Free Maledictus Aether by Sydney Alykxander Walker Page B

so.
    “ I a m a friend,” I
state, though her expression brings me to believe that she does not
quite believe my story. “We have never met, but her brother was...
well, he knew me.”
    She nods.
    “ What’s your
name, sir?” She asks, cautious. I sigh.
    “ Walters,” I
tell her. The name seems to spark another bout of recognition in
her. “Davis Walters.”
    She nods, slipping the papers
back under the desk.
    “ Follow me, sir,” she states, and begins leading me out
through a door to the back of the shop. I follow her, noticing her
glancing warily over her sho ulder at me when she believes I am not looking. I do not
call her out on it, but instead follow her to an open-spaced room
with the windows thrown open, where a steel forge is hard at work
and a woman is hammering against a sheet of red-hot steel, the
sound almost deafening in the large room. There are tools scattered
everywhere, and I pause mid-step to look around while the woman
approaches the steel smith.
    “ Elyn , a Mr Davis
Walters is here to see you,” she announces, and at the sound of the
name her hammer pauses in mid-air, just before the smith turns her
head to face the girl.
    She i s beautiful in a
fierce sort of fashion, with icy dark hazel eyes and sandy hair
spilling out from a horsetail tightened at the top of her neck. She
wears thick leather gloves and an apron of the same fabric, her
clothes beneath light yet almost skin-tight – to obviously avoid
trailing in the hot coals – and a pair of goggles over her
eyes.
    Her eyes then find mine, and
narrow.
    “ Thank you,
Gloria,” she says, throwing the steel into an acid bath. Her tone
clearly excuses the girl from the scene, almost sounding like a
silent order, and with a nod Gloria slips back out, almost glad to
have left by the looks of it.
    Elyn steps up to me and grabs
me by my shirt, pulling me forward. She has the advantage of
height, about half a head taller than I am, and the full force of
her fury is turned to me through the thickness of heat-stained
brown glass.
    “ Last I recall, Captain Walters was a lot older than you
are,” she hisses, her gloved fingers tightening on the cloth. I
wince as a part of my skin is
pinched, but do not make a sound. “If you don’t want me throwing
you into my forge to help make the next blade that comes out of
this shop, you’ll tell me who you are and why you’re
here.”
    Despite myself, I swallow
thickly.
    So this is the famous Watkins anger that has made others yield in the past –
from both myself and my predecessors.
    I must admit, it i s
not pleasant having it turned onto me for a change.
    “ My name is
Cephas Kennedy Watkins II,” I offer, and here her grip loosens, her
steely eyes widening. “My mother is Cristina Bowe and my father is
Cephas Kennedy Watkins – Captain Davis is my mentor.”
    She releases her hold, taking a
step back. I hold back the urge to rub the spot.
    “ I a m looking for
Tier,” I conclude, and the very sound of the name makes that anger
in her eyes disappear. “I was told of you, and wanted to come find
you.”
    Elyn takes a deep breath,
releasing it noisily before she pulls off her gloves, tossing them
onto a workbench. The apron follows soon after, as do the goggles,
and she gestures at me to follow her – all without a word.
    Again I follow the woman, where
she leads me through a different door than the one I came in from,
one that leads to a sitting room. This one is made of polished wood
and stone, three comfortable couches sitting in the middle with a
table stretching between them, and a cupboard holding a variety of
goods.
    She tells me to take a seat,
and walks over to the cupboard, pulling out a few items and piling
them onto a silver tray. From there, my host brings them over,
setting it down on the table and pouring us each a glass of
gin.
    “ I usually offer tea to guests,” she states, the first words she has spoken since my
declaration, “but this isn’t my usual business deal,