Forged in Fire

by J. A. Pitts

  Twenty-three

  Gunther and Anezka walked the grounds of Black Briar. It had only been a month or so since she’d escaped the madness of her home, just ahead of the catastrophic break that forced Bub to snatch her and take her with him into the sideways. Bub had brought her back days later, nearly catatonic. She was recovering and showing miraculous progress.

  “It’s hard to think some days,” she said, leaning on his arm for support. “I dream of that place, the whisper of voices, the dark things that came for us, tried to steal me away from Bub.” She trembled against him.

  Gunther squeezed her against him. “Hush now. That has passed. You are safe here with us, with me.”

  She looked up at him, a smile ghosting the corners of her mouth. “You are a kind man.”

  They walked on in silence a bit longer. She rested her head against his arm. Gunther watched the area for interruptions, signs of danger.

  “I have had the same dream for three nights in a row,” she said, breaking the silence. “I dream about a man crucified to a great tree. Lightning plays in the heavens above him, and he cries out into the wilderness.”

  Gunther had heard this before. She was not the only one dreaming of the one-eyed god. Sarah had spoken of this dream, as had Deidre. “What does he say?”

  She laughed, the edge of mania still coloring that raucous cacophony, but it had lessened with time. One day, he hoped to hear her laugh for the pleasure of living, instead of the answering call to the madness that threatened to consume her.

  “He asks for his children,” she said, breaking into a cackle. “He believes I know them. I barely know myself.” She tapered off, the last words a whisper.

  “It is not yours to fix,” Gunther said, finally. “Your road leads elsewhere.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she chided. “I can no more find up from down than I can north from south. I am lost, brave warrior. Lost and afraid I will never find my way home again.”

  “Home is relative,” he said with a gentle bump of his shoulder to hers. “You are safe here, among friends.”

  She squeezed his arm. “Are you my friend?”

  “Most definitely,” he said, and they continued their slow trek around the circumference of the barnyard. “When was the last time you did something creative?” he asked.

  Anezka studied him, turning her head from one side to the other. “Define creative.”

  “Fair enough. When was the last time you made something with your hands?”

  “Before Sarah came into my life. Before she wrecked everything.”

  Gunther paused, pulling her to a halt. “You think it is Sarah who has brought you to this?”

  Anezka looked down, avoiding his eyes. “My life was fine until she showed up.”

  He took her hands in his, turned her to face him. “She saved you from Justin and his vile plans. You realize that, don’t you?”

  She squirmed at Justin’s name. He’d done things to her, evil things that Gunther hated to even speculate about. “He would have killed you, if she hadn’t rescued you.”

  “Perhaps,” she said, pulling back from him. “He liked to hurt things, hurt me. That’s a truth.” She turned, walking three steps from him, before turning her gaze back on him. “You would never hurt me, would you?”

  Gunther shook his head. “Never.”

  “Not even if I asked you to? Just a little?”

  She threw her head back and laughed.

  Gunther did not react. Just let her laugh until the madness trickled down to a titter, then a final wheezing cough.

  “I think you’ve had enough pain in your life,” he said, quietly. “Perhaps it’s time for you to try living with joy.”

  She covered her face with her hands and wept. After a minute, he stepped forward and drew her to him, allowing her to cry herself out against him.

  When the storm had cleared, he walked her back to the house. Took her up to her room, the only place she felt safe these days. He’d made sure to add little wards as he had the skill. Quiet things that would allow for peace and reflection without the anxiety that frequently overwhelmed her.

  He sat with her as she lay down and fell asleep. She slept a lot, but she was still recovering. The nurse they kept on shift took over for him after thirty minutes, and he left the house, confident that she was safe.

  As he crossed the yard, near the old barn, the one the dragon had burned down, he paused. Bub was trundling across the yard from barracks A. He’d been playing with Frick and Frack when Gunther and Anezka first began their walk. There was a sense of joy surrounding the imp, which seemed at odds with his demonic appearance.

  “Bub,” Gunther said, capturing the imp’s attention.

  Bub froze, startled. There was fear there, suddenly. Fear and resentment. Gunther took a deep breath and pressed onward. “I wish your opinion,” he said.

  This was not what Bub expected, apparently. He seemed taken aback. “My opinion?” he asked. “From one such as you?”

  Gunther assumed he meant someone who could banish the imp for a short time, but hesitated to speculate on the meaning. “Do you love Anezka?”

  “Of course I do,” Bub answered, indignant. “For longer than you have.”

  And it was Gunther’s turn to be surprised. Certainly he cared for her, but love? He’d never truly loved a woman. He had friends, and Stuart was chief among them, blood brother that he was. But love for Anezka?

  “Be that as it may,” he continued, “I worry for her sanity. I believe we need to find something for her to do. Something to capture her imagination, something to fire her curiosity and give her hope.”

  “There is only one choice,” Bub said, matter-of-factly. “She must work iron, hammer steel, brighten the forge.”

  Dangerous, Gunther thought. “Do you think this wise?”

  Bub considered, pondering his answer. “She is a child of the flame, capricious and maddening as a dancing fire. It calls to her soul. She is a maker. It is in her to create.”

  “Could you help her?” Gunther asked. “Keep the flames from getting out of control? Protect her from herself?”

  Bub bowed to him. “I have it within my power to keep her safe, as long as you provide me a place in which to work my skills.”

  “Sarah said as much. She would like to build a forge here, make a place for the three of you to work together.”

  “She has spoken of this to me,” Bub said. “It is an excellent idea.”

  “You truly believe it will help Anezka? It won’t feed her madness?”

  He did not hesitate. “It is the only thing that can free her mind from the spell the necromancer wove in her, the chains he bound her with.”

  Gunther looked up, surprised. “He bound her with chains?”

  “Not of steel, but spirit and pain.”

  “Speak with Sarah on this,” Gunther said. “I need to do some research on these spirit chains. Perhaps we can help break the bonds that warp her mind.”

  “Fire and forge,” Bub answered. “You may ease the transition, for when the shackles are finally removed, she will be frightened and weak. Perhaps you can ease the transition back to her true form.”

  “I will study on this,” Gunther said, “but if you have any ideas, please let me know. I value your insight.”

  Bub bowed again. “As you wish.”

  Gunther walked toward the new barn to grab some gear. Sparring would help clear his mind. He looked over. Stuart and Sarah sat on the deck, conspiring something mischievous, likely.

  He waved at them and made his way into the barn.

  Twenty-four

  I sat on the deck out at Black Briar, watching Gunther and Anezka walk around and around the farm, each lap taking about twenty minutes. They were on their third lap when Stuart joined me with two mugs of hot chocolate. It was fairly cold out, but I’d traveled here by mirror instead of riding the bike. Much more civilized.

  “I just don’t understand why you feel honor-bound to serve her.”<
br />
  I looked up at him as he set the mugs down on the small table. He was still angry about the battle where we’d lost so many to the damn dragon. But Nidhogg was not Jean-Paul. No more than I was Stuart.

  “They’re not all the same, you know?”

  He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at me.

  I waited him out, sipped my cocoa, and practiced my patience. I wanted to shake him, to make him see the way things had shifted, but he didn’t have it in him to forgive. Not yet, not with so much blood spilled.

  “You could kill her,” he said, finally. “On one of your visits. If you can’t take Gram, I’m sure you can find something large and heavy enough to bludgeon her with.”

  “Nice,” I said, turning to face him. “Is that what we’re down to, now? Killing an old woman in her home?”

  “She’s a dragon, damn it. You know she is. It’s only a matter of time before she turns on you, on us.” That was the real trick. He felt helpless to protect the folks of Black Briar. I had the proven record of killing a dragon and surviving. It was ugly business.

  “There’s another way,” I offered, “if we’re open to the possibility.”

  He watched me out of the corner of his eye.

  “If I can rescue Qindra, it will put Nidhogg into my debt. That’s gotta count for something.”

  He harrumphed and blew on his drink.

  “Besides, I’m learning a ton of stuff. You want to lose that level of intelligence?”

  “True,” he admitted, grudgingly. “That information about her helping kill the gods, how Loki stirred the pot. All very interesting. And her thought that the wheel is broken, like Odin said to you. Makes it all weirder. Who is on whose side?”

  I nodded. “Exactly my thought. What if we could make Nidhogg’s domain a safe haven? We know this Joe/Odin guy has lived in Nidhogg’s domain for years, even though he’s disappeared lately.” I thought back to the last time I’d seen Homeless Joe, the sometimes god, Odin. I hadn’t figured out if he only channeled Odin from time to time, or if he really was Odin. It wasn’t unreasonable that he’d forgotten who he was through the loneliness and grief for his lost family.

  “Besides,” I reasoned, “we don’t know that the other dragons are like Jean-Paul. You can do the research; Frederick Sawyer is a regular philanthropist. Patron of the arts, all around pillar of his community.”

  Stuart groused, mumbling something foul under his breath, and generally caved. “Fine,” he said. “Just like no two people are exactly the same, I’ll grant you that maybe the dragons are not cut from the same cloth, but you cannot sit here and tell me you think they’re harmless.”

  I covered my immediate reaction by sipping my drink. I knew better, at least with Nidhogg. She’d killed some of her own household in a rage. I wasn’t sure if it was Alzheimer’s, or some other form of dementia, but she seemed very lucid when I spoke with her. If anything, she seemed to crave some intellectual conversation and the company of someone who did not quake when she twitched.

  “I’d go as far as to say that they are not all crazed sadists like Jean-Paul was, but I am under no illusions that they are benevolent rulers. They are manipulative and self-serving.”

  “There you go.” He wasn’t rubbing it in, because he knew we weren’t keeping score.

  “But, can you tell me a politician in the world, or any significant leader, even a CEO of a company, that isn’t arrogant and self-serving at some level?”

  “Touché,” he said. “And I don’t care much for the lot of ’em.”

  “Aye, but you aren’t advocating we hunt any of them down and kill them, either.”

  He growled at me, but his shoulders sagged a bit. The fight was leaving him for now. The episodes of anger and rage were diminishing, but he would not be forgiving the breed for the loss they’d dealt us.

  “What about her?” he asked, pointing out to Anezka. “And her little demon buddy?”

  “I think she’s desperate for companionship and Gunther fits the bill.”

  “He’s breathing, you mean?”

  Nice. “No, I mean he’s been kind to her and that isn’t something she’s used to.”

  “And her old lover, the lunatic that’s killing girls and animals in two countries just to find you?”

  “Oh, she hates him,” I assured him. “Whatever he did to her was not pretty. I’m not even sure if he doesn’t have some long-term, deep-seated tether on her somehow. She’s definitely a few crayons shy of a full box.”

  “And Bub?”

  I looked for the little pisher. He was mostly sharing the company of Trisha and the twins: Frick and Frack. “He has a good heart,” I said, meaning it. “He’s not like us, that’s for sure, but he loves Anezka like a daughter or something.”

  Stuart looked over at me, perplexed. “I’d say he’s in love with her, but he watched her grow up. More of a protective figure at this point.”

  “Wasn’t he more violent when you first met him?”

  I reached up to touch the amulet under my shirt. His shift had begun the second I touched it. “He’s aligned to me as well, through the amulet,” I told him. “He was tuned only to the CRAZY.FM that Anezka was broadcasting on all channels. Once he switched to me, he began to settle down, to become more reasonable, tame.”

  Stuart choked, coughing and laughing at the same time. “Nothing personal, Beauhall, but you are not the pinnacle of calm and collected.”

  “I know, right?” I was as stunned as he was. “It’s like out at Mary’s place. I was the only one who couldn’t see the pain writing. I assumed I was carrying buckets of it around, and it turns out I’m the only one on the farm who was pain-free.”

  He smiled at me. “Maybe you just have a better set of shields.”

  Maybe. I didn’t argue with him, but ever since deciding to move in with Katie, a level of low-grade angst had vaporized.

  “Of course, I’m still carrying a trunk full of psychosis about my family.”

  He chuckled. “That’s just normal living. Hell, if I let all that get to me, my marriage would’ve killed me.”

  Whoa … Stuart had been … “When were you married?”

  He glanced at me sideways, squinting. I guess he was seeing if I was busting his chops. “I was a young pup. Got married to my high school sweetheart before shipping out to Iraq in the first war. Didn’t do much other than chew sand and live in boredom. But, when I got back, she’d hooked up with a few of my other friends.”

  “A few?”

  He waved his hands to clear the air. “We got married too young. She needed to sow her wild oats. Just didn’t figure I’d come home from serving my country to find my wife knocked up by some guy I counted as a friend.”

  He looked down, studying the cocoa in his cup. I didn’t press the situation, but I could tell it still bothered him.

  “And look at them,” he pointed out to the yard. “Gunther and I’ve been thick as thieves since elementary school. I trust him with my life.” He took a long draw on his mug, draining the last of the chocolate. “If he wants to fall in love with a wacked-out blacksmith, I’m all for it. As long as it doesn’t interfere with our sparring and the occasional drinking binge.”

  He winked at me and grinned.

  “Gotta tell ya,” I said, laughing, “I’ve seen Anezka drink. She’d give you a run for your money.”

  He turned back to the yard and watched them. “Is that so? Maybe she’s gone up a notch in my book.”

  “She’s a damned fine blacksmith as well,” I assured him. “She just needs to find her way.”

  “Aye, don’t we all?”

  I finished my chocolate and stood, picking up the mugs. “Refill?” I asked.

  “Nah,” he said. “I’ve had enough sweet for one day.” He gestured out across the lawn to where Gunther and Anezka were standing, hand in hand. “If I need anymore, I’ll just watch them.”

  I laughed and took the mugs back inside. Deidre was napping on the couch and the house was quiet.
Jimmy must have been down in the basement, working.

  The house had a different vibe when I was here without Katie. I felt more like I was visiting my grandparents’ place or something.

  Not that I’d ever visited my grandparents. Both Ma and Da had distanced themselves from any family they may or may not have had. I wasn’t even sure if either of them had brothers or sisters. I could have a whole passel of cousins and I’d never know it.

  Stuart came back inside, making sure the door did not bang in the frame and wake up Deidre. He watched me, smiling. “Place feels funny without Katie, huh?”

  I nodded. “I was just thinking that.”

  He glanced around, shrugging. “Been coming here a lot of years, but every now and again, it reminds me of my grandmother’s place up in Blaine.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, only I don’t know any of my extended family. Not like Da was open about much.”

  The spark was back in his eye. I could just feel a lecture coming. “You know, Beauhall, for a dragon slayer, you sure have a lot of fear around your old man. He beat you?” He stopped, like he’d gone too far. “Sorry, none of my business.”

  I sat down on the barstool at the big island in the kitchen and dropped my hands on my knees. “No, it’s a fair question.” How to begin with him?

  “He was a kind man. Amazing, really, all the way until I could start asking questions like why we moved every year until I went to high school. He was always moving from job to job, and we didn’t have a lot. Ma kept the house together, but when Megan came and I was pushing things too far, we got to fighting.”

  He sat and listened. I’d never really shared any of this with him, but it seemed like the right time.

  “There was something he was running from,” I said, feeling it out as I went along. “I can see that now. Sometimes the phone would ring late at night, and the next day Ma would take me out of school and we’d be moving right then.”

  “Hard on a little girl.”

  “Yeah, but I had a few special things, an emergency pack in my room that I could grab and run. I kept a stuffed rabbit as well, carried it around so long I’d worn the fur off its arms.”