The Nekromancer - 41. Chapter 41

Amnor Sen wrapped a bandage around Jakun's hand, letting out a soft grunt as he tied it off.

"There. All better," he said, patting the amurrun's back. "This is why we don't start out fighting. Learn to defend before you fight."

Jakun shrugged, a bit of blood already staining the bandage. Amnor Sen was sure he had dealt with worse injuries; it had only been a minor stab, caused by trying to catch a falling blade. It would sting for about a week before slowly fading away without healing magic.

"We'll work on something safer. Why don't we get started on your box?"

"How can I help?" the amurrun asked quietly.

Amnor Sen sucked in a breath thoughtfully.

"With your hand bandaged, you can't do much. If you can still write, why don't you start making any marks you want me to put on the outside, as decoration."

The amurrun nodded, moving to a table as the peals of hammer on steel rang through the forge again. A piece of parchment was produced, Jakun beginning to write in painful motions.

Amnor Sen pulled a piece of wood out of his bag, a small saw following. He stared at the wood, thinking, before starting to shorten the ends. This would be a long project, one he would work hard on, as he would any project.

The elf began cutting boards, dark, thin panels of ebony and lighter inlays of pink ivory. Gluing them together was easy, but Amnor Sen wasn't going to make a basic box. No, this was a memorial box, and it would look like one.

Saving the pink ivory for later, he used a small block of left over ebony to fashion a curving lid leading to a black knob at the top. By the time he had finished that, the forge had fallen quiet.

Looking up from his work, the elf saw Methusda standing nearby, a rapt look on her face.

"I've never been able to work wood like that," the gnome said, her steely hair flashing slightly. "Three hundred years and I can make you a great piece of metal, but put me in front of wood and, save for a hilt or haft, I'm hopeless."

"It's a different practice, one that requires a gentler touch than working steel," Amnor Sen shrugged.

Nearby, Jakun was sweeping again, the amurrun's tail lashing angrily. Amnor Sen sighed, assuming the catfolk was arguing with Anya again. It seemed to happen a lot lately, the spirit pushing Jakun in unknown ways. Amnor Sen didn't like it, but he had no idea how to stop the werewolf. The paladin was an artist, not an exorcist.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the wood, setting the basic box aside while he waited for the glue to dry. Standing from the table, the elf glanced outside as he stretched, his body stiff from a lack of motion.

"It's late. You are remaining here tonight?" he asked, glancing at the gnome.

"Torag's beard, no! I'm heading home," Methusda laughed. "You are welcome to use anything in the shop to stop any burglar. Please try to keep the forge in working order should you decide to use it tonight, and be warned, the neighbours do not appreciate the forge running in the late hours."

"Noted," Amnor Sen nodded slightly. "We will be respectful of your workplace."

"I would expect no less from a follower of Shelyn," Methusda smiled, gathering up a bag of coins.

"Jakun, go with her and keep her safe. And see if you can't pull Jeremy away from his drink. We need him to stand watch tonight."

The amurrun nodded, silently following Methusda from the building. Alone, Amnor Sen picked up a bar of steel the gnome had left for his use, starting the painstaking process of drawing the steel out into wire. The forge heated the shop against the growing chill of the evening, Amnor Sen sweating as he worked.

"Now there's a sight I haven't seen in months…"

A pair of arms encircled the elf, a tongue licking the sweat off Amnor Sen's neck.

"Gods damn it Jeremy, you're drunk again," he sighed, pulling the wire from the fire.

Turning carefully, the paladin set the yellow hot metal over a bucket of water, letting it cool slowly. He faced the cleric, glaring at him.

"You told me to drink," Jeremy protested.

"And you told me you were going to temper yourself."

Amnor Sen began scraping his wire with a brush, knocking off the mild scaling that was showing.

"I never said that!" Jeremy denied.

The man grunted, pulling a sack out of his bag.

"Dwarven rations. Their sausage is good," he said, setting it near the elf. "I promise I won't get wasted tomorrow. But tonight is a celebration. We're out of Geb at last."

Amnor Sen let out a quiet grunt, setting the brush aside. He picked up the sack, pulling out a rather cold link of meat. Biting into it, the elf grimaced.

"What did they use to make this, goblin toes?"

"I don't know. But they're filling. And different from the meat we had in Geb."

Amnor Sen shuddered at the memory.

"I suppose that's true."

"I brought you some wine."

Sighing, the paladin accepted the skin, taking a mouthful of the bitter liquid to wash the meat down.

"Thank you," he said.

"I know you. You haven't eaten since last night, too caught up in your work. Even when it isn't your forge."

Jeremy took the cooled wire and started wrapping it around a steel bar, coiling it into small rings. He slid the finished product off, handing it to Amnor Sen before removing his chain shirt.

"I got some new gambeson," he mentioned. "Contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

Amnor Sen pulled a wooden bowl over, sitting over it as he began clipping the steel coil into usable rings. Riveting them took longer, but eventually, he was able to start repairing the torn mail they had carried since Anuli.