23. The Smith And The Ritualist

“You’re back!” Kat exclaimed when Elvis returned to the smithy the following morning. She threw her arms around him and planted a long, deep kiss on his lips. The embrace only ended when her father loudly cleared his throat from within the workshop. “I thought you’d be away for longer.”

“Me too,” Elvis replied, enjoying the feeling of her bosom pressed against his chest. He struggled to fathom how memories of their exchanges and time in the apartment upstairs didn’t melt El-Prime’s frigid heart. Kat was a sweet, beautiful woman and far better than anyone they’d been within almost a decade. “Penelope found multiple samples. They have the necessary ingredients for repairing the cracked shard. It was a decent delve, and we didn’t need to spend any more time in the undercity.” He grinned. “I also wanted to get back to you as soon as possible. So, we didn’t let things drag out.”

“Aren't you sweet?” Kat smiled. She pulled away and gave him a once over, poking his chest and abdomen and running her hands over his arms. “Good. Not missing anything. Lukas gets his shard. What about you? Is there anything in this for you besides money? Or is he and Penelope just letting you get hurt and rely on the shard to fix everything up?”

Elvis laughed. “Nothing of the sort. Lukey and I take turns. If the shard suits him well, he gets it. If not, it will be mine, and the next one goes to whoever is lagging. His ability isn’t combat-oriented at all, and I’d rather he get this one. I’m likely to get hurt a lot less if the little one can take care of himself.”

“Why am I not convinced?” Kat frowned, placing her hands on her hips.

“Trust me, Kitty,” Elvis said, arm snaking around her waist. He pecked her cheek. “Besides, Lukas really impressed Penelope with his soul ability. She’s increasing his pay and giving him extra magic lessons. He promised to invest it all in a shard for me. We’ve seen a few decent ones that his bonus might just be enough for.”

“Good. The last thing I want is for you to get carried away with your brother and this sorcerer and get hurt so bad the shard can’t fix it. I—” Kat caught herself. She broke eye contact and started toward the smithy. “Da and I agree that you have a talent for metalwork. The billets were of high quality, and we’ve made amazing progress with the order. It would be a shame to lose someone like you.”

“Right.” Elvis grinned. “For the business. I know you weren’t expecting me back today, but I can help. Maybe you can teach me how to draw out a billet. Perhaps even help me make a simple blade and identify the right time for quenching?”

“I thought you came down to distract me from work and drag me upstairs,” Kat said, eyes narrowing.

“Before or after, of course! If your father can spare you right now—”

“I can’t!” The old blacksmith yelled from within the smithy. It was always loud around the forge, but the man seemed to hear everything the pair said to each other. However, he rarely interfered unless they were getting too carried away in the open.

“Stop eavesdropping, Da!” Kat yelled. She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I swear, just because I agreed to work with him, he thinks he can tell me what to do. I’m a grown woman with a dedicated client base. I could go work elsewhere or even start my own shop if I wanted.”

The blacksmith said nothing. The rhythmic sound of the hammer on the anvil resumed.

“But you won’t because you love your dad and don’t want him to get lonely.”

“And our client base is somewhat entangled.” Kat glared at him, hands on her hips. “So what are we doing?”

“Maybe upstairs for a bit and then get to work?”

Kat nodded. “I supposed that’s acceptable.”

It was a productive afternoon. When the pair returned to the workshop an hour later, Kat guided him through the heating, drawing, and shaping of billets.

The pair worked side by side, wearing heavy gloves, aprons, and goggles with tinted lenses. Their alchemical treatments provided ample protection from the heat and glow radiating from the furnace. It surprised Elvis that El-Prime had no interest in alchemy. It seemed to play a significant role in Iskander’s artisanal field, working its way into all fields, including blacksmithing. He believed it would prove vital once they got around to their own ‘start-up.’

But if I think so, some part of El-Prime agrees. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Unlike her father, Kat utilized several modern tips and tricks. She used a magnetized piece of metal to check if the billet was hot enough. “Skill smiths can usually tell by color,” she explained. “I can, too, but that’s not always accurate or reliable. Materials often contain impurities. When you’re using scrap metal, you can’t always be sure of what else is in there. Eyes and ears might fail to discern the truth, but the lodestone never lies.”

Working in the smithy had done wonders for Elvis and, therefore, El-Prime’s body. Their wiry form was now well-toned. Arms, shoulders, and chest now also had hints of definition. Training with the Shadow Seekers and working as a courier helped improve their stamina, but they still had a long way to go. Fortunately, both clone empowerments came with improved endurance. As a result, Elvis didn’t tire quickly, whether in bed, training with weapons, or hammering away at a glowing chunk of metal.

Several hours passed as Kat and Elvis worked side by side, working on individual billets. She finished significantly faster than him and moved on to other projects, but he kept her lessons in mind. He widened and lengthened the chunk of steel before smacking it on the anvil to get the desired shape. Initially, he took it too far and drew the gruff old man’s attention. He wandered over, grumbling, and guided Elvis through fixing the mistake.

“You’re using brute force,” the man said. “That might come in handy with billets and drawing out the metal, but shaping is an art demanding skill and a light touch.” He used the tong with both hands, holding the length of metal just past the narrowed tang. “You don’t always have to use the hammer. Sometimes, the anvil is just as good.” he then carefully tapped the side on the anvil’s pointed end, giving the metal a slight curve. Then he returned it to the forge. “There is no rush when you’re learning. Advance a bit. Back into the heat. Advance a bit more, back into the fire.”

It was the first time the blacksmith had shown such patience and spoken gently to Elvis, catching him off guard. “Thank you, sir,” he managed to say after finding the right words.

The process took Elvis more than twice the time it had taken Kat. It still wasn’t perfect, but still decent. Lukas heated the blade up once more and used the magnet to know when it was enough just enough. He then quenched the dagger and held his breath. Much to Elvis’s relief, he heard no cracks. 

“Good job,” Kat said. “We can’t be sure without a good grind, but I see no delaminations or major faults.”

“But, it's warped,” Elvis complained.

“That happens to Da sometimes, too. Quench it again, and if that doesn’t fix it, we’ll leave it in the jig overnight.”

Lukas stared at the banana-shaped blade sitting on the anvil. When he tapped it, it wobbled, clattering noisily instead of laying flat. He picked it up by the tang and slid the blade end into the fire. 

“Thank you for today,” he said, hugging Kat. His insides felt warm, and it wasn’t just because he had spent most of the day between a roaring furnace and the blindingly bright forge. “I had an incredible time.”

“I did, too,” she replied, kissing his cheek. “You’re not a bad student.”

“He should quit delving and weapons training and pursue metalwork full-time,” the blacksmith stated, passing by. His voice had regained its gruffness. It seemed to appear primarily when Elvis and Kat were in physical contact. Elvis was starting to think it was an act. “Risking talent in the undercity is foolish.”

“See. You got a compliment from Da.” Kat laughed once her father disappeared into the shop connected to the workshop. “The blade might be warped, but it's better than most first blades. He’s genuinely impressed.”

“It’s all thanks to you.” Elvis’s heart fluttered, eyes locked on his work. He was proud of what he had done and hoped El-Prime would share his joy. Lukas hadn’t felt happiness in far too long. So much time had passed since that clone struggled to remember what it felt like to be happy. However, between Kat and creating something usable and pretty out of scrap, Elvis believed that was it.

Lukas helped Penelope set up the ritual. They were in the research center near the city’s center, where she regularly disappeared for several hours every day. Usually, a clone followed her and waited outside in case she needed porter services. This time, Lukas personally accompanied her.

Unlike with the city guard, security at the building stopped the woman and checked her luggage. They also questioned Lukas’s presence, and they had to spend a quarter of an hour getting him access and approval. It was the first time he saw Penelope genuinely lose patience when she chewed out the man in charge. They almost broke into a full-on argument until the research center’s head appeared and calmed things down. 

A good deal of people in the building appeared to resent her. Lukas understood. Most appeared to have dedicated a good part of their life, if not most of it, to arcane research, many working in the same field as Penelope’s research. It was likely they believed that they could do better than her or deserved the opportunity. Lukas guessed none had a draconic bloodline or her personal experience. The organization she served, some sort of conclave of sorcerers, apparently held a good deal of influence and respect across several states around Fracture.

In the end, Lukas got access, and she guided him into the basement, where Penelope conducted her analyses. The cubes of frozen flesh went in heavy jars full of clear, viscous fluid. She dispelled the spell, and their color and texture immediately changed. Next, Penelope drew a detailed ritual circle with magic. Scars covered the floor, showing signs of lacerations, burns, and old spells. It seemed someone had smoothed the stone over but didn’t seem to have done a good job.

Meanwhile, Lukas identified several samples for her and wrote down what the journal had to say about them. Six out of thirteen carried the ‘mutated’ tag. Penelope had him mark the rest for disposal.

“I’ll be putting up a public job for healthy, non-mutated samples of them,” Penelope said. “If you were stronger, I’d send you down for them. But you’re both tier one, and Elvis just has the one shard—”

“Hopefully, not for long,” Lukas interrupted. 

“Yes, not for long, but two tier-one abilities aren’t going to cut it. I’ll ensure no one without at least one tier-three ability can take the job. I don’t want people needlessly dying because the pay is high.”

“Then keep it low and leave an ambiguous ‘bonuses available’ in the description. More than half the jobs on the board do it.”

“And do people like it?” Penelope asked. “That would annoy the hell out of me.”

“Elvis and I haven’t taken on any jobs yet. We had plans to go down at least once before yesterday, but the smithy needed him, and I threw myself into picking up whatever magic I could.”

“And it paid off.” Penelope nodded toward the nearby table. Chalk, a pestle and mortar, and a simple knife sat atop it. “I need a few drops of blood. Then, crush and mix chalk into it.”

Lukas did as instructed. “Is it needed to help me form a bond with the shard?” 

“No such thing. The ritual requires blood, and this is for your benefit. So, we might as well use yours.”

Even though she claimed to have done it before, Penelope needed to dig out an old journal for reference. She used a paintbrush to add runes to the spell circle, using the chalk-blood mixture as ink. Lukas held it for her, and they double and triple-checked everything multiple times. It was a slow and mundane affair. The need for special ink demanded everything be done by hand. At the same time, all the runes and syntax needed to be perfect. 

A giant equilateral triangle sat within the circle. Its corners stretched over the edge. Smaller circles sat within them, right where the circle would’ve intersected the triangle. Penelope had Lukas place the essences and cracked shard within them. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to use the Essence of Shadow?” Penelope asked again. “Given your soul ability, something that grants you stealth in the Body or Heart Pillar would make your life significantly easier.”

Lukas nodded, placing the Essence of Phasing in one circle and the Essence of Change in the next. “I’d rather have speed and agility over stealth.” Arcane Clone already gave him enough means to trick and get around opponents. “I can always use Essence of Shadow when ascending the ability to a future tier.”

“It’s worth noting that only ascension to the second tier comes with significant changes. You want to use future essences to enhance what the pillar can already do instead of adding more functions. Potency trumps versatility.”

“I understand. Nine abilities are more than enough. Any more, and it's like having too many different arrows in your quiver, and you end up not using half of them. Better to master the few and make the most out of them.”

“Precisely.” Penelope smiled, nodding. “If you have glaring weaknesses, it’s better to learn magic or commission enchantment equipment to cover them.” She took a step back and studied the spell circle again. “You want Essence of Phasing to play the primary role here. Not Essence of Change. Right?”

Lukas nodded.

“Then swap them around.”

“Got it.” He did as instructed and placed the cracked shard in the third circle. Meanwhile, Penelope placed the hollow shard in the square at the center of the ritual. He thought everything over one last time. “We had a look through the markets. It all looks good. Let’s do it.”

“I hope you understand there is no going back once we get started,” Penelope stated, kneeling at one of the triangle’s points.

“I understand.”

“Sit there.” She pointed at the point with the Essence of Phasing. Bass sat behind the Essence of Change. Her staff lay across her lap, the wisps within smaller than the day before. The sorcerer started once Lukas was in position.

All the lights in the room darkened, and the azure wisp flared. Its color bled into the ritual circle, spreading from where Penelope sat. Lukas had hoped to ‘borrow’ the journal containing the ritual’s details, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if it was magic that specifically required draconic lineage. If so, he had no hopes of replicating it, even if his magical prowess significantly improved.

The essences and cracked shard started to vibrate once the entire ritual circle lit up. As luminosity increased, they floated off the floated, all rotating rapidly. One by one, their outer surfaces started to melt. It started with the Essence of Change. The outside liquified, and a twisting beam tendril of light connected the ever-shifting mass at its center to the hollow shard. It, too, started to shake violently, rotating on its side.

It was the Essence of Phasing’s turn next. The exterior dissolved, and a beam shot from the black core to the hollow shard. Its black center looked like a viewing slit into the abyss that one of Lukas’s clones once had the misfortune of encountering. If Minarv of the Court of Owls hadn’t purged most of the memory, Lukas was sure it would’ve eventually driven him mad. He only remembered to look the other way if any such phenomena appeared again. Black tinted glass seemed to surround the line, and the outermost edges were transparent. Light refracted, passing through it, making the world on the other side appear twisted and warped.

Finally, the cracked shard acted. Its contents leaked out of the cracks and flowed like water through a vacuum, connecting to the ritual circle’s center. Finally, the hollow shard took the air. It spun on the vertical axis, and the three beams slowly bled into it, mixing and twisting within. 

The three individual presences seemed in conflict, trying to overwhelm, consume, and repel each other simultaneously. They all seemed to want the central spot. In the blink of an eye, three became two. The Essence of Change dissolved, its ever-shifting contents disappearing. The beam connecting the triangle corner to the center turned solid white. Meanwhile, the hollow shard gained luminosity, glowing almost as bright as the Shard of Duplication.

The remaining presences seemed to strike a harmony, the cracked shard’s fluid contents turned black and tar-like. It wasn’t as dark as the Essence of Phasing’s core, but close. The damaged shard dissolved altogether, and its exterior traveled along the now-white beam before merging with the hollow shard. 

Arcane lights dimmed. All the reagents disappeared. Only the new forearm-sized shard remained, floating in the ritual circle’s center.

“Take it,” Penelope said, sounding drained. “Inspect it. Tell me what we created.”

“Shard of Fluid Mass,” Lukas read from the journal. “Interesting abilities. It gives—”

“I don’t need to know. Go back to the inn. Use it.”

“I could do it right here and we can continue with work. It’s no troub—”

“I don’t know how it was for the Soul Pillar, but awakenings can be taxing, especially for the Body and Heart Pillars. It will hurt, knock you out, and you might expel waste—not the usual kind either.” Penelope wiped sweat from her brow. Bass sat down behind her, enlarging himself to the size of a Saint Bernard. She leaned against him. “Return to the inn. Maybe get in the bath. We’ll talk later.”