LadySmith

by Rhavensfyre

  Enough time had passed. Alex plucked out the slim piece of metal from the hot coals and brought it up to eye level. It glowed dimly, dull orange against the muted background of amber light illuminating the forge room. The flames had burned low, leaving only the red-hot coals to cast their primitive light across the room. Irreverent shadows danced gaily in the far corners, while tendrils of darkness licked back at the tongues of light invading their night borne life. Larger shapes lurked inside those happier shadows, layers upon layers of dark and light trying to share a common ground. Goaded by her dark mood, those shadows didn’t dance in the firelight. They twisted slowly, seeking a way to escape the light and seek darker things in the night.

  A quick twist of the wrist brought the blower beneath the forge back to life, sending sparks shooting across the top of the coals. Alex made a sound deep in her throat. Dissatisfied with the color, she thrust the glowing metal back into the forge, burying it far into the pile of red-hot coals.

  Alex stared moodily into the white-hot heart of the stoked forge. Sweat poured down her forehead, burning her eyes, but rubbing away the moisture would only leave more soot streaks on her face. While she waited for the iron to turn, she took a quick drink of water from her ever-present water bottle. The action was more automatic than anything else. Her body demanded repletion of lost fluid, there was no enjoyment there, only practical necessity.

  While she worked, she let her mind wander freely, hoping it would stumble on a feasible plan to rescue Rohanna. And, much like it always did when she was at the forge, time slipped away from her. The world was reduced to the rhythm of hammer on anvil and the hiss of hot coals whispering to each other in the background.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “I think the steel is hot enough, don’t you?” a rough voice asked.

  A quick shallow breath was all Alex allowed herself. She had been distracted enough that someone had invaded her sanctuary without her knowledge. Her fingers tightened around the smooth maple handle of her heavy hammer, not so much that she couldn’t switch her grip, but enough to put a bit of strength behind her next blow without shocking her wrist. She rarely considered her blacksmithing tools as weapons. They were better suited to creating than destroying, but her heavy hammer would do.

  Twisting away from the light of the forge, Alex blinked twice, quickly, trying to clear her vision. She scanned the darkness for the source of the voice, but all she could see was unrelieved black coming in through the doorway. She stepped away from the anvil, balancing lightly on the balls of her feet and giving herself room to maneuver. A second step might give her intruder the idea that she was retreating in fear. They would be wrong.

  A low chuckle followed her movement.

  “Your mother’s daughter to the last, Alexandria.” A low, masculine voice spoke out from the shadows. The lightly mocking voice carried with it a soft brogue that marked him as coming from the Old Country. “You can put the hammer down. You have no cause to fear me, nor would I ever harm you. Besides, a blacksmith’s forge is sacred.”

  As he spoke, he emerged from the shadows. A tall man, he was wide in the shoulder and broad across the chest in the way that only blacksmiths could be. His plain white shirt and leather pants were worn but clean. The shirt could have been in fashion a hundred years ago or yesterday, but appeared homespun. He stepped closer to the forge and details of his face emerged. He had dark hair that would have fallen across his forehead in loose waves if it wasn’t pulled back along his skull by a long braid, framing a face that seemed too young for his build. He was beardless but his jawline was too smooth to ever have seen a razor. A heavy brow shadowed his eyes, his cheekbones were high and accented by shadow as well. His looks gave him away, as much as his words did. One of the Old Ones, Alex decided, the Tuatha De Danann. Alex became even more wary of her guest. If he was strong enough to cross through the veil on his own volition, he was also strong enough to be a serious threat.

  Despite his reassurance, she didn’t relax her stance.

  “What do you know of my mother?” Alex demanded. The man’s calm assurance of superiority set her teeth on edge. He might have stated his intentions were peaceful, but he still hadn’t told her why he was here. Until then, Alex would treat him as what he was, an intruder.

  The strange man looked up then, revealing bright blue eyes that glowed like the purest sapphires. The air crackled around them, charged with all the power of a storm that threatened to bring the lightning just so the thunder could make its voice heard. Light seemed to gather about him, making the shadows cringe and retreat into the darkest corners.

  “I know much, Alexandria. Things you should know. Things you need to know.” The man’s voice was gentle, although his tone was urgent. “Things aren’t always what they seem. Truths and lies can become twisted until no one knows which is which. What I do know and what you should have been told years ago, is that your mother loved you very much. After she died, I didn’t know what else to do. I still regret leaving you with your aunt, even though I knew it was for the best.”

  “I don’t understand. My mother is dead?” Alex shook her head. After so many years without knowing, a part of her wanted to clap her hands over her ears and take back what she had heard. She found she was afraid of what this stranger would say to her next. Taking a jagged breath, Alex gave into the long suppressed rage she had nursed for so many years it had become a part of her. Her hammer came up, pointing directly at the stranger’s chest like a judge’s gavel.

  “No. You lie! My mother left me when I was a child. She left me with the tribe while she stayed with her human lover. She abandoned her family, her position as the leader of my people, and left me to fend for myself.”

  “So much anger, Alexandria. Yet, here you are, living apart from your people…choosing a human over your tribe. How can you deny your mother what you have sought for yourself all these years?”

  “That’s unfair! I wasn’t responsible for a child. She left me to fend for myself, the daughter of a traitor. I was an outcast long before I ever left that place.”

  The stranger stepped closer until he was face to face with Alex above the iron anvil that separated them. Two sets of bright blue eyes blazed defiantly, each refusing to break eye contact first. Two equally strong jaw lines clenched stubbornly.

  Alex was of a height with the stranger and found herself staring directly into eyes that looked overly familiar, eyes that looked exactly like the ones that stared back at her in the mirror every morning.

  “Alexandria, your mother made me promise to send you to Kaleigh. On her death bed, she did this. I could not deny her at the time. Do you not think it pained me as much as it does you, losing the only thing left of her that I loved?”

  Alex’s hands went numb. She heard the dull thump of her hammer hitting the packed dirt beneath her feet. Her knees threatened to fail her as well, trying to follow gravity’s path. Grasping blindly, nerveless fingers found and then clung desperately to the solidness of the heavy anvil while her world spun around her. Pain streaked through her, travelling up her arm, and lighting her body on fire. Strong emotions warred within her, simultaneously demanding attention, all wanting answers, all crippling her with the need to know.

  “It hurts you still, the touch of cold iron?”

  Of course it does, Alex thought, her teeth clenched against the discomfort. But it was real, it was solid, and it was something she understood very well. It grounded her.

  “My poor child, have you never wondered why you are drawn to the forge? Why you can tolerate the touch of iron while your kinswomen cannot?”

  Realization struck Alex as his words sunk in. All those years of being teased, all those years of whispers that stopped whenever she walked by certain cabins. They were the same ones that grumbled and fussed when Kaleigh announced that Alexandria was chosen to succeed her rather than her own daughter.

  She was always too tall, too different, too noticeable for a tribe that prided itself on its survival by
being perfectly unremarkable. No one noticed them because they were beneath notice and that made them feel safe. It was a pitiful tribute to a race that used to make men tremble and fear their own dreams.

  Blue eyes, black hair. None of her people had her height or her coloring…but this man did.

  My father. Suddenly the ground beneath her didn’t feel quite so solid. Her knees betrayed her, and she sunk to the packed dirt beneath her feet.

  This stranger, her father, gathered her gently in his arms and lifted her up.

  “I know you have many questions, Alexandria, but this is neither the time nor the place. Rohanna will be coming soon, and you have important work to do. Know this, whatever happens, Bellaria must not be allowed to return to the Shadow Lands. That she sought out Rohanna as a child is no accident. With Rohanna under her control, she can devastate both worlds, and that cannot happen. Each of you has a part to play in this, and you are strongest together. Kaleigh has crippled you with ignorance by keeping me a secret. In doing so, she denied you your birthright. It is time to correct that mistake, and not in a way of my choosing, but out of necessity.”

  “Ro? Coming here. How?” Alex said, her voice hoarse. There was too much information coming at her at one time, too many questions and too many answers being given that in turn, lent themselves to more questions.

  Alex’s father grasped his daughter’s hands within his own, calloused and rough from hours at the forge. They comforted her in their familiarity.

  “Even now, you ask of Rohanna first, despite the questions welling up in your mind. The heart demands its answers, and so her name is first upon your lips. It is well, Daughter, that you have found such a love. Perhaps it will let you open your heart more generously when you reexamine your mother’s choices.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t come to me before this.” A slow tremor travelled through Alex’s body, which was suddenly cold despite the heat of the forge room. Alex started to shiver, her teeth chattering in response to the chill.

  “I know, and I am sorry. Time is limited, and there is no other way to do this, Daughter. Know that I do this out of love,” he said, grasping Alex’s left arm firmly within his large hands. “Your mother was ever so much wiser than me. I thought this was something you should have never been denied, I see now that it was better this way. You have forged your own strength without my gifts and you are stronger for it. I am so very proud of you.”

  Her father’s touch made her fingers tingle, as if a low electrical current was passing through her skin. Alex felt the small hairs on the back of her arm raise in protest, then the sensation spread, travelling to the base of her skull. The sound of his voice echoed around her as if coming from a long distance yet it filled Alex’s ears louder than any drum.

  “I am Gofannon, the forge is my domain. No daughter of mine should feel pain at the touch of cold steel. Your strength has always been that of black iron torn from the earth. Through my blood, your heart carries the fire of falling stars. I give to you your birthright. I fear it is no gentle gift.” Regret and love colored the deep voice. The words circled around them, gathering power as they rang out into the night.

  Without warning, the tingle in her arm became sharp pain. Alex’s vision bled bright red with the intensity. The pain was pure agony, unforgiving and relentless. The sting of a thousand fire ant bites escalated into the burning of the purest fire pouring across her skin like liquid sun. Alex threw her head back, her spine arching as she howled her pain into the sky. She felt the shock of her knees slamming into the hard soil as her body betrayed her, folding onto itself before she lost consciousness. Red bled to black, her mind racing into oblivion to escape the pain. Before absolute darkness descended on her, she felt strong arms catch her.

  “When day and night meet at the forge of souls, the midnight sun will bring mixed blessings. The one who is two, shall lose and gain a crown. One will be given their hearts desire, while another shall be torn asunder.” Gofannon repeated Maeve’s prophecy with a heavy heart. Prophecy always required sacrifice.

  Very carefully, he lowered Alexandria’s unconscious body to the ground. A small towel became a pillow to cradle her head. It was the only physical comfort he could offer her, and she would need her strength in the coming hours. A single caress along the cheek of a daughter he had not seen in four hundred years was all he allowed himself before stepping aside. He was here for a purpose and there was one last thing he needed to do before he could leave.

  He picked up Alex’s hammer and hefted it in his hand, impressed with its weight. Looking down on Alex’s still form, he murmured softly, “You’ve met your sun, Alexandria, and lost your crown. Another waits for you when you are ready to take it.”

  Hefting the hammer in his hand, he raised his arm up three times, striking the anvil in slow succession. The anvil pealed loudly under the force of each swing, ringing heavily across the silence. Cocking his head to the side, he waited a moment, listening intently. A rumble of deep thunder answered the lightning that danced upon the cold surface of the iron anvil. Satisfied, he laid the hammer upon the now silent anvil and walked into the waiting storm.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Noooooooooo!” Rohanna screamed, pulling away from Bellaria’s grasp. Lightning danced in the clouds above them, adding an ozone smell to the sharp taste of magic coiling around Bellaria’s circle like a deadly serpent. The sudden illumination revealed the thirteen women standing around Rohanna. They managed to stand steady against the sudden onslaught of wind and rain. Not even the frozen drops falling like icy spear points disturbed their chanting.

  Then a sudden boom sounded close to them and stole their words. Thunder shook the ground with such violence that some of them stumbled and fell.

  The chanting stopped, and with it, their control of the wild power they had been gathering. Tossed into the maelstrom without a guiding hand to shape it, the wind gathered up the loose strands and sent the torn roots scurrying for the safety of the wet earth. The circle shredded into nothingness.

  “This isn’t working, Bellaria!” One hooded figure screeched, pressing her hands over her ears against the sudden change in pressure. She crawled to the nearest woman and rolled her over. Blood leaked from her eyes and nose and she stared blindly into the storm. The rain pelted her and still she did not blink. Her throat gurgled like a fountain from the rain running down her and into her mouth. The storm was slowly drowning her, and she did nothing to resist it. Horrified, the woman managed to make it to her knees and crawl towards Bellaria. “We need to stop, now.”

  “I will not!” Bellaria bellowed, desperately reaching out to gather up the fractured threads. “I will not lose what I have gained!”

  She grabbed for Rohanna, digging her nails deep into Rohanna’s arms until she drew blood, trying to realign the threads of control and stop whatever was happening. Rohanna spun in her grasp, flinging her arm wildly and almost knocking Bellaria over.

  Bellaria’s rage ignited into something red hot. It scorched the air around her and even set the rain on fire. The witches scattered, scampering across the wet ground like spiders seeking dry ground.

  “Foolish women, I am not done with you, yet,” Bellaria snarled. She reached out once again, this time snatching at the life threads of her coven and reeling them back in.

  Crawling in the mud like the grotesque creatures they were, not a single one of them deserved her mercy, not even the one clutching at her robe and begging her to stop. She kicked out viciously. The woman whimpered and rolled away, already half forgotten.

  “You will not defy me!” she bellowed, shaking Rohanna like a ragdoll. Bellaria continued to draw down the raw energy around her until it felt like her skin was on fire. Ignoring the pain, Bellaria screamed her defiance into the storm. “I will not be denied my revenge.”

  Without warning, the world exploded into blinding white light.

  Bellaria found herself lying on her back in a puddle at the edge of the circle. S
he scrambled back to her feet only to wobble like a newborn colt struggling to find its balance.

  Bellaria turned in a circle, blinking away the spots dancing across her vision as she sought out her prize. She found Rohanna standing in the center of the circle, her head thrown back and her arms raised to the sky. Lightning danced with and around her, filling the circle with enough energy to make Bellaria’s skin crawl.

  Bellaria hesitated. Fear crept into her heart for the first time since her exile so many years ago.

  “Rohanna. You cannot control this. You need my help before you get hurt,” Bellaria yelled. It was a desperate lie, but she had to try something—anything to keep Rohanna in her control.

  “No! I will not listen to your lies anymore, Stepmother. I am the Gatekeeper. I know this now. I claim this circle as mine. I will take what is mine and everything that you have stolen from me.” Rohanna did not yell, yet her voice carried easily across the distance between them.

  “Please, Rohanna.” Bellaria feigned weakness. She held her hand out, beseeching her to help an old woman.

  “Never again. Do you hear me? Never again,” Rohanna roared, then cocked her head as if she was listening to something in the wind.

  Thunder boomed across the sky once, twice, then a third time, rumbling across the sky as clear as a drum beating out the rhythm of creation. Bellaria heard nothing but the howl of the storm around her, but Rohanna smiled and nodded before taking a single threatening step towards Bellaria.

  “I know your true name, Bellaria. I know who you are and I will never be your pawn again!” And with that, she was gone.

  A pale afterimage flickered in the dark, a play of light and dark in the shadows that faded with the spent storm. Bellaria gathered her rage into one last surge of energy. Drawing heavily from the witches scattered around her, she hurled one last curse like a javelin towards that flickering image before it faded completely.