The Sword and Blacksmith

Despite Edward's warnings, only a handful of guards patrolled the tower's base. With practiced ease, Roukan whistled a jaunty tune, drawing a guard out from the shadows. Elswyth, heart hammering in her chest, followed Cannagan's instructions. A flick of the wrist, a muffled thud, and the guard crumpled, succumbing to the sedative. Each rustle of leaves, each creak of floorboards sent shivers down Elswyth's spine, but she held her breath and followed the plan. Working in grim silence, they stashed the bodies one by one in the sleeping quarters, locking the doors from the outside. And in one of the guards at the top floor, they retrieved a strange looking key.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity climbing endless flights of stairs, they reached the top. A heavy metal door, its surface cold and unyielding, stood as the sole guardian between them and the Blacksmith. Crafted from thick steel, it was bolted shut with five massive studs, their intricate shapes matching the key they got.

One by one, they unlocked the door, each turn raises their anticipation. Will they be greeted with a friend or a foe, she wondered. When the final lock was turned, they placed both their hands on the on the cold metal and pushed with all their might. The metal door screeched and echoed through the empty halls as they pushed it open.

They were greeted by a dark room, dimly lit by a low flame coming from a single lamp on a desk near a bed. When they entered, they felt the chilling cold air as the night breeze flow freely from an open window. From it, they can see the dark streets of Oten. Cobwebs are at the corner of the walls and the floor is covered with dust with marks of footprints. Despite the unwelcoming sight, she was overcame with a great feeling of longingness, an eagerness to explore each corner of the room.

She was cautiously walking towards the lamp when she heard soft clinking of chains and sound of metal dragging on the floor. Then she saw a pair of angry eyes glowed from the corner of the room, followed by the glint of a swinging of a sword. Elswyth blocked the attack with her dagger and came face-to-face with an old, rusted blade. Her attacker then retreated to the shadows, waiting for another chance to attack. She moved so fast she didn’t see his face.

“Wait!” Elsywth yelled. “We’re not your enemy. You’re the blacksmith. We’re here to rescue you!”

“HA!” she wasn’t expecting to hear a woman’s voice. “How many times have I heard that before? Come at me again in the middle of the night and your heads will roll.”

“We’re not here to harm you,” Ellie replied. She dropped her dagger to the floor and kicked it away. “I’m not going to force you come with us either. But hear us out. And then make you choice.”

A few seconds of silence, the air grew heavy. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Elswyth of Faeldic,” she said.

“You’re far from home,” slowly she walked out of the darkness and the dim light from forge revealed a tall woman, face smeared with ash and dust. Her feet are bound in chains. tribal tattoos crawl from her well-built shoulder down to her forearm. Her raven hair was a mess, sticking with each other probably from the sweat of the day’s work. Her thin lips cracked from the heat.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“And him?” she cocked her head towards Roukan. “Another one of your recruits? Which prison did she save you from?”

“Roukan of Brinn” he merely answered. “I didn’t need any saving, but you look like you could use it.” He shook the set of keys in his hands. Aurea’s dark brown eyes lit up at the sound of the jingling keys, the sweet sound of her freedom.

She eyed them both warily. Sighing in defeat, she raised her cuffed hands, the chains lightly clinging. “Aurea,” she said. Roukan nodded at her as he tried the first set of keys in his hands.

“I’ve never met anyone from the forest of Silva,” Aurea said curiously. “That’s far from Brinn. How did two people from the opposite sides of the continent meet in such a dreadful place?”

“We met at Dernvale just a week ago,” she answered.

“How did you survive that forest?” she asked. “No one comes back from Dernvale. That place is crawling with demons. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Roukan’s a survivor,” she said. “Talented with swords.”

“Save the flattery, Guardian. You’re making me blush,” he said teasingly.

Elswyth rolled her eyes at him. “Just find the key,” she snapped back at him, which only made him smile even more.

“The Guardian?” Aurea gasped. “You’re the Guardian of Eardyn?”

Roukan smiled even more at that. Aurea raised her eyebrows and eyed her from head to toe. She cleared her throat, eyes wandering from corner to corner of the room, trying to find for something to do. Then she remembered her dagger and went to where she kicked it to.

From the corner of her eyes, she can see Aurea still watching her. And then she sighed, the corner of her lips turned down slightly, and shoulders slumping.

“The Guardian has not been seen for decades,” she said to Roukan. “How are you sure that this is her?”

“I’ve seen her fight,” he said. “She can take down a demon by herself.”

Aurea raised her eyebrows. “Could you really?”

“I could take you back to Dernvale and show you,” she dared her smiling. “Unless you want to stay here.”

Aurea’s chapped lips curled in a smile. She raised her hands towards Roukan.

“Alright,” he said cheerily. “Now all I have to do is find the key.”

Finally, she found her dagger near the bed. She was about to reach for it when the discarded rusted sword caught her attention.

“Where did you get this sword?” she asked the blacksmith.

“Old Rusty? One of the guards brought it in,” she said. “They told me to fix the blade, but I couldn’t even dismantle it. And no amount of pickling, sanding, or grinding ever helped that it.”

Elswyth slowly made her way to the old sword.

“It’s no good for cutting, but it cracked open a few heads of unwelcomed guests,” Aurea said chuckling.

“Why did you keep it then?” her eyes are still fixated on the sword, oddly hypnotized by its blunt blade and weathered hilt.

Aurea shrugged her shoulders. “I told the guards I was still studying it, so they let me keep it in my room,” she said. “It’s useless, but it’s interesting. They found it in the old dragon’s lair. They thought it was magic. Not a very smart bunch, those soldiers.”

“No, it is magic,” she whispered. Roukan suddenly stopped trying to unlock Aurea’s shackles and tuned to see her. “This is my sword.”

“The sword of the Guardian?” Aurea snorted. “It’s blunt, and it’s too heavy. What an odd weapon for the protector of Eardyn.”

“And hey! Forgot something?” she shook her hands near Roukan’s face and the chains that bound her jingled. But Roukan paid her no mind. His eyes were watching Elwsyth’s every movement, taking in each second of what was unfolding before him.

“No,” she breathed. “No one else can.”

She slowly reached for the sword and lifted it with ease. As soon as it was in her hands, the sword changed. The rust fell like red snow on the floor, the blade shone like it was newly forged. The blade grew thin, enough for someone in Ellie’s weight can wield. It had a simple black hilt. She lifted the sword up with one hand and swung it, cutting through air, the sword hummed.