Chapter 23 #2
“I know!” Fee interjected. She mastered herself with a breath, stepping toward the blacksmith. “I know, big guy. Presentation is important. Which is why I brought Lia.”
Lia watched the Smith warily. He was clearly a passionate man, one who prided in his work.
It was a shame he never got to see who got the results of his labors.
Sympathy prompted Lia to speak. “I’m a Flameheart,” she said, her voice cracking when the man looked down at her.
“And I need a pen. So, you still get to do a presentation, right?”
The Smith studied Lia like she was a gem found in the rubble, analyzing her facets as if he could turn her about in the light. She fidgeted, that single eye making her feel exposed. Suddenly, her skin felt tight, the air restricted—
Kayce’s hand brushed against hers. The simple touch loosened her chest.
The giant’s face erupted into a grin. “Then this is a most excellent day. Any day is when you get to impart something on a life, no matter how small and ordinary it may seem. And Flameheart pens are the most special pieces that come from this forge.”
Lia blinked, the simple statement stunning her into silence. He wasn’t exactly wrong. It was always the small things, the random acts of kindness that moved people. Perhaps her moment of understanding did that for him. It warmed her chest further, her shoulders relaxing.
“Nothing in here seems small or ordinary,” Kayce said, deeming it safe enough to leave Lia’s side. He walked over to another wall, hands clasped behind his back to admire the display. “These are all no short of wondrous.”
He was right. Swords fanned out to form a half circle, blades polished to reflect the starlight.
Several pommels glinted with jewels, others were carved from different materials.
Had the Smith crafted the Norenthian swords held by the royal family?
Lia recalled how artfully done the lion heads were.
She looked at the Smith’s hands, wanting to ask, but keeping silent when he moved to stand beside Kayce.
“You’re too kind, good fellow. These are practice, but hopefully some will come to claim them in time.”
Kayce’s dark head tilted as he studied one sword in particular. It wasn’t the largest. In fact, it was one of the smaller ones. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the sword in question.
The Smith bowed. “I’d be honored.”
“It is we who are honored, truly,” Kayce argued gently before taking the sword down.
It shone just as the rest of them, the crossguard an elegant filigree of oak leaves.
Acorns dotted the detail, so small only the wielder could note them.
Supple brown leather wrapped the handle before ending at the pommel, simple but for a smooth stone, gray like a wisp of cloud trailing across a harvest moon.
Kayce’s hand wrapped around the hilt with confidence and he took several practice swings. Lia watched him work, recognizing the sequence he often did for practice when they were in their alcove. This time, her gaze lingered, studying the muscles of his back moving like water.
An elbow dug into Lia’s side, snapping her out of it. She glared at Fee, cheeks flaming, but the guardian only smirked.
“You wield it well.” The Smith had been analyzing the prince’s face.
Pausing in his strikes, Kayce’s thumb brushed over the pommel. “It’s well made. I know an excellent sword when I see it.”
Fee rolled her eyes. “If they start gushing over metalwork, I’ll fall asleep where I stand.”
Kayce scowled, but before Lia could speak in his defense, the Smith whirled on Fee. “You wouldn’t know a falchion from a cutlass—no, you wouldn’t even know a longsword from a shortsword!”
“Yes, I would,” she deadpanned, “those at least give it away in the name.”
A vein pulsed in the Smith’s temple. “Centuries, I have been trying to get you to see the art of what I do.”
“Honestly, I’m just here for the food,” she replied.
The two continued to banter back and forth, almost unaware of the others present. Kayce put the sword back on the wall before shrinking to Lia’s side. He didn’t take his eyes off the two celestial beings. “Are we this bad?” Kayce whispered to Lia out of the side of his mouth.
She shook her head, watching the guardian and the Smith go at it. The latter towered over Fee, but she didn’t give him an inch in their verbal sparring. Her personality was more than enough presence. Lia needed to put a stop to this. It seemed amicable enough, but Fee did mention singed eyebrows…
Clearing her throat, Lia raised her hand. “So, how do we go about making my pen?”
The two looked at her, banter stopping mid-sentence. Lia lowered her hand, suddenly feeling silly. She wasn’t in class or anything. Maybe she should trip again and fall into the star pit. That would save her from the mortification.
Kayce nodded toward the anvil, hands slipping into his jean pockets.
“What ore do you even use? I don’t see much steel lying around, but to be fair, pens are quite small.
” He caught Lia’s eye, giving her a small smirk others may have missed.
She answered it, embarrassment evaporating.
But then Kayce’s dimmed, his throat working.
The Smith clapped his hands together. Even Fee seemed less disgruntled, finding a seat atop the workbench.
“This will not take much time. I have several bases to choose from. Then comes the personalization, imbuing it with your essence and all. That’s a bit of a rub, but for right now, you get to see why my forge is here.
” He took long strides to the vat, grinning as he pointed down.
“Starlight, my friends. Every weapon, every tool of every story, is birthed from starlight. One of the core elements here in the Emperium.”
Lia followed his gaze to the swirling mass.
She struggled to understand, spying the sword Kayce just held.
The blade looked like iron and steel, elements of the physical world she knew.
Thinking back to Marcus’s endless chattering about space, she remembered that stars were made of hot gas—mostly hydrogen and helium, which were the two lightest elements.
“How?” Lia asked. “Hydrogen and helium aren’t even near each other on the periodic table—”
“She’s a thinker. Chronic straight-A kid. And they say her brother is the science whiz.” Fee shrugged, adjusting her goggles. “But, she created Norenth.”
Lia balked. How did the guardian know her brother? How did she know about her grades?
The Smith huffed a laugh. “She’s the one who crafted a fantasy world of floating ships and entire oceans in bubbles?”
Kayce choked on a gasp. “Bubbles?”
“Fine!” Lia waved her hands. “I’m not the one who should point out the impracticalities of defying physics.”
Perhaps it was time for a little faith.
The Smith brought out a small tray holding various rods.
They were bare, absent of any design or personal touches, roughly all the same length.
Lia selected a silver one, slender and slightly longer than the length of her hand.
He also brought over a pouch of stones, crystals carved to look like pen nibs.
“What calls to you?” he inquired, a sapphire lens flipping over his diamond monocle. “Feel it in your heart.”
Lia frowned. Her heart? If anything, she felt a bit hungry.
Not to mention she was in desperate need of a shower with all this hot and cold business.
But she set her shoulders, focusing on the crystals.
Several were clear quartz, a few soft pink.
There were blue ones, citrine, some utterly black.
None of them seemed to call her. What was she even waiting for? Something like indigestion?
She was about to give up when one caught her eye. It was faint—a small skip in her heartbeat. But Lia knew. That one was hers. “That quartz one,” she breathed reverently, drawn to it like gravity. As she stared at it, the tiny crystal began to glow softly.
His eyes crinkled, selecting the point that shimmered with opalescence.
“Yes, indeed.” That sapphire lens snapped back, a pink one flicking into its place.
The Smith turned the point over, studying it with awe.
“A powerful stone, indeed. A light cutting through the mist. Your ember has called to it.”
Once again the Smith’s words left Lia a bit off-kilter as he brought the materials to the anvil. He grabbed a pipe, pulling a lever alongside it. Air hissed as the other end of the pipe descended into the vat of starlight.
“We don’t need much. For this, several drops will do.” The Smith waved her over, taking down a leather smock and a set of goggles similar to Fee’s. He thrust both into Lia’s hands. “But here’s the rub I mentioned: you need to craft it.”
Lia halted halfway through tying the smock. “Excuse me?” The Smith was grabbing a mallet, looking over at her with an analytical frown before putting it back to grab a smaller one. Clearly, she’d misheard him. “The Order told me you would—”
“No, Lia,” Fee said in a stern, but gentle tone. “The Order said to see him. You need to make your own pen; all Flamehearts do. That’s how it bonds to you.”