Horizon (In the Absence of Kings Book 3)

by Lee LaCroix

  “Come! Let us help them up. Let us get them back to Erawal,” Ayden ordered as he threw the arm of one man over his shoulder, and the others did the same, and they all made a slow trek through the moonlight towards home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  With a pop, a sizzle, and the familiar smell of smoky wood, Kayten was glad to be back in the presence of the forge and the furnace. She had sought out the help of a man, Galdi, one of the conspirators from last night’s raid, who happened to be a blacksmith as well. He was more than happy to help her with her requests after the success of last night’s attack, which had the streets, residences, and markets of Erawal filled with people, conversation, and hope. She looked down beside her to two buckets; one of vibrant red sand and the other of clear water. Kayten had been drawn there from a dream.

  Perhaps, she thought, it had been the tossing of flame that brought on that vision. She recalled spraying bloodfire ore upon her enemies and seeing them dance alight with surprise and pain. It was a quenching satisfaction for her anger, which was only soothed completely later that night. In her sleep and in her head, she saw those flames again. Only this time, she held them in her hand like a ball of fire that was fed from the surging blood in her fist. The image of the flames of the forge on her shield seemed to burn as brightly as well. In the dark of her dream, she was surrounded by enemies, and she moved to throw the ball of fire at them. Only as she did, the fire extended in a long stream and took form. As if as natural as breathing, she clasped the hilt of a fiery sword and spun it around her, unleashing a powerful wave of flame that incinerated her foes. With her surprise and delight, she awoke from her bed with a smile and knew what to do.

  She had traveled back to the Bloodsands early that morning, too excited to sleep any further, and collected a bucket of bloodfire ore and two of the Vandarian steel swords she found lying around. Now, she stood looking into the furnace where the swords melted, and she waited to extract their precious metal before continuing. Having no molds for a functional sword, Kayten had to make due with what she could find. With the guard, the pommel, and the wrapping of the grip removed, the blades of the two swords were bare and blazing hot. She placed them upon the anvil and began to pound them together. She smashed them together until their original forms were unrecognizable; only a long and wide piece of near-molten steel remained.

  When the two swords were one, she began to hammer the length and thickness she desired and stared at the blade with the intention of what she wanted it to become. She raised her father’s sword to her sight and compared the two. As much as she loved the man and the weapon he had made, this new one would be in every way superior. The blade was beginning to take shape, and she wanted this sword to be longer and wider—even heavier if need be— now that she was experienced with the weight of a weapon. She left the blade to cool on the anvil as she made her way to the quenching barrel and looked inside. Galdi had provided her with a long, slender tube filled with quenching oil, originally used make iron rods to strength woodwork.

  “Well, here goes nothing,” Kayten spoke as she poured the bucket of bloodfire ore inside.

  The ore pooled at the surface for a while, having trouble mixing in with the viscous liquid, but soon its mass disappeared entirely within. She found an iron rod, stuck it inside the quenching barrel, and swirled the liquid around, mixing the ore and the oil thoroughly. The oil was tinged an eerie blood red as Kayten placed the red-hot sword inside of it, and the blade hissed in protest.

  “So far, so good,” Kayten thought as she left the blade to sit for a time.

  She remembered the anxiety she felt when the swords Dawnbringer and Darkbreaker had undergone their own quenching process. As she had made many blades since then, she had no sense of nervousness. This time, her worries were replaced by excitement. She could hardly wait as the blade cooled, so she decided to move onto creating the hilt.

  She took the remaining metal of the two guards and two pommels and melted them together into a solid mass. She separated the mass into two pieces, leaving the largest for the guard; if this sword would act as she assumed, she would need an effective guard to shield her from the heat that the blade threw off. Usually constructing rectangular guards that separated the grip from the blade, Kayten opted for a circular one wide enough to it extend all the way over her clenched fist. The pommel, the end piece of the sword that was balled or blocked to prevent the wielder’s hand from sliding out, she made a similar circular piece. Unconvinced with their shape, which to her resembled a slice of melon, she began to carefully scrape at their sides with a file while holding their blazing core with tongs. With some patience, she bent the outer rim of the pommel and guard into smooth edges and their shape soon resembled billowing waves of flame. She finished these just in time to take the cooling blade from the quenching barrel.

  Dark as night and glimmering like rubies, the blade of the sword sparkled as it came out of the barrel wet with oil. Even when the oil spilled off the blade, thick and crimson like blood, the blade retained its unnatural redness. The bloodfire ore had merged with the steel just as Malic had said. She recalled what he had also said about the bloodfire ore exploding if it was managed wrong. She took her hammer from the watery bucket, cooled from its stay in its depth, and began to work.

  Now that the two blades were completely solid, she went to shaping the sword into the design she wanted. She began at the sword’s point, flattened the edges, and then trimmed off the tip, leaving a sharp point. Sparks flew off the blade as Kayten made her way down its length, hammering its sides to a thin edge, but the blade did not ignite. The watery coolness surrounded Kayten’s hand as she reached into the bucket to grab a piece of grindstone. Although using a slippery piece of grindstone to sharpen the blade would have taken much more time because of the lack of contact, a water-drenched stone was the only way she could work with the blade without igniting the ore within it.

  The blade of the weapon was eventually shaped and sharpened, and Kayten slid the guard and the pommel into place, forming the hilt. She was impressed but not at all surprised when they fit snugly, and she moved to appropriate the strips of leather she had taken from the Vandarian swords. Using the supplest parts of the leather, Kayten wound two pieces around the grip and palmed it into a suitable snugness. Already, the blade was beginning to resemble the one from her dream. There was no way it would shine with a fiery edge unless she gave it that last coat of oil, however. When the hilt was completed, she placed the sword inside the quenching barrel and waited for the oil to form a lasting coat and to seal the sword’s explosive power within.

  “So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” Ilsa said as she walked into the smithy from the street.

  “Ah yeah, I’ve kinda been busy working,” Kayten replied as she took off the smithing gloves.

  “On what, exactly?” Ilsa asked as she moved further and looked into the bucket of blood red.

  “Oh, you’ll see soon enough,” Kayten stated as she shooed Ilsa away from the setting sword.

  “Well, hopefully it won’t be too long. We need to be moving on. You know who waits for us. Ayden says we can leave just after noon, but he’s meeting with more people now,” Ilsa explained.

  “Alright, this shouldn’t be too much longer,” Kayten replied as she looked over the sword.

  Ilsa waited against the shady pillar of the smithy while Kayten began to tidy where she had worked. She had swept up the shavings, deposited the scraps into a box, cleaned the anvil, and polished all the tools. She thanked Galdi for letting him use his shop, and he stood around and waited to see what the first woman smith he had met was making. Kayten looked around at them and nodded, and she withdrew the sword from the quenching barrel. Ilsa’s eyes widened, Galdi gasped, and Kayten stared in wonder as the crimson red blade emerged from the oil. Where the blade was once dark like steel, the bloodfire ore had fused with every crack and every pore, and the sword was now as crimson as the ore had once been. The oil itself had reverted completely t
o its previous state, for no traces of the bloody red dust remained in its dark brown hue.

  “Well, let’s see what this blade can do,” Kayten said with a smirk, raising the sword before her.

  Kayten ran a grindstone along the flat of the blade. As she thrust the sword forward, the edge burst into flames. The fire held onto the blade without blackening it, and a lasting flame hovered across the edge and the core without spreading down its length. With a delicate flick of the wrist, Kayten moved the blade around. To her surprise, the blade spat tiny spurts of flame around, extinguishing the blade’s fire but sending it around the smithy. Ilsa and Galdi jumped as the flame flew towards them and stamped it out before it could consume the man’s shop.

  “You’d better be careful with that thing, miss. At least in here,” Galdi scolded, but he could not help but be fascinated with the blade.

  Kayten made a face and nodded before she slid the blade through a ring on her belt; a proper scabbard would have to wait until later. She thanked Galdi a final time, and they said their goodbyes, and Kayten followed Ilsa back to Ravol’s house where the community meeting had just finished up.

  “Welcome back,” Ayden offered as Kayten and Ilsa walked in the front door.

  “Is that… don’t tell me, that is?” Ayden stammered, noticing the sword at Kayten’s side.

  “It is, and I can’t wait to put it to real use,” Kayten boasted with a smirk and nodded.

  “Well, you’ll have your chance. We will leave any minute now, but we will not be alone,” Ayden explained.

  “How is that?” Ilsa asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “I have told the others about your quest to travel to Andalvia to save Garreth and Novas, and they wish to travel with us to help. They believe if we can free Nacosst and Erawal then perhaps Andalvia can be liberated, and perhaps, all of Kal’resh,” Ayden chattered.

  “Ayden, we will do all we can to help you, but you must know that that is not our pursuit,” Kayten explained as she crossed her arms across her chest.

  “Yes, but that is theirs, and that is mine. We already have twenty volunteers, and they say we can find many more in the city. Family and friends, they say,” Ayden explained.

  “Well, we cannot stop you. I hope you can still honour the duty that was pledged to you in Nacosst though,” Ilsa lamented.

  “I can, and I will. Have no fear. This is for the best, I am sure of it,” Ayden said with a nod and turned back to his fellow allies.

  “Come, fellow Kal’reth! We ride for Andalvia, and for victory!” Ayden yelled to a response of yipping and cheering.

  The noonday sun was hot as the camels trudged along in the desert, and Kayten was already missing the cool waterside of Erawal that she had left behind. The caravan of horses, camels, and donkeys that had left the oasis city just over an hour ago was led by a merchant named Karon, who claimed to have traveled across the seventeen sand seas of Kal’resh. Behind Kayten, Ayden and more of his vocal supporters revelled over the wide expanse of the desert with a tone to their conversation more akin of a trip to a wedding than a war. Silent and watchful, Ilsa rode next to Kayten pondering the same thing that she did: how they would save their loved ones in Andalvia.

  “So, got any bright ideas?” Kayten called over to Ilsa.

  “None that are applicable. We have yet to see Andalvia. How will we know what to do without knowing the place?” Ilsa explained.

  “I suppose you are right. Not much to do now but to stay calm and rested,” Kayten lamented.

  “From what Karon has said, Andalvia is a city and is more akin to Amatharsus than Nacosst. And as the city that borders on the peninsula, I can imagine the Order’s presence there will be quite large. It will take more than a rallying of locals to remove the Vandari from there,” Ilsa explained.

  “But that is not our purpose. Our purpose is to rescue Novas and Garreth,” Kayten affirmed.

  “Yes... yes, it is,” Ilsa agreed with a nod before gazing off into the desert again.

  The caravan traveled for quite some time without seeing a single shred of civilization. The only green to be found was that of cacti, which seemed to be plentiful in rocky, shallow valleys. In the southern distance, giant mesas rose to the sky over the dunes, surrounded by jutting hoodoos like candles around an altar. Kayten was relieved as they made their way into another valley; another crack in the ground surrounded by multi-shaded layers of land and a pebbly bottom. They decided to set up camp in an offshoot of the valley, a flat area with cover from the wind. Ayden dropped off a tent to Kayten and Ilsa before rejoining the rest of his allies. The tent did not take the two long to figure out, for its contents were only five pieces. A mat for sleeping on was placed first. Then, a wide circle of log held a singular tent pole in place, and the tent fabric was placed squarely on top of the pole. The tent was tightened to the ground with large spikes, expanding the length of the room. The two women had their tent up in no time. Soon, they stored their gear and found a place at the fire.

  “So, we know of our mission to free our brothers and sisters from the shackles of the Vandari, but what are you two doing here? I have a feeling you are not of Kal’resh,” Karon asked as the circle soon became quiet with the approach of the two women.

  “Karon,” Ayden seethed.

  “No, no, it’s fine,” Ilsa remarked as she held out a hushing hand and placed it on her chest.

  “We, Kayten and I, and two men named Garreth and Novas came to Kal’resh from an island called Malquia to pursue a man wanted for an assassination attempt on the leader of our military, Berault. Our ship was sunk by the Vandari outside of Nacosst, and we were separated and found ourselves aided by Ayden, his friends, and family there. Before we could continue on our mission to find the killer, we were bound to help those who had helped us, and we helped free Nacosst from the Vandari. It was not long before Kayten and Novas found Garreth and I in Nacosst and admitted they had been travelling with the killer in disguise. This assassin appeared in Nacosst with a two hundred man army. While the citizens of Nacosst, with help from the Malquian military, defended the city, Garreth and Novas were subdued by the assassin and taken away. We believe that the assassin is headed to Andalvia, which we have been told is a place of foreign power. It is now Kayten and I’s mission to rescue the two men, and we hope to find the killer nearby,” Ilsa explained.

  The Kal’reth listened intently to the tale and looked amongst each other but said nothing.

  “Without the help of Garreth, we would not be sitting here and making our way towards liberation. It was Garreth who planned the first strike against the Order in Nacosst, who overtook the garrison and gave the people there hope for change. It was his voice that led our forces in Nacosst to victory. It was with his strength that I came before you to ask you to help me this way. It was his will that I take up a sword. I have not known him long, but I sense something in him that I have never witnessed before, a greatness. And while the rescue of our people is my highest priority, I will not leave Garreth and his son to their imprisonment as long as I stand,” Ayden explained, looking around at the men and women around him.

  Ilsa nodded and made the smallest sliver of a smile, but she was choking back tears inside. It was good to know someone understood Garreth as she did and fought alongside her to see him free; she was glad she allowed the youth to journey with them.

  “While we appreciate any support you can give us, I’m wondering if anyone has a plan to begin with. Where do we start?” Kayten asked, weaving and unweaving her fingers.

  “There are so many of us, we could take up every single room in an inn. There are some buildings in the western quarter built tightly against the seawall, near the stairway to the harbour. We may be able to rent one. I am sure there is enough coin between us. The landlord will have his demands, but I will see to it that we come out on top,” Karon explained.

  “Lodging is definitely a concern. These buildings will not attract attention?” Ayden asked.

  “They borde
r the main strip between the harbour and the market, so any traffic is primarily commercial. Seeing strangers or gatherings along its way should not be strange,” Karon spoke.

  Ayden nodded at his reasoning.

  “That is enough for me for now. We cannot know much about the state of the town without being there. At least, we will not have a street sleep on arrival. Rest well,” Ayden spoke as he stood up from his place next to the fire and retreated into the shadows.

  There was a round of farewells. Some stayed to stare at the fire, and others, like Kayten and Ilsa, made their way back to the tents for sleep. Ilsa rolled on her side and watched Kayten as she worked away at unbuckling her armour.

  “This Andalvia sounds like a pretty big place. Are you nervous?” Ilsa asked.

  “Nope. Not at all. Just like venturing to Amatharsus, I’m going for a reason. That drive will see me through, as it always has,” Kayten replied before she kicked off a shin plate.

  “Sounds like you’ve got yourself figured out,” Ilsa said, smirking as she lay down on the mat.

  “The only other person who knows me is a prisoner. I cannot wander aimless while he remains that way. I do this for me, and I do this for us,” Kayten explained. “Do you not feel the same way about Garreth?”

  “Garreth is my love, yes, but he is more than a man. He is the spirit of change like the passing of seasons. To Garreth, the idea of journey is as natural as waking or breathing. Like a migration… not to a place, but a state of harmony. His methods and ideas are not unjust, and he has given up serving himself long ago. Like the rain, he washes away the filth that builds by simply passing over it. I must continue to support him where I can, for the world changes in his wake,” Ilsa explained.

  “Yes, he seems to have that effect on things,” Kayten sighed as she pulled away the last splint of armour and fell onto the mat as well.

  “Do you think they’re alright?” Kayten asked, turning her cheek to the floor.