Tales Of Grimea (20 page)

“Lady Aria!” he exclaimed, heart skipping a
beat, “to what do I give the pleasure?”

She took a seat and waited pleasantly while
Silver put away the sword he was sharpening, wiped himself off with
a towel, and caught the breath that had fled her arrival. “Well,
firstly I wanted to say hi,” She said, accepting a glass of the
apple juice Mrs Copferstal had brought him earlier that day. Mrs
Copferstal was Flint the strategist’s wife, and was far more
forgiving of him than the man was of himself. “Secondly, I wanted
to ask why you haven’t made me a new sword yet.” Her eyes looked
slightly upset, and it confused Silver for a moment. Then he
realized that she thought he’d shunned her.

“Lady Aria-“

“Just Aria will do. Look here,” she said,
clearly hurt now. “I know you felt what I felt when we met. I want
to know that it wasn’t some kind of sorcery... You promised me a
talk.” He could see clear determination, and Silver understood her
fears. She thought he had seduced her with magic, and after their
initial agreement they had avoided the subject.

“Aria... Listen, I’ll tell you everything,
but I promise you that it wasn’t a trick. I...” The words stuck in
his throat. “Emotions have a way of being instant, but also
building through the knowing of others. My magic goes around that.
I love you too,” at that she gasped, almost making the blacksmith
think he’d misunderstood, despite knowing of the magic and being
sure that he loved him too, but then nodded in a show for him to
continue. “I can’t control it, but wouldn’t stop it if I could.
It’s part of my magic, Coeur. When I meet the one person who fits
me perfectly, my magic reaches out and entwines our souls, and if I
let them go there’s no chance for happiness left in me. Not through
love, and not around it. It is a way of… hastening the
inevitable.”

They spoke for hours then, about how they
felt and why. “And now?” the beautiful golden haired woman inquired
at length, “You say we love each other, and I feel something. I
won’t be with a man I don’t know, not because of magic.” Silver
thought that Coeur had chosen perfectly, for he thought the exact
same way. What small hint of doubt had been harboured in his soul
fell away. “I think we should accept our feelings, but not rush
into them. Let’s get to know each other, our likes and dislikes. We
could start off as friends and see where it goes.” They had by now
drained their glasses of apple juice, but the furnace’s warmth and
each other’s company gave them a comfortable escape from the cool
weather outside. “Deal?” he asked, and she nodded happily. Start
slowly and see where it goes. “So where exactly did you meet
your…”

They were married within the year. The
wedding was a joyous occasion anticipated by everyone. For some
reason Uncle Bast insisted on presiding over the affair, and looked
slightly out of place in a priest’s robe. He also had not known
that he needed to have his words memorised for the whole thing, and
had thus caused a month long delay. By that time, attacks only came
once every two weeks. New clothes were prepared for everyone, even
Old lady Grathilda, and Mervin wept for joy so much that he got his
beard covered in magical frost. A guard called Mense, who was
special for being the only one holding multiple forged weapons,
exhibited his knife juggling skills for everyone. All in all, it
was a wonderful day for the entire town, who loved Silver for who
he was and what he’d done.

A tragedy struck, however, less than a month
after the wedding. In one particularly ill fated battle, Hans
slipped and was struck down by a goblin. He fell into his precious
Helga’s arms with his last shocked breath and managed to tell her
that he loved her for the ninth and last time, but that did little
to lessen the hurt on her face. After his burial she had gone into
Silver’s smithy and thanked him for the confidence he had given her
lover, as well as the longer periods of peace that he allowed their
Erbhelm. “You know what else lies in my heart, blacksmith of Coeur.
Tell me what it is,” she’d asked stiffly, standing tall and proud.
Hans had never been one to be sentimental either, thought the
blacksmith.

Silver sat in his chair and sobbed bitterly.
“Yes I do, Ma’am,” he’d answered truthfully. He could feel her
grief like an open wound. “You wish that I never came, that I’d
stayed west. Hans would have remained weak and alive. He would
never have told you that he loved you, that day under the oak tree,
but he’d have been alive.” She nodded and left silently, leaving
Silver crying hot tears in her stead.

If he lived long enough, would the same pain
reach his own wife? He didn’t tell Aria of Helga’s visit, although
he explained her pain. His lovely had nothing to say, but her mere
presence helped. It was all because of that troll, Silver decided.
It was all its fault.

It was six months later that it happened.
That week Silver spent an unusual amount of time in his smithy,
working on what seemed to be one blade, long and straight and
strong. It was double edged, its guard was of silver and red, its
grip ribbed and its pommel rounded. The blade reflected runes along
deadly edges, each in a different language. For seven days and
seven nights Silver worked on it, until exhaustion took upon his
soul. He poured everything he had into it, and Aria had allowed him
space as he did it. She had understood that he did something
important, and thus had asked no questions. On the seventh night,
however, another villager came.

Grathilda.

She cackled at him in that way of hers and
Silver smiled tiredly back at her. “What are you doing, young’un?”
she asked.

“Forging a sword,” he said simply, causing
her to nod.

“I can see that!” Out of the corner of his
eyes, Silver spied her point at her blindfold and a laugh was
forced out of him. Then the old lady sat, scratching at her arm.
“Got any milk?” She’d demanded, and Silver paused in his work to
pour them both some, groaning as he stretched. His sword was almost
complete, after all. No need to rush it now. She demanded that they
exchange mugs because hers had less in it. Silver chuckled and
complied, wanting to appease her.

“Now, child. Mervan sent me here because he
felt you pour more strength and care than he’d ever felt into that
thing. Well, other than that monster sword you have. He said that
in the Astral realm it looked like you were calling a tornado to
connect the sky and that blade.”

“Well, with all du-“

“Said that much strength scared him, and he
sent me here to see the truth of it.” Despite being blind,
Grathilda nonetheless had an uncanny way of looking at people as
she talked to them. She was sly too, Silver knew. There was no way
around it.

“It’s a sword to kill the troll,” Silver
whispered, causing her to gasp. “It was never impossible, just
takes a lot of power. This blade, it will kill the troll then
break, and then you can live happily here. No troll, forever. Even
the magical creatures will be free from its grip.”

The old purple robed lady eyed him carefully
whilst licking her lips, probably mulling things over. Silver could
sense her distrust. She trusted very little, but she was willing to
give him a chance. “And the cost?” she asked finally.

The blacksmith of Coeur almost thought of
lying, but could tell she’d find out. “Forbidden technique,” he
answered gruffly, hoping to end it there.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.”

Damn it.
Miserably he said it, cursing
both her and old man Mervan. “It’s called the Coeur Tueur, the
heart slayer. It needs to be quenched... in the life’s blood of a
loved one.”

The truth seer looked stunned for a second,
then something shifted and Silver couldn’t tell what she felt.
Confusion, perhaps. “Ah, well... best leave you to it,” she
remarked finally, getting back to her feet. After draining her mug,
Grathilda turned to leave, her black ropy hair swinging around her
wrinkly face. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything, thanks for the
milk.” Silver thought of finishing the deed then, but unnatural
tiredness took him somehow and he fell asleep.

The next day, Silver was arrested. An
oblivious Aria had tried to protest, not knowing what the matter
was, but uncle Bast almost challenged her to a duel in his rage. It
was all the guards could do to stop him from killing Silver then
and there. The blacksmith was chained, locked for half a day, then
brought to the central hall for trial. He was manacled and chained,
although no one had the heart to beat him. The hall seemed a very
different place indeed, for it was now filled with grim faces and
both hearths were extinguished. The place looked bleak and blue
with cold, and even the runes along its floor middle seemed more
accusing, somehow. Silver realized that much of the phrasing had
been purposely vague. Now he stood once more before Erbhelm’s grim
faced council. “Good morning, sweetheart.” He said sheepishly.
Aria, apparently, hadn’t yet been told a thing and was completely
bewildered in her seat. Bastion Stormbreather stood slowly in his
seat, for once leaving his weapon behind. Presumably he didn’t want
to touch anything that Silver had made at the moment. Or perhaps he
didn’t trust himself with a weapon around the blacksmith. The
thought made Silver nervous, especially with how he could feel the
warrior’s rage. It burned. Something else niggled at him as he
stood surrounded by his peers, however. Silver knew everyone in
this town, but he now felt a presence that he’d not felt before,
coming from the leader’s table. He could see no one unknown at the
council, however. He quickly dismissed the thought, however, for
Bastion seemed ready for murder.

“Silver Vermillion,” uncle Bast started in a
booming voice. “You are accused of plotting with the intent of
murder.” The audience, which was of course the whole town, seemed
shocked. Especially Aria. Before she or Silver could say anything
the older man bellowed for silence and immediately called for
Mervan to come forward and explain Silver’s magic again to
everyone. After that, old lady Grathilda stepped in his place and
told of Mervan waking her up at night. “Quite rudely,” she added.
She then relayed the entire contents of her conversation with the
mage and her subsequent visit to Silver’s smithy, finishing off
with how he’d confessed to the blade needing to be quenched in a
loved one’s blood. When she was done, both uncle Bast and Aria were
visibly shaking with anger. “See, brothers and sisters?” said the
warrior, “This is what he plotted behind our backs. Kill the troll,
but take a loved one to do the deed. And who does he love? Who of
you all was going to pay the price?” He looked furious, working
himself into a greater rage. Silver could feel the mountain of a
man almost slip into bloodlust. “Your leader, my niece! Do you want
my niece dead in exchange for the troll? Would it appease our
ancestor? Cold blooded sacrifice?”

“Nay!” bellowed the crowd as one in response,
and Silver couldn’t help but admire their unity. This is why he had
decided to use that technique after all. This town deserved a happy
ending. Now they booed him to the rhythm of Bastion Stormbreather
hammering his right fist against his table repeatedly. The hall
shook with their volume and dust came from the ceiling. Then
moustached man brought his arm down and silence reigned. “Now, what
say you we do to this-“

“Bastard!” yelled his niece suddenly, cutting
him off. She looked almost as angry as the man was, but Silver
could feel that she was much more furious. Hurt lay inside her too,
for she felt betrayed by her husband and it cut at him like a
knife. This was why he’d wanted to finish the night before, while
she still believed him a strong good man. He hadn’t wished to see
such a beautiful woman look so hurt. “You were going to kill me!”
she screamed, and uncle Bast turned as if to comfort her.

“Yes, child, but for now we will take care
of-“

“You don’t understand, uncle!” she accused,
“It wasn’t my blood he’d wanted to use for the sword.” At that the
man looked baffled, and Silver stared at his feet in shame. “Coeur
Tueur, uncle... that blade was meant for him!”

Silence reigned for a while, and Silver tried
to look no one in the eyes. It wasn’t meant to be like this. He was
supposed to be dead and gone by now. They would have cried, then
gotten over it, then persevered as only Erbhelm could. “He was
going to kill himself so we could live free of the troll!” his wife
insisted again.

“Is this true?” asked him Grathilda in the
silence, and for a while Silver didn’t answer, then whispered a
weak affirmative, hating his tongue. She looked to Bast and
repeated the nod.

“Why? Why not me, Silver?”demanded his wife,
and Silver looked at her in astonishment.

Then he saw the look in her eyes and said “I
love you.” She didn’t respond, and Silver added “I didn’t want to
be like Helga, to see you go first. I thought it would be better if
I died to make everyone here happy.” He then felt anger and hurt
coming from everyone in the crowd. They were all friends. “You
would have been crushed at first, but peace would have made you all
happy eventually! Don’t you understand?”

“Everybody would have been happy eventually,
that’s true. They would have gone back to their loved ones and
hugged them and cried… Except for me,” Aria countered, then knocked
the buckler at her shoulder. “This shield belonged to my father,
Karl Stormbreather. He held the troll down singlehandedly the last
time it came down the mountain. He died because he used this shield
to save uncle Bast instead of himself, and I never saw a man so
broken to be alive.” Her uncle said nothing, but his eyes said
everything. “I wear this shield to remind myself that throwing your
life away will leave others even more hurt.” He uncle nodded, pride
and sadness both apparent in his stance. “If you don’t believe me,
love, then see for yourself.” She looked at the people in this
hall, people who have suffered against the troll for many years,
and who had lost loved ones to its cruelty. “Would you here
exchange Silver’s life for the troll’s?”