A Collection of Fantasy and Science Fiction Short Stories - Special ...

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His strides long and sure, Azro headed for the forest. A sword forged by Azro’s
own hand was strapped to his side and he wore thick leather pieces as armor for his chest,
back, torso, forearms, and thighs. With the wind blowing from the east and his brown
eyes set on the future, Azro steeped into the dark forest for the first time in his life and
smiled. He had finally done it. He took another step, grinned wider at his increasing
success, and continued walking as the east wind blew him along on his journey.
Azro recalled his first attempt to enter the forbidden forest. It had been on year
after Jina’s death. He had no weapons on him then, just the will to face what had haunted
his nightmares for months. He had no intentions of fighting, and no intentions of going
over the invisible boundary that separated them, but Azro went there every day and stared
unblinking into the darkness, continuing the ritual until the sight of the woods no longer
made his heart hammer erratically in his chest.
The following year, Azro turned twelve, and began to spend more time with his
father, learning the trade of blacksmithing.
“Azro,” Tiloft had said, “put on an apron and help me with this short sword.” He
pulled the metal frame from the fire and placed it on the anvil. “Your mother told me
you’ve been sneaking off to listen to that storyteller again. I told you not to waste any
more money on those useless tales.” He chose the middle sized hammer and brought it
high above his head.
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