Chapter 3

3

T here was plenty to marvel at as Hakon followed behind his friend Orek into the great hall of Dundúran Castle. Whereas many of the homes and halls of Kaldebrak were carved into the mountain itself, the humans of the Darrowlands had made a mountain out of stone blocks, wrought iron, and carved wood.

Hakon took it in with wide eyes as he followed a step behind Orek. The hall was a towering space, peaked arches converging on heavy beams carved with animals and branches. Dozens of banners hung from the rafters, dominated by the standard of the Darrows, a crossed arrow and sword over a field of deep blue.

The warm stones of the hall almost glowed in the late-summer light, streaming inside the hall through rows of paned glass windows. It seemed to light their path, straight to a shallow dais of three short steps. A wide wooden chair, not quite a throne, had been placed at the center, and an older human man sat upon it, leaning forward to speak with another human standing before him.

The hall was hardly full, only five others inside, which offered Hakon a sliver of relief. Their steps echoed on the stone floor as they approached, and Orek slowed their pace the closer they came.

Glancing over his shoulder, Orek said, "Don't be nervous."

Impossible.

It'd been one thing to make the long journey north, questioning his right mind with every soggy step as the spring rains soaked him and his gear through. It'd been one thing to arrive in the Darrowlands and struggle through his limited Eirean to finally find a friendly harbor, with Orek and his human mate's large family. He and many otherly folk had begun congregating on or near the Brádaigh estate, seeking the help of the halfling who'd started all this.

That long journey, those days of indecision and nights of regret, all somehow felt shorter than the walk from the massive doors to the dais at the other end of the hall.

Hakon had told his aunt Siggy, had told himself this was what he wanted—to work his craft and make a life for himself and a future mate. That had all become far more than an idea in the space of two days, and his head was still trying to catch up.

Sitting around the large communal fire of the makeshift village of otherly folk, talking with his fellows about where they'd come from and where they hoped to go, Hakon had divulged his craft as a blacksmith and his hopes of finding a village that needed his skills. Hearing this, Orek and his mate Sorcha had informed him that, not a village, but Dundúran Castle itself needed smiths.

They would bring him to Liege Darrow himself.

At first Hakon didn't think he'd heard them correctly. It was bound to happen, with all the languages and noise of their patchwork settlement. He'd had Orek repeat himself just to be sure.

"Yes, up at the castle," Orek confirmed, looking to his mate.

"On her last visit, Aislinn said the previous under blacksmith left for Gleanná, so they've been making do with just Fearghas." Sorcha, a comely, buxom human woman who was all warmth and smiles, said this as if Hakon knew any of these names, but it didn't matter that he didn't. What was important was a chance at a position—at the castle of all places.

And Hakon wanted it.

It'd been a vague sort of longing for months now, a partial idea of where he might stoke his forge fire. He'd assumed, being only half-human, a village smithy would be what awaited him. As he'd stumbled through the Eirean countryside, finally finding his way to Orek and Sorcha, he'd begun to worry over his plans. Nothing was available or no one wanted him to stay.

Upon arriving at the Brádaigh estate, he'd found most of the other folk were hoping for land to cultivate. A pack of bachelor manticores hoped for prime forest land for hunting—and pretty meadows to woo prospective mates in. A lone fae warrior and his unicorn steed were looking for an estate of their own, needing a home and land to absorb his magic. A dragon and his halfling sister looked to possibly ranch or build a school or both. A small flock of four harpy sisters had come to avoid a larger conflict within their previous flock and hoped to find homes and mates. And the handful of other half-orc had all expressed a desire to farm.

Amongst all this talk, Hakon's hopes had begun to wither.

He knew nothing of farming, and he'd certainly seen plenty of the wilderness on his long journey here. Doubts began to slither around his heart, and for several days he'd sat with a cold, slimy sort of desperation sucking at his guts.

What have I done? Did I forsake gadaron 's forge fires for nothing?

But then Orek and Sorcha delivered the heartening news.

As Hakon followed Orek through the city of Dundúran, through the towering castle gates, and through the expansive castle courtyard, that hope had flickered anew.

With every step, Hakon grew surer that this was where he wanted to be. Born and raised within a mountain city, he was far more content within the great stone walls of a castle. Every stone felt familiar, every sconce and door hinge fascinated him.

A castle, this castle, was full of opportunities.

So there was little chance that Hakon wouldn't have nerves gathered in his gut as they approached the human lord. Not when he wanted this so badly, he could taste the yearning on the back of his tongue.

Hakon stood beside Orek as they waited for their turn to speak with Liege Lord Darrow, willing his ears to keep from turning that ruddy red they often did with emotion.

He was grateful Orek had kept to his left side, nearer his good ear, when his friend leaned over to say, "Darrow is a good man and a friend. He'll welcome your skills, I'm sure."

Hakon nodded but couldn't offer a response. He clenched his small tusks to his gums, the nerves and all his hopes clutching his insides in tight fists.

If Liege Darrow turned him away…Hakon didn't know what he'd do.

After another moment, the man speaking with Liege Darrow bowed and turned to walk away. He gasped when he saw two green halflings towering above him, jumping nearly a foot before skittering away.

It certainly wasn't the worst reaction a human had had to Hakon's presence.

Orek stepped forward and Hakon followed, bowing his head when Orek did in deference.

"I received Sorcha's message just this morning. I'm intrigued," said Liege Darrow, smiling at them from under his voluminous but neatly kept beard.

Darrow was still large and strong despite his years, with a mane and beard that had once been golden blond but were now fading to white. The rich velvet and silk of his doublet and robes couldn't hide a warrior's body, although it was his eyes, a leonine hazel and bracketed by fanning lines that drew Hakon forward. They looked down upon him and Orek with polite shrewdness, and Hakon kept his shoulders squared, knowing he was already being assessed. Probably had been since they entered the room.

"Orek, it's good to see you. What have you brought me?" The lord's voice was loud without booming, and confident—it rang clearly in Hakon's ears as he stood stiffly, awaiting judgment.

"Lord Merrick, we were told by Aislinn not long ago that the castle was in need of a new blacksmith." Orek's large green hand landed on Hakon's shoulder. "I've brought you a blacksmith. This is Hakon Green-Fist, newly arrived from Kaldebrak."

Hakon bowed his head. "My Lord Darrow, it is an honor to be here."

Darrow's brows arched. "You speak Eirean already."

"Mostly. I still have much to learn."

"You came here by yourself?"

"Yes, my lord. To work."

"They don't need blacksmiths in Kaldebrak?"

"There are already too many smiths in Kaldebrak." It was why the mountain had been mostly hollowed out long ago, the Green-Fist clan almost too industrious. Orclings learned to cast weapons before ever training to use them.

Darrow grinned in good humor. "I can hardly imagine. It seems like we're always in need of a smith." Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and took another long look at Hakon.

For his part, Hakon held very still, reminding himself that he was clean from his journey, wearing his best clothes. The shoulders of his jerkin had been tooled with steel, his arm bands molded to fit only his forearms, and his belt crafted from an eight-stranded braid of silver. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick from the work he'd done over a lifetime. He was a male in his prime, ready to prove himself.

Give me the chance, he urged. Let me show what I can do.

"You have experience at the forge?"

"My clan raises younglings to work the fires. I have worked iron since I was small."

"You can do all the everyday forging? Nails, horseshoes, the like?"

"Yes, my lord. Easily."

"But will you want to do them? I'm afraid not every project will be exciting. We go through more horseshoes than swords."

"If it needs doing, I will do it, my lord." And, because Orek had said Darrow was a friend and he'd shown good humor, Hakon dared to add, "And to be truthful, I prefer making axes to swords."

That earned him a smile through the beard. Sitting back in his seat, Darrow chuckled, "A fine axe will get you far in this world." He nodded once and looked to Orek. "You'll vouch for him?"

"Of course, my lord."

"Very well." Rising from his seat, Darrow descended the three shallow steps and held out his hand to Hakon. "Welcome to Dundúran Castle, Hakon Green-Fist."

Chest clenching with amazement, Hakon took the lord's hand and shook it in the way of humans. The lord's grip was firm, and Hakon returned it, pride having him stand a little taller.

Everything he'd hoped, everything he'd wanted was happening. He could hardly breathe, fearing it would disappear quicker than a spooked deer on a hunt.

"I won't fail you, my lord."

Darrow gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Wait until you meet our head blacksmith Fearghas before you make too many promises," he laughed.

When he turned to shake hands with Orek, the other halfling said, "There are more wishing for an audience with you, whenever you have the time, my lord."

"Word certainly has spread," said Darrow. "I'm glad for it. But next time you come, it's Aislinn you'll want. I'm putting her in charge of this—she'll oversee the suits and decide what can be done." And, leaning in, he said conspiratorially, "I'm sure between her and Sorcha, they'll have it all figured out in an afternoon."

"No doubt," Orek agreed, his look growing fond at the mention of his mate.

Talk turned to Sorcha and how the latest batch of horses she trained was coming along, but Hakon only half-listened. His attention drew to the mighty arches and wide span of the great hall. A marvel of engineering and workmanship.

This mountain of stones was where his start would begin, and he relished the thought of leaving his mark on such a magnificent place.

He'd been given his chance. Now, he was determined to make a life for himself here, by the strength of his arm and depth of his skill. The life he'd dreamed had just begun.