Hunt of the Bandham (The Bowl of Souls: Book Three) (53 page)

“I was busy making the arrowheads, you idiot,” she replied.

“They’re her first magic work in steel and she done a perty good job,” Lenny said.

Qyxal accepted the quiver with a bow and made as if to hug the dwarf. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“Enough thankin’,” Lenny said, avoiding the elf’s embrace. He reached for another bundle. This one was long and bulky. It seemed quite heavy from the way he hefted it. “Fist. Yer next.”

“Me?” The ogre stepped forward with a wide grin.

“Yeah, I dun told you I was replacin’ yer mace you busted on that dag-blamed rock giant.”

“Oh! It took so long I thought you forgot,” Fist said.

“You want it or not?” Lenny grumped.

“Yes!” Fist said, a bit of panic entering his eyes.

“Fine, then.” Lenny unwrapped the bundle and lifted an enormous mace. It was a thing to behold, long enough that a normal man would have to wield it two-handed. The leather grip and shaft were covered in runes and the spherical head was unlike any mace Justan had ever seen. He could feel Fist’s excitement bursting through the bond. Squirrel must have felt it too, because he left his furry pouch and bounded away from the ogre. He scampered up the side of the forge to take a perch on the roof and watch from a safe distance.

“I know what yer thinkin’,” Lenny said. “It looks kinda weird. But I had fun with this one. Half the head’s set with spikes for puncturin’ and the other half is ridged for bashin’ and tearin’. The runes make it tough enough to handle the punishment yer gonna unleash on yer enemies. You ain’t gonna break this-un, that’s fer sure.” Lenny chuckled and grinned his gap-toothed grin. “And this is the part that makes me a genius. You wanna guess what it does?”

“Does it bash like Buster?” Fist asked, his eyes aglow.

“Naw. I figgered that help bashin’ was the last thing you needed. Yer plenty strong. No, what you need is speed. This thing’ll make you faster.”

Justan laughed in amazement. His mind buzzed with the possibilities. “Really?”

“Yeah! I said so, didn’t I? Fist, when yer holdin’ this, you’ll run faster, swing faster, and defend faster and-!”

Fist caught the dwarf up in a crushing hug. “Thank you!” He put the stunned and sputtering dwarf down and picked up the mace. He gripped the pommel and his arm lifted the mace so fast he nearly gave himself a face full of spikes.

“Whoa, son. Dog-gone it, stop swingin the blasted thing around! It’s gonna take some gettin’ used to. Take it easy at first ‘till you get the hang of it. One other thing. It’ll make you faster, but you’ll also get tired faster ‘cause yer movin’ so quick.”

“Okay!” Fist swung the wicked weapon in quick strokes. Justan and Qyxal took a few careful steps back just in case.

“Lenui, don’t forget-!” Betty said.

“I ain’t forgettin’ nothin’!” Lenny snapped. “Benjo, bring it out.”

Benjo went inside and came out burdened with an enormous oval shield. The main body was stout wood that had been edged and backed with iron. The entire surface was covered in runes.

“That thing is massive,” Qyxal said, and Justan had to agree. The biggest shield he had ever seen was the iron shield of Stout Harley, the defense specialist on the Battle Academy Council. This one was half again that size.

“I did the runing on this one,” Bettie said. “The wood won’t rot or splinter and the iron won’t rust, though it’s damned heavy.”

“Thank you!” Fist said. Bettie saw him coming, but with mace in hand, he was too fast for her to avoid. He caught her up in an embrace as eager as the one he had given Lenny, lifting the muscular half-orc and swinging her around. He stumbled, still unused to the extra speed and they nearly fell to the ground.

“Whoa! Settle down, you big ogre!” Bettie laughed as she extracted herself from the ogre’s grip. She walked over and took the heavy shield from Benjo. She handed it to Fist. “Try that on your other arm and see how it feels. That’s right, slide your arm through the straps.”

Fist slid his arm through the reinforced straps on the back. He lifted the shield and mace in the air and laughed aloud. Justan thought that the sight of the enormous ogre so heavily armed was one of the most terrifying things any enemy was bound to see. He was getting more and more excited for the battles ahead.

Justan wanted to see his new swords more than ever.

“Dag-gum, he’s a big target,” the dwarf mused, stroking his moustache. “We really need to get him some armor.”

“A half-helmet and breastplate maybe?” Bettie asked.

“Hmm . . .” The Dwarf nodded.

“Fist, have you ever used a shield before?” Qyxal asked.

“No!” Fist said. “But I will now.” He mimed being attacked, swinging his mace and lifting his shield to ward off an invisible blow.

“We’ll have to spend some time practicing with that along the way,” Bettie said, with a shake of her head. She looked at Justan. “Samson and I have experience with shields. We’ll help him. Fist! C’mere, let me get you your shoulder harnesses so you can put your mace away!”

“Harnesses?”

“Yeah, you can’t put that nasty thing in a sheath. It’d even be hard to hang it from a belt. The spikes would smack into your legs and cut you up while you were running. Benjo and I put together a rig so you can sling the mace over your back. Then it won’t be in the way. I even made some hooks to hang your shield on so you can walk with your mace and shield on your back and leave your arms free.” Bettie lifted a rather complicated looking bundle of runed leather straps and marched towards the ogre.

“Where’s the rogue horse?” Lenny asked.

“Still asleep.” Justan hadn’t woken her, knowing that she had a long journey ahead.

“Get her over here. Benjo’s finished her saddle.”

“Really?” Justan said. He turned to Benjo. “Can I see it?”

“Sure, Sir Edge. I’ll get it for you,” the large man said and ducked back into the forge.

He came out carrying what Justan could only describe as a work of art. Justan walked up and ran his hand over the leather, marveling at the exquisite craftsmanship.

“It’s beautiful,” Qyxal said, his eyes wide.

Benjo blushed. “I-it had to be beautiful for Gwyrtha.” He had spent some time with her over the last few weeks while he had fitted her for the saddle. She had even let him ride her a couple times.

He began pointing out the features, “It has a low cantle and front and rear self-adjusting cinches because of the way she runs; you know, more catlike than horselike. I-I also made it with low forward jockeys for slow riding and a set of rear grips for your feet for when you’re laying forward against her while she’s running at speed. There’s no horn because it would just get in your way.”

Gwyrtha! Come see this! Your saddle is finished,
Justan sent.

Yes!
she replied, switching from sleep to wakefulness almost instantly.

“She’s coming,” Justan said.

“Gwyrtha is going to love it,” Qyxal said.

“And we didn’t let the dwarf add any of his extra metal bits,” Bettie added.

“Nothin’ would blow up!” Lenny exclaimed.

“It would!” Bettie retorted. “Rogue horse chunks everywhere. How would you replace that? I tell you, you don’t know what you’re doin’ when it comes to mixing leather and metal magics on horses.”

“Yer wrong! I been on horses since I was a dag-burned stub of a young dwarf. There’s lots you don’t know about me, woman!”

“And what happened to the fat sow you tried your little ‘test harness’ on?” she said, hands on hips.

“That pig was good eatin’!”

Gwyrtha arrived and ignored the rest of them, trotting right up to Benjo. She sniffed the saddle, gave it a snort, and rubbed her head against him.
Put it on
.

Benjo cleared his throat. “As you requested, it’s been runed to keep you warm in the winter and cool in the summer. The leather will stay supple far longer than normal leather will.”

Gwyrtha turned her side to Benjo, and gave him an eager nudge, causing the big man to stumble back a few steps.
Put it on!

“Um, she wants us to put it on,” Justan said.

 “I can see that,” Benjo replied. “Give me a hand, Sir Edge. I’ll show you how to properly secure it.”

Justan nodded and helped Benjo place it over her back. The large man described the saddle’s features in more detail as they cinched the straps, more talkative than Justan had ever remembered seeing him.

When they finished, Gwyrtha moved over to bump Fist. The ogre was examining the details on his new mace, showing them to Squirrel, who had retaken his customary perch on the ogre’s shoulder.

Look
, she sent.

“It looks good, Gwyrtha.” the ogre said, patting her head. Squirrel leapt from his shoulder and ran from the top of her head, down her mane to sit on the saddle expectantly. Gwyrtha strutted about a bit before taking a quick run down the road to test it out. Squirrel began to slide on the leather and darted forward to clutch her mane in desperation.

Fist laughed.

”Benjo,” Justan said. “You outdid yourself.”

The large man shuffled his feet, “Well I-.”

“Yeah, boy. You done good.” Lenny clapped him on the back. Then he bent over to pick up the final cloth bundle. He turned to Justan. Justan’s heart skipped in his chest.

“Okay son, now here’s the best part. I gotta tell you, these were the hardest dag-blasted swords I ever made. Everthin’ was a mess to begin with. The magicked metals were stubborn to work with even with the meltin’ powder, and I had no idear how I was ‘posed to set yer rune-dagger blades into the swords. It took every garl-friggin trick and bit of Firegobbler know-how I had to get the metal shaped just right. Bettie could tell you, I was sweatin’ buckets-full tryin’ not to make a mistake.”

“He didn’t curse for almost a full day, he was so blasted focused,” she confirmed.

Lenny nodded solemnly. “Finally I got ‘em ready. I heated up yer rune blades as much as the magic’d let me and slid them into the slots I made in the swords.” The dwarf whistled through his missing tooth. “Lemme tell you, son, it was amazin’. Everthin’ clicked into place and the magic sealed in by itself and-. Just . . . well, look.”

The dwarf opened the bundle and Justan’s breath caught in his throat. The blades were exquisite. As Justan had envisioned, each blade began below the hilt and curved out to the tip like slender quarter moons. The hilts were inset into the back of the blades with a gap just wide enough space carved out for his fingers. The sides of the blades were finely runed in a starburst pattern and at the center of the patterns were the naming runes. The rune on one sword matched the rune on the back of his right hand while the other matched the rune on the palm of his left.

“I can’t even see where you inserted the dagger blades,” Justan said.

“Yeah, well, when I put them blades in, they just sorta melted in with the rest of the metal and yer namin’ runes appeared. It was like it was meant to be.”

Justan reached for the swords. “What do they do?”

Just before Justan’s hands touched them, Lenny pulled them out of his reach. “So you see, the thing is, I couldn’t rune the swords too much before-hand. If I tried to force a particular magic on it, yer namin’ runes might’ve rejected them. All I could do was prepare ‘em fer whatever magic yer rune-blades were gonna bring with ‘em.”

“What are you saying?” Justan asked.

“Well, the thing is, I don’t rightly know what they’re gonna do.”

“How is that?”

The dwarf winced uncomfortably. “Yer blades basically runed themselves. Once it were sealed, I couldn’t add nothing to em. I can tell you this much. Like all namin’ weapons, they’re indestructible as long as yer alive. Also this one-.” He gestured to the sword emblazoned with Justan’s wizard rune. “When you touch it, somethin’ funny happens. All yer emotions and feelin’s just vanish. Poof! Yer anger, yer pain, whatever, they seem to go away. Dunno why. The other one, I ain’t got no idear what it does. But it does somethin’.”