Bloodsworn

Chapter 2.17 The Forgemaster

17.

Heat blasted them as they walked into the forge as everyone watched as a team of dwarves worked together in seamless unity. Two worked the billows and fed the forge while another twisted a piece of long metal that was glowing nearly white hot. The fourth and final dwarf stood in the center of the room hammering a still red piece of metal with measured strikes. Sparks flew across the room as the white bearded dwarf continued to work with fevered intensity.

“One moment,” the old dwarf said with a sonorous voice. He twisted the metal he worked on and struck three times in a staccato beat. He lifted the piece off of the anvil and shoved it into a pail of liquid that gave off a burst of golden smoke and the smells of charred wood wafted free of it.

“Olvan, you have the forge,” Snowbeard said as he left the piece still in the quenching pail. He grabbed a rag and wiped his thick fingers on it as he walked over and Erak saw him fully for the first time.

Forge Master lvl. 22

Ancient knowledge has been passed down master to apprentice for generations. This crafter is the current pinnacle of his trade.

Snowbeard had a tightly bound white beard and flushed cheeks that were visible even through the beard. Steel gray eyes were permanently squinted from years of working the forge and his hands had singed hair on the back of his knuckles. Deep wrinkles lined his eyes and liverspotts showed on his scalp. Even with those signs of aging, he looked firm and strong as he walked toward them.

“I am called Snowbeard,” he shoved his hand out toward Erak, ignoring the others. Erak took the dwarf’s grip, the wide hand firmly setting in his own and the strength behind the hand was reassuring.

“He is Erak. I am Pomp,” Pomp said as he settled near them. The dwarf looked down at the dragon and nodded at him.

“I have seen your armor and sword. Good steel, old steel, that had some of the old magiks upon it. Most of its strength came through its representation of something older and stronger. Still, good steel.”

“Is it salvageable?” Pomp asked for him.

“No. Not in the way it was. I can reforge it, but it is missing material.”

Erak turned his head to look at the dwarf and had a sinking suspicion. There was a glint in those steely eyes, a mischief there that Erak didn’t trust.

“This holding sits upon something much older. Something the Conqueror sundered. A great vault sits deep, deep, deep in the earth at the roots of the mountain. Armor from your people. Cold-forged in the Ancient Ways. It would be better suited for you than the suit you were wearing.”

“How deep are the tunnels and are they taller than the ones here?” The rest of the group had splintered about to watch the dwarven apprentices work except for Rutledge who was watching with avid interest.

“They are taller and they are deep. It’ll take a day or two to get that far down. Creatures have begun to enter into these upper halls. From the depths,” Snowbeard said. There it was.

Am I on a quest for myself or for the dwarf?

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“What else is down there? The payment for you forging a new set of armor for Erak?” Pomp asked.

“If you can reach the vault, and I have the key for it, then there is a book. Several of them in fact. They show how the old ones worked metal. With magiks. I wish them returned to us,” Snowbeard said.

“How many books?” Pomp asked.

“Five if the records are correct. If you do this for me I shall craft you a suit of armor that will fit you, be yours, fully encompass who you are and what you will become. No longer shall you carry the weight of another warrior’s legacy but craft your own.”

“Don’t need to sell it. Erak will do it. He needs his sword though. And maybe a breastplate and shield,” Pomp said looking over at Erak’s unarmored form.

“Ahh, the dragonbone blade.” Snowbeard looked over to the corner and Erak saw the long blade for the first time. “Dragon bones are heavy in metals. The heat you subjected it too has warped it. It will need to be reworked, but I can forge you something beyond what you ever dreamed of as a weapon. In the meantime I have a few blades that my apprentices have forged. Good swords, just not at the scale you are used to.”

Erak looked over to a corner where the dragonbone sword sat, edges darkened and charred. It looked partially melted down, sagging under its own weight. Erak tore his eyes from his damaged weapons and at the swords that Snowbeard had pointed toward.

There was a rack of swords, built for dwarven and human hands, sitting there. They were straight longswords that would feel small in his grip. Erak walked over to them and picked one up, swinging the blade a few times and grunted in annoyance as his fears were realized. It would be awkward holding the undersized weapon.

“I know it’s not sized for you, but it’s the best we have on hand,” Snowbeard apologized halfheartedly as Erak grabbed a plain scabbard and rammed the blade home.

“There is no armor that will fit someone your size, but I do have a few shields that could work with a bit of effort. By tonight I’ll have something for you,” Snowbeard promised and Erak grunted. He was feeling nude standing there without his heavy plate.

“I will of course be going with you,” Sammus said as he stayed near the edge of the conversation.

“As will I!” Nevia chimed instantly. Erak hardly heard Victoria’s soft snort at the junior officer’s declaration.

“I won’t. I would like to see the books you bring back,” Rutledge muttered.

“Tomorrow after breakfast I shall depart to the depths. What are the monsters that have been emerging from the depths?” Pomp asked for Erak. At this Victoria finally perked up and looked over to them.

“I have placed sentries near the known entrances into the depths. They have encountered a series of monsters that are animalistic. No weapons, most low level and fairly weak,” Victoria rattled it off quickly.

“Not demons?” Erak signed to her.

“Not so far. And nothing above level fifteen. My soldiers have not had any issue with keeping them from entering the hold.”

“Easily could be just the weakest being forced out of the depths,” Erak hypothesized.

“True. There might be a real challenge down there waiting for you,” Victoria said and gave him a predatory smile. Erak matched her smile as his mood suddenly lifted at the thought.

“Don’t get too excited, Erak. You are still weak and don’t have your armor. Can’t be throwing yourself at everything like you normally do,” Sammus reminded him, the smaller elf nudging Erak with his elbow.

“I have lived most of my life without armor. I can fight without it,” Erak said. Sammus rolled his eyes and Nevia gave a small chuckle at that.

“Why not just send an expedition down there. A troop of soldiers instead of just a few?” Rutledge asked.

“My soldiers have too much to do. We are securing food depots, finding survivors, clearing roads, and a half million other things. I can not send a company of soldiers down for an errand. Erak will have to be enough,” Victoria said.

“And Prince Sammus and Lieutenant Nevia,” Victoria added after a moment.