'I must be getting better at this, the backlash is hitting me faster than it used to.' 'How many swords is this now?' Halwerd asked, starting the cat's cradle over again. 'Do it tonight.' 'All right.' Herewiss got up, wobbling a little from the backlash of the sorcery. What do you think?' Halwerd considered gravely. Though I could wait for the Maiden's Day Moon.
#WHAT HAPPENED TO WILL ON FORGED IN FIRE FULL#
It's Full Moon this is a good day for it.
'Did it work?' 'Yes.' 'It doesn't look any different.' The boy gazed across the room, and Herewiss looked down at the piece of metal he held. 'I'm nine,' Halwerd said, as if that should have been enough. 'You're too young to be swearing,' Herewiss said with affection. He flipped his hands, and the cat's cradle turned suddenly into a mess. Halwerd sat there in his greasy green tunic, all dark curly hair and fierce concentration. Herewiss never tired of the joys of having a smaller version of himself around, and spent a few minutes just watching the child. Halwerd, his son, was also sitting on the floor, over against the other paneled wall beside the window he had taken off his apron, and was doing an elaborate cat's cradle with a piece of string. The fire in the forge was out, and the tools were racked up on the walls. A number of blanks of the Darthene steel were leaned up in a row against one wall, like so many barrel– staves. Anvils, ingots, and scraps of metal were everywhere. It was full of smith's furnishings: the middle of the room was taken up by the forge, a wide brick pit with a downhanging bellows, and there was a pedal– powered grindstone in one corner. He had to blink for a few moments his eyes watered with the seeming brightness of the tower room. Satisfied, he broke trance and opened his eyes. Herewiss stood back a little, then cut the web's attachment to him with one sharp word. Finally the steeldust glitter could hardly be seen at all for the sorcerer's weave stranded through it. Herewiss tangled the bit of himself like a bright cord, weaving it through itself again and again, drawing it finer and finer, silver wire thinning out to silver web, and always followed by that faint blue flow of Fire. Toward the dancing sparks of steel, into them, through them, and out again, and back in – winding the soul-stuff through the structure, beckoning it in and around, luring in onward with promises of Power about to be achieved. He took a moment to clear his mind out, and then concentrated on seeing the thing in his hands, not as a sword, but as a great number of particles of metal that just I should be able to impose my will on a piece of steel, for Goddess's sake. How the DarkĬan something dead know so well what it's for?- This is ridiculous. No, dammit, Herewiss said to himself, and pulled away from the perception. It lay there across his hands, and waited to be presented with slayings as a banqueter waits eagerly for the first course.
It knew what it was for - woundings and death, the abrupt soft parting of flesh beneath its stroke, the sudden crunch into cloven bone. It knew that it was destined to be a killing weapon, an elegant, finely polished thing, soft of back, hard of edge, with the Mastersmith's distinctive forging-pattern embedded like waves in water within its silver blade.
It was good Darthene steel, folded on itself in its forging the required sixty times, and sealed with the Mastersmith's hallmark down on the rough tang of the metal. It knew that it was a sword – that was the problem. Part of the problem was that he couldn't stop thinking of the thing resting across his upturned hands as a sword a noisy feeling of weaponness trickled through him from it. Herewiss sat cross-legged on the parquet floor, his back braced against the wall, his eyes closed, and concentrated. Smiths and sorcerers come both from the same nest. rede fragment, Healhregebocan, IV, 6-12 1 Hys Fire shall fede upoun his darkest Fear: But nott yntil the Starres fall owt the Skye, Dawn corns up Blue, and our Daye be past by Tale of The Five Vol 1 – The Door Into Fire by Diane Duane Version 1.0 A #BW ReleaseĪye, night commes and Hee risith from the Flame Lyoun and Eagle loudlie cry His name: The Phoenix that schall spurn the shatter'd Spere.
0 kommentar(er)
