AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I arrived home early enough to help with dinner,” I say. “Your mom taught me how to make bread. Turns out these hands are good for more than just beating metal. I hadn’t thought dough could be so tiring.”
Kellyn reaches under the table and takes my hand in his as I talk.
And everything is fine again.
Soon, I find myself lighting up whenever I see Kellyn, even looking forward to it, instead of dreading it. My mind relaxes, and I revel in Kellyn’s presence. I love smelling the flowers he brings me. I love it when he takes my hand and even become brave enough to take his.
I love touching him when we kiss. Curling my fingers over his arm, running the flat of my hand over his chest, exploring the plane of his throat with my lips.
I’m happy.
And everything might just be okay. Temra is safe. I feel safe for once. Kellyn is perfect. Petrik is a favorite among the children, and he spends every second he can with them.
And then the day comes when the mold is finally ready. The last of the clay dries, and I invite Petrik, Temra, and Kellyn to join me at the forge.
“I don’t know if this will work,” I warn, “but I thought you all would want to be here for this part.”
Petrik scrounged up more parchment from somewhere in the village, and he’s been working to rewrite all the progress he lost on his book. He has it with him now, and he scribbles like mad from his spot on the ground, where he has a clear view of the hole. Temra is by his side, her arm on his shoulder as she reads what he writes.
“It’ll work,” she says without looking up. Total faith in me.
I don’t think I deserve it.
Kellyn wears Lady Killer on his back. After our initial arrival to his family’s home, Kahlia forbade weapons in the house, so we stored everything high up in one of the trees. But I told Kellyn to bring his longsword by the forge so I could take its measurements. I can get started on his magicked weapon as soon as Secret Eater is taken care of.
With my friends watching patiently and the curious smithy side-eyeing me, I heat up all the piles of scraps I’ve gathered. One by one I pour pots of liquid metal into the mold in the ground, filling it until the molten iron reaches the top.
I have so many eyes on me. For real this time. This is no imagining in my head. People have gathered to see what I’ll do.Even some townsfolk have appeared, wanting to know what’s got everyone so intrigued outside the smithy.
I look inward for the strength I found in the prison cell. I’ve done magic in front of people before. I can do it again. Even if so much more is at stake this time. Not just the lives of four young adults, but maybe all of Ghadra.
It has to be kept safe.
I’m the bladesmith. The only one gifted with magic. I created Secret Eater,almost allowed it to fall into the wrong hands, and maybe it’s always been up to me to fix it.
I remove the broadsword from my side and unsheathe the weapon.
“Please work,” I whisper.
I slowly dip the sword into the liquid metal until only scant inches of the blade and the entire hilt remain visible. The mold does not crack. The liquid metal does not disperse.
I take a deep breath and just stand there, holding the sword in place.
But I need to coax the heated iron to do my will, so I speak to it. “I don’t know why I was given this ability. Whether it was a gift from the Sisters or some curse of my birth. I don’t know what I was meant to do with it. All I know is that I’ve spent my life trying to make the world a safer place with my creations. Yet, I somehow managed to put it at more risk with this singular blade. So whatever the reason, I ask this now: Keep the sword safe. Keep it hidden from the world. Maybe it will have a purpose one day. A purpose for good. But keep it safe until someone worthy comes along. Someone with the good character not tomisuse its abilities. Someone with the power to keep it out of the hands of those who would use it for evil. Let only that person have the strength to pull the sword from this stone.”
Normally, it would take weeks for the metal to cool on its own. It’s far too big to quench, so I assumed I would have to find a way to prop the sword in place and camp out here until everything was done.
But the magic has a different idea.
There’s a cracking sound and a rumble in the ground beneath my feet.
I jump backward; Kellyn catches me before I hit the ground, and we run.
A crater opens up in the earth, a circle perhaps ten feet in diameter. The mold snaps, breaking off in chunks that rain down, revealing the iron rock, perfectly cooled in place, and the sword held firmly in its grasp.
I turn to the smithy, who has an expression of shock on his face. “May I borrow a hammer and chisel?”
He flees, and I think I might have scared him off completely, but he returns with what I requested.
