Rook Fenwall's Arc

Chapter 15 of 11

The new blade was cool now. Rook lifted it and felt its weight. The dark iron rippled under his hand. The stone shard sat deep in the metal, held fast. But a weapon that never bit could fail at the worst moment. He would not learn its truth against the horror. He would learn it first on something else. Thorin watched him test the edge. "You've never swung it," the dwarf said. "You go to the horror blind, you die blind. Find a beast up top. Something hard. If the stone holds against hide like that, it'll hold below." Rook climbed back toward the grove. The tiny dragons led him to the true leaves. He stopped where the iron-limbed trees stood in a tight cluster, their trunks tall and gray. Something moved between them. It rose from a crouch to its full height, taller than Rook by a head. Its skin bore rugged scales like chips of gray stone. Old scars marked its arms. Steel weapons would break on that hide. It was the closest thing to the horror he could find. The troll turned and saw him. It roared and charged. Rook set his feet and raised the blade in both hands. The creature swung a stone fist. Rook stepped aside and let it pass. Then he drove the point at its shoulder. The blade struck the scaled hide. For a breath, Rook feared it would skip off, the way steel had skipped before. It did not. The stone tip cracked through the scales and sank into flesh. Dark blood ran down the dark iron. The troll bellowed and reeled back. It came again, faster now, both fists high. Rook ducked under the blow and swung across its belly. The blade opened a long wound. The troll staggered. Rook pressed in and thrust the point beneath its ribs. He shoved until the guard met scale. The creature shuddered and fell against a trunk, then slid to the ground. It did not rise. Rook stood over the body and drew the blade free. The edge was clean. No chips, no cracks. The stone shard sat where Thorin had seated it, unmoved. He turned the blade in the pale light. Cosmic ripples ran along its length. The dark iron had held against a hide as tough as the horror's own. He had his answer. The weapon would not fail him below. He wiped the blood on the moss and started back toward the tunnel mouth. The stag hide had patched the bellows. The bellows had fed the fire. The fire had forged this blade, and now the blade had proven itself. Only one thing remained. The horror still waited in the dark below, the thing that had killed everyone he was sworn to protect. Rook gripped the sword and began the long climb down to face it.