Blood of the Sea, Chapter Five

Chapter 5: Smith

Sulien

The whoosh of the bellows forms a steady backdrop to Sulien’s hammering; the metal on metal sounding off with a steady, recurrent tink, tink, tink, which nearly deafens him to the push and pull of the ocean. Nearby, Khalil flips a coin back and forth across his knuckles; the coin acting like a small sun as it bounces the light of the forge all across the room as it wheels back and forth over bone. Sulien remains silent, content with his work; he also recognizes the look on Khalil’s face. He’ll speak when he wants to.

He didn’t have to wait long. Khalil huffs out a breath, the air blowing against a few strands of his choppy short hair which have started matting down on his face from the heat. Sulien’s own red hair is plastered against his face and the back of his neck.

“Ast should have Gytheio’s support. Dio, Thiene. You,” Khalil gestures to Sulien who catches the movement in the corner of his eye, his own arm raised to hammer down on the metal again with another sharp tink, “Valskog. Even I should have Igdir…” Khalil walks closer, placing his hand over the top of Sulien’s where it holds the hammer. “Sul. Are you listening to me?”

Sulien glances up at Khalil from under his sweat laden brows, pausing in his work, “You haven’t gotten to your point yet.” Sul drops the hammer, another tink ringing out. Khalil arches an eyebrow. Sulien bites his lip to stop from laughing at his friend and sets the hammer down, leaving the roughly shaped pauldron to rest on the anvil. “If I must complete your line of thought for you, you’re worried about Montoro.”

Khalil throws his hands up, “Vance is a strong contestant. He is also going to be in this season’s seiche.”

“Nox has a shot, just like the rest of us.” Sulien wipes his oil stained hands on a rag tied to his waist. The bellows sigh, calling him over to settle the score in their fight with the hot embers spitting in the hearth.

“I know they do. I just wish I could do more…”

Sulien throws a burned glove at Khalil, catching his friend in the chest, though Khalil catches the ruined glove all the same. “You cannot tell Eulla to change her mind if she has already chosen Vance to be one of the Five. No more than you can be absolutely sure that you are Igdir’s choice, or that I am Valskog’s. Even Ast, with all his lineage, isn’t guaranteed to be one of the Five.”

Khalil’s jaw works as he considers Sulien’s words.

Sulien crosses the space between them, gripping both of Khalil’s shoulders in his hands. Khalil’s eyes have a slightly tormented look to them, and Sul knows he can’t reassure Khalil that everything will be as they want it to be. It’s never that easy. So he changes the subject. “When would you go to Falun?”

“Visit Eulla’s Voice, you mean?” Khalil shrugs, his muscles rolling under Sulien’s palms before he steps away, tossing a glance toward the ever present ocean. “After the shoal convenes. To go now would be too…”

“Presumptuous?”

“Exactly.” Khalil’s brow relaxes, relief evident in his face.

Sul smiles, squeezing his friend’s shoulders before moving past him and out of the forge. “Don’t let the current get the better of you. Today’s worries will seem shallow next to tomorrow’s successes.”

“Alright, stop philosophizing at me.” Khalil chases after Sulien, giving him a light knock to the back of his head. “I’ll race you to shore. I should be gliding right now anyway.”

“And I should be working on the tribe’s armor, but you dropped by,” Sulien teases, jogging down the path as Khalil falls in step with him.

“You’re the one who chose to be a smith.”

“Metal work runs in the family. It’s what happens when you conjure.”

“Then let’s hope some of that rubs off on you,” Khalil teases back.

Sulien grins, “Just you wait till Eulla reveals your magic.”

Khalil snorts, “Believe me, I can’t wait for the riddles. She is deep and true, but She is hardly ever immediately clear.”

Sulien laughs, lagging behind as Khalil continues down the path, the wind whipping at his hair as the sweat dries. The smell of brine slowly replaces the ashy taste from the forge, and Sulien raises a hand in farewell as Khalil makes the leap from land to the boards of the glider. Khalil returns the salute, wrapping a line of rope around his other hand and unfurling the single sail, catching the wind and riding off on the current.

Sulien takes another deep breath of the salty air, letting it completely fill his lungs, buoying him even as he turns back to the forge. As his hands come to rest on the pauldron again, he smiles. Conjuring images in his mind of the future of his tribe, he imagines it will be easier to provide for and protect those important to him with a little magic. Until then, he picks up his hammer again and pumps the bellows, blood and sweat alone will have to suffice.