Page 46 of The Song of Sunrise
I am grateful for the space, because I have a plan.
A plan that involves somehow channeling my Sun’cher magic into something useful beyond a painfully small flicker of light, training my ass off, and investigating more about these magical creatures I overheard from Markus.
Something seemed off about the way he was interacting with Elder Hightail, not that he was rude to the spindly Elder woman, but that he seemed… desperate. What was this about losing control of the human territories? Surely the Watch was still maintaining enough power to keep our lands safe from raiders from the Southern Continent.
Then a vision of the abandoned WatchTower near the Dead Twins flashes across my mind and my thoughts begin to swirl. Perhaps the threats aren’t as far as I had previously thought.I had always been told to be wary of the Southern Continent’s thirst for power, but between the nomads, abandoned Watch posts, and Underling attacks—perhaps our greatest threat doesn’t lie below to the South, but within our own lands.
“You need a long distance weapon, Kem. Otherwise, you’ll be stardust before you see the whites of your opponents’ eyes,” Leaf says as we walk down the wooded trail to Olwythion, the small town closest to the Academy that cadets may or may not find themselves frequenting quite often. It is a win-win situation for the cadets able to sneak away for a late night brew at Anita’s and for the small community that welcomes the visitors. The late afternoon sun gleams through the thinning trees, shedding their leaves, preparing for the incoming winter.
“Don’t get me wrong, you were impressive with your staff this morning during training. Borderline formidable,” he adds like an afterthought, “but you’ll want something that has a farther reach. Especially for someone so small as you.”
“I might be small, but I’m fast,” I counter and pull my gray cloak snug around me. The wind is crisp and pure, carrying the lightest scent of pine from the heavy woods around us.
“Terribly fast, I’ll admit, but your balance needs work. One push and you’re down.”
My sore ass would agree with that statement, but luckily, that part doesn’t talk. “Wow Leaf, you really know how to compliment a lady.”
“Oh, we are far beyond niceties and fully into the shit-talking part of our friendship now,” he says in a sing-song manner.
Our conversation flows effortlessly until we reach the cobblestone roads of Olwythion. Leaf had insisted on taking me to the town blacksmith after I’d thoroughly failed at each long distance weapon in the Lower Fields. The spears were too heavy, bows too tight to pull back, and while dagger throwing turnedout to be okay, I only had about a fifty percent success rate. The other daggers ended up dangerously close to Leaf’s feet.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to pushing my body to these new physical limits. My legs ache each morning as I wake. Muscles are forming in places where I was once soft. Training is the only place that seems to quell my inner storm of hurt and hatred I keep festering there since leaving Goldenpine.
Olwythion is similar to Goldenpine in many ways, just a more mountainous, more populated, more wealthy version.
Okay, so they are nothing alike, but I can feel an essence of “home” in the sloping shingled roofs and ancient trees surrounding the village. The same comforting feeling I had when I first moved to Goldenpine.
Olwythion is a small community crested between two larger mountains near the Academy. The Roxnold River flows straight through, cleaving the town into two different sides. Various stone bridges cross and arch over the rushing waters, some small and narrow for pedestrians, and others much larger for traveling caravans.
Sunshine glints off the water as the birds chirp in formations high above, traveling south before the impending winter. Drafts of cinnamon, bread, and roasted meat fill the air as we walk across one of the bridges toward the eastern half of town.
“Hi Leaf!” a woman says suggestively, eyes only looking at him as she passes, hips swaying so ridiculously I wonder if she will topple right off the bridge.
“Visha,” is all Leaf says back, voice low and lilting with promise.
I raise one eyebrow.
“What?” he says with a mockingly innocent shoulder shrug, “We are just friends.”
“Mmm hmm.”
Leaf must be blessed by the Sun Goddess herself, because we approach the large stone smithery at that very moment. The building is rather simple in design, with a wooden porch wrapped around large stone pillars. A small iron sign of two crossed axes creaks gently on its hinges.
Leaf guides me inside, and I gasp.
The walls around us are lined from floor to ceiling with a disturbing amount of sharp objects. Weapons upon weapons cover every inch of the walls, making me feel like we are in the belly of some iron beast. The air has a smoky quality to it, like burning metal and leather. A rhythmic clanking echoes from the back of the space.
A large figure stands bent over before the fire. Their muscled arm swings a hammer with incredible force and precision, molding a longsword.
With each strike, a note sings through the air. I didn’t realize I was humming to create my own complementary melody until they stop, the smith setting the sword aside to cool. They stand tall and flick aside a heavy blonde braid.
“Torvi. It’s always a pleasure to witness you at work,” Leaf says with reverence.
“Leaf, my friend.” Torvi swings Leaf into a friendly embrace, bumping shoulders and patting his back with force. Torvi extends a hand to me. “And who might this lovely human be?”
My eyes widen for a moment at the sheer size of the blacksmith. Torvi’s cream shirt is rolled up at the elbows, exposing thick bands of muscle. Dirt smudges their face and leather apron. Their eyes and cheeks crinkle with lines only years of smiling or laughing could craft.
I take their warm and calloused hands, enveloping my own in size.
