The Sword of Darrow (7 page)

T
hor’s hammer struck hard and orange sparks exploded into the air. Across the mountainside, a dull clang echoed with a slow, steady beat. The old blacksmith paused, looking down at the iron handle taking shape, and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

Then he heard what he had been dreading for days.

Hoofbeats.

He wiped his hands on his apron and glanced quickly around the yard. Babette had gone. She and Moakie had left to explore one of the mountain trails.

Thor had warned against these trips. Babette would hop on Moakie’s back and off they would go. There was no telling when or where the goblins might appear. Staying close to the cabin was safer. At least that is what he had thought.

The old blacksmith stood quietly running his hand over the stubble that topped his head. The sound grew closer. Atop an old horse sat a youthful goblin. He dismounted, barely nodded at Thor, and walked straight into the cabin.

Thor heard his table crash against the floor as the goblin overturned it and a metal plate rolled out the door. The goblin was back in the yard in seconds. He walked to the workshop and, after a quick inspection, he turned to the blacksmith.

“Have you seen a girl? A small girl with red hair about seven years old.”

“Wha-wha-what girl?” Thor sputtered. He paused, looking for words, and muttered nervously. “There’s nobody but me up here.”

The goblin eyed Thor sternly but did not answer. He turned, mounted his horse, and rode away.

For ten long minutes, Thor watched the trail. Then he hurried down the mountainside to deliver a message in the village below.

A few days later, Babette was carrying wood to the shed when she heard a horseman approach. As Thor had instructed, she dropped her load and ran to the forest, burying herself in a thicket of bushes. From her hiding place, she could see the cabin and the trail.

Into the clearing came a single horse. The rider was a young man, a boy really. He wore no shoes and rode bareback. Thor hobbled from the workshop to greet the rider. The rider nodded and smiled, but Thor was speaking quickly, his hands moving as he spoke. The boy’s eyes grew large. He shook his head firmly, refusing whatever request Thor had made. But Thor reached into his pocket, pulled out coins, and placed them in the boy’s hand. Still, the boy shook his head and tried to pull his hand away. But with the boy still on the horse, Thor grasped his wrists and shook him.

As Thor spoke words that Babette could not hear, the boy froze. He looked down at the coins, as if they were a terrible curse. Then, with a grim expression, he stuffed them into his pocket and galloped back down the path.

Thor could not bear to tell Babette that she would have to leave. And he could not bring himself to stop her trips with Moakie. Every afternoon, after work, Babette would climb on Moakie’s back for a ride across the mountain trails.

One afternoon, on one such ride, Babette and Moakie arrived at an open meadow. There, Babette and Moakie launched into a game of hide-and-seek.

Moakie, of course, had no talent for hiding. There was simply too much dragon to conceal. To help Moakie, Babette always counted slowly, loudly, and to at least twenty-five. But this time, when she reached the final number and opened her eyes, instead of Moakie’s bulk, she saw something much, much more terrifying.

There, before her, stood two goblin soldiers on horseback.

“What do you think?” asked the younger goblin with a smile.

“Probably not,” answered the other. “But you never know.”

Babette, eyes wide, began slowly stepping backwards toward the trees at the edge of the meadow. As she did, the two riders dismounted and moved carefully toward her.

“Don’t be afraid, little girl. Just a quick trip to town and you’ll be back in no time,” said the older goblin, reaching out his hand to Babette. Babette kept moving, closer and closer to the trees.

“Easy, girl. No one wants to hurt you.” The goblins stepped faster. Babette kept pace, peering over her shoulder, eyeing her escape.

Babette was at the edge of the meadow, ready to run, but as she turned, her foot caught a root. She fell backwards into the brush.

The goblins leaped forward. But before they reached the princess, they met a surprise. Moakie’s large green head appeared from behind the bushes. A great ball of fire exploded from her mouth. Seconds later, all that remained of the goblins were two piles of ashes on the burning grass.

Babette staggered to her feet and for a few seconds only blinked at the spot where the goblins had stood. Then she turned and gave Moakie a great hug around the neck. “Moakie, you are my true savior! I was dead for sure,” cried Babette. Then she quickly mounted the dragon, and Moakie galloped down the trail to the blacksmith’s cabin.

In the cabin, Babette explained what had happened and Thor shook his head in dismay.

“We’ll need to find you a new home,” he told her in a low voice.

Babette wanted none of this news. She loved her life in the mountains far from the cold palace walls. She pleaded with Thor to let her stay.

“I will never leave the cabin,” she promised.

“I will wear disguises.”

“I will clean Moakie’s teeth every day!”

Thor just shook his head sadly and continued with his work.

A week later, Babette sat with Thor, sharing breakfast in his cabin. No more goblins had appeared. Thor’s words about leaving were almost forgotten.

She looked up at the old dwarf.

“Were you ever married?” Babette asked.

Thor looked away and did not answer.

“What happened to her?” she asked.

“That’s a long story, child. Now, off to work for both of us.”

“Please tell me.”

Again, Thor was silent, but he could not refuse the little girl. He started slowly.

“We lived in a village down the mountain, and in those days, I made swords. One day, I returned from the market with a lot of money. A robber followed me home. When I left to get firewood, he entered the house.”

“And what happened?”

“He robbed me. When my wife tried to resist him, he killed her with a sword made by my very own hands.

“That’s when I moved here to the mountains. I swore that I would never make a weapon again.”

Babette gave Thor a long hug.

“You are right,” she said. “There is nothing good that can come from a sword.”

That afternoon, Babette returned to the cabin. Thor was polishing a new pot. Babette hopped up on a box and looked at the old dwarf.

Thor thought Babette might be sad from the story about his wife, so he offered her a story that he was sure would make her laugh.

“Did I ever tell you how Moakie set fire to my peacock?”

Babette did not hear. Her eyes were glazed over and she was staring through the window.

Thor rose and scanned the clearing. There was no sign of goblins. But his old ears heard music. It was a delicate, beautiful song.

A tiny yellow bird fluttered in the doorway.

Though the bird was small in size, her singing was loud and joyous. Now Babette trembled, her face without expression as if lost in a dream. She lifted her hand and held out one finger.

Principeelia eased herself on to her perch.

As the little bird sang, Babette began to sob in happiness at seeing her beloved bird. Thor’s eyes moved from Babette to the bird and back again, unable to find meaning in these events. Then he noticed something strange.

“Babette, the paper on her leg. What does it say?”

Quietly, Babette placed Principeelia on the table and unwrapped the wire. A small piece of paper fell.

Thor took the paper, unfolded it, and tried to read the tiny handwriting. Making a face, he pushed the note back to Babette.

“I can’t read,” Babette said, her voice quiet and flat.

So Thor rummaged through a box until he found glasses, smudged and with one broken lens. He held the note high to catch the light of the cabin window and read aloud:

“The journey is dark. The journey is long.

But there is magic in the yellow bird’s song.

Principeelia will be your guide,

Follow now, remain at her side.

Long live the kingdom of Sonnencrest.”

“What does this mean?” asked Babette, suddenly thinking of her family.

Thor knew the meaning of the note. Struggling, he spoke, almost gruffly, to the princess.

“It means that you are not safe here. It means you are to follow this bird into the forest on a long journey to meet a wizard. The wizard has magic that will protect you.”

Babette looked back, eyes wide.

“Who is this wizard? What will he do to me?”

“I have never met this wizard, but he is known throughout Sonnencrest. His name is Asterux. His magic is as beautiful as it is strong. He is the one person who can make you safe.”

“You will go with me?”

“I cannot. This is a journey that you must make on your own.”

“I won’t go!”

It was more than the danger that Babette feared. She didn’t want to be a princess. All she wanted was to be Thor’s daughter, to help him make pots and play on this magical mountain with her beloved Moakie. But Thor spoke sternly and with an authority that Babette had never heard.