Page 53 of Chaos and Crowns

“So how do you forge weapons without hammers or anvils?” Odelle inquired.

“That’s the trick; you don’t forge bronze, you cast it,” Antony announced proudly.

Odelle frowned. “Forgive me if my metallurgy is a little rusty, but what exactly is the difference?”

“When you’re thinking of a blacksmith hammering a hot piece of metal into the shape of sword, folding the steel over and over to make it stronger, that’s forging. Casting involves pouring liquid metal into a mold to shape it,” Antony explained, glancing into the fire to check on the progress of the melting metal.

Odelle looked around for the mold Antony would use for her dagger but came up blank. “What do you use as a mold?”

Antony offered a conspiratorial smile. “That’s what we use the Light for. Traditionally, casting has many disadvantages. The shapes you can make are limited, and you often have little tabs leftover from the molds to file off. If you make a mold out of the Light though, what you can make is only limited to your imagination—and I guess your ability to picture what you want to make in negative.”

“So is that why you use bronze instead of steel, or something stronger?”

Antony nodded. “Using the Light as a mold actually gives us more control than most forging techniques would. Not to mention, when you hold the molten bronze in a container completely constructed of Light, some of the power seeps into the metal, making the protective layer that allows the weapons to endure through the ages. Down the line, starting with a small amount of innate Light makes the objects easier to imbue with special powers. It acts as a glue for the additional Light to grab onto.”

Odelle pointed a firm finger at Antony. “No special abilities for my dagger. You’ve overexerted yourself too many times in the past several weeks as it is. I’m honestly not sure I should even let you do this ‘mold made out of Light’ scenario either.”

“I can manage this part just fine,” Antony assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. “A dagger is small, so I shouldn’t have to channel too much Light,”

Maybe not a lot for him, Odelle mused as she pictured an entire salt flat of shimmering gold.

Appearing satisfied with the consistency of the melted metal, Antony closed his eyes and held his hands out in front of him. At first, Odelle didn’t see anything happening, and had the unsettling thought that maybe Antony was more exhausted than he seemed. Then, she noticed tiny filaments of Light spilling from his fingertips. The sparkling fibers, barely more noticeable than a single hair, came together into larger strands of gold, which in turn wove to create a solid sheet. The glimmering material began to fold in on itself, forming what looked like a box, although through the translucent iridescence, Odelle could just make out a long thin shape if she squinted.

Antony’s brow furrowed in an expression of immense concentration. Since she could no longer see any changes in the glimmering figure before him, she speculated he must be making small changes to the shape of the knife in the mold. A single drop of sweat rolled down the cords of his throat.

Finally, he opened his eyes, and Odelle had to suppress a gasp once more at the golden color of his irises, holding the same ethereal glow they had when he had made the portal. He used the tongs to lift the bowl from the fire and carefully poured the liquid metal into the top of the mold. Odelle watched, mesmerized by the way the bronze rippled in its molten form.

Once the mold was full, Antony closed his eyes once more and was still. Odelle bit her lip, wondering how long he would have to channel the Light until the weapon had hardened. She inched forward not wanting to distract him, but also afraid of watching him crumple with exhaustion once more. Still, while his breath came slightly quicker, he didn’t seem as if he was exerting himself beyond what he would for a light jog. After several short minutes, his eyes drifted open once more, the gold ebbing from them like smoke on the wind. He held out one hand as the mold in front of him dissolved into golden tendrils and a gleaming dagger fell into his upturned palm.

Odelle hissed, expecting the still-hot metal to burn Antony’s hand, but he grabbed it by the hilt and inspected his work as if it were nothing. With a satisfied smile, he beckoned Odelle closer. When he offered the knife to her, she picked it up gingerly between her thumb and forefinger and was somehow surprised to find it cool to the touch despite Antony’s casual handling of it.

“I didn’t think a purely utilitarian weapon was really your style,” Antony explained as she turned the weapon over in her hands.

In fact, calling it a weapon seemed inaccurate—it was a work of art. A lethal, leaf-shaped blade the length of her hand gave way to a hilt that fit into her palm as if it were an extension of herself. Along the grip were engravings of crashing waves, frothing towards a decorative pommel in the shape of a shell.

“The symbol of Aphrodite?” Odelle questioned as she brushed her fingertips over the detailed conch.

“It might be predictable, but the more I’ve thought about the Goddess of love being married to the blacksmith of the Gods…” Antony trailed off, scuffing one sandaled foot on the ground as a blush spread to the tips of his ears.

Odelle wasn’t one to complain about being compared to the Goddess of all things beautiful, no matter how cliché others might find it, but it hadn’t even occurred to her that Aphrodite had been married to Hephaestus in classic mythology.

“I didn’t think they had a happy marriage,” Odelle remarked.

“Depends on who you ask,” Antony said with a lopsided shrug. “But I like to think they were happy, and if Aphrodite strayed, it was just in her nature as the Goddess of desire.”

“Well, you’re one of the handful of living people who heard the original myths, so I think they went however you say,” Odelle declared, before continuing more gently. “And something tells me Aphrodite and Hephaestus were happy together too.”

The smile Antony gave Odelle was positively incandescent. “Try it in the secret compartment in your leg.”

Odelle did as he requested, and to nobody’s surprise, the dagger slid into the narrow space perfectly.

“I always thought a knife sheathed on the thigh would be the ultimate dangerous accessory, but I think you’ve proven me wrong.” Odelle admired the way the weapon slid seamlessly out of its hiding spot in her shin whenever she pressed the hidden latch.

“You gave me the idea when I heard you used one of your legs as a club when the Agent captured you in November,” Antony said.

“Yeah, my microphone just didn’t have enough weight to it.” Odelle thought back to that day, and some of her exuberance at Antony’s incredible gift faded. Who knew if she’d ever be out in the field, reporting on a blizzard again? Granted, she preferred avoiding extreme weather, but she’d give anything right now to be back out on the streets with a camera man and a microphone. Maybe there was still something she could do to salvage her career.

“Odelle?”