Cassandra Pendragon

Viyara intercepted us after we had landed, slightly disheveled and out of breath. She seemed nervous and a bit distracted, wringing her hands while she told us that Ignus had taken off and had left Shassa in Mephisto’s care. If I had ever witnessed Karma’s Hand at play, that would have been the moment. A treacherous spider was at the sweet mercy of a frustrated demon. Sooner or later I’d have to save her from his clutches, but I wasn’t in a hurry. They could play for a while.

The dragoness wanted to speak to Ahri, alone, and since I still had a lot on my plate before sundown, we separated. The two of them strolled towards the cliffs, heads put together conspiratorially, Viyara whispering in Ahri’s ear. I wondered what the golden haired girl could possibly want from my fiancée that would make her act secretive, maybe even uncomfortable, but if it was anything worrisome, I certainly would hear about it soon enough. Besides, I was resolved to be a little less paranoid when it came to my friends, so I pushed the thought from my mind.

First things first, I had to find Mephisto, eventually, get the seed back from Erya and ask one of the dwarfs if a length of rope was missing. I expected the latter to take no more than 5 minutes but as it turned out, I was wrong. When I came close to the smithy and the adjacent stockpile of materials, I saw a line of small, stocky fellows waiting outside, twiddling their beards while curses and the rumbling of overturned boxes came from the inside.

“Did I miss something,” I asked as soon as I got near. Atosh, who was standing directly at the makeshift door, turned around and smiled at me, his blocky teeth a flash of white amidst his hair.

“Nah lass, me brother’s just lost his marbles. Clamouring on about a burial gift he’s misplaced. Threw all of us out so he could go looking. Give him a minute, he’ll calm down soon enough. What do yah need, anyways?”

“Only a quick answer. Are you missing a length of rope? About 20 meters?”

“Not that I’m aware of. But if yah want to know for sure, gotta wait till Krack, yah know, the quartermaster, gets down here. He’s got the inventory in his head, that one.” Even though I had just left him behind and had to either turn back or wait, I still had to smile. I had always thought that all dwarven names ended on -osch but I had obviously been mistaken. Or the poor guy had had some serious bad luck with his nickname, one of the two.

“I’ll talk to him tonight. And since you mentioned it: burial gift? I’m sorry to ask, but I’m not that familiar with your customs. Should we prepare something as well?”

“Hmm, the lads would surely appreciate the gesture, but yah don’t have to. Only the family and Xorlosh, as the leader, are expected to honour their services with grave goods. It doesn’t have to be something material either, a song or a short speech would do nicely. But it’s up to yah, if yah want to.”

“I’ll think of something,” I promised. “But I’d have to know what could be appropriate. What’s going to happen tonight? I’ve never been at one of your burials, I don’t even know if there ever was one on Boseiju. Could you perhaps tell me what your plans are for tonight?”

“Let’s see… first, yah gotta know that we don’t cremate our people, we bury them deep. Not in earth but in rock. We’ll have to dig pretty far down until we get through the upper layers of dirt around here. That’s the part when the closest of kin, usually a brother, speaks about the life of the fallen comrade, their achievements, their plans and what they left behind. We have four caskets to take care of, so that’s going to take a while. With the grave still open, we’ll have a feast in their memory, celebrate the good times, we’ve had. Only afterwards, will we place the grave goods inside, everybody who wants to will have the chance to say anything they want the dead to take with ‘em to the next life, we’ll pour a tankard of mead over the caskets and close ‘em up for good.” He hesitated before he asked: “Yah going to use the feast to announce your engagement, lass?” His face remained serious but his eyes sparkled mischievously as they roved across my bracelet. I could practically see the ears of every dwarf present prick up, as one poked the other in the ribs and several shuffled closer in anything but an inconspicuous manner.

“Does everyone know about that,” I asked, more amused than exasperated by now. Ahri had been right, I should take it as a compliment.

“Well, most of us helped make that thing, in one way or the other, so… yeah. We just weren’t sure when she’d find the courage to ask. So… are yah?”

“We talked about it, but… it’s the burial of your friends, we don’t want to do anything that might be taken the wrong way.”

“Don’t yah worry your pretty head about that. All of us, especially the ones who are gone, would appreciate a reason to celebrate and raise our mugs to something other than memories. If yah want to, I’m sure we’ll even be able to organise a bit of music for a proper engagement dance, or is that not something your people do?”

“It is and I’m not going to reject a chance to dance with Ahri. Anything I should know beforehand?”

“Nah, I’m sure you’ll get the gist of it quickly enough, it’s not complicated. The music starts and yah move, not much to it. If yah want to do us a favour and honour the dead, yah’ll help turn this night into one to remember. Yah could also hit two of ‘em birds with one stone and dedicate the dance to the lads who can’t watch it no more. That would make for a fine parting gift.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind. I guess I’ll better be off, then. I still have to find a cranky demon and take away one of his toys. You don’t happen to know where he’s hiding?”

“Not sure, but I saw him heading towards the forest. Yah’ll find him in there somewhere. But I wouldn’t leave, just yet. Yah know, the lads have been working like mad men and we’re mostly done with the armour yah wanted. If yah hang on a couple more minutes, till me brothers done with his rampage, yah could try it on. See if it fits.” Now, that was a proposal I couldn’t turn down. What had it been? Around 5 days since I had asked? Oh my, they really had been working like crazy to make that happen.

“Thank you! I thought it’d take weeks, not days, even though I do hope that I won’t need the armour in the near future. Could you tell me who’s had a hand in making it?”

“Well, that would be us, Xorlosh, Etosh, Brombolosh and me. We swung the hammer and made the design but your girl made it possible. She and that dragon of yours, their flames were what allowed us to get our camp forge up to temperature. Oh, and that horned fey you brought along, what was her name, Erya. She poured some of her magic into the mix while yah have been out cold. At least when she wasn’t busy jumping your brother’s bones.” Alright, so that bit hadn’t stayed private, either. Just as well, I’d have hated being the only one in the family who provided a source for gossip. And maybe it would even shut him up when he saw the bracelet, but I wasn’t convinced.

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I took a step forward and kissed Atosh on the cheek. “You didn’t have to hurry that much… but I do appreciate it. Thank you, again. I really hope I can one day repay everything you, all of you, have done for me and my people.” He blushed profusely and spluttered a little when he answered. I still thought it funny that a mixture of muscles and stubbornness became flustered so easily and had to suppress a grin as he stammered:

“Don’t mention it, lass. You’re good people, all of yah. Yah don’t have to thank us for common decency and yah’ve already proven that yah’ll fight and bleed with the best of us. I’d much rather yah called me a friend instead of thanking me and I’m sure me brother and cousins will see it the same way. As for the armour… it’s already been payed for and we’re all quite proud that a princess, an immortal one at that, is going to wear our craftsmanship. Just… try to keep it in one piece a little longer than your clothes, would yah?”

“I’ll do my best,” I smiled. “And Atosh… I think friendship hardly covers, what you are to me. Whether you want to hear it or not, for me, all of you are heroes, who saved us when they didn’t have to. You’re kind and courageous… you aren’t friends, you’re family.” This time around, all of the dwarfs who had heard me blushed, not just him. For a bunch of fearsome warriors they could be quite sweet. By now I was more or less convinced that I’d get anything I could possibly want from them with a kiss and a smile… and maybe a tankard of mead, or two.

What I had said to Mephisto back when we had first met came to mind: Imagine all my power paired with a pretty face and sparkling eyes, followed by a half remembered quote from Lucifer when he had carried a young Greta through a dying world: all beautiful things are dangerous. Beauty was a weapon, just as much as magic or a spear, maybe even more so. And like any weapon, it could as easily be used to protect and defend as it could be used to hurt and destroy.

“Lass, that was a darn nice thing of you to say.” Xorlosh’s deep bass easily drowned out the creaking door as he stepped into the sun, his beard and hair full of charcoal dust. His dark shirt, woollen trousers and hands were liberally smeared with oil and soot. He didn’t simply look like he had climbed through a forge, he even smelled like it, acrid smoke and the scent of burned metal strong enough to make my nose twitch.

“I think me eyes are watering, gotta be the light out here. Who could have known, when it comes down to it, your people skills aren’t that shabby after all.” No, they probably weren’t. But I still had to learn how, or rather when to use them.

“I meant every word,” I replied quietly.

“I know you do, Cassandra, I know you do.” He offered me his hand but I pulled him into a hug, even though I had to supplement my muscles with quite a bit of energy to move him just a little bit. With a surprised grunt he stumbled forwards until I caught him. “Thank you,” I said.

He stiffened in surprise for the fraction of a second before he returned the hug wholeheartedly. “Don’t mention it, lass. Now, why don’t you come inside? The lads and me have something to show you, but I imagine me cousin has already run his flabby mouth. We’ve got far enough with your armour that you can try it on. See if we need to change or adjust anything.” He stepped back and headed through the still open door, beckoning for me to follow. When he turned around, I could have sworn he wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye but he vanished in the dark much too quickly to say for sure.

Atosh joined me when I made my way into the smithy, while everybody else remained outside, their quiet whispers cut off as soon as the door closed behind us. I entered a surprisingly spacious room with wooden walls and a large, open vent in the ceiling. There were no windows, the only source of light was the huge fire of the furnace, which shone in a supernatural display of colours, crimson red, gold and even green sparks played across the glowing embers. The smithy was unbelievably warm, it almost felt like I had to push through a veritable wall of heat and the sharp smell of molten metal to get inside. Immediately sweat formed on my brow and my eyes began to water in the thick air. With every step, fine grains of rock, almost like sand, crunched under my boots while my vision slowly adjusted to the dim light. It felt like I had just entered an underground cave, not a makeshift hut on a tropical island.

The burning coals sent flickering shadows dancing along the walls and over a mighty anvil, which was placed directly at the centre, all kinds of tools hazardously arranged around it. Hammers, files, tongs, an oil bath and several heavy leather gloves laid on the ground and while I could see the shelf they had been taken from, Xorlosh had obviously thrown everything into disarray in his frantic search for whatever he had lost.

To my right, a stack of materials, small mithril ingots, steel bars, different woods, unworked iron and heavy, oaken boxes filled with gems, some of them open some closed, reached almost to the ceiling, everything one could possibly need, a comfortable arms reach away from the forge. To my left, a work bench, covered in metal shavings and burn marks occupied the whole width of a wall. As I looked around, I couldn’t see anything finished, though. Whatever they produced was probably directly taken away and put to use, or stored on one of the ships. The only exception was a rack, covered in rough cloth, which had been shoved out of the way and was now leaning against the far wall. I couldn’t quite make out the shape of what was underneath the raw linen, but with a little imagination, the cloth might have just followed the lines of a set of plate armour.

“No need to be shy,” Xorlosh said. “Come on in. It looks a mess right now, but we won’t need that much space, will we?” He shuffled over to the rack and removed the covers with one deft motion. Frankly, it was somewhat underwhelming. I didn’t even know what exactly I had expected, but the tarnished plates of mithril were hardly recognisable as a piece of armour. To me, it looked more like a pile of discarded junk then anything else.

“So, what d’yah think,” Atosh asked.

“Huh… it’s… uh…” I knew I sounded crestfallen and disappointed but I couldn’t help it. Dwarfs were supposed to be wizards when it came to metal working and the parts over there looked like they had been made by a short sighted toddler with only a vague understanding of anatomy and the purpose of armour. While I was still scrambling for words, the undersized miscreants erupted with ringing laughter, Xorlosh even had to grab onto the workbench to keep his balance.

“Lass, you should’ve seen your face. Priceless... I assume you’ve never had anything personalised for you by a blacksmith? No? Well… There’s no point in polishing or even hammering out the exact shape unless the joints are in the right place and move as they are supposed to. That’s what y’re here for. You can put it on over your clothes, it’s designed to be worn over a gambeson or thick, lined leather. There’s going to be some wiggle room with what y’re currently wearing but that shouldn’t be a problem. You do know that you need something beneath a plate to cushion the blows that hit your armour, right? Good. The joints will still align the same way and we’ll have you move around a bit, fly, do some cartwheels and jumping jacks, the usual. If the joints lock or hinder you in anyway, we’ll have to change most of the surrounding parts to get rid of that. That’s why it’s looking… rather unfinished right now, but trust me, once we know everything works as it’s supposed to, me and the lads will have it finished in a jiffy. Come on then, let’s get you canned.”

It didn’t take long until I was feeling more like a cheap tin man from Oz than anything else. My back was covered in a series of overlapping joints, almost like scales, with the base of my wings and tails left out. The same construction circled around my hips, shoulders and stomach while my chest was hidden behind a solid, tight fitted metal plate. My thighs, shins and arms were equally protected by forged mithril with a complex looking joint at the knee that mirrored the one at my elbow. Combined with a raised steel collar that protected my neck, I must have looked ridiculous.