Treachery in Tarnstead (Stoneblood Saga Book 5)

by Robyn Wideman

  “I can wait. A black steel sword is worth any wait. Especially a sword made for me. We have northern villages we trade with, but they mostly make spears and long swords. Not the kind of weapons for me.”

  Nathan smiled. “We’ll just have to make a weapon that is perfect for you. What style blade?”

  “Are you familiar with Creytan scimitars?”

  Grabbing a large piece of parchment and a stick of charcoal, Nathan started to draw a blade. “Do you want it as wide as a Creytan blade? With blade steel I can go thinner and lighter.”

  “Yes. That would be excellent. I met a Creytan pirate once. I loved how light and balanced his blade was. And it just looked mean.”

  Nathan finished his drawing, “How does that look?”

  “A little more of a point on the back side of the blade.”

  Nathan adjusted the drawing.

  “Yes. Just like that.”

  Nathan looked at the drawing. She was right it was a mean-looking blade. Now that he knew what she wanted the real work would start. Nathan grabbed a handful of witch oak chips and used a magic spell to start the fire. Having magical abilities had its perks. Without them it would take a significantly longer time to get the fire to the proper temperature. Next, he selected an iron rod and placed it into the fire. Glancing over at his work bench, Nathan examined the rough drawing of the scimitar, he plotted out in his mind how he intended to achieve the gentle curves of the blade and then the more aggressive one on the back. “How often do you use a two-handed grip?”

  “Occasionally. But I prefer to keep one hand open for spell casting.”

  Nathan noted her answer and returned his thoughts to the blade. The iron bar was almost ready to be worked. He grabbed a mold he’d made for placing the graphite and carbon flakes in and set it on the work bench. His father had never used a large mold, but he also refused to make swords, so he had no need for one. Nathan didn’t share his late father’s aversion for making weapons and had started building his own set of tools, using techniques learned in Amradin and from Balta. Grabbing tongs and hammer, Nathan started working the iron rod, each blow of his hammer flattening it out more into something that resembled a weapon. Placing the iron back in the fire, Nathan took his mold and filled the bottom of the tray with the minerals. Taking the iron back out of the fire he placed the iron rod into the mold, then lifted and flipped the flattened iron so that both sides were covered in the minerals, the blend of graphite and carbon stuck to the heated iron, and as he hammered the rod the metals worked their way into the iron. Heating the metal, flattening it out then folding it back onto itself Nathan focused on his work. When he was younger he’d never realized that it was earth magic that enhanced his ability to mold the metals, but as he grew to understand the nature of his magical abilities under the tutelage of the late Balthazar he realized just how much it affected his blacksmithing, just like his ability to cut through rocks. Nathan often wondered if the blacksmiths of olden times were users of earth magic. Some of the most famous black steel blades were hundreds of years old and of a craftsmanship that couldn’t be beaten. There were many blacksmiths in Northern Solotine who could make black steel, but not one would put his best blade against some of the old blades. Even with his magical abilities Nathan wasn’t sure his blades could match up with those of the legendary blacksmiths of old whose weapons were given as gifts to kings and queens the world over.

  Examining the blade, Nathan was satisfied that it had been folded enough and started to focus on working it into the desired shape. His hammer struck the metal repeatedly, and his magic flowed through his hands as the hammer subtly changed the metal with each blow. When the blade finally looked done, he heated it one last time before placing it on a stone bench to slowly cool.

  Looking up, Nathan realized Camille was still there watching him. He’d been so focused on the work and the magical bond between him and the metal that he’d forgotten she was watching him. “You’re still here. Sorry, I get caught up in my work and not very social.”

  Camille shook her head. “No. It was a pleasure watching you work. I always wondered about black steel, the really good stuff, and if it was magical, and now I know. Magic practically radiates off you when you are working. I find earth magic so intriguing, so powerful and subtle. The average layman might not notice the difference between one of your blades and that of a northern smith who doesn’t use magic, but it is there. When you are working it is almost like you are casting a spell, your concentration and focus remind me of a mage more than a blacksmith."

  Nathan had never thought of the process like that before, but it was true. In many ways his focus was more on the magic than the actual physical process of making the weapon. “How long have we been in here? I tend to lose track of time when I’m working.”

  “I’d say half a day.”

  Nathan frowned. “And you’ve been here the whole time? Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Starving, but I didn’t want to miss a minute of watching you make my sword. At first, I was excited to learn you were willing to make something for me, but now that I know it is a sword forged with earth magic I am truly honored.”

  Nathan smiled. “And we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

  Camille’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What could be better than a black steel sword forged with earth magic?”

  Nathan lifted a finger. “Wait here.” He went into his sleeping quarters and into his hidden stash of gems. There were only a few remaining from the original gift he’d received from his grandfather, but there was one in particular he had in mind for this project. Taking the gem, Nathan returned to the blacksmith shop.

  “Close your eyes, and put your hand out,” Nathan said as he approached Camille.

  She eyed him suspiciously but put out her hand and closed her eyes.

  “This is going to hurt a little, but keep your eyes closed,” Nathan said as he nicked her wrist with the tip of his dagger, just enough to open the tiniest of cuts.

  “Ah, what the heck,” said Camille. “Wait, are you using my blood?” She opened her eyes as Nathan was wiping her blood onto the stone.

  “Hey. You were supposed to keep your eyes closed.”

  “Are you crazy? Bloodstones are just as interesting as watching a sword being made.”

  Nathan laughed. “There isn’t much to see.” He then used the dagger on himself, adding drops of his own blood to hers. He then closed his hand around the gem and focused on sending magic into the stone. When he was done he wiped the gem clean and handed it to Camille.

  “Seven hells, Nathan, that is an emerald. You aren’t giving that to me. It is too valuable.”

  “I’m making you a magic sword. It kind of needs the bloodstone.”

  “Don’t you have something less valuable lying around. Don’t get me wrong, I want a magic sword but that is a honking big emerald. It’s the size of my thumb.”

  “My grandfather gave me a bag full of gems to use. This is one of them, and it is the only gemstone I have that will work.”

  Camille looked closer at the gem then closed her fist around it. “Gods. I can feel how much magical energy is in it.” She then opened her hand and examined it once more. “Why only this one? What makes it so special.”

  “It’s the only one I have that matches your eyes.” Nathan wanted the gift to be special, and for Camille who was just as much mage as she was warrior, a magically imbued sword would have the most meaning, and like his father, Nathan looked to create beauty. The use of the emerald to match her stunning green eyes was a natural fit.

  Camille bit her lip, as if she wanted to say something but then changed her mind. Finally, she spoke, “Let’s go get some food.”

  For a moment, Nathan thought she was going to kiss him, but the moment was gone, and the mention of food was welcome. The physical and magical energy needed to forge the blade had to be replaced, and the best way to do that was eat. “Yes. Let’s eat.”

  In the kitchen they fou
nd Maggie who was preparing food for dinner. “Hello, Nathan. You missed lunch again. Working in your smith shop again, were you?”

  Nathan smiled at the friendly cook. “And how did you know that?”

  “You smell of witch oak and sweat. Pull up a chair and I’ll fix you something.”

  Nathan chuckled. “Sorry. Next time I’ll change my shirt before coming here.”

  “Don’t be silly. It isn’t an unpleasant smell, and I know you are probably going right back to your forge after you eat, so what would be the point.” Maggie looked at Camille. “You must be Camille. I met your mother this morning. Lovely lady. I’m Maggie.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Maggie.”

  “Your mother tells me you have a taste for the spicy. I have a jelly spread you might like to try.”

  “That sounds delicious,” Camille said.

  “Excellent. And I made up a batch of gwuala bread, so you can be my tester. I don’t trust Nathan here to tell me truthfully if it isn’t as good as the bread made in Layton. And don’t worry, Nathan, I won’t put any hot jelly on your sandwich.”

  Nathan smiled. He knew exactly what jelly Maggie was talking about and it had some serious kick. Her husband and Sharon were big fans of the jelly. Nathan could handle a little, but like the spicy klama in Layton, needed plenty of fluids to wash it down with.

  As Maggie made them a late lunch, Camille turned to Nathan. “What is next in the sword making process? Will you finish it tonight?”

  Camille’s interest in the smithing progress made Nathan smile. He’d had plenty of people be grateful for the gifts he’d made for them, but none had ever taken such a keen interest in the process. “Next, I use the grind wheel to finish curving the blade and get the edge.”

  Maggie returned with two plates. “Give that a taste, love. Let me know if I made the bread right.”

  Camille accepted the sandwich and took a big, and very unladylike, bite. She chewed it then let out a low groan. “Oh, that is good. A fine job on the gwuala.”

  Maggie beamed. “And the jelly? It isn’t too hot for you is it?”

  Nathan could swear that the hairs in his nose were burning just from being within a couple feet of Camille’s sandwich, but the girl shook her head.

  “It’s just right. I might’ve put a little more jelly on the sandwich myself, but it is delicious.”

  “A little more jelly she says. See, Nathan, this is a true connoisseur of fine jellies. You should learn from her.”

  “When I want to learn to breathe fire, she’ll be the first person I speak to,” Nathan said.

  Maggie swatted Nathan across the shoulder playfully. “Cheeky brat. Are you going to be at supper, or in your workshop?”

  Nathan glanced at Camille who was giving him a pleading look while stuffing another mouthful of food into her mouth. “The workshop. Camille here is a real slave driver.”

  Camille wrinkled her nose at him as she chewed.

  “In that case, I’ll fix up a couple more sandwiches for you to take with you. One with extra jelly.”

  Nathan watched as Camille’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Are you going to be okay? Should I leave you alone? You look like you are having an intimate moment with that sandwich.”

  Camille shot him an icy glance then turned towards Maggie. “This is absolutely divine. You are too good a cook to be working for a brute like this. Come to Layton where your genius would be appreciated.”

  “Thank you, darling. I’m afraid I could never leave.” Maggie then looked over at Nathan. “He is a bit of a brute, isn’t he?”

  Nathan shook his head. He knew when he was outnumbered. He rose and accepted the food basket from Maggie. Giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  As Nathan walked out of the kitchen with Camille one step behind keeping her eye on the picnic basket, he could hear Maggie calling out. “The scoundrel kissed me. Don’t be surprised if my husband doesn’t come calling to defend my honor.”

  Nathan smiled. “He knows where we’ll be.”

  Camille waited until they returned to the blacksmith shop before asking, “Her husband is going to come fight you for kissing her?”

  “No, but he might bring us a bit of ale. Ruphus is as sweet and kind as Maggie.”

  Camille laughed. “She’s wonderful. Like a little old grandmother fussing over you. And don’t think I was joking about stealing her from you. Her jelly is delicious.”

  “Tell me again why I am making you a sword?”

  Camille put her hands up in protest. “OK. You win. I won’t steal your cook. Now please finish my blade.”

  With a chuckle, Nathan checked the fire. It was still good and hot, the embers glowing, but he added another handful of witch oak to it.

  Sitting on a stool in front of the grind wheel, Nathan started working on the blade. Contouring it to give it the unique set of curves that it would share with a Creytan blade.

  “Why do you use witch oak?” Camille asked.

  “Witch oak burns hotter than any other wood,” Nathan answered.

  “But why does that matter? Other blacksmiths don’t need that much heat.”

  Nathan smiled. She’d been paying attention. “When you put a blade under heat you aren’t just softening, you are actually changing the metal. The iron rods aren’t pure, there are impurities. That is part of the secret of black steel. The additional minerals and the high heat. The resulting steel is harder, even now an ordinary blacksmith would have trouble hammering it. Northern blacksmiths are stronger and can wield a heavier hammer longer. Or in my case my earth magic makes the metal yield to my will.”

  “How is that different than Creytan steel?”

  Nathan stopped grinding for a moment to check the angle of the blade. Satisfied that he had it right he started grinding again. “Creytan steel is very different to Northern Solotine steel. In Creyta, and every other place that makes steel, they use great furnaces to melt iron ore and use charcoal to increase the carbon in the metal mixture. It’s a complex process meant to increase the carbon in the metal. In Solotine, our iron deposits already have a high carbon content.”

  “But isn’t that bad? Wouldn’t a purer iron be better?”

  Nathan shook his head. “The purer the iron, the softer it is. It is the other minerals and impurities that give it hardness. Without the graphite and carbon, our steel would be no better than ordinary iron weapons.”

  “You aren’t actually making a steel sword, are you?”

  Nathan grinned, Camille was a smart one. “Depends on who you ask. A blacksmith from Creyta would say no. But the weapons dealer would. Northerners never actually used to call our metal steel. It was traders who did that. Eastern steel is the best comparison for our metal as it is far superior to iron weapons. But no, it isn’t made the same way as eastern steel, but the results are very similar. Only our black steel is stronger and lighter.”

  “What about bronze? Is it better than bronze?”

  “Bronze is actually not very good. A high-quality iron sword would normally be superior. But there are exceptions.”

  “Such as?”

  Nathan laughed. Their conversation reminded him of Rose when they first moved to Balta. Everything magical needed an explanation. Every answer followed by another question. “Bronze melts easier and is easy to cast. Making weapons and armor easier to make.”

  “But if the weapons are inferior who cares how easy they are to make?”

  “They are only inferior if using traditional bronze. The best bronze was forged with magic. Making them as strong as steel.”

  “How do you know so much about this?”

  “My father. He didn’t tell me much about his own history, but he taught me all about the history of blacksmithing. Growing up, I knew more about metal than I did him. I had no idea he was a great warrior or the son of a great chieftain who became a king.”

  “You must miss them terribly, your parents. That would’ve been hard, finding out their secrets after they were gone
.”

  “Yes, I do miss them. Yes, it was confusing at first, and frustrating. I had two different families that I never knew about. Yet, now I understand why they did what they did. We had a peaceful life in our little village. If they hadn’t come here his enemies would’ve found us earlier. I wasn’t even born when assassins first tried to kill me. It was why they fled their old lives, so I would have a chance at a normal one.” Nathan put the blade in the fire and stood back while the metal heated. “It’s funny. I don’t know how my father learned as much as he did about blacksmithing. In some ways, his work was very much like other northern blacksmiths. But other things were very different. Did he just experiment to learn, or did he travel to other countries?”

  “Isn’t there anyone who can tell you more about him? You do speak with your grandfather now.”

  “Ailred is the one I need to ask. He was best of friends with my father, but he’s hardly ever here. He’s very much a recluse. Doesn’t like people, he’d rather spend his time looking for dragon treasures deep in mountain caves. Perhaps next time he comes to check on me I’ll ask him. I’m sure he has a tale or two to tell.”

  Thinking of his father, Nathan waited for Camille’s next question, but it never came. Instead they both just watched the fire, enjoying its heat and a comfortable silence. When the metal was red, Nathan pulled it from the fire and placed it in a barrel of salt water. The blade hissed, and steam rose from the barrel.

  “One of the last parts of making a proper sword. Heating the blade then rapidly cooling it. It hardens the blade.”

  “It is interesting to watch you work, but I could never be a blacksmith,” Camille said.

  “No?”

  “No. If I had to stay in the same place for days at a time working, I would be sad. I like hunting, being in the woods, exploring the mountains. Blacksmithing is important, but there is no adventure.”

  Nathan laughed. “True enough. Pulling the sword from the barrel, Nathan examined the blade. It was ready to be sharpened.

  A knock at the door to his quarters interrupted his examination of the blade. Nathan went to the door and found Kiana there.