Footsteps came up the steps, and it was not Enright. Amyu mopped her face, and stuffed the cloth away.
“Amyu,” Atira came up through the trap door and walked over to sit beside her. She looked around the top of the tower with a satisfied smile, then turned to Amyu. “I have been looking for you.”
Amyu resisted the urge to look back out at the departing army. She met the warrior’s gaze bravely. Atira was tall and fair of hair and face. She was the Bonded of Heath of Xy, and a well-respected warrior.
“Heath said that you need a sword re-forged,” Atira said. “The Crystal Sword of Xy?”
“Yes,” Amyu nodded. “Do you know how?”
“I don’t,” Atira smiled. “But I know someone that might.”
Amyu followed Atirathrough the streets of the city, until she led her through a large wooden door. Amyu stood dumbstruck in the doorway of the forge, staring at the men laboring over red hot metal.
Atira glanced over her shoulder at her, and laughed. “I had the same reaction,” she said. “Come, we will get closer.”
It was as if all the elements danced at the big man’s command.
The heat hit her first, like a blow to the face, heat so hot it dried the sweat that formed. The air held an acrid tang.
The room was huge, with stone walls and a high vaulted ceiling. Heavy wooden beams arched over the room. There were clusters of men and boys around the walls, working at tables. The noise battered at Amyu’s ears. Each group worked on something different, but her eyes were drawn to the ones in the center.
The greatest heat came from the furnace in the middle of the room, where a circular stone ring sat, covered by an arched dome. She could see flame flickering within the openings. A young man worked some sort of odd wooden and leather thing up and down, and the fire at the center danced in response, crackling and swaying with his movements.
“That’s the fire that Dunstan uses to heat the metal.” Atira raised her voice to be heard over the noise. “The apprentice works the bellows, see? It keeps the fire at the right heat.” She pointed to three men, working close by the fire. “See the anvil? That large metal piece there?”
“What are they doing?” Amyu asked.
“Making bolts for the new ballistae.” Atira stared at the forge, desire raging in her eyes, awe in her voice. “Heath as Warden had given orders for hundreds of them.”
“You have worked down here,” Amyu said, knowing full well that Atira had.
Atira just nodded, seemingly lost in thought. “I am going to make swords.” Her voice rang with quiet determination. “I will forge such blades that Singers will praise them for centuries to come.”
“First you have to advance past making nails.” A woman came up to stand next to them, a welcoming smile on her face. “Who is this, Atira?”
“Ismari, this is Amyu.” Atira said, still staring at the flames. “She has questions about re-forging a sword, so I brought her here.”
“A sword?” Ismari frowned. Amyu noticed that while she was Xyian she wasn’t wearing skirts. And her hands were calloused and rough, with a few old burns. Her eyes were bright and curious. “Well, Dunstan is the expert, but he will be at the fire for a while. Show it to me, and let me see what I can tell you.”
Amyu reached for the pack on her back, and pulled out the basket containing the shards.
Ismari took it, and her eyes went wide. “Is this the Crystal Sword of Xy? In a bread basket?” Her voice was hushed. She looked around, and pulled Amyu toward a nearby door, hustling her into another work area. “Let’s not give the apprentices more to gossip about than they already have,” she said.
Atira followed, but her steps dragged. Amyu gave the blonde warrior a questioning look. Atira shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t get down here as often as I wish.”
Ismari had pulled a thick black cloth out and spread it on the table. “Dunstan won’t be long,” she said. “Let’s see what we have here.”
Amyu dumped the basket on the cloth. Ismari winced. But she reached for the hilt and put it flat at one end of the cloth. “Let’s see if it’s all here.”
It was. All the shining blue shards made a pattern, and Ismari had a gift for sorting them out. Once they were done, the sword was recreated, except in parts.
“Odd,” Ismari stepped back. “I would expect some of the smaller slivers to be missing. But it all seems to be here, and would go back together if you had a way to bind them.”
The door opened behind them, and Dunstan stepped in, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Atira, Ismari,” Dunstan rumbled. “What—” he stopped dead. “Is that the Crystal Sword of Xy?”
Amyu sighed.
After explanations, Dunstan shook his head, his regret clear. “I know of no flame that would bind these parts together,” he said. “And that is a shame. It has always been part of the Monarch’s regalia.”
