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Along with the swords, Ravis demands spears and war hammers for some of the higher-ranking members of his army who have requested specific weapons suited to their tastes. Though it shouldn’t, the variety brightens my mood.
When it comes time to magic the weapons, I still don’t have a plan for escape. I do, however, have thoughts on the magic. Ravis said to do better, and I’ve decided the best strategy here is defensive magic. I can’t bear to create anything that will make killing easier for the army bent on world domination.
But if I made Ravis’s men a little harder to kill?
That’s better, isn’t it? In a way, I’m protecting.
Even if I’m protecting the wrong people.
I take the swords one by one and think about what I want them to do. Once again, my thoughts turn to my sister. She’s not like me at all. She’s strong and smart, and if anything bad happens to her, she bounces right back from it.
I remember when the governor’s son made her a social outcast at their school. How he bullied her and got her friends to turn on her. She was upset at first, of course, but afterward, she became as determined as ever to live her life as she saw fit.
When the glow of the memory fades, I feel the magic heating my fingers from where I touch the metal. I turn to Elany and gesture for her to take the weapon, extending it to her by the blade. She grips the hilt and waits for instructions.
I don’t give her any. Instead, I grab an unmagicked sword and swing at her, knocking the weapon from her fingers. Elany jumps backward, as though afraid I’ll run her through now that she’s weaponless and I’m not. The guards at the sides of the forge jump forward.
But the moment her sword hits the ground, the hilt flies back into her hand, even though she’d stepped away from where she’d dropped it. The guards freeze, and Elany stares at the sword as though confused by where it came from.
I smack the weapon from her fingers a second time, and the blade does the same thing. Hits the ground, bounces back into her waiting fingers.
I don’t wait for a response from anyone before I proceed to magic the next sword. And the next. And the next. Elany mumbles to some guard behind me, but I try to put everything from my mind. I can’t work if I’m stressing about all the people around. It’s just me and the sword, me and the next sword.
Kellyn shifts somewhere out of the corner of my vision, and I’m astounded that I can still be so aware of him when my focus is somewhere else.
To mix things up, I reach for one of the war hammers, hold its mighty weight in my hands, and think on what I want the heated steel to do.
“Show me,” a voice demands.
In my concentration, I hadn’t heard the prince approach, and he startles me so badly that I jump and gasp in a breath of air, my concentration completely shattered.
Ravis rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so jumpy, smithy. You’ll injure yourself.” He turns his attention back to Elany, who shows him how the new swords work. She gives him a blade, tells him to hold on to it lightly, then has Strax knock it from his fingers. Ravis grins as the weapon jumps back into his hand.
But the prince only has half of my attention as I look in horror at the war hammer I’m holding.
It’s magicked.
But the prince had interrupted me when I was trying to imbue it with power.
“And what of the hammer?” I hear Ravis ask, as though from a great distance away. “Does it move on its own as well?”
I blink once, raise my eyes to the prince’s.
“Well?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
“You don’t know?” he asks, his tone taking on a hint of irritation.
“You startled me while I was working, and now it’s magicked.”
Ravis sighs. “Lady smithy, trying my patience is a game you don’t want to play. Izan, grab the hammer and see what it can do.”
One of the biggest men I have ever seen steps away from the prince’s personal guard and stomps over to me. A meaty hand reaches for the hammer, and I drop rather than place the weapon within. Izan turns it over, inspecting the work. He trods some twenty yards away from the forges before taking an experimental swing through the empty air.
When nothing happens, he shrugs at the prince beforeapproaching one of those tall, prickly treelike plants. Izan rotates his arms, sending the hammer head flying forward. When it connects, the plant splinters into a million pieces before raining to the ground in a powdery dust.
My insides crawl, and my mind goes completely blank at the sight.
