Forged Steel

by H A Titus

  One of them stepped closer and shoved me away from the tent. The hope popped like a soap bubble.

  I turned around and held my hands up, making sure to keep a tight grip on the pistol. "Look, I'm just waiting for someone. I don't want any trouble." Nice clichéd line, Josh.

  Ghurdan mimicked me. "He doesn't want any trouble, Llew. If you don't want any trouble, mud boy, go back up to the Overworld where you belong."

  I glanced around the street. Everyone was completely ignoring the two fae. Neither David nor Eliaster was in sight. Llew grabbed my shirt and yanked me nose to nose with him. I slammed the pistol into his gut, using it to shove him away.

  He let go, huffing out a sharp breath.

  I stepped back, raising the pistol with both hands. "Stay away from me." Yeah, another cliché. How much you wanna bet he's not gonna listen to this one either?

  Ghurdan drew a dagger from his bandolier and licked it. The piercing in his tongue grated against the blade.

  Llew flicked his bangs out of his eye and reached down to his side, drawing my attention to the sword he wore. I groaned and clicked the safety off the gun. Before I could move my finger to the trigger, Llew drew his sword and slammed the blade into the pistol. The gun snapped from my hands. My fingers went numb. Llew grabbed my shirt again and pressed the edge of the sword into my throat.

  I grabbed his wrists and squeezed as tight as I could. His grip relaxed a bit, but not enough that I could pull free. "What did I do to you?" I demanded.

  "Llew!" Eliaster shouted from behind us.

  The fae spun, dragging me along with him. I stumbled. He yanked me to my feet, my shirt twisting around my neck. He moved the sword from my neck to my exposed stomach. The cold edge sent a shiver down my spine.

  Eliaster closed a hand over the hilt of one of his swords. "Answer his question. What did he do to you?"

  "Should've known you'd be along to save the pretty little Overworlder, just like you always do." Llew spat.

  Spittle sprayed the side of my face. The pulse in my neck hammered, fighting against the tightened shirt neck.

  Eliaster lowered his head. His voice deepened to a snarl. "Answer the question, Unseelie."

  "You draw on us, and I'll take your head, stuff it, and use it as a paperweight," Ghurdan said.

  "Ha. Get in the back of a very long line, crow-bait."

  Ghurdan took a step forward. Llew moved his sword from my belly to in front of his friend, holding Ghurdan back.

  I punched my elbow as hard as I could into Llew's diaphragm.

  The fae grunted and crumpled. Ghurdan roared and sliced at me with his dagger. I jumped back, tripping over the rough ground. Eliaster dove forward, smacking Ghurdan in the side with his sword. It knocked him several steps away from me.

  Llew scrambled to his feet, and the two Unseelie circled Eliaster, who calmly straightened and drew his second sword. Ghurdan and Llew both lunged at the same time, dagger and sword coming in at opposite sides.

  In one fluid motion, Eliaster ducked Llew's sword, dropped to one hand, and spun, taking out Ghurdan's legs. Ghurdan landed flat on his back, his head thumping into the dirt street. Llew sliced downward. Eliaster parried and rolled onto his feet out of Llew's reach.

  The Unseelie pressed forward. Steel on steel rang over the Market noise. Llew pushed Eliaster further out into the street. The pedestrians calmly stepped out of their way. Some continued on, and some stopped to watch. The two fae broke apart and circled for a brief second, then dove at each other again.

  Ghurdan staggered to his feet and drew another dagger. He pulled his arm back.

  "Eliaster!" I yelled. I dropped to my hands and knees, feeling along the ground for the pistol.

  A thwick jerked my attention back to the fight. Ghurdan dropped in a pouf of dust, Eliaster's sword sticking halfway out of his shoulder. He curled onto his side, teeth bared, eyes screwed shut in pain.

  Llew glanced over his shoulder. His swing faltered. "Ghurdan!"

  Eliaster slammed the flat of his blade into Llew's knees. Llew dropped to the ground. Eliaster kicked him in the chest, and Llew rolled close to his friend.

  Eliaster's hands shook as he grabbed Llew's hair and jerked him to his knees. He shoved his face close to Llew's, teeth bared. "Don't come near me again." He let go and stepped back, pulling his sword from Ghurdan's body. Ghurdan's eyes flew open and he screamed. Blood gushed from his now-open wound.

  I looked away, tasting bile at the back of my throat.

  "Come on, Josh."

  I left David's pistol lying in the dirt and scrambled after

  Eliaster. He shoved his swords in the sheaths and walked away. I glanced over my shoulder. Llew was crouching beside his friend, pressing his hand over Ghurdan's. He looked up, and even from that distance, I could see the murderous rage burning in his eyes as he stared at Eliaster.

  We slid down a narrow passageway between two tents and emerged in another dirt street. Eliaster glanced up and down. There was no one around. He stopped and rubbed his face, smearing streaks of dirt over his cheeks. Light green spikes of color gleamed in his eyes.

  "Are you all right?" I asked.

  "Yeah." Eliaster reached for the silver cross around his neck. He bent his head and pressed his hand with the cross in it to his lips. His fingers trembled.

  I stepped back, and my legs nearly buckled from under me. I looked down at my own hands. They were shaking as well. My pulse still throbbed loudly in my head, and I felt cold. I reached up and rubbed my neck. The skin felt raw where Llew had twisted my t-shirt tight.

  "Who were they?" I asked.

  Eliaster straightened. "Couple of Unseelie thugs who have it in for me."

  "What do they have to do with—"

  "As far as I know? Nothing." He dropped the necklace back underneath his shirt and started walking again.

  I caught up with him. This time, instead of pulling ahead and letting me follow him, Eliaster stuck close to my side. As we got to a busier area, and people crowded us from every side, one of his hands strayed to his sword hilt.

  After a few minutes, I said, "If those Unseelie are after you—"

  "Then they attacked you to get to me," Eliaster said quietly. "I know. Trust me, you're still safer with me around."

  I was beginning to doubt that. Is David right? I blew out a deep breath. For now, I had to stick with him, because it was the only way to find Marc.

  We reached an intersection with a big purple tent on one corner. I recognized it from earlier. Rather than head back toward the Market gate, however, Eliaster turned and headed back, deeper into the Market.

  I jogged after him. "Where are we heading now? Back to Roe's?"

  Eliaster shook his head. "No. Time for you to really learn what being part of the Underworld means. Time to get you a sword."

  Chapter 9

  A sword?

  Man, would it be cool. For a split second, I let myself imagine wielding a slick metal weapon, kicking, flipping, and bloodlessly beheading a hundred baddies. More like you'd be the one getting beheaded, idiot. You've seen too many cheesy kung-fu flicks.

  The image of Ghurdan slumped on the ground with a sword sticking out of his back popped into my mind. My gut turned. I shook my head. This wasn't a good idea. I'd end up cutting off my own head or something equally stupid, just like he'd said a while ago.

  "Are you coming?"

  I looked up and realized I'd stopped in the middle of the street. A few fae stepped around me. Eliaster stood on the edge of the street, glaring at me. I hurried over to him, and he started off, again staying by my side.

  "I don't need a sword. I'm not going to be doing any fighting."

  "Right, like you did back there?"

  I groaned. "Why a sword? Can't I just have a gun?"

  "Speaking of, who gave that to you?"

  "David."

  Eliaster growled. "He should know better. As for why you need a sword rather than a gun, most fae carry swords. Even if they carry guns, they t
end to reach for a sword first. You'd blend in much better carrying a sword. Plus, as Llew demonstrated, swords are much better in close combat. Therefore, you need a sword."

  "Oh," I muttered.

  Eliaster quickened his steps until he was walking several paces ahead of me, as usual.

  As we reached the heart of the Market, I noticed more and more permanent buildings—most just a simple wooden frame with roll-down canvas sides, but there were a few dingy brick buildings and one bar that looked like it had been cobbled together from scraps of corrugated metal and steel beams. This place looked worse than a refugee camp—but, if Eliaster had told me the truth, the fae were the original refugees.

  Eliaster ducked down an empty side street, then paused outside an open-sided building with scraps of metal cluttering the tables within. A fire framed in a brick oven-like structure crackled, throwing shifting shadows over the interior of the building. The light flickered off the dull, dark metal of an anvil sitting in front of the fireplace. The back of the building was closed off, and a door was set to the right of the fireplace.

  Eliaster pounded his fist against one of the wooden supports. "Opti! Are you here?"

  The door swung open, and a tall, heavily-muscled man with hair that stuck out in every direction poked his head out. He grinned. "Eliaster!"

  Eliaster started to step inside the shop and stumbled. He jerked away. "Where is it this time?"

  Opti pointed into the rafters. I looked up and could make out the faint glimmers of a chain hanging around the perimeter of the building.

  Eliaster sighed. ""Josh, meet Opti—one of the best swordsmiths around, even for being only half-fae."

  Opti nodded in acknowledgment of the introduction, but stayed beside the door. "What can I do for you, Eli?"

  Eliaster nudged me in the side. "Josh needs a sword."

  Opti looked me up and down. His eyebrows drew together, a deep U-shaped wrinkle appearing between them. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

  "Yeah."

  "I don't like the idea of a novice carrying one of my swords."

  Eliaster raised his eyebrows. "Oh come on already! I might as well have been a novice."

  "But you had at least grown up around the art. I can tell this one hasn't handled a sword in his life."

  Um, hello, dude? I'm right here.

  Eliaster slapped his hand over my mouth. "No, Josh, playing with sticks in the back yard doesn't count."

  That hadn't been what I was going to say. I punched him in his exposed ribcage.

  "Ow!" He jerked his hand away to cover his left side.

  "Crow-bait," I muttered.

  Opti burst out laughing. "Not many Overworlders have the guts to say that to a Sidhé's face. I'll give you one of my swords. Eliaster, you'd better keep an eye on him, before he goes charging out to take on Fear Doirich himself."

  Eliaster rolled his eyes but, strangely, stayed silent.

  "Now, which hand is your dominant?" Opti asked, motioning me inside.

  "Left." I stepped into the building.

  Opti pulled out a tape measure. "Stand still. Has Eliaster told you what kind of weapon you're getting?"

  "Umm, a sword."

  He pulled the tape around my waist. "Yes, but not any type of sword. Up until twenty or thirty years ago, the Seelie court didn't allow any fae to carry unconcealed weapons in the Overworld. Put us at a distinct advantage, of course, since the Unseelie do whatever they want. So I came up with a sword that incorporates some of the characteristics of fae glamour into the metal." He pressed the tape against the outside of my right leg. "Basically, unless you know someone is armed and you're specifically looking for the weapon, you won't see it."

  That must have been how I'd missed Marc, Eliaster, and Llew's swords at first. "Like a perception filter."

  His forehead wrinkled and he frowned. "What?"

  "Uh…yeah, forget I said anything. So, with the glamour, how does that work? Magic?"

  Opti's frown deepened. "That's a question a full fae is more qualified to answer. What we call magic and what they call magic…it's not necessarily the same. Better you ask Eli…if he'll give you a straight answer." He stood up and brushed off his hands. "I have something that might work—let me grab it." He disappeared into the back room of the shop.

  I glanced at Eliaster. He was leaning against one of the shop's supports, his arms crossed casually over his chest. I pointed up into the rafters. "Iron chain?"

  He nodded.

  "Smart guy."

  "More like paranoid."

  "Says the dude who doesn't sleep when he's in the Underworld."

  A quick grimace crossed Eliaster's face. "Opti has no reason to fear anyone. He's one of the most gifted swordsmiths in North America. Me, on the other hand—well, let's just say I've pissed off more than a few powerful Sidhé over the last few years. I have a reason to be paranoid."

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I thought half-fae couldn't use glamour. How does a half-fae make glamoured swords?"

  He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Glamour is part of what you humans would call 'fae magic'." He used his index fingers to make quote marks in the air. "Opti can't use it himself, but he has enough that he can imbue the swords with it."

  "And magic is…?"

  "The way some fae react with their environment. It's … hard to explain."

  I switched back to the first subject. "So why doesn't Opti get rid of the iron at least for you, if he's your friend?"

  Eliaster gave a bitter, grating burst of laughter. "Opti isn't my friend. Here's a good, general rule to keep in mind in the Underworld. Just 'cause you're on the same side doesn't make you buddies. Got it?"

  A shiver prickled my spine. Was that Eliaster's shot across the bow, warning me not to rely on him too much? Did that mean that once I was no longer an asset to his little team, he'd stab me in the back? His eyes were calm, his face relaxed but impassive. He didn't look like he'd just delivered a warning, but it might be such a part of his everyday life that it didn't faze him any more.

  Opti came out with the sword and handed it to me. I couldn't help but grin as I ran my thumb over the soft leather sheath and bronze-colored hilt. The sword was a little longer than the length of my leg between hip and knee. I squeezed my hand around the leather grip, then carefully drew the sword and weighed it. It was a bit lighter than I'd expected, but still heavy enough that I'd feel it after swinging it around for a few minutes.

  "So, what do you want for this?" Eliaster asked Opti.

  "Why don't you teach a month's worth of lessons to some of my customers?"

  "Too much. How about once a week for a month?"

  "Please. You think that everyone can make glamour swords as good as mine?"

  I sheathed the sword. "You don't have to trade for me, Eliaster. I can do it myself."

  Eliaster snorted. "You can pay me back."

  I tried to protest more, but the two ignored me and continued bartering. Eliaster finally walked away with promising to come in once a week for three months to teach, as long as his other work didn't get in the way. Opti seemed more than satisfied as we walked away, me fumbling to strap the sword belt around my waist.

  "Treat that sword as befits the tool of a hero," Opti said to me as we left the shop. "Remember, you're the first Overworlder to own one. Don't take that privilege lightly."

  "I'll try," I told him. "Thanks."

  Opti waved the words away and disappeared into the back of his shop again.

  I caught up to Eliaster, who was waiting for me on the corner. We walked for a few minutes in silence. The clunk of the sword against my leg felt good, and despite myself I grinned.

  Eliaster cleared his throat. "Now, about payment."

  I groaned. "I should've known you wouldn't let it rest long. What is it? Some fae oath that will make me your slave for the next seven centuries?" I remembered reading about deals like that. And David's words rose to my mind.

  Eliaster grinned and sh
ook his head. "Nah, nothing like that."

  "You're enjoying my ignorance, aren't you?"

  "There are times." He turned serious. "All I ask in payment is that you swear on your honor to keep the fight against the Lucht Leanúna going."

  I laughed. "Yeah, I think you'll be around a good long while to ensure that that happens."

  His eyes narrowed. "You can't count on anything around here. I'm being serious, Josh. You need to take this seriously, too."

  I stopped dead in the street and faced him, feeling blood rush to my face and neck. "Look, I can accept that the Underworld is never going to leave my life now. I accept that fae will forever be trying to kill me or ask me for help. But you didn't want me involved in the first place. All of a sudden, you want me to be your protégé. What is your deal?"

  Eliaster's lips parted. His eyes narrowed. He shrugged and walked past me, the shoulders of his black leather jacket drawing together close to his ears. "Forget it."

  I pulled at the buckle of the sword belt. "If that's the condition that this comes with..."

  Eliaster shook his head again. "No. You'll need that—hang on to it. Consider it a gift from someone concerned about your welfare."

  He shouldered his way into the crowd. I shrugged and followed him. Fine, I'd hang on to the sword until this was over. But I wasn't going to be indebted to him forever. When Marc was rescued and the relic found, Eliaster would find the sword with his stuff—or maybe stuck in his back, if he kept annoying me. He couldn't ask me to keep fighting for something that wasn't my concern.

  I was not a hero.

  #

  Thirty-nine.

  I tapped my pencil against the paper. Addition hadn't worked. Subtraction wouldn't work, for obvious reasons.

  I glanced up at Eliaster, who slumped in his customary over-stuffed chair by the fire. The fae hadn't moved or even looked at me since we'd gotten back. In fact, he'd acted like a pouty five year old. Totally pathetic. How had even-keeled Marc been friends with this guy?

  Thirty-nine. Thirty-nine.

  The numbers in the cipher whirled around my head. What glued them together? They were so … random. No pattern that I could see thus far.