DABB-31
The Blind Blacksmith
By Neil Dabb
Copyright 2012 Neil Dabb
Smashwords Edition
*****
The Blind Blacksmith
by
Neil Dabb
Chapter 1
Stephen Alphonzo walked into his blacksmith shop. It was still dark, and Altron's twin suns would not be up for several hours, but this didn't bother Stephen, for his world was always dark. The old man moved his small frame quietly but confidently around his well-organized shop. Stephen didn't mind being blind. He had learned a new trade, so his life went on now much as it had before. As he opened the lid of the barrel containing the white forge sand, he heard the sound of hooves coming into the far side of town.
"It is a lucky being who returns to our town this early in the morning," he muttered as he carefully poured a scoop of sand into the forge and closed the lid on the barrel. While Vesting had many visitors, the knife-wraiths made it dangerous to be outside the city after dark. Stephen showed no outward signs of his raging curiosity as he carefully smoothed the white sand in the forge.
When Stephen was satisfied that the white mixture in the forge bowl was ready, he carefully took a scoop of the reactive red sand from another bin, and placed it in the center of the bowl. He was careful not to let any of the mixture fall from the forge bowl, since the sparks from the forge would cause the red sand to react with the dirt on the floor as easily as it would the white smithing sand. Stephen ran his hand over the pile. By using white and red sand of different coarseness, he fingers would gage when the mixture was just right. With a well-worn flint and steel he struck up his fire, then carefully arranged his tools in preparation for the day's work. He moved to his stockpile and felt around until he found a piece of iron that would suit his purpose. As he placed it in the fire there was a knock at the door.
Richard had ridden hard all night, and his two headed musk-mount was lathered as he rode into the small village of Vesting. The stone houses of the town were dark, but he had to try to find the town blacksmith. The situation at the space port and the timing involved allowed nothing less.
The blacksmith's shops would be near the center of the village, so he slowed his mount until its cloven hooves no longer kicked up wisps of dust as it walked. As he began moving out of the middle of town, Richard started to give up hope, fearing he would have to wait until morning. That would mean more wasted time, he thought.
Richard stopped his mount and looked closer at one of the shops. His heart jumped as he realized that it was a blacksmith shop and that the dim light was from a smithing fire. He puzzled that there were no other lights in the shop, but stopped anyway.
"Good morning," Stephen said as he opened the door. "May I help you?"
Stephen sensed that Richard towered over him by a good six inches.
"Yes, I have come from Vultran and must return by sunrise. If you could spare me some of your red forge sand, I would be in your debt," Richard said.
Stephen moved back over to the forge and pulled the iron he was working from the fire. He struck it once then placed it back into the fire. "Red forge sand is easily obtained here, but the road you must travel is very dangerous before the first light of day. You would do well to remain here until first light."
Richard now realized that Stephen was blind, but he still felt very self conscious when the old man focused his nonfunctional eyes on him. "I appreciate your concern my friend, but if I do not complete this task, we may all die."
"Perhaps that is so..." Stephen's voice trailed of and he shook his head. He turned and pulled the iron from the fire again and began shaping it with the hammer.
Richard was mesmerized at the constant rhythm of Stephen striking the metal. The only break was when Stephen stopped to run the piece across the edge of the anvil to gage his progress. Then he placed the iron back into the fire.
Twenty standard years (nearly twenty-five Altron years) had passed since Stephen had confronted the knife-wraiths. He remembered how he too, felt that the world would end if he did not complete his journey. Twenty years had also given him the insight to know how insignificant and even futile that mission had been. Each day walking in eternal darkness had burned that knowledge deep into his being. Now another young soul would suffer the same or even worse, if he did not help him. The fear that Stephen felt was tempered by the many years of experience he'd had since the accident.
"A long time ago I started on a trek much like the one you speak of, young man. I nearly died in the attempt and have not seen the light of day since."
Richard heard Stephen's words, but was still mesmerized from Stephen's work in the forge. Stephen took the iron from the fire and began his rhythmic pounding again. "You may have whatever you need, but in exchange you must tell me why your quest is so important."
Richard hesitated for a moment before he spoke. The situation was touchy at best, but the easy-going manner of the old blacksmith gave him a feeling that the man could be trusted. "Earlier today several ships from off-world landed. These ships are powered by light. The beings that fly the ships have requested that we build them a light source to launch them back into space, in return for some of their knowledge."
"You need not simplify your explanation for me young man. I have lived near the space port and am well aware of how a light drive works."
"Then you realize the problem with trying to build them a launching laser."
"Of course,” he said. “The atmosphere here has a nasty habit of eroding away most of the elements used in high-tech machinery such as launching lasers."
Richard smiled and nodded. "Yes. The problem is, if we can't create a light source for their ships they will cause one of our suns to go supernova." He waited for a reaction but none came.
"Then why do you need the red smithing sand?" Stephen asked.
"The engineers have determined that a simple purple and red sand reaction in a deep, polished shaft will be more than enough to send these beings on their way, and the knowledge they offer could bring high technology back to the rural areas."
"Don't you have any smiths in Vultran?"
"No, we have never found a need."
Waves of horror had been washing over Stephen with the mention of the purple red sand reaction. While he made no outward show of fear as he methodically took the iron he was working from the fire and continued to shape it, he could not quell the memories that came rushing back.
From as early as Stephen could remember, the knife-wraiths had been a threat to anyone traveling at night on Altron. When he grew up, he chose the life of a mediator of off world affairs as well as internal affairs. The off-world work gave him added insight to the knife-wraiths, and the conflict between the two races, but little more. The threat remained and even worsened, due to the fact that the humans had been unable to decipher the knife-wraith language, and the knife-wraiths had discovered that they could close their eyes to most artificial light and not be blinded, as they would be by normal day light. It got so bad that it seemed, at the time, like anywhere there was darkness there were knife-wraiths.
With the deterioration of high tech materials caused by the atmosphere, and the damage caused by the knife-wraiths as they learned how to disable the power generators, the outlying areas faced extinction or a very primitive lifestyle at best. The outlying areas reverted to the more primitive way of life, using two headed musk mounts for transportation to and from the space port in Vultran, as well as for work in the fields during the harvest season.
Stephen had been pressed into ensuring that the supply of high tech materials was always available and protected in the city. In his youthful arrogance he could only see one alternative to the eventual success of the wraiths destroying the humans in the port city. It would cost him dearly, but he felt that the world would end if he did not do something.
Stephen purchased one of the last portable lights that would effectively blind a knife-wraith, and then had gone to the main den of the knife-wraiths, or so he thought. He carried with him a large bag of red sand, and another of purple sand. He was determined to destroy, or at least blind every knife-wraith in that den. He could feel the presence of the knife-wraiths all around him, as he walked. In fact, he almost reconsidered his plan when he once thought that he could understand their language, but he strengthened his resolve when he stopped and it still sounded like gibberish.
When he got to what he assumed was the main assembly area, he poured out a few grains of the red sand and struck his flint, igniting the reactive red sand and the dirt of the cave. He dropped the bag of red sand, then the purple onto the little fire. Then he ran. He was halfway back to the surface when the inferno caught him. The heat wasn't bad, but the light... It seared right through his eyelids and by the time he stumbled out of the lair into the sunlight he was blind.
Stephen's heroics didn't stop the knife-wraiths. If anything they became more aggressive after the incident, and as a few brave observers who checked out the entrance to the den found out later, the knife-wraiths living in the den he had attacked had apparently been able to block themselves from the inferno. Twenty years later the horror of those memories still remained.
Stephen put the iron he was working back into the fire and shook his head to clear the memories as he spoke. "Are you aware of the dangers of using the purple sand?"
"Yes, I have a great respect for it, but that has not stopped me from using it for many years. It is the only way I can travel safely at night." Stephen could imagine Richard's eyes sparkling as he bragged, but Stephen was unimpressed. Richard explained further. "By mixing the purple sand with the feed of a musk mount, the heat of its breath and the reaction of the sand will cause it to blow fire from its nostrils as it breathes. The light is more than sufficient to blind a knife-wraith, and yet it is no brighter than the morning sun."
Stephen was silent as he took the piece of iron from the fire and finished shaping it. He had been away from the city too long. There were discoveries being made that he knew nothing about. For just a brief moment he felt an unquenchable urge to move back to Vultran, but he suspected if he did, that certain people would want him back as an arbitrator. He had no desire to do that again.
Stephen set the piece of iron aside. His curiosity got the better of him, as he spoke. "I would like to come with you to learn just what you intend to do. May I accompany you to Vultran?" It will only be for one day, he thought quickly.
"Of course, I would be glad to have the company."
Stephen quickly gathered his traveling gear, and left a note for his daughter. He felt a pang of guilt as he stopped near the door to her room before he left. Stephen had promised her mother that he would never go back to work for the government. It's just for a visit, he repeated to himself as he and Richard left the shop. It was over an hour before dawn when they rode out of Vesting.
end of chapter 1
Chapter 2
It was always clear and bright when the twin suns of Altron rose. The only moisture the parched ground received was the dew that formed at night, and then mostly during the winter months of the short Altron years. During those months the village of Vesting was a very busy place, with farmers caring for their crops, and the other tradesmen vying for the farmers business. It was now the middle of summer and there was barely enough dew to keep the people alive, so life in the village moved very slowly. Very few of the residents of Vesting believed in getting up early.
Janet Alfonso realized that there was something wrong when she woke to find the morning light streaming into her room without the constant rhythm of her father at work in his shop. She quickly brushed her light brown hair, shed her heavy sleeping robe and donned a light, mid-length riding tunic. The suns had already warmed the house to a pleasant temperature, so she set about closing the windows so that the well-insulated house she shared with her father would stay cool the rest of the day.
Janet found the note her father had left for her on the table, but it was all too brief for her liking.