The Blacksmith of Kinsley Vale

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” I mused, looking at Coal.

His large, cobalt eyes regarded me with his usual patient tolerance of my habit of talking to myself. His beautiful, blueblack scales glittered in the autumn sunshine shone through the unglazed smithy window.

A knock at the door startled me. “Who the hell could that be?”

You see, I don’t get many visitors. Admittedly, that may have something to do with the “NO TRESPASSING,” “KEEP OUT,” and “BEWARE OF DRAGON” signs I have plastered all over my fence.

My cottage stands at the edge of Kinsley Vale, quite close to the Petrified Forest, and most people don’t want to take the chance that I’m bluffing about the dragon.

The knock sounded again. “Stay, boy,” I said to the growling Coal as I crossed to the door. Cautiously, I opened it.

In front of me stood a grimy, weatherbeaten man.

“I don’t give charity.” I started to close the door, but the stranger was too quick for me. He’d jammed his foot in the door.

“We need to talk,” he said from somewhere behind his dark, scraggly beard.

“I beg your pardon. I am not going to stand here and - wait…who are you?” My pulse pounded in my ears.

“Inside. Can we talk inside?” His voice sounded strained.

“Are you a vampire?”

“Of course not.”

But I held up a pocket mirror to him all the same. A visible and irritated face appeared. “Just checking.” I opened the door enough for him to enter.

Locking the door, I said, “Don’t mind the dragon - he only eats my guests when I give him permission.”

“I see.”

Irked by the smugness of his tone, I turned around. The stranger was scratching the back of Coal’s neck, his favorite spot. Coal looked exceptionally pleased. My stomach did a flip. “Are you who I think you are?”

“That depends on who you think I am.” The stranger straightened and looked directly at me.

His eyes were emerald green with golden flecks in them. “Eliot?” I whispered.

“Hi, Belle.”

My head was swimming. I reached out for the back of the anvil to steady myself. “You...you’re dead.”

“That was the goal, I believe.”

“You’ve been gone for seven years…”

“Six years, eleven months, and thirteen days, but who’s counting?” He took a seat on the bench by the smithy door.

“I’m dreaming.” With significant effort, I reached for a stool and sat down across from him.

“I’m not sure if I should be alarmed or flattered.”

Whoever he was, he did have Eliot’s sense of humor.

“What brings you back after all these years and months and days?”

“Necessity.”

I shook my head, trying to focus. “Can you please stop speaking in riddles? Whether you’re actually Eliot or you’re just a figment of my imagination, I’d appreciate it if you’d help me out here. I’m fighting the overwhelming need to pass out.”

“Sorry. There’s just no easy way to come back from the dead.”

“So, you did die? Does that mean you’re a ghost, or have you mastered some reanimation spell?”

“Reanimation spells are a waste of time,” he said with a wave of his hand. “And I’m not a ghost, either,” he added, after a momentary pause. “You’ve given me a false dilemma. Assuming facts not in evidence. Contrary to all appearances, I didn’t die. I was supposed to, but I’m pretty damned hard to kill.”

“You were murdered?” I felt like someone had stuck my head in gelatin.

He sighed and gave me a look that I’d seen a thousand and one times before. “No. There was an attempt on my life, but, thankfully, it didn’t succeed. However, if my would-be murderer had realized the attempt failed, then I’d still be in grave danger, pun intended. That’s why I decided to allow everyone to believe I was dead.”

“But Edwin told us...he was with you when you died. In the hunting accident…” Apprehension seized my stomach.

“Yes, Edwin would say that.” His ironic smile made my heart sink.

“He was covering for you?” I asked feebly.

Eliot’s face hardened. “He was covering for himself.”

“You don’t mean…”

“I’m afraid I do, Belle. Edwin tried to kill me. And, until about two days ago, he believed that he’d succeeded.”

“You can’t be serious. I can’t believe it. Not of Edwin. He’s your brother.”

“Half-brother,” Eliot said softly.

“He’s our...friend.”

“I know.”

“How am I supposed to believe this? Why have you stayed away for so long?”

Before Eliot could answer, another knock sounded loudly at the door. I crossed to the window. “It’s okay. It’s Phoebe.”

I opened the door to admit my older sister. “Come in.” I turned to introduce - or, I suppose I should say, re-introduce - her to my guest, but there was no trace of him.

“Belle, I came to warn you to be on the lookout. There’s been a stranger prowling around, looking for you. He came by my house this morning. I didn’t answer him when he asked about you, but who knows what he might find out?”

“What does this stranger look like?”

“He’s grungy-looking. Dark, scraggly beard. A vagabond.”

“Coal can protect me,” I said impatiently.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking at me intently. “You’re all pale. What’s wrong?”

After a few seconds of searching for words, I finally said, “I’ve been thinking about Eliot a lot lately.”

“I know you miss him.”

“It’s not just that. It’s - how he died. How can we be sure of what happened to him?”

“What do you mean? He left the path to catch the bear on his own. The bear was too much for him to handle. He was mauled.” Phoebe shuddered.

“But we never saw his body.”

“I’m glad we didn’t!”

“But are we sure he died that way? All we have is Edwin’s word for it.”

“What do you mean, all we have?” Phoebe walked to the window and looked out. “Why shouldn’t Edwin’s word be enough? He’s our friend. He’s your fiancé, for crying out loud.”

Without hesitation, I grabbed the tongs from the anvil and hit Phoebe over the head with them. She crumpled to the ground with a thud.

“What was that for?” Eliot’s voice came from behind Coal.

“Phoebe’s been out of town all week visiting her sister-in-law and the new baby. I haven’t told her about my engagement.”

“You hadn’t told me, either.”

I didn’t miss the irony in Eliot’s tone.

A purple mist appeared, distracting me. The spell was wearing off. There, on the smithy floor in front of us, lay Moira, Edwin’s sister. Eliot’s half-sister.

“A real family-affair, isn’t it?” he muttered.

After a moment, I found my voice. “Eliot, if Moira knows you’re wandering about…”

“Edwin knows, too.”

“It isn’t safe here. You have to go.”

“It’s not safe for you, either. Moira will suspect you…”

“What are we going to do?”

Eliot put a hand to his forehead. “Give me a minute.” After what was actually several minutes, he said, “Do you have a razor?”

“There might be one in my dad’s old things.”

“How’s Coal when it comes to flying with passengers?”

“Passengers, as in plural? I don’t know. But he can fly me pretty much anywhere.”

“We’ll have to test his limits today, then. I have an idea of where we can go, but we need to take some precautions. I’ll take care of Moira while you gather supplies.”

A million and one questions sprang to my lips, but I held my tongue. I sprinted the few meters from the smithy to the house. After a bit of rummaging through the trunk in the back bedroom, I managed to find a razor and a change of clothes that were close enough to Eliot’s size. After gathering some things for myself, I stuffed everything except the razor in my worn leather knapsack.

I returned to the smithy to find Moira trussed up like a turkey.

Eliot turned to face me. I handed him the razor. “There’s some water in the basin in my room. How much food are we going to need?”

“As much as you have on hand and Coal can handle. I’d say just enough for two days, but I’d rather be prepared for every eventuality.” He shot me an apologetic glance before heading to the back of the cottage.

“He’s just as needy as ever,” I muttered to Coal.

After ten minutes scrounging through the cupboards and cellar, I surveyed my spoils: half a dozen apples, one wheel of cheese, two good-sized loaves of bread, a pound of dried venison, and seven large carrots. “He’s going to be carrying the heavy stuff in his pack.”

Coal growled, his blue eyes narrowing to slits.

“Right. I know you’ll be carrying all of it for the first part of the trip. But, after that, it’s all Eliot’s.”

As if on cue, my mysterious guest reappeared, this time without the beard. He wasn’t sparklingly clean, but at least he didn’t look like a homeless vagabond.

I gestured at the food in front of me. “This is all I could find.”

“What, aren’t you going to tell me I clean up nice?” Eliot’s green eyes sparked.

“I’ve never been a liar, and I don’t mean to start now,” I said shortly.

“Ouch.” His mouth twitched with the effort not to smile all over his cursedly handsome face.

“Shouldn’t we get going?”

“I thought you might want to change first.” He coughed, glancing down at my feet.

My gaze followed his...to my fuzzy griffin slippers. “I thought these would be the most appropriate footwear, since Coal’s already going to be so weighed down. They’re the lightest thing I have.”

“Trade them in for some boots and a sword.”

“What makes you think - ”

“Seven years is a long time, but it’s not enough to turn you into a pacifist. Even if you are engaged to Edwin.”

“While I’m at it, would you like a sword, too?”

“That would be lovely.”

Mentally acknowledging the weirdness of this new reality, where swords were spoken of like cups of tea, I obediently returned to my room. Once I was more appropriately shod, I belted on my sword - the last blade my father had ever forged. I grabbed one of the spares from under my bed.

By the time I returned to the smithy, Moira had disappeared, and Eliot was finishing up saddling Coal.

“I thought the cellar would be a better place for your guest,” he said carelessly.

I thrust the sword at him. He took it from me and unsheathed it, testing its balance. “This one’s a little off.”

My cheeks grew hot. “It was one of the few that didn’t sell.”

“It’s not too bad.” He swung the sword experimentally.

“It was my first attempt,” I said stiffly.

“I remember.” His eyes caught mine and held them for several seconds. “Belle’s Revenge.”

Coal growled. I turned to him. “I know, buddy. It’s time to go.”

“I’m ready if you are.” Eliot tilted his head, as if a new thought had just occurred to him. “Do you trust me?”

That was the grand-prize question, wasn’t it? Eliot stood stock-still in front of me, his expression calm but grave as my eyes bored into him and my brain screamed that he was a liar, a fraud, a traitor.

“Let’s get going.” I turned and took Coal by the ear, leading him outside. At Eliot’s request, I handed him the key to lock Moira inside the house. She’d get out, eventually - we both knew that. But we’d be foolish not to take advantage of what time our pains had earned us.

Once we’d reached the clearing past my garden, I let Eliot mount Coal first. He was the one who knew where we were going, after all. Once I had pulled myself up behind him, Coal started to rotate his wings.

“Here goes nothing,” Eliot muttered.

“Nervous?” I couldn’t keep the teasing note from my voice.

“No, but it’s been a few years since I’ve flown a dragon, so maybe you should be.”

“If it depended on you, maybe I would. But I trust Coal with my life.”

“I see.” Eliot stroked Coal’s neck. “All right, boy. We need to fly north.”

Coal took off nearly as smoothly as he usually does for me, with less than half our current freight. As the wind whistled through my ears, I felt my body relax. There’s just something about being hundreds of feet in the air that makes worries fade into the background. My eyes drank in many-hued flowers and glowing green grass as Kinsley Vale flew beneath us. Soon, we were slicing over barren white treetops, and then the stony grey of the Northern Mountains surrounded us.

Even at this considerable altitude, the tallest of the mountain peaks were shrouded in clouds beyond our reach. Shielded from the sun, I felt the air grow colder and thinner. I wondered where we were going, but I didn’t feel any alarm about the various possibilities.

In fact, I admitted to myself, this impromptu trip was a welcome change. I’d been feeling lately that life was becoming dull.

The more dangerous things had become in the kingdom the last two years, the less my friends and I had ventured beyond the borders of Kinsley Vale. Since I’d started courting Edwin last year, he’d almost convinced me that my cottage was too far off the beaten track for safety. Almost.

Edwin. Could all Eliot had told me be true? I pictured the quiet, studious young man I’d known from childhood - tall, darkheaded, fair-skinned, soft-spoken. Were those calm, impassive blue eyes the eyes of a killer? Somehow, I couldn’t believe it.

To all appearances, Eliot was a far more likely suspect where anything violent or dishonest were concerned. He’d always been reckless. The bear hunt that day had been all his idea. Phoebe, Moira, and I had refused to join.

I could still see Edwin’s face as he told us what had happened. He looked even paler than usual, almost blueish, and his eyes were wide and frightened. Could anyone be that convincing of an actor?

We were well into the mountains now. As we passed Count’s Peak, I realized I’d never been this far from home before.

With a little effort, I pushed farther back in my memories, past the painful times, back to when Father was still alive, and I had time to carve out for fun between chores.

My father’s grandfather, the first blacksmith in Kinsley Vale, had built his home and forge in a clearing on the outskirts of the village, as smiths often do in case of fire.

Great-Grandfather Zeke had passed the forge down to Grandfather George, and it had then gone to my father as his only son. But, since Father hadn’t had any sons, he was forced to train one of his daughters as an apprentice.

Since Phoebe was five years older than me, she was the obvious choice. He’d begun to train her when she was fourteen, in spite of the fact that she wasn’t interested in the least. Once she had to stop playing and start working, I’d grown bored, so I tagged along at the forge most days of the week.

To my surprise, Father’s work fascinated me. I watched and practiced alongside Phoebe, and it turned out that I had a knack for blacksmithing. Once I turned ten, Father agreed to train me as his apprentice, letting Phoebe off the hook. She was betrothed to the butcher’s son within the year, and they married the day after her seventeenth birthday, just a few weeks after Mother died of fever.

After losing Mother and Phoebe in the same month, Father threw himself into his work, and I was right there with him. It was around that time that something else happened that furthered Father’s reputation as a highly-skilled blacksmith.

Lord Edgeron, one of the king’s most trusted nobles, took up residence in the old manor house at Kinsley Vale and refortified the garrison. Rumors of a war with Grendovia were rampant, and, according to those who were up on the goings and comings, Lord Edgeron wasn’t the only noble to be put to work in an out-of-the-way part of the kingdom.

With the refortification came a slew of orders for new weapons. Our forge went from making horseshoes and farm tools to swords, daggers, and spears. As Father filled orders for Lord Edgeron’s men, I was there helping him. I often went with him to the manor to receive new orders and deliver old ones. That’s how I’d gotten to know Edwin and Eliot. They -

My thoughts scattered as Coal began a sudden descent. Eliot was leading us into a deep valley that glowed dusky-pink, and he was letting Coal take the dive a little too steeply for my liking. In desperation, I clung to Eliot’s waist. As much as I hated to touch him, I hated the feeling of falling even more.

For the next few seconds, my fear battled with awe at the scene around me: the steep, iron-colored mountains to the east, the watercolor sky in front of us, the lingering yet muted orange of the sun to our left, and the mossy vale beneath us.

As the ground rushed up to meet us, fear won out. I scrunched my eyes shut and waited for the impact that never came. Coal maintained perfect control, tilting his wings to glide to a smooth stop.

“What a flight!” Eliot exclaimed, dismounting.

Distrusting my legs, I turned and slid slowly down Coal’s tail. “Just what I was thinking,” I muttered. A little shakily, I made my way around to Coal’s head, putting my arms around his neck. “Thank you for keeping us alive,” I murmured, scratching the sweet spot by his ear. His rumble was comforting.

After a moment, I turned to my companion. “You know, if Coal weren’t such a darned good flier, we may have met our death today.”

“Aw, Belle, c’mon.” He smiled at me, but I looked away. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Oh, I don’t know - maybe it died when you did!” I glared at him.

Eliot winced and looked away. “We weren’t in any danger,” he said after a moment. “I know Coal pretty well. And he trusts me.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” I snapped. “Now, where are we going?”

Silently, Eliot began to unload Coal, ignoring my question.

Anger grappled with fear in the pit of my stomach. “Don’t you think I deserve some sort of explanation right about now? I agreed, like an idiot, to fly with you to some unknown destination, minutes after you came back from the dead. Well, even my patience has some limits. Where are we going? Why, after all this time, did you come back? Why did you come to me?” I cried.

Eliot’s face registered pain for a second, just long enough for me to recognize it. “I came to you because I knew I could trust you. Honestly, there was nowhere else to turn.”

“Why now?” My voice trembled.

Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Since Edwin wanted me dead, I thought it best for me to stay that way.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question. Why now?”

“He found out I wasn’t dead.”

“How?”

Eliot shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is, one day I was minding my own business, out in the middle of nowhere, starting to get lulled into a sense of security. The next day, armed guards start nosing around the nearest village, asking about someone of my description. I panicked. I had to leave, and I knew that running wouldn’t work. I’d tried that. I needed to face this head-on.”

“So you decided to waltz right into the proverbial lions’ den, endangering at least one of your friends in the process?”

“Something like that.” Eliot’s eyes sought mine. They were pleading with me. “Belle, don’t waste time being mad. I need your help.”

“What, exactly, are you planning to do?”

“I want to confront Edwin, to make sure everyone in Kinsley Vale - hell, the whole kingdom - knows what he tried to do to me. Edwin isn’t fit to be Lord of Kinsley Manor.”

“How am I supposed to help you with that?”

“Well, obviously I’m going to need someone who knows the lay of the land. I need an ally.”

I laughed. “If you want someone who knows what’s going on in Kinsley Vale, you need to look elsewhere. I wouldn’t trust my own judgment. I had no idea Edwin’s a murderer.”

“I wouldn’t have believed it of him, either, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

It was into those eyes that I dared to look for a moment. He returned my gaze steadily. “Why didn’t you come back sooner?” I whispered.

And, just like that, his eyes slid away from mine. “I’ve been a fugitive for years. If I’d come back, I would have endangered you needlessly.”

“Needlessly? Isn’t that for me to decide?” I could barely keep my voice steady.

“I wanted to come, but I knew you’d be better off without me.” He looked me in the eyes again. “You’d still be better off without me, but now I have no choice.”

Every muscle in my body quivered with emotion. Only a monstrous effort of self-control stopped me from erupting - whether into screams, curses, or tears, I didn’t know.

The seconds ticked by, and still our eyes remained locked. Those green-gold eyes were the same as ever, but what about the man behind them?

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he said.

Did he mean that? Regardless, he had spoken first, and the anger died out of me. “What’s your plan?”

“When is the coronation?”

“Three days from now.” Then the significance of the question hit me. “Eliot, you can’t seriously be considering storming the coronation? If Edwin is who you say he is, the last thing you want to do is march into a room full of armed guards who’ve sworn their allegiance to him!”

“Edwin is who I say he is!” Eliot cried. “And I am who you remember me to be, for better or for worse. So, you have to know that I have a better plan than storming the coronation.”

“I’m waiting,” I muttered.

“I need evidence - cold, hard facts to prove that Edwin attempted to murder me.”

“No body, no murder,” I quipped.

“I suppose my survival is a disappointment, if it means anything at all to you,” Eliot said, traces of bitterness in his voice. “But surely not even your hatred of me could induce you to marry and support the rule of a ruthless killer.”

His words turned my blood to ice in my veins. “You’re stalling,” I said, surprised at the nonchalance in my own voice. “What evidence can you get?”

“The confession of the would-be murderer should suffice.”

“You really expect Edwin to confess?”

“If the conditions are right.” A strange light glowed in Eliot’s eyes.

“If you need his confession, why did you fly us 100 miles away from him?”

“Part of said ideal conditions involve the right moment, and a large audience. As we’ve established, the coronation would be the perfect moment. However, I know Edwin, and he isn’t going to tell the truth without the proper...persuasion.”

“Do you have a small army hidden away somewhere in the Northern Mountains?” I snorted. But his sheepish expression made me rethink my skepticism. “Do you, El?”

“I don’t have an army,” he said lightly.

“What do you have hidden away up here in the mountains?” I pressed.

But he’d turned away from me and begun to unload the baggage from Coal’s back.

“Are we camping out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

It was only after Eliot had removed the packs and loaded them onto his own back that he answered. “We’re continuing on foot, and you were pretty clear whose responsibility the bags are now that we’re on land.”

For some reason, I felt guilty. I pushed the feeling aside - I’d gotten good at that. “Where are we going?”

“To find what’s hidden away here in the Northern Mountains.” He started off towards the treeline. Before he disappeared between large, full evergreen branches, he turned around.

I was still standing in the middle of the clearing beside Coal.

“Are you coming?” he asked. His tone was almost plaintive.

That shook me. Eliot didn’t ask people what to do - he told them. And I’d never seen a time when he hadn’t gotten his way.

As the seconds grew into moments, I slowly shook my head. Eliot turned toward the forest and continued his journey.

Coal nudged me with his snout, and I saw the question in his large, dark eyes.

“Do you think following him into the dark, scary forest is a good idea?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

With his head tilted to one side, Coal flapped his wings twice in a gesture that approximated a shrug.

“I know what you’re thinking. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks except for me, right? It matters if I think it’s a good idea to follow Eliot.”

Sitting back on his haunches, Coal looked down at the ground in front of him.

“Well, do I think it’s a good idea?” I sat across from my dragon, picking at a blade of grass. “If I didn’t think it was worth it to follow him, why the heck did I leave home at all?”

Coal snorted.

“I know, I know. Moira-disguised-as-Phoebe was pretty frightening, to say the least. I had to get out of town somehow. But why did we - yes, we, Coal. I’m not letting you off the hook on this one - why did we agree to let him chart our course? What is it about Eliot that makes him so hard to refuse?” I muttered.

Coal’s next snort sounded like laughter.

“I know we loved each other, once. I haven’t forgotten that. But I did think I’d gotten over it.” I realized the significance of what I’d said even as I spoke.

Coal growled.

“Well,” I said after a long moment. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” I stood. “Come on, boy.”