Blademage Adept (The Blademage Saga Book 3) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Chris Hollaway
irritation.
----
“It’ll need a stout grip,” Kevon commented, scraping the last of the fired clay from the blade’s fuller. “The tip is still heavier than I expected.”
“Alder,” Kylgren-Wode grumbled, fussing over the placement of the tools and the newly-made fuller-jig back in the box. “Been passing them fer days before we stopped. Best thing for it, until we find some Ironwood.”
“The patterns are…” Kevon traced a finger along the wavy borderline of dark and light metal that rippled along the length of the weapon between the outer edges and the depression of the fuller.
“The same as ye’ll see if ye look close at yer axe,” the dwarf lectured, packing away the rivets, leather, and a length of bright red ribbon he’d produced from somewhere. “Different metal, doesn’t mark as easy. Same methods.”
“And you’re sure that I won’t want to sharpen it here?” The thickened edges that ran nearly to the top of the depression in the blade would take a good deal of filing to bring to a working edge.
“Yer learning the war-axe,” Kylgren-Wode shook his head. “Two hands from the tip, all the sharpening yer going te need.”
Kevon nodded, feeling the thickening at the end of the weapon, the slight flaring that lent extra weight, but thinned the metal for easier sharpening. The variations in coloring appeared as tongues of cold flame, different on each side of the sword-tip, but similar enough. The weight distribution would be more like an axe or hammer, the cutting reserved for the end, the length of the blade more for blocking and breaking. A flicker of familiarity lurked for a moment at the edge of his awareness, but fled as he noticed it.
“I like it.”
Chapter 6
The better part of the morning consisted of sorting out breakfast and clearing the layers of ash that had settled over everything in the wagon during the night. Rhysabeth-Dane doled out the last of the ship’s biscuits and hunks of cheese they’d traded for before they left the port almost three weeks prior. Kylgren-Wode unlatched the back gate of the wagon, stowed the partially finished blade, and let the horses eat hay from the end of one of the uncovered bales.
Kevon patted down the fresh earth over the re-buried box of tools. The remaining stock and scrap that was left in the box was supplemented with a pouch of coin that was nearly twice the value of the supplies they had used for repairs and new weapons. Had the owner been present, the improvements they’d made over the week they’d spent there might have paid for the iron they’d taken. Without such an agreement, Kevon felt guilty even leaving as much silver as they had.
Mirsa sat outside, looking over the Dwarven librarian’s shoulder as she studied the ancient book and her notes.
“Eat,” Rhysabeth scolded the Master Mage before hunching back over the text.
“It’s not agreeing with me-”
“It is not just for you…”
“Hush,” Mirsa cautioned, looking around to where the others made preparations for departure. “No one knows…”
“They are blind,” Rhysabeth-Dane agreed, glaring over her shoulder for a moment. “But they do need to know.”
“When the time is right.”
“If you’re talking about leaving, the time is right now.” Alanna knocked the caked ash from the soles of her boots before picking up her saddle and disappearing back outside as fast as she had appeared.
Mirsa gnawed off a bite of cheese, and washed it down with a swig of water.
The Dwarven librarian nodded as she began arranging her notes and books, packing them away for travel.
Kylgren-Wode helped Mirsa and Rhysabeth-Dane stow their belongings and lifted them into the back of the wagon before securing the gate. He snugged the harnesses of both of the stout draft horses before he climbed up to the seat and took the reins.
“What are ye waiting fer?” he roared at Kevon and Alanna, already in their saddles and standing by. “The mountain te belch
----
“It’ll need a stout grip,” Kevon commented, scraping the last of the fired clay from the blade’s fuller. “The tip is still heavier than I expected.”
“Alder,” Kylgren-Wode grumbled, fussing over the placement of the tools and the newly-made fuller-jig back in the box. “Been passing them fer days before we stopped. Best thing for it, until we find some Ironwood.”
“The patterns are…” Kevon traced a finger along the wavy borderline of dark and light metal that rippled along the length of the weapon between the outer edges and the depression of the fuller.
“The same as ye’ll see if ye look close at yer axe,” the dwarf lectured, packing away the rivets, leather, and a length of bright red ribbon he’d produced from somewhere. “Different metal, doesn’t mark as easy. Same methods.”
“And you’re sure that I won’t want to sharpen it here?” The thickened edges that ran nearly to the top of the depression in the blade would take a good deal of filing to bring to a working edge.
“Yer learning the war-axe,” Kylgren-Wode shook his head. “Two hands from the tip, all the sharpening yer going te need.”
Kevon nodded, feeling the thickening at the end of the weapon, the slight flaring that lent extra weight, but thinned the metal for easier sharpening. The variations in coloring appeared as tongues of cold flame, different on each side of the sword-tip, but similar enough. The weight distribution would be more like an axe or hammer, the cutting reserved for the end, the length of the blade more for blocking and breaking. A flicker of familiarity lurked for a moment at the edge of his awareness, but fled as he noticed it.
“I like it.”
Chapter 6
The better part of the morning consisted of sorting out breakfast and clearing the layers of ash that had settled over everything in the wagon during the night. Rhysabeth-Dane doled out the last of the ship’s biscuits and hunks of cheese they’d traded for before they left the port almost three weeks prior. Kylgren-Wode unlatched the back gate of the wagon, stowed the partially finished blade, and let the horses eat hay from the end of one of the uncovered bales.
Kevon patted down the fresh earth over the re-buried box of tools. The remaining stock and scrap that was left in the box was supplemented with a pouch of coin that was nearly twice the value of the supplies they had used for repairs and new weapons. Had the owner been present, the improvements they’d made over the week they’d spent there might have paid for the iron they’d taken. Without such an agreement, Kevon felt guilty even leaving as much silver as they had.
Mirsa sat outside, looking over the Dwarven librarian’s shoulder as she studied the ancient book and her notes.
“Eat,” Rhysabeth scolded the Master Mage before hunching back over the text.
“It’s not agreeing with me-”
“It is not just for you…”
“Hush,” Mirsa cautioned, looking around to where the others made preparations for departure. “No one knows…”
“They are blind,” Rhysabeth-Dane agreed, glaring over her shoulder for a moment. “But they do need to know.”
“When the time is right.”
“If you’re talking about leaving, the time is right now.” Alanna knocked the caked ash from the soles of her boots before picking up her saddle and disappearing back outside as fast as she had appeared.
Mirsa gnawed off a bite of cheese, and washed it down with a swig of water.
The Dwarven librarian nodded as she began arranging her notes and books, packing them away for travel.
Kylgren-Wode helped Mirsa and Rhysabeth-Dane stow their belongings and lifted them into the back of the wagon before securing the gate. He snugged the harnesses of both of the stout draft horses before he climbed up to the seat and took the reins.
“What are ye waiting fer?” he roared at Kevon and Alanna, already in their saddles and standing by. “The mountain te belch
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