The Awakened Book Two (28 page)

“I began by carefully removing the peeled metal, to see if I could understand how it was applied. I determined that it must have been dipped into molten metal, or had the metal poured over its surface. Once cooled, the metal should be able to be shaped as needed. I decided not to dip it for fear that the glass would shatter from the heat. So I poured the molten metal over the blade, slowly, but it wouldn’t stick and rolled off to the ground.”

How long have you been working on this?” Kael asked, not taking his eyes off the sword.

“…for the last two evenings. But as I said, it wouldn’t stick. Then I realized that I could make a hollow mold, like a scabbard of thin metal, and perhaps a resin to adhere it to the glass. But to do that, I had to remove the peeled metal from the sword. So, I unwrapped the leather cord around the handle, removed the guard, and peeled away the metal.”

“And this is what you found,” Kael finished the man’s statement.

“Yes, but there is more.”

The man now had Kael’s attention.

“It was dirty and discolored underneath. So I began to wipe it with a cleaning solution and quickly found the cloth and my hand in shreds.”

Kael now noticed that two of the fingers on the blacksmith’s right hand were wrapped in bandages.

“Then I wrapped a cloth around one of my chisels,” he said, reaching down to pick up an object off the floor next to the anvil. He handed it to Kael.

It was a six-inch iron rod, with a flattened spade at one end and blunt on the opposite end, rounded through years of contact with a hammer. The spade end had a deep gouge that nearly clove the spade in two.

“The sword couldn’t have done this,” Kael replied, handing back the chisel.

The man dismissed Kael’s comment. “After I saw that the glass wouldn’t be harmed, I put it in the furnace to burn off the grime.”

Kael took a deep breath and started to get agitated.

The blacksmith held up his hand. “I knew that it wouldn’t be harmed. And it came out gleaming like this, just as I knew it would.”

Kael paused, realizing that this man was no amateur. He wouldn’t have taken such a risk if he thought there was anything to be concerned about. “And so it’s been sitting here, like this?”

“Not exactly,” replied the man, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Take a look at this,” he said, turning around and motioning for Kael to follow.

At the next work station stood an anvil with a cleft running down the approximate center. “What’s that used for?” Kael asked.

“That’s not used for anything. That’s what your sword did to my anvil.”

Kael looked back at the sword, shimmering in the light of the furnace, then back to the blacksmith. “You can’t be serious.”

“I most certainly am. Try it yourself, but watch out for the blade if you value your fingers.”

Kael eyed the man suspiciously as he backed away toward the sword. As his fingers encircled the handle, he thought briefly that this could be an elaborate joke. In just a few minutes, Dacien would peer out from the shadows, laughing at Kael as he tried to destroy an iron anvil with a glass sword. But that thought quickly left his mind as he lifted the instrument.

It was light, and weighted perfectly, but wasn’t delicate. It felt more solid and dense than anything he had ever felt. As he moved it through the air, the sword seemed to vibrate with a life of its own, and Kael instantly took a liking to it. He walked back to the where the blacksmith stood, and stopped in front of the anvil.

With a quick look around the room to ensure that Dacien wasn’t hiding, Kael moved the blade into position over the dark iron mass. He paused, then tapped the blade lightly on the surface of the anvil. Leaning forward, he inspected the surface to find a half-inch gouge in the hard metal.

The blacksmith was smiling now, and backed away from the anvil.

Kael straightened and widened his stance. With his left hand he gripped the butt of the handle, while his right held firm a full handbreadth away to increase the leverage that could be applied. With a two handed grip, he raised the sword over his head and brought it down in one swift movement, putting his full weight behind the force of the attack.

A high pitched hum vibrated from the sword, followed by a piercing shriek as it impacted the anvil. A bright flash of light momentarily blinded Kael. When his eyes adjusted again to the darkness, the anvil lay in two pieces with the sword embedded in the stone floor. Kael pulled the sword free and lifted it to his eyes to inspect for damage.

“There won’t be a scratch on it,” the man offered.

“Hmm,” Kael mumbled after confirming the man’s words.

“It is one of the ten,” the blacksmith stated, without a hint of hesitation in his tone.

Kael lowered the sword and looked to the man. “What?”

“…one of the ten objects crafted by the gods themselves.”

“Oh yes,” Kael replied. It was part of an ancient Orud legend to which Kael hadn’t ever paid much attention. But now the thought was intriguing. As he moved the sword through the air, getting a feel for how it handled, he continued. “I’ve traveled to many far-away places. And the Orudan are not the only people to have such a legend.”

The blacksmith nodded. “I’ve always thought of it as a fun story, a fairy tale to inspire children, and sometimes men. But until this,” he said, pointing at the sword. “…I never actually believed it.”

Kael didn’t know what to say.

“Look at it. Can the hand of any mortal craft such a thing? It is perfect. It doesn’t even bear any marks of its crafting. I didn’t know that something could be so smooth or proportioned.”

Kael had to agree. It was as if he was holding the idea of a sword, rather than the sword itself.
And not even the idea of a master craftsmen, but the idea of someone capable of imagining more perfect ideas.

“Surely, the bladesmith who gave this to you was a highly skilled artist. To be able to cover such a thing with metal is nearly an impossible feat.”

“He was indeed,” Kael replied. Then a question came to his mind, but he stopped short of speaking it aloud. He decided instead to finish up with the blacksmith and leave as quickly as possible. “How much do I owe you?”

The man looked stunned. “…n…nothing,” he replied.

“Thank you for your generosity,” Kael said, walking back to the furnace to grab the cloth from the floor.

“…b…but” the man stammered. “Might I just keep it one more day…to study it?” he added.

“I’m afraid I must be leaving.”

“Of course,” the blacksmith replied, sounding dejected.

“I’ll give your regards to the General. He was right about you…the best in the Empire,” Kael quickly added, trying to distract him with compliments.

“Very well,” the man replied.

Kael strode quickly for the door and bade the man a good evening as he walked out into the alleyway. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt uneasy, like he had secret that needed to be kept. As he approached the end of the alley where it intersected with the main thoroughfare, he glanced back to see the blacksmith standing in the light of his doorway. Kael waved to the man and walked around the corner, out of sight.

After half an hour of waking in the brisk night air, Kael’s heart began to beat more slowly and the questions once again rose to his mind.

Why did the old man give this to me?

And why was it disguised? Then, Kael remembered a moment from his time at the fortress city. He had only ever gone into the temple once, after Matsuri was killed. And he seemed to vaguely remember a glass sword hanging on the wall above the altar.

Is this the sword from the temple?

His mind was now racing as he glanced behind him. After confirming that he wasn’t being followed, he patted the object, wrapped in cloth, that he’d unconsciously hidden beneath his cloak.

Chapter 20

On the morning of the third day of the High Council, Dacien sat in his privileged place among the leaders of the Empire. Plans were proceeding sluggishly as the Emperor tried to concoct a plan from the opinions of the other members present. Dacien kept his mouth closed for most of the discussion, leaving matters to those who were more experienced. The General from the North was trying his best to help put structure to the Emperor’s plan, but only occasionally succeeded.

Somewhere in the middle of discussions regarding the impact of the proposed changes on the social life of various major cities, Dacien noted that the court messenger was standing patiently at the back of the Council chamber. A few seconds later, the Emperor noticed, as well, waving the gentleman forward.

His walk was almost a scurry as he moved quickly down the aisle past the council members, and navigated his way to the side of the Emperor. He whispered something into the Emperor’s ear, which was received with surprise.

“Gentlemen,” the Emperor began, as the messenger walked quickly back through the chambers toward the entrance. “We have an urgent situation to address. We will need to postpone this council until further notice.” The Emperor waved his hand and the double doors at the rear of the room opened to reveal six soldiers in waiting.

They were dirty and in full travel armor, a contrast to the men seated around the room in the council. They strode forward with confidence, stopping just behind the council members.

“Your Majesty,” their sergeant began. “We have been sent to inform you that a Korgan army marches for
Orud
. We overtook them three days ago, and we estimate them to now be a day’s journey from the outskirts of
Orud
.”

The Generals were already on their feet. “How many?” asked the General from the north.

“…five hundred.”

The council chamber immediately broke into a cacophony of sound, as the men began to exchange their opinions. Eventually, one voice rose above the rest and order returned to the council.

“We must evacuate the plantations and dwellings to the north and bring the citizens inside the city walls. Five hundred men will be easily dealt with as soon as they are in range of our ballista.” It was the Northern General, commanding the attention of the room.

“We will not allow our citizens to be displaced for such an inconvenience,” the Emperor argued. “No, I think you will ride out to meet them.”

“Your Majesty, I beg your pardon. It will only risk more lives to meet them on the battlefield without the advantage offered by the city walls.”

The Emperor turned to the soldiers. “I assume they are afoot if you overtook them three days ago?”

“Yes your Majesty.”

“Very well. Magnus, you will take my army and ride out to meet them before they endanger any of my citizens.”

“Your Majesty, your army is supposed to protect this city; you will be vulnerable without their protection.”

The Emperor’s eyes flashed. “You are bordering on insubordination, General,” he yelled. The chambers grew awkwardly silent. “My army will protect this city by riding out in full view of the citizens, with you at the front. You will also take the generals from the East and South. And the city of
Orud
will see how their Emperor deals with threats, not by hiding and waiting, but by striking out to protect them.”

Dacien looked back and forth between the Emperor and the Northern General. “Only us?” he blurted out.

The Emperor’s fierce gaze turned on Dacien. “I don’t see how the North and South naval forces with be of any use in a land battle. If you have a problem with laying down your life in service of the Emperor, we will have to reassess your new appointment. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Dacien replied. But inside, his mind was screaming in anger. The most powerful man in the Orudan Empire had just played favorites as if he was a child. And matters of war were anything but child’s play. Dacien was disgusted by the man’s inappropriate use of authority, but there was nothing that could be done except to follow his orders and make the best of the situation. “Generals,” he addressed his new companions. “Let’s go kill some Korgs.”

“Indeed,” the Northern General replied, with a nod of respect.

* * * *

A knock came to Kael’s door. He was standing at his balcony, overlooking the city and deep in thought about his strange evening. He had moment of panic, an instinctual response, which disappeared quickly as he realized that the sword was safely hidden. He walked over to the door and opened it cautiously.

“My lord, General Dacien sends you this message” said the soldier, handing Kael a small piece of rolled parchment. “He rides north this morning on an urgent matter. You…”

“What matter?” Kael interrupted.

“To confront an army of Korgs; he rides with the Generals of the North and East and they command the Emperor’s army. You are to report to the northern wall as a precaution against a direct attack on the city. Armor and weaponry will be provided. All the information is there,” he finished, pointing at the message.

“Thank you,” Kael replied to the messenger, who promptly spun on his heels and left.