The next morning I awoke on the bench, confused and fearful. My sword was in my grasp in an instant as my mind fled back to the memories of the night prior. I quickly realized that I was still in the house of the old woman, dressed in my blacksmith’s attire and drenched with sweat. Come to think of it, it was fairly warm in the shack. There was a fire burning brightly in the hearth located but a few feet away from me, and it let off waves of heat that a night before had seemed comforting and homey. Now, it felt as if the flames were suffocating me.

       I heard a pan clank, and my head turned toward the noise. It was the old woman, fumbling about with a tea kettle and muttering to herself. “Do you need any help, ma’am?” I asked, watching her struggle.

       Her red eyes shifted toward me, and she gasped. “Oh, good! You’re awake, dear boy,” she said, motioning to the wooden table located near the center of the main room. “Please take a seat. I have made you some tea to give you strength for your journey.”

       Hesitantly, I made my way toward the table and took a seat facing the kitchen. My sword was resting against the bench behind me. “Again, I give you much thanks for how kindly you have treated me,” I replied, leaning back in the chair. “You really need not do so much for me. I do not deserve it.”

       “Oh, no! Dear boy, you do,” the woman insisted, the kettle beginning to squeal like an angry pig. “It is the least I can do. I recognize your sword. It is one that holds great honor in our lands.”

       “Great honor?” I murmured, glancing back at the silver hilt that glinted back at me from the corner of the room. “What for?”

       The woman turned back to me, her expression fueled by nothing short of obsession. “Oh, a great many things! It has slain great monsters; many the terrible, manxsome foe have met their untimely end at the point of that sword you carry,” she explained, hand eagerly motioning toward him as her eyes grew wide with her manic excitement. “That sword is stained with the blood of Giants, young boy! Giants, and elves, and wolves, and monsters beyond human comprehension! Friends, many, many friends.” The teapot began to squeal louder, steam billowing thickly from the spout.

       “Ma’am, your tea--”

       “Nevermind the goddamn tea,” she shrieked, throwing the pot of boiling water against the floor with a solid crunch. I gawked at her handiwork with an expression part awe, part terror. The pot was now dented inward, tea was spilling out onto the floor, steam erupted from the open hole in the steel. The woman gasped. “Oh dear, looks like I’ve gotten carried away. Let me start a new batch,” she replied tensely, grabbing the pot from the ground with her bare hands and tossing it into the wash-basin.

       I glanced back at my sword. It was too far away from me for my own comfort. My eyes darted back to the woman, who was now filling a fresh kettle full of water and herbs. Before I had a chance to make a mad dash for my sword, the woman was upon me with a rounded cup filled with steaming green liquid that smelled of sweet berries. She placed the cup in front of me before sitting down across from me with her own cup. I paused, waiting for her to drink. “Oh, no. Please, drink up,” she replied, shoving the cup closer to me with one spindly hand. “You are my guest. It is only right to let you drink first at the table.”

       I grimaced, staring down at the strange liquid. My senses were irrevocably muddled by the sweet smell of the drink, and my hands hesitantly pulled the cup up to my face as I took a small sip of the woman’s ‘tea’. It was bitter. Surprisingly so. I thrust the cup far from my face and let out a string of heavy coughs. “Good Lord,” I muttered as my chest heaved. “What do you put in your tea?”

       The woman’s red eyes glinted in the firelight. She did not answer. She only smiled her crooked, yellowed smile as I raced over to the sink to retch. My heart was beating out of my chest, my eyes were leaking terribly, and my stomach was churning more with every step I took. I felt like I was dying. With the last bit of sense I had, I scurried to my sword. As my hand reached down to yank the sword out of the ground, it refused me. I let out a gasp, trying again and again but to no avail. It had been jammed deeply into the floorboards. Seeing the woman’s red eyes narrowing at me as her body swiftly moved toward me, my body once again felt that manic pulse of energy race through it. With unforeseen strength, both my hands wrapped themselves around the hilt of the sword and dragged it out of the floorboards with a song so beautiful it almost brought me to tears.

       The weapon swung delicately through the air, catching the woman in the arm and slicing it open. A terrible shriek escaped the woman as she clutched her wound, which was now oozing strange bluish-green blood. Her bright red eyes glared at me as I raised the sword once more. In an instant, the woman had charged me. I closed my eyes as I let the sword cut through the air and flinched at the crunch I heard moments after.

Cautiously I opened my eyes.

Next Chapter: The Gilded Mirror