Twenty-nine

Gunther and Anezka were already at Black Briar when I arrived bright and early Saturday morning. Gunther hugged me, and Anezka nodded at me from beside one of the workbenches. She’d been banging on a long, curved piece of steel when I popped in, and she wasn’t in the mood to stop what she was doing just to hug me. She was like that.

She was mostly not crazy anymore, or so Gunther told us. I guess I should trust him on that, but I had some pretty scary memories of her losing her shit out in Chumstick. Deep breathing and patience were definitely needed when dealing with her.

I called Bub over, showed him the mods Julie and I had made to our original sketches.

“See where she shifted the second weld down several inches so it could run along the bottom of the support beam instead of the top. Gives us a few more centimeters of length and moves it out of the way of the passenger.”

He picked his teeth with one claw, studying the drawings.

“These look good,” he said. “Maybe we can work on your making skills as well, distort reality a small bit. What do you think?”

I felt the amulet flare against my chest. Three hot pulses as he watched me. I pulled the amulet out, watched as it strobed a couple more time and watched him. I thought he was causing it. “Was that you?” I asked.

He nodded. “I can nudge you in certain directions,” he said. “Nothing too blatant, but enough to keep you on the right path.”

“Bloody nuisance if you ask me,” Anezka said, putting down her hammer and stepping over. “Never really found it helped me much.” She stopped next to Gunther and snaked her arm around his waist. “But you may have different results.”

Gunther put his arm over her shoulder and squeezed. “It’s Sarah’s now, right?”

Anezka shrugged and pulled away. “Barely feel it anymore,” she said. “Bub is hers now. No regrets.” She stepped toward me and held out her hand. I shook it, and she went back to Gunther and sat on the workbench beside where he stood. He was tall, very Viking, and she was not so much.

“We have something for you,” Gunther added. “You want it now, or after?”

Anezka was smirking, and Bub shrugged.

“Now is good. I like surprises.”

Honestly I dreaded surprises. Lately they’ve involved crazy psycho killers or giant raging dragons.

Gunther handed me a nice set of saddlebags to replace the ones that had gotten wrecked in the battle with the necromancer, the dragon, and all those walking dead.

“It was a miracle the Ducati didn’t suffer much more than scratches, though the paint job on the tank was pretty trashed.”

“Bike survived,” I said. “With all the death and destruction, I’m thankful for whatever I have.”

The saddlebags were nicely tooled leather with a pair of crossed hammers in the center, an image of Gram level across the top of them and a set of runes along the bottom. The runes matched the ones on my calf.

“Nice work,” I said, impressed. “Real quality there.”

Gunther shrugged. “Anezka did the design, and I know a guy.”

I hugged him, then hugged Anezka. She was stiff at first, but loosened up into the embrace. It was nice. She smelled like the forge to me. Not quite like Rolph, but similar. More earthy, somehow. With an undertone of hops. Of course, maybe she’d just been drinking.

Inside the saddlebags was a first aid kit, flashlight, water, protein bars, and my two battle hammers. “Very nice,” I said, pulling out one of the hammers. They felt so light in my hand, fit right in my palm like they were made for me.

“They’re not normal,” Anezka said.

“No,” Bub agreed from beside the drafting table. “They have taken on some of the properties of their defeated foes.”

I had noticed that the last time I used them. They felt different, more attuned to me.

Gunther and Anezka both looked at my designs for how we’d mount the clips before we got started. They agreed with the changes Julie had suggested, so while I got my supplies ready, wheeled out the oxygen tank to prep the kit, Gunther went back to the shed where we’d stored the Ducati and pulled it around.

All three of them were staring at me as I worked, almost annoyed. I didn’t let them get to me. I know I took my time setting up my workspace, but I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I grabbed gloves, a throat-to-knee apron, and my welding mask. I had everything I needed, the clamps I’d be attaching, the cleaning solution to prep the surface, and a fire extinguisher handy just in case.

I clapped my hands and rubbed them together. “Let’s melt some steel.”

I turned around and froze.

They’d had the bike repainted. The chrome had been repaired and the normal red and white of the original design had been replaced.

The tank had been painted with a battle scene, the top was a giant white dragon, with her wings flowing down the sides of the tank, her head toward the front forks. It was beautiful.

“What the hell?” I started, and Gunther laughed.

“About time you noticed,” Anezka groused. “You are the pokiest damn apprentice I’ve ever had.”

Bub chortled and walked around the bike. “Notice they replaced the damaged foot pegs from where the bike had skidded on the road the night of the battle.”

I walked around, looking where he pointed. The pegs looked like thick-headed hammers, like the ones I used in battle. The exhaust had been replaced by a slightly larger bore pipe that flared out at the bottom, ending in the roaring mouths of dragons. The front skirting was painted differently on each side. The left showed a blacksmith, probably supposed to be me, standing in front of an anvil with her back to the viewer, hitting a glowing sword with a hammer.

The right side of the skirting showed a winged horse flying towards the mountains just starting to lighten with the dawn.

“Holy shit,” I said, making the full circuit and leaning back against the central anvil. “That is some serious custom work. How much does something like that cost?”

Bub coughed and Anezka frowned.

“Poor form,” she said, grumpily.

But Gunther laughed. “Bartered for it,” he said. “Parted with a vintage seven-inch vinyl of the Sex Pistols, ‘God Save the Queen’.”

Anezka harrumphed. Gunther ran a jazz record store and collected some real esoteric shit. “God Save the Queen” by the Sex Pistols. That was worth more than my bike, I was pretty sure.

“It wasn’t in the best shape,” he said, smiling. “Someone had written on the label. Shame really.”

“So, this is a big deal,” Anezka said. “We’ll leave you and Bub to adding your little addition, but do not fuck up the paint job.”

She turned and walked out of the shop.

Gunther shrugged and followed her.

I turned to Bub and looked at him. “You knew about this?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning his toothy grin. “We’ll be extra careful, and maybe do something really fancy while we’re working. Maybe bleed the paint job up over the clamps to hide the welds. Wanna try it?”

“Hell, I’m half afraid now.”

He chuckled and went over to stand near the welding gear, within easy influence range but not between the equipment and the bike.

I took an abrasive and scored the area where I’d be adding the clamps. The support I’d be adding them to was not part of the major paint job, but they were colored to blend in with the general theme.

Once that was done, I put away the abrasive and got my welding gear on. “Here goes nothing.”

Bub held the first clamp while I used a long welding rod to secure it into place. I took my time, not wanting to use too much of the steel rod at one time, and not wanting to totally screw up the paint job. As I used the torch to melt the steel, I felt a flow from Bub, via the amulet and down my arms. There may have been oxygen burning and steel melting, but the weld was as much magic as chemistry. It was a strange damn feeling.

It really only took me thirty minutes to attach the three large clamps.

The design reminded me of how the old cowboys used to carry their rifles on their saddles, slung down to the side. Bub and I rigged the three clips to hold Gram in her sheath, along the side of the bike from the front of the frame closest to the forks, backwards below the gas tank and half under the edge of the seat. I could ride the bike and carry Gram with me. After the year I’d had, I wasn’t inclined to go around unarmed ever again. From giants running me off into the quarry yard a year ago, to the necromancer kidnapping Jai Li in the fall. Things didn’t go down when it was convenient for me.

Gram normally rode in the truck behind the seat along with my old saddlebags. But today, with the new rig in place, I’d be able to carry Gram on my newly painted beast. I could deliver an ass-whupping and still satisfy my need for speed.

I locked Gram in place and stepped on the bike. There was plenty of clearance for my legs, and the sword was nearly concealed unless you were looking for it. I notched that up to my budding maker skills.

I stepped back off the bike and stood back, looking at the handy work. It flowed, following the lines of the bike, and the calipers blended in with the paint job—camouflaged, as it were.

Bub went to fetch Gunther and Anezka who apparently hadn’t gone very far, just to the picnic benches beside the shed.

They came in, made appropriate noises about the sword mount, and helped me clean up. Once all the gear was put away, Bub disappeared for a few minutes and Trisha and her squad came into the shed carrying two large boxes. Frick and Frack trundled along behind them, hand in hand with Bub.

“Presents for you,” Trisha said. “These are from the squad for your help.” She paused, her eyes full of tears. “And for keeping Frick and Frack safe.” She hugged me and stepped back, wiping her eyes.

Nancy, Gary, and Benny stood with her, each of them smiling.

There were two large boxes. I had a good idea what they were.

Inside were two helmets. Each with a custom paint job. One had the crossed hammers and sword design that was similar to the original helmet that Gunther had gotten me. That one had been lost in the battle. It also matched the design on the new saddlebags. The second helmet was midnight blue with a guitar on one side, and a crossbow and short sword crossed on the other. That was Katie’s.

There was much crying and hugging all around. Jimmy and Deidre came out of the house to join in, and several other folks from the farm buzzed in to comment on everything.

I was overwhelmed and ready to collapse in a puddle of too much emotion.

I took the helmets into the house and sat with Katie for a long while. She needed a guitar in the room. That’s what was missing. I’d get her one as soon as I could. She never moved, but I had to show her what our crew had done. Had to let her know how much I missed her and that I was looking forward to riding with her again soon.

Eventually I had to get back to Circle Q and Jai Li.

I walked back out into the yard. Bub was off with the twins, and the rest of the crew were scattered doing their daily routines. Deidre and Jimmy saw me out of the house, passing hugs around, and leaving me to my leaving.

I attached the saddlebags, put on my helmet, locked Katie’s in place, and hit the road.

The bike roared between my thighs as I pulled out of the farm—the sound of the engine drowning out the voices in my head.