Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(108)

We bolt for the exit, coughing and clinging to each other the whole way. Temra is weakened from the fighting and the running and the smoke inhalation. I feel like I could run for days and never stop, despite the smoke affecting my lungs.

With every step, I can feel the pulsing flow of magic around me. The same way I’m aware of all the weapons I’ve made. But this last magic was cast on no singular weapon. I cast it on the veins of ore in the mine, which connect to the whole of the mountain. To the deposits beneath the city.

After all, when I heat the tip of a blade, am I not still capable of magicking the whole sword?

I’ve magicked all of Lirasu.

We find the warlord’s men gathered at the base of the mountain, near the city’s edge, just beneath where the second wave of fighting took place. Our soldiers are there with them, bound on the ground, kneeling, weapons removed.

Prince Skiro sits cross-legged next to the princess. Serutha is there, too. To the average onlooker, she appears to be applying pressure to Marossa’s wound. I know better. She’s magicking it where none can tell. She hid in the city for the fight, but I’m sure the wounds of the dying called to her, encouraged her to make an appearance even though we’ve lost.

It’s not long before Temra and I are spotted by Kymora’s soldiers. They eye us carefully; some even put their hands on their sword hilts.

I see a pile of weapons near the warlord’s horse. She likely wanted them all gathered so she could sift through for the magical ones.

While I process everything around us, Temra says to the group before us, “The warlord is dead. You’ll find her body in the mine.”

“Thank the Twins,” Skiro says. He stands.

“Back on your knees, Prince,” a woman out of sight says. Skiro glares at her before kneeling on the ground again. She steps forward.

It’s Elany. “If Kymora is truly dead, then we, her loyal followers, will take things from here. Starting with the executions of the prince and princess.”

A few soldiers detach from the rest and approach the royal siblings, but as they bend down to grip them with their hands, they pause.

One of the guards squints, adjusts position slightly, tries to reach for the prince again.

“What are you doing?” Elany asks of them. “Grab them.”

“They can’t,” I say, my mind still devoid of all emotion. Talking to Elany now has no effect on me. My anxiety is absent. “You cannot wrong another human in the boundaries of Lirasu. This is a safe haven. Magically protected.”

Elany scoffs, draws a bastard sword, and strides for me. Temra tenses at my side, but I hold her in place with a raised hand. Elany raises her sword to strike.

And it meets invisible resistance in the air.

She tries again. Again. Again.

I wish I could feel pride at what I’m seeing, but still there is nothing within me but clarity. I poured a lifetime of anxiety—which was brought to unbearable levels by all Kymora put me through—into that iron.

That magic will hold forever.

I say to all of Kymora’s listening soldiers, “I am Ziva Tellion, known for my magical blades. But that is not the extent of my powers. I can bend heated iron to my will, and I’ve magicked the ore beneath your feet, the ore in the mountains. Lirasu is a place of refuge and safety to all who come here. And you cannot conquer it.”

Elany’s face scrunches into fury. “Then we’ll leave and take the rest of Ghadra. I will have my vengeance!” She encourages Kymora’s soldiers to retrieve the pile of weapons. Asks that the wagons be loaded.

But as Kymora’s soldiers try to reach for the stolen weapons, they find themselves unable to touch a single one, as though they’d all been placed in an invisible box.

“Those aren’t yours,” I say. “Ghadra is not yours. These soldiers don’t have to follow you. You need to let this go, Elany. Find another way to achieve justice, because I will stop you if you try to hurt another innocent soul in Ghadra.”

“We’ll all stop you,” Skiro proclaims, standing again.

“We’ve already beaten your forces once. You surrendered,” Elany says with satisfaction.

“And you took great losses,” Skiro responds. “You don’t have the numbers to take on Ghadra anymore. My brother Verak didn’t send aid, but he has hundreds under his command. With his numbers beating you from the north and ours coming at you from the south, it would be a quick fight.”

I look around at what remains of Kymora’s soldiers. “These fighters aren’t loyal to you like they were to Kymora. How many do you think are interested in following you into a lost cause?”

For the first time, Elany loses some of her confidence. She does a sweep of the area with her eyes, taking note of the fidgety fighters.

And then Governor Erinar appears from seemingly nowhere. “I’m also curious how you intend to pay these soldiers? You won’t reap any spoils from the land as you go. You won’t make it that far. I have vast resources here. And now this land is protected. Maybe some of them would be interested in full-time honest work here? Also I’d wager the prince and princess could use more hands now. Why would they have reason to fight a lost cause when they can take safer work now that Prince Ravis and Warlord Kymora are dead?”

“Someone needs to rule Ravis’s Territory now,” Elany says. “We’ll march there, return—”