Page 32 of The Ashborn

—Kienna—

Even after Master Calder’s blatant irreverence, Kienna forced bravery to bear the woodcarver again. Ruva escorted her back to the alleyways, all the way to the back corner of the city. Calder didn’t arrive at his normal late hour. Kienna spent the entire morning idly sweeping the floor while waiting for him to show. With a project due, he’d have to eventually.

By high noon, she panicked. He was old, after all. Time had probably already taken him, and she wouldn’t even know where to go because she knew next to nothing about him or where he lived.

Maybe the man at the sawmill would know.

I don’t like this, Ru.

I can smell him. I think⁠—

A tumbling crash jolted her from her mind and away from the fact that Ruva didn’t even bother telling her the woodcarver was already there. Kienna peered at Calder’s door.

I shouldn’t go in, right?

The last time you did, he threw things at you.

Ah... Kienna hesitated. He was still old and could have fallen. Another crash sounded, and Kienna bolted to the door. She pushed in, her eyes falling on the drunken old man stumbling around and slamming carvings to the ground.

“Get out!” he screamed. There was a wildness to him that told her she should have listened, but she rolled her eyes instead and approached him to help subdue his body.

For a man well past his season, he was strong, fighting hard to get her off him. Kienna never imagined she’d have to pin an old man to the floor, but apparently, Master Calder felt it was necessary as he continued to thrash and push at the items on the table.

When she got him on the floor, she grunted. “Why don’t we start with why you’re a victim of the bottle yet again and destroying the same work you won’t let me touch?”

“All my work… Let me go, dammit!” He slammed his fist into Kienna’s knee. She buckled and lost grip on him. He slid out from under her, but the effort drained him as he panted on the floor, a sickly green tinting his skin.

“Hold it together, Ashfell!” Kienna demanded, slapping the green right out of his face.

His eyes widened, mouth parting in stunned silence, but the color subsided, and his head looked steadier on his shoulders. “Get back to work.”

“You have a customer coming tonight,” Kienna said, crossing her arms as she stood. “Is that what you were destroying?”

Calder pulled himself from the ground as well and toed the wood scattered across his office. His somber workshop mirrored who he had become, splintered and covered in dust. Shelves were lined with carvings and outlines of numerous things, each one more beautiful than the other. Some were wild animals while others were mystical, like dragons and horses with wings. Kienna gripped the dragon, each intricate line finely carved to perfection. The trinket held a strange warmth, pulsing in her hand like a heartbeat was carved into the wood. Calder snatched it from her hands.

“Do not,” he sneered, eyes pointed, mouth curled with a snarl, “ever touch this again.”

“Do dragons exist?” Kienna asked, the warmth of the carving singeing into her fingertips. Dragons were always creatures of fairy tales, but so were the Elvish once upon a time. Even the thought invigorated her.

“Not in this realm,” he said, mocking her. “Ignorant girl.”

“Did you carve that? It doesn’t look like your other work.”

Calder pushed at her again. “Quit asking questions and go sweep. My customer will be here this evening to retrieve their table.”

Kienna glanced around. “I don’t see a table.” Memories of the table she built for Maren flashed through her head. She’d taken days to build it for them. At this rate, the woodcarver had hours left.

“Exactly. Now, let me get back to work.” He motioned for her to move.

Kienna pushed against his body, digging her feet into the ground. This only made it easier for him to slide her. “I know you’re good, but you’re not building a table in a few hours.”

“Not if you keep bothering me.” He reeked of rum, and Kienna had to hold her breath.

“I can help you.”

“No, thank you.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like his confidence would carry him to the finish line.

“Have you ever failed on a project before?”