To the Stars End- Original Soul

by Demetri Grim

  “Beka is my apprentice so yes she will be helping and no, not entirely one of hers. The blade work is mine, the girl has a knack for filigree.” He lifted his thick calloused fingers, wiggling them in the air before the elf. “Mine are not as nimble as they used to be. Even at my best I would never compare to my niece.” Her face reddened even more. She wished they would just stop talking about her, it was all too embarrassing. She just wanted to hear the elf’s order, not all this rubbish. Beka knew she did not take compliments well. She was good at her job and apparently quite the looker, not that she would admit it. She still always felt uncomfortable when being praised or complemented. Somehow it made her feel like they were just trying to butter her up, or get something from her with useless and embarrassing comments. Most of the girls her age would swoon over such attention. Beka usually just felt kinda nauseous. She knew her uncle was just proud of the forge’s reputation and for the quality of her designs. She really did have a knack for filigree. Her last project even sold to a noble much like this elf. But he did not have to go spouting it off at every opportunity. “Together, ya can see the outcome for yerself,” he continued, his voice biting into her thoughts as he smiled fondly over at her. She huffed as she always did when he started in like this and went back to diligently but unsuccessfully trying to hide that she was eavesdropping. Sweeping up a few more links she pushed them off into the bucket.

  “And what of your unique, enchantments? Is she skilled at that as well?” His eyes flashed the blue energy once more, raising a curious quirk of his eyebrows. She froze, the weapons and armor of the Silverlight Smithy were well known for their unique properties not found anywhere else and could not be duplicated by any other enchanter. How they were made was a closely guarded family secret. Could her brother have told this noble? Did her brother even know the secret? She chewed at her bottom lip and forced her mind to stop its downward spiral of questions. Her uncle’s response coming quick, interrupting her thoughts. His voice had an edge of caution to it.

  “I cannot say my lord. Ya have not declared what yer intended weapon will be. I also will not be telling ya how we work enchantments without a mage. The items I have on display is proof that we can make quality arms and armor with significantly powerful enchantment.” His voice turning firm, the tone final as he met the elf’s faintly glowing gaze. Beka took in a breath as the room seemed to chill under the elf’s imperious gaze.

  “Fine. What enchantments do you offer then master smith?” He raised an eyebrow, eyes still glinting with annoyance and glowing brightly.

  “I can't say that either my lord.” Beka’s uncle kept his gaze locked with the noble, gauging the elf’s reactions to what he was saying. “The enchantments we create are based on the weapon or armor itself. My family calls the craft The will of the forge. When it comes to armor, the will has only one purpose, to protect the one who wears it. My armor enchantments are nearly always to repel, to push away harm, to protect. With weapons, well...” rubbing his chin his eyes met hers. Beka slid closer to the counter, coming up behind a display shelf of small knives to watch the exchange. The elf nodded and he gestured for the smith to continue, still clearly annoyed. “With weapons my lord, the will of the forge is unique to each weapon. You see a weapon can kill, but it can defend as well. They can be used as weapons of war, or simple tools for hunters. Can be ceremonial or practical. Elaborate or simple in design. The enchantment I can offer will be exactly what the weapon calls for, whatever the will of the weapon may be.” He leveled his gaze on the elf. “And that's all I will say about it my lord.”

  “Very well then Master smith, keep your secrets.” He waved his hand in the air dismissively. “I require a weapon for my champion, as I said before, the girl’s brother. I trust you know your kin’s preference for spears? It's not the weapon I would choose for this tournament, but the boy seems skilled.” She rolled her eyes as Montgomery chuckled under his breath. The tension in the smith’s rigid stance easing as the topic drifted into more comfortable territory.

  “The boy, as ya say has spent the last seventy years mastering the weapon in the alignment tournaments and fifty of those years as a spearman in the Kingsguard. He joined the army with my father, earned honors from the king himself in the Primals’ uprisings. Now he serves as one of the elite honor guard for the king himself, just like his father. Ya should know all that already my lord if yer going to be his patron this year.” He shook his head. “Yet still just a boy is he.”

  “Indeed. He is.” The noble’s matter-of-fact tone hung in the air uncomfortably. Beka shifted back and forth on her feet. The way the elf was staring down her uncle, it felt almost threatening. The noble’s eyebrows briefly coming together in a deep scowl before schooling himself back to neutrality.

  “Well, ahh, yes.” Montgomery coughed into the tension, rubbing the back of his neck. With an effort he changed the subject once more to less volatile topics. ”We can start the forging next week when the rains are more likely to let up. We can get the forge’s basin drained then. ” He hooked his thumb towards the back room of the smithy, indicating where the forge was. “Depending on the materials ya desire and what I have on hand, not to mention my back log on work orders leading up to the tourney. We can have the spear head done roughly three weeks, after the rain. We will have it attached to the haft with a finished edge, enchantment, and detail work done in just about a month from now. That's ahh, cutting it close for the tournament but it's possible.” She watched as he sketched out several notes on the cloth paper, drawing a rough design of a long spear head and marking down notations for width and length as he spoke.

  “I'll need it done closer to two weeks,” the elf declared, his tone giving the smith pause. Montgomery opened his mouth to respond but the elf cut him off. “In addition it needs to be forged from true silver.”

  “True silver!” Her uncle blurted out instead of what he was going to say. Beka gasped and bumped against the shelf, drawing the elf’s gaze once more her way. Her uncle sputtered a bit as he continued. “Why not call it by its more common name, Mythril! And then wish it into existence!” He shook his head, disbelieving what the elf was demanding. She had to agree with that sentiment. This was not a simple request, this weapon was going to need parts well beyond what they had available in the shop, especially on such short notice. “That's one hell of a rare metal! Expensive as well, seeing as it’s dwarven.” He rubbed his chin and looked to her, lifting an eyebrow. Part of her job as an apprentice was to keep inventory, she knew what he wanted. Holding up two fingers she shrugged and shook her head. ”We have a supplier in the city,” he continued, looking back to the elf. “I have at most two ingots on hand. A spear like yer requesting takes at least five, unless ya want an enchanted mythril spear head attached to a bloody stick of wood.” Montgomery grumbled and shook his head. This request was too much. She suspected the elf knew it too.

  “The cost does not matter. I will pay whatever the market price of the metal is as part of my order commision, if that will expedite the process.” The elf withdrew from a cloth pouch on his side, a carved wooden box a little over a foot long and half as wide. “In addition, I want the filigree made with this.” Opening the box he leaned it towards her uncle before turning it to show her as well. Inside was a single thin ingot of red gold metal, only eight inches long, two inches wide, and one inch thick resting on a cushion of light green silk cloth. Her uncle gasped and took a step back, dropping the pencil he held on the floor. Beka felt her face scrunch and she glanced between her uncle and the glimmering metal, confused as to his reaction.

  “Bloody hell, is that etherium!” The smith’s shocked expression turned to concern a heartbeat later. “That had better be refined my lord or ya just killed us all!” Her confusion vanished, fear and panic replacing it as she stepped away from the shelving she was leaning on. Bumping into the row behind her and sending a small dagger clattering to the floor, she turned to catch her uncle’s worried eyes meeting with hers before he con
tinued to speak. “That ore is dangerous, poisonous to even dragons if not refined proper!” He looked to say more but the elf let out a high unnerving laugh and set the box on the counter, wiping a finger along his eye as if drying a tear.

  “I assure you master smith it is refined to the greatest degree possible. By the etherium smiths of my home land.” The smug look on the elf's face at seeing their startled reaction only irritated her more. Uncle Montgomery's mustache bristled and twitched with his own displeasure.

  “Why not have them craft your bloody weapon then.” He said, his voice sounding a bit too aggressive. Her uncle was never like this with customers. He was known for his friendly if a bit rough sense of humor with the locals and polite professional demeanor with visitors from off world. There was something about this elf that made him easy to dislike however. Her uncle grumbled as he stooped to retrieve the pencil. With him distracted she moved back forward and hopped onto the lower shelf of the display she had been lurking behind. Knowing the odd metal her uncle called etherium was refined left her fear drifting away into an odd mixture of foreboding and excitement. She craned her neck over the top shelf in an effort to see the mystical metal. But as her uncle stood once more he gave her the evil eye for standing on the display. She dropped off with a huff. Etherium was legendary, refined etherium doubly so. She wanted to get a better look at it, to hold it, rub her face on it, well perhaps not that last part, but it still crossed her mind. She would never get a chance to see the priceless metal again, and he wanted it used as filigree! She was guaranteed to get to work with it. Beka bit her bottom lip and hoped her uncle took the order, despite the elf’s demeanor and his unreasonable expectations.

  “As I said, I need it done in two weeks’ time. I cannot wait for the gate to open to get the weapon started. It will be vital for my champion’s success in this last great tournament. I will not allow subpar equipment.” He paused and held the smith’s gaze as he spoke louder, pointedly turning in her direction instead. “Surely you wish to see your brother win do you not?” Beka came around the display and up to the end of the counter, her gaze flicking between the two of them a moment before answering.

  “Of, of course my lord. It’s just that we already have so many work orders, and the rain...” Her voice trailed off as she looked to her uncle. He had a long frown on his face, making his leathery tanned skin look even older as he busily marked down lengths for the spear handle and a sketch of a braid. She felt a smile creep onto her lips. He was going to take the order. The opportunity was a once in a lifetime deal. His honor as a master smith would not let him miss the chance to forge a legendary weapon. She returned her gaze to the elf and continued. “The rain has flooded the forge basin, we can't get the fires lit until after the rain stops. Even if we could start today, my uncle...”

  “Even if we started today my lord,” He cut in, looking up from his work, “We would still only have it for ya in no sooner than three weeks time. I'm afraid the shop is in high demand this close to the tournament and we have a waiting list on orders already.” He shook his head and sighed. “I will take the order but if it's mythril, or true silver as ya call it. It may take even longer. True Silver is hard to work with and takes more than normal to lay our enchantments given its already magical nature.” He looked down at his sketch, eyes coming alight with inspiration. “I will admit the strength of this weapon will be unlike any other. Legendary even.” Beka smiled, she was right. He could not resist.

  “Fine, very well.” The elf waved his hand dismissively again. “You’re the smiths not I, but I insist you work on my project as a priority.” With that he withdrew a slip of paper from his side, presenting it to Montgomery. “You can send me the supplier’s bill of sale once you have the materials, as I said I will reimburse the cost. This is a writ for 500 gold pieces, signed to be presented at the guild bank of Cross for an equal payment in gold or silver at your discretion. As I understand, this is at least double what your normal weapons sell for?” The elf's eyebrow raised with a smug expression and equally venomous tone of voice.

  “It is, indeed my lord. This offer is quite generous.” Montgomery swallowed hard and glanced over to her. She was surprised and honestly feeling a little overwhelmed but eager nonetheless for the task. That amount of gold would set the shop right for half the year. She knew she was grinning like a fool but did not care. Turning to beam at the elf who only twitched his eyebrow at her as she glanced at the writ in his hand.

  “And the time it will take?” The elf said, still looking at her as he held out the slip, offering it to Montgomery. Her uncle reached for writ only to have the mage pull it back before he could grasp it. “I trust this will give my order priority?”

  “Yes my lord, I'll give yer order priority.” The smith’s eye twitched at the elf's gesture before his voice dipped in defeat. “The time will remain nearly the same, I cannot bend the will of the forge or stop the rains any faster than that.”

  “I will see you then in no more than three weeks, master smith.” Once again presenting the writ to the man. Nodding his head, the smith took it and picked up his cloak. Offering it back to the elf. With a flourish that sprayed the room with tiny drops of water the noble draped it around his shoulders. Beka flinched and squeaked as she was hit by the spray. Taking a step away from the man, she opened her mouth and held her arms out to her sides in shock as she met his gaze. He smiled far too wide for his face, his eyes alighting with a flicker of blue energy. He did that on purpose! “It has been a pleasure, I look forward to seeing your work young miss, and remember this etherium reacts very strongly to magic, it will be interesting to see what you can do with it.” Without another word he moved across the room with long and purposeful strides. The sound of heavy rain rushing into the store with a gust of damp summer wind, as he left the shop.

  The room grew quiet as the door swung closed, his tall, thin, form disappearing almost instantly in the rain.

  “That guy seriously gave me the creeps.” She shivered and clutched her sides. “What was with that guy? “

  “He's a Mage, odd bunch the lot of em, even yer mother is bit of an odd duck if I'm to be honest” He chuckled, his lighthearted jab clearly an attempt to break the tension in the room. Beka stuck her tongue out at him. “He's from Septa, a high elf ta boot. That makes him doubly odd. I wonder if he's the king's emissary, I don't recall a Kindredstar coming over when yer mother left. But the name’s familiar.”

  “Do you think that's why he said ‘last great tournament,’ because he knows my mother is planning on returning?” She spun the box of etherium around on the counter to take a better look at it. The red gold ore was darker than she first thought, nearly the color of her hair.

  “Likely he will be returning home if yer mother stays, then yes. So last tournament before he has to go back. Might have wanted to honor yer mother by choosing her son as his champion. But I don't think that’s it, he doesn't seem the type to me.” He rubbed his chin, his brow wrinkled in thought.

  She leaned against the old wood counter and grinned, her focus turning to the etherium. Beka had heard so many stories of etherium of course, every smith worth their hammer knew about the legendary ore from the Lands of Arcadia, on Cross's sister world of Septa. She never thought she would see any more than a flake of it, much less an entire ingot. Montgomery continued to rub his chin in thought, his hand moving to make a few extra notes along the edge of his paper before he turned his gaze back to her.

  “I have to admit girl, I am looking forward to see what we can get out of this etherium. I have used it once before you know.” She glanced up to him, surprised she had not know that. “Me and yer Father used a bit of it on a weapon for your mother just before ya were born. It’s likely how that elf knew to come here, yer mom said she gave it to someone from the Arcadia school of magic as a gift, part of how she got picked for the emissary position.” Beka bounced on her toes, clutching the counter with what must have been a stupid grin on her face as her excitement
continued to ramp up. “I would have turned down the noble under normal circumstances ya know.” She nodded along knowing he was bluffing, despite his tone and serious expression. She knew he was as bad as she was when it came to rare ores and once in a lifetime chances. He just had years of losing money at the tavern to work on his poker face. Beka grinned at him and nodded in obvious mock agreement, her excitement making him roll his eyes as he continued. ”If it's true this weapon is for yer brother I'll make an exception, this ore is simply too powerful to give to just anyone.” Her grin was making her cheeks hurt as she glanced between the ingot and her Uncle. He laughed. Her excitement had finally become contagious, and the old smith cracked a smile as he swiped the ingot off the counter and into a work order crate. “Don't get too far ahead of yerself girl. Ya still have to finish that chain shirt.”

  “Uncle!” She protested and stomped her foot. “The creepy bastard practically demanded that I do the filigree on the weapon, I'm not going to waste my time on that stupid shirt! At least let me hold onto the etherium!” He paused and looked to be considering something before he shook his head, pulling open the door to the forge room and calling back to her as he stepped inside.

  “Don't ya go talking that rot about a noble. That sort of talk in the wrong circles, the circles that elf bastard belongs I should remind ya, will see ya hanging from yer scrawny neck. Besides girl I have to keep ya busy while I'm gone.” The sounds of wood shifting across stone echoed up to the counter. She wondered which of the stone safes he hid in the back room for just these sorts of things he was stuffing that ingot into, perhaps she would have to go investigate once he left. ”I'm going to head to Marcus's Imports on the far side of town. Yer right we only have two ingots of true silver and we need what, 3 more 4 to be safe to work the spear? If I can get enough mythril from Marcus to start this bloody project, perhaps we can keep that creepy bastard from dropping back in for another visit.” He stepped from the back room holding a thick leather oilskin cloak.