Sirens and Scales

by Kellie McAllen

  Morgen tisked. “Countless times.”

  “Opportunity waits for no man or woman. You must watch for it and grab hold when it nears.” Tybalt folded his doublet and set it on the trunk. “You cannot look after me forever, liebling. What about your own life and dreams?”

  Years had passed since she’d accepted that she would never find a smith who would train her. Her father had a point, but the thought of leaving his side pained her.

  Tybalt glanced toward the darkened doorway in the candlelight. “There is nothing I treasure more than you, which is why I wish to keep you safe as I seek gems so I may provide you a proper home. When those thieves came upon me, my thoughts were only for your safety. This is no life for you. I know you do not like traveling from one place to another.”

  “I do not mind it,” she interrupted.

  He shook his head and waved his hands in response. “You have always preferred to take root—I know this. Do not tell me otherwise. For the first time, we have met a smith who has welcomed you into his workshop.”

  “A grumbly goat,” she muttered.

  “I daresay you would be too if you had lived alone as long as he. I trust him. He has honest eyes and a kind heart despite what you might think. You may frustrate him, yet he still goes to fetch you a pan if you wish it.”

  Morgen scoffed. “I frustrate him?”

  “Misunderstandings and stubbornness are what you both suffer from.”

  She opened both cupboards into their beds and sighed. “That may be, but I will not leave you even if that costs me knowledge of smithing.”

  “Stubborn girl.” He shook his head again and climbed into his enclosed bed.

  Morgen lay awake for some time before finding sleep, thinking about their discussion. Her father saw the best of everyone, finding reasons behind behaviors. This was why she was so careful, protective. One of them needed to withhold trust until it was earned.

  That morning when the stranger had ridden up, she was admittedly a little defensive. She could tell Emich didn’t want the man there, and she didn’t like how pompous he was. It was a curious thing though.

  Morgen couldn’t understand why Emich insisted they stay to the house for safety from the dragon, but told the stranger the beast had flown west some time ago. If there weren’t dragons nearby, why couldn’t she walk about more freely? It didn’t make sense.

  But none of it mattered anyhow. She and her father would leave in another day, and she wouldn’t need to worry about it anymore. Before she knew it, her eyes were closed, and she was dreaming of a dragon curled around the house, protecting her from the outside world.

  That evening when he retired to his sleeping quarters, Emich waited for the sounds from the neighboring room to quiet down before sneaking out of the house by way of the secret tunnel. When Gelfrat had departed earlier that day, Emich could tell the man wasn’t satisfied with his response. He was a curious fellow—and as far as Emich was concerned, curiosity was dangerous.

  He made his way through the forest to the clearing that descended to the rocky ledge. The deep blue sky was filled with stars. Careful not to take a misstep, he edged down the slope. He peeled off his clothing and shoes, shivering in the chilly night air. He didn’t waste a moment in calling to his power. Every pore awakened and surged with energy as he felt the change take over.

  No longer did he stand on the cliffside as a naked man. A black silhouette of a dragon shined blue in the moonlight. His eyes were made for darkness, and he put them to good use. Emich scanned the horizon and lifted his snout to the wind. Thin spires of smoke rose into the night, many of which he’d seen before and had expected to see. But it was the nearest eastern column of smoke from a smoldering fire that drew his attention.

  Emich opened his wings and ran off the ledge. He cupped the air current, using his strength to carry him along the valleys, and flew closer to the spire of smoke rising from a sparse grove of birch. It came from no home, but from a campfire.

  As quietly as he could, he circled until he found an open clearing where he could touch down. With his feet on the ground, he let out a soft breath and crept closer to the origin of the fire. His eyes cut through the dim, searching for movement until he finally found it.

  Beside the smoldering fire, he spotted a body. It rolled over, and a man’s grunt disrupted the silence. Emich had little room to weave between tree trunks without making the leaves quake and rattle. Though he wished to get even closer, he couldn’t. Beyond the pale, pockmarked trunks, he saw bright-yellow fabric beneath the man’s cloak. He had found Gelfrat.

  He spent much of the night deciding what to do now that he’d found the man so close to the mountainside that held the entrances to his mines. He couldn’t allow him to remain in the area. Emich waited until he sensed morning drawing near before he started shaking the trunk of a nearby tree.

  The birds that called the tree home began to chirp and flew down to scold him. When they got a closer look, they darted away, frightened of the giant creature crouched on the forest floor. The natural forest sounds woke the sleeping man. He sat up with his hair more tangled than a bramble and yawned. He squinted through the trees at the light beginning to fill the sky to the east.

  Gelfrat groaned and began collecting sticks and twigs to throw on the cold coals. He found a freshly downed branch, which he tried sawing with his sword. Emich was enthralled watching this man try to survive in the wild, for it was clear to him that Gelfrat had never lived beyond the comfort of town.

  The self-described dragon slayer finally gave up trying to collect firewood from the green branch and returned to his horse and pack, making Emich question how he’d ever started his campfire to begin with. Gelfrat produced some bread from his satchel and began ripping off mouthfuls. He sat on the ground chewing while rubbing his arms for warmth.

  As amusing as it was observing such a conceited man trying to survive in the wild, Emich needed to return home. He didn’t want Morgen to notice his absence. After all, Gelfrat wasn’t the only curious one.

  Emich prepared himself for his performance. He returned to the open area he’d landed in last night and yawned. The noise that erupted from his chest made the ground shake. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gelfrat jump up and stumble forward. The man tripped over his half-charred fire and yelped.

  Emich would have laughed if he could. Instead, more deep sounds poured from his mouth. He waited for the man to collect himself and jump on his horse before taking flight. Emich circled the skies until Gelfrat came riding out at a fast trot. Then he started gliding northwest—the opposite direction from home.

  He normally avoided flying in daylight, but this case was an exception. Allowing Gelfrat to remain, stumbling around his mountain, was not an option. He needed him gone.

  Emich took his time leading the pompous dragon-slayer away. He made sure Gelfrat saw him at all times, and only once he was confident his direction was clear did he drop out of sight. Emich circled back, flying low in the valleys where he wouldn’t be seen, and swept back up to the cliff side perch he’d started from.

  He didn’t waste any time returning to his human form and getting dressed. Emich went straight to his workshop, put on his leather apron and started the forge.

  He hadn’t been there long before he sensed her in the doorway.

  She walked inside and said, “I did not see you get up—I thought you were still sleeping.”

  He sniffed. “Clearly, I am not.”

  Emich picked up the blade he’d been working on over the last few days and took it to the grinding wheel. “Do you wish to learn something new?”

  She hurried to his side, having forgotten his unexplained absence. “Ja.”

  He sat down at the stool positioned before the upright stone wheel and put his feet on either side on the pedals. Emich began pumping his legs slowly, gaining speed while turning the grinder. “It must go at this pace so I may smooth the steel properly. Are your legs strong enough?”

  Morgen pushed
on his shoulder. He took that as a yes. He got up and moved out of the way so she could sit down. She began to pedal, but the skirts of her dress caught on the grinder. She was quick to pull them free and arrange them above her knees. When she looked up at him, he was quick to avert his eyes, pretending he hadn’t been watching the whole time.

  “I wish they made breeches for women,” she muttered. Then she looked up at him. “You probably think me mad for saying so.”

  He shrugged. It was an unconventional and improper concept, but it made sense to him that she wouldn’t want to get caught in the machinery.

  She started again, successfully this time, with her hands resting on her knees. He noticed her calf muscles and surmised she’d taken many long walking trips with her father throughout her lifetime.

  She began to pant from the effort. “Feels like running up a mountainside.”

  Emich moved to stand beside her and the grinder, poured some water on the stone, and prepared to press the flat side of the forged blade against the spinning stone wheel. “Can you endure?”

  She nodded. “On with it.”

  He touched the blade to the stone and heard the familiar scraping sound. A spray of long sparks fell away from the point of contact. She continued to pedal as he worked on the blade. He knew her legs worked tirelessly above his line of sight to keep the grinder moving quickly. He fought with himself not to lift his gaze to search for a glimpse of her pale skin.

  He continued to smooth the knife’s surface, sharpening its blade and keeping his focus on his work. Emich knew Morgen was tired, but she didn’t protest or ask to stop. She kept pedaling. He suspected she might continue until the sun touched the mountaintops unless he put an end to it.

  “Enough for now,” he said and set the blade on his worktable.

  The sound of the wheel turning was replaced by her heavy breathing. He’d heard of other smiths building their workshops on streams or rivers to power their bellows and grinders, but he did not live in such a location. He snuck a glance her way and watched her wipe the sweat from her brow.

  “You should take a break. Go down to the lake if you like,” he suggested.

  She stood up and braced her hands at her sides before nodding and heading outside. She continued across the meadow to the water’s edge and leaned down to dip her hands in.

  The afternoon went by faster than he would have liked. Due to his urging, the father and daughter pair had remained, but only for a day. The following day he would again be alone and without company.

  He ate in silence when Morgen handed him dinner and kept telling himself it was better this way. It was better being alone so his secrets remained hidden. Plus, he would soon need more steel. That would require a trip to the mines, and it was certainly better to be alone for that.

  At bedtime, he stepped into his room, forcing himself to think of all the things he needed to do. He lay awake, staring up into the curtains around his bed, failing miserably at keeping Morgen from his thoughts.

  It was well into the depths of the night when soft noises from the hall woke him. He got up, wearing only his tunic and a pair of undershorts. Emich opened his door slowly, peering into the darkened room. Movement caught his eye.

  He stepped out and spotted Tybalt creeping toward the threshold leading into the byre. The older man stopped and turned around. His voice came out in a whisper. “Please. Do not wake her.”

  “Are you leaving?” Emich asked, confused.

  Tybalt crept closer to him. “I presume you have no children of your own. If you did, you might understand the need to protect them from harm.”

  “How do you know she is safe with me?”

  Tybalt raised his eyebrow and looked him dead in the eye. “Is she?”

  Emich nodded. He was no threat to the young woman, no matter which form he took. “She will be safe with me.”

  “Just as I expected. You said she could stay, so I took you at your word.” Tybalt wet his lips and whispered, “I swear I will come back for her when the season is over so I may repay your kindness. I ask you keep her safe and bar her from following me. She is a good help and will earn her keep.”

  Emich returned the man’s earnest stare and began to feel uneasy. “She works harder than most. But she does not listen to me.”

  Tybalt sighed and adjusted his armload of fabric-wrapped belongings. “She is headstrong. Always has been. She does not trust easily. So long as you are worthy of it, she will be as loyal as the winter is long.”

  The older man opened up a small leather sack, pulled something out and set it on the dining table. From where Emich stood, he thought he made out the shape of a door knocker.

  Tybalt laid his fingers on it and looked up at him. “Tell her home is wherever she is, and that I will return to her.”

  “Wait—” Emich walked through the dark to the cabinets and pulled out a loaf of bread. He shoved it in a woolen sack, then went to the hearth where the sausages hung from a hook. Keeping only a few for himself, he packed the rest and handed the supplies to Tybalt, who accepted them graciously. “The chestnut mare should handle the trails well.”

  Tybalt exhaled and patted Emich’s shoulder. “Thank you, young man.”

  Emich watched wordlessly as the man crept into the byre. The horses rustled in the adjoining room. Soon after, the sound of the barn doors opening and shutting met his ears.

  He stood there for some time, staring at the item Tybalt had left on the table. He didn’t know why he had offered a place for Morgen in his household. The pains of keeping his secrets would be troublesome with such a curious woman around. He hoped he wouldn’t have cause to test her loyalty, for it could mean the loss of his familial home and land. Or even his head.

  12

  Morgen opened her eyes to the dark confines of her bed compartment. “Papa, are you up?”

  Her hands pushed open the cupboard doors, and she slipped her legs out. The doors to her father’s lower bed were already open. She dropped onto the wooden chest below and saw he wasn’t there. He must have gotten up to prepare for their departure.

  Morgen hurried to get ready. She pulled the maroon dress over her head and tightened the fastenings so it was cinched around her waist. Next she folded her other clothing, stacked it neatly and pressed it to her breast. She had nothing else to take with her on their journey, so she left the room and entered the hall.

  She expected to see her father at the dining table, waiting for his meal, but he wasn’t. One of the kitchen shutters had been opened, revealing the deep blue twilight of the morning, and the hearth had already been lit. Its soft, warm glow touched everything in the room. A man sat on the bench at the dining table, but it wasn’t her father.

  Emich turned to look at her as she entered the room. Dark circles marked his eyes, and she wondered if he’d slept poorly. Maybe that was why he wasn’t in his workshop. Or maybe it was because he wanted to send them off with a proper goodbye.

  “Is Papa preparing the horse?” she asked, starting to feel uneasy.

  Emich return his gaze to the fire and lifted himself from his seat. His shoulders slumped. “Nein.”

  Something wasn’t right. Morgen’s chest tightened, and she ran to the byre, counting the horses. There were only two, not the three she’d seen yesterday. She hurried back to the kitchen where Emich now stood, waiting for her, and she dropped her folded clothing on the floor.

  “He has gone?” She panted. “How long ago? I can still catch up.”

  Emich walked toward her and she stepped back. “He wanted you to stay.”

  She began to panic. Never had she been without her father’s companionship. “How do I know you did not murder him and feed him to the dragons?”

  Emich held her gaze. “I did not hurt your father.”

  “But you said we were to stay to your meadow because of the dragons.”

  He shook his head and appeared conflicted about something. When he spoke, he did so slowly and assuredly. “He is safe from the dragon. I
swear it.”

  Then she noticed the simple twisted iron door knocker sitting on the dining table. She picked it up and clutched it to her chest.

  “He left that for you.” Emich frowned. “Said home is where you are and that he will return. Something like that.”

  She sniffed, not wanting his absence to be a reality. Holding the knocker in her hands, she knew he had left just as Emich had said. Her choice had been taken away from her. She didn’t care if Tybalt thought he knew the best thing for her. She was a grown woman.

  Morgen closed her eyes.

  Emich’s deep voice filled the room. “Will I need to watch you? I gave my word to look after you. I have no time to go chasing you down the mountain.”

  Morgen wiped a tear from her cheek. “Do not worry yourself. I would not cost you time at your forge. I will do as my father asked, though it pains me to do so.”

  He seemed to rethink his next remark and softened his tone. “I would do anything to have my father back so that I might follow his will.”

  “But what if mine does not return?”

  He had no answer for that, and neither did she. Morgen picked up her clothing from where she’d dropped it on the floor. Feeling numb and not entirely herself, she took her things back into her room. She lifted the long wooden trunk that sat before the box-bed to put her belongings inside, including the treasured door knocker.

  Noises came from the main hall, and she reluctantly went into the kitchen, where Emich was preparing hot cereal. He looked up at her. “Do you wish some breakfast? I have been told it is best to start work with a full stomach.”

  She shook her head, unable to find amusement in his remark. “I have no appetite.”

  He continued to go about making his meal while she sat at the dining table. She traced her fingernails along the grain of the wood and thought about her father. He was easy prey for thieves traveling on the same route. If he was successful finding emeralds, he’d have a cold journey back before the snows touched the mountains. Tybalt was just as ornery as she was. Or maybe it was she who possessed the trait because of him.