Free The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) by Brian C. Hager Page B

as it slides over the steel.
    “Despite this, or perhaps because of it, Vaulka be the finest made swords in the world. To protect their value, the dwarven and elven peoples decreed that each pair of smiths can only forge two such weapons. The dwarven smith who forged your sword is called Oren, and his elven partner is known as Leaf. They worked on this sword for six months, and their skill and pride show in ev’ry inch of it. This is the last Vaulka they will be allowed to forge, ’n I believe ’tis the better of the two.
    “The black portion of the blade is dwarven steel; the pale white is elven. The designs on the hilt are a special gift to you. The dwarven woodsmith who carved the bone portion is named Homlin, and his elf partner for the ivory is Amoril.”
    Thorne laid a thick finger on the tip of the blade. “Your sword is unique, ev’n for a Vaulka. The back edge has ne’er been sharpened before on any curved Vaulka. Leaf had the idea of sharpenin’ the back side, and Oren decided how much of it to sharpen. They liked the result, and I think you’ll agree it adds a kind of attitude t’ the weapon. Oddly ’nough, they had to sharpen it only up the edge, opposite to the normal Vaulka technique, though you seem to have figured that out, too.”
     
    * * *
    Vaun knew the dwarf expected some kind of response to his last statement but couldn’t think of what to say. The truth would only make him sound insane.
    Shrugging, Thorne handed the sword back to his young companion. Vaun Tarsus laid the magnificent weapon on his lap, lightly running his fingertips up and down the blade as if he could feel all the effort and skill that went into its creation. That strange noise sprang up again in his mind, yet this time it didn’t frighten him. That, in itself, should have terrified him.
     
    * * *
    “And how do you feel about yourself tonight?” Vaun heard Drath ask awhile later from behind him.
    The youth didn’t turn but only shrugged. “I’m not sure. I keep wondering why Thorne thought it was so strange that I could sharpen my own sword. It seemed to me like I just knew. I’ve always been fond of curved swords, so they were the only kind I studied how to take care of. I could tell this one was different, and something told me to go down the blade instead of up.” The youth didn’t say that the something had been the sword. Drath would surely think him crazy if he said that.
    Drath sat beside his young friend. In the distance, an owl hooted as it searched for food, and the chirp of hundreds of insects accompanied the bird’s hunt.
    “I’m glad for once you’re not dwelling on how dumb you are.” Drath chuckled good-naturedly but said nothing else as he gazed at the starry night sky, listening to the warm crackle of the fire and the soft snores of their sleeping companions.
    “It’s like I told you last night, Vaun. You’re very intelligent. You know things about swords because you’ve read about them, and because you like them so much. You have a feel for them, like Rush has a feel for a lock, or Thorne for a jug of ale. Maybe that’s why you knew how to sharpen the Vaulka. I don’t know. All I can tell you is that you are who you are. Accept it. Don’t fight yourself, Vaun Tarsus. It will forever be a losing battle.”
    Vaun nodded as a cool night breeze blew his hair back from his face. The smells of earth and grass permeated the air, with a mild scent of burning wood underneath. He took his eyes off the night-darkened horizon to look down at his hands caressing the scabbarded sword resting on his crossed knees. He couldn’t see the calluses that were growing larger by the day, the ones he’d always hoped so fervently to earn. He just hadn’t known it would be at the expense of his peace of mind.
    He felt strangely close to the sword and couldn’t figure out why. Perhaps it was because his new friends had given it to him, or perhaps it was because he seemed to know what it needed.
    Over the