Page 15

Chapter 14

T he wagon rumbled along the winding path, jostling me with each bump and dip in the road. I sat rigidly on the wooden seat, acutely aware of Vorgath's large form beside me. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Strands of hair escaped my bun, tickling my cheek as the wind whipped past us.

I snuck a glance at Vorgath, noting how carefully he maintained the space between us. His hands gripped the reins loosely, his posture relaxed yet somehow distant. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the steady clip-clop of the horses' hooves and the creaking of the wagon.

The past few days had been a blur of hammering, shaping, and polishing as we raced to finish Grimble's commission. After that night—after the kiss—everything had shifted. Each moment beside him left my skin humming with tension, each accidental brush of his arm sent a jolt through me.

And yet, neither of us spoke of it. Vorgath had respected my retreat, never once pushing, never once questioning. His words were brief, measured—just business. And though his presence remained steady, solid as ever, it was as if there was now a chasm between us, wide and impossible to bridge.

It wasn’t resentment or hurt that I sensed from him, though. No, it was something else—patience. He was giving me space. Space to breathe. Space to figure out what I wanted. And the worst part? I wasn’t sure what that was anymore. I was terrified I'd ruined everything.

But now, as we made our way to Stonevale for the Tinkerer's Faire, a flicker of excitement pushed aside my nerves. I'd never been to the village before, let alone its famous artisan festival. Stonevale wasn’t large—more of a quiet, industrious town where dwarves and other races had settled after the Shadowfall War. It wasn’t just known for survival; it was known for innovation. The dwarves, especially, had earned a reputation for their ingenious inventions and craftsmanship, even after being forced to abandon their ancestral home near the Crystal Caves when dark magic made the land uninhabitable.

Still, they hadn’t let that stop them. Stonevale had become a hub of ingenuity, with the Tinkerer's Faire at its heart—a gathering where their latest inventions were displayed, celebrating both craft and progress. And we, with our ceremonial axes tucked in the wagon behind us, were about to contribute, which made my stomach churn with both excitement and nerves.

“Are you comfortable?” Vorgath's deep voice startled me from my thoughts.

I forced a light laugh. “Oh, yes. Though I'm not sure my backside will ever forgive me for subjecting it to this seat.”

A ghost of a smile touched Vorgath's lips, but he didn't turn to look at me. “We can stop to stretch our legs if you need.”

“No, no,” I said quickly. “I'm fine, really.”

“Are we there yet?” Elias’s voice piped up from behind us.

“Almost,” I called back. “You’ll know when we arrive because you won’t be able to stop your eyes from popping out at all the interesting things the dwarves have made.”

A small, conspiratorial giggle rose from the wagon’s back. Elias, wedged between our supplies and Grimble’s axes, was too excited to sit still—his legs swinging and his head darting side to side, trying to catch a first glimpse of the settlement.

“Like what?” he asked, his voice awash with genuine curiosity.

It was Vorgath who answered: “Tools. Machines that help with mining. Artifacts that can store energy.” His brow furrowed in concentration as he mentally rifled through examples. “I use one of their forge-stokers in my workshop. It pulls in air from below and funnels it through the fire, keeping the flames steady without needing someone to constantly work bellows.”

“I'm also a tinkerer,” Elias said, and I heard him clambering through the wagon to get closer to us until, finally, his little face popped up between us.

“That so?” Vorgath asked.

“Yup!” Elias nodded enthusiastically, his brown curls bouncing. “I'm really good at making things. Like... like Mrs. Crumble’s flowerpots! I put holes in them with a stick, and now water gets out the bottom when it rains.”

“Ingenious,” Vorgath agreed.

He tugged the reins a little, steering the horses down a slightly rockier path as the trees began to thin, and Elias slid back down into the bed of the wagon.

“How much farther?” Elias's voice floated up to us again after just a few moments of silence.

“Not long now,” Vorgath rumbled, keeping his gaze ahead. “You'll know when you smell it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Smell what?”

Vorgath grunted, that almost smile making another ghostly appearance. “Fresh-baked bread and enchanted sulfur.”

“Enchanted sulfur?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, already imagining the disaster Elias would cause if he got his small hands on anything volatile at the Faire. I pictured myself running through Stonevale after my boy while he gleefully lugged a bag of mystical rocks behind him, yelling, “They pop in all colors when you throw 'em, Mama!”

Vorgath must have sensed my concern because he added gruffly: “The sulfur's contained. Only released by the magic smiths during demonstrations. No danger as long as everyone is careful.”

I blinked up at him. “Have you met my son?”

There was a strangled sound that might have been a laugh, though Vorgath covered it with a cough. “I'll keep an eye on him.”

Reassured by Vorgath's presence and words, I let out a long breath, leaning back against the hard seat, only slightly jealous of Mrs. Crumble's brownie ability to apparate.

Minutes later, Vorgath slowed the reins as we approached the entrance of Stonevale. Large stone pillars flanked a half-constructed gate, the intricate carvings already hinting at the skilled hands of dwarven artisans. Dwarves weren’t the only ones here, though—elves, humans, and a few fae moved about the outpost, working alongside the guards dressed in stout boots, leather aprons, and helmets that seemed both protective and ceremonial.

A dwarven guard stepped forward, squinting up at Vorgath. “Ironfoot’s guests?”

Vorgath grunted in affirmation. “Aye. We’ve brought the ceremonial axes.”

She gave a brisk nod. “Carry on then. Grimble’s set up in the far square.”

As soon as we passed the gate, the scents hit me all at once. Vorgath had warned me, but I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming blend of overheated metal and fresh-baked goods. Sticky buns, stews, and what had to be an entire farmyard’s worth of sizzling meats mingled in the air, drawing my attention as we navigated the bustling streets.

Stonevale teemed with life, a colorful clash of shops and stalls pressed together, their owners shouting over the noise of the crowd. Humans and elves haggled with dwarven merchants, while fae artisans displayed their wares next to dwarven inventions—crossbows that could fire multiple bolts, enchanted pendants that hummed soft tunes, and delicate silver-wire spinning tops that seemed to defy gravity—just to name a few.

One tall apparatus—a thin pole attached to a rotating gear with small metallic birds fluttering in perfect synchronization—caught Elias's eye. “Whoa! Mama, look! Those birds are flying!”

“They’re not real, sweetheart,” I said, leaning closer over the edge of the wagon to get a better view. “They're machines. Beautiful little machines.”

“Can we make one at home?” Elias asked.

I laughed, but before I could answer, Vorgath responded in his quiet, steady way. “Takes years to perfect. Precision gears. Specialized metals. But…” He glanced down at Elias. “We can try to make something simpler. Start small. One step at a time.”

Elias practically vibrated with excitement. “Really? Could we?”

“It appears you’ve roped yourself into a fine tinkering mess now, Vorgath,” I teased.

He grunted slightly. “Not a mess if it’s made properly.”

We kept going, Vorgath expertly guiding the horses through the town. Tents sprouted like mushrooms among the buildings—colorful, mismatched fabrics tied onto wooden frames, flapping in the breeze. The air buzzed with activity, the clattering of gears and the incessant hum of machinery. Steam hissed from what I could only guess were miniature boilers powering all sorts of fantastic inventions, and countless tinkerers bustled about, making last-minute adjustments.

Just then, a familiar booming laughter echoed through the square, and a whirlwind of red beard and leather barreled toward us with all the grace of an animated boulder.

“Vorgath Steelbane, you ol’ brute! And you’ve brought the widow blacksmith!” Grimble Ironfoot hollered, loud enough to make heads turn.

Grimble was his usual self—delighted and slightly chaotic, with bits of ash in his wild red beard and singed eyebrows that told me he’d been toying with something explosive.

“You know, most people just wave,” I called out with a grin, hopping down from the wagon.

Grimble threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “Not in Stonevale, lass! Not where hugs put you back together after a long day dodging fireballs at the forge!”

“Gracious, Grimble,” I chuckled, dodging a too-enthusiastic pat on the back as he turned his attention to Vorgath and slapped him on the shoulder with enough force to knock over a smaller man. Vorgath simply grunted in return.

“You’ve outdone yourself again, haven’t you?” Grimble said, eyeing the wagon’s contents. He inspected one of the polished ceremonial axes, his fingers brushing over the intricate carvings. “These will more than do the job,” he muttered in awe. “More than do it.”

Elias, of course, couldn’t care less about the ceremony. He was already hopping around, eyeing the dwarven inventions scattered throughout the square, barely able to contain himself. I was about to tell him to calm down when Grimble turned toward him.

“Ah, little master Elias, is it?” Grimble grinned. “Ever been to a Tinkerer's Faire?”

“No, sir!” Elias puffed up his chest. “But I’m ready to see everything!”

Grimble let out a booming laugh. “Lad, I’ll make sure ye see it all! But first, you’ll be needin' a bit of steady feet if you’re planning to explore everything without gettin’ lost in the crowd.” He pulled a small, gleaming device from his pocket—what looked like a mechanical compass with a tiny silver bird perched on top.

Elias’s eyes widened. “What’s that?”

“This here’s a Finder. She points ye to wherever yer heart wants to go.” He winked, then held it out to Elias. “Why don’t ye tell her what you seek, lad?”

Elias reached out cautiously, fingers brushing the gleaming device with reverence. Then he screwed up his face in concentration and whispered, “I want to see the enchanted sulfur.”

The tiny bird spun around, its beak shifting until it pointed directly toward one corner of the sprawling Faire. Elias gasped in delight. “It worked!”

“So it did!” Grimble crowed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Now off with ye!” He caught my eye and added with a wink, “But not too far, alright?”

I smiled, though my instincts already wanted to chase after him, to keep him within arm’s reach. “Stay close where I can see you!” I called after him, waving as he followed the bird’s beak, weaving through the gathering crowd.

“He'll be impossible to settle down after this,” I said with a mock glare toward Grimble.

“That's the beauty of it, lass,” he said with a shrug. “Let the boy run wild. It's the best way to learn.”

Vorgath, having busied himself with the rest of the axes in the back of the wagon, finally approached, casting a subtle but sharp glance toward Elias's retreating form before shifting his focus to Grimble.

“Is the ceremony still this afternoon?” Vorgath asked, his deep voice cutting through Grimble's jovial chatter.

“Aye, right before sundown,” Grimble confirmed, rubbing his hands together. “Come find me before the ceremony starts. There’s plenty to explore in the meantime!” With that, he trundled off through the growing throng of festival-goers.

And suddenly, in a crowd of hundreds of people, I was alone again with Vorgath.

He cleared his throat, scanning the crowd. “We should... explore,” he said gruffly. “Make sure Elias doesn't get into any trouble.”

I nodded, grateful for the excuse to move. “Yes, of course.”

We set off, weaving between excited festival-goers and elaborate displays, but I was aware of Vorgath's presence beside me the whole time. His massive form seemed to part the crowd effortlessly, creating a path for us both.

“Look,” Vorgath said, pulling me from my thoughts. He nodded toward a nearby stall where a female dwarf was working intently, her skilled hands weaving intricate patterns into what looked like gleaming metal fabric.

I stepped closer, mesmerized by the artisan's deft movements. “It's beautiful,” I breathed, watching as she threaded impossibly thin strands of silver and gold together.

“Mithral weaving,” Vorgath explained, his voice low and close to my ear. “Stronger than steel, lighter than silk. Used for armor, mostly.”

The dwarf looked up, a smile crinkling her eyes. “Aye, that it is,” she said. “But it's not just for battle, mind you. Watch this.”

She held up a completed piece of the fabric, no larger than a handkerchief. With a murmured word, the metal threads began to shimmer and shift, forming intricate patterns that danced across the surface like living art.

“Oh!” I gasped, delighted.

The dwarf nodded, clearly pleased by my reaction. “Woven with enchantments as well as metal. Here, feel it.”

She held out the fabric, and I reached for it hesitantly. As my fingers brushed the surface, I was struck by its impossible softness. It felt like touching a cloud, yet I could sense the strength beneath.

“Beautiful and functional,” I commented.

Vorgath caught my eye, reaching past me to rub the fabric between his fingers. “Are you getting ideas?”

I tapped a finger to my lips thoughtfully. “Actually, yes.” I turned to the dwarven artisan, excitement bubbling in my chest. “Have you ever considered collaborating with a blacksmith?”

The dwarf's eyes lit up. “Aye, I've thought about it. But finding the right smith with the vision for it? That's been the challenge. Most smiths I know are brutes interested only in making the biggest, sharpest weapons.” She cocked her head at me. “Don't tell me you're a smith, lass? Not with that pretty face.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I can swing a hammer just as well as the best of them.”

“Is that so?” The woman set aside her work and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Well then, you've got my attention. What did you have in mind?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “What if we combined your mithral weaving with other metalwork, appealing to women and mothers, a demographic usually overlooked by blacksmiths?”

“Like what?” she asked, stroking her beard.

“Like... a necklace that changes color when danger is near. For when a woman is out on her own.”

She snapped her fingers. “Or a bracelet that could warm or cool the wearer based on her needs.”

Thinking of Elias, I added, “Or a pair of tokens bound to each other, one for the mother and one for the child, for easy tracking.”

The dwarven artisan clapped her hands together. “I like the way you think, lass! It's not often I meet a human with such vision.” She thrust out a calloused hand. “Name's Brilda Steelweave. How about we set up a proper meeting to discuss this further?”

I shook her hand enthusiastically. “Soraya Ashford. And I'd love that, Brilda.”

As we exchanged details and made tentative plans, I could feel Vorgath's gaze on me. When I glanced up at him, the corners of his mouth had turned up in the barest hint of a smile.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He shook his head slightly. “Nothing.”

Before I could respond, a commotion from the center of the square caught our attention. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called out. “Prepare yourselves for a spectacle of fire and magic!”

Brilda grinned. “Ah, that'll be Fizzlebang. Best fire elementalist this side of the Crystal Caves. You won't want to miss this show.”

Vorgath's hand settling on the small of my back startled me. “Shall we?” he asked, nodding toward the gathering crowd.

“Lead the way,” I managed to say, my voice only slightly breathless.

As we made our way through the crowd, Vorgath's hand remained steady on my back, guiding me. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep through my clothes, leaving my skin tingling. I found myself leaning into him slightly, craving more of that contact.

We found a spot with a good view just as Fizzlebang, a dwarf with wild hair that seemed to defy gravity, took center stage. With a dramatic flourish, he raised his hands, and suddenly, the air was filled with dancing flames. The fire twisted and spiraled, forming intricate shapes and patterns. Dragons made of embers soared overhead, their fiery wings beating in perfect synchronization. Flowers bloomed from sparks, their petals unfurling in a dazzling display of reds and golds.

I gasped in wonder, unconsciously pressing closer to Vorgath. His arm slipped around my waist, holding me steady as we watched the mesmerizing performance.

“It's beautiful,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he murmured, but he wasn't looking at the show anymore. I could feel his eyes on me, on my face, watching me as intently as I watched the show in front of us. “It is.”

My heart thundered in my chest, and for a moment, as I turned to meet his gaze, I forgot how to breathe. The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of Vorgath's embrace and the intensity of his gaze.

But just as the moment stretched between us, a small, excited voice cut through the haze.

“Mama! Vorgath! Did you see that? The fire turned into a dragon!” Elias suddenly appeared at our side, his eyes wide with wonder and his cheeks flushed with excitement.

I jumped, surprised, and turned to him with a smile. “It's quite spectacular, isn't it?”

“I should...” Vorgath started to pull away, but I caught his hand, holding him in place.

“No,” I said quietly. “Stay. Please.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, his arm tightening around me once more.

Elias didn't seem to notice, his gaze fixed on the fire show. “It's amazing! How do they do that? Can we learn to do that? Oh! And guess what I saw earlier! There was this dwarf who had a machine that could predict the weather! He said it’s going to rain tomorrow, but only for an hour in the afternoon. Can you believe that?”

I laughed, ruffling his hair. “That does sound incredible. Hey, how did you know where to find us?”

Elias beamed and held up the small device Grimble had given him earlier, the silver bird on top glinting in the firelight. “I just asked,” he said proudly. “The Finder told me.”

As Fizzlebang's performance reached its crescendo, with a massive phoenix rising from a sea of flames, I found myself thinking that perhaps the most magical thing at this faire wasn't the enchanted metal or the dancing fire.

Perhaps it was this moment, right here, safely tucked against Vorgath's side with my son's sticky hand clasped in mine, the three of us watching in awe as the fiery phoenix spread its wings, showering us with harmless sparks that danced and twinkled before fading away.

The audience erupted in thunderous applause, and I found myself cheering along with them, caught up in the magic of the moment.