Chapter 4: Forgotten Heritage

Xenorath rolled back and thrust out his legs, flipping himself back onto his feet. The Ero-Bal was little more than a pile of bones and the stream of black smoke that once poured from it like from a bonfire had become little more than a thin fog. Its ribcage was as splintered as his hatchet. He looked again to his hand. All that was left of the weapon that had been passed down through his family for generations was a hilt with a few small white shards stuck on the end. Xenorath frowned. His father would have been furious, if he were still alive. There was nothing he could do to fix it now. The fragments would be nearly impossible to distinguish from the shattered remnants of the Ero-Bal, and the weak light provided by the dying flame on the tree would not be enough to see by.

"Come on. We must be in Mayoi by sunrise," Keltslash said behind him. With a sigh, Xenorath turned and followed him down the road.
"More business to attend to?" he asked.
"Yes,"
"It would be nice if you could do this business during the day for once,"

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Sunlight poured over the hills as dawn broke in Mayoi. Xenorath awoke and yawned. For the first time in weeks he had a decent bed to sleep on. Unfortunately, he had not slept as long as he would have liked. A full night's sleep had become a rarity ever since Keltslash had begun these business meetings. Hopefully they wouldn't have to be somewhere by tomorrow night. His combat ability was beginning to suffer. Not that it really mattered now that he didn't have a weapon to fight with.

Before too long he heard the door of the tree hut open.

"Oh, you're awake," Keltslash said, "Well then, get up. We've got a few days before I must meet with the next contact so we may as well enjoy the break,"

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The town of Mayoi was alive with the cries of adventurers trying to sell the weapons, gear, and various trinkets they had obtained from whatever quest or battle in which they had taken part. Others played instruments with varying degrees of success. A large group crowded around the local forge. Keltslash watched with a frown as beautifully crafted weapons that were hundreds of years old were broken down and used as materials for new, standardized equipment. Such a pity that so many saw ancient artifacts merely as something to be turned into newer items. Then something caught his eye.

He broke into a run. At the forge a human was beginning to stick a blade into the smelting furnace. He had only got the tip in before Keltslash caught him by the wrist.

"What are you doing?" the shocked human asked him.
"I could ask you the very same question. Why would you throw away a blade such as this?" he replied.
"What? This piece of junk? I was just going to use it to make some armor,"
"This sword is a work of art!" Keltslash said angrily. He sighed and shook his head, "If you're just going to use it for the iron, I can give you something of equal quality to use in its place,"
"Well, all right then, take it if it means that much to you," the human replied, with some reluctance.

Keltslash searched his pack until he found a chunk of iron he had purified. He handed it to the adventurer who gave him the sword in return. As he walked off to find Xenorath, Keltslash swung the sword a few times experimentally. The blade crackled with lightning as its long blade sliced through the air.

Oh yes, this would do nicely.

Assuming all goes well, I should add a new chapter every week on Friday. If you have any comments, email me at editor@warcry.com