Chaos, Penllyn Chronicles #7 EBOOK

“Will it work? Can we unmake the magical blade?”

“I do not know, Lord Cadoc,” Guto the smith said. He waved at where Gwen and Seren were inspecting the thick stone and mortar construction. “The new mortar yer father has commissioned may hold up to the heat. I cannot be sure it’s enough…”

“My sister and Lady Gwen can generate much heat,” Cadoc said. “Usually with just a glare or a stern glance.”

Emlyn, next to him, allowed the hint of a smile to creep back into his cheeks. It was gone in a flash, but it was enough that I saw his old Neirin personality shine through for an instant.

Seren looked at him, a finger out for a scolding. Instead she stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to finish the inspection. Cadoc laughed. Emlyn’s eyes still had a touch of his Neirin spark. He was here to watch the potential for the unmaking of one of his precious silver blades. A seax, not a sword. He would not allow Seren and Guto to experiment on more than one of the blades until they proved they knew the process of unmaking and remaking the magic-infused silver metal.

“If it weren’t for Mair’s cold feet,” Bleddyn said, “we wouldn’t even be trying to get the concrete made. Unfortunately, we’re having to rediscover the art of making mortar and concrete. The masons, who are used to shaping and piling stones, didn’t even know they could mix sand and lime to make this mortar.” He pointed at the piles of snow around the base of the hill on which Caer Penllyn sat. “At least with the furnace you’ve built, it doesn’t have to last a lifetime. I hope your furnace, mortar or not, won’t crack in the chill.”

“I’ve fired many a furnace in the winter, milord,” Guto replied. “We’ve warmed this furnace gradually over three days. I’ve only added the black glow-rock this morning.”

Three young men, smith’s apprentices, worked the bellows off to either side of the furnace. The heat was not bad yet. I sat on a camp chair with my feet an arm’s length from the opening in the front of the large round furnace. For once, this winter my feet felt warm. Today wasn’t a cold day. Chilly, but neither wet nor frigid.

“This may hold up,” Gwen said. She and Seren stood. “We can find no obvious faults, even searching with our magical senses.”

“Do you want me to add more fuel, milady?”

“If you would, goodman,” Gwen said. “Place the mould first. If we get this hot enough to melt the silver blade, it would be a shame to waste the effort for a puddle of slag at the bottom of the furnace.”

“Add more glow-stones, lads.” Guto waved to his apprentices. One began to shovel the black rock into the opening of the furnace. More youths manned the other two bellows, five in all. I stood and moved my chair back. Without a magical shield, the fire was about to become unbearable up close. Cadoc and Bleddyn, wrapped in furs, had opened their cloaks and removed their thick gloves. Despite the comfort of the fire, they both eyed the fire with looks of concern.

“How is Caerwyn?” I asked Cadoc.

“Much better when Seren came for me yesterday,” he said. “His lungs are strong enough that he likes to ride along the cliffs by the old caer at Tal y Garreg when the weather is warm.”

“Good,” Bleddyn added. “My friend has been declining faster that I had hoped. I’d rather he stay around and give you more instruction and insight before you take over his role.”

“There is little you and Caerwyn haven’t taught me about running a cantref,” Cadoc said. “You are correct, though, he knows far more than I ever will about how Meirionnydd works. He could stay another decade, and I still wouldn’t know what he does.”

“I felt the same way when Emlyn returned and told me that Gather was dead,” Bleddyn said. Behind him, Guto waved for the young men at the bellows to quicken their pace.

The heat from the furnace reached out and slapped us. We all took a step or two back, except for Seren and Gwen. They both crouched behind the furnace, their hands extended around the stones.

“What exactly are they doing?” Cadoc asked.

“Seren has set a magical shield to block the heat, so she and Gwen can be close,” I said.

“I think I see a ripple in the air,” Bleddyn said. “And around the bellows, too.”

“That was Gwen’s idea,” I said. “After we set a bellows and apprentice to smoking this fall, she thought it wise to protect them.”

“Is there a reason that they don’t shield the entire furnace and keep all the heat in?” Cadoc asked. “That might help the blade melt.”

“Seren and Guto spent several days discussing that idea,” I said.

Bleddyn nodded agreement. He had sat through several hours of back and forth between Guto, the masons, and Seren.

“Gwen can’t contain the heat inside her magical wall,” I continued. “Some has to leak out. The larger the area contained, the more Gwen has to work to maintain the shield. Even then, Guto is afraid the furnace won’t hold under the heat. He wants somewhere for the new heat from their magic to escape.”

“Seems like a waste,” Cadoc added and shrugged.

“If only we could get the mix right for the concrete,” Bleddyn said. “Water and sand, we have plenty of. The concrete is the elusive bit. The masons are trying to recover a lost art the Romans took with them when they left Britain.”

“At least my desire for warm feet is keeping your masons busy,” I said. “Has Heilyn gotten his monks to find any references in their books?”

“He’s sending monks around to other monasteries,” Bleddyn said. “His own piles of manuscripts don’t have any references to what we need.”

We stood and watched Seren and Gwen concentrate on the fire for several moments. Guto prowled the edge the furnace. He’d clear his throat, then motion to Seren when she glanced at him. Her shield encircled the furnace.

“We’re ready, dearest,” Gwen sent.

“Excuse me,” I said. “They’ve finally decided I’m useful for something.”

I stood behind my sisters of magic and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Open yourself to the magic,” Gwen said. “I’ll pull what we need. Seren will assist and keep her senses on the silver blade to trace the enchantment on it.”

I did as requested. Of all of us, I was the most magical of creatures, being undead, but the least able to manipulate the magic of the goddess. The best I could usually manage was to light up my blades with it, although I could channel a lot of it when the occasion demanded. That’s how I drove the ancient death cloud out of Dunstan’s corpse last autumn. I pulled in an obnoxious amount of the energy of the goddess, then released it through the Sword of Light, or Arthur’s sword. I did that once to drive it from Dunstan and another time to finally kill the cloud. Or so we hoped.

“Now your energy, dearest,” Gwen sent. “I’ll mix our feeds and let Seren do the rest.”

A mental nod was my contribution to the conversation. I understood the concept, but not how they’d execute all of this. Gwen was skilled in channelling large amounts of magic. Seren’s skills lay in the fine nuances of seeing and manipulating.

My role? When I wasn’t acting as a reservoir of even more magic for Gwen to pull from, I just worried about who I had to stick my swords into next. Right now, Fadog was even with Brother Twm on that list. Whatever Yellow Eyes was, he occupied Twm now.

However, as Bleddyn was fond of saying, Fadog was Fadog. No one in the world seemed more appropriate to have a deep discussion with my swords than the former lord of Fadog. He was an all-around back-stabbing pain in the arse.

“Dearest! Concentrate,” Gwen scolded. “Your thoughts are creating surges.”

“Sorry. I was thinking of having a pointed discussion with Ffransys of Fadog.”

“That’s enough to cause all of us to have surges in our power,” Seren added. She turned her attention back to the blaze. Her thoughts directed Gwen’s push of divine energy around the furnace. The heat of the fire danced white hot in the surrounding air. Had it not been for the magical shield they maintained, I would have needed to back away from the blaze. Even with the shield, I wanted to drop my cloak due to the heat.

Sweat beaded on both Gwen and Seren’s faces as they worked to push the energy even hotter. The fire flickered above the top of the stone chimney. It was as tall as Cadoc, the flames as white as Caerwyn’s hair. The little hair he had left.

Gwen increased her pull from me. Until then, she’d only used a little of what I could draw from the land. We’d used the concept of a waterfall often, but the source of the waterfall reminded me of a wide river. Where we drew our power from was where the flow fell off a broad ledge in the preternatural world. The wide and powerful tumble gave us each a torrent of energy.

Although I had no direct way of measuring the flow we each maintained, Seren’s seemed lighter than what Gwen or I pulled. What surprised me was that my link seemed even larger than Gwen’s. She was the part of our trio who could manipulate the largest amounts of the goddess’s magic. Yet I, the undead magical creature, had the ability to draw far more than she.

Gwen kept her eyes closed as she concentrated on the fire. Seren did likewise. I watched both of them and looked across at the men. Guto had his leather apron, mask, and gloves on, with long tongs in hand.

Bleddyn and Cadoc both stood wide-eyed, mouths open. Each held a hand up to shield their eyes from the white glow of the furnace. Emlyn stood nearby with a half smile behind his raised hand. All of them had taken several steps back from the inferno.

“Ah!” Seren sent. “I see the pattern of the spell used to make the—”

A loud crack sizzled in the air. Then another. The light of the blaze flashed at me. I clenched my hands into fists and pushed back with my legs, dragging Gwen and Seren with me. We landed in a heap near the cliff face, a good dozen paces away from the furnace. A blast of intense heat slammed us, and then Seren got her shield back in place.

“Sorry,” I sent. “Didn’t mean to disturb your concentration. I just didn’t want to be under the rocks when they collapsed.”

Gwen spread power around the fire and created another heat shield to protect the others from the remains of the fire. The rocks of the crumbled furnace, half collapsed, still glowed red in places. The crucible, on which the silver seax of the Witch Hunters still sat, seemed undamaged by the broken furnace.

“Thank you, dearest,” Gwen sent. She had landed on top of me, with Seren sprawled across her. Gwen gave me a kiss on the cheek before she stood.

“Pull the seax out, Guto,” Seren called. Her magical senses pushed back into the blaze. I felt a surge from her.

“Got it!”

Guto grabbed the blade with his tongs. Bleddyn whistled in astonishment as the smith stepped back.

An intricate latticework of lines, more complicated than any of the Celtic artistic designs that Iolo carved, now glowed on the seax’s surface. This was one of the long seaxes. As long as any Cymry sword. Thankfully the Witch Hunters had preferred to enchant longer blades than most Saxons carried. Fighting with a long seax took different techniques than fighting with a sword. But if they had to switch to the silver weapons, the added reach of the longer seax would help someone who had trained with swords.

Seren’s energy pulsed. The men would not see it, but Gwen and I sensed it. The glowing pattern on the silver blade darkened.

“I locked it into the surface,” Seren sent.

“What is that?” Cadoc asked.

We all gathered around the anvil where Guto laid the blade. Seren waved him off as he grabbed his hammer.

“The spell,” she said. “We might have broken the furnace, but we found the pattern the Witch Hunter wizards used to enchant and make the blades. Give me some time, and I should be able to unravel it.”

“Which means?” Bleddyn asked.

“She can unmake the blade and let the metal flow,” Emlyn said. “Can you duplicate it and lock the silver into new shapes like swords?”

“If I understand the spell enough to unmake it, then I can remake it,” Seren said.

“It will be good to get these made into swords our men are skilled with,” Emlyn added, then glanced at Seren. Both she and Gwen had their eyes closed again. Iolo enchanted his whisper amulets, the magical Celtic symbols he carved, so whoever broke one could send a message to both Gwen and Seren. I guessed they were listening to an incoming message.

Iolo had tried to include me in the alerts that came in when someone snapped an amulet. Something about my undead nature, however, blocked his magic.

Seren kept her eyes closed and swallowed. Gwen pulled her regal persona, that of Gwenhwyfar, former queen, to the forefront. She stood straight and tall and turned towards Cadoc.

“Lady Meirionnydd urgently requests your presence, Lord Regent. Her father died in a fall today.”