Free Into the Heart of Evil by Joel Babbitt

so protect her and you’ll not
need to study so much.”  Low laughter sounded among the assembled warriors. 
Turning to Kiria, the Lore Master smiled a good-natured smile and slowly sat
down.
    Lord Karthan motioned to the council members on
his left.  Seeing that it was their turn, the leader of the Metal Smithies
stood, his fluid motion and speed a stark contrast to that of the Lore Master. 
“In support of the quest, the Metal Smithies, in conjunction with the Trade
Warrior Group, give the following to the yearling—I mean warrior group,” he
corrected himself smoothly.
    From the rear of the chamber several kobolds were
gathering equipment and supplies they had prepared for this moment, one of them
was Gorgon’s father Goryon who beamed with pride as his warrior group leader
spoke.  “That they might defend themselves properly, we took the liberty of
putting them ahead of the others in the queue and, instead of forging for them
weapons of iron, we tied up our new forge and the orcish blacksmith we captured
some time ago and forged for them weapons of steel instead.”  There was a low
murmur of approval from the crowd.  “Goryon, please present these new warriors
with their new weapons.” 
    On cue, Goryon and four other elite warriors
walked forward, stopping in front of the seven former yearlings.  With a
sheepish smile, he stepped forward to hand Durik a fighting spear that had a
fine steel head with steel coverings that extended far down the shaft from the
blade.  With his other hand, he handed Durik a shining new sword with brand new
leather handle wrappings, complete with a hard wooden sheath.  “Something extra
for the winner of the tournament.”
    “Additionally,” the Metal Smithies leader
continued, “to turn spears and arrows in case diplomacy should fail,” the
assembled warriors laughed at this, brushing away the last of the tension in
the room, “we have made for them these stout rectangular shields.”  He pointed
to the tall, metal-banded wooden shields that two of the other elite warriors
with Goryon carried.  With slightly rounded tops and bottoms, iron rimming, and
a large metal knob in the center of each, these were better-constructed shields
the Metal Smithies group had begun to produce for the various warrior groups. 
Goryon grabbed the top shield on the stack and held it up as Durik took it and
slung it over his back.
    Goryon took a step and faced his son.  “You don’t
know how proud I am of you, my son,” he said under his breath.  He turned to
grasp the large, two-handed war hammer that he and his son had spent so many
hours of forging, shaping, and hardening to produce.  Down the length of the
thick wooden shaft ran two strips of steel, one on either side with rivets
through the shaft connecting them to each other.  The head of the hammer had
been beaten and shaped into the form of a pair of dragons’ heads back to back
with their mouths wide open, breathing short, thick cones of fire.  “I only
wish your mother could have been alive to see this day.” 
    Gorgon gripped the hammer near the head with one
hand and took the shield with the other.  “Thank you, Father,” was all he said,
though he beamed with pride.
    Goryon turned again and continued to make his way
down the row.  To Keryak, he gave a fighting spear identical in construction to
the one he’d given Durik.  To Trallik, he gave a pair of fine long knives with
wooden scabbards.  To Arbelk, he gave a sword just like Durik’s, the gleam of
it clear in the red light of the firepots as he looked at it before sheathing
it again.  To Troka, he gave a long, two-handed broadsword, its hilt a wide,
thick bar worthy of a crowbar, much less a sword.  It was a well-built blade,
with softer iron forming much of the blade, but a hard core of steel with
hardened steel lining the edges.
    Finally reaching the last of the new warriors, he
handed Jerrig a long knife with scabbard and a pair of the finest-made