An Axe in the Flames

Amery

The wooden handle looked odd; it was supposed to. Knobbed at the bottom like a standard axe handle, but then two wooden fingers wrapped around the base above the knob. Complete with fingernails and the size of sausages, they looked to be gripping the handle itself. A unique handle indeed. Amery was proud of this creation, not only for the invention of a well-balanced axe handle but also for the fact that it was tailored for a man with only three fingers on his right hand. He was also proud that he had been asked to make this by a man he looked up to. Draxx Club Hand. A man that so many knew for his blood lust in battle and fearlessness to charge into any danger. Even if it were so many years ago, he earned that reputation.

Amery spun the handle in his leather-gloved hands. Admiring his handy work, down to the knuckle wrinkles and flecks of hair he had carved into it. Being a skilled woodworker had its perks when he came to Crag looking for a job. Knowing how to work metal into valuable objects had as well. Many people asked him to create weapons and tools personally, but none excited him more than Draxx. Compared to the man, Amery was a child among men. A full two feet shorter and over a hundred pounds lighter. Where Draxx had a full gray beard, Amery was lucky even to get stubble.

They had fought, briefly, together. Uniting the three parallel towns against the desert armies of the west, they fought over their borders and the Sect's slaughter of children to steal their magic. A violent war that saw the death of the Flame Sect's leader, a warband that had ruled over the western deserts. He had witnessed Draxx tear through countless men while riding his battle pig. Amery wasn't built for sword and board battle, not by any stretch of the imagination. His skill set lie in the ranged role. An almost master marksman with the bow. It was a helpful skill when you were so uncomfortable with men charging at you in armor, ready to split you in two. Battle, for him, was much better at a higher vantage point and out of harm's way.

Sweat beaded his head despite the blisteringly cold winds of Crag outside. His workshop sat near the edge of a rock bluff, and the winds helped keep his anvil fires scorching hot. Unfortunately, it also meant his shop was roughly the sun's temperature. He had meticulously drafted and crafted the perfect axe for Draxx. Even if he only meant to split firewood, this handle would undoubtedly fit like a glove. He took off his leather gloves and ran his hands over the wood. It was time for the next step. A blood-red varnish. He was going to pull out all of the stops for this piece. Every trick of the trade he had learned. For example, red made things faster, of course—common knowledge for most folks. At least, that's what his father had told him all those years ago when he was an apprentice.

He rummaged through a reed-woven basket for a mostly clean rag and found one to his suit. Dipping the rag in, he wiped over the handle, ensuring every crack was covered. Satisfied with the covering, he propped it up near the anvil fires and picked up the double-bladed axe head meant to join with the handle. The edge was sharp enough to shave the wings off a dragonfly. Perfection was all he knew and all he would deliver to such a renowned man.

The trader's convoy was set to leave at first light and arrive in Dry Lake by late morning. Draxx would almost certainly be waiting along with all of the other town folk and traders. Coming in just a bit late was also a trick of the trade Amery had learned from his father. "Come in a little late and have them anticipating your wares. Come in early, and they'll be anticipating everyone else's." Is what he had always said.

It seemed to work well enough as Amery always returned to his shop with an empty cart and sack filled with coins. It was just intelligent marketing because being skilled at a trade wasn't worth as much if you couldn't sell with the best of them.

The rough wooden door to his shop opened, letting in a breath of the cold winter air. It was refreshing, like a dip in the pools of Moon Garden during the summer months. Snapping him out of the thoughts in his head and into the moment. His eyes took a second to adjust to what he was seeing; he wasn't overly alarmed, not expecting any visitors but not having any enemies. This was a shop, after all, but what he was seeing was different from what he expected. A small figure stood in the doorway, clad in thick furs, almost surely doubling the size. A hood pulled so far over the face he could only make out the blonde hair flowing from underneath it and across the jacket furs. The figure didn't move; it just stood frozen, then collapsed. Amery moved with the dexterity of a fox, something his small stature granted him, and rushed to the fallen figure. The hood had slid askew during the fall, and he could now make out a little girl's face—red from the cold and biting winds but also sunken around the eyes and cheeks from possible malnourishment.

What was she doing here? His shop of all places, and where had she come from? The thoughts raced through his mind as he picked her up and gently carried her closer to the fires before laying her on a bench that wasn't near the heat. He picked up her hands and had to pull off thick woolen mittens. No frostbite, but Gods, they were cold. He rubbed them and tried speaking, but his words came out in jumbles. She needed water, food, anything. Quickly darting across the room, he grabbed bread from his desk, broke off small bite-sized chunks, filled a cup with water, and brought them to the bench. Finally finding his words, "He....hello? Little girl? Where are your parents?"

She barely stirred, but when Amery placed the bread in her mouth, she chewed before choking. "Oh Gods! You must be thirsty! Here, drink some water. Have all you want."

She drank and finally swallowed the bite, and her eyes fluttered open. They were watery and wide. Wider than any folk Amery had seen around the Crag or Dry Lake or even the deserts. Not even Moon Garden to the east; those folk were hardy and tan-skinned. He couldn't place her origin but gave her another piece of bread as she looked around the shop. Eagerly, she chewed and reached for another piece, shoveling it into her mouth like a feral being. "Your, your parent's little one? Did you lose them? Are you hurt?" He stammered.

Still no answer, but the color was beginning to bloom back into her face and around her eyes. She reached for the water and gulped it down, spilling it on her jacket and dribbling it down her cheeks. She held it up and looked at Amery wide-eyed and grunted. "More? You want more?" He said as he filled the cup with his water pitcher again. She sloppily drank the cup again and then paused. She stared at him, "What is it? Are you well?" He quickly said, reaching a hand out to pull her hood all of the way off. Her eyes followed his hand, and as he pulled it off, she belched so loudly he jumped. His jump elicited a small smile and giggle, and she burped again.

Amery paused and smiled, "That was funny, huh? You burp like a grown man!" He took the cup, filled it again, set it beside her, and offered her some more bread. She eagerly took it and quickly bit a mouthful from the loaf.

"You gave me a startle, but little girl, where are your parents, and why are you out wandering in the night?"

She stared at him, and through a mouthful of bread, crumbs dancing from her mouth, she said, "Pela." Then began chewing again.

He crossed the room, finally shutting the door, and turned to her. "Is that your name? Pela? Do you have parents? I don't want to be accused of stealing children."

She took a sip from her cup and cocked her head at him, "Pela?" It was said as almost a question, slightly higher sounding at the end.

"Do you speak the common tongue? The Kingdom language?" He said as he sat next to her on the bench. She only stared at him, shrugged, and said, "Pela." As a matter of factly.

What in the world is happening here, he thought to himself. So perplexed,  he was at a loss for what to do next. He softly began to speak to her, watching her eat the loaf of bread and drink another cup of water. Slowly, in case she didn't speak the common language. "Pela...your...name? Do...you...know...where...parents...mommy....daddy...are?"

She giggled at him and quickly replied, "Pela."

He rubbed his hands over his face and through his mop of black hair and exhaustedly replied, "I know that's your name. It's all you've said. How did you get here?" Leaning down face to face with her, said again, "How...get...here?"

She swallowed her bite in a loud gulp and said, "Pe...la." Then, she extended a hand palm up and made walking motions with her pointer and middle finger. When she was done, she smiled at Amery, gave him a thumbs up, and returned to eating.