The Journeyman for Zdrell

by David K Bennett

  It was nearly noon when Eril and Fil descended the steps down into the main cavern. He scarcely recognized the place.

  The hall and cavern lights were on bright, brighter than he’d ever had them before, and the scene they revealed was worlds different from what he had seen the first time he entered the ancient cavern.

  Where previously, there had been dust and rubble everywhere, now the only visible rubble was at the extreme far side of the cavern. The floor of the cavern was an immense smooth flat surface. Eril hadn’t realized that the floor was smooth, almost polished rock. It looked like it had been not only cleared of debris but swept.

  That wasn’t the biggest change. All the elements of the water wheel assembly looked completely transformed. The wheel still lay on its side, but it was supported in a complicated wooden truss work that was holding it suspended above the ground. The metal of the wheel had been polished and any damaged portions repaired or replaced.

  A cut stone tower stood two-thirds completed, also surrounded by scaffolding. The ironworks with all the gears and metal structures looked to have had work done on them as well. There was still rust visible in places, but the dust and decay that had caked everything was largely gone.

  When Eril looked for the Dynolyth, he couldn’t even find it at first. A temporary wooden structure concealed nearly the entire mechanism. He stood with his mouth open, shocked at all the changes that had taken place in his absence. Just then he heard a yell from across the hall.

  “Eril!” Kason said, as he walked rapidly to him. He walked right up to Eril and lifted him from the ground in a bear hug, which felt odd to Eril because he’d never had this type of demonstration from Kason before, but also because Eril was now taller than Kason, so the burly man’s face was buried in Eril’s shoulder.

  He set Eril down and said. “Ach, boy, tis good to see you again, and whole.”

  Eril attempted to stammer out something, but found his throat swollen with unexpected emotion. Kason either did not notice, or pretended not to.

  “So, what do you think, boy? Tis this not the most wonderful place ever? Looks a sight better than when you last saw it, eh?” the smith said, grinning.

  “Yeah, it’s amazing. How did you get so much done in so little time?” Eril said, still looking around at the changes.

  “Well, when you have wizards, and the money of wizards behind a project, I’m finding that nearly anything is possible. This magical gate of yours makes everything easy, and a bit odd. Your Master Dorull and that Zeldar fellow are keeping the gate traffic going between here and castle Salaways.

  “I’ve had nearly all of my skilled lads in here helping to get things done as well as an army of others that Lord Feldor secured to do the dirty work. The funny bit is that almost none of ‘um have any idea where this cave is. They just know they go through a magic archway and they’re here. Those that stay overnight do so in those barracks. They never go out to the surface, so they don’t know they’re hundreds and hundreds of miles from home.” He stopped and chuckled at the stunned look on Eril’s face.

  “Yeah, I had the same thought,” Kason continued, “These gates, if they’re working through the continent, will change everything. I already made one quick trip into Argaland, and I can tell you that some of the things that are cheap here are dear in Alavar, and the reverse is also true. Traders with access to these gates could make a killing.”

  Eril had thought of some of this previously. He’d also discussed the implications with Dorull and Master Silurian. More importantly, the gates would give them a way to move armies quickly, which could mean the difference between victory or defeat in the coming war. He felt that more than ever, and also the need to keep them secret as long as possible.

  “Well,” Eril said, “any significant trade is going to have to wait. We can’t have anyone guessing these gates are open who works with the demon wizards and Grimor.”

  “Right, you are, boy. Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you the best part. Your lady here, Fil, found the most amazing workshop. There’s forges and tools made out of steel the likes of which I’ve never seen. It doesn’t rust! Can you believe that? All these years down here and but for a smidgen of tarnish it is bright and rust-free without oil or any other preservative. I’d give a finger or two to know the secret of it.”

  Eril had nearly objected when Kason had referred to Fil as ‘his’ lady, but thought that protesting would only make things worse. While he’d been talking with Kason, Fil had wandered off somewhere, so she hadn’t even been there to hear Kason’s remark.

  “What’s going on with the Dynolyth?” Eril asked.

  “Oh, that’s the main thing Master Dorull spends his time on. He has the thing all in pieces and is always muttering over those diagrams you made for him. He’s had me re-plate in silver quite a number of parts. He says the copper ones will have to be re-cast completely, but the gold mostly just needs cleaning. You’ll have to ask him how long it will take to get it back together.”

  “And the water wheel? It looks like you’ve mostly got it repaired.”

  “Oh, aye. That’s where the wonderous workshop has proved its value in so many ways. It has big enough and hot enough forges that I’ve been able to repair or re-make all the damaged parts. I think the wheel’ll be ready in a day or two at most. The tower will take longer, another three or four days before we’re ready to place the repaired bracket atop it. Then it will be up to you to guide the wheel into place.”

  “Wow, that is a lot of stuff you’ve accomplished, though from what Master Silurian has told me, it will only just be fast enough.”

  “Aye, your master is most insistent that time is lacking. I don’t see it, but I’ve learned to never question a wizard such as him.”

  “Is Dorull around?”

  “I dinna know if Master Dorull is here. He comes and goes so oft. But if he is here, he’s likely over there with that Dynolyth thing.”

  “Thanks,” Eril said as he started for the Dynolyth. Over his shoulder, he said, “It really is good to see you, Kason.”

  Kason waved at him and then went to talk to a cluster of workers who had been waiting, respectfully, just out of earshot.

  Eril wandered through the temporary structure erected over the Dynolyth. It was indeed largely disassembled. The structure had shelves all along the walls that were filled with parts from the mechanism. He was examining one of the corroded copper parts when he heard an indignant voice he recognized.

  “What are you doing there? Those parts can’t get out of order or . . . Oh, it’s you, Eril. Welcome back.”

  Eril put back the part he’d been examining and turned to face Master Dorull. “Hello, Master. It’s good to see you.”

  “Good to be seen,” the wizard replied and clasped forearms with Eril in greeting. “I understand you’re to be congratulated for your work in Jull.”

  “Thanks. Things did go better there than I had any right to expect.”

  “Ha, you just proved Silurian’s and my opinion of your talent, boy. We never doubted you.”

  Eril wasn’t quite sure how to take the compliment, so he just smiled.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Dorull said, pointing at the parts lining the walls. “The diagrams and instructions you left previously have answered about three-quarters of my questions, or at least I think they have. But there still remains the other quarter that I’ll really need to get before we can get this marvelous thing working again. If you’ve time, I’d like to go right now to the office where the manuals are to see if you can find and copy out the information I need.”

  “Sure,” was all Eril could reply as Dorull quickly led them back out of the cavern and into the office area where the two gate manuals sat on a table with chairs on either side.

  Three hours later, Eril’s head was still spinning from trying to find the answers to Dorull’s seemingly endless questions and from copying more text and diagrams out of the gate maintenance manual.

  Fil came in then w
ith a basket and said, “Come on, you’ve been studying here long enough. Time to eat.”

  Eril gladly took the chance for a break while Dorull begged off, heading back to work more on the Dynolyth.

  “He’s a funny little man,” Filora said, laying out a cloth on the table before putting out bread, butter, cheese, and apples. “But rude too.”

  Grinning as he reached for the bread, Eril said, “I’m not sure I’ve ever had anyone describe master Dorull as funny before, but rude, sure. You should have seen him when I first met him. He was the very definition of an old curmudgeon.”

  “He doesn’t look that old, exactly.”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t now, but trust me, he looked way older and scarier back then.”

  Fil looked at Eril, confused. “How could he have looked older? Was he in disguise?”

  Chuckling, Eril said, “No, if anything, now he’s in disguise, though not really. Since I met him, he has used a rejuvenation spell several times. Believe it or not, he’s over three hundred years old.”

  “Now, you’re just making fun of me, Eril. There’s no way he’s more than forty-five.”

  “Fil, I’m serious. He’s a wizard, and he really is that old. It’s spells like that that let wizards get to be so old.”

  “So, are you really a hundred years old and you just overdid it on a rejuvenation spell?” she asked, only half-serious.

  “No, Fil. I really am just sixteen. I’ve never been older.”

  “Sixteen?” she asked, shocked. “I thought you were at least seventeen, or eighteen. I didn’t know you were three whole years younger than me.”

  “Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be seventeen soon.”

  “Humph. Maybe I should have let Marta have you. I didn’t think you were so young.”

  Eril was laughing, but starting to get a bit annoyed too.

  “Seriously, Fil, four years from now, you’ll be twenty-three, and I’ll be twenty. No one would bat an eye at that, so why bother about it now?”

  “Well, I just thought you were older. You are always so serious, nothing like any of the other boys in the village. And you’re involved in huge important stuff.” She paused, collecting her thoughts, “And also you’ve never treated me like I’m a failed excuse for a woman. Before you came, my mother was always angry with me for my ‘un-lady-like ways.’ She was convinced I would end up some horrible spinster that would bring the family shame.”

  Eril had guessed some of this from comments made by both Took and his wife, Deela. He felt bad for Fil that her parents couldn’t see her for the truly amazing person he was beginning to see her as. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. When I was very little, my father was always very proud that I could out track and out hunt any of the boys my age in the village. But even then, my mother always complained about how hunting was not what men wanted in a wife. So, I learned everything I could from her about cooking, and even she’ll admit I’m at least as good a cook as her, when I put my mind to it. Marta hates that she’s still not half the baker I am.”

  “Didn’t that make your mother happy?”

  “At first it did. But she wanted me to give up hunting and tracking altogether, and I wouldn’t do that. She also always wanted me to say flattering things to the boys, to ‘get their interest.’ Bah. Most of them haven’t got the wits of a retarded donkey. All they can see is that I don’t have huge tits and I don’t fall all over myself trying to flirt with them.”

  Eril could hear the only partially concealed pain in her voice as she said this. Again, he didn’t have any idea what he could say that wouldn’t make things worse. “Sorry,” was all he managed.

  Fil had been staring at the floor nearly the entire time she’d been pouring out her frustration. Now she looked up. Eril could see her eyes were wet with unshed tears. She brusquely wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and sniffed.

  “Well, just don’t tell my da how old you are. When you first came, he thought you were even younger, but he’s convinced himself that you’re in your twenties and just look unnaturally young because you’re a wizard. It probably doesn’t matter to him or any of the other men in the village how old you are. They’re all afraid of you.”

  “What?”

  “Sure. They’re afraid of anyone who could take out that whole group of bandits without breaking a sweat, let alone that you can fly. When you’re not around, the men of the village tell the tales of the Great War and the zdrell masters of old and half scare themselves to death. They’re all desperate afraid of doing something to offend you, and have you strike them dead on the spot.”

  “Huh,” Eril said, thinking. “I guess that makes sense. But you aren’t afraid of me, right?”

  “Naw. I know you better than they do. I know you’d only strike someone dead if they deserved it, and then you’d probably feel bad about it afterwards, even if it needed doing.”

  Eril was more than a bit frightened by her insight, though he could see that it was probably quite accurate. He shook his head and began eating faster, not really tasting the food, to cover the roil of emotions he was experiencing inside. Fil, ate along in silence as well.

  Deciding that a change in topic was warranted, Eril said, “So, Kason said you found an amazing metal foundry.”

  Fil brightened, both at the compliment and at the change in topic. “Yeah. You wouldn’t believe how many rooms and passages are in this place. I was exploring at the far side of the cavern when I found the metal shop. I’ve also found stables, a huge kitchen, and what I think is some sort of pottery works. Kason says the big oven things in it are kilns used in ceramics and some kinds of metal works. He loves this place.”

  “Wow. I had no idea. If Lord Torch ever finds out what has been here the whole time, he’ll be mighty upset.”

  “Oh yeah. I’m sure he t’will. Course, I hear he’s so happy about all the old armor and stuff we found up the hill, he might forgive you, but I wouldn’t bet on it. He’s the kind that never has enough of anything. Always wants more.”

  Eril thought about that as he finished off a wedge of cheese, then belched. Fil laughed, then looked at him seriously.

  “Eril, can I ask you a question?”

  Panic immediately set in. Eril was afraid she was going to ask him something about their relationship. He swallowed and nodded. “Sure, Fil, anything, as long as it’s not about Jull.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask about that,” she said. “Thinking about Lord Torch reminded me that I’ve been meaning to ask about why you didn’t try and claim any of the magic swords in there for yourself?”

  “Uh, I guess,” Eril replied. This was not at all where he was afraid the conversation was headed, so he relaxed. “Well, since I already have a magic sword, I didn’t think I needed one of those. And I knew they were really valuable, and I knew Torch would be much easier to deal with if he got them.”

  “So, where did you get your sword? I’ve looked at it when you were off at Salaways, and it really is the strangest sword I’ve ever seen.”

  Eril was a little put off being reminded that she’d looked at his sword while he was away, but guessed that if their positions have been reversed, he’d probably have done the same.

  “Well, I made the sword, as part of earning my ranking as a journeyman smith,” he began. “It ended up being the hardest part of the project to complete. But, just so you know, it’s probably best if you don’t pull it out of the scabbard again.”

  He saw her raise her eyebrows, ready to object. He continued, “Look, that scabbard is special. It hides the magical nature of the sword from other wizards and demons. When it’s out of the scabbard, they can sense what it is.”

  “And what is it that makes it so special?” she asked.

  “Well, I found out in Jull that the thing cuts through flesh like a hot knife through butter. It really is nasty the way it cuts through almost anything and anyone, even charzen.”

&nbs
p; He shuddered, remembering the horrible burnt look of the place where the sword had cleaved flesh. “And, if that isn’t enough, I’m pretty sure it is a type of a line-cutter.”

  “I’ve heard you use that term before. What does that mean?”

  “It means a lot of stuff, but the name comes from how line-cutters are the one weapon the demons fear.”

  “Demons can be afraid of something?”

  “They’re not afraid of much, but line-cutters are at the top of the list. See, when a demon comes into our realm from the demon plane, they really don’t belong here. The demon realm is totally different than here, and they don’t like staying here. Where they come from it’s like a huge flaming pit all the time, and that’s what they’re used to. They really don’t like it here and stay only as long as it takes to get their sacrifice and do whatever task they agree to.

  “While they’re here, their lifeline is what links them back to the demon realm. If it gets cut, they either die immediately, or will die soon if they can’t get back to the demon realm.”

  “So why don’t people attack that lifeline when they’re fighting demons?” Fil asked.

  “Because nothing except a line cutter can damage a demon’s lifeline. And as long as their lifeline is intact, there’s pretty much nothing that can hurt them. That’s why they fear them so.”

  “And your sword is a line-cutter? It could cut one of those demon’s lifelines?”

  “Truthfully, I’m not sure, and there’s probably only one way to know for certain, but I think it is. Something the one charzen I used it on said makes me think it is a line cutter, that and the way it sliced right through the spells protecting the charzen.”

  Fil looked at him with a lopsided smile. “You really are something, Eril. I’ve heard all these stories the men tell in the common room at night about zdrell masters and the Great War. But, you’re nothing like the zdrell masters they talk about. You’re not scary, or I mean, at least you don’t seem that way to me. But then you casually talk about having created a weapon which sounds like one of those legendary things that wizards and kingdoms fought over. You’re just always full of surprises.”