As Atie and Isha finished their stories I rose. I was numb, cold. How many of the people I knew were dead? My parents? Probably, Larus? Ninden? I didn't know if they were gone or not. Perhaps some would find me, perhaps not.

“Ida, show these to where they can sleep please, I have work to do.”

“Wait, hold on,” Atie said, stepping in front of me. “You look and smell like death. You need to wash and sleep; then we can talk about whatever you plan to do.”

“What I plan to do is deliver Atal what he desires, and hope that he can slaughter those bastards,” I answered furiously. “Because I'm still not powerful enough to do anything about it.”

“Wash, sleep,” she commanded, not moving an inch.

I could have moved her, could have made her do what I wanted. I very nearly did, until a small hand touched my arm.

“Elian, please,” Isha said, looking worried.

“Fine, you're right, I need to be fresh for what comes next. You two also need to make sure that someone knows what happened. Chien, can you?” I asked.

“I got it boss,” he said, looking at me with concern.

“Good, if you need me, you know where I'll be.”

“Never seen him that mad before,” I heard the boy say as I left the room. “And I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it.”

I could make water, though I wasn't particularly good at it, and using a hot stream to wash myself clean was the work of only a few moments. That done I returned to my room and fell into bed. It took time to calm my mind, for though physically I was spent, mentally I was racing. No matter what I tried I couldn't, and just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

After an hour I was still awake, still unable to find even a wink of rest, tossing and turning. Around that time Isha appeared. She didn't say anything, didn't speak, or ask how I was. Instead she laid down beside me and curled up.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I need somewhere I can feel safe. Without that I'm not sure I'll sleep at all,” she answered without even opening her eyes.

“And you came here?” I said in disbelief.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Of course, I know you're safe to be around. Now let me sleep.”

For a moment I wanted to throw her out and make her go elsewhere, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Nor could I in good conscience disturb her. So I tried to stay still, tried to let her sleep if she could. Then at least one of us would. In moments I found that stilling my body stilled my mind, and the faint rhythm of her breathing as she dreamed gave me something to calm me. I didn't know exactly how long it took, but shortly thereafter I too found rest.

When I returned to the waking world it was dark, and quiet. My rage wasn't gone, but it was hardened like steel. No longer did I burn, but now I felt like a blade, sharper, more ready. I slipped away and into my shop, and there I began the process of forging.

Iron and steel weren't like copper. Copper you mostly cast, only forging the edges, but not iron. No iron had to be forged, beaten and pounded into shape. I wasn't particularly good at it, but with magic to help me I could go fast, and so I did.

I took a billet of steel and lengthened it, made it long and straight, a shaft of deadly metal for those who'd done so much wrong. Then the point went on, a simple bladed edge, pulled out the smallest bit. These would function more like rods from a rail-gun than anything else, but some blade might help, I didn't know for sure.

Once the shape was done I let the whole thing sit to normalize. Steel could be a finicky thing, the internal stresses dangerous. The solution to this was simple, heat it well and then let it sit, either out in the open or in ashes. This fixed the stress, allowing the piece to survive better.

With magic I could work faster than anything short of a machine, and soon had half a dozen of the spears resting. In the afternoon I would retake work on them. I didn't know how long that would take, but the time would be well spent.

Then I worked on the thrower, much like the one I'd already made for the ancient warrior. Getting it to the right shape was weird, the metal moving this way and that almost like clay as I worked it into shape. Once I was happy with it I put it too to the side, sure that it would be even more breakable than the spears, but in a very different way.

For ammo, well, rocks would probably do. I considered making them of iron as well, but worried that the added weight would destroy the thrower even faster. It shouldn't matter much that they weren't as hard. At the speed Atal moved even a stone would be deadly.

Several of the spheres in the bell in my shop rang. Wondering what the issue was now I went upstairs. There I found the women in my house involved in a glaring competition, food laid on my little table in a spread.

“What did you need?” I asked the three of them.

“I know you don't like being disturbed, but they were insistent,” Ida said first, indicating the other two.

“You need to eat nephew,” Auntie Atie said. “Regardless of what she thinks.” Isha nodded along to the side in agreement.

“Fine,” I answered. “I was at a good enough stopping point anyway. What about you reporting the attack?”

“An elder by the name of Shorin came by to speak with us. He asked after you, but we knew you were busy, so...” Isha said.

“Good, Shorin's an ally of sorts,” I said with a pleased nod. If they were sending him out then someone was taking this seriously. “I'll make my delivery to Atal tomorrow, perhaps speak with him then.”

“Are you really on speaking terms with him?” Auntie Atie asked as I ate.

“Yes,” I answered shortly. “He likes my weapons. Sent me a bunch of beads, and Ida over there to help.”

“Did he now,” Isha said, giving the other girl a narrow eyed look.

“Indeed, which I didn't ask for. If I send her back to him though he's not likely to take kindly to that, so I'm letting her stay and help. She sleeps in the room down here.” I hoped that the last part would clear up the relationship between us with Isha. I liked her, and didn't want her angrily jealous at a girl I'd never actually been with.

“I see,” she said, seemingly not totally convinced, but mollified.

“Now if you'll excuse me, I've work to return to.” In the time it had taken to speak I'd finished. “Thank you for the food.”

Once I was satisfied that my steel had cooled on its own I hardened the spear tips. The thrower didn't need such a thing, but I'd found that with points and blades this helped. Rather than water or oil, or something insane like the urine of a redheaded virgin, or blood I found that rather a mix of extremely soapy water and salt worked best. It was weird, and the points sounded like they were screaming as they cooled in the mix, but they came out harder than I could have hoped for.

Some day I would figure out how to integrate magic in these, but for now something deadly was needed, and it would be had.