Chapter Twenty-Seven #3
Pyetar sat on a crude wooden stool at the edge of the courtyard, carving something with a metal-forged dagger that she’d never seen him with. He wasn’t armored, just wearing his shirt loose at the neck. His whole body was more relaxed than she had ever seen him.
“Yeah,” she answered, body tensing.
“Show me.”
She hesitated, though she wasn’t sure why. But eventually her own temptation to truly try out her new forgings won over.
“Like yours.” Iryana formed her own dagger, very similar to Pyetar’s, then pulled the magic back.
“And a beast spear.” Iryana formed the long-handled, triple-bladed weapon, giving it a spin before releasing it for her bow instead. She couldn’t stop her smile. “And this will hopefully work nicely.”
The bow was partially strung when formed, and it only took a moment for her to slip one of the curved tips under her foot and bend the bow enough to slip the end of the string over the other tip. With enough practice, the Keeper thought she may be able to form it already strung.
“Antar had mentioned you had a deep well of magic inside you,” Pyetar said softly. “With all that, you could rival the strongest at the fort. With practice, of course.”
She grinned.
There hadn’t been a way to try firing the bow down in the temple, and she was excited to try it. Forming an arrow in her hand, Iryana nocked it, and drew back.
While an air-forged bow allowed for easier aiming and reduced drag, letting one shoot far more accurately at further distances, a metal-forged bow would give normal arrows a bit of extra force and power.
Some of the metal-magic seemed to cling to the arrows as well, if the metal-forged archers of the group were anything to go by.
Mezhimar’s arrows seemed to do far more damage to the dakii than ones shot from an air-forged bow.
But they had all used normal arrows, perhaps forge-imbued.
She imagined an actual arrow forging would do far more damage.
If she could hold it long enough. The further away a forging moved, the harder it would be to maintain its form. Even if they could hold it long enough, when the projectiles hit their target, the force would usually be jarring enough that many would lose control of the forging.
Perhaps she wouldn’t have enough control or be able to hold the magic at a far enough distance, but Iryana had wanted to try. She was too curious not too.
If it didn’t work, she could always forge the arrows into more daggers another time.
She could see Pyetar’s eyes widen as she aimed high above the temple walls and released. The arrow ripped away from her, the strain on her magic and control tightening painfully. Gritting her teeth, Iryana watched as the arrow made it about fifty feet before she felt it fall apart.
Iryana grinned. Better than she expected from a first shot.
“It should get easier with practice, and then I will be able to shoot further.”
“The whole thing is forged?” Pyetar asked with a hint of disbelief, reminding Iryana he was still there.
Pyetar walked up to her, and Iryana was momentarily stunned by how different he looked. There was a softness to his face that wasn’t normally there, a laziness to the way his eyes watched her, slightly hooded, and his lips parted.
“May I?”
Iryana nodded quickly and handed the bow over. It felt strange to have another handling her forging, disorienting almost. She could feel as he moved it, lightly pushing against her control.
Pyetar inspected the bow, running his hands along the limbs and grip, and then pulled the string back as if he were going to fire it. He knew well-enough how to draw a bow, his fingers grazing the corner of his mouth.
“I’ve never seen a metal-forging like this.”
She shifted awkwardly at the almost-praise.
“Many of the Kleesolds have air-forged bows, but they can’t forge the strings with the nature of the air magic.
I have seen metal-forged needles and cord, so I figured why not a bowstring if twisted right.
” Iryana shrugged, frowning as he continued to inspect her forging.
“And being able to rotate forged arrows—an endless supply basically—for as long as my magic holds at least, would be amazing if I can work up enough control and range.”
Combined with some regular arrows, it would be very helpful.
“It’s amazing. If anyone can figure it out, it’ll be you. You have enough stubbornness to make just about anything bend to your will,” he mumbled, and then seemed to realize himself and handed the bow back quickly.
Iryana pulled her magic back, the feeling of the metal-forged magic seeping back into her still felt strange. Tension lingered uncomfortably between them, and she searched for something else to say.
“I think I still have enough magic for a shield,” she stammered. “Like you.”
“That will be good, given your tendency to run off on your own.” His tone was dry, and then his eyes darkened slightly. “But you can’t trust it as much. I learned that lesson the hard way. It won’t be as strong as you remember. You’ll need to compensate for that.”
She nodded; she would have to practice that too. Then she looked around. “Are the other soldiers still here?”
“No. And they won’t be expecting us back at the fort so soon. It’s a long process and usually requires a bit of recovery. We could stay here longer, practice some more with your forgings.” There was a hopeful softness in his voice.
He seemed different there in the temple, away from the brigade, and she remembered what he had said about trying to leave before.
Iryana was surprised at how much she wanted to agree.
“No, I—” The reality of the world crashed back into her. “I could use a few days to stop by my family’s post. I’d need you to cover for me.”
She needed to tell her family, to share the temple’s location with them. It would be easier to map out on her own without Pyetar watching her every move. And she could use a few days of peace to consider what would happen after she told them.
He watched her, scrutinizing. Iryana stared back and raised her brows. He should know better than to expect her to explain herself. But Pyetar knew the valley better than anyone and was used to navigating it on his own.
“Don’t think you are invincible now with your forgings; you need to get used to them just like any weapon.
Keep your normal weapons ready if you run into any trouble.
” Pyetar didn’t look happy, but he wasn’t arguing with her.
“I will stay here three more days before heading out, so that’s your head start. ”
Iryana nodded quickly. She’d expected him to fight her on it, but she wouldn’t give him a chance to change his mind. “We’ll meet up at the fork in the river at the end of the Yuresh Valley?”
“Yeah,” Pyetar sighed. “I will draw you a map to the Yuresh Valley. It’s about a week’s journey. You should be able to make it the rest of the way.”
She forced herself not to smile. A map would make things significantly easier.
“Thank you, Pyetar.”
“Just be careful. Karvek will blame me if you don’t come back.”
“Of course,” she answered quickly, something twisting in her gut.
But what if she didn’t return to the 18th?
Would she need to after her family had the location of the well?
There was still the war Karvek was planning to keep an eye on, maybe avoid.
But she couldn’t say for sure. It might be the last time she would see him, and that was a confusing feeling.
She would regret what Karvek would do to Pyetar if she didn’t return, but her family came first.
There was a tightness to Pyetar’s face that suggested he knew she might not come back, but he was trusting her enough to let her leave. Did he really have that much trust in her? Guilt weighed heavily on her.
They stood there awkwardly, looking around the temple courtyard.
It was Iryana who broke the silence. “I am going to pack up and get going to take advantage of my head start.”
“Alright.”
The tension was returning to his shoulders.
She took a few steps toward the small room she had slept in her first night, but looked back at him. Would she see him again after leaving the temple?
He watched her back, and it almost seemed like he was wondering the same thing.