“I was afraid you’d say that,” Gregos said, dredging up a chunk of iron with no refined shape. He held it up in the air above him to study. “Fine, but count me in.”
In disbelief, Kilena stammered, “You- you want to be part of the fight against Ivna?”
“Do you really think I’d let you go into a fight like that without my help?” He lowered his hand, and tossed the iron into the forge. “I’ll talk to the other giants, too. You can count all of us on your side.”
The knight’s smile brightened to shimmer in her sapphire eyes. “Thank you, Gregos!”
“Drix, Crex, Trax. Over here. Dragon, you too,” Gregos curtly ordered.
The three imps scampered out from behind their trees toward the giant’s forge, each of them readily taking their places. Drix grabbed the handle of bellows attached to the coal forge. He raise it up above his head, then pressed down until the flexible bag was entirely compressed, forcing out air that fanned the coals for a higher heat. Holding a pair of tongs in both hands, Crex waited for the iron to reach the perfect color for forging, and then carried it to Gregos’s anvil.
Arms crossed, Targath asked, “Where do you get all that metal?”
“The imps, my friends,” he gravelly replied, and then grunted as he swung his hammer down. Striking hard against the iron, scale flaked off it was flattened. “The mines around here are why I refuse leave. The ground is rich in deposits of the best ore. Before that I was gathering it on my own as needed. Now I have a stockpile to make as much as I want.” The next strike was gentler, tapping at the edges to form a shape.
“That’s an awful small chunk of metal to make a sword from,” the fey remarked observantly.
“I’m not making a sword. I’m making a handle, and I can complete this faster if you step back,” Gregos curtly advised.
Targath held his hands out to his sides, and stepped out of the way.
“Trax, I need you three to grind the dragon’s claw down to a manageable size for a dagger.”
“Trax is on it,” the imp acknowledged, and then lopsidedly waddled toward Utiss.
Kilena followed, uncertain and worried, to oversee the process. “Is this going to hurt you?”
“No,” Utiss replied. “There is no man made weapon that can remove my claw, so I must remove it and give it willingly. When taken by force, yes, the experience is painful, but a claw given with consent is harmless,” Utiss reassured.
“Claw please,” Trax said impatiently.
Utiss sat on her haunches and raised her left paw from the ground toward her separated maw. Using careful precision, she situated a claw along the left side of her jagged teeth, and bit down with immense force. Her jaw muscles clenched with the force applied, and then a crack like breaking bone sent a jolt through everyone. Kilena felt a terrible chill flit through her spine, and watched Utiss spit the severed claw into Trax’s open and waiting hands.
“Thank you,” the imp said, turning to carry the claw away.
Utiss waved the toes of her left paw, adjusting to the sensations of a missing claw.
Concerned, Kilena asked, “Will it grow back?”
“Yes, in time, but not to worry. My remaining claws are more than enough to terrorize our enemies.”
Kilena softly smiled. Any unease over selfishly taking her friend’s claw for defense ebbing away.
She returned to the giant’s work station, standing back while she marveled at their efforts. Trax dropped the claw into the forge, and Drix pumped the bellows as fast as his little arms could move. Crex picked up a leather pouch from beside the forge and reached inside, rummaging around with three fingers.
“Don’t use all of it,” Gregos cautioned, piquing Kilena’s curiosity.
Crex’s hand emerged, and tossed a handful of powder onto the fire and the severed claw.
Kilena held her breath.
All at once the coals on the forge raged with bright white flame, and Trax waited a few minutes for the claw to roast. All three
The only way the imps were able to refine the claw was by burning the outsider layer until it was black, which softened the interior, making it After whittling down the outside layer of the claw and lessening the depth of the curve to a finer point, the edges sharpened, Gregos heated the reverse tang he forged into the handle
Trax and Crex used tongs to lift the claw out of the fire once the outside was charred black. Moving in unison, they carried it over to the grindstone that was designed for use by their giant friend and was larger than both of them. Drix jumped on the pedal to spin the large and smaller cylindrical stones, while Trax and Crex maneuvered the claw against the stone to grind away the softened bone.
From the grindstone and back to the forge, Kilena watched as the imps gradually whittled away layers to thin out the material and altered the curved shape into two symmetrical sides. The outer bone of the claw was shaved away to reach the tough core. At the same time, the grinding stones shrank in circumference from the durability of the dragon claw. Gregos completed his work on the iron, forging a hilt with a curved hand guard, which was then fused with the iron that Gregos shaped by hammering the metal into the claw while it was white hot, forming an unbreakable connection.
The entire length of the dagger spanned from the tip of the giant’s middle finger to the heel of his palm when he offered the completed product to Kilena.
“That was impressive work,” Targath commented, scanning the refined edges of the spear-tipped blade.
“Thank you so much, Gregos,” Kilena earnestly exclaimed, fitting her hand into the forged finger wells of the handle designed to accommodate her slender hands.
“I won’t accept payment,” Gregos gruffly iterated, waving his now empty hand. “You’re going off to fight a battle for the fate of Draconiam with an unpredictable outcome. It’s the least I can do to arm you well enough to defend yourself. I’ll speak with the other giants. Send Utiss back here in ten days for an update.”
“I will,” Kilena responded solemnly. She slid the dagger between her armor and the belt at her waist where it was squeezed in place, and then stepped toward Gregos with her arms spread wide.
His eyes shot open when her slender arms embraced as much of his rotund waist as possible. He patted the knight gently on her back, and then she felt smaller hands start patting her as well. The imps had gathered around her, forming a group hug to bid her farewell. “Just do me a favor and take care of yourself,” he grunted.
Reversing her steps, Kilena moved away from Gregos and his helpers. She leaned back and looked all the way up at his face. “I will do that, and with more allies comes more strength, so I make my way to begin that quest.”
“Good luck, Kilena,” Gregos replied, waving farewell.
“Bye, Kilena,” Trax called, enthusiastically waving his arm in the air alongside his friends.
Drix bounced from one foot to the other and shouted, “I’ll miss you!”
“Hey, I’ll miss her, too,” argued Crex.
“Please behave for Gregos,” Kilena called, and then pivoted, marching away from the giant’s forge.
With the giant and his imp apprentices behind them, Targath looked contemplatively down toward Kilena and asked, “How do you do it?”
The nescience knight asked, “Do what?”
“Make friends with imps and a giant. Get a weapon for free. The work Gregos just did, with the resources, is easily worth five hundred gold,” he retorted impatiently. “Maybe half that since you supplied the dragon claw, but still. You have some sort of spell over people.”
Kilena giggled. “There is no spell, Targath. I was more than willing to hand over every last gold, silver, and copper in my possession, and anything else I could part with if necessary. Gregos repaid my kindness, and did what he felt was right. He placed his faith in me, and for that I feel stronger,” she said with resolve. “I cannot fail.”
Targath paused, glancing over his shoulder. He locked his gaze on her, watching her move ahead. He followed, his strides a bit slower to compensate for the difference between their leg lengths. “You truly are a mystery,” he sighed in exasperation. “Where do plan to start your campaign?”
Shaking her head, she asked, “How do I decide where to begin?”
“There is one place,” he said, flashing an arrogant smirk. “You may still have some influence.”
Kilena’s brow furrowed contemplatively. “Where would that be?”
Targath squinted skeptically at the side of her head. “You already know the answer to that question.”
“If I did, I would not have asked,” she countered with a smile.
Rolling his eyes, he laid the verbal breadcrumbs to lead her to the answer. “Start where you have the most influence, the place you were a knight. Judge their reception. Use it as practice,” he said after rolling his eyes.
“Certainly not,” Kilena objected, slicing her hand through the air. “There is a reason I am no longer part of the Iron Rose and no longer call Roselake home.”
“If there is, you failed to mention it to me,” Targath retorted, mildly insulted.
Hiding a chuckle behind her smile, she apologized. “It was not my intention to leave you in the dark, the topic never came up between us before.”
She elaborated on the tale in detail, beginning with her father. Sigmund was high commander of the Iron Rose, and the reason she became knighted. After he died, Sedrik was promoted and challenged Kilena to kill the dragon living in the Roselake mountain because the king’s council blamed him for the famine they endured at the time. That confrontation with Frineer was when she first discovered her ability to speak with dragons, and she learned he was not feeding on Roselake’s livestock. “When I returned, Sedrik ridiculed me in front of the order until they all laughed at my embarrassment. He forced me to remove my coat of arms in front of everyone. Being a knight was all I ever wanted, and after losing Papa-.” Kilena’s voice broke. Her lips thinned, head bowed, and she swallowed hard. “I cried in front of them, which only brought further shame upon me. My reputation is tarnished, and they will refuse to hear me.”
Targath brought his boot down, crunching dried leaves as he halted altogether. Kilena noticed the absence of his footsteps, and stopped a pace ahead to face him. Finding his eyes tense and lips thinned flat, her eyebrows knitted together. His left hand curled into a fist, at the complaint of his leather glove, confirming this was his way of showing deep anger. Then the bright center of his golden eyes shifted directly to her face. His right arm raised, hand drawing steadily closer to her face before diverting its course to grasp her shoulder. The volume of his voice was low, his mouth turned down in a frown, but his tone was rock steady. “You go higher than Sedrik and use your father’s legacy as leverage to make them listen,” he urged, his fingers squeezing her armored shoulder to feed his conviction. “Make them hear your accomplishments and convince them to go to battle with you.”
Trailing along behind them, Utiss paused along side the rogue and knight facing one another. Her mouth widened into a tender grin as her emerald eyes looked between the two, settling on Kilena. “You might be hesitant to face him, but Targath is right. You were noble, Kilena, honest and true. You cannot run from your fears forever.”
Courage ascended from her heart, threading conviction through her sapphire eyes. Kilena dipped her head curtly, responding to Targath’s resolve and Utiss’s encouragement. “Targath, will you help me face these fears?”
“Of course, I want to have a talk with Sedrik,” he casually replied, hand slipping away from her shoulder.
Bewildered, she asked, “Why? Did you have an arrangement with him?”
The deadly scowl on his face was unmistakable, and he marched onward. “I do now.”
Kilena Shrelack 