Aethersmith (Book 2)

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Aethersmith (Book 2) Page 10

by J. S. Morin


  “It would have been more kind to let another puzzle that one out, Faolen, but since you ask: yes. You are all familiar with Sir Brannis Solaran. His is the example you are following. With few allies in the present-day Empire, I turned to Sir Brannis to lead the army. I gave him four sorcerers and a decrepit garrison to defend against a host of goblins that was undercounted by nearly half. I consider the unexpected presence of the dragon and my intervention to roughly cancel one another when deciding how he handled that assignment; and let me assure you that without Sir Brannis, I would very likely not have survived facing that dragon. I have since given him almost entirely free rein within the Empire and I am confident that we are the better for it,” Rashan explained, gushing about the leader he had handpicked for his armies. “He is working on something remarkable, he tells me. I look forward to his surprise.”

  * * * * * * * *

  Celia strode down a dimly lit stone corridor in the lower levels of the palace. Ahead of her, Brannis strode purposefully along, trailing his cousin Danilaesis in his wake.

  He is making this hard on me intentionally! Celia thought. Danil can manage at a half run and has the energy to keep pace thus. He wants me to give up.

  His sword Avalanche bounced along at his hip, but Brannis wore no armor. Traveling about in the safety of the Imperial Palace, and not on any official business as far as she could gather, he had forgone his golden armor. She had always found him dashing and handsome in that armor, but she found she was enjoying seeing his body less obscured by metal as she trailed behind him, eyes drawn to his backside.

  “So it’s really done, Uncle Brannis?” Danilaesis asked eagerly, looking up at Brannis from close enough to trip him as they walked. Just seven summers old and the son of Brannis’s uncle, Caladris, Danil had apparently been involved in the little side project Brannis had been working on in secret. The boy was too smart for his own good (or anyone else’s), and stronger in aether than either Celia or Brannis had realized.

  “Yes. You just need to fill it one last time and it should hold aether on its own after that,” Brannis answered, then continued just loud enough to be heard: “If I got it right, anyway.”

  “So what is it that you have been sneaking off to do all season?” Celia demanded from a few paces behind them, struggling to keep up with the rapid pace of a long-legged knight and an energetic young lad while wearing formal robes and heeled slippers.

  “Since it is too late for anyone to find out now: making wedding gifts,” Brannis replied, not turning back to look.

  “You went to all that trouble to hide from me just to make gifts for Iridan and Juliana?” she asked. “Did you think I was going to spoil a surprise or something?”

  “No, not really. You barely know Iridan and if either you or Juliana ended up floating facedown in the sewers, I would suspect the other,” Brannis replied, stopping in the hall so that she could hear him clearly. “Mostly I wanted a bit of privacy and to prove I could slip free of your leash any time I wished.”

  “That’s not fair, Brannis,” Celia shot back, hurt by the implication.

  “I know that Rashan assigned you to keep me from causing trouble with the wedding. I had that figured as far back as Raynesdark. You are not bad company when we both manage to forget that, but I have an excellent memory in general,” Brannis said.

  “Except when you’re drunk,” Danilaesis piped up, interrupting the grown-ups’ conversation. Celia blushed immediately.

  “Brannis, what have you been telling him?” she demanded.

  “Telling him? Nothing. Danil’s the nosiest boy I have ever known and we were at the family’s estate that night,” Brannis said.

  “I cast a quick shield for privacy and everything,” Celia protested.

  Danilaesis laughed. “That’s why I got curious what you were hiding. Brannis’s door never has any shields or wards on it. He wouldn’t even be able to let himself in.” And he laughed anew at his own joke. “Besides, that shield was so bad. You must have wanted to keep mice out or something, cuz it wasn’t going to stop anything smarter.”

  “I can only imagine what harm we caused his delicate—”

  “Danil, you want to tell Celia here where babies come from?” Brannis asked solemnly, trying to keep a straight face.

  “She doesn’t know?” Danilaesis sounded puzzled.

  “It would seem not.”

  “Well, you see—”

  “No! I know. I know,” Celia cut him off quickly.

  “It is from Axterion looking after him so much. The old codger is too old to remember what is appropriate for a seven-summer-old to know about, so he tells him everything,” Brannis explained. “He is about as innocent as the door guard to a brothel, and it surprises me at times too.” Danil just grinned. He liked knowing things he was not supposed to know. “I am sure he will be very popular when he starts at the Academy this autumn.”

  “Someone else should be looking after the boy, then, I would think,” Celia said.

  “If you are volunteering, just clear it with the warlock first. I do not know that you can act as nanny for both of us. He wore the nerves of two esteemed governesses to tatters before Axterion took to watching him, so the old man must know a thing or two about how to raise young boys. I would just leave it alone if I were you.

  “Now, if we are done with the subject, I have a busy day planned,” Brannis finished. He started down the hall again without waiting for Celia to respond.

  He always has a busy day planned! she thought. He wears himself down to the nub every day, with hardly a moment unspent.

  Rashan had commissioned the forge for his own secret project over a hundred winters ago: the forging of Heavens Cry. It was well built and had been easily refurbished for making Brannis’s gifts.

  Sitting on a stool by the bellows was Sanbin Colvern, whom Celia had recently met, and whom she was not aware Brannis knew at all. He had a black-bladed sword across his knees and was polishing it with a cloth.

  “All finished, Marshal. All but the boy’s part, anyway,” Sanbin said.

  The burly smith did not acknowledge Celia at all, which was more than she could say for herself. She had given an audible gasp upon recognizing him. The three visitors gathered around to admire the blade as Sanbin held it up for inspection. It was smooth and razor-edged, with finely carved runes etched into the surface, only visible when the light caught them just so, being black on black. It curved slightly all down its length, a stylistic choice reminiscent of the dragon’s fang from which it had been made. It even retained the length it had originally had in the mouth of Nihaxtukali, the mighty dragon they had slain at Raynesdark more than a season ago; it would be a greatsword to Iridan, too long for even Brannis to wield properly with one hand.

  Celia leaned in close to examine the runes. “I do not recognize these. I mean, I know the individual runes, but none of the patterns make sense.”

  “The stone folk showed me. I paid them enough in dragon bones and scales to rebuild five cities. I insisted as part of the bargain that they show me how to work the stuff ourselves, considering how resilient it all is. Try to imagine forging a sword when the ingots are impervious to fire. Well, Sanbin had that very problem given to him by the warlock, and came to me for help,” Brannis explained, smiling with pride. “Well, the stone folk use special acids to etch runes into the bone. They create wards to soften the bone to the point where it can be worked with a hammer. After it gets flattened out, they hammer the runes out of it and it hardens again. Once they get that going, they etch the softening runes on one side and the runes they want the finished blade to carry on the other. They then fold the piece, sealing the finished runes inside, before the blade is flattened again and the process is repeated.”

  “Would that not destroy the runes within, as the material is stretched?” Celia asked, curious and impressed. She had not expected to come down to a forge in her formal attire, having caught Brannis shortly after leaving the meeting of the newly chartered Unf
ettered, but she was already finding the trip worth the taking.

  “They thought of that, of course. Every layer has protections for the runes, so they stay intact as the blade is folded and flattened,” Brannis answered.

  “And Danilaesis’s part in all this?” Celia asked. “More secrecy?”

  “Hardly. He has kept the secret well, I will grant, but I needed someone with a strong enough Source to empower the runes—someone not busy about a dozen other tasks. I had tried a few sorcerers I could pry free from Dolvaen’s oversight, but none could manage. I went to Axterion to ask advice and he recommended Danil. I had no idea how strong he was already,” Brannis said. “He has done a wonderful job.”

  Danilaesis smiled, looking that peculiar mixture of innocent and smug that only young children can manage.

  “How hard can it be? Most sorcerers do a stint as wardkeepers at some point in their career, unless they are well connected. You could have just asked me, you know,” Celia said to Brannis. It seemed silly to her that he would involve a seven-summer boy when more competent help was so close at hand.

  “Go ahead. Try it,” Danilaesis said, grinning at her.

  “Oh, no. I could not. You have already worked so hard on it. It would not feel right,” Celia demurred.

  “Oh, it’s all right. I’ll still get to do it,” he replied sweetly.

  Arrogant little imp. I will show him.

  Celia took the blade from Sanbin’s hands, and focused her aether into it. She felt the flow seeping into the blade, but it slowed the farther into the runes it went. It was like pulling back a bowstring: easy at first, but growing harder rapidly the farther it was drawn. Before long, she gave up and the aether spat harmlessly back out.

  “You can try again if you want.” Danil smiled, enjoying seeing her fail.

  “Just finish it, Danil,” Brannis interrupted. “We have a lot to do today and it is not getting done while you and Celia play at this.”

  He must feel like he is watching two children instead of one, Celia realized. Why am I competing with a little boy?

  Celia set the blade down on a work table, and Danilaesis laid his hands on it. Celia shifted her vision into the aether to watch. When she did so, she noticed that Danilaesis had a Source stronger than just about anyone she had met. Usually a Source was not fully matured until puberty or thereabouts, so either the boy was well ahead of his peers, or he was destined for great power. Iridan, Caladris, Dolvaen, Jinzan … the dragon … she had seen stronger Sources, but never on one so young.

  Danilaesis furrowed his brow in concentration, seeming serious for the first time she had seen all day. Aether flowed into the blade, slowing as it went, but never coming to a stop. After a few moments, the runes sprang to life, glowing blue-white against the black dragon-bone metal.

  “That was harder than the daggers,” Danilaesis observed sagely, turning to his elders for approval. He turned back to the blade before any of them could say anything, though and picked it up by the handle.

  “Danil, be careful!” Brannis shouted.

  Whooom. Whooom. The blade cut through the air effortlessly. Brannis, Celia, and Sanbin took cover.

  “Uncle Brannis, try to block with your sword,” Danilaesis called out.

  Brannis kept his head low and did no such thing.

  “Danil, put that down right now, before you hurt someone,” Brannis ordered. Of all the people in Kadrin who would jump to obey an order from the Grand Marshal of the Imperial Army, Danilaesis was far down the list, in Celia’s mind.

  “I helped make it. I just want to try it before you give it to Uncle Iridan,” Danilaesis said, slamming the blade clean through the work table he had just been using. “Oops.”

  Danil realized he had overstepped caution by a wide margin. It was all sunshine and roses to say you just wanted to try something, but once you smashed a piece of furniture to pieces, you lost a lot of credibility with the “I have it under control” argument. Danilaesis set the sword down on the floor and stepped back from it.

  Brannis took three angry steps across the room and picked up the blade, examining it for damage. It had picked up a bit of grime, but was unharmed. Brannis took a cloth when Sanbin proffered it and began cleaning Iridan’s sword.

  He has a war to run, and a wedding to prepare for, yet here he sits, cleaning a sword, Celia thought. It was going to be a long day. Still, it was impressive to see it work. She could not help noticing the grin on Brannis’s face, carefully turned so that Danilaesis could not see. I bet he wishes he had been the one to try it.

  * * * * * * * *

  “Marshal Brannis!” came a shout from across the docks. “Marshal Brannis, I need a word with you.” The shouting voice belonged to Dolvaen Lurien, to whom Rashan had ceded the day-to-day operation of the Imperial Circle. Brannis had been waiting half the afternoon and well into the evening for Dolvaen to arrive while he oversaw the final preparations. He had not invited the second-highest-ranked sorcerer in the Empire, but had arranged for matters to require his attention …

  Brannis turned from the plans he was studying, and looked to the self-made sorcerer of no bloodline at all. Nearby, one of the Imperial Navy’s ships swarmed with activity. Carpenters, riggers, shipwrights, and sorcerers bustled about anxiously. It was well past the time that they usually broke off from working, and went for their evening meal, but they were so close to completion. None wanted to miss the spectacle that everyone had been picturing since Brannis had recruited them for his plan, so they worked past sundown in the growing cold of night on the waterfront.

  Brannis hailed the sorcerer as he drew to a more polite distance that did not require shouting such that the whole Kadris seaport could hear him. “Fair evening, Sorcerer Dolvaen.”

  “Fair evening, yourself,” Dolvaen replied brusquely, a note of annoyance in his tone. “What is the meaning of this? You asked for sorcerers, and I assigned four to help you in your mysterious project. I find that you have eleven working for you now.”

  “In practical terms yes, but technically, no. You assigned me four, and indeed they have been helping me admirably. But you see … those four had subordinates, so technically seven of those eleven are merely working for the other four,” Brannis reasoned. He had suspected that some of that logic might fail to make a pressing case, but he had been using the subordinate sorcerers for days and had gotten plenty of use from them in the meantime.

  “You cannot cut eggs in half with me to double them, Sir Brannis. I have fielded complaints of wards in need of repair or aether having gone unanswered for days. You are crippling the wardkeepers, and have one of my best rune-carvers unavailable for lucrative jobs that I cannot just pass off to lesser artisans. This was not meant to be a permanent assignment, nor had I intended that you press more than the four assigned to you into service,” Dolvaen spoke quickly, likely having organized the diatribe into a neat little speech on his journey from the tower. He had managed to give Brannis no opening to interject until he was finished.

  “You do have a point. My apologies. Perhaps I can send my cousin Danilaesis to help shore up your numbers. I have found him to be quite adept,” Brannis told Dolvaen. Then he turned back to the ship, and called up to one of the sorcerers on board: “Krogen, is she ready to test?”

  “Aye aye, captain!” the sorcerer responded, making an attempt to sound nautical.

  “What have you done to that vessel?” Dolvaen asked. “The rigging is a mess, you have cargo netting everywhere, and I do not even see what you have done with most of the sails. What sort of seafaring monstrosity have you got my wardkeepers working on?”

  “Why … none at all,” Brannis replied simply, and waited.

  There was a rumbling sound and a creaking of protesting wood. Slowly, the ship rose. Seawater ran off her sides to make a small sloppy rain into Kadris Harbor until even the keel was free of its aquatic medium. All the workers on board rushed to the sides of the ship, looking down at the docks as they ascended. There were hoots and c
heers as even sorcerers past fifty summers found childlike glee in the sensation of flying.

  “Take it around the harbor once, and set her back down,” Brannis ordered Krogen, shouting up at the vessel now well above them, grinning as broadly and as proudly as any aboard.

  Brannis and Dolvaen watched as the vessel made a circuit of the airspace around Kadris Harbor, using just one small sail and a magically created wind to power them. Another sail was set fore to aft to act as a rudder. Dolvaen stared in silence.

  As the ship settled back down in the water, Brannis leaned close to Dolvaen. “This is how I intend to deal with the Megrenn cavalry and siege weapons.”

  “I will find as many sorcerers as I can spare and put them at your disposal.”

  Chapter 7 - Testing Phase

  Kyrus watched Gahalu stare down at the chessboard. The dark and light squares were fashioned from the woods of the acacia and ebony trees that grew on Denku Appa. Kyrus had made it with his magic, along with two armies of pieces that had once been tide stones and seashells. Gahalu claimed to have seen chess pieces and heard of the game during his travels, but the sort of folk he had sailed with were not the sort to play the game themselves.

  “I take your knight with my knight,” Gahalu said, removing one of the stone figures from the board and replacing it with his own knight.

  Kyrus made a show of studying the board. He had been teaching Gahalu to play, but mostly it was the conversation, and a bit of a feeling of home that he appreciated. So much of Denku Appa was strange to him that his favorite game was a welcome reminder of the place to which he longed to return. He had been teaching many of the Denku how to play, mostly elders and older children. The hunters respected the spirit man, but found his game too slow, its concepts too abstract. None of the Denku posed any challenge for Kyrus, but he enjoyed the leisurely pace and the chance to see his pupils improve and face off against one another. Kyrus had seen five moves he thought Gahalu might make, and knew what he would do against any of them; he was merely giving Gahalu a break from the task of considering his own moves, and to allow the two of them to talk as he awaited the spirit man’s play.

 

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