The following spring…

It was one of those rare days in early spring when the weather was absolutely perfect. Dawn had come with a bit of chill in the air, but not enough to need a cloak to keep warm. The sun was shining and there was a light breeze coming off the lake that kept the morning from becoming too warm as the sun rose in the sky.

As beautiful as the day was, Chance was too busy to notice. He was back in the hottest part of the smithy working on the finishing touches for his Journeyman project for Master Harold. Once he finished it, and provided it met Harold’s strict standards, Chance would be given the title of Journeyman Blacksmith. It was at that point that he could take off on his own and further hone his skills as he travelled around the country performing odd blacksmithing jobs in the smaller villages that were not large enough to need a smith full time. Or he could stay and continue his education.

Master Harold had told him that if he did stay and continued under his direction, he would be a full-fledged smith by the time he was twenty. Harold further assured him that with the skill at working with metal he already showed, and his guidance, Chance would probably make Master within three to four years after that.

Chance though, was unsure of what he wanted to do. The thought of being a Master Smith at so young an age appealed to him, but the thought of no fewer than five more years in the city that he had lived in all his life was a bit depressing. For he was young and the desire to see the world was upon him.

Chance finished his project and set it on Master Horace’s work bench to be checked for flaws. He decided that this afternoon would be one that was best spent in the woods. It was definitely too beautiful a day to spend indoors. Not to mention that the recent spring thunderstorms would be causing the forest to bloom and grow.

Chance left the smithy and headed to the wash stall. His father had set up two tanks of water on the roof, one next to the chimney so that the heat of the forge would keep it warm and another in the shadow of the great sycamore tree that stood in a corner of the yard. There was a valve to restrict the flow of each temperature of water so a person could enjoy washing themselves without being scalded or frozen. After he finished washing the sweat and grime of the smithy off, he hurriedly dressed in the clean clothes his mother had left knowing he would need them. He ran his hands through his shoulder length blond hair and pulled it back into a tail with a strip of rawhide. He headed to the house to grab his satchel, dagger, and bow. He also grabbed the list of herbs his mother needed, stuffing it into his satchel. After making sure he had everything, he headed out.

Before he got far though, he realized that he might be late for dinner and not wanting his mother to worry, he hurried back to the house to write her a quick note. Deciding that if he could be late for dinner, he might want a snack. He grabbed an apple and a couple of rolls from the table, and put them in his satchel. His mother was the city’s best herbalist and his parents gave him a freedom to roam the woods as long as he took his dagger, his bow, and his satchel. The satchel was for the herbs that his mother needed for her work. The bow was more for hunting than for protection, but taking it eased his mother’s mind. The dagger was for… well every young man needs a dagger. At least that is what his father told him.

The goblins that had been raiding when Horace had saved the patrol had been dealt with the previous winter. The King had finally sent the army down to scour the countryside and drive them out of the area. There had been two large battles with the goblins, both on the far side of the lake, with the last seeing the goblins’ shamans wiped out by the King’s Ard-Bonded. The shamans had been the driving force behind the goblins pushing out of the mountains and into the area surrounding the lake. When they were killed, the incantations that had tied the clans together had been broken and they had scattered back into the mountains. Nowadays, the dangers in the forest consisted mostly of the wild animals and the occasional highwayman.

Chance loved the forest. His mother and father had taken him and his brother often to teach them the plants and animals. His father taught them how to survive and track as well. He enjoyed following the game trails to see where they went, climbing trees and watching the forest animals without disturbing them, but most of all he enjoyed testing his skills of stealth against the creatures of the forest. He had once gotten close enough to touch a doe before she bounded away. Each time he thought of the softness of the doe, he smiled.

Today though, his mother had him looking for Silverroot. The entire plant had many medicinal qualities, the leaves, for instance, when crushed, released a mild pain relieving liquid. The root, when ground and sprinkled over a wound, would help prevent infection. He was mainly in need of the blossoms today. They only bloomed in early spring and were helpful in increasing fertility. Farmers were always trying to transplant the small plants to their pastures in hopes that they would blossom and the herds eating the blossoms would benefit by increasing the chances of pregnancy. It never worked though, at least not that Chance had ever heard. The plant only seemed to grow in the forest.

Chance recalled where it was that he had last seen some of the plants the previous year and headed through the forest in that direction. He had always been taught that when harvesting plants to only take one out of every three. This left one for the animals to eat, and one to continue the crop. He always thought it funny and remembered asking his mother how the animals knew they were only supposed to eat one of every three. He and his mother had laughed long and hard on that one. Coming to the area where the plants had been previously, he noticed that one of the ancient oaks had fallen over since he had last been there. The tree was huge. He doubted if he, his father, and two other men could reach around the tree by clasping hands. Chance was tall, but nowhere near as large as Harold. He stood about eight and a half spans and weighed in around sixteen stones. He was well muscled from three years working as a smith’s apprentice and the years prior to that helping in the smithy and training with Horace.

Climbing over the mass of roots that had been torn up as the giant tree fell he looked at the deep hollow that had been created when some of the roots had ripped free of the earth. He could make out a small area to one side of the hollow that was different than the rest. Climbing over the side of the hollow and slowly making his way across the soft earth that had yet to settle. The strange area he found looked like a portion of a tunnel had been uncovered. The entrance to the tunnel showed that the ceiling, sides, and floor of the tunnel were formed from slabs of slate and was about three span (~27 inches) wide and four span (~36 inches) tall. It seemed to be heading deeper underground and toward the center of the hollow. Taking a stick Chance began to slowly trace the path of the tunnel. When he got to the center of the hollow he found about two spans under the dirt that the tunnel widened out into a circular room about eight and a half spans wide. Chance slowly began to remove the soil to uncover the room. As the dirt that was holding the slate in place was removed the ceiling collapsed and a cloud of dust rose from within the hollowed out space that used to be the room. Climbing down into the wreckage of the collapsed ceiling Chance slowly cleared out the fallen dirt and the remains of what used to be the room's ceiling. On one side he found the remains of a skeleton of an unknown animal. Scavengers had found it long ago, for the bones had been scattered out a bit and it was difficult to tell what kind of creature it was. Then on the other side he found what looked to be a pile of junk covered in spider webs and debris. From the looks of it a pack rat had lived there and brought in some of its treasures. Sorting through the junk Chance found a single egg-shaped stone that was about the length of his hand. Picking it up and wiping the cobwebs off, he noticed the gleam of metal. Standing and looking around to make sure no one was around he pulled out his canteen and began to rinse the stone. He found that underneath the layers of dirt and web, the stone was perfectly smooth and appeared to be solid silver.

Oddly, the stone was becoming warmer. It had been cool to the touch when he had first picked it up. He thought that he could hear a melody from somewhere and slowly an answering harmony started. He soon realized that a soft glow was coming from the stone and spreading slowly up his arm. Alarmed, he dropped the stone and the second melody stopped, but the other one continued but the strength of it was much less and could barely be heard. Bending down he extended his hand toward the stone and as he was about to touch it a small flash occurred and the melody became stronger. Holding his hand just above the stone he felt something similar to water running down his arm and out of his hand. He squinted, what was that small spark of lightning leaping between his hand and the stone? The melody ceased growing stronger and had slowed. Chance decided to try touching it one more time. When he placed his hand upon the stone, the melody suddenly burst force with a clear strong and decidedly feminine tone and the second melody which was definitely coming from within him seemed to rise to meet it. It now felt like a small stream was flowing down his arm to the stone. The stone was getting warmer and warmer; it was on the verge of becoming too hot to touch. Then the melodies blended and became louder and louder until they reached a crescendo. Then there was nothing. The melody stopped and the stone grew cool.

Stunned and suddenly feeling quite tired, Chance sat down heavily, not caring what his mother would say about the dirt and dust he sat in. Laying back he closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.