Blacksmith Maleus. [https://i.imgur.com/6udbPbq.jpeg]

I did not know which way I should go. The village where the blacksmith lived could have been anywhere in the world. Somewhere on the horizon line, I could see some high hills or spurs of mountains.

I decided to try my luck and took the direction to the east, where the mountains towered.

I walked across the lifeless terrain, staring up at the empty sky, devoid of even a single cloud. The silence enveloped me as if all my life had gone far away from here. I had been walking for about an hour now, and the road began to descend as if taking me to the bottom of the world. The mountains visible in the distance seemed huge but were still out of reach.

After an hour of walking, I noticed some changes in the terrain and the first signs of human activity - a plowed field and stakes arranged in a pyramid. Each pole ended in a sharp spear-like tip. What are these - wooden spears?

The ground in the field looked dry and discolored as if it had not seen rain for a long time. It had been loosened so that the abandoned grains would sprout, and bring forth a harvest. Only there were no grains in the ground capable of sprouting.

My thoughts plunged into reflections on the harshness of this land. Here, where there is not even black soil, one should not expect a rich harvest. How do people survive here?

How nice it would be if this land gave a rich harvest of wheat and rye, oats, and buckwheat. I imagined the field blooming in the sunlight and the golden ears swaying in the wind, reminding me of the rich harvest and abundance.

A slight gust of wind brought me an incomprehensible noise. A mixture of flapping wings and shouts. Something was happening around the corner, hidden from my eyes.

After running a few hundred paces, I was already descending the sloping road, feeling the ground beneath me give way. Soon I saw the source of the noise. Its source was a young girl who was attacked by three huge black birds.

She was dressed in rags, but she held her ground with a long pole, which was her only weapon. She reeked of desperation, but there was determination in her movements.

Without thinking, I rushed to her aid, realizing that my adventure had begun. Forgetting my shotgun, I picked up a clump of dry earth lying by the roadside and threw it at one bird. With an ominous cry, the bird flew upward, turning its attention to me. The predator saw that I didn't have a pole to fight him off with, but she didn't know about the shotgun.

With a familiar gesture, I raised the shotgun upward, removed the safety, and when the bird came within forty yards of me, fired.

The bird of prey lost its head and fell to the ground in convulsions. The two remaining birds flew away with some inexplicable squawking instead of screaming. And I looked at the twitching body with mute regret.

- What have I done!? Maybe she just wanted to greet me and I shot her. Now, how would I be able to use magic? But if Nyx opened the Portal for the Warrior to kill dragons, then maybe it’s not as bad as I think.

The girl, stunned by the sound of the gunshot, squatted down. Her clothes, some rags the color of the ground, allowed her to blend in, to become invisible.

I figured she’d be in shock for a few more minutes, which would allow me to examine the dead thing. I called it a beast. And with good reason. A mouth full of sharp teeth. Claws capable of carrying a grown man. Powerful wings covered in black, stiff feathers. The bird’s vicious nature.

Now it is clear why at the edge of the field stood sharp stakes, made in a pyramid. Birds could attack a peaceful plowman, the stakes were meant for protection.

While I was looking at the bird, the girl left quietly. I didn’t even realize how. As I looked around, I noticed some scattered grains. Probably the girl was heading towards the field and was spotted by the beasts. During the attack, the birds snatched the bundle of grains and tore it up.

Picking up wheat scattered on the ground is a tricky business. What if...

I reached out my hand and whispered:

- Acervus frumenti! Grain in a pile!

I don’t think anyone else could use that spell. But it worked. The little grains stuck to my hand and soon, the scattered grain was collected. It was worth returning it to the mistress.

I continued on my way and soon saw a settlement. A dozen low huts dug into the ground. The cattle pens - goats, cows - were fenced with poles. The animals were bleating and mooing for food. Smoke spiraled lightly over the rooftops, creating a picture of peaceful life. The voices of small children playing their games rang in the air. A similar picture could be observed in our world. Forget for a while that you’re in a foreign land with such a terrible mission.

Finding the forge was no problem at all. Unlike the houses, it was not dug into the ground, its walls were made of stone, and its roof was made of tightly packed bundles of brushwood. The heart of the forge was a burning furnace that looked like the mouth of a dragon, blazing with burning coals.

The blacksmith's grubby assistant, a thirteen-year-old boy, was diligently swinging furs that were barely breathing. He worked very hard and seemed exhausted. His mentor, a blacksmith, was swinging a hammer and riveting a strip.

- Work faster Morty, pump it. We have a lot of work to do today. Can't you see there's not enough fire to heat these billets? You bum! The flame will soon go out. Don't sleep, Morty!

My arrival at the forge went unnoticed. The blacksmith and his apprentices continued to work, ignoring the stranger frozen in the doorway.

Without a word, I hung the shotgun on the wall and grabbed the handle of the blacksmith’s mech. With rhythmic motions, I blew the fire in the furnace to the desired temperature. The teenager watched me with a surprised look. With a quick movement, the blacksmith grabbed a long pair of tongs, grasped a bar of red-hot metal, and threw it onto the anvil. Morty armed himself with a large hammer, about to strike the billet. He stood, staggering slightly. It looked as if he might fall at the slightest draught.

I reached out, trying to grab the hammer from the teenager. The blacksmith looked at me for the first time, a mute question in his gaze:

- “Hey you! This is my forge! What are you doing here?”

Taking the hammer from Morty, I struck the anvil with it. The round bar is flattened with a single blow into a strip of the right size. The first billet was followed by the second. I raised and lowered the forging hammer, hitting the hot metal.

Together with the blacksmith, we riveted a dozen bars. Morty threw strips of metal into a trough of water. Steam filled the room, reminiscent of the steam room of a Russian bathhouse.

The blacksmith was the first to go out into the fresh air. He hung his tongs on a nail took a crumpled rag from his leather apron and wiped his wet forehead with it. I handed him a flask of water. After quenching our thirst with water, we began to get acquainted.

- Oris! - I introduced myself, giving my middle name.

- Maleus, — The blacksmith looked me over from head to toe again, as if trying to memorize me. Or he was looking for any sign of hostility in my appearance. Are you looking for work?

Nix informed me that one must earn a blacksmith’s trust. Maleus, it seems just given me that opportunity.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

- Thank you for your help. I don’t have a job. We’re on our own.

I didn’t know what to say. The girl who brought the blacksmith a jug of water saved the situation. She threw a fleeting glance in my direction and lost interest in me for a while.

- I couldn’t sow the field, — she said. - The beasts took me by surprise, and the grain scattered.

- It was our only seed, — Maleus said. - You were not hurt?

The girl nodded in my direction and said,

- He saved me. He killed one bird with his magic wand, and the other two flew away.

Morty grabbed my shotgun and started examining it. I had to take it back with a little effort.

- Morty! - shouted the blacksmith. - Behave yourself with our guests. Tomorrow you will go to the neighboring village and buy wheat from the headman.

I took out of my bag the grain I had collected from the ground.

- This is yours, — I handed the bag to the girl. We stood next to each other and I could scrutinize her. She was about sixteen years old. Blond hair, gathered in two fluffy ponytails, gray attentive eyes, charming smile. Clean and neat clothes. I would never have recognized the ragamuffin I met on the road. At the sight of the grain sack the girl smiled modestly, she stretched out a thin but strong hand.

- Mila, — said the blacksmith. - We are done for today, we will be back to the house soon. Let’s take a walk," he turned to me.

- You’re looking for work, — Maleus repeated his question a little thoughtfully. - What are you doing in these parts? Your clothes are unusual for these parts. Did you come from far away?

- I came here because of Nix.

I thought calling the old wizard’s name would be the key to all locked doors. The blacksmith did not react to the familiar name and continued to be thoughtfully silent. Then he stopped and looked at something. Following the direction of his gaze I saw a dragon flying high in the sky. Then I looked at the blacksmith again. Maleus’ facial expression had changed. His eyebrows frowned, and his gaze became scratchy. He stood for several moments, clenching his fists. He stood beside me, a tall, strong, intelligent man. The perfect example of a warrior. Why shouldn’t he take up his sword and slay the dragon? After all, this is his country, his homeland. It is every man’s sacred duty to protect his kin.

- Nix was waiting for the Warrior, and I showed up, — as if I was making excuses for trespassing on the blacksmith’s territory. - He said we’d get along.

- I’ll give you a job, — Maleus strode determinedly toward his house. I could barely keep up with him. - You can’t kill a dragon with an ordinary weapon, with an ordinary sword.

- Where to get an unusual one?

- I don’t know yet. Nix doesn't have an answer to that question either. Maybe we can work something out together.

I will skip a moment of introduction to the Maleus family. I will say that besides Mila, his son Morty, his mother and father, and the youngest daughter Lysa lived in the blacksmith’s house. The family lived in a large earthen house. Maleus’ parents looked like infirm old men. We ate some unleavened porridge and talked. The old people told us how bad their lives were. The land is lifeless, crops are scarce. Goats and cows eat dry grass. People are starving and the Pironaxa family has no pity....

- Are you talking about the country we visited? - Michael asked in surprise. - We saw a different picture.

- Don’t forget how many years passed between my first and our travels. Everything has changed...

We found a place to sleep in a closet. Grass mattress, thin walls. I lay there and listened to Maleus’ father snoring, and his mother mumbling in her sleep.

We woke up at sunrise, ate goat cheese for breakfast, or drank milk. Sometimes, we ate wheat porridge. I forgot the taste of meat and lost a little weight. Working in the forge took a lot of energy.

Some days, I helped to clean up the blacksmith’s small household. Fix the fence of the goat pen. Move the brushwood on the roof, and fix tools.

I helped Mila sow the field. While she spread the grains over the plowed ground, I watched the sky, shotgun in hand.

I didn’t look up at the sky all the time, of course. I liked the girl, I would have befriended her, but she shunned me, didn’t answer my questions, or laughed at my jokes. I didn’t understand the reasons for this behavior. She could have thanked me for saving her.

Her little sister, Lysa, found in me a loyal friend. We played hide-and-seek, inviting Morty to join us. I made her a rag doll out of an old shirt of my own, stuffed with straw. I sewed buttons on her eyes and drew her mouth with charcoal. The fox wouldn’t let the toy go day or night.

Maleus changed his attitude towards me. He talked more about his unhappy country. According to him, the dragons in Orkvalia came from somewhere outside. That’s why they were insensitive to magic spells. Swords and arrows couldn’t penetrate dragon armor.

A sword required a special metal. In the village, besides bronze, the names of other metals were unfamiliar. I listed mithril and adamantine, valeriant and elegrium. As soon as i said, "dragon metal," - Maleus perked up:

- That's the metal we need!

- Where do we get it? What kind of ore does it come from?

- I don’t know. - The blacksmith shrugged. - I don’t know if there’s anything like it around here. We should ask Nix if he knows where we can find such ore.

To ask Nix, we’d have to meet him. I asked Maleus if I could leave for a while. The blacksmith nodded his head in the affirmative.

- You don't have to ask my permission. I hired you because you're a free man. Because when you find out, you'll come back here anyway. Am I right?

When I went to find the village where Maleus lived, I felt like I was traveling to the ends of the earth. The return journey took much less time.

The bird I killed was a skeleton. The ground at the edges of the path leading to the hut had somehow darkened and no longer looked dry and lifeless. I noticed small flowers: yellow, blue, white. They were very small, barely recognizable.

The field Mila had sown had sprouted abundantly. It was as if the grain sack contained not two handfuls but ten pounds. The wooden stakes prepared to repel the air attack also gave green shoots.

I remembered Nix’s lessons on making kara-kora. Why not try to create a bird that no journey through the open countryside is complete without singing?

Imagining a six-inch bird in my hands was not difficult, I even remembered its peculiar coloring.

- Alauda arvensis!

I felt the little bird quivering in my hands. Opening my palms and releasing it was no trouble at all. Then again:

- Alauda arvensis.

I repeated the incantation and opened my palms many times. The larks, feeling free, flew in different directions. Soon, I heard first the hesitant and then the confident trills of these small-voiced birds. The road became much more cheerful.

Nix’s hut seemed deserted, but surprisingly the old wizard was there.

He was obviously pleased to see me. Maybe the old lonely man missed the lively companionship. Or maybe he was waiting for the information I'd gotten.

The first thing Nix offered me was his disgusting salad. I was hungry, so I didn’t refuse. During our meal, I told the wizard what I’d come back to him for.

- Dragon metal," Nix said thoughtfully. - Most likely it’s an invented name, I know nothing about it.

- But what if we take ordinary iron and work magic on it?