Damien flew towards the Crimson Caldera. After the get-together he felt better than he had in a while and he’d slept like the dead. He woke up rested and eager to get started on his project. He’d left the tower at first light hoping to make the long journey in one day. Noon had come and gone an hour ago along with any chance of getting home before nightfall. Below him the mountains of the Crescent Range sped by.

Situated in the northeast corner of the kingdom, the Crimson Caldera took its name from the red-scaled drakes that nested on the lip of the pit. In the bottom magma bubbled, providing the heat necessary to hatch the great winged lizards’ eggs. What drew Damien to the inhospitable place was a report in the library that said a meteorite had struck the caldera a decade ago and no one had gone to collect it for fear of the drakes.

Meteoric iron was the purest in the kingdom and he wanted to get enough to make Jen’s sword. A shimmer of heat rose from the pit and Damien angled toward it. Though it was still August, this far north it was already getting chilly. It felt like they’d have a bad winter this year. He was eager to slice off a chunk of iron and head back.

Along the rim of the pit sat half a dozen stone nests formed from boulders as big as Damien was tall. Three of the nests held mature female fire drakes, their dull red scales, small head crests, and forty-foot length separating them from their brighter, smaller mates. Damien wrapped himself in invisibility. If the females were sitting on their nests they must have eggs and he certainly didn’t want to anger a nesting drake.

He flew over the pit. Down in the bubbling magma, bobbing like a cork on a pond, floated the meteorite. It was twice as big as his head and glowed cherry red. Damien conjured a thin disk of energy, set it to spinning, and launched it toward the chunk of iron.

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It hit with a wicked shriek and started cutting into the metal. On their nests the drakes screamed and arched their necks toward the sky. Guess they don’t like the noise. He didn’t blame them, the blade squeaked worse than nails on slate.

A bright red shape hurtled down out of the sky, missing Damien by a couple feet. The male drake rushed toward the cutting blade, intent on killing whatever was bothering his mate. Its wings snapped open a five feet from the magma and it lashed out with a talon.

The black claw hit Damien’s disk and got sliced off. The drake shrieked and swooped around for another pass.

Stupid beast, it couldn’t hurt his blade. It could only cut up its talons. Damien poured more power into the blade, hoping to get the metal he needed before the drake finished wheeling around for another pass.

The increased speed of the blade’s rotation made the screeching even louder, prompting the drakes to scream at greater volume. Damien conjured ear covers before he went deaf. The male finished its turn and once again dove at the blade, this time with its fanged mouth leading.

Not good.

The beast was about to lose its bottom jaw. He didn’t want to hurt the drake; he just wanted to get the iron.

Damien wrapped the drake in soul force and sent it plunging into the magma. It flopped around, annoyed but unharmed by the intense heat.

His blade finished cutting and the small chunk of iron slipped into the magma. Silence fell in the caldera, much to his relief. He formed a bubble of soul force around the small chunk and lifted it out of the magma. On a whim he grabbed the sliced-off talon as well. It might make a nice pommel for the sword.

Damien flew off with his prize and when he was a safe distance away released the male drake. The creature roared, trumpeting its victory over the now-vanished blade.