Haven Keep (Book 1) (14 page)

He heated the metal carefully and cut it with a wedge.  Half went back on the shelf, the other in the hot coals.   He worked the bellows until the stock glowed bright yellow.  He retrieved the metal and began to work.  Slowly at first, constantly returning it to the fire.  Then faster and faster he hammered.  Feverishly, almost in a frenzy he hammered and pounded.  The pattern began to emerge, just as he hoped it would.  Not a visual pattern, at least not one that was easily seen, but Von knew it was there.  His body and hammer were in harmony with the metal, his work sang as it came to life.  Each stroke added life and power, layer after layer.  He felt this before.  How to sustain it, how to keep it he did not know, but for now it resonated through him, permeating the alloy that would become the knife blade.  Von was determined he would know.  The secret was there, somewhere.  Pound and fold, pound and fold.  He labored as the hours of the morning melded together.  Immersing himself in the pattern he created he lost all concept of time.

“You missed lunch again.”

Von turned around with a start.  It was Anora. His heart quickened at the sight of her.

“I brought you something to eat,” she said with a smile.  “You can’t keep skipping meals you know.”  The light of the forge shone in her green eyes.  They were sparkling emeralds.   Her eyes always made him think of emeralds.

“I haven’t been hungry,” Von lied.  The smell of the food made his stomach growl.

Anora giggled.  “Your stomach disagrees with you,” she teased.

Von went red.  Suddenly he realized he didn’t have his shirt on.  He grabbed it and quickly pulled it over his head.  “I guess I could use something to eat,” he mumbled.

“I thought I might eat lunch with you,” Anora announced. “May I?”

Not waiting for an answer she seated herself at one of the work benches and spread out the meal.  Lamb and flat bread, smoked cheese and berries, with a mild cider to drink.  She looked up at him. “I haven’t seen much of you these past few days.”

“Uh,” Von stammered, “I’ve been kind of busy.”  He sat down across from her.  His stomach growled again.  “Smells good,” he said.

Anora giggled again.  “You better eat something before your stomach digests itself.”  She fixed him a plate, then poured the cider.

“Thank you,” Von said and began eating hungrily.

He was no longer as comfortable around Anora as he’d once been.  She was beautiful, and way out of his reach.  A freed slave was not the kind of man she would want, or deserve. 
That wasn’t what he’d always been, but that’s what he was now.  He said nothing for the same reason he’d never spoken once on the subject in eight years.  Evenfelle was dead, gone, and many  people in the north liked it that way.  It wouldn’t be good to remind them constantly of where he’d come from, nor the circumstances of his arrival.

He wondered if he was still capable of living the quiet life of a blacksmith.  He was once resigned to just that.  So much had changed in the last few days, bringing back old memories and possibilities.  Something else in his mind told him a quiet life wouldn’t be so bad.  He didn’t need anything that wasn’t here, right now, in this forge.

“What are you working on?” Anora asked.  Her eyes never left her food.  She was working herself up to something, Von could tell.

“Oh, just more blades,” Von responded.  “I hope to make enough money to have my own shop soon.”  Von wished he had that back as soon as he had said it.  Anora didn’t know he was already free.

“What do you need your own shop for?” She asked.  “You have this one.”

“I mean eventually,” Von tried to recover, “you know, I can’t always rely on your father’s hospitality.”

He did want his own shop, but not for the reasons she might think.  He needed to discover the secret to the pattern he was working on .  He was so close and...  Realization hit him.  The pattern on the blade was destroyed.  That was the best word he could think of.  Destroyed.   He jumped up and plunged the knife into a barrel of water.  It had already cooled too much, lost its temper.  He could reheat it, re-temper it, but the metal was no longer alive.  Not again.  He sat down with a sigh.

“What is wrong with my father’s hospitality?”  Anora tried to tease, but hurt feelings showed through.  “Is that what you want to be, a blacksmith?”  Her questions were all over the place.

Von didn’t know what to make of it. 
What had he said?  What did he do?
 
What was wrong with being a black smith?

“I...” Von changed what he was going to say.  “For awhile.”  He knew he had nothing else to do but be a blacksmith, and nowhere else to go, at least for now.

“And nothing,” he added.  “Nothing is wrong with what your father has done for me.  I just want to eventually be able to stand on my own.”  He hoped that was a good enough explanation.  He wasn’t exactly being articulate, but it would have to do.  He felt guilty, knowing moments before he wasn’t sure a blacksmith’s life would be enough.  He was torn. He wanted revenge, but he wanted a life with Anora too.  He couldn’t tell her everything yet.  She would have to wait and, he hoped, somehow understand.

“You lied to us,” Anora whispered.

“What?”

“We gave you a home.  Treated you like family and you lied to us.”

“Anora, what are you talking about?”  Von didn’t understand where this was coming from, “I don’t...”

“My father told me.”  She stood up to leave.

Von nearly panicked. 
What did Baiden tell her?

“He said you would be leaving us.”

“Leaving you?”  Von felt relieved.  There was no way Baiden knew the full truth, so no way Anora knew either.  “Why would I do that?”

“Your free aren’t you?”  She raised her voice.  “He said you would have things you would want to do.  Things you would need to do.”

Anora turned sideways to hide her face.  Von took hold of her arm.  She looked up at him, her eyes welling with tears.  “Why could you not tell me?  What else have you kept hidden?”

“Kept hidden?”  Von wondered, some of the panic returning.  “I don’t understand.”  Anora’s words stung, hit too close to home, but he dared not think his secret was known, at least not by Anora.

“Father said you’ve had eighteen summers. He didn’t even say eighteen winters.  As if you don’t belong here.  Like you aren’t one of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Von said.  “I was afraid of the mines.  Please understand.”

“Is that all?”  Anora asked.  It was more of an accusation than a question.

Von stared blankly at her. 
What was he to say?
  He
was
holding back. 
Could he tell her everything?
  No.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.  His hand dropped from her arm to her hand.  The thrill holding her hand was marred by the accusing look.

“I don’t know what you want to hear,” Von finally admitted.

“You promised me less than a week ago you weren’t leaving.  Now Father says otherwise.  Tell me it isn’t true.”

“I have no plans to leave,” Von assured her.  It was true.  He hadn’t made any plans.  He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he knew now the day would come.  He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her.

“But you are leaving, aren’t you?”  Her accusing look turned to sadness.

“Not now,” Von answered, “not yet.  I’m trying to reconcile my old life with my new one and I don’t know how.”

“Stay here,” Anora pleaded. “Stay with us.”  Von wanted to hear her say stay with me.

He could not lie to her.  “There may come a time...”

He caught her hand before it struck his cheek. 
What was wrong with her?
  She yanked her other hand out of his and began pounding his chest.  She was sobbing.  Von pulled her to him and let her cry.

“I won’t leave you,” he promised.  To his surprise she stood in his embrace.  Von wished he could keep her, wished she could be his.

Finally Anora dried her eyes.  “Dance with me tomorrow night,” she said.

“What?”  Von asked.

She pulled away and wiped her face dry with both hands.  “There is a feast tomorrow night,” she was smiling again.  “You would know about it if you came out into the world sometime.”  Smoothing her dress she continued, “A letter arrived from the Halfen Clan.  They have a new chief.  Messengers will be here by morning with more details.  Some sort of representatives coming to pledge their support to Father and respond to the gathering of chiefs.”

“What happened to Cray?” Von wondered out loud.

“They say he died in a drunken brawl.  No surprise,” Anora sniffed, “Halfen.”

Von thought she was going to spit.

“It doesn’t matter, you will dance with me?”  It sounded like a question, but Von knew it wasn’t.

“I don’t know if that’s wise.” Von searched for a good excuse, even though he would love a chance to dance with Anora.  “Not everyone knows yet.”

“What, that you have been pretending to be a little boy?”

She was teasing him again.  It made Von feel more comfortable, that things were normal.

“Everyone will know soon enough.  You can’t hide in here forever.”  She turned to leave, and this time Von let her go.

Anora looked back over her shoulder. “Make sure you clean up before you come to dinner.”  She winked at him, shut the door and left.

Von shook his head, but couldn’t help grinning.  Anora.  He often thought of her.  Lately he couldn’t get her out of his head.  More than ever Von wanted to make a new life here. 
Could he forget about his home and what happened to his family?  Was there any reason not to?  What could he ever do to bring it back?
All questions he really possessed no answers for.  At least not answers he cared to dwell on.

Von worked the bellows to reheat the forge, trying not to think about what he once was.  He could become something new, something different.  Start a third life as a free man of Azmark.

He decided not to try and finish the dagger, since the pattern had been interrupted.

That was it!

If he could finish a blade without interruption, without breaking the momentum, the pattern would be finished, it would be complete.

A small blade.  He could finish a dagger if he worked through the night.  It didn’t have to be complicated.  A simple design, a simple pattern.  If it worked...  He almost dared not think about it.

Von began  preparations for his task. Using the tongs he placed the last of the third billet in the forge.  His heart pumped with excitement. The strange alloy began to glow, pulse with the energy of life.   He worked quickly, transferring his excitement into the weapon.  The pattern was similar to the one employed to forge swords, only less complex, one he could work and repeat rapidly.  The speed of his strikes transferred into the life of the blade.  It spoke to him.  Sang to him, the tones of a battle hymn.  In and out of the fire and back to the anvil.  He worked with a rhythm he dare not change or slow.  Faster, faster.  The knife blade answered, echoed the rhythm, the speed of the pattern.  This was going to work.  He knew it.  Faster and faster he worked.  Hammer stroke upon hammer stroke.  He exerted all his energies, neared exhaustion. He fought through the pain, fought through the fatigue.  The dagger neared completion.  His whole body began to resonate with the rhythm of the pattern.  A pattern he was creating.  It gave him renewed energy.  Faster, faster.  He could feel the synergy, feel the culmination of every fold, every blow.  He was almost there.  One last hammer strike.

His strength left him.  He sank to the floor in exhaustion.  The pattern vanished, but the blade was done, finished.  An elegant weapon nearly two hands long.  It glowed hot and red, and though the pattern was gone, no, not gone, complete, the life he poured into the blade remained.  He could feel it there, an unseen force resonating with the glow of the heated metal.

He plunged the knife into the barrel.  It hissed, cooled rapidly, the glow of the dagger gone in an instant, the life remaining.

Von twirled the weapon through his fingers.  The knife moved effortlessly.  It danced with a will of its own.  No, his will.  The will he forged into it.  The excitement, the speed he poured into his discipline was alive in the dagger.

“Yes,” Von announced in triumph.  “Finally.”

He could wrap the hilt in leather later.  It must be near dawn by now.  He needed a bath and some sleep.

“I better get going,” he told himself.  “There’s a banquet tonight, and someone is waiting for me.”

Von stepped into the kitchen.  He was washed, shaved and wore his best coat and breeches.  Redd was there as usual.  Dell was returning through the door to the Great Hall.

“Von, me boy,” chimed Redd, “No need fer ya t’ be usin’ the back way no more.”

Von’s surprise must have shown on his face.

“Oh, ev’ry one knows.  Can’t keep somtin’ like that secret.”  His usual smile was in place.  “Most be happy fer ya.  Least anybody has any sense.”  He gave Von a slap on the back.  “Wasn’t right what happened t’ ya as a boy, now Lord Baiden’s done made it right.”  He gave Von a shove towards the Great Hall. “Ya truly be one of us now.  Now go enjoy yerself.”