Sterling Forge's Arc

Chapter 11 of 31

They walked until the sky turned the color of old iron. The wolf's blood had frozen on Sterling's sleeve. He kept the blade in his hand instead of his belt. He did not want Linny to see why. When she stopped to check the map, he stepped behind a trunk and turned the steel to the weak light. The edge that had gone through the wolf's neck was gone. A crescent had chipped out of the belly of the blade, wide as his thumbnail. Two smaller nicks flanked it. The metal along the break looked grainy. He had known it would. He had kept this one on purpose because the other was better and he had wanted her to carry the better one. He ran his thumb along the ruined edge. It caught, but it did not cut. He could sharpen the good stretches on a stone tonight and pretend. He would have maybe one clean stroke left in it. Against a wolf, one stroke. Against what waited past the ridge, none. "Sterling." He slid the blade behind his leg. "Coming." She was crouched by a frostwood cluster, the icy branches sagging low around her hat. The chipmunk sat on her wrist, pink ears twitching. She had the map open on her knee. "Half a day to the hill," she said. "Maybe less if the creek's frozen through." "Good." She looked up. Her eyes went to his hand, then to his face. "Show me the blade." "It's fine." "Show me." He brought it around. He turned the flat toward her so the chip sat in shadow. "Wolf hit the pommel side. Handle's loose. I'll wrap it at the next stop." She held his eyes a beat longer than he liked. Then she folded the map. "Wrap it now." "At the next stop." She stood. The chipmunk ran up her sleeve and vanished into her collar. "Fine." She started walking. He watched her back for a moment. She had believed him. Or she had decided to let him have the lie. He could not tell which and he did not ask. He sheathed the ruined blade against his hip and followed. In his head he counted what he had left. A short knife in his boot. A hammer he had not thought to leave behind. His hands. The other blade, the good one, on Linny's belt where he had put it three days ago and could not take back without telling her why. The frostwood thinned. Somewhere ahead the ground would start to rise. He would need a plan before it did. He did not have one yet. He walked faster to keep even with her and kept his sword arm turned away.