Juniper’s Throne

The heat wafted around the room. A burning smell of iron and soot shot into the air. Aaron gazed down at the orange flames shooting out of the forge. Sweat dripped from his lips into his mouth, the salty taste covering his tongue.

“Pull it out boy!” his father yelled from the anvil beside the forge.

Aaron grabbed the searing piece of iron with his tongs and brought it to the anvil. His father prepped his hammer and used his tongs to secure the metal.

He smiled at Aaron. “Thanks, my boy. How would you like to try and shape this piece?”

Aaron glanced down at the hammer. “Thank you, Father, but I would rather wait and work on my own piece.”

His father nodded. Then turned down to begin working on the metal. Sparks flew from the anvil as he shaped the metal with his hammer. Each hit sent pieces of hot shrapnel across the room.

Aaron watched as his father worked on the heated iron. Could he ever become as talented as his father? Was he destined to be a blacksmith? Or was there something greater in store for him?

Ever since he was young he had pictured himself leaving their small village and traveling the world. He would become a great adventurer and help people in need. But what could he do? After all, he was only fifteen years old. Still working as his father’s apprentice.

Then there was his father, a strong humble man whose whole purpose in life was to forge tools out of iron and steel. He would never understand his son’s dream of adventure. The only thoughts he had about his son were when he would take over the forge.

As Aaron contemplated his situation, there came a knock at the door. He opened the door to find a tall skinny man in light blue robes. A small oak-brown goatee covered his face. Above which sat a mischievous smile.

“Orion!” Aaron exclaimed. “What brings you here?”

Orion laughed. “I was in the area and wanted to come check on my good friends. Along with the fact that your father has a piece I requested.”

Aaron’s father stopped hammering and walked over to the door. “How are you, Orion? It’s been a few months since we last spoke.” He extended his hand to the tall man, who took it and gave it a friendly shake.

“I am well,” Orion said. “I decided to take some time from adventuring to recuperate and catch up on my research.”

“It will be nice having you back in town,” Aaron’s father said. “We need your healing abilities. The Throne’s Curse has started claiming victims here.”

Orion’s smile melted into a look of concern. “You are certain the curse has spread here?”

“Each victim has the same symptoms. Their heartbeats, they breathe, they are alive in every way, but their eyes are closed in an endless sleep. The local healers have used everything they can think of. But no one has recovered.”

Orion sighed. “I have been hearing the same from other towns around the region. More and more people falling ill to Juniper’s wrath.”

“Who is Juniper?” Aaron asked.

“The witch Que-”

“Hold on Orion,” Aarons’s father said. “My son doesn’t need to concern himself with the curse. He needs to focus on learning our trade.”

Orion bowed slightly. “Forgive me, Winston. I didn’t mean to run my mouth. You are right that Aaron should learn the trade. Especially as he is still young.”

Winston smiled and started taking off his blacksmith apron. “Please join us for supper. I have your piece waiting inside the house.”

Orion bowed again. “I would be honored to join you for a meal.”

After closing the shop and forge for the night. Aaron, Winston, and Orion sat at the small table in Winston’s cottage. The strong aroma of beef stew filled Aarons’s nose. His body could feel the mellow heat from the fireplace. He could see the ebony cauldron giving off a vapor of steam. Signifying a flavorful concoction of meat, vegetables, and broth inside.

Aaron grabbed a bowl for each man and filled it with stew. Giving one to his father and one to Orion. Once he was done serving his father and their guest, he sat down with his bowl. His mouth was ready to slurp down the whole serving.

They didn’t talk much during the meal. But once they had all finished, Winston walked into his room. Then a moment later he walked out with a short sword in his hands.

The chrome blade glimmered in the firelight. A black leather grip swaddled the handle of the blade. It was the most beautiful weapon Aaron had seen his father craft. He had seen many swords, axes, and, maces. But never of this quilty. It almost looked as if the blade itself glowed. In the dim room.

“Marvelous work Winston!” Orion said, holding his hands to take the blade. Winston placed it in his palms. “I can feel you were even able to keep the magical properties of the metal. Thank you, my friend.” He pulled out a large sack that jingled as he set it on the table.

Aaron grabbed the sack and opened it to reveal a glimmer like the shining sun. He could see tens if not hundreds of gold coins. He looked at his father who smiled.

“I hope it serves you well,” Winston said. “I feel bad for asking for such a large payment.”

“Do not worry my friend,” Orion said. “Just make sure you don’t keep your boy on too tight of a lease. He may never know the spirit of the world if he stays here his whole life.

Winston nodded. “I understand.”

Orion grabbed his things and thanked them for the meal before leaving for his home. Aaron watched him stride into the night towards the town square. The sword glinted off every light it passed. Beckoning Aaron to hold it.

His father walked up behind him and patted his shoulders. “Orion gave me the ore himself. Said it was magic and he needed a sword when he got back. Don’t know what for, he’s got enough magic of his own.”

Aaron glanced back, his face a mix of confusion and surprise. “Orion can use magic?”

“Yes, I thought I told you that Orion is an elemental mage. He prefers the term wizard, however. Says it makes him feel more experienced.”

Aaron looked back at Orion as he faded into the darkness of the night. He wondered to himself if he would ever learn swordsmanship or magic. It would be better than blacksmithing. He shut the door to the cottage.

Once he climbed the ladder to the small attic above the main room of the cottage. He said goodnight to his father before covering himself with the few wool blankets he had.

After laying still for a time, thinking of swords, magic, monsters, and elves. He peacefully drifted off to sleep.

The next morning he woke up to a rooster crowing outside. He had an odd, yet mundane taste in his mouth. His nose smelled the remnants of the fire from the night before.

Usually, his father would barge up the ladder and make sure he was up and ready to start forging that day. However, he hadn’t today. Nor could Aaron hear his father in his room or the main room of the cottage.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he looked down the ladder to the main room. His father wasn’t there. But he could see the door to his room slightly ajar. Regardless, no sound was coming from the room.

Aaron jumped down from the attic and walked to his father’s room. Opening the door he looked around. He saw his father’s dresser, desk, and small table. Then he noticed his father lying on the bed. His eyes closed.

Aaron walked closer and could hear his father breathing. “Father wake up.”

There was no response.

He patted his shoulders and chest. “Father, you have to wake up we need to get to work!”

No response.

After trying everything he could think of to wake his father. He remembered what his father and Orion had talked about the day before. Something about people falling asleep without ever waking up.

Could his father have the Thrones Curse?