Forged Bonds (Binding Words Book 4)

by Daniel Schinhofen

  “Days?” Sean chuckled. “I’m sorry, Lord, you must have me mistaken for Denmur.” His laughter stopped and he became serious. “I’ll do it within the hour. If you’d like to continue with the party while I work?”

  Eyes going wide and nostrils flaring, Lord Sharpeyes was about to speak when Lady Sharpeyes beat him to it, “Very well, MacDougal, we shall give you one hour. Servants, move the items to the side so the floor is open for other matters.”

  Lord Sharpeyes’ jaw snapped shut, but he nodded. “Yes, one hour. In fact, bring us a glass. We shall make an event of it. In exchange for the hour, MacDougal, there will be a rider added. If you fail to make a gift worthy of the other items on the table, your punishment for your slander will be tripled.”

  “And when I finish and the gift is worthy of the others, you will admit that someone tampered with my gift,” Sean replied as he moved to the side of the room. “You’ll even go so far as to find the one responsible and have them take that same penalty in my place.”

  “Agreed,” Lady Sharpeyes said. “Ah, here is the glass. We shall need a neutral party to make sure it is not tampered with. Who shall we pick? Yes, of course... Commander Babbitt, please come forward.”

  “Lady,” Babbitt said, bowing slightly to her, “how might the guard serve you?”

  “Take this glass and make sure it is not tampered with so the sands run for a full hour.”

  “Am I allowed to guard it to my utmost?”

  “Of course.”

  “I require a second table to be set beside the other one. I will make sure no one comes within arm’s reach of it.”

  “Make it happen,” Lady Sharpeyes said. “Now that things are ready, let the party continue.”

  “With the gifts currently on hold, we shall proceed to the other business we have this night,” Lord Sharpeyes said. “Denmur and Gertihs, come before me.”

  Sean watched the two men step forward, wondering how long until the next table was brought in. Another shiver of ill omen traveled down his spine when the two men came to a halt in front of the Lord.

  “Gertihs, when you were last here, you struck Denmur in full view of our guests. We had you leave to prevent any escalation. That was, however, not enough for the insult you did me and my wife, nor for the injury you did Denmur. While considering what should be done, Denmur suggested an answer I have agreed to. A duel of honor.”

  The crowd, which had been speaking softly, went silent at the proclamation. Lady Sharpeyes was looking displeased and Eva had grabbed Ryann’s arm, her face going pale. Ryann herself looked ill, and Sean wondered what the duel meant.

  “I will need to find a champion to—” Fredrick began to say.

  “The duel will take place once MacDougal finishes his attempt at salvaging his own honor,” Lord Sharpeyes stated firmly, cutting Fredrick off. “Feel free to try to find someone here.”

  Fredrick looked around the room and saw mostly hostile or neutral expressions. “As you say, Lord.” Stepping back, Fredrick headed for Eva and Ryann.

  Not seeing the table for the hourglass yet, Sean went over to speak to them, only to have two guards in Sharpeyes’ livery stop him. “What?”

  “You have a task and are not to be allowed help from others,” one of the guards said stiffly.

  “MacDougal, just come back here and wait,” Babbitt said. “Those two will not bend on their Lord’s will.”

  Sean wanted to ask about the duel and why everyone reacted badly, but refrained from doing so, knowing it would give away his Outsider status. Moving over to the figurines, Sean waited, examining the lumps of metal with his Mage Sight.

  Bits of dull gray hovered over the featureless lumps. The few small gems he had used for eyes were deep inside the metal now. At least they didn’t take the gems away, Sean thought. I should be able to put them back into the right shape long before the hour is out unless they have another trick up their sleeves.

  “Here is the other table,” a servant said, placing it next to Babbitt.

  “Thank you. Now back away,” Babbitt told the servant as he drew the sword at his waist.

  Sean frowned when he realized that Babbitt and the liveried, armored guards were the only ones with weapons in the room. The frown vanished a moment later when Babbitt brought the tip of his sword into contact with the marble floor. The instant the sword touched the floor, a dome of shimmering light gray energy encompassed the table, hourglass, and Babbitt.

  The gray energy was invisible to normal sight, and he had a feeling that touching it would be bad. Something about the energy felt familiar to him, but Sean pushed that feeling aside when Babbitt spoke.

  Babbitt grunted, as if he was straining against a heavy weight, “I’m about to turn the glass. Are you ready to begin, MacDougal?”

  Sean turned to the table with the figurines, “I’m ready.”

  “Begin,” Babbitt said firmly, turning the glass with one hand.

  Sean picked up the metal that had been the Canine Moonbound. Focused on the metal, he ignored all the whispers that began as he started to work. The metal moved to his will, Shaping itself as it lay in his hands.

  I know you had a hand in this Denmur, and I’m going to love wiping that smug look off your face. Sean let his anger fuel his drive to fix the figurines before the hour expired. Fuck you too, Sharpeyes... it’ll be amusing to see your shock when I finish.

  The gems came out of the metal and Sean set them on the table. With those free, he shifted straight into molding it back into the figure it had been. Setting the metal back down, Sean leaned in to get a better idea of how it needed to be positioned next to the hound when he was done. The overall shape was finished quickly, allowing him to focus on the details.

  Some kind of commotion almost pulled his attention from the figurine, but Sean grimaced as he ignored it and continued with his work. Assholes... at least let me work in peace. Eat the food and drink the wine and just leave me alone.

  Starting at the muzzle of the figure, he made sure the details were as sharp or sharper than they had been. He worked back from there, the figure becoming more and more realized. Sean only paused to pick up the gems and insert them into the eyes.

  Time flowed past Sean as he worked, lost in the moment. Setting the Moonbound right under the hound’s maw, he moved onto the smaller figurines. Each of those were done in quick succession. Finally setting the last one down, Sean stretched and the sounds of the room came rushing back to him.

  “It’s not possible! No Shaper can do that,” Demur was all but shouting. “He’s using something or someone, breaking the rules set out by Lord Sharpeyes!”

  “You puffed up toad, just because he’s more skilled and talented than you doesn’t mean he’s cheating,” Ryann shouted right back.

  “What would a rough, common woman like you know of Shaping?” Denmur sneered, the word “woman” obviously used instead of another he wanted to use.

  “If you’re done trying to pick a fight with my wife, who’d totally kick your ass if she wanted to, by the way, I’m done,” Sean said. “It seems I was forgotten during the argument.”

  “Not by everyone,” Lady Sharpeyes said, gliding forward with a silver monocle in hand. “I was paying a lot of attention to your work. Denmur, you are quite mistaken. MacDougal used only his own energy.”

  Babbitt dropped the energy around him and sheathed his sword. “The glass still has a quarter of its sand.”

  “Very well,” Lord Sharpeyes said, striding forward. “I shall inspect the pieces.”

  “We should have another do that for you, husband,” Lady Sharpeyes smiled sharply. “To make sure everything is impartial.”

  Lord Sharpeyes came to a halt a few feet from Lady Sharpeyes. “I do not see the need for that.”

  “It is well known that you favor Denmur, and that he is at odds with MacDougal. I only wish to help shield you from wild speculation. Well, more wild speculation, since you’ve already decided to move forward with the duel that Gertihs is fa
r from prepared for.”

  Eyes cold, Lord Sharpeyes stepped back. “Always so worried for me, dear wife. Fine, who would you pick as impartial?”

  “It must be someone who is not with either of their associations,” Lady Sharpeyes mused as she looked around the room. “Someone who knows energy and how hard it is to craft complicated items. Magus Giralt, please come forward.”

  “Lady Sharpeyes,” Magus Giralt said, stepping forward.

  “Your work with runes is well known. Your use of gems and metals in those runes gives you some understanding of what MacDougal might have done. Do you think you can impartially examine the figurines that were just made and tell us if their quality is equal to the others?”

  “If you require it from me, Lady Sharpeyes. I have always tried to stay out of the conflicts of others.”

  “I fear that there are few who can be as impartial as you here tonight.”

  “Then for you, Lady, I shall do as you request.”

  “Thank you. Please go examine the figurines.”

  Lord Sharpeyes frowned but nodded. “Magus, I trust you to do what is right.”

  “I shall give the truth, Lord,” Magus Giralt said, moving toward the table.

  “Lady, if I might retire until the duel?” Babbitt asked with heavy breaths, leaning against the table with the hourglass.

  Lady Sharpeyes motioned a female servant forward. “See that Babbit is cared for. We will need him to moderate the duel.”

  “As you wish, mistress,” the servant said, offering her shoulder to Babbitt. “If you will lean on me, sir.”

  Babbitt did as she asked and slowly left the floor. People watched him go for a moment, but focused on Giralt when he reached the table Sean stood next to.

  “MacDougal, please step away from the table,” Giralt asked. “I’ll need you removed a few paces so I can feel the energy of the pieces without you clouding the area.”

  “No problem,” Sean said, going to Ryann.

  As Giralt began his examination, Sean leaned in toward Ryann, “Did Fredrick find a champion?”

  “No,” Ryann whispered back.

  “What does it mean to duel for honor here?”

  “The aggrieved gets to choose if champions are allowed, along with the severity of the duel. Fredrick doesn’t have a chance. This was stacked against him.”

  “Does he get any choices?”

  “He can object to the weapon chosen, and offer another one. If that isn’t agreed upon, the moderator of the duel will choose the weapon that both will use.”

  “No one will step forward?”

  “Everyone backed away, and I don’t know why,” Ryann whispered back. “They must know who Denmur plans to use as a champion.”

  Sean’s eyes drifted to Denmur, who was talking with his son. The pair seemed to be having an argument until Evan Sharpeyes interjected himself into it. Denmur grimaced, but nodded at what Evan had to say.

  “Lady Sharpeyes, I have examined the figurines,” Magus Giralt said as he stepped back from the table. “It is my estimation that only Shaping was used in their creation. I felt only a single energy upon them, and they are exquisite works of art that even your parents would be envious of.”

  The room went deathly quiet as all eyes went to the Lord and Lady. Smiling broadly, Lady Sharpeyes stepped forward, “There we have it. I shall have an investigation into who tampered with your gift started tomorrow, MacDougal.”

  “I thank you, Lady Sharpeyes,” Sean said somberly, “Lord Sharpeyes.”

  “Yes,” Lord Sharpeyes said tightly. “With the gift giving done, it is time for the duel. Gertihs, have you found a champion?”

  Fredrick moved into the open space that was being cleared by the other party goers. “I doubt there is anyone who—”

  “I got this,” Sean said, stepping forward. “I’m his champion.”

  Denmur began to laugh a deep belly laugh. “Accepted! Oh yes, accepted. If you apologize for your rudeness to my family, MacDougal, I’ll only ask for blood and not your death.”

  “I do not think death will be required,” Lady Sharpeyes added. “We are, after all, having a party. You would not wish to sour the mood, would you?”

  Denmur hesitated, “I would hate to sour the party.”

  “Why don’t we let the crowd decide once the fight is underway?” Evan Sharpeyes suggested. “Fight until one of them is defeated, then we can see if the guests wish to see a death or not… mother.”

  “Yes, this is a party, after all,” Lord Sharpeyes laughed as he stared at Sean. “Do you still wish to be his champion, MacDougal?”

  “Sean,” Ryann said sharply, “I should be the one, not you.”

  “Who is Denmur’s champion?” Sean asked without answering the question.

  “Someone who has incurred my displeasure by not doing as my son required. Bring Aria Huntress here,” Lord Sharpeyes told the guards. “You will be facing her and my prized cuon, Cuander.”

  Sean turned back to Ryann, “I have to do this.” Embracing her, he whispered into her ear as the crowd all began to talk about who Denmur’s champion was, “The hound won’t attack me, but he will you. I told you how they reacted to me.”

  “I’m supposed to be your shield,” Ryann hissed.

  “Lord,” Sean said, letting her go, “since there will be two fighting for Denmur, it only makes sense that Gertihs has two, as well. You want this to be a fair fight, after all.”

  “Only you have—” Lord Sharpeyes began, but Ryann stepped forward, glaring at him.

  “I will join him.”

  Denmur laughed again, “Let her. Cuander can mount the bitch after the fight ends.”

  Some awkward tittering came from around the room. Lady Sharpeyes’ lips thinned, but she stepped back. Lord Sharpeyes shook his head, “Denmur, there is a Lady present, as well as many Dames. Please refrain from such vulgarities. I will allow the fight to consist of husband and wife, desperately fighting to save their friend’s honor.”

  “I choose bow for weapons,” Denmur chuckled.

  “Rejected,” Fredrick snapped. “Aria’s prowess with the bow is well known. I would choose…” Trailing off, he looked at Sean who was unarmed.

  “Unarmed,” Sean said. “There is a hound after all, and it can’t use any weapons, either.”

  “You would fight Cuander without the aid of a weapon?” Lord Sharpeyes asked as if Sean was the biggest idiot in the world. “You do know he took down a Canine Moonbound by himself?”

  “My figurines attest to that,” Sean shrugged. “I won’t injure him.”

  “As if you could,” Denmur sneered.

  “Bring Babbitt to the courtyard,” Lord Sharpeyes chuckled. “We shall take the fight to there so that everyone may fight to their best ability.”

  Sean stayed where he was when the crowd began to move. Fredrick came to him with a bleak expression. “It’ll be fine, Fredrick,” Sean said softly. “Cuander won’t be a problem. Have a little faith.”

  “I’m not as hopeful as you seem to be,” Gertihs sighed. “I shouldn’t have let you do that. I will make sure that your non-Life Bonded are cared for if things go badly.”

  “What trick do you have up your sleeve, Sean?” Mageeyes said, having delayed following the others.

  “No tricks,” Sean replied. “Who asked for me to be here?”

  “Lady Sharpeyes,” Mageeyes replied with a smile. “Someone might think she planned for you to intervene on Fredrick’s behalf.”

  Fredrick, Eva, Ryan, and Italice all stared at her.

  “What happens if I win?” Sean asked as they began to move after the others.

  “Denmur will lose some face. Not enough to cripple him, though it will undoubtedly infuriate him.”

  “The champion doesn’t gain anything?” Sean asked the question a different way.

  “Since this duel is sanctioned by Lord Sharpeyes, they gain a boon from the Lord or Lady,” Mageeyes replied. “Did you have something in mind, Sean?”


  “Saving Aria,” Sean said simply as he kept walking forward with Ryann at his side. “No one should be forced to fight for another when they don’t want to.”

  Ryann’s breath caught and her determination climbed, “I will do for her what you did for me, Sean.”

  “Let’s find out what the rules are,” Sean said, taking her hand. “Together, I have faith in us winning.”

  “Should I wager on you, then, Sean?” Mageeyes asked idly.

  “Heavily, and I want an equal split of the winnings,” Sean chuckled. The question reminded him of simpler times when he and the others had faced down the town bullies.