She paused a moment, then continued. ‘The only magic more significant is elemental magic. It is the foundation upon which all other magic rests. There are four: earth, air, water, and fire. And these powers reside in some men and women; there are mortals who can read history in the stones, or hear messages in the wind, and others who can travel wherever water flows. That boy, Hatu, is a living embodiment of fire. There is no magic more primal or more powerful.
‘The fire magic given to the Firemanes was ancient, invested in the first Firemane, before his line became royal, even before history, and it was formidable. That magic was the reason that Ithrace became the pinnacle of creativity. Its power was spread among the children and grandchildren and became a force to shape and guide their family and then their nation.’ She squeezed Zusara’s hand again and stared into his eyes. ‘Generations of Firemanes have had this gift.’
‘What do we need to do?’ Zusara asked.
‘Of the elemental magics, fire is the most creative and destructive. Occasionally the ground shakes, but earth by nature is a quiet, slow-changing thing. Water flows and alters, but if there is no flood, storm, or fall, it is not violent. It etches the rocks and shifts landscapes; it is not as slow as earth, but it is unrelenting and steady.
‘Air is unpredictable, changeable, and fickle but it is rarely violent enough to cause great havoc. Like water, it can cause storms, and given enough time, erode rock, but it is usually gentle. It is everywhere, and for those who know how to listen, air speaks.
‘But fire …’ She shook her head. ‘Generations of Firemanes have held that magic within them, and they have gifted the world with creativity, originality, and ingenuity. They were considered the most handsome of people, the women were exquisitely beautiful, and all had talent for singing, music, dance, and art. Their power was largely passive, giving light and warmth, but it was always there, always providing benefit to the family and the nation.
‘Now all of that power has been returned to one boy, and it burns in him like an ember waiting to ignite, a sleeping anger that could burst forth at any time. It was forced into him by bloody murder and hate. It is now a thing to be feared.’
‘The curse?’
‘You treat it as a folktale, an old story without meaning. Should the last of the Firemanes perish …’ She smiled at him. ‘This is not “cursed” like a gambler who has lost too many games, or a man who has an accident because a one-eyed dog barked at him or a hawk circled his barn, or any of the other superstitious nonsense the common folk believe. Do you know the price of ending the Firemane line?’
Zusara said, ‘No.’
‘That bad things will befall us is all that is known by most. But here is a truth: either put that child somewhere safe, let him marry and father many, many children, so that that magic will again be spread among many …’
Zusara said, ‘Or?’
She stared at him for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe he’d asked that question, then said, ‘Or you must kill him, of course. The fire magic will disperse and find another vessel. It may be generations before its power achieves this level of focus, but it will make the rest of this world safer for the time being. For if he gains control of that power, we should fear him. If he lives, he might destroy all of us.’
‘How?’ he whispered.
‘Only the gods know.’ She looked at Zusara, shook her head slightly and said, ‘Even they might not know what will happen when a foundation magic is in the control of one man.’
Zusara was silent for a long time, then squeezed Lorana’s hand affectionately and departed without speaking another word.
• CHAPTER SEVENTEEN •
Unexpected Bounty and Sudden Danger
Declan twisted the blank while he watched Jusan hammer.
The youngster was thriving in the new forge and might end up as a better smith than Declan and Edvalt had predicted. Declan wondered how much of that had been due to his own presence as Edvalt’s journeyman, overshadowing Jusan’s ability, or just Jusan’s maturing and taking the craft more seriously now.
‘Good, good,’ Declan said as Jusan knocked the blank into its first sword shape; they had worked together long enough that words were hardly necessary, and he knew just when the boy needed him to turn the iron blank. Jusan nodded and Declan held it still while his apprentice put down the hammer and picked up a bucket of water to quench the metal and prepare it for the second shaping.
‘You did well,’ Declan said as hissing steam rose from the still-hot bar. ‘Your folds are better now. Your shaping is quicker than before.’ He set the rapidly cooling metal down on the anvil and said, ‘Keep this up and you’ll be a journeyman soon.’
Jusan returned Declan’s smile. ‘I watched what Edvalt taught you as well as practising what he required of me, but as your apprentice …’ He shrugged. ‘I get to do more than haul coal … and berries.’ They both laughed. ‘Sweeping, shovelling, all the rest is the same as in Oncon, but here I’m the other pair of hands on the real work.’
Declan laughed. ‘Should you stay after I name you journey-man, a new apprentice may have to endure the same by being behind you.’
Jusan’s expression turned serious, his soot-smeared face wrinkled in thought. ‘Do I have the makings of a master?’
Declan tilted his head a bit and shrugged slightly as he said, ‘Fair question. I’ll know better when I name you journeyman. I’ll not mislead you, Jusan. If you do have the makings of a master smith, you’ll stay on; if you don’t, I’ll kick you out, so you can find a better teacher or start your own forge. Many smiths have a good life without reaching the rank of master. But I think it’s more likely now that you’re working all the time than it was back in Oncon.’
Jusan let out the long breath he’d been holding in during Declan’s answer. ‘Fair enough. It’s just that you made it look easy for all those years.’
‘I didn’t realise,’ said Declan. ‘But to be plain, you know enough for me to leave you in charge when I deliver these swords to Baron Rodrigo, or travel to buy iron …’ Jusan smiled at that and Declan shared his pleasure. ‘Come, let’s get cleaned up and go have an ale.’
Jusan laughed. ‘You mean let’s clean up and go see Gwen.’ Declan’s face reddened a little, so he said, ‘You go and I’ll finish up here. I’ll join you after, so you can have some time alone with her, pretending you’re just there for an ale.’
Declan said, ‘Thank you. Now if I can just keep her father from insisting that I drink whisky …’
‘It’s grown on me,’ said Jusan, and he set aside the still-cooling blank and judged the need for banking the coals. ‘Though a little definitely goes a long way, and if you drink too much you pay a right large price the next morning, I found out soon enough.’
‘That’s why I’ll stay with ale,’ said Declan, crossing to a large barrel of water that doubled as a supply for drinking and, at the end of the day, scrubbing face and hands. Jusan would empty it tonight after he washed up and refill it in the morning.
Declan quickly cleaned up as best he could and with a wave to Jusan set out to the Inn of the Three Stars. He had been in Beran’s Hill a month now, his success guaranteed by the unexpected arrival of the Baron of the Copper Hills three days after Declan had agreed to buy the forge.
Baron Rodrigo was sufficiently impressed with the sword Declan had to show him that after a little haggling Declan found himself with enough gold for provisions, for a down payment on the iron they needed, and to pay others to fix the forge so he and Jusan could focus on making the weapons. With the balance paid upon receipt of the weapons, he would own the smithy at least two years sooner than planned. Life was turning out to be better than he had imagined back in Oncon.
Reaching the door to the inn, he hesitated and willed himself not to look anxious. It was in Declan’s nature to keep things deep within him, as Edvalt had concluded not long ago. He knew it was becoming something of a joke among those he had come to know since his arrival in Beran’s
Hill that Gwen had already staked a claim on him, and some perversity within caused him to rebel against that. Declan needed to seem in charge of his life, despite the fact that he was smitten with the bright girl on the other side of that door, and had no answer as to why. He just wanted to do things in his own time.
The young master smith stepped inside and found a few familiar faces as well as a group of strangers settling at a corner table, travellers from the look of them. The Three Stars wasn’t the best inn, but it was situated just off the southern entrance to the town and was often the first stop for travellers arriving from Marquenet. Location had proved to be of critical importance to Leon’s success and while hardly a place of luxury accommodation, the inn was serviceable and provided better-than-average food and drink.
Reaching the bar, Declan nodded to Leon, who immediately pulled out a stoppered bottle. Declan held up his hand. ‘Early morning tomorrow, just an ale.’
Leon fixed a narrow gaze on the young smith for a second, then shrugged. ‘So be it,’ he said, mildly amused, and drew a large jack of ale from the barrel behind him.
Declan glanced around the room and when Leon placed the ale before him, the innkeeper said, ‘She’s in the kitchen.’
Declan tried to act as if he hadn’t been looking for Gwen but knew better than to say anything, as Leon would only escalate his teasing. Barely two nights passed that he wasn’t at the inn, and if it was quiet he’d spend all night talking with Gwen.
Three times they had stayed up after Leon had closed, and Declan was now certain she would sleep with him willingly if he pressed her, but as much as he desired Gwen, he also knew that there was no hope of its being a casual dalliance. She wasn’t the sort of woman to lie with any man; having sex would be as good as a marriage proposal, and although he was coming to see it as inevitable, Declan wasn’t ready to surrender the illusion of having some say in the matter. He wanted to take the step and make her his wife, but … something also held him back.
After he’d drunk half the ale, the door to the kitchen swung open and Gwen emerged holding a large tray. Another girl followed her, one Declan didn’t recognise, awkwardly holding a smaller tray and concentrating on not spilling it. She was very slender, even a little underfed, and as she glanced in his direction, he saw she was pretty: fair-skinned with dark hair and large blue eyes. And he realised that she was also very young, perhaps no older than fourteen or fifteen.
‘Who’s that?’ Declan asked Leon just as Gwen caught sight of Declan. She brightened visibly and smiled.
‘New girl,’ said Leon.
‘You need a second server?’
‘Will eventually,’ said Leon, fixing Declan with a narrow gaze. Declan had come to know this expression well since arriving in town; it was Leon’s suspicious expression. ‘One of these days, some smart fellow is going to come along and take my girl away.’ He paused, his lingering stare emphasizing his point. ‘That is, if someone smart enough to know a rare prize when he sees it shows up.’ He turned, pulled out a bar rag, and began sopping up spilled ale. ‘I’ll need someone to take her place.’
‘She’s barely more than a child,’ said Declan as he watched Gwen help the girl place food on the table before the travellers.
‘Her ma is having a baby soon, and without her man to provide, she can’t care for the extra mouth. So, I let her stay here so she can earn her keep.’ Lowering his voice he said, ‘And I let her take the leftovers home to her ma. She has three others younger than her.’
Declan shook his head. ‘Where’s her dad?’
‘Slavers took him a month or so before you got here. Bold bunch came in and out before the baron’s patrol arrived. Some of our lads tried to persuade them to chase the bastards, but the baron’s soldiers wouldn’t cross the border. I guess he’s on some slave block or serving in someone’s army by now.’
Declan had no words. During his short amount of travelling he had come to understand how safe and well-off he’d been in the Covenant until the slavers had shown up there, ‘That sort of thing happen much?’ he finally asked.
‘Not often enough for the baron to build a garrison up here,’ said Leon with a hint of bile in his tone. Seeing Declan’s slightly surprised reaction, he hastily added, ‘Don’t misunderstand me. Baron Daylon is a good ruler compared to most. Taxes aren’t impossible to pay, food is plentiful, and trade is brisk. When I first opened this inn, before Gwen was born, I’d be lucky to have two, three travellers a week stop in for a meal or drink. Now I get two or three a day and my rooms are full as many nights.
‘No,’ he said as if putting the matter to rest, ‘the baron’s a good man, but we could really use a garrison; the town’s grown big enough. It’s more than half an day’s ride to Esterly’s garrison, and a lot can happen in an hour.’ He shrugged. ‘We have no mayor or sheriff, just a local group who settle disputes, and the like, unofficially. It doesn’t do any good to call little things to the baron’s attention, you see?’
Declan nodded. He knew rough justice was better than none at all. Oncon was so small a village that almost all disputes were settled by consensus, and a few by who was left standing, but most were settled peaceably. Twice in his life he’d seen someone run from the village, to avoid losing their lives, so this sort of local justice wasn’t completely alien to him.
Gwen approached. ‘Declan,’ she said with a warm smile. She turned to the girl behind her and said, ‘This is Millie.’ The girl smiled shyly and nodded a greeting.
Declan gave her a cursory smile and then turned his attention to Gwen. ‘Busy, I see.’
‘Yes, very,’ she replied, then said, ‘I’ll stop for a visit when things calm down. Millie, come with me.’
Leon cleared his throat and Declan turned to see another ale waiting for him. ‘Appears you might be here for a bit.’
‘So it appears,’ echoed Declan. He felt a greater fool than ever before. Part of him knew that he was fated to be with Gwen, but he was stubborn enough to resent being told what to do, even though no one was telling him what to do, merely pointing out the obvious.
Feeling a rare moment of petulance, Declan tried to stop his gaze following Gwen around the room, but it was difficult. Their relationship was a poorly kept secret; it had become so obvious that Gwen had set her cap at the new smith that the other young men in town had stopped trying to court her. None of her previous suitors wished to find themselves facing an angry young man who looked like he could win a fight with anyone in Beran’s Hill. There was no such thing as a weak smith, and Declan carried himself in a way that communicated he might not have been eager to fight for Gwen, but he was willing.
Declan nursed his ale slowly, for despite being keen to spend time with Gwen, the morning would arrive no matter how little sleep he got. He planned to finish the order of weapons in two days’ time and deliver them to Baron Rodrigo’s holdfast within the week. He’d sent word to Ratigan that he’d need a large wagon and a team of four the day after he finished, and he also knew Ratigan would complain bitterly if they weren’t ready to depart on the day the short teamster arrived. Declan smiled to himself as he realised that despite his cross manner, Ratigan had become something of a friend and Declan actually looked forward to seeing him again.
Thinking about Ratigan took him back to their first journey, which in turn made Declan wonder about Roz. He’d had no word of her since leaving her with her husband to mend. He’d asked twice if passing shippers knew of her; one didn’t know her and the other only knew her by reputation. He wasn’t that surprised as Beran’s Hill was far off her normal shipping routes. Still, he wondered how she was doing.
Meeting Gwen had put Declan’s feelings in perspective. Roz was a wonderful woman who had taught him everything he knew about sex, but about honest feelings? No: he was learning about those from Gwen.
After half an hour, the room calmed down and Gwen came over, after instructing Millie on clearing tables. ‘How are you?’ she asked with a smile that once again made Declan fe
el both wonderful and nervous at the same time.
He couldn’t help but smile back as he said, ‘Well. Tired. Getting ready to haul a shipment up to Copper Hills.’
Her expression changed. ‘You’ll be gone a while, then?’ She looked worried.
‘A couple of weeks,’ he replied. ‘Jusan can take care of the smithy while I’m gone.’
‘Travellers warn of bandits lately,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm. ‘Be cautious.’
‘I will be,’ he said, pleased by her worry. ‘Ratigan is a tough enough’ – he was about to say bastard, then caught himself – ‘fellow, and I know my way around a blade. Besides, we’re only using unpatrolled roads for a day or so between here and the frontier. There’s a garrison at Middling Vale, then patrolled roads all the way through Kalar up to the border with Copper Hills.’ Declan had been told this by local merchants, so he hoped it reassured her. He did not want to incur the cost of hiring an additional guard, but if she pressed him on the matter, he probably would. He almost winced when he considered how much her good opinion meant to him.
Further discussion was interrupted by Jusan’s arrival. Gwen greeted him and then said, ‘I’ll fetch you an ale, and then I have to go see if that bunch in the corner needs another round.’
After she departed, Jusan smiled at his master and said, ‘Looks like you’re having an enjoyable ale.’
Declan feigned a disapproving look, then smiled and nodded. ‘Enjoyable enough.’
Gwen returned quickly and put an ale before Jusan, then hurried off to the group in the corner. Jusan glanced over his shoulder to see if Gwen was within earshot, then he said in a low voice, ‘I know you’re my master now, but we’ve known each other long enough for me to tell you plainly that you’re an idiot if you don’t do something soon.’
‘Do? About what?’
‘Are you really that slow? You’re as much my big brother as you are my master, Declan, but when it comes to Gwen you are a fool. She will not wait forever. Have you realised that other lads are starting to spend time around her when you’re not here?’
King of Ashes [Book One] Page 32