“Tiny?” protested Stitch, “It’s nearly as big as my hand! Look at it! It’s just waiting for me to reach for that mallet so it can sink its fangs into me!”
“Then squish it with a different mallet and it won’t be able to!”
“What! You mean kill it? I’m not going to kill it! It hasn’t done anything.” He paused, “Alright, it probably would given half a chance, but you can’t just kill the thing for something it might do!”
Ballorn sighed and lowered his head as he walked toward Stitch. Leaning down, he eyed the spider, “’Scuse me,” he said as he flicked it away, “Work to do.” Looking over at Stitch, he pointed at the mallet, “Happy now?” he asked. Stitch nodded. “Good!” said Ballorn with another sigh. “Perhaps we can get this finished. Now, the mallet if you would be so kind.”
“But, you’re right by it. Why don’t you just pick it up?”
“Because you’re the apprentice, and I said that it was what you would need for us to continue before all this nonsense with the spider. Now, pick up the mallet.”
Ballorn would never have admitted it, but he and Stitch made an excellent team. Less than an hour later, the armour was complete. Laid out on the ground were a breastplate, backplate, gauntlets, greaves, and a very impressive helm. Stitch was eager to begin the stage that only he could complete, the strapping. He had already prepared the thick leather that would secure the armour to Ballorn. Wielding his needle with a dexterity that impressed the blacksmith immensely, he tested each seam by trying to tear it apart, confident that he would not be able to. He doubted that even Ballorn, with his freakish strength, would have any better luck.
Ballorn had wandered off a few times. There was nothing he could do to help the tailor and knew first-hand how annoying it was to have someone standing over you as you worked. Each time he thought to come back to enquire how Stitch was getting on, he thought better of it and walked away without uttering a word.
“Ballorn,” Stitch suddenly called excitedly. “Over here, come and try it on.”
Unfortunately for Ballorn, everyone else heard Stitch beckoning him. As he approached the tailor, he was flanked by them all.
“You’ll have to help me,” Stitch said apologetically, pointing at the breastplate, “I can’t lift it on my own. But if you put it on, I’ll make the adjustments so it’s comfortable.”
Ballorn wasn’t so much concerned about how comfortable he would be when wearing the armour, he was concerned as to how uncomfortable he felt right now. “No need for that,” he said clearing his throat, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Alright,” replied Stitch as he reached down and grabbed the helm. “Look, I’ve lined it with wool, so it’ll be not only comfortable, but warm as well if we end up somewhere cold.” He then grabbed the gauntlets, “I’ve used the softest hide I had for these so they don’t chafe your hands, you can’t face a dragon if…”
“Put… it… on.”
They all turned to see a very serious Senn staring at them. His arms were folded and rested on his ample stomach, an indication that his words were no mere request.
Ballorn disliked being the centre of attention. Declining to try the armour when Stitch suggested it was only due to embarrassment, but would the same refusal insult their benefactor? “I made it, Senn. I know it’s going to fit me when the time comes to wear it properly.”
Senn lowered his head and looked up at him, “I don’t like having to say this, Ballorn,” he said quietly, “but either you try the armour on, all of it, or I have my guards throw it all on the back of a cart and we haul it back to Cheadleford. This is not about you, this is about all of us. I have chosen to believe in you, and your friends for that matter, but you’re more concerned about feeling daft in front of us. Imagine meeting up with this dragon you’ve told us about and not being able to cover yourself quickly enough because that armour isn’t properly adjusted. You’re as likely to become a pile of ash as the poor villagers who once filled this village, Now, be a good chap and let the tailor do his work.”
Ballorn shrugged and held out his arms in submission, “Alright,” he sighed. “If you insist.” He marched over to Stitch, “Come on, I’ll be your tailor’s dummy,” he said, placing the plate against his chest.
Stitch called Senn’s guards over, “Could you be so kind as to hold the backplate in place whilst I attach the straps, please?” he asked politely.
“Bloody dragons… armour… silver… standing like a right wally with everyone watching me like it’s some sort o’ sideshow.”
“Oh, do stop chuntering, Ballorn,” chuckled Stitch. “This won’t take long.”
Soon, Ballorn was fully adorned, “Satisfied?” he grunted as he lowered the helm onto his head. He had been almost spot-on with his prediction, as very little adjustment had had to be made for his creation to fit perfectly. Had it been broad daylight, the armour undoubtedly would have gleamed. But, as the sun sank below the horizon, it glowed fiery red, giving it an impressive, yet menacing appearance. Although very plain, there was still a magnificence to it.
Senn smiled, “That’s some grand work that is, Ballorn. You and Stitch should be proud of yourselves.”
“Thank you,” replied Stitch with a beaming smile.
“Whatever!” grunted Ballorn.
“Hmph,” snorted Dannard. “All this ‘cause a dragon told him he is this sebrinilim thing.”
“Nibrilsiem,” said Hunter correcting him.
Ballorn’s head began to swim. He stumbled and fell to one knee. What was happening to him, what was the voice in his head trying to tell him? He could hear it but the words it spoke made no sense. It was a language unlike anything he had heard before. All he could decipher, and even that was a shock to him, was one word that the voice repeated over and over… anvil.
“Ballorn? Are you alright?” asked the panic-stricken Stitch.
Ballorn looked up, “Yes,” he said breathlessly, “I’m fine. What happened?”
“You just keeled over,” replied Hunter, helping him to his feet.
“Just keeled over, my arse,” yelled Dannard. “What was all them strange words he was saying then? That ain’t like what no speech I has ever heard.”
Ballorn was still swaying slightly. Hunter wrapped the blacksmith’s arm around his shoulders, “Ignore him, Ballorn. Let’s get you sat down.”
“It’s the armour!” exclaimed Stitch. “It’s too heavy for him! He only had it on ten minutes and look what it’s done to him. How can he face a dragon, well, anything if he can’t even stand up in it?”
As Hunter sat him down, Ballorn grabbed Hunter’s shoulder and pulled him close, “The voice?” he asked shakily, “Did you hear the voice?”
“All I heard, and regrettably so did everyone else, was your voice, my friend. However, you were speaking in a tongue that none of us recognised.”
Ballorn stared at the ground, shaking his head occasionally whilst trying to regain his thoughts. “Not possible,” he whispered, “I don’t know any foreign languages.” He smiled weakly, “Unless of course you count Dannard.”
“Ah, you must be feeling a bit better,” said Hunter with a sigh of relief.
“Is that what the problem is, Ballorn?” asked Senn with genuine concern. “Is the armour too much for you to bear?”
“It’s nothing to do with the weight of the armour!” yelled Ballorn. “This is… something else.”
“So, when the dragon gobbles us all up, we doesn’t have to blame the armour. All we has to say is that it was something else what caused it. We can die knowing that all of this wasn’t just a big stinkin’ waste o’ time!”
Hunter glared at Dannard, “Remember when we first met, Dannard? I still have that arrow if you want it.”
Senn wagged his finger at Ballorn, “It must have something to do with the dragon,” he said slowly. “It all makes sense if you think about it. It told you that you needed to make the armour and that you must use silver. Everything was fine until you put i
t on, wasn’t it? Do you think it knows that you have completed your task and is somehow trying to communicate with you?”
Hunter raised his eyebrows, “He may be right, Ballorn. Who knows what powers those creatures hold, besides breathing fire and tearing people apart, of course?”
“Not me, that’s for sure,” replied Ballorn. “There’s one thing I do know though… I’m knackered. Help me get this lot off, Hunter. I’m going to have an early night.”
CHAPTER 11
They set off early the following morning, but not before Ballorn had caused a bit of a stir with his unusual request.
“What do you want to take that for?” shrieked Stitch. “You can’t use it up there! You’ve seen the place, what use would it be to you? I’ve heard of people taking their work with them, but this is ridiculous!”
“I don’t want to take it with me, I need to take it with me, I have to take it with me. I don’t know why!”
“Oh, that’s alright then, it’s much clearer to me now,” replied Stitch, mockingly. “It makes no sense, Ballorn!”
“It makes as much sense as trolling across the wilds for weeks to find a pile of silver! It makes as much sense as turning that silver into a suit of armour. To top it all is that it makes as much sense as a brackin dragon telling us to do it! So, let’s just get some ropes and get it loaded onto the cart!” Ballorn ranted.
“You’re sure about this?” asked Hunter. “We couldn’t just come back for it if we need to?”
Ballorn leaned in and whispered, “All I know is that the voice in my head kept repeating one word… ‘anvil’. It said it over and over as if it didn’t want me to forget. I know it’s a lot to ask, you’ve just got to trust me.”
Hunter smiled at him, “Okay then, let’s get it loaded. You tie it off and I’ll go and fetch the cart and Senn’s guards. We’re going to need them to lift it.”
There was much grunting, groaning, and a few choice phrases directed toward Ballorn, that were far from complimentary, as the anvil was eventually secured on the back of the cart. Once it was loaded they set off in the direction of Lonny’s devastated farm. Many things made the trip far easier than the last time they had visited, what little remained of, the missing farmer’s family home. They had a cart and were therefore relieved of the burden of having to carry anything they may need, the party had almost doubled in size giving them the strength to fend off any animal attacks and, more importantly, Ballorn’s leg was now perfectly healed allowing him to set a brisk pace as he marched ahead of the procession.
“This might be a stupid question…”
Ballorn rolled his eyes, not even looking back at Dannard as he awaited his next gem of observation. “You don’t say!” he sighed.
Dannard seemed oblivious to Ballorn’s tone as he continued, “Why is we bothering to go back to see the dragon again? We has the armour now. Alright, it’s a bit dull and boring, but it’ll do the job won’t it? Stop you being frizzled and all that.”
“Because he told us we need to,” called Stitch. “He has more to tell Ballorn that could help us win against that horrible monster that’s killing everyone. If we can find it, of course.”
“There’s no if,” said Ballorn, correcting him, “When. When we find it.”
Dannard’s eyes widened, “Ooooh,” he gasped. “What if it isn’t alone? What if it’s got some other dragons to go with it and they is all attacking villages together?”
“Then I’ll slay them too!” Ballorn growled. His show of bravado was impressive, but Dannard’s question was a valid one. The mere suggestion that anyone would think that they could face a dragon and survive would, without doubt, cause others to question the sanity of that person. The fact that Ballorn was now contemplating that he may have to face multiple dragons would have him branded as a lunatic by any nemilar, present company excepted.
Hunter appeared suddenly behind Dannard and slapped him on the back, startling the cooper. “If it’s not alone we’ll just join in,” he announced with apparent glee. “After all, they’ll only be fire-breathers or ice dragons. Just remember not to engage them head on and you’ll be quite safe,” he added, laughing. He caught up with Ballorn, turned his head, and winked at him.
Dannard frowned, “Oh really!” he exclaimed, calling after them. “And what if they decides to stamp on me and squidge me?”
“Well,” smiled Hunter, briefly glancing over his shoulder and looking him up and down, “you’re only a little chap. You wouldn’t leave much of a mess, we’d scrape you up in no time.”
Dannard glared at him, “That isn’t funny!” he exclaimed. “Talking about me getting…”
His objections and complaints continued for many miles.
***
It was mid-afternoon when Ballorn eventually announced, for the benefit of the newcomers, that they were nearing the dragon’s resting place. Senn’s nerve began to faulter. “Perhaps…” he said apprehensively, “… you should go on alone,” he gulped. “After all, it knows who you are. It wouldn’t do to startle it, who knows what it might do if it feels threatened.”
Ballorn surveyed him through half-closed eyes, “Firstly…” he said slowly, “… it’s him, not it. Secondly, he already knows we’re here and how many of us there are. Thirdly, and most importantly of all, he would not feel threatened if there were ten times as many in our group!”
Senn’s eyes darted from side to side in panic. He spoke, his voice barely a whisper, “You mean, he’s watching us? He’s watching us right now?”
“Of course he’s not watching us, you fool!” Do you think he has nothing better to do? He just knows.” A mischievous grin appeared on Ballorn’s face as he turned away. “Well, he won’t be watching us anyway… however… he might be keeping an eye on you.”
Senn backed away and took refuge behind his guards.
Ballorn sighed, “Fine!” he said loudly. “You’ll probably start asking stupid questions anyway.” He walked away, followed closely by Hunter, “You don’t have to tag along if you don’t want to,” he announced.
“Raging storms and rockfall wouldn’t keep me from your side, Ballorn. We started this little adventure together and I intend to remain by your side until it is done.”
“How very noble of you,” said Ballorn, a hint of scepticism in his voice.
“Me?” laughed Hunter. “Oh no, it’s not nobility. Well, maybe a bit. I’m just naturally inquisitive.”
“You mean you’re a nosey git?”
Hunter smiled widely, “Yeah… that’s the one.”
They slowed their pace and Ballorn began to call for the dragon, “We have returned,” he announced loudly. He waited momentarily but there was no reply. He glanced at Hunter and shrugged his shoulders, “We have constructed the armour as you instructed.”
“I’m not deaf,” yawned the dragon as he moved toward them. “Nor am I blind. I know time is not on your side, little one, but all you had to do was sit and wait a few moments. Instead you choose to let the whole mountain know of your presence.”
“If you didn’t keep hiding, I’d know where you were and wouldn’t have to shout!” protested Ballorn.
Hunter caught his eye and shook his head. He felt that getting into an argument with a dragon would not be the wisest decision one could make. “Our apologies,” he said, his voice taking a gentle tone as he turned his attention to the dragon. “We weren’t sure if you were still here. Our task took far longer than we had anticipated and feared that you may have had more pressing matters to contend with and moved on.”
The dragon lowered his head, the pupils of his enormous eyes narrowing as he peered at Hunter, “More pressing matters?” he asked. “What would be more pressing than the eradication of all life on our world?”
Hunter tilted his head to one side as he gazed up at the dragon, “I hadn’t given it much thought until now,” he replied slowly.
The dragon snorted, tiny wisps of smoke drifting from his nostrils, “Evidently.”
&nbs
p; “Can we stop picking faults with each other?” Ballorn asked, impatiently. “You gave us instructions and we followed them. I’ve made the armour and now I’ve…” he glanced at Hunter, who had raised his eyebrows at Ballorn’s use of the singular description, “… we have returned.”
“But only with the aid of our new-found friends,” added Hunter. “One of them is quite fat, so if you fancy a snack, he’d be the one I’d choose.”
“Hunter!” exclaimed Ballorn.
“I’m joking!” Hunter laughed. “I know our friend here wouldn’t really eat him.” He paused, “He’d want something with more muscle than fat… you’d be first on the menu.” Both the dragon and Ballorn were now staring at him. He lowered his head and cleared his throat. “I suppose we should get on,” he announced, his voice taking a more serious tone. “Shall I fetch the armour?” he asked, looking for any excuse to escape the uncomfortable situation he had placed himself in.
“No,” replied the dragon. “That must wait until nightfall. Go back to your fellows and wait until you are summoned. Ballorn and I have much to discuss.”
***
“Why me?” asked the vikkery. “Why us, in particular?”
“The reasons are many, dear friend. None of which, I’m afraid, I am at liberty to divulge. Simply know that you are the only ones who can end the reign of terror with which the dragon is tormenting our world.”
“We do not lack courage, Barden, of that you can be assured! Neither do we lack intellect. The dragon is a colossus and we are small and few. How could we possibly defeat such a gargantuan enemy?”
Barden peered at him, “What if I were to give you the ability to be more than you are? Would that give you the courage to face the one responsible for the deaths of scores of your kin?”
The vikkery stared at Barden, the flickering of the firelight enhancing the look of rage in his eyes, “If I had something that I thought would give me even half a chance,” he said shuffling forward, “I’d face it head on and consequence be damned!”
Mark of The Nibrilsiem: Set before The Ascension of Karrak (The Karrak Trilogy Book 4) Page 10
