Howler King

“Well met, Pendr.” Zyrr held up a hand in greeting.

A big grin split the man’s face. “You must be Zyrr. Come on down from there. I’m sure you’re weary from traveling. I’ll take care of your cart and horses.”

The smile surprised Zyrr—but in a good way. His first impression was that Pendr was a man who could kill him with his bare hands without even trying. But his greeting showed a gentler side.

“Of course.” Zyrr jumped out of the cart and approached Pendr, putting his hand out in an offer of friendship. Pendr was quick to accept it. The blacksmith’s hand completely engulfed Zyrr’s.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Pendr said, his deep voice a perfect match for his physique. “Please, go inside and relax. Vimea’s made an extra-special supper tonight.”

* * *

“Eladrel,” the young boy said by way of introduction.

Zyrr knelt to his level. “I’m your Uncle Zyrr. How old are you, Eladrel?”

Beaming, Eladrel thumped his chest. “I’ve seen five winters.”

“Five winters?” Zyrr stood and then whistled in awe. “My goodness, you’re certainly becoming a man quickly, aren’t you?”

Eladrel nodded. “Papa lets me help at the forge. I’m going to be as big and strong as him someday.”

“You’re on your way, by the looks of you.”

Seeing the young man before him gave Zyrr a pang of sadness. He had wanted children of his own, but Crysta was adamant that she wouldn’t bring a baby into such a hostile world. Even though it had been six years since the Howler King was reportedly defeated, Crysta hadn’t changed her mind. Maybe the trip here—and seeing her nephew—would get her to reconsider.

Vimea called from the other room. “You can come in for supper. It’s nearly ready.”

Zyrr heard his wife and her sister chatting in the other room while the last of the meal was being prepared. “What do you say, Eladrel? Can you show me where we need to go?”

“You bet!” Eladrel said. He reached up and took Zyrr’s hand.

His nephew took him down a hallway and into a large room with a round table and five chairs. The utensils appeared to be made from silver, while the goblets sparkled like crystal. Zyrr was sure that it was only how they appeared, as no one could afford such luxuries. The taxes had been so heavy during the Howler wars, people were just now able to afford little niceties—nothing like what the items on the table appeared to be.

“This is your seat,” Eladrel said, bringing Zyrr to a chair of fine workmanship.

Zyrr pulled it away from the table. “Thank you, nephew.”

A sound from the back of the house of a door opening and closing caused Eladrel to run off, supposedly to greet his father. Zyrr heard Vimea tell her husband to wash up before he came to the table—she wouldn’t have him all sooty for their guests.

Zyrr looked around the room and felt a twinge of envy. He had never been able to afford such nice furnishings for his wife. It seemed that being a blacksmith had its rewards.

Vimea entered the room holding a plate of some type of cut-up meat. “Please, sit.” Crysta followed her, bringing in a large bowl of mashed potatoes. Zyrr’s mouth started to water—they hadn’t eaten very well on the trip, and the food smelled delicious. Within a few moments, they were all seated at the table, and after a prayer of thanks, started the meal.