The Arkanist

The Arcane

“To work a forge, lad,” said Hardhands, “you need to be focused, mentally and physically. You need to be aware what you’re working with. Iron, steel, sometimes even stone. Think of them as a babe, just out of the womb. You have to shape them into existence, and make them have an identity of their own. Shaping the iron is at the heart of what we do, and shaping a child’s life is the beginnings for all of us.” He grabbed the blade again. “A bad analogy, I know, but when you look at me, do you see a master of words?” He laughed deep, his stomach heaving as Aera shook her head.

Aera was watching him beat the hammer into the iron blade, her hands slightly burned and blistered, when the ranger arrived before the smithy. He was a tall man, and cloaked in all black with a large coat of pale white fur about his shoulders. A long black scabbard hung at his waist with the hilt of a sword hidden under his robes. Hardhands continued working. “Like me to forge you another blade, Haerun? I reckon the last one was a fine piece of steel, I must say. Some of my best work there.” Aera looked over to the training grounds where another ranger was talking to Alistairr. She saw the rangers hurry off somewhere as Haerun crunched up under the canopy.

The ranger shook his black-haired head, his face wild with distress. “You might want to see this, Hardhands,” he said, breathing hard as if he’d just run up the Shuddering Tower and back again. “You all might.”

The main courtyard was teeming with rangers when they arrived. There was an eerie silence about the yard even with so many people, and the winds screamed ominously. The sky was beginning to darken to a charcoal grey, with spears of grey slicing through the massive clouds. Snow fell heavy, coating everybody in a fine dust of white. Aera followed close behind Quyrun as he bound through the gathered crowd. She was stopped by an arm and pulled back as Hardhands continued on.

It was Willyam. He was about near the inner rim of the crowd. He put his finger to his lips and snuck on to the front, where they could see a shadow approaching through the main gates. It was hidden behind the grey barrage of snow and ash, but it seemed to be the shape of a horse, with a man on the back, hunched, almost falling off. It was a ranger, they all could see as the rider grew closer, and the horns thundered from the high battlements. As the ranger passed under the massive stone gates, the winds screamed, which dulled Aera’s own.

The horse was dead, clearly. Its skin had been ripped away rigidly and hung loose in patches, dangling from its emaciated body. Blood drenched the creature, and the rest of its body was bone. It trotted with a sense of false direction and its eyes burned blue. The ranger was garbed in tattered black and he hung onto the skeletal figure of the dead horse as it walked, bony hooves crunching through snow. Drips of blood dotted the white sea as it went. Hardhands approached the horse, as did another ranger.

Will leaned into Aera’s ear. “That’s Errich, that is.” He whispered. “Several months ago they sent him north on a scouting mission to the Gap of Varrin and if need be onwards into Vorae. They lost signal with him a good two months ago. Thought he was dead, taken by the endless winters up there. Him and Ollor were good friends, killed Ollor that he couldn’t go too.”

“Why didn’t he go?” Aera asked.

“He was off on a recruiting trip,” answered Will. “Up in Alderon. Dangerous business going up into Alderon these days. Nearly drove Ollor mad to do it, but Harnwor insisted there’d be nice recruits.”

Aera listened as Will continued to talk, watching the dead horse. When the ranger, Orrus, neared it, the beast lifted onto its hind legs and cried out, screeching across the darkening sky. The temperature suddenly dropped, and Aera felt it in her bones as they quivered. Orrus went to heave the ranger down, but as he touched him, Errich sprang to life, steel flashing and sliced it across Orrus’ neck, his neck running red with blood as it flowed down his cloak. Orrus crumbled to the ground with a song of steel as all the other rangers drew weapons and shouted.