A Court of Vines & Shadows

The Blade

CHAPTER 2

MIRA

     The following morning, when the first rays of dawn cleaved the night, far too soon after I found myself abed, I made my way to the forge behind the cottage earlier than usual.

     I couldn't seem to shake the feeling of unease blossoming inside of me from the previous night, needing the heat and the exertion to work out the thoughts clouding my mind. The shop was almost a small city unto itself, with the forge sitting stoutly towards the back, the crucibles set before it, with worktables peppered throughout. Anvils for smithing sat in a pair of two in the front of the room, with two towards the back. Tools hung from the walls and were strewn across work tables, discarded after the previous day's work. The stone walls here were a sanctuary in which to lose myself in prayers of heat and light, of creating new life from the minerals and crafts of the earth.

     Life felt simple in here. I took the resources of the earth in one form, to give life to it anew in a different form. My practices in spying and hunting felt much the same, at times.

     Crafting a new blade smelted from the steel swords I gathered last night off of the corpses of the mercenaries, every strike of the hammer against steel imbued me with the feeling of control once more, shaping and forming my thoughts as I worked.

     The target I was dispatched to intercept last night had been an envoy carrying a message from Lord Hollin's manor, an estate to the Westlands. The messenger had been traveling the back roads, spearing through the heavy forests to deliver his missive onwards through the night. Our sources assumed he was heading North, but until they could question him properly, it couldn't be confirmed.

     My hammer swung in a short, hard arc, connecting with a satisfying clang as iron struck steel. Again and again I swung, my thoughts curling around themselves like the dark, twisted vines covering the woman's corpse. Again. Again.

     That he bore a message so secretive it couldn't be sent by raven was telling of something suspicious. That he rode unaccompanied through the wilds of the back roads signified that Lord Hollin didn't want to draw attention to the courier by taking the main roads, another facet that rolled around in my mind. That others knew of some great importance in his quest, so much so that not one, but two mercenaries were necessary to dispatch for his interception weighed heavily in my chest as well, not even recounting the odd stone necklace found on one of them. The very one still folded and tucked within my pocket, the strangeness of it heavy against my thigh.

     Again. Again.

     I heard the rasping turn of the knob in the cottage first, and a moment later, the heavy door to the forge squealed, and a voice came from behind me.

     "Unless we've had a commission to craft farthings that I'm unawares of, I'd recommend you take it easy on those arrow tips."

     Eyes still trained on the blade before me, glowing bright as a star from forge and hammer strike, I straightened, wiping away the rivulets of sweat on my forehead with the back of my apron sleeve. 

     "Lucky for you, I've already done about six dozen of the arrowheads so far this morning. My current victim is a blade." I said mildly. "Aren't you proud of your finest work pony? I deserve at least one sugar cube for my labors."

     Vemir snorted from behind me, the sound of the scrape of his hammer from the work table blending with the crackle of the forge. I set my hammer down, brushing sweaty wayward wisps of auburn hair out of my face. I felt his gaze on me from behind.