Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 14: Interruptions

ACT 2

{The more things change, the more they stay the same. Even with Middengard under the banner of war, nothing has been done about it. The Stelecasters still remain within Ferrus Keep. The nobles still plot and scheme against one another, and I find myself still searching for an answer I truthfully cannot hope to discover. The forging of Magnus's most incredible creation, the Golden Heart, continues to elude me, hidden beneath ciphers and vague descriptions, written in a language I barely understand. A month has passed, and I am still nowhere near closer than when I first started. I'd blame Magnus and his ingenuity if not for the constant noise echoing through Middengard. Who would have thought war was such a loud process?}

-an excerpt from the personal journals of Brand Golbeggar, heir to house Golbeggar

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Brand winced as another volley of stones shook Middengard to its core, his home trembling from the aftershock, the roof spitting plaster down upon his head. He dusted the residue out of his hair, sighed, and continued reading the blueprints.

As a man known well across the world for his genius, Magnus had the handwriting of a child and a paranoid madman's legibility. Even after Brand had learned the basics of Byzan, from the spelling and pronunciation of each letter to the finer points of southern grammar and punctuation, he'd come no closer to deciphering the great Magi's blueprints then when he'd first started. So far, the only thing he'd discerned about the invention was that it was the size of a human heart and made out of gold.

"A Golden Heart indeed," said Brand sarcastically. Already a headache was starting to form along his brow. He rubbed at his temples. "The Stelecasters would practically shit themselves with the discoveries I've made."

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Another volley of stones from the Vangen trebuchets slammed into the city's outer walls. Even with Brand's home safely tucked away behind the innermost wall, he still heard the noise echo through the open air, the vibration pushing pins and needles into his feet.

For a month now, the Vangen laid siege to Middengard, and for a month now, Brand had been forced to endure one splitting headache after the other, each new wallop a driving nail into his brain.

"I wonder, could a headache actually kill me if it was bad enough?" Asked Brand to the empty room. Luckily, no one answered. The thought left him sighing with relief. At the very least, his father had seen fit to leave him be, allowing him to work peacefully within Raylein's forge. He'd used that time to brush up on his Byzan, to find context clues in the blueprints, to discover some means of transferring magick in a way that would force the gold to take shape.

But the lump of metal sitting on the table beside him sat staunchly undefeated. Brand glared as if the inanimate mineral were taunting him in some way. So far, his attempts had earned him three burned fingers, a deep, black scorch mark in one of his workbenches, and a ruined pair of paints.

Brand frowned. "Feth you," he said to the chunk of gold, its silence more than enough to get his blood boiling. He grabbed the metal, stared at it, then thought about chucking it as hard as he could across the room. But he knew better.

Anger was his father's gift, a gift he wanted nothing part of. He sucked in a warm breath, blew it out, then placed the lump back on the table. If he had time to be angry, then he had time to figure out just what the feth he was supposed to be doing.

Brand turned back to his studies, then stopped as another attack shook the city yet again.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

The noise died, but then something else caught Brand's attention. Voices yelling just outside the door. Two people in deep conversation, one soft and lilting, his mother, the other deep and bellowing, very likely his father.