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Dearest Readers, may you find your center in the earth and your reach in the skies.
THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE
Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 37: Born of Earth and Sky (Part One)
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Another fine spring day at the Open Market, yet trade and life bustled outside their stall unnoticed as Irse intently scanned the severely tarnished hammer head on the counter, a sample brought in by one of their regular customers. Were Brother Nador here, he would sneer and say she was staring at her twin – a flaky red blockhead.
Beside her, Okami inspected the piece, taking a chisel to scratch at one side. Where only a scale should fall off, a sizable chunk hollowed itself and crumbled outright, russet specks spilling on the table and coating the tip.
"You say this is new. Where was it bought?" the blacksmith inquired.
The other man leaned over and sifted at the dust with his fingers. "A caravan straight from Nashkel. Clean and new when my son brought it home the other day. You should see the nails that came with the hammer."
He produced a box where inside lay nothing but rust-flecked dust, as it were a small coffin and the contents within like the ashes of a creature burned in the pyre. Irse whistled in amazement, while her Teacher bobbed his head with an expression more disturbed than puzzled.
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"I have never encountered anything like it," Okami remarked. "Neither have my former masters, or they would have taught me the treatments for this type of failing in steel."
His words earned more murmurings of confusion than assurance among the village folk gathered at the square. All had been summoned by the Headman to present themselves today, none among them doubted that he meant to address the rumors which began a fortnight since the start of spring.
Reports traveled mostly from the Sword Coast and the Gate in particular, of pots and pans suddenly sprouting holes while cooking, beams giving way from the disintegration of nails that should have held them together, to scabbards left empty as swords and hilts turned to dust in their wielders' hands. Not long and firsthand accounts began to trickle in from Berdusk and Asbravn, both directly reachable from Nashkel through the Uldoon. And with her own eyes, Irse proved the strange stories to be true.
"It's divine judgment from the gods when the cities have exceeded their greed and neglect," pronounced one.
"Could it be Chauntea is punishing us?" another asked fearfully.
"No, the Great Mother's work is of life and growth. This unnaturalness reeks of decay and corruption," Daserah replied.
Whisperings turned into outright mutterings of surprise as the Headman arrived with a contingent of soldiers, their livery familiar but this time unwelcome. Agitated cries rose in the air, demanding Prappin to explain the sudden presence of the Shield of Iriaebor in their peaceful village.
"Calm yourselves. There is no trouble with the Shields," the Headman said, gesturing to the troop leader. "Please, Captain Penaran, explain your business with Dearg."
Penaran nodded curtly as he addressed the people. "In behalf of the Council, we are here to number all men of age in your village, as well as in the surrounding protectorates."
"Men of age? Fighting age, you mean," a woman accused, clinging to her son, a youth barely past boyhood.
"Yes, that is how we consider-," the Captain managed to confirm before he was interrupted.
"So it's true! War is coming to the Sword Coast and soon to swallow even the Vale."
"Chauntea protect us!"
"Bah! What have we to do with the quarrels between these goldmongerers! Leave us out of their business!"
Around them the people grew more restless, voices like the roar of a sea in distress. Irse squirmed, gaze shifting between the menfolk who seemed ready to throw themselves at the soldiers, and the Shields who gripped their spears in unease. However, Okami held his peace as he merely looked with thoughtful eyes at the Captain. Unbothered, Penaran glanced at the troop behind him and raised a hand. Seeing the Shields stand down seemed to calm the crowd.
"You know for yourselves, the Gate and Amn are not exactly on friendly terms, with the Grand Dukes accusing them of sabotaging the ores of Nashkel in retaliation for the Fist's incursion in Maztica," the Captain explained.
"However, I assure you in the name of Lord Bron and the Council, it is not our purpose to recruit an army to advance south. Rather, to check our own defenses should Amn seek to harass any of the cities under the Lord's Alliance to deter aid to the Gate, or worse, unwelcome powers take advantage of the chaos to overrun the Vale. Surely you cannot deny the wisdom in being prepared."
He must mean the Zhentarim mucking about in Darkhold up there by the Far Hills – where some say legions of monstrous creatures lay hidden, biding their time to be unleashed upon the realms. On the other hand, Old Cook Tucky and other veterans of the Shield merely scoff at the threat and say the Zhentilar leaders were too preoccupied with plotting to impale each other's heads on the castle's gates to launch a surprise attack even against the remotest outhouse in Asbravn.
A remembered map on Gorion's desk of the Coast and the Heartlands flashed in her mind, drawing lines of battle at sea or in the plains and forests between the Gate and Cloud Peaks. And Candlekeep lies in their path! Everyone there, Gorion, Imoen … Irse wagged her head to dispel the apprehension settling in her chest. No, her old home should be safe for surely both states would honor it as neutral ground.
Soldiers brought a table and stool to the edge of the square followed by a scribe who took his place with pen and ledger. While grim acceptance hardened the faces of the men, dread radiated from the women. Kerda seemed about to cry in her mother's arms, tightlipped at the sight of the aged Farmer Mozes, and of Thadd with his own father and brothers standing together in line. Irse made to walk over and comfort her friend when Okami likewise stepped away, startling the elf with his sudden departure from her side.
Dutifully, Okami headed straight to the end of the line, soon joined by more. Irse followed and fell in beside him, bit by bit and step by step until she mingled with the column. Ignoring the puzzled looks from the men around her, the elf crossed her arms over her chest and drew herself to her full height, squaring the shoulders, clearing the throat to deepen her voice.
"What are you doing?" he hissed.
"What do you think? Been taken for a lad once." All swords in the realms be bent if she'd let him go out there and leave her behind.
"Do not," Okami warned and lifted an arm to bar her.
"But-"
He looked away. Irse tried to follow yet his hand remained up, unyielding. She scowled, about to protest yet understood that a scene right then and there was the last thing anyone needed. Rooted where she stood as the column filed past her, Irse watched with a sinking heart as Okami added his name to the list as it were an executioner's roll.
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"This is insane," Irse ranted while peering through the door of their stall, eyes darting and following the hubbub of hoarding unfolding outside.
Word got out that the Council restricted the dwarves of Easting from trading the iron they get from their kin, the Bruenghor clan mining up there in the Sunset Mountains. Said dwarves were allowed to keep their stock and weapons, but any surplus must be turned over to the Shields, at a fair price so they say, to ensure that the City and its protectorate maintained a buffer should the uncertainty in iron supply deteriorate to an outright shortage in the coming months.
"Disheartening as well," Okami added, shaking his head, clearly incredulous.
For as soon as the Open Market opened for business this morning, traders made the rounds at the stalls as they sought to snap up every piece of steel under the sun. Evidently, they figured out how to make a killing with the crisis, knowing well how soon everyone would become desperate enough not to care anymore if they're getting the good iron or bad.
Irse flagged a familiar face among the frantic passersby, an assistant to another smith. They briefly exchanged words; the young man breathless with the excitement of one who has found a tumble of diamonds in a pile of slag. Having heard enough, she waved him off and the boy scurried away.
"The others, they're raising their prices all the way up to the spires," she reported. "Merchants are certainly willing to buy, but can you imagine how much they're going to mark that up later when they start selling to the people?"
Master and apprentice exchanged looks of dismay and disbelief. At such dark times when clear sight must rule, instead the glitter of gold blinded all.
A woman dashed into the store, harried from the rush, and sweating with desperation.
"Please, tell me you still have a knife in here 'cause nobody's selling anymore unless you pay them a dragon's hoard. I don't care if it's still dull," she begged.
Hopefully those merchants won't stoop to buying all the whetstones too, Irse wished. At her Teacher's instruction, she drew out a knife from their stock and handed it to the customer.
"We will not change our prices. If you know of others in need, tell them to come to us," Okami said.
Undisguised relief flooded the woman's face as she thanked them and paid her coin. No sooner had she gone when a pair of merchants strode in, greedy eyes already counting the weapons and knives on display even before reaching the counter.
"I suppose no introductions are needed, you already know what's happening out there," one of them stated haughtily. "We'll buy everything in your shop, smith. Name your price."
"Forgive me, sirs, but we do not sell wholesale," Okami politely refused, diplomatic as always.
Yeah not wholesale, Irse mouthed in a voiceless echo, wagging her head at the merchants.
The other leaned possessively over the counter, tapping a ringed finger. "Perhaps you haven't heard? First the dwarves of Easting, soon the smiths of Iriaebor. So if you know what's best for your business, you'll sell all of your stock to us now."
Okami met their gaze with steel in his eyes. "What is best for our business is to serve the needs of the people first, with honesty and fairness."
Taken aback by his words, the men traded unsure glances. Irse stole a proud one at her Teacher.
"Now if you please, this store is open only to customers we wish to sell to," the blacksmith decreed, crossing his arms.
Irse threw them a sly grin, made a mocking bow, and gestured towards the door. The merchants didn't protest, but huffed their displeasure and allowed themselves to be escorted out.
As soon as the traders scrambled through the door, the elf cupped her mouth and hollered, "And don't forget that, ye greedy grubbers!"
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Not the first night that they sat by the stream behind their cottage to watch the stars after supper, and not the first night that there remained no other work to do. However, it was the first in years when the forge remained unlit in many days for lack of materials and commissions. Irse curled a knee close to her chest and counted in only one hand the number of jobs they had since the beginning of the season. Mostly repairs and re-melting old iron, like unused pans or replaced door handles, into scraps either for forging into a serviceable blade or a tool, or for trading.
Trading iron? Come to think of it, not a bad enterprise these days. Ore still flowed sporadically out of Nashkel but now, nobody could be sure if the one they got would last or crumble to dust within days. With older tools yet to be touched by the corruption, some folks have taken to stockpiling this commodity like crazed squirrels in a thinning tree, the panicked mob of merchants at the Open Market setting an example for entrepreneurial extortion. Fortunately the mad rush didn't even last half a tenday before things died down. Yet those who sold out didn't return in the next market day, perhaps content with their quick-gotten gains or embarrassed at having taken part in that debacle.
And what of brewing war? More than a tenday passed since the Shields came to Dearg. Still by the gods' mercy, everything stayed as they were – rumors, not arrows, flying. Tempers like water simmering in the kettle. Despite the pall of uncertainty, life in the village resumed a sense of normalcy. Everyone, with their tools still good, went about their business as usual, working the fields and plots and flocks. Though one must wonder how long it would last before the pot boiled over.
Worried thoughts turned to the coming days. Will the time come when all iron fell to wasting, and soon words of peace fail as well? What would they do then? Irse hugged her knees tighter and sighed.
"What troubles you?" Okami asked gently.
"I wish this whole thing is just done and over with. That maybe it won't drag on, or the gods would send someone or a bunch of people to fix it, whatever's truly causing all this weird mess," she said, sulking.
He hummed his agreement and returned to gazing at the sky. Irse cast an envious side glance at her Teacher. Oh, to be so calm despite the threat to their livelihood.
"What are we going to do now? There's still good steel coming through sometimes, yet we still can't get any work."
What more when none are coming? And when there's nothing left to fix?
"I do not know. But we will find the means," he assured her.
Irse absently picked up a pebble and flipped it in her palm. "Odd. Suddenly now we got nothing to do, but I find myself wishing we could make something. Anything."
Okami sighed. "I know what you mean. We have never been truly without commissions until now. So preoccupied with more pressing matters that there was never time to plan and make what I thought would be my greatest work. But now without sure steel, it will remain only a sketch, a hope, and nothing more."
His greatest work? What it could be? Irse rubbed her chin as she pondered the possibilities. Certainly a sword, likely a katana for such was his weapon of choice and of his homeland. The ones they made together, the commissions and the iaito and Irse's own and first sword - all of good work but admittedly none may be considered extraordinary and exceptional as the more highly-priced enchanted blades of legend.
If only they could find some source of iron still fit for forging.
"Do you know where we might get the materials for that?" she asked, yet already knowing the answer. Nowhere.
"Perhaps you know of another source closer to us than Nashkel or the Sunset Mountains?"
Another source? Irse shook her head and gazed up at the night sky. Tonight, it stretched clear over the world and dotted with diamonds, but the elf knew that not all the celestial lights were stars. Brother Karan once told her, and from what she'd read in the navigation book from her Teacher – some of them were other worlds just like Toril, some with life and people and dwellings like theirs. If so, then they would have iron and other metals too.
Oh, if only one were to meet a traveler from one of those spheres and ask them to spare just enough for one last sword. The elf grinned at the incredulous thought. As if such a visitor would willingly break off a piece from their world and drop it down to Toril, just like a…
"Teacher! Stay here a moment, let me… oh, just wait," she blurted out and rose from her spot, earning a baffled look from the blacksmith.
Irse scrambled back to the cottage, diving into her room, hauling out a pack from under the bed where she hid her old things. Through clothes and books and sundries she rummaged, motions oddly familiar. Upon finding that thing she sought, Irse hasted back to where Okami still sat by the stream, the present clutched in her hands and hidden behind, barely keeping her excitement in check.
"Do you remember the time we talked about different kinds of magical steel? Cold iron, alchemical silver, mithral. And adamantine! Do you remember what you told me about adamantine?"
Okami paused, as if in recollection. "Known for its otherworldly hardness. Weapons forged from adamantine can cut through armor, even destroy other weapons. What of it?"
Though giddy, Irse willed herself to remain still. "Do you recall where adamant ore comes from?"
"They are among the rarest in Toril, found only near and within volcanoes or where lava has welled-up from the earth."
"And?" she probed further, craning her neck.
"On occasion, as a meteorite fallen from the heavens. So rare and near unobtainable by common creatures like ourselves." He shrugged with resignation. "It would take a god to draw it from the heart of the earth or pluck one from among the stars and lay it on my…"
And Irse brought out the meteorites and gently placed them on her Teacher's lap.
Startled at the sudden weight, Okami stared astonished at the stones, words fleeing him for a moment. Irse felt some pride at seeing his recognition. In her own eyes, she had thought them ordinary rocks but now she herself could tell. Black and gray and flecked with red and pocked, yet polished to a sheen by fire in the air as it fell from the sky.
"I have seen one of its kind only once and many years ago, barely larger than a pebble. But these with such size and number, how did you come by them?"
Irse looked to the side with an awkward grin. "Well, you happen to know an elf who knew a kobold."
She told him of that day when she got lost while sightseeing in the Lower City at Baldur's Gate, saved a kobold named Deekin from a thug and was rewarded with the meteorites. Or rather, given a pick of any of his treasures and had blindly chosen them.
"Will these be enough for one more blade?" she asked, hopeful.
Okami examined the meteorites and smiled. "More than enough. Though I have never worked with this material before."
Irse smacked a knuckle in a palm. "Have a crumb of faith, Teacher. I know we can do this."
The elf scratched the back of her ear and shrugged sheepishly.
"And if we can't, let's just toss everything in the forge and pray to Tethrin it comes out shaped like a sword!"
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Scribblings:
But will it come out shaped like a sword? XD
Find out in the next installment…. should I survive this week's risk committee meeting at work. ಥ_ಥ
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