Sword Bearer (Return of the Dragons 1)

I nodded.

“They’re preparing a feast for us. But first Kara and I need to take you to the armory, where the forge and smith are waiting. For you, and for your sword.”

I nodded. It felt good to see Kalle, to distract myself from my confused feelings for Kara. The sun kept warming me. If only I wasn’t so weak from hunger.

I let Kalle lead us now.

I heard the sound of a hammer and anvil as we approached a large limestone building. Carved into its walls were images of swords, and weapons, and strange machinery. And pictures of fire and a forge.

The smithy.

Looking with my third eye I could see magic here, the older, wiser magic of the master craftsman, of the smith at his forge as his father and grandfather the smith had been before him.

This was ancient magic — nothing that I had learned with my tutor, nothing that had been recorded in my books.

We entered through an old stone door, and the heat buffeted my face. The room was large, and the heat was everywhere. I didn’t need my third eye to see where it was coming from: a huge forge in the corner of the room, circular in shape.

In front of the forge lay a glowing hot blade being worked by a man, short and muscular. The smith.

His back was to us, and the sound from the hammer was deafening. Sparks flew from the blade as his hammer struck it. I didn’t think the smith could possibly hear anything over all the noise. Even so he turned to us as we entered.

“Hail, Anders, son of Tomas. I am Cullen, son of Johan son of Gregor, and farther back my mind refuses to go in this heat.”

He wiped sweat from his brow, and grinned.

“My grandfather told me that his great great grandfather forged a sword like this, but I will tell you something: if I die after forging this sword, I will die happy. Such a thing has never been attempted in my lifetime.”

“Will it work?”

“Does she look like a good clean blade to you?”

I looked at the blade. It glowed orange, was straight, and looked sharp and keen. “To me, the blade looks perfect.”

“To even an eye as sharp as yours, young Anders, she would. But look with your third eye, and you’ll see. We’re not quite there yet.”

I looked with my inner eye and blinked the other two in surprise. The blade looked broken, as if put together from different parts.

“Aye, it is quite a sight to see, still. Only when the hilt is on it, and your hand upon it, will the three blades become one, just as the three blood lines become one in you. That’s the theory, anyway. Today we will see if holds true.”

He made a few more blows at the blade. “Do you have the hilt, Anders?”

I nodded.

Cullen grabbed some tongs and put the red-hot blade into the fire. The fire seemed to get hotter.

“Hand it to me, then.”

I held out the wooden blade and metal pommel.

Cu

llen whistled. “Such a beautiful blade. What a shame her wood must be burned next to the steel which will replace it.”

Cullen stopped, and turned to me. “She is your blade, so I must ask you, young Anders. Do I have your leave, to burn your blade? She is a beautiful, magical wooden blade, the likes of which I would be proud to make.”

I sighed. “I barely used her. But she served me well. She saved my life and took that of a keiler, and it was with her that I defeated my blademaster.”

I grabbed the hilt of the sword and felt the blade almost leap towards the fire.