Sparks flew and danced silently to the floor like fallen phoenix feathers. Their fiery beauty blazed brightly as the clash of steel rang audibly in my ears. The elders Rei and Sao fought almost harmoniously with one another in a demonstration of true swordsmanship, and exhibited the skill we should yearn for. I watched in awe alongside my fellow students as Rei countered Sao's attempts at her shoulder almost effortlessly, but Sao remained calm and composed as she swung her blade with the vigor of a lion pouncing on a gazelle. Elder Xiu stood watch in the center of the temple as the two women strode around him, metal flashing furiously in a dance of death. No one dared speak, but instead we only watched as they jabbed gracefully at one another, each in turn. It was a magnificent sight, like fire clashing with ice, a true display of a great mastery.
At last, elder Xiu raised his hand to the sky and shouted words in ancient Ionian tongue, and the two ladies immediately halted their advances at each other. They stood glaring for a moment longer, then silently sheathed their blades and bowed gently. They then turned on their heels and marched to opposing sides of the grand hall, repeated the bow and then strode slowly and silently to stand at Xiu's sides. He spoke in a deep and rough tone, and addressed himself to all of us at once.
"As you have just witnessed, the art of the blade is not but death and pain, but also of beauty and grace. You will each learn this, in turn. Please, stand," he pleaded kindly, and we obeyed. "Now that you have all come of age, it is with great pride that I present you with your hilts. Your blades are not something that can be given. Those," he continued, as the room stood still. "You will make yourself."
At those words, the young woman next to me inhaled sharply, as if worried. Xiu took notice of this and asked in a gentle tone, while stroking his long silver beard, "Is something the matter, pupil Reyna?"
The girl I now knew to be named Reyna gazed sulkily with bright hazel eyes at the ground and kicked at a piece of dirt she had suddenly become interested in, and then answered solemnly, "My father never taught me how to hold a sword, let alone make one."
Rei and Sao appeared taken aback at this response and opened their mouthes to speak, but Xiu hushed them and instead showed compassion to the young woman. This, of course, only made her even more nervous than she already visibly was. I could almost feel her sadness. She picked gently at a speck on her midnight blue robes and brushed back her long brown hair behind her with pale, cold fingers.
"It is of no concern what you have or have not been taught," said Xiu in a reassuring voice. "We are here to teach you, are we not?"
Beside him, the slightly shorter women nodded in agreement, and whispers of kind words came from every direction towards Reyna. She blushed softly at the kindness of her peers. I put a hand on her shoulder and promised to help her through it. After all, I had about as much of an idea as she did on how to craft a blade. We could learn together.
We lined up in no particular order, one by one, hilts in hand and made our way deeper into the temple. I stood near the back just in front of Reyna, who was at the tail of the line. She had a worried look about her, and misty, resentful eyes. Her hilt hung loosely from her left hand and I noticed that she must be sinistral. That's one advantage she'd have against the rest of us.
All around us, tapestries depicting great battles between dragons and warriors were imposed on long flowing parchment, as well as many other pieces of art. I took interest in one on my left, showing a woman with 3 golden circles resting above her hands. It was lacking in detail besides the Ionian symbol above her head imposed with golden leaf, but I admired it all the same. It held an air of importance.
There must have been hundreds of scrolls and pictures all around me, and each of them as beautiful as the last. Poems and fables, tales and stories of great warriors that had guarded Ionia and fought great battles for their people, scrawled in wonderful flowing script. I treasured each and every one of the beautiful works of art. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned quickly to see Reyna, who was pointing to a gold and silver piece that hung to the right. In the background, the sun and moon were clearly visible, while in the foreground two figures, gold and silver respectively, were locked in a duel to the death. She whispered to me with a hint of admiration, a grin almost creeping onto her face, "This one is beautiful, don't you think?" I nodded in agreement, and let my gaze linger a moment longer before realizing I was trailing behind. Without a sound, I grabbed her hand and dragged her deeper into the temple, following the dying footsteps of the group.
Xiu stood in front of a small doorway, clearly sealed shut. The door was blood-red to match the rest of the temple, and had the same golden Ionian symbol of purity etched on the front. Rei and Sao stood on either side of the 9 of us and instructed us to stand in birth order. I stood second in line, behind the ponytail-haired boy from earlier that morning. He stood tall and confident. Evidently, he was from a family of high honor and held great pride. A few spots behind myself, Reyna stood fifth in line. She was nervous and it was easy to tell, but she kept a determined look on her face and a barely confident look in her narrowed eyes.
"Hello," came a hushed voice in front of me. I had been distracted by an owl pecking at its perch outside the temple window and didn't see the young man trying to catch my attention. I turned and saw the ponytail-haired boy standing in front of me looking down into my eyes.
"Oh, hello," I stammered. I did not expect anyone to notice me, and much less to speak to me; I was trying to remain inconspicuous.
"Your hilt," he said, pointing to the glimmering piece of metal that hung limp in my right hand, as he produced his own from within his shirt. "It's beautiful."
I hadn't taken the time to examine its features, each so delicately crafted by some master blacksmith I could never know. It had black lace-like carvings spiraling around the handhold, all the way up to the very top that would surely fuse with my blade. Besides the black, it was mostly silver, with thin grey bands at regular intervals. It fit perfectly in my hand, like it wasn't even there. I opened and closed my hand over it repeatedly.
"You like it too, I see," he laughed.
"I haven't had a chance to look at it yet," I replied, although he was absolutely right: I loved it.
"Well it's certainly a blessing that they trusted us with these beautiful works of art. Do you have much experience with a blade?"
"A bit, I suppose," I lied. I really wish I could tell him the truth, but I didn't want him to think I was weak.
"You don't seem the type," he stated, motioning to my robed body and finely set hair. "I never knew a woman could be beautiful and a warrior," he teased. I couldn't help the redness that was undoubtedly showing on my face.
"Oh, plea-"
"Only a compliment," he chuckled, a joking air in his deep green eyes. I thanked him internally for slightly relieving me of embarrassment.
"If you fight as well as you look, I'll be in for a good battle."
I blushed once more.
"Well I'll be sure to give it my all," I trailed off.
"Yasuo," he said proudly, at the notice that I was subtly asking his name.
"Yasuo," I finished. "My name is Syndra."
"An honest pleasure, Syndra," he smiled, as he kissed my hand. "Good luck with your sword. I'm sure it will be amazing." And with that, elder Xiu announced that it was time to enter the room behind him.
"Behind me lies a door that has not been opened since I was your age." I imagined it must have been quite some time indeed, he appeared as old as the dragons themselves. "Through these doors lie nine rooms, each one belonging to one of you. Inside the rooms, you will live until you have forged your blades. You make take as long as you deem necessary. Everything in the room is at your disposal. Use anything you can find." He looked at each of us with father-like eyes. I imagined he was remembering himself when he stood in our place. "Please enter the doors in birth order. Yasuo, you will occupy the room furthest left." Yasuo nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. "Reyna, the middle room belongs to you, and Lin," he directed his attention to a small boy at the back of the line, "The room furthest right belongs to you. The others, fill in accordingly."
Lin was rather short, but had fire in his small, stone-grey eyes. He seemed eager to begin forging his blade. No sweat was present under his short, messy black hair, and his red tunic was dry and pressed. A wide glowing grin was visible on his youthful face.
"Good luck, students. I may no longer help you until you have finished your blades." Xiu stepped aside and behind him, the two crimson doors creaked open, aided by Sao and Rei.
We each stepped inside in turn and proceeded into our rooms. Yasuo gave me one last look, winked, then shut his door. I took a breath and saw the doors shutting all around me inside the brightly sunlit circular room and decided it was time I do the same. Without a backwards glance, I put my hand on the plain, rough pine wood and shut it firmly.
Inside the room were woven bamboo walls and matching floors with a small red cot in the corner of the room to match the general decor. On the wall of my room hung my family's crest, the violets and roses bound together with spirals and swirls. Through a small door on the eastern side of the room was the forge: a large granite furnace with a solid black steel anvil, and water trough. On the stone walls hung an array of metal instruments, to be used for forging the blade that would soon be known as my sword.
I noticed a group of tables with a variety of metals, each with a sign displaying their names: iron, steel, tungsten, titanium, and silver. Above the tables that were in circular order lining the walls of the room, there was the very same Ionian crest, made of beautiful, solid gold that shone like the sun.
I needed time to think. Swiftly but carefully, I stripped off the purple kimono that was laid so gracefully over my shoulders and cast it into the corner of the room next to the cot. The note that my father had left me flitted out and fell to the floor. I snatched it up and clenched it tightly in my hands before letting it fall back down. I unbound my hair and shook it out, while I grabbed the white, freshly pressed gown that was folded on the shelf above a painting of some maple leaves. I threw it on soundlessly and strode into the forge, spinning my hilt in my fingers. I was excited, but had no idea what I was going to make.
I ran my eyes over the precious metals and brushed my fingers along their rough edges. Each held so much potential, but I took a liking to the tungsten. It was dark like the night, yet strong and firm. In a display case in the corner between the furnace and the wall sat a stone that had seven peaks and resembled a star. A small plate on the front of the case informed me that it was a fallen star. It was smooth along the many surfaces and appeared untouched. I admired it for a moment then grabbed a heap of tungsten in my hands and got to work.
The furnace was cold when I arrived. It needed a lot of coal and a lot more attention. I stayed awake twenty hours at a time for three nights until it was finally hot enough to melt the granular grey metal. My muscles ached from pumping the bellows hours on end, but it wouldn't be long until the blade was finished. Every so often I tossed in a pile of coal and imagined how the others were doing. I was sure Yasuo had nearly finished, and I hoped to the gods that Reyna was doing well on her own. There was no way to communicate with each other, so I had no way to know.
I had just finished grinding away at the final details of my blade's mould when a crash erupted from the furnace. "No," I pleaded, "No, no, no!" I ran as fast as I could to grab the mitts and lift the bucket of what tungsten remained; most of it had fallen into the roaring flames of hell that were licking at the tongs with a fiery hatred. The molten metal that was left was surely not going to be enough to make a blade.
Frantically, I scoured the room for more tungsten, but to my despair there was none to be found. I cursed under my breath at the thought of having to repeat the hours that I had already slaved to make a new metal. It was not an option.
I had nearly given up hope when the black stone that was the fallen star sparkled in the corner of my eye, bathed in the subtly glowing rays of moonlight that streamed down from above. The words of elder Xiu echoed in my head: "Everything in the room is at your disposal."
I mouthed the words and came to the realization that I could use the rock! I hurried over to the case and reefed on the glass to no avail; it was sealed shut. Without thinking, I grabbed the most easily accessible hammer and swung it full force into the crystal-like glass. It shattered instantly, and the space rock tumbled onto the chilled, unforgiving floor. I snatched it up and tossed it vigorously into the bucket containing the burning grey metal. After that, exhaustion overtook me and I fell limp onto the dusty stone floor, bathed in the pale silver light of the moon.
When I came to, I could see that two days had passed from the placing of the sunlight on the wall that marked the day. I realized that the metal was surely done by now, assuming the furnace had stayed alight long enough. Sure enough, when I removed the cast iron pail from the burning vault, there was a beautiful red and orange liquid swirling in the bottom. Gently, I poured the liquid into the mould and let it sit for a few hours. In that time, I caved into my hunger, having not eaten in nearly five days. There was only a small amount of dry bread and an even smaller reserve of water. I was glad that I had left it until now; it would barely tide me over.
I brushed the last of the crumbs from my soot-stained face and tossed the leather container that held the smooth, clear liquid aside. I gasped as I saw my blade: a gorgeous black and grey masterpiece, each shade overlapping the last and spiraling around each other like dancers frozen in time. It had set perfectly into the hilt, and the colors complimented each other perfectly. I dipped it in the trough and began hammering at it, desperately trying to strengthen the edges. After a few minutes, I quickly brought it to the grindstone and let the blade sharpen, its edges red hot. At last, I dipped it one last time in the clear liquid until it had cooled, and then held it to my eye.
The edge was perfectly formed, with no sign of imperfections and it seemed to encase the very moon within it. The fallen star was resting quietly, darkly in my blade and I admired the silent beauty that it was. Without a sound, I ran my fingers along the fine edge of the newly hardened metal and noticed small, velvety, dark red pinpricks flowering on my fingers.
I closed my weary eyes and smiled.