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Chapter 15
Additional chains bound the panthers—a precaution, “just in case,” Grimm had stated—while the dwarf blacksmith inspected Shadow’s collar. The resistance couldn’t afford losing any more tradesmen when there were so few to begin with. Not many dwarves wanted to risk their lives associating with the resistance when death was on the menu from the new dictator in Haven. This made recruiting hard and our numbers very low.
“Exquisite,” the blacksmith said, running his fingers along the coppery metal, admiring the sleek metal and the runes carved into it. “Never seen anything like it.”
His face was stained with soot from working with the furnaces. In a way, he reminded me of Grimm, with his broad, squashed nose, dull-brown eyes, bushy brows, and a heavy beard that could hide a rabbit.
“Made from Draconian,” the blacksmith declared.
Flipping hell.The strongest metal in Haven. Incredibly expensive and rare. Draconian couldn’t be forged by regular fire and required dragon fire to mold or melt it. An unlikely option, given that intense heat like that would kill the panthers. The only other possibility was exploiting Draconian’s weakness and shattering it somehow. Mermaids had a sonic ability to vibrate materials and shatter them. But the witch’s spies were everywhere, making it difficult to venture to the sea and get word to the merfolk.
Damn it.I should never have let Nyssa return to the sea. We could have found water, a bath, something to rehydrate them until it was safe.
My mind returned to the dilemma at hand. Another easier and feasible option would be to venture to the dragon outpost to seek their help. However, like the mermaid option, this also posed risks. For one, dragons were fickle and often difficult to deal with. Secondly, the dracos and dwarves had a long-running feud, extending back hundreds of moon cycles, due to a greedy dwarf stealing their treasure.
The blacksmith lifted Shadow’s collar to examine the markings on it. “Anyone know what this says?” As his fingers brushed one of the markings, it lit up, and he dropped the collar.
“Runes,” Phantom said. “From an old language that died out with the ancient bloodlines.”
Great. Because we needed more problems to deal with.
“My dad might be able to read it,” Phantom added with a slight note of optimism.
The only problem? His father was locked up in a slave camp.
“Well, whoever crafted these things is clever,” the blacksmith added, standing up straight apprehensive knitting his brows. “There’s a hollow metallic shell. It’s not going to be easy to remove. Not with my skills anyway.”
Everyone sagged. On top of everything else, those were the last words we needed to hear.
“See these here?” The blacksmith pointed to two holes about the diameter of an apple core. “I believe they might be a mechanism to open the collar. But you’re going to need a watchmaker or someone with the tools small enough to poke around and open it up.”
Flare punched the wall inside the cell, breaking off little chunks of dirt. I expected him to cringe with pain, but he didn’t. Animals didn’t show weakness. To do so would tell a predator they were weak, which could lead to an attack.
Shadow’s shoulders and back curled forward.
“Thank you,” Grimm said, stepping up to shake the blacksmith’s hand once he exited the cell.
The blacksmith gave the rest of the group a nod as he left us standing outside the cell.
“Summon the local watchmaker,” Grimm instructed Teeny.
Teeny rushed away with the message.
My stomach felt as hard as a rock. What if the watchmaker refused assistance? Time was ticking for the panthers. Only five days remained until the collars killed them. I held on to my hope that justice would be served.
***
The watchmaker wasn’tdue to arrive until the next evening, under the cover of darkness. According to the latest reports, the dwarves were escorting him from a village twenty leagues away.
Tension coated the atmosphere as we all awaited his arrival.
Too keep busy, I’d left Grimm and the others to their plans, collected a wooden tray, loaded it with leftovers from breakfast and a special mug of tea for Shadow, and carried it down to the prisoners and guards.
Duty and debt weighed heavily on my mind. After leaving Shadow behind at his plantation, I felt I owed it to him to make his stay in the cell comfortable. It was the least I could do. A little kindness didn’t go astray. I didn’t have any expectations for his forgiveness.
The task also gave me an excuse to put some distance between Phantom and me.
At dinner that evening, sitting beside him, I’d remembered our kiss, the way he’d looked at me, his protective manner in the cell, the way he’d touched my back… I couldn’t get any of those things out of my mind for long. If I was with Shadow and Flare in the cells, at least I could selfishly wallow in my guilt, knowing Shadow hated me for what I’d done to him.
