Bloodsworn

Chapter 2.33 A New Old Blade

33.

“Six dead,” Sammus said, his hands crossed behind his back as he reported the losses to Erak. The prince looked healthier, as if he had managed to finally get a good night's sleep and eat a meal. There was a flush to his cheeks and vigor in his eyes as he stood there reporting the grim news.

“Results?” Erak asked as he sat at a table that had become laden with paperwork overnight. Julius was crammed into a corner of the small office with his head down as he frantically scribbled. Erak didn’t know what he was currently doing, but Julius was turning out to be a good scribe.

“Levels, lots and lots of levels. Nevia’s men made it back perfectly safe and kept the losses to a minimum. Julius bothered Rutledge to acquire her notes on leveling and skills that she’s been collecting and she allowed him a copy of them. We’re using that to guide them. A few of the militia have alerted us that they were offered a class change when they hit ten. Moved away from their primarily civilian classes into more military grades. Not soldiers though, interesting enough.” Sammus used his captive audience to wax on as Erak waited patiently.

Anything was better than paperwork. Even listening to Sammus.

A knock on the door stopped Sammus midword, he’d been talking about a specific type of mushroom like monster in the depths that happened to look like genitalia, and Erak leapt from his undersized chair to the door. He ripped it open and looked down to see one of Snowbeard’s apprentices staring up at him with beady black eyes.

“Oi! Snowbeard’s looking for ya!” the dwarf yelled. He paused for a moment and then shoved a thick finger into his ear and drug out a wad of wax. His beard swayed as he worked his jaw and pulled the second plug of wax out.

“Apologies. Forgot those were there. Snowbeard is ready to attempt reforging the sword. He’d like you and your dragon to be present though,” the apprentice said, this time much quieter. Erak fled his office and left Sammus and Julius to their own devices. The prince could prattle all he wanted to the scribe. With a thought he tugged on the connection between him and Pomp and the dragon came flying down the hall from the cafeteria.

“They can roast a duck well, Erak,” Pomp said as he settled on Erak’s shoulder. Erak grunted and put that knowledge away to be used for later. Rations had been barebones but the foraging teams had begun to bring in wild game from the surrounding forests over the last few days. The changes in the wildlife had been a rampant discussion amongst those with nothing better to do.

It took nearly ten minutes to walk to Snowbeard’s forge, the dwarven halls twisted turned upon each other in a confusing maze that only made sense to their creators. The halls had begun to fill as more and more survivors came trickling in, filling the once empty halls with sound and life.

“It’s strange seeing them all. I came here with Snowbeard. He came to die here and I hoped he’d whisper a few more secrets on his deathbed. Instead this happens and now our ancient hold is full of life.” The dwarf shook his head and his beard swayed back and forth hypnotically.

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“Humans and elves more than our kin, but still life. Dwarves are coming though. One of the holds nearby was attacked by some type of rock beast and the water cisterns were ruptured. They had to leave and soon dwarves shall be here in great number,” the apprentice continued on. Erak nodded, making note of that. Dwarves were stout and formidable even when their training was lackluster. He’d like to bring in some more to bolster the numbers of his militia.

Snowbeard’s forge was cooler than it had been when the master smith had forged his armor, but it was still uncomfortably warm. Erak felt sweat bead up and start to soak into his linen shirt. He had left his armor off for the day, walking about in just a plain shirt, pants, and boots. Torpin’s chastisement when she had seen him had been an annoyance, but she had a point. A commander couldn’t just walk around in plain clothes.

Those thoughts were banished as Snowbeard trundled out of the backroom with the dragonbone blade in his hand. He set the oversized blade down on a table and looked over to his apprentice and spoke to him in brief guttural words. The apprentice nodded and left the room, leaving the three of them alone.

“The blade’s too long. Even for you. I wish to shorten it, turn it into a proper longsword.” Erak frowned and looked down at the sword. It was oversized and a bit ridiculous. He shook his head in negative. Snowbeard snorted and shook his head.

“Had a feeling. I’ll need to reinforce it then. The heat that warped it was powerful and compromised the structural integrity. Dragon bone is unique in its composition. Light as bird bones but harder than steel. It holds a great edge but how light it is can be a problem. There’s no heft to the blows. I have an ingot of the coldforged iron left. I wish to try to form an alloy with the blade and shape it.” Snowbeard turned and walked over to a small desk in the corner and grabbed a sheet of paper and brought it back over.

The paper was stretched across the sword and Erak leaned in to look at it. It was a diagram, covered in dwarven runes that Erak vaguely recognized as numbers. It was his sword, or at least it was what the dwarf wished his blade to become. It was even longer than it was now and wider. An oversized greatsword that with a full hilt would be as tall as he was.

“It’s not practical. At all. Your hammer can be your personal, close weapon and I can forge you a fair few shorter blades if the environment is tight. But this monster? You’ll be the scariest thing on a battlefield.” Snowbeard was smiling as he looked down at the paper.

“What about a spear?” Pomp asked for him. He did have that skill he could use but it was useless without having an actual spear.

“I could make you a dozen of them, but I’m nearly out of the good materials you brought up.” he sighed and shook his head as if he was about to admit a great shame.

“I am a metal worker, through my bones. I can forge you a spear tip like you’ve never seen before. There will be enough of the dragonbone and coldforged iron left for it. But the shaft, that needs to be done by an elf. They’re woodworking is second to none and they ancient groves produce wood harder than iron but is flexible. That’s what you need.”

Erak nodded and made a mental note to talk to Sammus about if he knew any elveish woodworkers. He looked back at the diagram of the greatsword and he couldn't’ help the smile that split his face.

“How long will it take to forge the blade?” Pomp asked.

“Three days. And I’ll need your help again on the last day.” Erak nodded and let his fingers dance over the blade. Soon enough he’d be ready for battle again.