by Demetri Grim
“Bloody Hell!” She cried out as the fires licked at the ceiling. “Uncle are you okay!”
“Watch yer mouth girl! Im fine.” He grunted. “Thats why I had it on the tongs still.” He lifted the blade over the anvil, the edge flickering with a sheen of fire. The smith leaned in and gave a heavy puff of breath, the fire flickering out.
She stared at the spear a moment, unsure if what she was seeing was true. The once shining silver blade of the weapon was now a gleaming metallic crimson, reflecting in the forge’s pale white light. The filigree of the spear standing out as bright gold against the glinting red metal. The color of the blade seeped into the twisted lengths of the weapon’s silver shaft like veins, running the full length of the weapon’s handle and ending in the now-bright red metallic ring.
“It, it turned red, just like you said it would!” Beka said softly, her voice caught in her throat, overwhelmed by the change. “My filigree! It turned gold!” She blinked a few times and turned to grin brightly up at her Uncle. “This is so amazing!” She bounced up and down and squealed, feeling like she wanted to bounce out of her skin in excitement. Her uncle returned her grin and chuckled good-naturedly at her antics.
“That's why etherium is sometimes called red gold. Not just for how valuable it is, or the off-gold color it had before, but when done right it becomes this.” He gestured to the blade and its glinting gold filigree. ”We’re not done yet girl. Time to set the enchantment, and see what the will of the forge will be for this bloody spear.”
Chapter 6: Silverlight
Beka eyed the glinting red blade of the spear, tracing the blood-like veins coursing down the length. The flickering blue white flame of the forge giving the spear a truly sinister look. She had no doubt the spear was already immensely powerful without an enchantment.
“Bloody is right Uncle, the pattern of etherium down the shaft looks like veins, it's like the spear is alive.” She ran her finger along the crimson vein of the still very warm shaft. Her heart instantly began racing, her mind becoming hyper aware, the same thing that happened to her when handling the etherium wire only so much more intense. Pulling her hand away with a flinch. Her breaths coming out in shuddering gasps for a moment as she calmed herself. She was not expecting such a strong reaction, not even the raw etherium hit her that hard. Her eyes flicked up to her uncle, his face set in a concerned frown. She smiled as her breath calmed. “Hot still!” She stuck her finger in her mouth. She hoped hiding her reaction behind a more obvious reason would quell his concern.
“Aye, but ya knew that already.” He rolled his eyes letting her off the hook, before gesturing to the anvil. “Move the box and grab this.” He held out the wool cloth in his hand before setting the spear atop the anvil.
Taking the wool cloth she hesitantly rested her hand along the shaft of the weapon. Her shoulders relaxed from the tension she had not even realized she was holding onto. Her heart sped up only a little as the numb sensation crept into her palm. Like her gloves the wool cloth stopped the worst of the etherium’s effect on her, but the tingling sensation was creeping along her arm much faster than before. She would not be able to hold onto the spear for long before her uncle would notice. Sucking in a breath of hot air she tried to push back on the spreading sensation, and to her surprise it stopped. The pins and needles prickled around her forearm but moved no farther. She blinked, perhaps in this new state the etherium was more controlled. It certainly no longer looked like the same metal as before.
“Okay Uncle. I think I should be good now.” Beka said, her eyes moving to the crested silver box near the anvil. Watching as her uncle withdrew the elaborate hammer from within.
“I don't know what the enchantment will bring to this. So far everything has gone the same as the last time I worked with this stuff. I may have been overly cautious.” He was holding the hammer reverently in both hands as he approached the anvil. “ I do know true silver, takes more effort for the enchantment to take hold, and etherium should empower the enchantment. Can't say if that will make it harder or easier for me to place it on the true silver. Hell I have no idea if this metal even is still true silver any more.” He carefully set the hammer next to the spear and ran his hands over both. Taking a deep breath as he prepared for the coming work.
She had seen her uncle do this before, center himself with long breaths. She knew the secret of the Silverlight Forge’s enchantments relied upon it. The hammer held the magic, not her family. The simple silver and gold smithing hammer. It was what placed the exotic enchantments upon their weapons and armor. She also knew the terrible price the enchantment cost firsthand, the toll that the hammer took to make its magic work. One day of life, for every weapon and armor forged with it.
The enchanted hammer was the reason her father was no longer in her life, why he aged and died when she was still very young. She hated the hammer, and was amazed by it. It was a part of her family legacy, central to the heart of her family's history. Six generations of smiths had given their life to the hammer. Yet Beka was not yet allowed to use the hammer herself. Her uncle insisted her will needed to be stronger, her focus sharper before it would be time for her to learn its use. She still did not understand what he meant by that, but she would wait until he felt she was ready. It was her duty as the family's heir to learn its use, though she was in no hurry to do so. She bit her lip and tucked the strand of hair that had once again fallen free of her ponytail behind her ear. If she was to keep the family smithy open when her uncle joined her father, she would need to accept the price the mystical hammer demanded. Perhaps as an Elf-kin the cost would not be so dire. She certainly had much more life to give.
“Lets begin girl, the blade is cool enough now.” He took up the hammer and with a deep breath spoke the words to awaken the hammer’s magic. “Awaken, take yer toll, one day to be paid in full.” With the words spoken the hammer glinted and flashed, a symbol matching the hammer’s filigree of silver and gold light formed in the air in front of him. A pulse of energy rippled throughout the forge, making the flames nearby flicker and crackle angrily. A silver glow rising from him in wisps. The lines of energy from his aura forming into a set of runes that hovered in the air in front of him signaling the activation of the tool. They flickered and faded out of sight a moment latter, a safeguard of the hammer to keep its secrets. Lifting his hand to what must have been one of the floating runes he pressed his palm forward. A rune flickering into sight for a moment before vanishing. The silver glow around his body began to pulse and flow, moving out from his chest and down along his arms, coiling around the hammer’s hilt.
She watched as the light grew steadily brighter as she watched, fascinated by the flowing silver energy. Her mother had explained once that the silver glow was aura. That all living things have an aura, the color of the aura was considered a sign of a person's character. Mages use aura to power their spell arrays and see the words of magic. Seers and Mystics could read in an aura color, strength, and condition If you were sick, in love, or depressed. Even what magics you would be best at if you were a mage, as well as which magics you might be more susceptible to. When Beka was younger, before she was allowed inside the forge, she had figured reading auras was just a trick for fortune tellers and street magicians to make money. There were always dozens of them at the tournament and festivals, all claiming they could tell you who your true love is, or if you were destined for greatness by the color of your aura alone. She had been wrong, aura and the power within living things was very real. The silver aura of her family fueled the enchanted hammer. Their life force gave every weapon and armor in the Silverlight Smithy the unique silver shine and unreplicated enchantments.
Absently she wondered what her aura looked like, was it different because of her elvin blood or her mother's magic? She would find out eventually. Perhaps sooner than she thought if this weapon was a success. Perhaps her uncle would let her make a small dagger with the hammer after this, like the one her mother had. She might even convince
him to let her use the tiny twine of etherium that was left. She smiled thinking about what she would call it if it turned red, Blood Fang, or Crimson Poker, or perhaps…
“Focus girl! Now is not the time to be day dreaming!” Her uncle’s voice broke her out of her fantasy. The glow around his body was beginning to spiral and move even faster. Silver wisps of light swirling down the arm holding the hammer. His aura being transferred into the tool.
“Sorry Uncle.” She smiled sheepishly as her focus came back to the task at hand. His aura was almost finished collecting around the end of the hammer now. The flow of light fading away from his body, a sphere of writhing silver mist spinning around the hammerhead. A silver sigil appearing a few inches away from the hammer’s flat side and the mist coalesced into it making it appear solid, signaling it was ready. The rune sigil looked at first glance to be the mark that meant weapon in the runic script but was slightly off from normal. Before she could make out the difference it faded from her view just as the other sigils had.
“Hold it steady, the first strike may not take. If it doesn't yer going to have to flip the blade over quickly to keep the strikes even until the hammer does its work.” With that he lifted the hammer, a trail of silver light following in its wake before it came slamming down hard into the weapon. The silver energy rushing from the tip of the hammer and wrapping around the weapon, the aura of silver light coiling and writhing like misty snakes down the length of the crimson blade. Dozens of smaller runes flaired to life surrounding the weapon’s blade before fading, leaving only a silver aura. Her uncle’s energy transferring from the hammer to the blade. “It held! damn! That was quick!” He said tapping the hammer twice on the anvil before taking another heavy swing. This time the hammer stopped an inch away from the blade, contacting the glowing aura as if it was metal. The area around the hammer strike flickered and shifted. With a flash of light a rune appeared and then blinked away with a spark. The aura shifted and grew brighter, settling lower to the blade.
The hammer strike sent a pulse of power down the shaft of the weapon and into her arm. The numb tingling sensation slowly creeping higher again. She shifted her feet to brace herself, concentrating on keeping the sensation at bay and her heart calm. But every strike made the tingling jump farther and farther up her arm, soon it filled her chest and she felt her focus become unnaturally sharper. Her heart racing as her chest went numb. The hammer strikes making her ears ring more than ever before. The silver aura pressing closer and closer to the blade, her uncle keeping a steady tap, tap, bang, rhythm. Working the aura as if he was working hot steel. Each strike forcing the silver mist lower and lower. She groaned as she saw the aura lift away from the blade rather than lower. Her body trembling as she fought against the effects threatening to overcome her willpower.
“It's still not touching Uncle, in fact I just saw the aura push away.“ Her voice sounded stilted and odd to her ears.
“I was afraid of that. The metal is resisting the aura. Mythril has some magic to it already, and now it's even stronger with the etherium. The metals magic is keeping the aura away.“ He took a ragged breath and wiped his arm across his forehead. The strain of laying this enchantment must be much worse than she thought.
“What can we do?” She asked as he continued to strike the aura, sweat dripping from his brow, his skin taking on a pallor despite the heat, his arm shaking slightly as he nearly missed a hammer strike. The rune under the strike flickered and didn't spark away —instead it fizzled, turned black and crumbled like ash. “ Uncle! Are you alright?” In her worry she shifted to move closer to him, and her movement caused the hammer strike to miss the spear entirely, clanging hard onto the anvil.
“Damn it Girl! Don't move!” he shouted, panting hard and lifting the hammer from the anvil with a heave. A glint of light spiraling around his hand, down the length of the hammer and fizzling against the anvil’s top.
“Uncle! Why is the hammer pulling more aura from you!” She wanted to step closer or pull the spear away but knew it would only make the situation worse. The fact the hammer was still leeching energy from him worried her. The hammer never continued to pull power as far as she knew. If she moved again and he missed another strike what would happen, would the enchantment unravel? Would he have to spend another day of his life to finish the blade or would the blade never be finished, all of their efforts wasted? Beka stood firm, resolving herself to making sure the spear was braced with both hands, her heart leaping into a chaotic almost painful rhythm within her chest. "To hell with whatever this metal is doing to me, we have to finish this or that creep elf will have our hide.” Beka muttered under her breath. Looking up at her uncle, her brows furrowed together in concern. His arms were shaking even worse now after his missed strike, and his legs trembled, threatening to give out. The silver light of his aura nothing more than a faint sheen around his hand. “Uncle You need to stop, it’s pulling to much from you!”
“Nonsense girl!” He huffed and struck the aura again, another rune sparking away. ”The hammer always pulls from ya, it's why we have to do this quick! Now stop pestering!” His strike landed a little softer this time and he wavered on his heels. Nearly tipping forward he caught himself on the anvil. "This is going to be a close one girl.”
“Uncle! let me help!” She reached out a hand for the hammer, her eyes begging him.
“ Ya can't! Ya don't have the will to keep yer aura from just rushing out of ya! It's too soon for ya, and not with this beastly blade.” He stood once more and continued his hammering strikes.
“Please Uncle!” Beka protested. He just ignored her. The hammer blows returning to the rhythmic tap, tap, bang.
She watched him work for several more minutes, her hyper-focus not letting her do anything else. Keen eyes taking in every detail as his skin seemed to turn an ashen grey and his eyes sunk into dark rings as if he had not slept for many nights. She realised she had seen that look many times in her life. In the past she always assumed he had just been kept up late on projects or drank to much at the tavern. Now she suspected it was because of this accursed hammer. Turned her gaze to the shining silver hammer and the flickering runes formed by his strikes, she scrunched her nose in disgust. Why had she chosen to match the spear’s filigree to this foul thing. Just because it was a family weapon why would anyone want the reminder that it worked its miraculous enchantments at the cost of the smith’s own life. One day of life for every weapon forged did not seem like much but she knew it added up. Somehow she knew this crimson blade was demanding an even higher price. Would the spear take the life from the wielder every time it was used just as the hammer does? Her thoughts came to a sudden end when a hammer strike finally connected the silver aura to the blade with an explosion of light, a single sigil forming along the blade followed by an ear-splitting ring as if the blade itself was screaming. The sigil sparked and vanished, the blade taking on a shine as the hammer touched the metal at last.
A rush of silver mist erupted from her uncle. The blade drinking in the energy as the hammer rested directly upon the red metal. The mirror polish of light spreading out over the crimson blade from the contact as more and more wisps of light spiraled down his arm. He trembled frozen in place, his back ridged and eyes wide, grinding his teeth together. Without thinking she released the spear, now wedged between the anvil and the hammer. Beka slipped under the spear to the other side of the anvil throwing all her weight hard into his arm trying to knock the hammer free.
As it slid from the wailing blade the flood of light ended and he collapsed like a puppet that had its strings cut. Rasping and coughing he slowly came back to his senses. Trembling still as he tried and failed to rise back to his feet, his eyes were casting about in a haze of confusion. She knelt by him, seeing his eyes focus on her before she looked back to the spear. They had worked so hard to create it but now all she wanted was to toss the spear back into the forge and melt the evil thing down. Her uncle’s hand came to her, and as he turned her to meet his ey
es, she froze. For a moment his eyes darted between her and the spear resting atop the anvil. The silver glow of the blade not yet finished, the aura starting to drift away from the blade in tiny wisps of light. The enchantment peeling away from where the mirror shine had not yet touched. His eyes were conflicted and he closed them slowly. With a pained grimace he nodded to her. His was breath weak and he struggled to speak, coughing once more as he fell backwards. “Uncle! Don't try to speak, its ok. We tried, the spear is too much, we never should have taken this order. I'm sorry I use the hammer’s crest on it, I think it's only making things worse!” Tears were starting to fall from her eyes. He lifted his hand from her arm and brushed a calloused finger across her cheek, raising the hammer still clenched in his hand towards her.
“No, I’m sorry, we have to finish it, please Beka.” He smiled weakly at her.
“I don't care about the damn spear Uncle! We need to stop! I made a mistake, I..I should never have used that design! I should have...” She sniffed back her tears and clung to his hand.
“Shush girl, ya did good with the design. We’re almost finished, I will be okay. Take the hammer, this is in yer blood, ya can finish it. I know ya can, always known ya could.” He tried to smile, his mustache turning completely white right before her eyes. It twitched with a half smirk. He pushed the hammer into her hands. “Follow the runes, forge a weapon, let it guide ya. Keep yer focus, don't let it take too much.” His voice faltering and becoming quieter with each breath, eyes rolling into his skull. He collapsed backwards with a ragged exhale, the hammer falling free of his grip.
Resting her head atop his chest Beka felt the slow rise and fall of his breath and the soft thump of his heart. She sighed in relief and clutched the hammer to her own chest. Turning back to the anvil. The shine of the forge light reflecting off the blade creating an evil red glow. Wisps of silver slowly floated away from it. The mirror shine of the enchantment fading with every moment she hesitated.