Blood of the Sea, Chapter Fourty-Six

Chapter 46: Safeguard

Sulien

Sul woke up before the others on the day they decided to leave for Kildangan. The breeze was moderate, blowing towards the ocean and rolling off the cliff towards the crush of rocks and water far below. He knew this, despite not seeing it.

Instead, he saw the sleeping forms of his friends gathered around; shadowed by the boughs of green separating them from the blues of the sky, and nestled amongst the brown of the earth. Khalil slumped against a tree trunk, Nox curled up with their cloak draped over their shoulders. Astrophel with his arms around Dionne, and Seri, the wanderer from Kildangan, close by Dio’s side. Though Sul didn’t know her well personally, she had brought with her a sort of hope and curiosity which he had seen brighten Dionne and Astrophel in turn, so he was grateful for her presence among them. The rest of his people slept well, paired off or sleeping piled together like ‘urgas on shore.

The thought of his friends leaving for Kildangan without him sat like a pebble in a bowl of porridge. He knew it was there, that it would be happening, he could move around it, but it was still there, and he still bit down on that thought, providing himself more discomfort. Digging his fingers into the soil, he plucks up a rock with a smooth face but rough around the edges, and runs his thumb along those same edges, thinking. What could he offer that would ease his mind? What is there to be done to protect them?

He shifts in his seat and his hilt taps against his thigh. Still unused to the weight of it, Sulien glances down at the metal, even picking it up and turning it over. Like Astrophel, his hilt came in the shape of a sword, though compared to Astrophel’s bastard hand-and-a-half hilt, for versatility as Astrophel would say, Sulien’s was a simple single handed sword hilt. There was no need to be fancy with it. Not when he could summon things from the earth, air, and sea to suit his needs defensively or offensively.

He paused.

That was it. He could make something to protect them.

Clearing the loose dirt away from the space in front of him, he settles on his knees and lays his palms against the ground. Closing his eyes and breathing out slowly, he searches for something usable. The trees light up in his mind’s eye first. Then the stone lying in the ground around their camp. Bark is too destructible. Stone, too heavy. I need something… else. His magic swirls, sniffing around the campsite before dashing away, over the continent. I need something flexible but strong. Not too heavy. Durable. He strains, the magic growing ever more distant from him. Sweat beads upon his brow and he reaches for his hilt. Curling his fingers around it, his shoulders relax and he focuses on his magic more clearly.

It is very far away, yet, there’s something there that is useful. Metal. It looks like the ore making up his peoples’ weapons, but feels different. Something about it is magical. Imbued with… something other. He reaches for it, scooping it gently from the earth, and drawing it closer. This… this is it. His magic trembles, shaking before another power that swoops down upon it, claws outstretched with a mighty screech which he feels but cannot hear. The sound vibrates through his arms even at this distance, and his magic cowers before it, sinking into the ground to hide. The claws scratch and scrabble at the ground, anger driving the claws to chase his magic deeper. I have to get the metal. I have to get out.

In a desperate ploy, his magic surges out of the ground and collides with the other, primal magic, pushing it back with surprise. The magic swipes at him, a blast of heat? Cold? Reaches through, stinging his hands and he pulls back, wounded, before slapping his palms back against the dirt and reaching for the metal. Snatching it away from closing jaws, his magic hurtles it through the air, throwing conjured objects at the primal magic to make it stop. To make it leave him alone.

There’s a tangible pop as his magic crosses a border. Another roar vibrates through the strands of his magic carrying the metal, and he almost drops it into the ocean as he passes overhead. With a sigh of relief, his magic picks up the pace, limping through the air with its precious cargo.

Finally, he opens his eyes as a glob of metal about three people wide and just as tall comes to rest gently on the earth in front of him. Shaking from the effort, he presses his bleeding hands to the metal and begins shaping it. The contours are familiar, the principles muscle memory from his time in the forges. And by the time his friends awaken, there before him are five distinct breastplates made of a swirling black, silver, and white metal. His magic settles like spilled water upon the ground, and he sags back into the tree at whose base he had slept the night. His hands have mostly stopped bleeding, and they rest now in his lap. Blood, sweat, and magic has been poured into the shaping of the metal before him. But from experience, he knows that equals the best of his work.

No normal metal equals this conglomerate. Durability he asked for; durability he had found.

Nox races over, tearing off a piece of cloth to bandage Sulien’s hands as his eyes flutter shut. His other friends come to see, and there’s a heavy pause in the air as they take in the shining metal.

Sulien croaks out of a parched throat, “I hope… you like them.”

“Like them?” Astrophel asks, incredulous. “When did you have the time?!”

“We love them, dear friend,” Khalil says, clasping Sulien’s shoulder with a heavy hand. “You rest up now, yeah? That must have been a lot of work.”

“I can still feel the magic,” Dionne says quietly. Sulien peeks at her from one eye, fatigue weighing him down. Dionne shakes her head at him. “You’ve outdone yourself, Sul.”

Nox pokes him in the forehead and Sul lets his eye close again. “Rest, dummy. We’ll admire your work when you’re awake to appreciate it. For now, some of us have a journey to get started on.”