“I see. Tends to happen,” Cladius said, but he knew there was more to it. He cleared his throat. “So, did this boy really kill those two?”
“Yes.”
“So they’re all kids. All the ones causing the trouble.”
“Yes, they are, very dangerous, huh?”
“Have you seen them?”
The cleaner swallowed.
“No,” he said, his face turned a little paler than before.
“Haven’t you?” Cladius raised an eyebrow.
“No. I mean, I remember the girl from when we captured them all. You know, blondes are not that common back in Itruschia.”
“So she’s blonde.”
“Yes, and she’s about fifteen or sixteen.”
“What else?”
“I think she was the daughter of the main goldsmith, blacksmith. The man really did everything. They lived at the top of the hill.”
“And what about the husband?”
“Well, they say he was a citizen. Mother was Gadalian, father is a general up north.”
“So a traitor.”
“Yes. And… Something else.” The cleaner lowered his voice.
“These people who resist hold them as some kind of prophesied kings.” The man shook his head.
Cladius paused, and for an instant looked at the boy. He quickly turned back toward the cleaner.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Felix, sire.”
“Felix. For how long are you staying here?”
“A month, sire, then I’m going back to normal duty.”
“Will they let you keep the same rank?”
“Yes.”
Cladius put his hand on Felix’s naked shoulder.
“Talk to me when you’re free.”
“Thank you, sire.” Felix smiled faintly.
Cladius left the prison lamenting not being able to help them. Or could he? Maybe he was being cowardly. No. His way of doing things was at the negotiating table, not there. But he was alone. All the others were on Larius’ side.
But as he walked at night through the streets of Adachia, even though their bodies were hungry and their spirits were down, he knew the numbers were on his side.
At night, the first meeting of the Committee was held at the village’s tavern. Larius ordered half the reserve of goat milk, to celebrate the end of an era. A great feast was served with perhaps the last valuable cattle of the land. A chilling breeze filled the air, carrying the scent of grilled fat.
“So, how’s your research going, fellows. Florianus?” Larius asked, holding a vase of goat milk.
“The state of the Legion is still good,” Florianus said. “Eight casualties on our side so far, two of whom were devoured by a bear. One missing was confirmed dead. The presence in the forest has quietly increased, but we haven’t found the terrorists yet.”
“Only the mute boy. When’s his execution?” He asked.
“I believe it’s at the end of the week.”
“Bastards.” Larius shook his head. “Alright. We’ve got to move on to other topics. Cladius? Please.” Larius signalled at him with a smile.
Cladius cleared his throat.
“Tomorrow I will inspect the workshop on top of the hill.”
“So what have you been doing all day?” Larius asked.
“Just getting to know the village, the people, to know what I’m working with.”
“I see. So this is the way you work. Fair enough. Just don’t get too friendly.” He let out a loud laugh.
“And…” Cladius said. “I was thinking of importing hemp clothes. The women’s industry was quite good.”
“That plant.” Larius squeezed his lips. “It was also used in some rituals. Those rituals we referred to.”
“We’re talking about the roots.” Cladius continued. “Have you seen the quality of the fabric? It’s quite good. It is similar to silk if sewn properly. Perhaps we could offer it as a cheaper alternative.”
“Well, the distributors from the Great Trading Road won’t like it.”
“So?”
“We’ll think about it,” Larius said, clearing his throat.
Cladius’ eyebrows raised.
“And… So… They haven’t found these people. Have they? The terrorists,” Cladius said.
“No,” Floranius said.
“How often have they checked?”
“They do routine checks. They send a few soldiers here and there,” Florianus said.
“Did they not get my orders?” Larius asked. “I told them to scan the whole thing. What if we send a full on invasion?”
“Invasion?” Cladius raised an eyebrow.
“Hold it right there. I know what to do.” Larius stood up. His one eye sparkled in the light. “I know.”
“What?” Cladius asked anxiously.
“We can’t find them? Big deal. We’ll burn down the whole thing.”
“Burn it? Burn what?”
“The forest of course. Besides, we need to make way for farming fields. Keep that in mind. Why don’t we do it now?”
“But… The forest, it’s important,” Cladius said.
“We’re changing everything here. But, you’re right. Let’s do some hunting ourselves before. You’re correct, there’d be no fun in it if we burn it all now. We’ll enjoy some hunting before the winter gets too cold. More fuel to burn.”
Cladius swallowed.
“And we’ll start hunting right away. About these bears. I love hunting them stinking bears. Let’s hunt them all first, and display them in the town square, along with those stinking forest rats that keep killing the soldiers.”
Suddenly, Florianus clapped.
“Yes. Let’s solve these problems once and for all,” he said.
“That’s my boy,” Larius smiled.
Chapter XXV - The Forge
That night, Irema sat behind Alana under the torch’s fire and the tunnel’s gloomy pillars and tied her hair into tight braids. Kassius painted a new stave on her arms and legs, like ancient runes and symbols of planets and stars. Alana’s body ended up looking like a stellar map drawn with red ink. She covered herself with the blue overcoat, they said a prayer to Venus, and bid Irema farewell.
Alana climbed the ladder into the great and cold forest. “Blast!” Alana said, lantern in hand, as she pushed the hatch open and frowned at the falling snow.
“What is it?” Kassius asked, a few feet below her.
“It’s snowing again,” Alana said, pulling her body up and scrambling through the hatch.
“At least it’s not a snowstorm,” Kassius said, following her outside and extending his hand to capture minuscule snowflakes on his fur glove.
“It’s a bad sign,” Alana said, rolling her eyes, staring at her fur coat, now covered in melting white.
“Not bad in the least,” Kassius said.
“How so?”
“Well, I heard about these things, that fire and snow make stronger metal.”
Alana sighed.
“Let’s get going, my legs are freezing.”
Kassius nodded.
They started their march up toward the village with lantern in hand. After crossing the dark forest, they put out the light when they could see the village’s dim fires through the branches.
“We still have to walk up,” Alana said, peering through the bushes, as her old home towered like an abandoned beacon. A new, precarious roof had been constructed on top, too feeble to resist a serious snowstorm. She stopped, enthralled by the memories of pain. The last time she had been there she had seen her father’s arm on the ground. His legacy defeated. Now, entering her home, to reclaim it in a way, stirred her soul with rage and love.
“So, let’s go up,” Kassius said, waking her up from the trance.
Alana nodded and looked at the hill below. A pair of soldiers sat about a hundred yards below, reclining against the walls and
chatting. They had to jump from the bushes and cross the road to the other side. They only had to wait for the right moment and pass unnoticed. The falling snow and the murmur of the wind could shield their steps from their foes.
“At the count of three,” Kassius said. “One, two…”
“Wait!” Alana said, lifting her hand. Kassius stared at her, confused. Silence surrounded them, until they could not hear anything but their breath and the murmur of falling snow.
“What is it?” Kassius whispered.
“Can you hear that?”
“What?”
“Now!” Alana whispered and jumped out of the foliage.
Kassius followed her closely. She ran up the hill and hid behind a wall. Kassius stopped by her. “Ala,” he whispered. “I can hear it.”
Alana shook her head. How could it be possible? She had thought she heard it in her mind only, like a distant memory or a window into the world of the deceased. It was the sound of hammer and anvil, of iron clashing together. Her heart was filled with yearning. She started running again. They soon reached the house and waited with their backs to the wall. Now, it was more than clear.
“Who’s hammering at this time?” Kassius whispered to her.
“Let’s find out,” she said.
She turned around and raised her head up and peered into the workshop. She saw a young man clumsily hammering a piece of iron. She clenched her fists.
“Who is it?” Kassius asked, hand on her shoulder.
“That boy,” Alana muttered through clenched teeth. “The apprentice. Oh, how I hate that guy!”
“I see,” Kassius said. “Is there a chance we can walk in and do the classic move?”
“You mean what we did to Felix?”
“Yes,” she said. “We can do it.”
“And then?” Felix asked.
Alana swallowed.
“Well, we can knock him out.”
“Have you ever knocked anyone out? Either he may die, or we may just have to keep punching him until he does lose consciousness.”
“Then?” Alana raised an eyebrow.
“I say we just blindfold him and keep him on the side,” Kassius said.
“And then he will recognize my voice and tell everybody.”
“Alright,” Kassius said. “Let’s just get in, you get to work on the sword, and I keep an eye on him.”
“And we’ll have to come back to keep working on it for at least a couple of days. How do you plan to do that? It could even take us a week.”
“A week?” Kassius raised his voice. “How do you think we can do that, do you want to rent the workshop during the night or something?” he asked sarcastically.
“Fine. Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
The loud clashes between iron and iron started again, and synchronized with it, Kassius opened the wooden door. They step inside the warm building and quietly closed the door behind their backs. Alana felt strangely welcome in her old house, but things had changed a bit. The images of the Bear God had disappeared. Alana noticed a wooden structure, and in it, she saw some of her father’s old weapons. A few cooking daggers, the tip of a lance he used back in the steppe, and the beautiful dragonblade. The old dragon armour was not hanging ornately on the ceiling like it did a few weeks before. It had been removed.
Alana tiptoed through the small alley and peered into the workshop. There, she saw Fabyan with his back toward the door, his hair black and unruly, gloves and hammer in one hand, and the other holding the iron holder, as a fiery piece of iron lie over the anvil.
Alana and Kassius repeated the procedure, advancing one on each side, one step at the time, she had the scarf in hand, ready to gag him and gain control of him.
Fabyan kept hammering. It seemed to cause him pain, and he lowered his arm and then rotated his elbow and sighed. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
Alana paused for a moment, as the noise of the anvil was not hiding them anymore.
As Fabyan turned, he recoiled in horror, stepping back and holding onto the hammer.
“You!” he screamed, holding the hammer threateningly.
“Yes, me!” Alana said, quickly unsheathing her black dagger.
“You’re the traitor!” Fabyan said, lifting his hammer higher.
“No, you are!” Alana said, the dagger pointed toward him.
“How am I the traitor? Now, drop your knife or I’ll scream, and soldiers will come through the door,” Fabyan yelled, his features showed fear and angst.
“You won’t do that,” Alana stepped forward, and Fabyan had nowhere to go, as a step behind would be too close to the furnace.
“Oh, believe me I will,” Fabyan said.
“Well, I will puncture your entrails before you can say a word. And if you do. Be ready to die for your beloved Empire. Bleed to death for it.”
“No, you won’t threaten me.”
“Or...” Alana lifted his hands. “Decide.”
“No, no, no!”
Alana jumped forward and pushed the knife to the boy’s neck. Fabyan dropped the hammer and it bounced on the stone floor.
“Or we can reach an agreement,” Alana said into his hairy ears.
“No agreements with traitors,” he grumbled.
“Traitor?” Alana whispered. “I’m not your neighbour. They killed my father. Does it feel good on your conscience? We were so good to you. He…” Alana pressed the knife harder, threatening to cut his throat. Fabyan gasped, and a drop of blood slid over his neck. “He was so good to you that he would teach you instead of his only daughter. His only daughter. Even though you’re stupid and have no talent, he would try his best.”
“I… I...” Fabyan started to breathe like a tired dog.
“Now, you could repay us. We won’t hurt you. But...”
“Alana!” Kassius yelled behind her. “Make him swear.”
“Fine. We are giving you a chance,” Alana whispered in his ear. “Do you swear an oath not to turn us in, and we will let you live.”
“I...”
“Do you respect anything in this world? Swear it on your mother.”
Fabyan swallowed. “I swear on my mother’s honour that...” He blinked. “That I’m not.”
“That you’re not going to turn us in.”
“That I’m not going to turn you in,” he repeated.
Alana looked at Kassius in the eye. He nodded, and she put the knife down.
“What do you want?” Fabyan asked.
“I need to make a sword.”
“Make? Just take one and go!” he put his hands on the anvil. The red hot iron was still on the side with the pincers attached. “Leave me alone.”
“No, it’s not that simple. I need to make one.”
“Make?” Fabyan shook his head. “How can you make a sword?”
“I’m better than you, and you know it!”
“Don’t be...”
“And why are you hammering that iron so late in the night?” she asked him.
“Because,” he turned his back. “I’m in charge. I have to produce something because they’re coming for inspection tomorrow.”
“Inspection?”
“What do you think?” he turned toward her, distress in his voice. “They’ve come. The governor himself. I think he ordered the attack. He’s come with his people.
“He did what?”
Alana raised her head. A sudden pulse of hatred entered her soul.
“He ordered the attack on the village,” Fabyan repeated.
“I see.” Alana grasped the dagger firmly. Suddenly, her holding it took a new meaning. She wished she could dig that dagger through the man’s heart. “Now,” she looked straight at Fabyan. “How is your production going?”
“As you see, very slow.”
“We’ll help you with this and… I will make my own. Alright? Do you have enough wood to keep the furnace up through the night?�
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“I do.”
Fabyan took a deep breath.
“Fine,” Alana lifted her chin. It was time to work. “Kassius, would you mind finding a nice piece of iron to use? From that pile over there.” She pointed at a wooden chest with many bits and pieces in it.
“What’s a good piece?” Kassius asked.
“I will do that. Then you help this guy with the hammer. Just hit it to make it even and flat. Fabyan will tell you how to do it.”
“Fine,” Kassius muttered.
Alana approached the chest and knelt to remove the pieces.
“So...” she said, as she removed a straight rod that seemed to be of fine steel. “Perfect!”
“No,” Fabyan said. “That’s the only twisted steel piece we have.”
“But I can’t use iron.”
“What’s wrong with iron?”
“Steel is better.”
“Ala, they didn’t have iron back then.”
“When back then, how do you know?”
“Books.”
“You and your books. Go on, hammer that iron bar.”
As Alana pawed through pieces of gold and iron, she came across a remarkable piece. It was a small plate shaped like an arch, it had a small sunflower engraving.
“Oh, sweet Venus, I had not seen this one before.”
She lifted it carefully. The sunflower handmade pores representing the seeds, and the petals were designed with small incisions that made them pop and look like the real deal. Around it were designs of trees and hard Latin letters engraved in them.
“What caught your attention like that?” Kassius said, clumsily hitting the piece as Fabyan stretched his own arm.
“It’s a golden ornament my father made. It’s really pretty. I think it’s a piece to adorn the crosshead of a ceremonial sword or something.”
She sighed and looked at it. One thing with iron, it required skill but also strength. But she felt incapable of creating something as beautiful in gold. If only she had been trained instead of that boy.
“Let me see it,” Kassius said.
“Yes,” she stood up. “There’s something written.”
“Oh, that one,” Fabyan said. “He never told you?”
Sword of Ares Page 20
