“I love you, too,” Petrik says sarcastically.
“Enough. You do as you wish, but if you come between me and the smithy again, I will not be so lenient.”
“Leave her be.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve never asked you for anything. Not once. But I’m asking now. Leave my friends alone. Let them go. Give up this mission you have. The economy is finally settling after the rift that splitting the kingdom wrought on Ghadra. Don’t stir it up again by trying to control everything. There’s peace. Leave it that way.”
“You were too young to remember what things were like before Arund split the realm. You have no idea how that ruined everything.”
“I don’t care. I’m still asking. Let them go. Let this go. You have enough men and power to take everything even without the bladesmith. Let her live her life.”
“We’re done talking now.”
There’s a silence. I don’t know if Petrik is staring his mother down or something else. I can’t hear anything more that may be happening outside.
Until, “Ziva, come out. You’ve had a chance to say your goodbyes. I’ve been more than patient with you. It’s time to go.”
Temra, Kellyn, and I hold our newly magicked weapons. My sister and my—and Kellyn both nod their readiness.
And we exit, weapons held at the ready.
Kymora’s eyes narrow at the metal in our hands. Temra wields the pitchfork, using it like a staff while she walks. Kellyn has his longsword unsheathed, both hands wrapped around the hilt. And I have my hammers, one magicked in my left, and a regular forging hammer in my right.
Petrik steps into line with us. Temra wordlessly hands him the axle, her jaw clenched tightly. She didn’t think he would side with us. I told her he would.
But she’s still pissed.
Kymora looks at our line, says nothing, and backs up to her horse. She saddles herself once more. Thankfully, no one else appears to have a spear or other throwables.
“Bring me the girls. Kill the boys.”
She looks at Petrik as she says it.
Her private army all drop down from their horses one by one, unsheathing their bastard swords. And then they advance.
We keep the forge at our backs so no one can get behind us. But we spread out, give ourselves plenty of room to swing.
And then we swing hard.
Petrik doesn’t need to ask what the long stick of metal does before using it. He throws, watches as the tool turns end over end, striking soldiers as it goes. The axle is entirely made of metal, not so breakable as the staff was, and it spins impossibly fast. Once he catches it, he casts again. And again. And again.
The first soldier reaches me, where I stand wielding my twin hammers. He swings at my right hand, hoping to dislodge the weapon there, all the more easily to capture me. But I raise my left hand, point the hammer there right at him. His sword bounces off the invisible shield my magicked hammer creates, rebounding with the same amount of force with which it struck. He staggers backward, and I use the distraction to swing my dominant arm at him.
I may not be a fighter, but I know how to swing a hammer hard, and I do. The soldier is shorter than I am, so it’s no hardship to bring the tool down on his head.
The sound my hammer makes as it connects with the skull is something I’ll never forget. But I swallow the bile in my throat and prepare to do it again.
Temra is right beside me, holding out the pitchfork in both her hands. I worry for her. The tool is heavy, too heavy for her to use for an extended amount of time, but she doesn’t show any fatigue yet.
She catches the sword swinging straight down at her between two of the tines. With a simple twist, the sword breaks in two, the magic of the pitchfork keeping the prongs strong and giving them the ability to break anything that comes between them. The soldier doesn’t have time to stare at his broken weapon for long before Temra sticks him with the spikes.
Kellyn fights as he usually does, unable to use his sword’s magic just yet.
But the opportunity presents itself soon.
Eventually, the bodies pile up, and we have to maneuver around them in order to use our weapons. Kellyn steps away from the forge, which allows a few men to get behind him.
While I was staring at Kellyn’s fire-heated sword back in the forge, begging my own brain for inspiration on what to do with it, I remembered the soldiers surrounding us on all sides of the forge.
Kellyn is already a good fighter. What he needs is something to assist if he’s overrun with enemies. It’s the only time I’ve seen him thwarted.