Book of Heroes: George of Sedona I - 8. Mithral

Mithral

George shivered. Frost covered the ground. The hardwood trees had begun to turn colors. George stood by the fire, dressing. “You have to show me that spell that keeps you warm,” he said.

“I offered to cast it for you,” Arthur said.

“No, I want to know—”

“George, it’s too dangerous,” Arthur said. “It could kill you as quickly as warm you.”

George sighed. “You must think I’m awfully stupid.”

“Because I won’t teach you the spell, or because you can’t see magic after a year and a half’s trying?”

“Yes. Yes, both, I mean.”

“George, you can see boy magic. That’s something very few boys can do. Most apprentice mages work and study for a decade or more before they can do even that. It takes decades more before they can see the great magic. So, no. I don’t think you’re stupid. You have learned faster than anyone could have expected. And no, I won’t teach you the spell because I think you’re stupid, only because you must be able to see the great magic, first.

“Now, stop pouting.” Arthur hugged the now-clothed boy.

“I don’t know,” George said slowly. Then he grinned. “Pouting is usually good for a hug.”

*****

Berkshire nestled between hills to the north and a river to the south. The river flowed toward the west before turning south and then east, and making its way to the sea. Like many elven towns, Berkshire was built of white stone quarried in the Gray Mountains. The buildings on the outer sides of the town were part of the walls that surrounded the town. Two gates broke the walls. The eastern gate opened to the road from the mountains. The other, in the west wall, opened to a road that led through elven lands and into Arcadia. The river was too shallow to be navigable by ships or boats of any size; however, it formed a lake on the northeast side of the city. Fishing boats and a few barges plied the lake. Others were tied to docks.

Arthur and George rode toward the eastern gate. A single tween was on guard. He displayed on his chest a circle sable, in saltire an ax and hammer argent. As the boys approached the gate, they dismounted, walking the horses the last few tens of yards.

“Welcome to Berkshire,” the boy said. “Will you stay, or will you pass?”

“Thank you kindly for your welcome,” Arthur said. “I am Arthur, oath-sworn to King Oberon. This is my companion, George. We are seeking a smith, and will likely stay several days or longer, if we may, and if we find an inn.”

“This is the land of the Keewaten, miners and workers of metal, and even this small town boasts several smiths. My father is one, and I would commend you to him if you would not think that forward of me. The town has no inn, but my mother lets rooms above the smithy. Oh,” seeing an expression of concern flit over Arthur’s face, “do not worry. The smithy shuts down no later than vespers and does not re-start until well after breakfast. Tell mother that Brightstar sends you.” At George’s puzzled look, the boy added, “Brightstar is my mother’s name for me.”

*****

“Yes, mistress, we would like to stay for several days…we’ve traveled long through the mountains, and both we and the horses need rest. We may wish to trade or purchase metal, as well, but right now, caring for the horses, followed by a bath and food, are uppermost on our minds.”

The mistress of the house had greeted them when they arrived, and showed them the stables and their room. “This stall is used by my younger son and his companion when they are here…that horse is Brightstar’s…this stall should suit well. Oats are in the bin, there…the water bucket is there…” Leading them up a stairway at the far end of the stable, she directed them to a room. Below, they could hear the hiss of the bellows and the rhythmic tapping of a hammer.

“Your room is here. My sons’ rooms are there and there. Let me know if they make noise or disturb you. The bath is at the end of the hall. It’s hot, now. The smith, my husband, bathes after he shuts down the forge…listen for the Vesper bell, if you can hear it over the din…and supper is immediately after that. The soup is a fish stew. The Plyat had a good catch today. Do you eat fish?” the woman asked, looking to Arthur.

“Yes, Mistress,” Arthur replied, “and thank you for asking.”

The woman then left them to their devices. “A bath?” George asked. He’d become a fan of bathing, especially since Arthur insisted on using boy magic to clean George, and was most enthusiastic about restoring it afterwards.

The supper table was set for nine, although it could have accommodated twice that number. Only seven came to table: the smith and his two apprentices, the mistress of the house, the tween—Brightstar—who had been on the gate, and Arthur and George.

Fresh bread accompanied the fish and vegetable stew. Their hosts spoke little beyond “Please pass the bread.” Arthur and George took their cue from them.

The meal passed in silence until the door from the courtyard burst open to admit two elven boys who dashed to the head of the table. The smaller one, with brown hair, kissed the woman and said, “Sorry we’re late.”

The other boy, with auburn hair, added, “We got a ride on Per Andelo’s boat…”

The first boy completed the sentence, “…it was fun and fast but the wind died…”

The second boy continued, “…and we had to row back to shore…”

“…so we’re very hungry…”

“…and mother is holding supper until father finishes at the shop…”

“…so we came here. Oh, who are you?”

Arthur and George had stopped eating, and were sitting with mouths agape at this display of energy and synchronized talking. Apparently, everyone else was accustomed to it, for none of the others seemed to pay any attention.

“Sit down, boys,” the woman said. “Brightstar, please pass Darryn the tureen. Master Arthur, would you be kind enough to hand Greyeyes the bread basket? He’s the one on your left.”

After dinner, Arthur and George went to the stable to check on their horses before returning to their room. There they were accosted by the two boys, Darryn and Greyeyes.

“Are those your horses?” Greyeyes asked.

“Of course they are,” Darryn said, “Whose else?”

“But they’re elven horses, and you aren’t elves…”

“…but you could be, you’re tall and thin enough,” Darryn said, looking at Arthur.

“…and you could be, too, you’re cute enough,” Greyeyes said, looking at George.

“Hey, little brothers, stop hitting on them…I saw them first,” Brightstar said as he entered the stable. He laughed.

“Hey, big brother,” Darryn said. The boy tackled the tween. Brightstar played along, and allowed Darryn to pull him to the floor. Darryn sat on Brightstar’s chest, pinning the tween’s arms under his legs. “Pax?” Darryn asked.

“I don’t know,” Brightstar said. “What will you give me?”

When Darryn didn’t immediately respond, the tween flipped over and pinned the boy beneath him. “Pax?” he offered Darryn.

“I don’t know,” Darryn said, “What will you give me?”

“Boy magic?” Brightstar offered.

Darryn’s kiss was his answer.

Greyeyes, Arthur, and George had stood watching this scene. When Darryn kissed Brightstar, Greyeyes turned to Arthur and George, “Well, that takes them out of the way. Will you share with me? Both of you, I mean? And what’s your name?”

“My name is George,” the boy said, “and I’d like to share with you, if Arthur says it’s okay.”

The next morning, Arthur and George went to the stable, as was their custom, to tend their horses. Greyeyes was there on the same errand. Greyeyes helped George fill a bucket with oats, and asked, “Last night…why did you ask Arthur if you could share?”

“Because I’m his squire,” George answered, unthinking.

Greyeyes looked at Arthur. “His squire?” He turned to Arthur. “Then you’re a knight? But you’re not wearing spurs…Oh! You are…but they’re elven! You’re an elven knight? But how can that be?”

“This,” Arthur said, “is a little unnerving. Greyeyes, can you really see my spurs?”

“Yes…most of the time, now. I couldn’t, before…before I knew you were a knight. They’re hidden by magic, aren’t they? I’ll bet Darryn could see them, too…he’s studied magic, you know.”

“I don’t suppose you could not tell Darryn about this,” Arthur said.

“Even if I didn’t, he’d know,” Greyeyes said. “You know, we’re not really brothers…we have different parents…but we were born at the same instant, and we share a soul. We’re also bound by blood…and did that scandalize the senior at the temple when he found out that two children not yet boys had sworn that oath to each other…but even if I didn’t tell Darryn, I’ll bet that he’d see your spurs the next time he saw you…”

Greyeyes was right. When Darryn returned from the forge where he’d been helping the smith, his eyes immediately went to Arthur’s boots. “You’re wearing elven spurs. You weren’t yesterday. Were you? Yes, you were, but we just didn’t see them…”

“Told you so,” Greyeyes said.

“Darryn, Greyeyes, I won’t ask you to swear an oath, but I will ask you to promise that you won’t tell anyone that I’m a knight. It is a secret for good reason. The king knows the secret and knows that it is a secret. And that’s all I can say, actually.”

Greyeyes’ face and voice were very serious when he asked, “In the Light, are you a true knight, and is what you say the truth?”

“In the Light, it is,” Arthur answered.

“Then we shall keep your secret,” Greyeyes said, “Won’t we, Darryn.”

“Yes,” Darryn answered. “Now, will you two share with Greyeyes and me? And don’t worry about Brightstar…he has duty on the gate!”

*****

Greyeyes’ father was very pleased to trade a portion of the meteor for an ingot of mithral. “I truly believe I got the better of the deal,” the Master Smith said. “Mithral isn’t nearly as valuable around here as is iron from a skystone.”

“And I truly believe we got the better of the deal,” Arthur replied. “There’s enough mithral here to make what we want, and have some left over…and it’s going to be a lot easier to carry it than it was to carry the iron.”

That night, after George and Darryn and Greyeyes fell asleep, Arthur closed his eyes and looked at the magic field. His examination was passive; he sent out no pings or pulses. As the sphere of his perception grew, he saw first the people of Berkshire, most of them asleep, as tiny, golden sparks. Berkshire was, indeed, a town of Good people. In the tower above the gate was the particular glow he knew as Brightstar. To the north, the solid bulk of the Gray Mountains loomed as bright points where the magic focused. The lake was a pool of brightness where magic gathered. On the lake, a boat—fishermen drifting on a windless night—waited for the morning and the breeze that would bring them home. There! At the edge of his perception, at the limits of his power, a dark red blob, nearly purple, moved slowly, warping the lines of magic as it did so. Somewhere well north of the lake. Likely on the road through the mountains, he thought. Something Dark is following us.

The rising sun cast long shadows before them as Arthur and George rode from Berkshire through the western gate.

“Why didn’t we make the sword in Berkshire,” George asked. “I like Darryn and Greyeyes and Brightstar, and they liked us. The smith seemed to welcome us…”

“Two reasons,” Arthur answered. “First, I’m sure someone’s following us—someone Evil—and I don’t want to lead them to Berkshire and to the smith’s family. That’s why we had to leave so quickly. On the road like this, I can break the trail. Tied down in one place, I can’t do that. Second, the smith might not take too kindly to a human knowing how to alloy mithral and iron…it’s supposed to be a closely guarded secret of the elves.

“I’m sorry we had to leave, George. I’ve been living like this for a long time. Once in a while, I can stay somewhere for several months, maybe a year, but usually I’m gone after a week or less. Still want to be my squire?”