Fred Ironheart's Arc

Chapter 6 of 9

Fred's new forge burned hotter than any he had owned. He had spent his stall coin on it, a great chamber ringed with tools built for his giant hands. The dragon clause still sat in his mind. To arm a hero, he needed a blade worthy of one. That meant metal no common smith could shape. He knew the man to fetch it. Marcus arrived at midday. The retired hero rode a chariot pulled by a huge black horse, its harness bright with color. A silver-grey wolf trotted beside the wheels, purple eyes fixed on Fred. This was the man who had first brokered Fred's bond, and who now sold word of the forge for pay. Fred trusted him more than he liked to. "You called for me," Marcus said. He climbed down and scratched the wolf's ear. "What do you need?" "The strongest metal in Gildenshire," Fred said. "And gemstones. I mean to forge a blade for a hero." He set a heavy purse in Marcus's palm. "Bring me enough to fill a crate." Marcus weighed the coin. His face turned careful. "I know a seller. But strong metal draws strong eyes." He did not argue further. He loaded a silver-and-gold chest onto his chariot, snapped the reins, and drove off with the wolf loping behind. Fred waited two days. On the third, the chariot rolled back into the yard. Marcus lifted an open metal crate from the bed. Inside sat dark ore chunks, dense and cold, and a small pouch of stones that flashed red and blue in the sun. Fred lifted one chunk and felt its true weight. This metal would hold an edge against dragon hide. "You did well," Fred said. "I didn't do it quietly." Marcus set the crate down hard. "The seller asked who wanted metal this fine. I gave no name. But a man was watching the stall. Grey beard. Scarred brow. He bought nothing. He only listened." Fred's grip tightened on the ore. He knew that description. Garrick had followed the trail of his own coin. "He'll know I mean to forge a great blade," Fred said. "And every blade I forge is his to sell." "Then forge it fast," Marcus said. He climbed back onto his chariot. The wolf swung its head toward the road, ears up. "Whatever you're planning with that clause, he's planning against it now." Marcus drove off. Fred carried the crate to his forge and set the ore beside the anvil. He had his metal. He had his stones. He could build the blade that might buy his freedom. But Garrick had seen the purchase, and Garrick held the right to every sword. The moment Fred struck steel, his contract holder would come to claim it. He had won the material and lost his secret in the same breath.