Page 92 of Forged in Fading

“Meeting with the chief. I’ll let you two finish.” His words were clipped, and he stalked off toward the chief’s smallest hall, leaving the two of them in restless silence.

Alvara’s stomach dropped as she watched Boden’s form shrink toward the center of the town. “I didn’t need you to be strong or take away my grief, Pyry.” All the things she had waited years to say crumbled one by one. It had been easier to hate him than to even begin to try to understand his actions, but it was time to let go. Move forward. “I just needed you. But things are different now. I’m doing…better.” And she was, more than she had even begun to realize. “The way things ended, the work it forced me to do on myself—I wouldn’t change a moment of it.” She turned to him and took in that face, those eyes that had once been such a comfort. “We can agree we’re different people now and leave the past where it belongs.”

He trained his gaze on the ground. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I think you should work with the local weaponsmith. He could use the help. I can speak with Boden about it so he can translate between the two of you.”

“Hmm.”

That sound was never good. “Out with it, Pyry.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, shrugging, which he never did. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s just…he cares for you.”

His statement meant little because Boden cared about everyone, except maybe Pyry. “And?”

“Just an observation.”

This elf and his riddles. “The weaponsmith. Tomorrow?”

She was both surprised and delighted to find Kat chatting with Boden when she arrived for the meeting. Her friend rarely joined these discussions; she focused her efforts on honing the skills of the demi-elves and scouting King Einar’s forces, while Alvara’s presence was always requested by the chief due to the binding nature of their blood oath.

Boden began the meeting, speaking first in Elvish, then the human tongue. “We have decided that it’s necessary to risk sending a messenger to the witches for their foresight into the king’s plans.” He inclined his head toward Kat. “If they agree to scry for us, it may give us invaluable information that could turn the tide of the coming battle.”

Volahem, the realm of the witches. Who were notoriously bloodthirsty and closed off to outsiders. “You’re sending Kat?” Alvara asked. “Alone?”

“Kat is part witch.” He said it with a tone of boredom, as if he were ordering a meal at a tavern.

“I’m sorry—part witch?”

Kat picked at her fingernails. “I have a tiny amount of witch blood in me. It means I can visit them from time to time when I feel like it, without being in too much danger.”

“Kat, your grandmother runs one of the covens,” Boden said.

“WHAT?”

“Don’t remind me. She likes to bring it up every time I see her, always trying to get me to join their sisterhood. Also, Cilia is there, and she still seems to think we’re together, even though we’re clearly not. It never ends.”

Boden continued with the meeting as if Kat’s words weren’t the strangest thing they’d heard all day. “We will also need to work on reinforcing Gosibik’s surrounding wall and possibly inscribing it with runes in a second attempt to slow King Einar’s forces down. Chief Frigar is sending his men to other towns to ask for aid and to warn them of what may be coming if we don’t succeed. His hope is to invite the other chiefs here for a meeting about the coming war.”

Alvara raised her hand and promptly dropped it. This wasn’t the Ilmanir academy. “The humans’ weapons. I stopped by the forge today, and things could use major improvements.” A lull hovered where Boden should have translated her words. “Are you going to tell the chief?”

“I’m doing my best to find a way to phrase it that won’t be perceived as an insult,” he grumbled.

“It’s not an insult. It’s a fact that their weapons need to be improved or they won’t survive. Maybe we can speak to the other chiefs about using their forges and blacksmiths for increased weapons production. And Pyry and I can help the weaponsmith here.” Some part of her wanted to cringe when she said his name, but she wasn’t sure why.

“Pyry?” Boden practically spat out the word. “I thought he wanted nothing to do with the demi-elves and humans.”

“Do you two need some privacy? Because⁠—”

Alvara spoke over Kat. “He’s changed. Or at least changing. He helped the refugees in the Eskenti settlement, and he’s willing to help the weaponsmith.”

“Doing one good deed rarely means someone has changed,” Boden said through his teeth.

“You don’t know him, and this is all beside the point. It wouldn’t even matter if he was a selkie who had dragged elves to the bottom of the sea. The humans need better weapons, and he’s willing to help.” Alvara tugged the hem of her tunic tight. “You and I will take him tomorrow. End of discussion.”

“I would much rather deal with a selkie,” Boden muttered. He relayed her words to the chief, who grimaced but nodded.

“Great, it’s settled. I’m hungry,” Kat said, skipping away as if she wasn’t about to meet with a coven of witches.