Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God (35 page)

The intensity of his eyes does not match the businesslike smile on his bearded lips.  “I'm Roderick. What can I be doing for you this fine afternoon.”

“I'm Brand. I need some mundane chainmail repaired.” I push my cloak back from my shoulder, and point to the rent sleeve over my biceps.

Roderick fingers the metal, and his narrowed eyes focus on my face. Even though nothing shows on his face other than a slight wrinkling of his brow, I am sure the thoughts are racing through his mind.

“Can you take this off?”

I shrug and store my cloak and weapons in my ring, seeing Roderick nod slightly, as he watches me. Taking off my hauberk, I pass it to him.

A slight smile turns up the corners of Roderick's lips, as he bounces the mail in his hand. “How did you ever get enough Dvergar steel to have this made?”

“Dvergar steel? What's that?”

Roderick's eyes widen. “Don't you  know what you have here?”

“It was made on my home world, from an alloy of high carbon steel, and very hard and heavy metals. I was not born in the Battleground. There are no Dvergar on my home world.”

Roderick's slight smile turns into a frown. “If you know what metals are in this alloy, I can duplicate it for you. Without making some of this metal, I don't think this mail will ever be repaired to its original quality. Well, the quality of workmanship is not all that high, but the metal is superb. If it is not Dvergar steel, it is close enough as to be virtually identical.”

Surprise turns my face into a blank mask, and it takes me a moment to process everything. I have heard of Dvergar Steel, it was mentioned by Thorrin a few times. I have a vague memory of seeing it mentioned in a few books in the Battleground of the Damned, but I cannot remember the context. Could it be made from the same combination of metals as my mail and swords?

“I don't know what the metals are called in the Slave Tongue. In my native language, they are called tantalum and tungsten. I think are found in very small quantities in some ores that contain iron, but I don't know how to identify them.”

Roderick scratches his bearded cheek. “There are a lot of ores you can extract iron from. I may have to experiment with the slag and see what I can refine out of it. If nothing else, you have given me a clue, which I lacked before. About your mail, I'm sorry, but I cannot repair it to be as strong as it was.”

Roderick stares at the mail in his hands, then at the mail still on my legs, before turning his eyes to my burn scarred cheek. “There's a lot of metal here. There might be a better way to do this, but it will take time.”

“How much time?”

Roderick frowns slightly. “Well, that depends on you. It could be half a year, or it could never happen.”

My eyes narrow in irritation, and the ki in my begins to naturally circulate with my aggravation.

Roderick grins slightly. “Quite a temper  you  have, to go with all that ki. You also have a lot of untrained mana.”

“Get to the point.”

“Can I see your burn scars?”

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I take off my leather gambeson.

Roderick stares at my chest and stomach for several moments. “I can see the fear of fire in your eyes. You know fire, and know it better than most ever will. You know its strength, and you understand its dangers. A Smith who does not respect fire is doomed. If you overcome the fear and keep the respect, you have potential. Have you ever considered following the Path of the Maker?”

I am gobsmacked by his words. It takes me several moments this time to wrap my brain around the idea and formulate an answer.

“How much will that cost me?”

Roderick grins. “Nothing. It's another experiment. Do you know know the secret to Patterning more powerful items?”

“More Power.”

Roderick laughs, while holding his belly and slapping his knees. “Every idiot knows it takes more Power. The secret is the pattern of the Maker. The stronger the Maker's pattern, the stronger the items base pattern will be.”

“I still don't get it.”

Roderick snorts with a superior look on his face. “Smiths are Makers. Your pattern being stronger means what you Make is stronger. Refining more Power is the fastest way to strengthen your pattern, but it has some pretty severe limits. Once you reach those limits, stories and legends are the best way to make your pattern grow.

“Have you ever wondered why Named and Legendary items have so much Power? Everything in the universe is made of patterns. Just as patterns can be damaged and destroyed, they can grow. The knowledge and belief of others have in you, even if they just think of you as a story, will strengthen your pattern. It is not much for a single person, but when it becomes millions or hundreds of millions, they universe itself will help your pattern to grow. Every deed, for good or ill, that becomes known will strengthen your place in the Great Pattern. The more who know of you, the stronger your pattern becomes.

“I don't adventure, anymore. I did in my youth, but now I'm settled in my Smithy. I've reached the limits of refining Power, and the weapons and armor I create do not spread my fame fast enough.

“You are different. You're already steeped in blood, and I'm sure your infamy will become beyond legend. If I train you and you make it known that I am your teacher, I will become a part of your story. That may spread my fame faster than anything. I'll grow stronger, simply from being your teacher.

“You're masterwork will be to melt and reforge that chain into a new suit of armor, which you will Pattern.”

I stare at Roderick. “What makes you so certain about this?”

“I'm a Smith. The first thing you have to learn to be a Smith is to see patterns. In your body and mind, I can see an enormous potential as a Maker. What do you say?”

It feels as though something is still playing with my fate, but I do not think this is the Nameless' work. I cannot keep the smirk off my face. “Sure.”

Clang! clink. Clang! clink. Clang! clink. Clang! clink.

Sigurd and Xenia have returned to Jinmu's base. Only Perzey is still with me. When she is not practicing her combat arts in a quiet corner of the Smithy, she squats near my forge. With her arms resting on her knees and her chin resting on her arms, she sit watching me for hours. Her hungry eyes follow the movement of hammer, and feral smile twists her lips.

With each swing of the hammer, I feel the mana surging through my body, down my arm, and into the hammer's head. A faint blood red aura surrounds the hammer, and multicolored sparks fly from each impact on the orange glowing steel.

Ironically, the glowing metal and the heat of the forge chill me. Being so close to them, the scars on my bare chest burn with the remembered pain, while a cold hard lump sits in the pit of my stomach.

“Good, you have achieved basic control over your mana. Now, you can learn to see. The secret to seeing patterns is in how your perceive the world. First, you have to change the way you think about your surroundings, then you have to use mana to filter what your eyes see.” Roderick is standing on the opposite side of the anvil from me.

“Normally, no one ever looks past the surface of the universe. Our eyes are part of our bodies. They are both of the physical world and bound by the laws of the physical world. Patterns are part of the laws that make up the very nature of the universe, so the eyes can normally not see them. You need to learn to look at the structure of the universe, the universe itself, not the veil that we see around us.

“This not something that can be taught. Each person has to find their own way to twist their mind and look beneath the surface. That sight is the core of Making. Smithing is a Making art, and every person has their own way of Making. It comes from your soul. If you cannot find the way within yourself, all your potential as a Smith will be wasted.”

I turn a flat stare on Roderick. “Why do I have the feeling that is much easier said than done?”

Roderick's chuckle, matches his ironic grin. “If it was easy, the universe would be filled with Makers. There's a couple tons of scrap metal here. Keep pounding out the impurities, until you see the secrets of steel or give up. When you can see the secrets of steel, I can begin your real training.”

Roderick raises his hand and a spell pattern hovers over it. “Remember this spell. When you have found your insight, use it on yourself, on your own eyes.”

The members of Divine Wind were running around in a panic. A stone longboat could be seen flying straight toward their fort from the southwest. The only race that knew the secret of making flying stone ships was the DokkAlfar.

Carlson and two of the other leaders within Divine Wind were surrounded by clamoring Divine Wind members, when Jinmu exited the keep. Divine Wind was currently an alliance of five small guilds, that had banded together after The Nameless trapped more that a million Taereun players in the bodies of their characters.

Originally, they had just been an informal coalition of the guilds, but under Jinmu's influence, they had formed a permanent alliance, , with the five guild leaders acting as council. Since then, they had trained in tactics and strategy under Jinmu and begun to operate as a mercenary unit. The guild leaders, fearful of his charisma and skills, kept Jinmu in the role of an adviser, but in the field, their lack of ability forced them to stand aside, while Jinmu commanded the mercenary force in their few battles to date.

As Jinmu observed the situation, Delilah exited the keep behind him.
*What is that?”

*The DokkAlfar.*

Delilah shivered hearing Jinmu's words in their personal party chat.

Seeing Jinmu standing outside the keep, a number of Divine Wind members, who were part of the active mercenary force, rapidly approached him.

“Jinmu, those are DokkAlfar! What should we do?”

Jinmu glanced around the courtyard. Carlson was one of three guild leaders present, but none of them were giving any effective orders.

“Take bows and get to the top of the keep. If that boat does not come down, do not expose yourselves to overhead fire, and wait for orders. If it does come down, take positions at the keep parapets and wait for orders.”

“Yes, sir!”

Seeing how Jinmu calmed the mercenary force members with a few calm commands, Carlson looked at him with a mixture of jealousy and admiration. The other two guild leaders had expression somewhere between envy and resentment, but they did not know what to do. The DokkAlfar were a boogeymen, from their days in Taereun the game, and struck an unnatural fear into them. They could not believe that Jinmu's calm was anything but an act.

Carlson quickly approached Jinmu. “You're Divine Wind's best tactician. What should we do?”

“Take your people under cover for now. That airship allows the DokkAlfar to be able to assault us with virtual impunity, if we are in the open. I will wait out here and see what they do.”

Carlson looked over his shoulder at the approaching stone longboat. “Okay. Just make sure you let us know when to attack.”

Jinmu frowned slightly. “There may not be a battle. Wait and see what happens.”

Carlson led his people into one of the towers along the wall. The other two guild leaders, seeing his actions, took their people into the other tower and the small gate barbican.

*Delilah, you  go inside the main keep too. You do not have the combat experience to be safe out here, if the DokkAlfar bombard us.*

Alone in the courtyard, Jinmu waited for the longboat to arrive.

Less than ten minutes later, the longboat circled over the keep twice, before looping down to the defensive wall. Two DokkAlfar soldiers jumped onto the top of the wall and secured the floating ship to the battlements with mooring lines.

A DokkAlfar in leather robes and a hooded leather cloak stepped off the side of the longboat and floated down to the wall. Alone, the robed DokkAlfar strode down from the wall and over to Jinmu.

“Greetings, Jinmu.” Kra'cha'len's voice was had the same odd accent, as the last time Jinmu heard it.

Jinmu felt a chill in his bowels. The DokkAlfar were a complication that he did not wish to deal with.

“Good afternoon, Kra'cha'len. I assume that you would not be coming here without a pressing reason.”

Kra'cha'len's frown was visible beneath the shadow of his hood. “I have information regarding your daughter. It is not good.”

Jinmu felt as though a frozen spear had pierced his heart.
How does this DokkAlfar know about Mei?

“My daughter?”

“There is no point in feigning ignorance. The Great God has taken an interest in you, and there is nothing that can be hidden from his eyes. Your daughter is one of the nameless traitor's victims, those who call themselves the Damned. She goes by the name Selestra.”

“Come with me.” Jinmu entered the keep, leading the DokkAlfar to an empty storage room near the door he used.

“You are a Priest-Wizard. Can you seal this room against sound?”

Kra'cha'len's finger rapidly traced a spell pattern in the air and activated it with a flick of his wrist. The silvery light expanded covering the walls, ceiling, floor, and door before disappearing.

“It is done.”

“Tell me about my daughter.”

Kra'cha'len's frown returns. “In the years since their defeat at Haven, the surviving Damned have spread out in a number of directions. Your daughter was sold by her friends in Free Port, so that they could buy their safety from one of the Houses. She has been placed in a brothel, where she is used by dozen's of men a week. A half-breed between LjosAlfar and SvartAlfar is an exotic toy that draws a number of the cities most twisted perverts to the brothel.”

Jinmu's face was pale, and his hands were shaking, with a mix of fear and rage. “I do not believe your words.”

Kra'cha'len sighed dramatically. “If you do not believe my words, I can arrange to show you images, but it will take me forty of fifty days to arrange it. Getting one of an attuned pair of scrying devices to your from here to Free Port will take time.”

Jinmu fixed a cold stare on Kra'cha'len's hooded face. “What is your purpose in telling me these things?”

“If you swear yourself to Yggr, I can arrange for you to be taken to Free Port, instead of just sending a scrying device.”

“I have no trust in your words. Do not return to bother me with more false statements.”

Kra'cha'len's smile was cold as he turned and left the storeroom.