscuring her sight in every direction.
“I’m not feeling very welcomed right now,” Targath commented, a hand creeping toward his dagger.
“Stand still with me, and listen,” Kilena advised, words hushed, and ensnared Targath’s wrist. His fingers ghosted the hilt of his weapon.
As the fog grew thicker, the beating hammer decreased in volume until it vanished altogether.
Utiss stretched her wings and waved them up and down to create a draft, but the dense fog clung to the air unabated. She folded her wings again, squinting to see. Moisture twinkled inside the fog, microscopic crystals catching the sunlight that tried to permeate the fog. Her breath formed condensation when she next exhaled.
Deafened and muted, the loss of sight and sound hindered the trio. Targath‘s joints stiffened, like ice adhered directly to his bones, making him shiver. Feeling his body freeze from the inside out as if death itself had come to claim him all at once. A bitter, increasingly painful sensation as his blood turned to slush. He listened to his knight companion shiver, her teeth chattering and armor rattling.
“It’s Kilena,” shouted a high-pitched, whiny voice, breaking the all consuming silence.
The fog rushed away following a sharp finger snap. Warmth returned all at once, thawing out the two without protective scales, and the distant hammering returned.
Bounding toward them were three creatures no taller than Kilena’s waist. Varying in shades of light browns to dark greens, they had broad, oval shaped heads, and wide, bulbous eyes with vertical slits for pupils.
The tension that had gripped Targath’s torso diffused, shoulders sinking, and the hand ready to draw his dagger fell back to his side. “Great. Imps,” he groaned under his breath, glancing between them.
The wood imps gathered in front of Kilena, bouncing back and forth on scrawny legs. Clawed, three-fingered hands raised up in the air as they giggled with sinister glee. “Kilena’s back!”
“Kilena’s here!”
Kilena giggled along with them, but hers was soft and warm. She took a knee in front of them, arms spread wide, and as they clambered in around her she hugged them. “Look at all of you. Drix, Crex, Trax. Are you helping Gregos now?”
“Yes,” Drix answered, his elongated ears perking up.
“Wonderful, that makes me happy,” Kilena said with a kind smile. She patted Drix on the top of his broad skull, ruffling his scraggly, straw like hair that spilled out from under a pointed, grey cap. “Would you take me to see him, please?”
“Of course. Crex is happy Kilena came back,” Crex exclaimed, wrapping all three fingers around Kilena’s wrist. He turned to lead the way, his cloak of leaves rustling as he waddled.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re friends with them, but I am,” Targath remarked, striding along side Kilena.
“Should I not be? They mean no harm,” Kilena replied, head tilted to look at him. “A little mischievous at times, but sweet, like troublesome children.”
“Trax sorry we attacked friend,” said the third imp with bright green eyes. He wore a tattered, brown cloak, and his gait was lopsided, walking with a cane. Throwing his arm into the air for emphasis, he explained, “We saw only big scary dark man at first.”
Targath chuckled derisively. “That must be me.” A moment later, frustration replaced his bitter amusement. He snapped his index finger behind him to point, and shouted, “But there’s a dragon!”
“When we saw Kilena we knew scary dark man and dragon are friends, too,” Drix exclaimed in a scratchy voice, following along steadily.
Kilena was guided to a clearing, the steady banging of the hammer increasing in volume. A forge built out of stone emanated warmth and spewed smoke out of a chimney. A ten foot tall man slouched over a large anvil. The head of the hammer was as large as his fist clutching the thick, wooden handle.
“Wow, Gregos. This is a dramatic change from the last time I visited you,” Kilena greeted warmly. Crex released her wrist, and the three imps scuttled off behind her, babbling between themselves.
“My little friends have been quite helpful, if you can be patient with the pranks they like to play,” Gregos answered, his words drawn out and tone robust.
“They seem quite excited to help you, and that is very sweet of them.”
Gregos raised his hammer and let the shaft drop on to his shoulder. “Who are your new friends, Kilena?”
Hearing some giggling from behind her, Kilena peered over her shoulder. Crex climbed on top of the Utiss, then jumped up and down. Trax spread out her wings and curiously examined the thin membrane. Drix dipped under the dragon’s underside and tickled Utiss until she rolled onto her back. Kilena grinned in amusement. “Utiss, the child of the god dragon Synu,” she introduced, while Utiss was chortling and roaring with laughter.
“By Garreth,” Gregos exclaimed under his breath, letting his hammer tap and rest against the anvil. The iron he worked on the anvil faded from a vibrant orange to dull grey.
“I rescued her from a sorceress,” she briefly explained, and then gestured toward the cursed elf standing vigilantly beside her. “This is Targath, my newest companion, determined to keep me out of trouble.”
Targath crossed his arms and curtly nodded. “Pleasure.”
“You do keep some unusual company, myself included,” Gregos commented, holding out his large hand.
Targath arched his brow, then extended his hand for the giant’s five massive fingers to envelope. The strength behind that one shake was enough to tug his shoulder toward the ground before he caught his balance. “You know, for being a frost giant you don’t live in a very cold climate, and you’re short,” he pointed out, withdrawing his hand.
“I’m surprised a curse elf crawled out of his dark cave to protect such a pure heart,” Gregos gruffly retorted, wrinkled eyes thinning.
“Oh, I like him,” Targath said with a smirk. The giant gave a hearty laugh, his rotund stomach jiggling up and down. “We’re here because we need something.”
“Slow down, Targath. I was hoping to ask Gregos if he knew anything about Ivna and Amodeus,” the knight gently interrupted.
The laughter and friendly warmth in the air rushed away. A cold, dark expression dominated Gregos’s hooded, grey eyes. “Kilena, you really do not want to get mixed up with them,” the giant cautioned.
“I have no choice,” Kilena insisted.
“Yes, you do. I have already felt a change in the air. My friends have been talking about it. Ivna is gathering old allies. The best thing for you to do is go home,” he firmly advised.
“It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one who thinks that,” Targath remarked, loosely crossing his arms over his vest. “Unfortunately, Kilena truly does not have a choice.”
Gregos slammed his hammer down on his anvil with outrage. “And why not?”
The imps playing with Utiss scattered into the trees, and she rolled from her back to her paws. Utiss observed the unfolding tension with concern.
Kilena’s voice was like a twittering bird in the wake of thunder. “I am dragonkin.”
Gregos’s expression soured, and he picked up his hammer to drop it on his shoulder. “I have no reason to believe you would lie to me, Kilena, but I refuse to accept this.”
“It is true, Gregos. Can you understand me?”
“Yes,” Gregos responded, his glare fiery as it fixed on Utiss.
Targath grumbled, “Great, now I’m the only one who doesn’t.”
“Kilena, tell Gregos these words. Tell him that I said Ivna gave birth to a brood of her own, and that you felled one of them.”
“Ivna gave birth to a brood of her own, and I felled one of them,” Kilena repeated.
Gregos’s eyes widened, exposing their pale color. His shoulders sank along with his head along the natural slouch of his neck. “You are not bound to the same oath as the dragonkin were.”
“Yes, I am. It may not be the very same, but I took an oath as a knight to defend the weak,” she insisted with determination.
“You are not bound by that oath either, if I must remind you,” the giant said, waving his hammer in Kilena’s direction.
“I won’t let you stand there and tell Kilena what she can and can’t do when she won’t even listen to me about it,” Targath interrupted, a thread of irritation in his voice. Clenching a fist, he cooled his temper. “Either you can help her by forging a weapon with a dragon claw, or you can leave her defenseless against vampires.”
Gregos regarded the cursed elf’s fist, then Kilena. “Is that what this is about?”
“Yes,” she admitted, torso deflating with an exhale of resignation. “The Amulet of Shielding warded them off once, but that item was stolen from me by Amodeus. Whether I rise to my destiny or not, it will chase me anywhere I go.”
Gregos shook his head slowly from one side to the other. He grabbed the worked iron on the anvil and moved it aside. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
Kilena lightly laughed. “I rescued Utiss and slayed the evil sorceress that held her captive. I saved Warchester from vampires. I was captured, taken to the Crooked Crusaders, then saved by Targath.”
“And those are just the highlights,” Targath added with a scoff, twisting to tap his elbow against Kilena’s armored shoulder.
She nodded to agree, briefly displaying a timid smile. “Amodeus is already influencing them, including my brother. The vampires are hunting me as well, so it is imperative I have a weapon capable of defending against them until I can retrieve the amulet. Will you do that for me please? Utiss has offered to give a claw, and I am prepared to pay you for your time. It would mean a lot to me.”
Gregos critically analyzed Kilena, seconds dragging out for eternity. He turned from her, approaching a collection of forgeable iron near a colossal furnace. “What is your goal now?” The metal clinked as he sifted through the available smelted iron shaped into bars. He tossed pieces aside pieces in his search for a particular size.
Kilena observed the giant’s meticulous process of choosing metal, and resolutely answered, “To gather allies from across all of Draconiam, and defeat Ivna for good this time.”
Kilena Shrelack 