The sun slowly traveled in a thin beam across the far wall of the blacksmith shop. Bursting through a gap in the dry and blackened oak doors. The heaving of the great bellows pumped the coals of the forge with air. Benedict remarked how they changed from a deep cherry to a yellow much like that beam on the whitewashed wall.
“There boy! You’ve stoked the fire good an hot now. Keep it going and I’ll get the steel.” The booming voice of Erebus Shieldheart rang out in that room like the ring of the anvil in the dull smoky air. They rolled the bar in the inferno of the forge heat dancing across their arms as they worked near the fire.
Benedict looked back at the crafting table where a silver Dragon Turtle sat. He remarked at the detail of the sculpture and silverwork, Mithril was rare but even more so was the heat required to bend it to the form required.
Its red eyes from two deep garnets seemed to stare back at him. He couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling around it. Like it called to him. A ember singed his arm making him wince and return his gaze back to the steel in his hand he was turning in the fire. Soon Erebus nodded in approval of the yellow white glow and called for him to bring it to the anvil.
Great blows were driven by Erebus and the great forgehammer he wielded in his massive hand. Benedict marvelled at his adoptive father’s arms. They were scarred from the years before Benedict, and strong from driving that hammer for as many as he could remember on top of that. He saw the glow of the steel in his kind, deep blue eyes surrounded by lines that told a story of hardship that never escaped the lips hidden behind his long moustache.
Erebus eventually stopped and motioned Benedict to lift the steel so he could inspect the rough shape of the sword. Benedict struggled to lift the blade of the greatsword thinking to himself how strong Zorin’s father must be to actually wield it. Erebus smiled slightly as he hooked the crook of the hammer under the other end to brace it. Benedict felt himself relax slightly.
“Good. This is good. Send her back back in the fire Benedict.”
For hours this cycle continued. Sweat had stopped pouring and kept a constant flow. All things in the room moved in rhythm with the pace of the blacksmith and his young apprentice. The door to the shop opened and a woman with dark hair kept back in a neat bun stepped in the bright daylight pouring onto the floor.
She swung a hip to brace the door as her hands were occupied. She carefully carried a tray whose contents were covered with a draped white cloth. A young girl a few years younger than Benedict skipped into the room, careful to keep distance from the two workers, but more importantly that fiery metal they held and its mother that birthed it, the forge. Her innocent brown eyes looked upon that fire with wonder, awe and ultimately respect.
“Lora, what have ye brought us love?” Erebus smiled and lowering the steel he picked up a towel. As he began to wipe off his hands he nodded with pride for Benedict to step away from the bellows for a much needed break. They had done well today.
The woman pulled back the soft hand woven cloth and the smell hit them before words could be said or eyes could see. The sweet smell of the fresh bread mixed with the smoked fish making Benedict’s pasty dry mouth begin to water. When his eyes fell to the pitcher of cool water though he could imagine how that first drink was going to feel. That became his priority.
As he began to pour a glass Cordelia his young cousin wrapped her arms around him in a big hug to the side, barely missing his precarious elbow steadying the glass as he poured. Lora kissed Erebus on his black sooted cheek. She laughed when she saw the brief clean spot she left and Erebus smiled at the small soot she brushed from a corner of her scarlet lips.
He thought of the years they had been together, how she was still so beautiful. Her raven black hair was showing some gray now and her eyes had similar lines. But her brown eyes themselves still shone with that fire he had always seen. She knew more than Erebus, he had thought on more than one occasion and to be fair she had proven it on many more than that.
He glanced at their children who were sitting now. Benedict had a fistf full of broken bread with a decent portion of the smoked trout hastily shoved in one side. He greedily was eating it while Cordelia was talking excitedly about meeting up with her friend Sophie later. They are such good kids. He paused as the fact Benedict was his adopted son washed over him briefly.
“His father would be proud, Lora. He’s gonna be a great blacksmith.” He beamed with a whisper in her ear. Her kept hair felt like silk across his cheek and smelled of the lilies in the front planters she was tending earlier.
“He’s a good boy.” and she looked into his eyes with purpose as she wore a wry grin.
“As is Zane.”
He rolled his eyes slightly and chuckled. “Yes. I suppose.” he said as he turned away. He reached for a bit of bread and fish before Benedict could completely eliminate it to himself. He thought of Zane, the older brother of Benedict. He was such a free spirit, was the kindest words that came to him. The boy was undisciplined, unfocused. Nothing like his brother. He lowered his eyes as he remembered. He was like the sworn sister of Erebus, the mother of both boys, Elona.
Zorin walked down the dirty alleyway with his hands in pockets, deep in thought. Or at least that was the plan. He wasn’t focusing on his eyesight where the ground passed lazily pebble by pebble. He was listening. He heard the window above creak to a close and a cats steps on the gutter by the rooftop. He heard the wind slightly pick up and could feel the dry arid draft against his cheek pull a little moisture as it went by. He could smell the rotting trash and stale beer behind the Tavern as he approached the rear entry to the kitchen.
There was one thing he didn’t notice though.
“Psst! Zorin!” a familiar hiss rang out from the stack of barrels. In response Zorin looked around before darting behind them.
“You ready?” The face was gleaming with mischievous excitement. In the dark shadow there Zorin could make out the familiar face of his best friend. His blonde hair hung at the shoulders, unkept and free much like his devil may care attitude. Zorin admired the boy’s courage and will. Zorin being the son of the local justice made him wary about taking risks but when he was with Zane he felt free.
The boys fantasized about moving to Port L’For one day and becoming pirates. To sail the seas with noone to answer to but themselves, completely free of the day to day of their small town of OallEnAkan. The town was small with a focus around basic trade for the travelling merchants and nomads in the local dry high plains desert like area.
The only tavern was the Howling Mountain Inn and the boys loved to sneak in and hear the stories being told. After all this was more exciting than anything else in this town they both thought.
Zorin looked at Zane and nervously nodded with a smile.
They snuck around the barrel stack to the shadow immediately to the left of the door. Zane tested the handle gently. It was locked. He looked at Zorin and nodded. Zorin took a deep breath and produced the lockpick Zane had given him as a learning tool. “How are we gonna open buried treasure if the chest is locked? Don’t wanna break the chest and have gold falling all about right?”
Seemed legitimate to Zorin as the picking up of that mess made his head swim. Zorin felt and listened to the lock. He could feel a grit of sand that had blown into the tumbler at some point. At least since the last time they were there. Brushing it to the size he slowly pressed and turned successfully disengaging the lock and freeing the door. Zane eagerly pushed the door open slightly and peered in. The kitchen was unoccupied, except for the large cauldron of rich stew slowly cooking on the fire. The smell was savory, and if it wasn’t molten he would stuff it in his pocket. He smiled to himself slightly at the thought of even trying.
Zorin outside the door could see his friends fingerless glove pressing against the door with his head inside at the shoulders. Zorin saw that horrible scar up his forearm. Zane had no trouble talking about it, and was pretty proud of it honestly. “Saved Benedict from the fire.” he had said. The fire that had taken Benedict and Zane’s parents.
Benedict and Zane were raised by Erebus and Lorahana Shieldheart along with their cousin Cordelia. Zorin knew they had come here 5 or so years ago and word spread fast of the new legendary blacksmith.
Zanes smile peeked back from the doorway “let’s go.”
They snuck into the kitchen ducking behind the baker’s pantry with stacks of flour from the mill to the south. The windmill logo with the angel wings always stuck to Zane as a neat image. Zane bounded up the stack until he could reach the rafters. Zorin quickly followed. As they crossed the beams Zane looked back at his best friend.
Shortly after arriving in OallEnAkan when they were barely 6 or 7 years old was when Zorin and Zane met. He remembers the mopey kid watching them unpack until he could sneak away and ask him his name. “Ariakan” the kid said.
Zane remembered laughing saying, “Way too big. How bout ‘Zorin’? Its got a ‘Z’ in it like mine! I’m Zane.” They both started laughing before running off to play, playing in the dreams of children with no cares of the world around them.
A hand grabbed Zane’s leg as he drifted off the rafter, snapping him to reality. Zane corrected and looked back. Zorin was silently chuckling at the almost mishap. Zane mouthed out a thank you before looking down the 12 foot drop to the table below. They had made it from the kitchen to the front of the store and the dining room.
They worked their way to the large bookcase rows in the back where they could descend to the floor to find their prize. They noticed only 2 tables were occupied. One was Elloeve Hawklight. A local elven ranger who periodically came into town. Sometimes would stop by to see Erebus and Lora but never for long. Zane then noted the Dwarves sitting at the other table. They were Hill Dwarf miners and well known ones too.
One was the Chieftain Ricaver Bearcharger
recognizable for his exceptional ugliness. His crooked nose perched below two sets of bushy eyebrows. His bald head reflected a bit of the sunlight that came in from the dusty nearby window. His usual council of Whitacin and Olacul were listening intently to his speech.
“I dunna care if its bad luck. The mine stays open! We’ve found worse than on old hallway anyhow” he bellowed.
“Chief, its not the discovery itself its the fear of what could be in there. The boys said it seemed to call to them in the darkness. Bad signs chief. Bad signs.” Whitacin’s white braided bead whipped slightly from his chin as he spoke in an almost pleading tone. Olacul stared into his mug hoping there would be an answer. Zane always though he was the thoughtful one. He never spoke much but would smile at the boys when they passed in the street.
Zane looked at Zorin who was snatching a bit of stale cake from a shelf. He grabbed a piece for himself. The boys knowing that if they stayed too long could mean trouble began their ascent back to the rafters and out of the Howling Mountain Inn. As Zane bit into the cake the spiced currants popped in his mouth. The brushed icing melted against his tongue but nothing could turn his curiosity from the discovery in the old mine.
Sophie was wiping down the small table used for lunch a few moments earlier. She had taken her plate and silverware to the bucket of soft flowery smelling suds and was purposefully wiping it clean. The house was so silent. She took a deep breath in as she looked at the front door. Waiting for something. Or maybe someone. She looked back and began to dry the dish with a dry white towel. She smiled remembering the towel as a gift from Lorahana Shieldheart. She was a talented weaver and seamstress afterall.
Her best friend was Cordelia and it wasn’t a secret that Cordelia’s cousin Zane and Sophie shared feelings about each other. They were both a little reckless and enjoyed each other’s spontaneity. Zane’s little brother Benedict would always encourage them to not do anything on the edge but with Sophie’s sister and Guardian off earning money and not at the house currently it was hard to walk the straight and narrow.
She wondered about her sister Kartilaan. She was a good 6 years older than Sophie meaning she was about 18 now. She was a talented Swordmaster with a longsword and when she was here taught Sophie as much as she could learn.
“Men are not to be trusted further than the end of your sword, Sophie.” She remembered her words of wisdom. She also remembers holding that sword at Zane’s chest and how he smiled back at her. She saw no malice, and something inside disarmed her. Months later he was her first kiss, and she was his.
She smiled as stood up and put the dish back in the cupboard neatly. She would go find them soon, her chores were almost done. She piled up the pan she had used to fry a little salted meat and scrambled eggs and double checked it was clean before putting it away under the tall dark wood cupboard. She thought of Zorin and wondered if his day was better than previous days. She could see the marks on his cheeks and when confronted would look away and change the subject hastily. Her sister had those marks when she would come back from a job sometimes.
A shudder ran up her back when she thought of his father Pallus. Tall, dark eyed and long black hair that hit his broad muscular shoulders. He was the local justice for the town. Deep booming voice that commanded respect and allegiance. Unwavering allegiance. He stayed in his house when he wasn’t travelling. Today he wasn’t in town due to some meeting Zorin mentioned. Hopefully that means Zorin gets a break she thought.
She cared about him like a brother. In fact these children Sophie, Cordelia, Benedict, Zane and Zorin were more of a family together than they were separately. Snapping back she pulled her blonde hair back from her face hastily with a quick bit of purple cord and took one last look at the empty house before running out to join Cordelia as they had planned.
The two girls were at the stables talking to a tall chestnut horse named buttercup as they brushed the cockleburrs out of his thick mane. They were laughing at a joke when Zane and Zorin appeared laughing.
Sophie smiled, “There you are, whats so funny?”
Zane wickedly smiled as he grabbed her hand. “Milady my First mate and I were just saying how we will sail out of Balifor upon the fortnight!”
“Zorin tossed him a grin, “I thought I was the Captain!” he jested as he mocked a gut punch on his friend. Sophie and Cordelia laughed.
Zane apologized and began to dream again talking of the waves and their freedom again. Sophie smiled, it sounded great. Zorin held onto it in his heart as truth though knowing it may not be, but he had to. Cordelia loved his stories and loved her cousins very much. They were her oldest friends and Zane for good or bad was the Oldest therefore the defacto leader. Though he never seemed to want it.
Suddenly as Zane was talking about pirates and treasure he saw Benedict turn around the corner.
“Hey Benedict!” Zane smiled at his brother. “You ready for some fun or what” Benedict was intrigued but was wary. Zane rarely had ideas of fun that were legal or at the very least questionable.
“There’s something in the old mine that the dwarves have found. An old hallway or something.”
Benedict protested. Zane poured on the charm. Cordelia soon joined as did Sophie. Zorin smiled at Benedict and slightly pleading said, “Come on. It’s not everyday something like this comes up. Besides today my Father is gone and some fun sure sounds great.”
Benedict groaned knowing he had lost the battle. Begrudgingly he followed the group as they walked north out of town towards the mouth of the old mine.