Four Horsemen: Chapter 10 Part 2 of 2

Valter kept himself relaxed, moving his limbs to warm them up.

A path had been cleared through the remains of the cathedral, wooden fortifications had been thrown up hastily.

“Alright past this point you’re only allowed to take your tools. Use that cart there to stack them. If you have storage devices put them into one of the boxes and then you can pick them up after you’re done.” The guard leading them said, staring at Valter.

Valter took off the metal storage devices hanging off his belt holding materials and his new clothing. He’d heard Desari getting taken away, moving his most valuable items to the silver coin storage device he still had from Mya.

He was supposed to be using the broken gear in there to make new gear for everyone. So much for that plan.

“What kind of tools do we need?” The scarred bald man that turned out to be Alan, the owner of the forge asked.

“Carving tools, for silver.”

The altar?

Valter pulled out his tools and apron from the metal storage devices on his belt before placing the devices in a box.

Valter pulled his apron on, putting his tools into its belt and pockets.

A guard picked up the storage device. “What the hell I can’t access it, open it up.”

“Soul bound laddie, didn’t want anyone getting into my gear,” Valter smiled.

The young soldier grabbed the hilt of his sword, snarling and leaning forward.

“You’ll be in for a world of hurt.” An older guard held his arm. “He and his band defeated a stone, and two shadow golems, held the south eastern gate.”

Valter raised and eyebrow, the man looked familiar, his left side bandaged and others under his helmet.

“You were part of the catapult crew.”

“Aye, though with my current state they thought it best to put me on light duties.” He took his hand from the other guard’s arm.

“Hurry up!” The guard leading the group of smiths yelled, his eyes darted to the wall, his face slackening. “Come on!”

Valter nodded to the two guards and moved after the other smiths. The guards could see it as clear as anyone, come morning their enemies with their reinforcements would smash against the walls until they broke in.

The crypts lay under rubble, a path had been cleared to the corridor into the mountain. Stains and scratches remained of Valter’s first battle.

A mobile crucible with a flame underneath bubbled at the entrance to the silver altar room. Priests poured in a white and grey concoction, like mouldy milk, and added silver. Others moved over the walls and the altar, tracing out lines and symbols across the room in chalk. Stone masons chipped along the lines. The altar was thick with the lines and runes, the center of whatever ritual they were working on.

Valter wished he could pull out his book on runes to figure out just what he was looking at.

“Alright your job is to carve out the runes and formations that the priests have lined the room with, then you have to fill in the lines carved into the ground with silver.” The guard with them said.

“You, you and you,” Alan pointed at Valter last. “You three with me, we’ll work on the altar top, you two work on the far side, you two the close side, you and you on the top and bottom. Rest of you work on the metal plate under the altar. Remember, take out small amounts to start, ask if anything looks wrong, this is runecraft, everything needs to be perfect. You six work on pouring the silver into the grooves that the stone masons have made.”

Alan walked forward, the different groups breaking out.

Valter joined the group at the top of the Altar, the top was dense with runes.

“This is going to be one hell of a job.” One smith rubbed his unshaved face.

“You sure about him?” Another with a nose ring gestured at Valter.

“Hold up your blade.” Alan said.

Valter did so.

The man with a nose ring grunted.

“Valter work on the small detail lines, Remin, you work on the smaller runes. I’ll work on the geometrics. Dula you do the interconnecting ones with the other sides.” Alan said.

“The hells got the church running around so much?” Dula the unshaved man asked.

“Heard that the wall ain’t looking too good.” Remin, the nose ring man looked at Valter.

“They’re coming over that wall unless the champion decides to jump in, or the priests can get talking to Jorai.”

“So what they said is true, Jorai isn’t answering prayers or giving blessings?” Remin asked.

“Didn’t see any blessings or signs of Jorai till the very end of the fighting. If it was me, I would’ve done those kinds of things earlier, save more lives, keep the wall intact.”

“Well now we here to chat among ourselves or get to work.” Alan snarled, he glanced at them and pulled out a large screwdriver, he popped a crystal into the rear of the screwdriver and turned it. The driver’s end spun with a whizzing noise. He applied it to the surface of the altar, tracing out the lines, careful to not remove the other chalk lines.

Valter bowed his head, studying the runes and pulling out a runed blade.

Power is linked to the runic pointed towards the city. He studied the essence gathering lines, they looked familiar but he couldn’t decipher them. It was a mess of jumbled lines, interconnected and linked.

He let essence enter his blade, heating up the edge. He carefully traced out the thin lines around the center of the ritual.

He needed some time for everyone to sink into the rhythm.

Chisels and hammers rang out throughout the room, creating a din that was hard to hear over.

Silver was poured into the stone lines, the smell burning Valter’s nose.

“I gotta take a piss.” Remin said.

“Alright, I’m gonna check on the others.” Alan finished off his line as Remin walked off to talk to a guard.

Alan stepped away, checking the work around the altar.

Valter shifted his blade and started carving runes not written in chalk. His own addition. His runic book was vast and filled with a lot of information, but he’d taken time to study the most important combination. Soul Bind.

It had been the first runic in his book and one of the most refined. He quietly cut the side of his finger with his blood and ran it down the runes, a bit of essence speeding up the recovery. A smart blacksmith makes sure his weapons can never be used against him or his friends.

One thing he wasn’t sure of was why the book had detailed out using soul bound metal and blood for the runic.

He worked on the lines and runes in the area, clearing away the chalk lines, hiding it among the runic chaos.

Alan came back from checking the others work.

“Close enough,” Alan muttered to himself and kept working on the runes.

Remin came a few minutes later and pulled out his tools.

“Huh, something is different.” He frowned studying the altar.

“Yeah we got more done without you.” Dula didn’t look up.

“I’m telling you that there is something different. He did something.” He pointed at Valter.

Valter frowned at him, shaking his head and kept working.

“Look I was working right next to him, he didn’t do nothing but his job. Man you’re a pain in the ass before you’ve got a tea into you.” Dula said.

“Fuck you too.” Remin growled.

“Quit ‘yer bitchin’ and get working, we’re burning hours. We’re all tired, get it done, or you want those heretics to get a hold of your younger sister huh?” Alan glared.

Remin screwed up his face. “Fucking bastards.”

“We got this job, don’t screw it up.” Alan softened his tone bending his head, back to work, closing down the argument.