THEY reached the smithy not soon after their conversation ended; the street was rather busy at that time with some onlookers gazing up and the four of them wondered what it was they were enamored over. They shifted their gazes upward and not a moment later were their mouths held agape. Out of all the other buildings about them, this one had a wide circular base and upon its top was a large cone, tiled in spirals with seven chimneys surrounding the tip. Yet what was of greater importance was what stood at the tip of that cone, for that was where the symbol of the Fiyukthi, covered in thick black smoke, shined through like myriad metals combined with the hues of gold and silver, and this grand sight put both awe and confusion within them. The light was so strong that it covered even the sky, tinting even the clouds within their view: its potency like that of the orb of the Drasūvayeznd.
It was no exaggeration to say that the elements of this valley truly did seem like the Heavens cherished it, not only in its nature but also in the things wrought by its children, and this symbol stood clear toward that statement even more so than the valley resting atop the grand tree. Dhīṇahi pointed to that, seeming to wish to go up there and see it closer.
But the priestess shook her head. “While I too wish to to get a nearer look, there are no steps leading up there, and I would think the smith would not be much happy with us if we were to get there by other means without his assent. And I would not like it very much if you suddenly became covered in ash and soot. In any case, we are here after all to get something for Iḷēhaḥ, are we not?”
Dhīṇahi pouted but nodded her head, and the priestess tapped her head.
Feyūnhaḥ snapped her fingers in front of Iḷēhaḥ who broke from her daze.
“Ah? Um, what?” the maiden said blinking and shaking her head a few times. Feyūnhaḥ pointed to the grand wooden doors and Iḷēhaḥ said, “Ah! Ah, yes, let us go see the smith!”
And leaving the mesmerized onlookers, they made their way inside.
The interior was unexpected to say the least, being not as grand as the exterior. There were around five levels within the building sectioned off seemingly into their own compartments whereby they could see all the levels stacked above one another through the large gaps between them. As was typical of such places, weapons, armors, and tools of all kinds were crafted and polished and tossed into various piles or hung upon the walls. There even seemed to be a shop on the far side of the first level with many Mrigūhvha perusing through the wares.
Yet it struck them as odd, that no Dvı̄sahlvah or even the ore to make it, was anywhere about the place, given that it was well known in such work unlike the one in Siḍhrehḷūr, and that many had come here for the chief purpose of obtaining one. In fact, barring its peculiarities, it seemed like quite the normal smithy. And unlike the one they visited in Siḍhrehḷūr, it was quite sweltering. No doubt they could not do much to keep the place open, for fear of agitating the trees with their open flames.
“Is this indeed the right place?” asked Iḷēhaḥ. “I do not deny Zvarañt’s words when he recommended this shop, but there is hardly anything here that could be said to be of use in crafting the Dvı̄sahlvah. Are we sure we have not made a mistake?”
“It very well should be the right place,” said Feyūnhaḥ looking over her small paper map. “This is the only smithy on the eastern side of town, and that glowing emblem at its pinnacle I think should confirm it to be at least a special smithy of some sort, though now I don’t know if its glow has any use other than looking pretty.”
“Well, let us find the master of this shop!” said Aiṛth, sweating and panting. “I wish not to cause trouble, but I fear as if I shall catch on fire inside here!”
“Now, that’s a surprise!” said Feyūnhaḥ, laughing, “And I thought you to be nigh indestructible inside those robes of yours.”
“No, no, do you not remember how I became sick multiple times under these clothes. If only I was not bound by oath to keep these upon my person, I would have very well cast them off early on in our journey!” she said sighing and Dhīṇahi laughed at that.
Walking around the shop, they talked with the various smiths and apprentices who kept redirecting them to one or the other, for they were much too busy across the five levels, and talking to at least thirty or so individuals, they finally happened on an elderly Mrigūhvha, who had a loud gray beard, with a bald head and shining horns that twirled at their tips. And while he was old, it would be a mistake to think he had grown dull, for his eyes were keen and his bearing strong, standing taller than all of them by at least a foot.
“Very interesting: a maiden, an Autirsāh—ho! I have not seen your kind in quite a long time, but excuse me—a priestess, and also a child? What brings you four strange individuals here today?” asked the elderly Mrigūhvha who was polishing some tools in his workshop.
They were now at the highest level, lit by many torches and a grand furnace, and all across the walls was soot and ash, staining what would otherwise have been finely crafted pieces of weapon and armor that seemed to have been in their fair share of battles. Long blades that one would no doubt think seem maddening to use in battle, thick cuirasses that looked heavy enough enough to crash through the wooden floor, and many-layered pieces of chain-mail and fhorlia outfitted with several interlocking rings that were seamlessly strung together like golden ornaments on a necklace. Yet the marring of their surface did not at all detract from the fine craftsmanship displayed upon it.
But while such things took hold of their interest, they could not keep their attention to it for long, as the air was so dusty, putrid, and stifling that they could not help but cough.
“Salutations, smith!” said Iḷēhaḥ as she coughed. “We have come in order to have a Dvı̄sahlvah crafted from this here ore.”
She took out the ore, while still coughing, and presented it to the elderly Mrigūhvha.
He squinted his eyes that now seemed pushed down by the large heavy wrinkles on his forehead. Then they suddenly opened wide and he said, “Ho! Never did I think such ore as pure and as glimmering as this could be found. It’s been ages since I last saw any of this make. Tell me, maiden, where might you have procured this?”
Iḷēhaḥ continued to cough, but it became much worse as both she and the others began to feel the dizzy and light-headed and a great pain from their throat as if being choked. “Might we go somewhere else, we can barely breathe here!”
The smith gave an odd look and then as if coming to a realization, he said, “Ah! Yes, yes, let us move from here. Not even the other smiths or apprentices can stand being in this place for much long.”
He quickly moved from his table, and in the center of the room reached above with his long hands, and pulled a small string attached above. On releasing, the string vanished in the ceiling, and a circular incision appeared. And that incision lining the perimeter of what was a base, descended, revealing a spiral staircase that moved into the luminous area above.
“Come now, lest you go unconscious!”
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And they in haste ran at his call, and made up the stairs as he followed behind.
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The grandeur of the space humbled the ladies, as they could see light pervading all about them with seemingly no end in sight, as if they stood in the very center of the sun. The heaviness of the foul air had lifted, and it felt even more refreshing than what was outside. And then when they looked above they saw against the light, at the very pinnacle, an even greater light that shined with the same luminous luster as the emblem above.
Iḷēhaḥ said, “How does such heavenly light maintain itself in this place? I could not even see this light peeking through the cracks in the wall or ceiling from the outside.”
“Of course you couldn’t, maiden!” said the smith, laughing. “This area, as one could say, exists not in the middle sphere. Yet nonetheless, I have to let some of the light from here leak through to the outside, so that the emblem above the shop isn’t obscured by the smoke. Ah! if only I could’ve constructed this shop in a better way, but no matter, work can still be done.” He went to a station on the far side, filled with rather obscure and oddly shaped tools of variegated color. He took a small pick (or one that looked small in his hands) and a rather large hammer. “Now strange maiden in the wedding raiment, might you hand over that ore.”
“Quite rude,” said Iḷēhaḥ, pouting, “I have a name you know. ’Tis Iḷēhaḥ: for I am One who Adores That, and this is certainly not a wedding raiment, thought I must say it looks similar to one.”
He took a closer look and on seeing the absence of the sigils of the Gods, he laughed, “Hah! Right you are, Iḷēhaḥ.”
She handed him the ore, and holding it in his weathered hands, he squinted to get a closer look. “Aye! This is not your regular ore; from where does this hail?”
“We got it as gift from the King Ashphaḥhyēma: ruler of the Gazhigam of Gazhigashrahthya, residing deep within the Earth, in caves fashioned—on their account—by the Foremother Ārhmanhaḥ.”
His eyes gleamed and a great smile came over his face. “They are still here after all! And I thought them to have vanished upon the end of that great war. But they most likely do not have much remaining if at all. Yes, I would guess this is that last of what they had.”
“How can you tell?” said Feyūnhaḥ. “They made no indication to us that this was the last of what they had. In fact they made it seem they had more than enough for themselves.”
“Well, if that were certainly the case, then I shouldn’t be seeing this streak marring the surface of the ore.”
They were confused and took a closer look, squinting as he did. And as sure as could be, they saw a thin yellow streak lining the crevices of the ore almost as if staining it. But it was very faint and did not seem to them to really pose any trouble.
“This streak suggests that this was the remainder at the end of a deposit that can only be sought after having stripped away the outer surfaces. And procuring the last remnants of such a thing, is quite arduous. It could take, well on, over a year to mine this away, even with the tough and hard weapons of the Gazhigam who are indeed experts within the field, and when it its at last retrieved and processed this streak develops across it. Yet they don’t give away such ore easily; in fact there was only a few times they had done so in days of old.”
“But that still doesn’t explain how you know this to be the last of the ore,” said Feyūnhaḥ. “I would like to think that we didn’t take away from the Gazhigam a prize possession, one that I feel we’re hardly deserving.”
“’Tis not as if we stole their treasures, Feyūnhaḥ!” said Iḷēhaḥ. “I am sure there was good reason for them to give us this; perhaps for instance they had little need for it, since they expect us to seek pardon for them to return to the Heavens.”
“Oh, now this is quite interesting!” said the smith. “Might you tell me more of this, Iḷēhaḥ, Feyūnhaḥ I presume, and—oh yes who are you priestess and child?”
“Salutations, smith!” said Aiṛth, bowing with folded hands. “I am Aiṛthyavā: for I am one Strives to be Infinite in all my Purposings, but you may call me Aiṛth, and this here is a companion of ours named, Dhīṇahi: for she is as like the Rays of the Day.”
Dhīṇahi nodded with a smile.
“She unfortunately cannot speak as of yet, but glad are we to be here in your presence, O respected Varizhhō!”
“You needn’t treat me as some special person, blessed priestess,” said the smith, laughing, “but oh! I’ve yet to give you my name.” He cleared his throat and said, “Welcome respected patrons, to my shop! I am called, Vimavrazhhaḥm and I am the master of this here place! But as for how I know this to be the last of the ore, well it may come as a surprise, but this chunk you brought me is itself telling me that’s the case.”
And they gave him odd looks thinking he was mad. Dhīṇahi however looked at the ore and tried to mumble something to it, to which the smith bellowed a great laugh and patted her on the head.
“I can quite well see that you think me to have lost my senses, but it’s true, the ore speaks, not as us mind you—you could not very well hold a conversation with it, but it gives hints and suggestions as to its nature.”
“I always thought my brother to be jesting whenever he spoke of ‘the Dvı̄sahlvah having minds of their own’, but to think that was really the case,” said Feyūnhaḥ, shaking her head with a slap to her forehead. She unsheathed her daggers and looked at the Dvı̄sahlvah embedded inside them and sighed. “I guess I can understand now why these Dvı̄sahlvah don’t seem to have the potency of the others I’ve seen in other hands. They probably just don’t like me or my brother.”
“Well, it’s not truly a case of likes or dislikes or them having minds per se,” said the smith, “for the Dvı̄sahlvah much like the powers are something to be attuned with. And quite normal it is that some just don’t possess well attunement in regards to such things.”
“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it then,” said Feyūnhaḥ, putting the daggers away.
“Are you planning on breaking the ore, however, master?” asked Aiṛth.
Vimavrazhhaḥm raised his eyebrows and then looked to the pick and hammer and then laughed again, saying, “No, no, priestess! In fact let me show you what they are for right this moment.”
He placed the ore on the floor while Dhīṇahi went close to it and sat on her toes, curious what the smith was going to do with it. Kneeling on the other side, he placed the small pick against a sharp protruding tip atop the ore and with power and swiftness behind his motion, he struck the pick! and a loud sound rung and echoed through the hall of light.
They heard the sound vibrate in the air, turning as it were into words of unintelligible nature. And those words echoed in their ears and while one may think that such a sound would assail those hearing it, it was instead rather gentle and even serene and Feyūnhaḥ being as susceptible as she was to the sounds about her, could feel the hairs upon her skin stand straight with the vibrations tingling along the length of her body. The others felt the same but to a much lesser extent. Dhīṇahi’s eyes lit up in delight, spreading a great smile over her face and clapping to the now diminishing sound, as if a performance had just ended.
“As I had expected; an ore potent with the source of the powers! Whoever should wield this could very well be able to unleash cataclysms on the battlefield.” He then looked to Iḷēhaḥ suspiciously. “Who are you, Iḷēhaḥ? You don’t seem as a normal maiden; speak only if you should wish however. I shan’t pry for details that one is reluctant to give, but I should still need to judge one’s character in coming to a decision of whether I should craft the thing that they seek.”
“I shall have to remain silent on that matter,” said Iḷēhaḥ, giving a melancholy smile, yet she continued, “regardless, I have not the power to realize the full potential of the Dvı̄sahlvah. But nor do I seek to, for I have friends and companions who can very well cover for my weaknesses.” And the others smiled at this, glad in heart for her words. “I have learned my lesson in lusting after power and dwelling on my wrath, Vimavrazhhaḥm, so if you should have any worry in crafting a Dvı̄sahlvah for me, lay such thoughts to rest; indeed should you desire it, I can even promise to you with a zṣhṭya that my intentions are well noble and of the nature of Khāryaḥ.”
He held his hand forward and shook his head, “No, you needn’t do as such. I should’ve not doubted you or your companions for I see no malice or animosity about you. Many have come to me seeking Dvı̄sahlvah crafted to due perfection, and long have I harbored resentment toward those whom I bestowed such works upon. They who would succumb to their malice and wreak horrors on those they hated or reviled are ones I very much detest, as should many others. It’s good that such people nowadays don’t harbor the power or resolve to be able to use such things any more. Iḷēhaḥ, if truly you did harbor ill intent, then even were I to craft the Dvı̄sahlvah, unusable it would be for you. Perhaps lesser ones you may attune with, but not this. Evil cannot attune to that which is pure in nature, and this ore that you have brought is very much the latter!”
“My gratitude to you, smith,” said Iḷēhaḥ, bowing.
He then gave a sigh of relief and after blinking his eyes tightly, he said, “Good, now that that’s been dealt with,” he leaned forward, “relate to me as much as you can, for I very much wish to know of the doings of our brothers. You would give this old man at least this much, won’t you?” he said, smiling. Iḷēhaḥ and Feyūnhaḥ gave him sheepish smiles in return (perhaps even Aiṛth behind her mask) wondering to themselves of the many things they should hide about their journey.