Six Pillar's Oath

Chapter 2 - Tern

Summer was fading and deep reds were creeping into the trees, but the day was still hot and sweat driped from the end of Tern’s long thin nose. He had been given the task of dismantling the old furnace and stacking the bricks in the yard. He had put it off all summer, running off with Gorrel playing with swords in the woods and showing off for the girls by the river. He was sixteen now and “summers seemed long and full of promise” his mother had said when his father had got frustrated by Tern’s slacking.

“His head is full of girls and fun now, but when he catches one’s eye he’ll settle. Just like you did Calen.” She had attempted to soothe her husband with a peck on the cheek. Tern’s whole face had gone as red as his hair when she spoke though. Tern had seen the girls nearby as he and Gorrel had swam in the river, and fished, and fought, but none had caught his eye. He believed Fern Gimble had been showing him a little interest, but Tern had been preoccupied. Gorrel was leaving in the autumn to train with the Lord’s guard. Gorrel had always dreamed of becoming a Blessed Knight and his father had managed to secure him a place at Lord Nerving’s keep to train. He was a little old for it, but he was passionate and his enthusiasm had impressed a Knight captain who had come through in the spring. Since the news had come Tern had promised to train with him every day until he was ready to leave, and Tern was determined to keep that promise. The day Gorrel had left Tern had walked with him as far as the Departing Bridge, he’d saved face until he turned his back on Gorrel and while he didn’t sob, tears had still welled in his eyes as he’d walked home, mingling with the rain as they fell from his cheeks.

It had been a couple of weeks now and keeping occupied had been difficult, so the furnace had seemed a good option. While his body was kept busy his mind still wandered. The furnace was the same one used by his grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather and each Merryworth smith who was born, worked and died in this backside of nowhere village. It was the one he had sat by on cold winters nights, keeping warm while his grandfather told him old tales. He had begun every story the same.

“The stones used to build this place were dug from the ground not by men, but by trolls. The ones who taught us to build this fire and keep it hot were dwarves, the elves showed us how to use it to temper the steel, make it hard. Don’t you forget it little man. Before magic became the province of Lords it made all kinds of folk equal. S’long and you keep this fire burning, you’ll keep a little bit of magic alive in Kwepper, and in everything you make. Kweppers no stranger to magic, why once a long time ago…”

When Tern’s grandfather had died his father had let the fire die too, said the furnace was old and impractical where it was. His father had not even looked at the furnace since. Tern’s mother had said it would take some time, that it was too painful for him. Even if his father was right about it’s practicalities, Tern felt like destroying the furnace was akin to watching the old man close eyes full of magic and gasp his last breath all over again.

Tern’s mind was lost in memories as he continued his task but he was pulled back to reality as the next stone sent a burning, searing pain into his palm. Tern dropped the stone with a clatter, clutching his wrist he rushed to the pail of water out the door. Tern plunged his right hand in and steam hissed, erupting everywhere. It was as hot as iron from the fire.

“Tern, Tern are you alright?” Tern looked up to see Fern rushing over, he didn’t even realise she had been passing by.

He pulled his hand out of the water and opened up his palm.

“My gawds.” Fern gasped. “you branded yourself? Tern? What even is that mark.” She asked.

“I… I don’t know. The stone was still hot. It’s nothing not a brand, just a, mark.” Tern gritted his teeth through searing pain.

“Well you just missed the healer. She left yesterday. Best see if your ma has some layel weed in.” Fern somehow lifted Tern’s much larger, muscular form off the ground and helped him to the house.

“You’re far to prone to be a blacksmith Tern.” Fern jested. “Don’t worry though, I’ll keep looking after you.”