Chapter 1

Northend, where I currently resided, was, as its name suggests, at the far end of a long road from the south. Yes, it was possible to go further north, that is if you were prepared to risk a few miles in Dark Wood and then clamber up almost vertical cliffs to Dragon Mountain. I had heard of a few brave (read stupid) men, and they were always young men, who decided to try. Not one ever returned. No-one knows whether they even made it to the base of the cliffs as the wood itself held innumerable dangers. Dark Wood was actually a dense deciduous forest with few paths. Those that existed were made by the forest’s residents rather than by people. The largest were Roe deer and they didn’t need the space us humans do. Because of the density of the trees, little light reached the lower levels, hence the name, although many said the Dark indicated sinister rather than lack of light.

Dragon Mountain towered over the area, easily visible above even the tallest of trees. It was impossible to gauge the true height as it was unknown just how far away it was. It was named for the obvious reason that it was home to a large clan of dragons, which could often be seen in the far distance as they used the thermal updraughts the steep cliffs provided. They never bothered us mere humans, though legend has it that one or two rogue beasts tormented the town long ago. It was also said that such creatures are highly intelligent and any miscreants were strongly disciplined by the Dragon Court. Quite how that knowledge was obtained I wasn’t sure, as with everything that people didn’t actually know, they fell back on the myths told by their equally ignorant ancestors.

Whenever I spotted one of these magnificent creatures it always left me in two minds. I would have loved to behold their majesty close up, but also was afraid of what they would do if that should ever occur. I never got close enough to discover the answer to that question.

Although I thought it to be just another myth, rumours persisted that the shells for their young were made of pure gold. It was this, along with youthful arrogance, fuelled by alcohol, that persuaded our foolish youth to attempt to reach their nests. This golden tale was based on yet another story of questionable provenance, that dragons were attracted to sparkly things, especially gold.

Northend, despite its isolation, was a bustling town of medium size. Buildings were predominantly of wooden construction and had a single floor. We had all the assets, and liabilities of a city, just on a smaller scale. Crime existed but was on a very petty scale and usually alcohol related. It was easily handled by the Shire Reeve. What we did have was the best swordsmith in the land. Master Cohn was also a gifted mage, or wizard, or whatever the correct descriptor is. He was also a strict disciplinarian, as I, his apprentice, knew only too well. Fortunately, most of that was in the past, for I had learned, admittedly, the hard way. On his positive side, he was also very fair, as long as you followed his rules.

As it is so rare, not everyone is familiar with our world’s magic, so I’ll try and provide some further detail. Magic users are uncommon and their powers nothing like what most imagine them to be. I’ve heard many titles given to the weavers of magic and I can discern no difference, so for this tale I shall call them all wizards (even this simple word I have seen spelt with a double ‘z’). As changing base metal into gold was considered an impossibility, I shall ignore alchemists. Every wizard I know has one major ability and a small number of minor ones. Master Cohn’s speciality is forging his swords with his own magic. It makes the weapon, or should that be its wielder, almost unbeatable. What many of his customers never realise is that he also endows them with a sense of morality. In the hands of the wrong person, they become a mere sword, one with an extremely hot handle. You would need very thick and cumbersome gloves to use one.

More than one had been returned, though when re-purchased it was only ever for a small percentage of the original price. Master Cohn is, like most smiths, a powerfully built man. His greying temples are occasionally thought of as a sign of weakness, a thought that is soon abandoned when up close.

I am also gifted with magic, though mine takes an entirely different format. I can, and do, produce shields, not the sort a fighter might use to block a physical attack, but an energy shield that protects me from any attack, or at least any that I’ve so far encountered. I’ve recently been playing around with expanding it to cover other people, but haven’t really been able to test it properly yet. I’ve also had very limited success in binding my gift into a sword that I’ve forged. Master Cohn tells me that as I grow older, other abilities may be discovered. The main one I often need would be healing, especially where burns are concerned.

Part of my job is to collect firewood for our cottage. For the forge, Master Cohn buys in charcoal, but for personal use, I’m sent out to collect firewood. Over the almost ten years that I’ve been doing this, my trips have been longer and longer, as any nearby combustible materials have long since been gathered. Now, just about all the town’s firewood comes from the edges of Dark Wood. Collection time was also the time that I was most likely to come across other young men and women of the town, out on similar tasks.

Although most people in and around our town respect Master Cohn, they also fear him, not for what he has ever done, but because they don’t understand what he does do. It seems like it is human nature to fear what we don’t understand. This fear is also transferred, to a lesser degree, onto me. That means that I am avoided, especially by the young women and older girls that I do manage to come across. I get to admire their bodies only at a distance. Most my age are already married, especially the prettier ones, so would be off limits, even on the remote chance they were interested in me.

The young men, who despite their fear, or maybe because of it, would give me a hard time, as they did when I first arrived, now also avoid me. This time it is because of the physique any base metal smith develops when working a forge. Adding to the fact is that I am usually accompanied by one of the twins. I should thank those young men as it was their bullying that brought to life my first shield. As they tended to keep their distance, stone throwing was often used. Getting hit by one of these was painful and I recall one day thinking that a shield would be extremely useful. Low and behold, I had a shield, just by wishing for one. I did try wishing for other things like riches and girls, though I was blessed with neither. In hindsight, I wouldn’t have known what to do with either, though it would have been fun finding out.