“What about arrows?” Her excitement was still growing.
“Those are relatively easy; we would make each part separately and then bind them together. They are only effective as far as your control reaches, though. Once a forged arrow leaves your range, the magic will spring back to you.
“I’m not worried about the range.” Iryana smiled.
She wasn’t sure what had come over her, but she felt more sure of herself than she had as a reckless child leaping across rocks in the stream outside Klees.
It took a full week down in the chambers of the temple before Iryana was done with her forgings. There were plenty of powerful Istrins with collections of forgings, but the Keeper had been impressed.
It was strange to think that storms had raged above while she’d been toiling away under the earth. It had to be close to the full moon—the Storming Moon halfway over already. The Kleesold Clan would know of her success by the end of the month. Leaving the last month of summer, the Harvest Moon, and the first autumn month, the Thatching Moon, before the Falling Moon likely brought the first frost. They’d safely have two months before the duchess’s ultimatum, and she hoped that would be enough to turn things around.
Iryana paused at the base of the ladder, touching the Keeper’s arm before he could lead them up. Her initial shame and awkwardness around him after all she’d shared had eventually turned into a deep comfort.
“Keeper, I have a question, but I don’t want to offend you.”
He looked at her carefully, taking his hand off the ladder. “What is it, my child?”
“This well is controlled by the 18th,” she started, watching his face to decide whether she could continue.
“That isn’t a question.” A single brow tilted, but the rest of his face didn’t react. In fact, it was eerily still.
“Are you controlled by the brigades? Are you loyal to them?”
“The wells and the conclave have always kept themselves separate from politics. The brigade may guard and protect the land around this temple, but the well is open to anyone who can get here.” There was a knowing glint in his eye that Iryana hoped she wasn’t imagining.
A shiver ran up her spine. She would just have to get more Kleesolds behind the walls.
“We shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.” Iryana nodded at the ladder.
When she emerged from the last passage, she had to squint at the sunlight pouring through the doorway.
She stepped around the Keeper and into the courtyard, closing her eyes at the warmth. The forging had kept her sweating much of the last week, but there wasnothing to compare to the gentle warmth of the sun. Even the soft sounds of someone kneading dough and the tittering of the chickens felt exquisite.
“You’re done.” The low, familiar voice had her eyes snapping open.
Pyetar sat on a crude wooden stool at the edge of the courtyard, carving something with a metal-forged dagger that she’d never seen him with. He wasn’t armored, just wearing his shirt loose at the neck. His whole body was more relaxed than she had ever seen him.
“Yeah,” she answered, body tensing.
“Show me.”
She hesitated, though she wasn’t sure why. But eventually her own temptation to truly try out her new forgings won over.
“Like yours.” Iryana formed her own dagger, very similar to Pyetar’s, then pulled the magic back.
“And a beast spear.” Iryana formed the long-handled, triple-bladed weapon, giving it a spin before releasing it for her bow instead. She couldn’t stop her smile. “And this will hopefully work nicely.”
The bow was partially strung when formed, and it only took a moment for her to slip one of the curved tips under her foot and bend the bow enough to slip the end of the string over the other tip. With enough practice, the Keeper thought she may be able to form it already strung.
“Antar had mentioned you had a deep well of magic inside you,” Pyetar said softly. “With all that, you could rival the strongest at the fort. With practice, of course.”
She grinned.
There hadn’t been a way to try firing the bow down in the temple, and she was excited to try it. Forming an arrow in her hand, Iryana nocked it, and drew back.
While an air-forged bow allowed for easier aiming and reduced drag, letting one shoot far more accurately at further distances, a metal-forged bow would give normal arrows a bit of extra force and power. Some of the metal-magic seemed to cling to the arrows as well, if the metal-forged archers of the group were anything to go by. Mezhimar’s arrows seemed to do far more damage to the dakii than ones shot from an air-forged bow. But they had all used normal arrows, perhaps forge-imbued. She imagined an actual arrow forging would do far more damage.
If she could hold it long enough. The further away a forging moved, the harder it would be to maintain its form. Even if they could hold it long enough, when the projectiles hit their target, the force would usually be jarring enough that many would lose control of the forging.
