Sorcerer… Cyborg???

Chapter 8: Smithing?

Jotun pored over the blueprint, the low rumble of his hum filling the air around him. He called Kothar over, and pointed at the network of runes over the spine of the blade.

"See this, difficult to make if blade is to be strong, we shall have to mold the back of the blade and only forge the edge." Jotun obviously wasn't familiar with the language of Ursten, but spoke with confidence nonetheless.

Kothar nodded his head in agreement, amazed at how quickly Jotun had found a solution. Simon darted about the smithy, occasionally returning to the workbench to examine their progress, but focusing more on conversing with the workers who spoke faraway tongues, which would be essential to his research on the Ancients.

A wax block was brought to the workbench and Jotun began to carve the intricate network of runes. Kothar looked on as the master craftsman deftly revealed the shape of his sword from the wax block. Jotun then placed the facsimile of the sword in a tray filled with sand, which would allow them to pour the molten metal into the wax, melting the wax and replacing it with metal.

Jotun picked up the lump of Skysteel, marching over to a large brick forge. He placed the ore into a large crucible which he then picked up and placed into the forge.

Jotun then placed his hands together in front of his face and began to blow onto the fire in the forge. The runes tattooed over his arms glowed with a dull red light, as Jotun's breath stoked the flames. Once the crucible heated up, Jotun handed Kothar a hammer.

"Your blade should have some of your blows." Jotun then turned back to the forge, reaching into the flames bare handed, he picked up the glowing crucible and poured the molten metal into the mold they had prepared earlier. The wax hissed out of the holes in the sand, vaporized by the heated metal.

After waiting for some time to let the sword set in its shape, Jotun shook it free of the sand and carried it over to the anvil. He pointed at the edge of the blade and gestured for Kothar to begin hammering. Kothar knew from his own manufacturing that the forging would grant the edge much greater hardness than the back of the blade.

After some time Jotun took over the forging, sending up great showers of sparks with every blow. After he had forged the blade to his satisfaction, Jotun took the blade and quenched it in a great vat filled with a murky black liquid. Allowing the blade to cool, he came and sat with Kothar and Simon on the bench, which they had been observing him from.

"You would like the handle and scabbard to be like your drawing?" Kothar nodded in response, evidently exhausted by the intense hammering required to forge the blade. Jotun laughed a big booming laugh that rumbled through the smithy.

"Go get some rest lad. You shall have your sword in a week." Jotun said, ushering the pair of them out of the smithy and returning to his work.

Kothar and Simon both trudged home, exhausted and sweating from the dry heat of the smithy.

Over the next week Kothar maintained his routine of dawn meditation to increase his mana reserves, followed by practicing his Bolt spell and swordplay. Simon would arrive for their studies in the morning, and they would spend the day on the books, with Ophil occasionally joining them.

Tam had yet to return from his journey, and Ophil had been very evasive when Kothar had asked her when he might return. Kothar mulled over where Tam might be, but his father had rarely spoken about his work and where it might take him.

Eventually a cloth wrapped package arrived from Jotun. Unwrapping the package revealed a deep blue scabbard made of thick dyed leather, Jotun had wrapped the handle in copper wire, evidently aware of Kothar's intentions to use the sword as a tool for casting lightning spells.

He drew the blade from its scabbard and it whispered through the air. Sending mana through his arm down into the blade, it began to emit a low buzzing sound as the groove in the spine of the blade began to fill with condensed lightning mana. Pointing the blade at on the practice targets that had been erected in the courtyard, he attempted to cast his Bolt spell. The bolt cracked toward the target, the stored mana shortening his cast time.

Pleased with the blade Kothar slashed at the target. To his surprise the blade passed cleanly through the target, like a hot knife through butter. The blade was to be sharp, but not to such a high degree. Examining it more closely, Kothar realized that the vibration caused by the stored lightning mana was causing the edge to vibrate rapidly, enhancing the cutting edge. Kothar sheathed the blade with a smile, happy with the results of his first project.

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"Kothar! Kothar! Get up, we must leave now!" Kothar blearily opened his eyes to reveal Simon leaning over him, his usually well kept curls disheveled, with a multitude of bags and scroll cases slung over his shoulder.

Kothar leapt out of bed, shrugging on the loose training clothes that he kept by his bed. He picked up his sword belt and pack, following Simon through the house.

They emerged out into the street, where they could see the glow of distant torchlight and fires in the city and hear the clashing of weapons. Ophil rounded the corner, wearing the heavy leather robes of a battle mage.

"Good, you have him. Simon, take him to the academy. Son, you'll be safe at the academy, Simon will explain everything. Both of you, be safe." Ophil raised her arms, a green glow surrounded her as the paving stones behind her erupted, a mass of roots erupting from the ground, the tangle of roots created an impenetrable wall, blocking Simon and Kothar off from Ophil and the battle that was ensuing in the streets of Balin.

Kothar watched as glowing torchlight rounded the corner, and Ophil rose up on a tangled mass of vines, she yelled fiercely at the approaching attackers, shocking Kothar, who had only heard her speak in her soft mellow tone. Sweeping her arms forward, the vines became lances that arced toward the attackers, however Kothar was not to see the rest of the battle, as Simon pulled him by the arm to hurry them towards safe haven.

The air was filled with the screams of the attackers, and the mysterious figure watched as Ophil decimated their ranks. Suddenly, the figure spun around, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, in the direction that Simon and Kothar had gone.

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