Shadowguard

Banor's forge was one of the stranger buildings in town. Circular and half buried in the ground, it sat nestled between two much taller apartment buildings in the middle of the northwestern quadrant. A set of worn steps led down to a pair of thick steel doors set into the earth. They were open; the sounds of hissing steam and a hammer striking metal rose from within.

As a dwarf, Banor insisted he worked best beneath the ground. His people inhabited the Scintillating Peaks due south of the town. Beyond them lay the mysterious Indarian Region, where the dwarves once dwelt before the people drove them deeper beneath the mountains and further into Trellan. The elves that inhabited the woods west of town hadn't been far behind them.

Few knew anything of the region that bordered Trellan to the east and south. The Scintillating Peaks were nearly impassable, the peaks too high to climb and the caves beneath too treacherous to pass. Only the dwarves knew the way through the mountains, and they kept the knowledge to themselves.

What Everna knew of Indaria, she'd learned from Banor. It was a predominately human region, he claimed, and one that had widely forsaken both the gods and magic. They worshiped only a single deity, a goddess as temperamental as the sea she commanded, and disparaged anything dissimilar to them. Many of Banor's kin met their end simply for stepping into their realm.

It was an odd concept Everna couldn't wrap her mind around. Inverness was largely populated by humans (as was much of the region, so she heard), but there were many other races to be found. Beyond a few specific instances, the racial differences weren't of much concern. When racial mixing began, especially between humans and elves, that acceptance became a matter of debate.

The elves were arrogant, infuriatingly so. She'd met several in her life, and Andryll was an oddity among them. Most elves viewed humans with contempt — as vermin encroaching on what they believed were lands that belonged only to them. Humans, it seemed, couldn't care less what they thought so long as the elves let them be. And they did, for the most part. Inverness had the odd border dispute with the elven kingdom deep within the Nivfell Woods, but nothing more than a few petty arguments came of it.

Perhaps that intolerance wasn't so odd, now that she thought of it.

"Gods, this place is unbearable," Lyra bemoaned. She pulled her scarf from her neck and used the end to wipe the sweat from her brow.

Even the sweltering heat of Highsun couldn't compare to the absolute misery inside the forge. Molten metal boiled in the vats carved into the far wall. A massive furnace dominated the western wall, flames the color of starlight burning behind the protective grate. Weapons hung from the walls: swords, axes, and spears sharpened and polished until they shone beneath the torches that kept the eastern side of the building illuminated.

It was a welcome change from the frigid cold, but with her coat, it quickly became too much. Everna shed her outerwear and tossed it onto the hook near the door. Lyra followed suit, happily discarding her cloak and scarf.

In the far corner of the forge, Banor labored over a small anvil nestled beside a thick water pump. His skin gleamed with sweat. Soot and coal stained his pale beard black. Singe marks littered his clothes, and a nasty bruise encircled his left eye.

"Hit yourself with the hammer again?" Everna asked.

"Ha, ha. I see your sense of humor's still intact," Banor scoffed. He slammed his hammer down onto the unfinished sword perched precariously atop the anvil, then added, "And you look as pale as snow. You need to get out more, lass."

"I don't want to hear that from a man who lives in half a hole in the ground."

"You say that like you weren't in one a few days ago." Banor set the hammer aside and wiped the sweat from his brow with his beard. "You can thank me later."

Everna threw him a quizzical look. "For what?"

"Sir Swiftbrook asked me to look at your sword." He stepped away from the anvil and beckoned the girls to the table in the center of the room. "Wanted me to check for signs of use, pointless as it was."

"I don't see how verifying that is pointless," Everna argued.

"Because I didn't need to do the whole bloody process to prove it, but he insisted.

He reached for a folded bundle perched in the middle of the table. The cloth was thick and stained with polishing oil and grease. He pulled on a piece protruding from a subtle twist in the fabric, and it fell away, revealing Everna’s sword. It looked the same as the day she got it; gleaming steel that shone blue beneath the light.

"It's pretty," Lyra said, eying the sword with awe. “I don't think I've ever seen it outside of the sheath before."

"Because I never use it," Everna said.

"A damn shame, too," Banor lamented. "You think it's pretty now? It'd be downright gorgeous if she'd used it. Pains me to see my best work collecting dust, but, that may have saved your life."

Lyra frowned. "I don't understand how you could tell she's never used it."

"Dwarven steel's a marvel of a thing," Banor said. He pointed a stocky finger at the edge of the sword, where the light was strongest. "See how blue it is? When Dwarven steel comes into contact with blood, the iron reacts with the metal and turns it iridescent. If the metal's been tempered properly, that is."

Lyra wrinkled her nose. "Well, that's a gruesome thought."

"Swords don't belong in a display case, girl.”. He muttered something under his breath, then continued, "Whoever planted this beauty at the scene didn't know what they were dealing with. If the mayor died from this sword, it wouldn't be blue as the day I forged it. The only thing it's seen is the inside of a scabbard and the occasional polish."

She was certain had it not been a request from her father, Banor never would've given her that sword. Dwarves took great pride in their work and placed greater significance on their metals. She'd taken it to a dwarven smithy in the captial to have it cleaned, and the smith nearly fainted when she removed it from the sheath. He could not believe a dwarf had given her such a blade.

She'd nearly gotten her head lopped off as he'd thought she'd stolen it.

"It saw a floorboard, once," Everna corrected. "That's why I never touched it. Damned thing cut through it like warmed butter."

Banor laughed, loud and boisterous. "Dwarven weapons are sharp, surely, but that one's special. Quite a few nifty enchantments on it. Took a forever to make. Blame your father. You're not the best with the sword, I hear, and he feared you'd need a bit of help."

"I'm not that bad. He's just overly critical," she defended. "Not that it matters. I've never had to use it, thank the gods."

Banor raised a bushy brow. "Even in the capital?"

"No, just having it on me seemed enough of a deterrent."

Banor motioned for her to take the sword. As Everna curled her fingers around the hilt, Lyra asked, "If you knew the sword wasn't the... murder weapon, why didn't you say anything?"

"I did. Didn't do a damned bit of good," Banor spat. "Windmore didn't care, and even now, he's trying to get my assessment written off. Says I'm too close to Ronan to take my word for it."

"And by his own logic, we shouldn't take anything he says as truth for the opposite reasons," Everna clipped. She retrieved the scabbard from the table and slid the sword inside, more than relieved to have it in her possession once more.

It would now stay on her person at all times. The last thing she needed was for it to turn up at the scene of another murder.

"True, but that may have spared you the mob," he said. "I'll tell you, Andryll's right. Had anyone else arrested you that night, you'd never be able to show your face in this town again."

"I'm still surprised someone hasn't tried to lynch me," she said as he tucked the sword into her waistband. "And I feel like I'm the only one concerned about the fact that no one seems to care."

Banor waved her off. "It's not that no one cares; it's that no one believes Windmore. This isn't the first time he's done this. He tried to ruin Arden when he first ran. He's tried it with your father several times."

Everna raised a brow. "He tried to ruin Mayor Ashburn? Why?"

"I don't know the details, but there's a bit of a history between those three. Lots of bad blood." He paused then, his brows drawn and his lips pressed into a firm line. "Between the three of us, I think Windmore did it. There's talk that his son is planning to run, and everyone in Pendel knows that as long as Ashburn's running, no one else has a chance in hell."

That was news to her. She knew there were several running against him, but she hadn't heard the word of Windmore's son. He rarely graced the town with his presence, preferring to keep to his family's lavish countryside villa. She'd met him once or twice before, and from what she'd gathered, he wasn't on good terms with his father.

"Half the time I forget he has a son," Lyra said. "I still can't believe there's a woman in the kingdom who'd want to marry a man like him."

"Money," Everna pointed out. "People quickly cast aside their morals and decency when money's involved."

"If not Windmore, then his son, and Windmore framed you to cover for him." Banor slapped his hand on the table, then shrugged. "Just a thought."

Everna worried at the inside of her cheek. If Windmore's son truly intended to run, he wouldn't have a chance. Mayor Ashburn served thirty years in office. The townspeople were content with his leadership, and he wasn't quite old enough for concerns of aging to sway their opinion. Windmore's son would still lose, even with Mayor Ashburn no longer a consideration. No one in Pendel wanted to see Windmore have any more power; he already had too much as it was.

It was vital information, but she hadn't a clue to do with it. Confronting Windmore wasn't an option; she had neither the patience nor the authority to interrogate him, nor a member of the clergy to ensure he spoke the truth. Sir Swiftbrook likely already questioned him and found nothing. He was likely already aware of the rumors.

"Sometimes passing thoughts are more helpful than you realize," she muttered.

At least now she had a legitimate reason to suspect Windmore.