Page 9 of Forty Deaths Till Us Part
“He did say he hates politics.”
“That is true. It’s his one redeeming quality. He prefers to party, and he isn’t all that discreet about it. Protective protocols are going to put a major crimp in his lifestyle.”
There were several gasps, and we turned to see Quinn making his way toward us. His stony exterior belayed his mood and clan members began to move out of his way quickly.
“What is it?” Cass asked as soon as he stopped before her.
“There has been another death.”
Cassara’s face mirrored Quinn’s. “Where?”
“It’s Sergei,” he hissed.
“Who is Sergei?” I asked.
Cassara’s eyes flickered. “He is our blacksmith. He makes most of our weapons.”
I noticed Val speaking to Rene before his eyes blazed and he began to walk toward us. He took my hand and pulled me after him. “We are heading to the forge.”
I had to jog to keep up with him, and once outside, he veered to the left of the property before taking a side trail covered in shrubs.
The silence was overpowering as we navigated the shadowy trails of the clan’s property. The air was as thick as the incoming fog as I followed Rene.
It was impossible to see which way we were going, but the overseer had made this trek hundreds of times and knew the property by heart. This Sergei was obviously well-liked, and the death dealers were a hair’s breadth from violence.
Rene strode through the woods with a commanding presence, and even the animals who took refuge on his property seemed to recognize his authority. The entire forest held its breath as we ventured deeper into the heart of the Shadow Bone property.
The moonlight filtered through the branches, creating flickers of light above our heads as we passed beneath them, and the distant hoot of an owl added an eerie warning to the intensity of the atmosphere.
I noticed the amber light through the trees, as well as the scent of metal and soot on the breeze. The trail opened up to reveal the workshop from another era.
CHAPTER 4
As we approached the exterior of the forge on the clan’s property, I felt a rush of trepidation, knowing what we would find inside mingled with a sense of awe. The large stone building transported me to another era, and the swaying trees surrounding the ancient structure reminded me of a time when craftsmanship and dedication were valued above all else. The forge stood like a guardian of tradition, its weathered façade regaling countless stories whispered by the wind. It was beautiful in an industrial sort of way.
The building itself was a testament to a bygone era. Its timeworn walls were composed of pitted stone and timber. Both bore the scars of years beneath a hot sun and vicious storms. The rich scent of aged wood hung in the air, mingling with the smoldering embers from within. Vines crept gracefully along the edges, as if nature itself sought to pay homage to the craftsmanship, but there were signs the natural foliage had been cut back recently.
The entrance was framed by an intricately-carved wooden door. It enticed me to step into a world where the clang of metal against metal and the rhythmic hammering of skilled hands echoed through time. But the lack of sound reminded me whywe were here, and I wondered if this sacred smithy would be silent forever. There was a unique symbol branded into the wood above the door. It was worn but represented the legacy of the man within.
Small, square windows punctuated the walls, allowing flickers of amber to illuminate the night. It gave the impression of glowing eyes in the middle of the woods, as if the forge’s fiery heart burned with a fierce intensity. I could see only a single overgrown road and assumed that it was a supply trail and nothing more, but there were no vehicles in the area. The moon cast an enigmatic aura, caressing the edges of the ancient stones, in contrast with the surrounding woods.
The forge itself appeared as a centerpiece of this ancient sanctuary, and was a marvel to behold. It was surrounded by the quiet majesty of nature and made me curious about the long history of our clan. It carried a legacy of those who traveled this path before, and reminded me I had the potential to forge my own way, just like the skilled artisans who once harnessed the flames in the majestic building before me. I hadn’t met the blacksmith and now, I never would, but I would find his killer and help set things right for the clan he worked so diligently for.
Rene led me silently to the large wooden door before I stepped into a room that felt suspended in time, a plethora of traditions amidst the modern world. The air inside was thick with the scent of burning wood and the faint tang of metal. The quiet was interrupted by the subtle breeze as if it mourned for the loss of the immortal blacksmith.
The interior was a throwback in history. The stone walls, chiseled by hands long gone from the world, exuded a unique coolness that contrasted with the warmth radiating from the smithy. Moonlight streamed through small, wood-framed windows, casting white streams onto the worn wooden floor. The glowing centerpiece of the room was the forge itself. Like aneternal entity, it blazed with a fierce, primal energy. The lava-like heart, a cauldron of fire that danced and crackled, sending flickers of light over the room and emitting a steady warmth. The sturdy anvil sat as a sentinel of production and bore the marks of countless creations. Every strike of the blacksmith’s hammer left an indelible imprint on both the metal and the soul of the forge.
Tools of various shapes and sizes hung on the stone walls. They were all meticulously organized, as were the racks of weapons stacked next to the forge. There was a small table with tongs, hammers, and chisels. The implements of the blacksmith had been used countless times and were marked with subtle scars.
There were shelves lining the smithy. They held jars of vibrant pigments, precious minerals, and intricate molds that hinted at the multifaceted nature of the blacksmith’s work. There were pieces in various stages of completion on a large table, revealing the alchemy that transformed raw materials into masterpieces.
My eyes roamed around the room of wonders. “Who was this guy?”
Rene sighed. “Sergei was revered for his mastery and has trained several of our current blacksmiths.”
Cass swore under her breath. “Thorin will go ballistic. If he weren’t in Moscow training another apprentice, he would be down here hunting for the killer.”
Rene shook his head. “Thorin must adhere to protective protocols. I allowed him to stay in Moscow to continue the apprenticeship, but if he leaves Shadow Ghost, then he will be remanded to his own clan.”