Chapter 5. Sword

Mark pulled the sword out of the forge and noticed right away that the color was just right to work on. He made sure that the color was the same at every part before setting it on his anvil to hammer it.

The first strokes of his hammer gave off crisp metallic dings that instantly drew him in. Between the sound of his hammer and the heat of the forge, Mark soon lost himself in the process. He put every fiber of his being into each strike, willing the blade to become something greater than the materials he was working with.

Mark had no thoughts as he worked on his blade. He only felt what needed to be done, and he allowed his instinct to guide each placement of the hammer strike. Eventually, the strikes would give off a white glow with each ding of the blade. Each strike would fill his eyes with visions of battlefields filled with death and destruction. Cries of the battlefield filled his ears as the strike of his hammer produced more and more white bursts of light.

Mark snapped out of it as his last hammer strike made a weird sound as if the sword itself was telling him that was enough for the night. He looked at his progress and smiled to himself as the shape of the sword was as he had envisioned for it.

He did not even think about how he didn't need to heat the sword the entire time he was working on it. He didn't even realize how long he had been working on it. Not that it mattered, nights in the mountains would last up to 18 hours this time of year.

'It looks like the color is finally starting to change to a light red color. This grey ore I found really might be special after all. I can start adding some green or purple next time I get to work on it.'

Mark had been experimenting with the green and purple metals and how they should be mixed to get the best result. His spear is the latest success in making a metal that is perfect for weapons.

He also had high hopes for the blue ore. It seemed to be capable of absorbing kinetic energy and utilizing it to vibrate. The resulting blade would more easily cut objects but it would also cause the metal to quickly heat up which is a problem with a pure blue blade or even when it was mixed with iron or aluminum. The final end result was always a piece of scrap that had to be re-refined and Mark did not have enough time to only work with the blue hue metal.

He had high hopes for the orange glowing ore though. He had not found a good temperature to refine it yet and he was planning to dedicate some resources and manpower to getting a hot enough flame the next time he had time to try to refine it. If it took so much heat, then maybe he could get a working metal that could match the blue ore.

He mulled over the possibilities as he put his unfinished weapon away and cleaned up the smithy. Once he was satisfied, he headed to his house which was just down the path he had gone to place his hides. 

He stopped at the low wall again to look out over the valley. The moon was now in a position to illuminate even more of the surrounding vegetation while giving an otherworldly glow to the river that ran down the center of it.

Mark just stared at it for a few minutes. There was not longing in his eyes, only contentment.

'I really love this. Just getting to work on the forge and my projects all day and going to bed after this view. Really, nothing could be better than this.'

After taking in a few deep breaths of the sweet mountain air with his favorite view, Mark walked the rest of the way home with thoughts of his side projects.

His home was a small structure built on top of the exposed bedrock. There were four rooms in it including the living areas but unlike the village houses, this one had many areas that were supported by iron. It would normally be very expensive to use iron for this type of structure in a house but for the blacksmiths, it's just some extra work in the mountains and at the refinery.

Mark knew that his father would be too drunk to hear him come in and get ready for bed and he had not seen his brothers for a while so he was not careful with his noise as he started getting ready for the night.

He burned some lamps for extra light and got some water from their faucet. It was not normal to have running water in their village, but one of their ancestors had figured out how to do it as long as they kept the tank on their roof filled with water. Again, their flagrant use of iron in this mechanism is not something the other villagers could afford even if they were to know about it.

He just needed to wash up some out back where the bedrock started to slope so the water would run off toward the side of the mountain. Their house was not as close to the edge of the village but they did sometimes work on stuff at their home so they made sure it was still further out than most of the other houses.

Mark washed off the soot from his face and arms and then the sweat from the rest of his body and headed back home. All that was left to do was get into something comfortable and climb into his soft bed.

His bed was made of some very soft beast fur he had gotten from a bipedal monster in the mountains. The Yeti's, as they were called, were normally quite peaceful with the mountain people but this one was harboring some of the shiny stones that Mark liked to work on so it had to die. The soft fur ended up being a bonus that now aided him in his nightly sleep.

The last thoughts Mark had as he drifted off to sleep were of his projects and finally of his hammer hitting metal. Soft pings filled his ears as he fully fell asleep.