Krensh threw another ruined knife blade on the scrap heap and let his hammer and tongs fall to the ground. He hadn’t been sleeping, and his work was suffering. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head, drank some water. He considered melting another ingot and trying again, but decided not to waste his time. A cup of ale or two might steady his nerves. Hell, three or four might help him get some sleep.
Krensh walked down from the hill where his forge and hut stood. He watched the Nyburg trail as he went, just in case Serryl happened to return just then. But the trail was empty, and he arrived shortly at Yoniburg’s lone tavern. Throwing the door open Krensh saw that he was the only customer at this early hour. He pulled out a stool at the bar.
“Morning, Yugh,” Krensh said to the barkeep. “Ale, filled to the brim if you please.”
“Rough morning at the forge?” Yugh asked with raised eyebrow as he filled a cup.
“Haven’t been sleeping,” Krensh said. “You hear any news of Serryl?”
“I’m afraid not my boy.”
Krensh nodded, took the ale and began drinking. The tavern filled up as the day went on. Krensh didn’t count his cups, and was thoroughly drunk by midday.
When his cup was empty yet again he slammed it on the bar. “Yugh! More ale!” he hollered.
Yugh came to stand in front of him, took the cup and set it aside. “You’ve had plenty my boy,” the barkeep said. “Time to go home. You’ll sleep easy now.”
Krensh stared off, frowning. “There been any news of Serryl?” he asked.
“Nothing yet,” Yugh said. He reached over the bar and put a hand on Krensh’s shoulder. “She’ll turn up, don’t you worry. She’s tougher than that anvil you make her armor with, and you know it.”
“No, something’s wrong this time. She should have only been a day or two. Something’s wrong. Why aren’t we looking for her?”
“Well, nothing to do about it right now. Go and get some sleep-”
“No!” Krensh brushed Yugh’s hand from his shoulder and shouted as he jumped up from his seat. “Something’s wrong! Why aren’t we looking for Serryl?”
The din of the tavern died as folks turned to listen to the blacksmith’s outburst.
“You’re right, we could have a party put together, set out first thing tomorrow,” Yugh said kindly. “But you’re in no shape for it now. Right now you should get some sleep.”
“I’m not going home,” Krensh said. “I’m taking the Nyburg trail and asking after Serryl. Someone has seen her and they’ll know where she is.”
“Krensh I know you’re concerned. We all are, but there’s no trouble Serryl’s in that you’re going to save her from in your condition. What do you expect to do even if you find her?”
“Doesn’t matter. I have to try.” He turned to the still listening crowd. “Who will help me? I’d be glad for the company.” Krensh looked around the room. Eyes began avoiding his. Heads turned away, and the tavern’s patrons slowly returned to their cups and their conversations.
Krensh gave one last look at Yugh. The barkeep sadly shook his head, then turned his back and filled a cup for another patron.
“Cowards all!” shouted Krensh, but the room didn’t react. After a moment the blacksmith walked out the front door.
Several hours later Krensh had sobered up to find himself far from home along the Nyburg trail. He was hungry, cold and exhausted. In his rashness he hadn’t even stopped at his hut for his sword and helm. All he had carried when he left for the tavern was a table knife and a bag of coins.
Three riders appeared on the trail ahead, leisurely cantering toward him. Krensh stopped and waved as they approached.
“Hail!” called out the lead rider. She came to a stop in front of Krensh as the other two trotted past.
“Hail,” Krensh returned. He leaned forward with hands on knees to rest.
“You look a long way from home. Are you in trouble?”
“No, not in trouble,” Krensh said. “I’m looking for my friend. A warrior. She’s a bit shorter than me, braided brown hair. She wears a breastplate of brushed steel engraved with a moon and star, matching pauldrons and gauntlets, and a bronze and leather spiked cap. She would have come this way some ten days ago.”
“You know her armor well,” the rider commented.
“I ought to,” Krensh said. “I crafted it.”
“Indeed?” said the rider. Krensh noticed only then that she herself was armored, and carried mace and crossbow. “Is your friend beautiful?”
“What?” Krensh blushed. “No. I mean, probably. Well of course.”
The riders laughed, and Krensh realized the other two riders were right behind him. He was surrounded.
“I believe I did meet this warrior of yours,” said the leader. “On this very road, some ten days ago. I’ll tell you all about it. I can even take you to her. But first I’m going to need you to do me a favor.”
Krensh’s shoulders hunched up. “What’s that?”
“I need you to pile your possessions on the road in front of me, let my companions bind your arms and legs, and tell me about any rich relatives you might have.”
