Jeff's Arc

Chapter 7 of 8

The blade came off the fire glowing orange. Jeff held it in the tongs and knew the next step. To set the edge, he had to quench it. Cold water, fast, all at once. He turned to the only water in the cavern. The serpent's pool. He stopped. If he plunged hot iron into that pool, ash and scale would foul the water. The serpent shed its scales there. Foul the pool, and the trade ended. No more ore. No finished blade. "You can't use the pool," Garrick said. He set down his own tools. "Do it, and the serpent stops giving. We're finished." He did not soften it. He never did. Three days out from his old master's forge, he still spoke like a man counting losses. Jeff held the blade over the coals to keep it hot. His arm shook. "Then I need water that isn't the pool." "There is none." Jeff looked around the cavern. Wet stone. Steam on the walls. Then he saw it near the iron pit. A crack in the rock. Water dripped from it, slow, gathering in a shallow dip in the floor. Runoff from the tunnels above. Not the serpent's water. Clean. He crossed to it. The dip held little. A hand's depth, maybe less. Not enough to swallow a blade. "Too shallow," Garrick said. "Then we make it deeper." Jeff kicked at the loose stone around the dip. It broke away. He scooped with his boot and his free hand, widening the hollow. Water crept in from the crack, filling the new gap. Slow. Too slow. The blade cooled toward black at its tip. "It's losing heat," Garrick said. "You have one try." Jeff shoved the blade back over the coals. Orange returned to the steel. He watched the pool of runoff rise, inch by inch. His jaw locked. When the water reached the lip of the hollow, he pulled the blade from the fire. He drove it down into the runoff. Steam roared up. The water hissed and boiled around the steel. Jeff held it still, both hands on the tongs, arms burning. The hollow drank the heat. The serpent's pool sat untouched across the cavern, still and dark. He drew the blade out. The edge had set. Hard, keen, holding its line. He ran a thumb near it and felt the bite. "It took," Jeff said. His voice came rough. "The edge is set." Garrick looked at the ruined hollow, then at the pool. "You saved the trade." But the runoff crack had nearly run dry. Jeff stared at the last drips falling from the stone. He had quenched the edge. He had not fouled the serpent's water. The blade was nearly done. Now only one thing remained. The blade needed a final tempering fire, and the pile of scales beside the anvil had shrunk to a handful. The serpent would circle soon.