Eddie Harmon's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Eddie Harmon wanted a spot on the crew rebuilding the bridge into Three Oaks, and his chisel was too dull to earn it. He knelt over a block of gray stone in the yard and drove his tool in. The edge skidded and left a ragged white scar. The cut should have been clean. He tried again. The stone chipped wrong, and a corner broke away in his hand. He sat back on his heels and looked at his tools. Years of breaking rock had worn every edge round. He ran a thumb along the chisel and felt no bite. The bridge foreman wanted stone cut square and true. No square cuts, no spot on the crew. Eddie had tried to sharpen them himself. He'd dragged the edges over a whetstone all morning. They still would not hold a line. Some jobs a man could not do alone. He knew that the way he knew rock. He gathered his tools and carried them to the forgehouse. Heat rolled out the open front. The forge glowed orange behind a huge bellows, and the smell of hot iron filled the air. A tall man stood at the anvil, bare to the waist, sweat shining on his back. He held a piece of iron flat on the anvil and did not swing. He leaned close, as if listening to it. This was Alvin, the smith's apprentice. Eddie had heard the talk. People said Alvin could hear what metal wanted. "Your tools are shot," Alvin said, without turning. He'd heard them clatter on the floor. "Dull all the way through," Eddie said. "I've got a bridge to earn my way onto. I can't cut clean with these." Alvin set his own work down and picked up Eddie's chisel. He turned it slow in the firelight. He held it near his ear for a moment. Then he shook his head. "Worn soft," Alvin said. "No good steel left to sharpen. You'd chase the edge forever." Eddie's chest tightened. "So they're finished." "These are." Alvin lifted a heavy iron hammer from the bench. The whole thing was solid metal, head and haft as one. He weighed it in his palm and something in his face settled. "I can hear this one true. Pure iron, all the way down." He carried the chisel to the anvil and set the iron hammer beside it. "I'll forge you new edges. Hard steel this time. Clean cuts." "How long?" Eddie asked. "Not long." Alvin met his eyes. "But I've only ever mended cracked iron. Made a hoe head whole. New tools from raw stock is different. I haven't done it." Eddie looked at the glowing forge, then at the hammer in Alvin's hand. "Then we find out together," Eddie said. Alvin pumped the bellows. The fire climbed white. He was betting Eddie's place on the crew on a skill he had never proven.