Unholy Star, Beyond Faith

Reiko Ironheart

[Six months earlier at an uncharted village, Planet Skye]

Steam and smoke filled the timber-walled room; so too did the giant, Reiko as he stood above the anvil striking down on a bar of steel with the hammer he fondly called Ugly Boy. The floor of the tree-top smithy shook at every strike forming a rhythm of sound and vibration as his assistants, two of them, pulled the top arm of a mighty pair of bellows that piped air to the red hot bed of charcoal in the steel-cased forge.

With a pair of tongs as long as his helpers were tall, Reiko picked up his iron and poked it deep into the hot coals. Embers flew up the chimney.

"Faster!" he ordered the assistants, frustrated that the metal was not getting up to heat fast enough. After a moment, he lost patience and took over the piping of air. Soon he gave back the bellows and pulled out the thick rod that was just starting to spark orange-white hot.He turned to the anvil and, folding the metal over onto itself, continued to hammer.

This continued in a seemingly never-ending cycle of hammer, heat, and repeat. Occasionally one of the helpers would take a bucket of water and throw it over the floor or a wall to ensure sparks or a wayward ember would not take to the wooden structure. Finally, late into the night, the hammering lessened in force, moving from a thunderstrike to delicate dance across the surface of the black metal and then with a wire brush and final heat, the blade was placed aside to cool naturally.

Reiko stood back to admire his work. "Get Tabbie, will you," he motioned to one of his men."No need." An old woman, dressed in simple hand-woven, natural threads, moved forward from the corner.

The smith let out a hmph, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Five minutes? Five hours? What does it matter?

"So this is it?" She said, but smart enough not to reach out and touch the steel that was still hot enough to severely burn her skin. "I've never seen anything like it. It's beautiful."

"Thank you." He replied, waiting for the 'but'.

"But, don't you think it might be a bit big for the man, after all, he's nothing but a stick."

"No, I remember him in his prime, when he was a strong man. He will be a strong man again.

"A lucky man. How many folds?"

"At least fifty."

"Is he worth fifty?"

"No, he is worth ten times that--to us."

The next day Reiko was at the forge before dawn. He started the fire and wet down the room before picking up his work that was resting like a grey prince on the pitted steel of the oversized anvil. It was very light for the big man, but he weighed the balance and judged it would be okay once the cross-guard and pommel were placed over the tang.

He moved it over to the gentle heat of the fresh pit of charcoal and proceeded to get the top of the blade up to a deep red heat. When his assistant smiths arrived for their daily work, he dismissed them figuring their nattering would be more of a distraction rather than use on this particular day when he would add the decoration; for this, he needed complete concentration.

The next several hours Reiko spent, tapping a design that, when completed, formed a double helix pattern of tightly interlocked star punches. The effect was rustic, but anyone who looked at it would have marveled at the craftsmanship.

He was almost done with the design on the lump of steel that would form the pommel when one of the village girls interrupted. "He's awake!"

"Really? Well, I'm not ready. Tell him to go back to sleep, or better still, you need a husband, huh? This one is one of the greatest men in the Galaxy maybe keep him happy with that cute body of yours until I'm ready?"

"Fuck off, Reiko! If you think he's so great, you sleep with him."

Hmph, he shrugged, "Maybe I will. But for now, get him something to eat and tell Tabbie that I'll be up tonight for dinner."

The girl left, and the smith shut down the fire as he wouldn't need the heat to grind the edge of the blade.

Much later, Reiko called for his helpers to get the fire ready again for the quench that would harden the blade and, after that, it didn't take long before the weapon was done. All he needed to do was strap in the baar bone hilt and hone the edges.

***

"You didn't even bathe!" Tabbie chided the big man as he walked into the kitchen that doubled as a dining area for their tree-top cabin. A small fire was going in the metal hearth, helping the large oil lantern hanging above the table to light the room.

At the head of the table garbed in simple hand-made tunic and pants provided by his hosts was the three-hundred and eight-five-year-old man, Tiger. His complexion was ghostly white and his cheeks hollow, but he looked alert, fresh, and young. Still as skinny as he was before his drug-induced gefresh, the guest stood and nodded to the big man as Reiko entered the room ducking only slightly under the extra high, purpose-built doorway.

Reiko moved over to shake Tiger's hand. "Don't worry about her," he motioned to his wife, "she forgets that I only ever bathe in the blood of my enemies."

"Is okay," replied Tiger, his voice now deep and firm. "I've smelled worse."

Reiko sat in his Reiko-sized chair, and the three ate a wholesome meal of meat broth and bread as if they were old friends. After he had drained four of his large bowls, Reiko picked out a lump of meat from behind a canine, sat back, and belched. The vibrations shook the table.

"Well, is it ready?" asked Tabbie, her keen eyes sparkling in the firelight beneath a fringe of grey.

"What are you talking about woman, is what ready?"

She kicked him under the table, and he jumped up in pantomime style, "Oh, that." Reiko then retrieved the weapon that he had left outside beyond the door.

Tiger stood again as Reiko reentered the room with the blade. In his great hands, the sword seemed rather short, but as he passed it hilt first over the top of the table to the smaller man, its dimensions seemed to grow.

"It is beautiful!" exclaimed Tiger and reached to take it, "A true work of art," He said gripping the hilt, whereby Reiko dropped the blade, and the heavy metal fell with a clang to the table.

A sheepish Tiger, unable to support its weight apologised, "I'm so sorry, it seems I am still too weak to handle such a heavy thing."

"Pretty Boy." corrected Reiko, "it's not a thing. It is called Pretty Boy."

"I'm sorry."

Tabbie and Reiko laughed hard until Reiko finally admitted, "It is okay, General, You can call him whatever you want, he belongs to you now."

Tiger sat back down in shock. Then, at Tabbie's prompting, picked up the blade. It was heavy for him, but not too large. He examined the detailed decoration and ran a thumb along the bevels of the edge. "Oh, wow, it's sharp."

Reiko nodded. "Sharp enough."

The wise general's expression suddenly shifted to a stern, focussed look that would have seemed almost comical on an elderly face, but now his outlook was clearly dangerous, and with his sharp chiseled features, almost deadly. Tiger looked into Reiko's dark eyes and asked directly, "Sharp enough, for what?"