Reforged
After the magic groundCassia up, it spat her back out into the world.
She staggered, clutching at her chest, and caught herself on the edge of a wooden table. “Bleeding thorns. I see why we couldn’t bring Knight.”
A trail of red leaked from one of Lio’s nostrils. “What did we just step through?”
Mak put a hand under Cassia’s elbow. “Sorry. That was the best I could do to open Nike’s wards. They aren’t friendly, even to her own blood relatives.”
“The first time is the hardest.” Lyros steadied Lio and handed him a handkerchief. “Now that the protections approve of you, it will get easier.”
Cassia looked around them, her chin dropping. The walls of the round stone chamber were lined with weapons of all kinds. More than she had seen anywhere in Orthros, except the Armory of Akofo, where they were to remain locked at all times.
A memory flashed in her mind of Lucis’s solar, her personal torture chamber, where she had knelt before him in the shadow of armaments that had belonged to the kings of Tenebra.
She could not see any of that ugliness in the Hesperine creations around her. Perhaps she should. And yet how could she? These blades rang with the dark battle cry of blood magic. Like her roses, which had already killed for Orthros.
Lio walked over to study one sword. “It is adamas.”
“The hardest metal in the world,” Mak confirmed.
“But no one knows how to craft it,” Lio protested. “It’s well documented that the Blood Errant found their weapons in a Hesperite ruin with no evidence of how they were created.”
Mak coughed. “Nike added that entirely fictional account to the annals herself, under the pseudonym of a dead historian.”
“Your sister tampered with the historical record?” Lio seemed most scandalized by this above all, and Cassia almost laughed.
Lyros shook his head. “That’s the crime you’re most worried about, scrollworm?”
“Nike invented adamas,” Mak explained. “She built this secret forge for the sole purpose of crafting the Blood Errant’s weapons from her signature alloy. No one else has discovered it in eight hundred years.”
“It’s no wonder,” Lio breathed. “The shadow wards and thelemantic veils she has over this place are a work of art in themselves. The Blood Errant could all set off master spells at once in here with no one the wiser.”
“They probably have. Methu, Rudhira, and Uncle Apollon have all been here before.” Mak beckoned them to the back of the deep chamber.
Geomagical heat bathed Cassia’s skin as they approached the forge. Silver light and unseen, molten power emanated from the great crucible. A nearby pool of water let off such cold that it must have come straight out of Orthros’s frozen mountains.
“Father never breathed a word of this,” Lio said.
“Trying to spare your diplomatic career, no doubt,” Cassia surmised.
“Nike brought you here?” Lio asked Mak.
“Actually, no.” Mak held up the adamas star. “While she was missing in action, I discovered this in her abandoned residence and figured out how to get in.”
“How did she react when she came home?” Cassia asked.
“She tried to kick me out. But I persuaded her to teach me instead.” Mak gestured to the swords on display around them. “These are all practice pieces from our lessons.”
Lyros crossed his arms, gazing into the forge. “When we came to the Empire—to bail you out of jinn prison, Lio—Mak felt his presence was more important than his blades. He gave up weapon smithing, and we asked for reassignment as your bodyguards.”
Lio searched his cousin’s face. “But you changed your mind?”
Mak strode back to the table and braced his hands on a black cloth that covered four mysterious shapes. “You know that what happened at Paradum changed everything. Lyros and I weren’t there to protect you—again. And even when we made it there to help you fight your way out, we faced threats from the Collector that we’ve never seen before. I knew then that it had been a mistake to abandon the forge. We need weapons like the Blood Errant’s.”
Lio joined him at the table. “If Rudhira hadn’t taken Skleros’s head off with Thorn, Cassia and I would both be dead.”
Cassia came to stand on the third side of the table. “Hesperine swords are not Tenebran swords. The Blood Errant have always used their weapons for good. Like them, we can wield these in Hespera’s name without forgetting her tenets.”
“Yes.” Lio’s gentle face was set in a hard expression. “Not in spite of being diplomats, but because we are diplomats, we will bear the burden of violence with you, so our people may know peace.”
Lyros filled the empty space beside Mak, putting a hand over his Grace’s.
A bittersweet smile came to Mak’s face. “I’m sorry. But I’m also glad we’re all in this together.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Cassia said. “One night soon, a blade forged by your hands may destroy an enemy as evil as Skleros.”
Mak took a deep breath and gave a nod. “Well, my errant circle. Meet your new weapons.”
He swept back the black cloth.
Cassia had not thought she could ever find weapons beautiful, but these took her breath away. Four newborn artifacts of adamas, each adorned with a milky white moonstone the size of an eye.
A morning star, enduring as a light in the night sky. A spear befitting a sharp-minded general. The tall, elegant staff of a sorcerer.
But the one all her senses focused on was the dagger. Its blade was darker, less brilliant, but the wicked little thing called to her. She gasped and reached for it. As soon as her hand closed over the hilt, she knew.
“It’s my spade.”
Mak smiled at her. “I found the broken pieces inside Paradum. I couldn’t bear for you to lose it. You can’t replace an artifact like that, not when your battles have created it for you. So I reforged it—unbreakable this time.”
She traced a finger over the moonstone embedded in the hilt, then the flat of the blade. The magic in the weapon rushed out to greet her like an old friend. “It’s still imbued with Lustra magic and Hesperine blood magic, just as it was when it was a gardening tool.”
“I was as careful as I could be, trying to preserve the original enchantments.”
She held fast to it, her only weapon for so many years, now remade. Just like her. Tears pricked her eyes. “Thank you, Mak.”
“You’ve wielded it with courage many times before. That’s why I thought you would feel more comfortable taking up arms.” He gave Lio a questioning glance.
Lio ran his fingers along the staff. “This one is for me?”
Mak nodded. “I hoped it would be acceptable to you, as a scholar and a mage.”
Lio hefted the staff in his hand, then stood it on the ground before him. The pale metal was forged in a twisting design that reminded Cassia of vines, or perhaps molten glass just about to become a piece of art. Twists of adamas near the top of the rod caged the moonstone.
“At Paradum,” Lio said, “in those moments before Rudhira arrived, I stood surrounded by Gift Collectors. I knew that by the time I broke through that many dream wards with my mind magic, Cassia would be…” He squeezed her hand and shook his head. “If I’d had a weapon like this, I would have had hope. I accept this gift with gratitude.”
Mak picked up a sheaf of notes from a nearby shelf. He rolled the papers in his hands, hesitating, then held them out to Lio.
Lio took the papers, his gaze darting across the first page, and his eyes widened.
“You know I’m no politician…” Mak muttered.
Lio raised a brow at him over the papers. “Now you are. This is a proposal for the Firstblood Circle to allow the Stewards to use more than fists.”
“If I can show on the battlefield that my weapons are of service to our people, I was hoping you would help me with the political part. You convinced the firstbloods to vote for the first Tenebran embassy to Orthros. If anyone can persuade them to approve armaments for the Stand, it’s you.”
“I don’t think any diplomat can convince them of that,” Lio said, “but a warrior like you can.”
“At least critique the proposal for me. If it sits all right with your conscience, that is. Just read it and consider it. That’s all I ask.”
“Of course I will.” Lio slid the papers into an inner pocket of his robes.
Lyros took up the spear. There was perfection in its smooth, clean form. “Mine turned out a masterpiece, my Grace. You’ve given these your greatest skill, strength, and magic. You should be proud.”
“I will be—as soon as one of them saves a life.” Mak picked up the morning star and gave it a few swings, then nodded as if satisfied. The spikes protruding from the ball looked deadly indeed.
Lio smiled. “If we hope for these weapons to become as legendary as the Blood Errant’s, they’ll need names.”
“So will our errant circle,” Cassia said. “What shall we call ourselves as we go on our quest in Hespera’s name?”
Mak looked thoughtful. “Nike says it was Methu’s idea to name the Blood Errant and their weapons.”
“Don’t let Lio choose any names,” said Lyros. “We’ll end up with a mouthful of specialized terms our enemies will need a glossary to understand, much less pronounce.”
“You wound me.” Lio put a hand to his chest. “As a bloodborn like Prometheus, I could think of suitably legendary epithets.”
“Unlike him, you are not a poet,” Mak teased.
“Lio appreciates poetry,” Cassia defended him.
“If your idea of poetry is a six hundred page scholarly treatise,” Mak said.
Lio held up a hand in surrender. “I’ll only make a suggestion, then. The most meaningful names are gifts from those who truly see you. Each of us could name our Grace’s weapon.”
Lyros nodded. “That’s fitting. Mak, you are their creator. Would you do the honors first?”
Mak ran his hand along the spear for a moment, thinking, or perhaps speaking silently with Lyros. “Night’s Aim, for darkness is protection, and you are always true to that purpose.”
Lyros’s aura stirred with emotion. “Thank you.”
“And mine?” Mak asked.
Lyros laid a hand on the shaft of the spiked club. “What could be more fitting for defending our homeland than a morning star?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Cassia murmured. “Orthros means ‘morning,’ the time when Hespera gives us rest.”
Lyros nodded. “Let our smith’s weapon be known as the Star of Orthros.”
Mak met Lyros’s gaze. “Thank you. Not just for the name. For supporting me in this mad endeavor.”
“Always, my Grace.”
Lio turned to Cassia with his staff. “And for an unlikely warrior’s weapon?”
She arched a brow at him and smiled. “Yours should have a name fitting for a diplomat. ’Final Word,’ for violence is always your last resort, and even in battle, you negotiate your victory on Hespera’s terms.”
He reached out and caressed her face. “Thank you for helping me keep sight of my true path.”
She held out her dagger. “What will our bloodborn call my blade?”
He traced the place on her palm where the sharp edge of her gardening tool had once left a scar. Now smooth skin, thanks to her Gifting, but she felt as if those blood rituals had left an eternal, arcane mark on her.
“Rosethorn,” he said simply. “There is no truer Rose of Hespera than our Hesperine Silvicultrix. And you know how I love your thorns.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I told them you’re a poet.”
“Worthy names for soon-to-be-legendary artifacts,” Mak approved. “Now you need a practical way to carry them.”
He retrieved scabbards for them from another shelf. When he handed Cassia a dark metal dagger sheath attached to a matching belt chain, she was surprised to find how heavy they were.
“Are these forged of adamas as well?” she asked.
“There is some adamas in the alloy,” Mak confirmed. “Nothing else would bear the weight. They’ll dampen the weapons’ magical auras, too, once we finish enchanting them.”
“We?” Cassia asked.
“If you’re willing, I’d be honored for all of you add your magic to our weapons.” Mak set his morning star on the table in front of Cassia. “Starting with you.”
“Me?” She took a step back from the spiked club. “You know how uncontrollable my magic is! What if I break the weapons?”
“They’re made of adamas,” Mak said cheerfully. “Nothing can break them. They’re the perfect, indestructible artifacts for you to experiment with.”
“What could my magic possibly add?”
“Think what happened when you channeled your Lustra magic at the Queens’ ward. Your power has a defensive instinct, especially in combination with Hesperine protection spells.”
Lyros put his spear on the table as well. “You’ve watched me enchant jewelry. You know the technique. You can imbue our weapons with your dual magic.”
Cassia turned doubtfully to Lio.
He laid his staff before her. You know I am always your willing test subject. And you did promise me another magical experiment. I cannot wait to test the results.
You and your insatiable appetite for research.
For researching you, certainly.
She looked around at all three of them. “Do you think there will come a time when having my magic in our weapons could mean the different between victory and defeat? If I enchant them, could it save lives?”
“Yes,” Lyros said. “Especially against the Collector. He told you himself that your magic is the most difficult of all paradigms for him to deal with.”
If Mak or Lio had said it, she might have thought they were being too generous. But Lyros was their military strategist, who would never risk the outcome of the battle by mincing words.
She nodded to him. “Very well. I’ll give them all the power I can. Let me try my dagger first, since it already has Lustra magic in it.”
“Good idea,” Lio agreed.
Cassia drew her finger along the sharp edge of the dagger. She gasped at the voracious Lustra magic that burst out of the artifact. The scent of roses filled the air. Vines coiled around her hand out of nowhere, their thorns raking her skin. Then they snaked out of existence, and she stood there watching her hand heal.
“Did it work?” she asked.
Lio rubbed her bloodstained knuckles. “It certainly did.”
Lyros nodded. “There’s a new enchantment on it that feels like Lustra and blood magic.”
“But what does it do?” she asked.
Mak grinned. “We’ll find out whenever the enchantment wakes up in battle.”
“Are you certain you want me to cast an unknown enchantment on your weapons, too?”
“Mine first, please,” Lio said without hesitation.
She examined the staff with her arcane senses. It reminded her of Lio and felt somehow connected to her, as he was. “All right, yes. I think I have a grasp on,,,I don’t know the proper term. It’s like an empty hole in the ground waiting for a plant. A place to root the enchantment.”
“A potential enchantment anchor,” Lio supplied. “Excellent analogy.”
“Right.” She held her spade-turned-dagger over her palm. “Brace yourselves.”
As she had so many times in past hours of need, she used her blade to trace a line over her palm. The libation edged her dagger in crimson, and she felt the other three weapons respond to her blood.
Her artifact’s Lustra magic flooded through her veins. She could channel out of the dagger itself, she realized. As the blade tapped the wilds, power spilled up through her feet.
The stones of Nike’s Sanctuary shook with the might of the Lustra. She heard pebbles skitter and felt the magic in the forge bubble. But holding fast to the dagger, she could focus the chaos.
She tried to guide the magic into the weapons one at a time, only to wrestle with the unruly power. Acting on instinct, she grasped three tendrils of power at once. There. That felt right. She let the triune spell grow in the weapons.
She set her magic deep within the bed of Mak and Lyros and Lio’s spells. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there training her enchantment, building up her power around it so it would grow strong as a living part of the artifacts.
At last, vines sprouted right out of the metal, as if adamas were the richest soil and blood the most nourishing rain. Black roses coiled along the shafts of each weapon. Then the plants suddenly disappeared, leaving behind a flurry of black petals. The Lustra slipped back to sleep beneath their feet. But she could now feel the presence of her magic in the weapons.
A smile overtook her. “It worked! I think that was my first successful, controlled spell!”
“That’s what we should call our errant circle,” Lio said suddenly.
She looked up at him.
“The Black Roses.” He wrapped his arms around her, looking to Mak and Lyros with a questioning brow. “What do you say?”
Lyros ran a hand down the front of Mak’s battle robe. “Black for Orthros’s protectors.”
“Roses for our Goddess.” Cassia’s gaze fell to the petals laying across their weapons.
“The Black Roses.” Mak gave a nod. “May the Goddess’s Eyes light our path.”
“And her darkness keep us in Sanctuary.” Lyros finished the invocation.
Then Mak’s gaze fixed on something over Cassia’s shoulder. At the stark horror on his face, she froze.
Slowly, Cassia turned and saw who had crept up behind her with light steps and ancient veils.
In the doorway stood the Guardian of Orthros.