Page 11

Chapter eleven

A ntony sweated profusely as he stoked the flames even hotter, melting the bronze ingot that would be his next creation. The only noise in the workshop was the roar of the fire and his own panting, the rest of the Smith’s having retired for the evening. Now it was well past sunset, but this was the only time Antony had to work, given that he spent his days embroiled in council meetings.

Today’s meeting had been as unproductive as ever, the table of people arguing in circles about what to do about the growing power of the Shadow. Antony remained mostly quiet during the meetings, not wanting to encourage a battle when he himself wouldn’t be the one fighting. He knew though, that the Commander favored a head-on battle. She had told him she believed that succumbing to fear and hiding in the Sanctuary would be playing into the Shadow’s hand. If it came to a vote, Antony knew he would support her and vote for an assault, despite his reservations. The Commander had always believed in him. He believed in her leadership abilities in return.

Now though, Antony pressed himself to produce as many weapons as he could before any battle could take place. If Antony was going to vote for the Warriors to fight, then he would put the best spears he could create in their hands. Tonight, however, he was making a sword.

Aediene approached him a week ago, asking him if he would make a sword for her husband. He had jumped at the opportunity, anxious to make something beyond the dozens of identical spears he had been turning out recently. Few people understood that a weapon with special meaning was often more powerful than the standard issue variety.

Xander’s sword would exist because of the love of his wife, and that alone would bring it Light. Beyond that, Antony could create this sword with the couple in mind, attuning it to them. Antony was fond of the young couple. Well, young in comparison to him, even though they had worked their way into the senior ranks of the Eteria. They had been trained by Ezra, having joined after the former training master, Bakhos, was corrupted and killed by the Shadow. While Ezra was just as big and burly, his gentler hand produced more compassionate fighters. Neither Xander or Aediene ever looked down on Antony for preferring to remain in his workshop, although that may have had something to do with Xander’s tendency to spend the majority of his time in the library.

Antony kept the couple in mind as he used tongs to pull the crucible of molten bronze from the fire. He envisioned them even as he let the Light pour through him, creating the outline of the Xiphos before him. The Light shaped into a mold as Antony formed the details of the sword he wanted to create in his mind: a balanced hilt, a perfectly symmetrical blade, and the requested inscription down the side.

Through the darkest night .

With that sentiment in his mind, he poured the bronze into the mold of pure Light to cast the sword. Setting the crucible aside, he concentrated on the mold, holding it perfectly steady in his mind as the molten metal began to solidify within. The most interior layer of Light melted into the bronze as planned, imbuing it with magical strength and solidifying it beyond the normal capacities of metal. This was why the Smiths preferred to work with bronze, a metal that could be cast instead of forged. The molds of pure Light gave them infinite control, and the process imbued more power than could be done when folding and tempering steel.

Even now that the metal had solidified within the mold, Antony kept pouring Light into the form. The longer the sword stayed in the casing of Light, the stronger it would be. Antony would not let anybody die because a weapon gave out on them. If Xander were to die on the battlefield, it would not be because his weapon failed him. Minutes morphed into hours, and still, Antony held onto the Light, sweat dripping down and stinging his eyes. At this rate, the sword would last thousands of years, perhaps even past the existence of the Eteria. Every time Antony moved to release the Light though, he pictured the sword shattering in Xander’s hand, and he pushed on just a little bit longer.

Antony didn’t realize he had lost the strength to stand until pain lanced through his knees from hitting the stone floor. As his vision started to blur, he finally released his grasp on the Light. The finished sword clattered to the floor even as Antony himself slumped forward. His cheek pressed against the ground, he could just see the deadly blade out of the corner of his eye, and he sighed in satisfaction.

Right before the darkness overtook Antony, he mused that his neck would be stiff when Elias found him here in the morning, just as he had every morning for the past week.