It made me sorta sad, driving by the ruins of the smithy where I used to work with Julie, my blacksmith master. Mondays were her long day, so it was all good. I wanted to organize some of my thoughts about the gate Nidhogg asked for and do a little research on the intertubes before Katie got home. I swung by M onkey S hines-my favoritest coffee shop, ever-before heading back to Kent. I took my gear from a nearby servant and pushed back into the tepid light of early afternoon. How horrible could he get? I didn’t think I wanted to find out. But I knew he was a dragon, through and through. And what of Frederick Sawyer? His public persona was one of philanthropy and benevolence. Nothing like her spoiled, broken child, Jean Paul, had been. What a complicated creature, this dragon. But on the other hand, she feared for the children. I hated that she knew about Katie, likely from Qindra. Emotions warred in me, fear, sadness, and frustration. The other for you to keep, to remind you of your obligation.” One for me to wear near my heart, to keep her safe. I stepped back, gauged the hallway, noting the thick wooden beams across the ceiling and the tiled floor. “Something befitting my home that will keep the children from this hall. “I want you to build me a gate,” she said, finally. Jai Li, the mute girl who sat at Nidhogg’s side, working her needle and thread from morning to night. “Jai Li misses her the most, I fear,” Nidhogg said, her voice husky. She walked down the short hall and, using her cane, pushed a cross-stitch that lay propped against the door. If anyone alive can bring her home to me, it is you. I have no worries now that I have seen your true self, young blacksmith. “I understand,” I said, grinding my teeth. I could easily believe her room would be filled with things that went boom, in the magical sense. They will injure themselves, interfere in things they cannot begin to understand.” “But this is a room fraught with dangers and magic. The older ones, too, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “They come here, try to sneak into her room.” She looked at me, sadness in her ancient eyes. “The children,” she said, waving back toward the house. Small items lay along the floor in front of the door-trinkets and toys, hand-drawn pictures and needlework. It was smaller than the rest and ended in a plain, white door.
We exited the great library and walked back toward the front of the house.Īs we neared the front doors, Nidhogg paused by a side corridor. The servants who were coming forward to escort me out froze, confused. “I thank you for the story,” I said, standing. How could we not fix it? Was there no hope? This is what I was meant to do and what we always did. There was no other path, no other options.
It was like talking to that old man in the Indiana Jones movie, the one who protected the Holy Grail for centuries. We live in a world of our making, and we will rule it with justice and right.” “Is there any chance to fix things?” I asked. Even Nidhogg was plagued by dreams from Odin. That is what the mad wanderer tells me in my dreams.” The wheel no longer turns, the axle is askew. She cocked her head at me, stroking the side of her face as she watched me. “Perhaps,” I offered, feeling daring and brave beyond my measure, “just a thought, but perhaps you regret the way of things?” “It feels good to unburden myself of these memories that haunt my nightmares.” “I have not spoken of such in a very long time,” she said with a sigh. As the tale wove on, we finished two pots of tea and most of the cakes.
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