Fall of Angels

LXXXVI

NYLAN STUDIED THE completed rear wall of the would-be smithy, and took a deep breath. He was getting tired of the building that seemed endless. His eyes flicked to the high puffy clouds. Would it never end?

His mother had been right, though. No one else cared about his troubles, except Ayrlyn. He smiled, tentatively, then blanked his face at the sound of boots on the road.

“How soon will you have this forge operating?” asked Fierral as she stepped within the uncompleted walls.

Nylan glanced around the area, trying to estimate. “Awhile,” he finally said. “Only have half the walls done. The forge itself …” He shook his head.

The guard leader frowned.

“Why?”

“We don’t have that long. We’re reaching the limits of the blades you forged. We’ve never had enough of those bows. And we’re getting more and more women showing up. They don’t have the training the best locals do. Most of us don’t, but we’re getting there.” Fierral ran her hand through her short-cropped fire-red hair. “What gives us a chance is your weapons.”

“But you need more?” asked the engineer.

“We need more of everything. Arrowheads first. Frigging Gerlich-he took off hunting this morning with a good fifty shafts. Showed how few we have left.”

Nylan pursed his lips. Gerlich, again. Now what was the man up to?

“Ser …” Fierral asked quietly. “Do you really need a smithy built like the tower? We just can’t wait for that. The locals won’t.”

Nylan looked around again. “I can put together a forge of some sort in the next few days-I have to have that-and develop a bellows of some sort. And you’ll have to help me make charcoal. You can’t smith without coal or charcoal.”

“Whatever it takes, ser.” Fierral’s eyes drifted to the practice yard below the front of the tower. “I’m just a guard leader. I’ll never be that much more, not like you or the marshal. But the guards, all of the women, they need the weapons.”

Nylan understood that the words were as close to a plea as Fierral would ever offer; that, like him, she kept the doubts and fears and concerns held tightly.

“I’ll get working on it,” he promised.

“Thank you.”

Nylan did not sigh until she was halfway back to the practice yard.