ruby eye.
“I feel like it knows me,” he murmured, turning it this way and that. “It feels… like an old, old friend.”
I was still a little shaken from watching him touch it so cavalierly. Tascius had been burned, and he had angel blood in him. “I know I ask you for a lot, Wayland. But this last time, can you make a new Sword of Light from these pieces?”
He carefully laid the piece back in the bag like he was laying a baby to rest, reverent and paternal.
I gasped when one of his numerous other hands shot out and grabbed my sword-arm. He pulled me closer, almost yanking me off my feet, and examined my hand so closely I felt his breath against my skin.
Finally, he laid his palm against mine. Several long minutes passed, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake in asking Wayland for help, but he released me, turning his back on me so quickly I thought I’d somehow managed to offend him.
“I can make it new,” he said gruffly. “It won’t be quite the same, but a beauty like this shouldn’t be left in pieces. Beautiful.” He patted the bag lovingly, cradling it to his chest now.
“What’s your asking price?” I stepped forward, determined to make the bargain now. If I had to travel across half the continent to fetch body parts again, I’d find myself a new smith.
But I knew that was a lie. Wayland was the only smith I’d ever trust again after what’d he done for us.
He turned around at the entrance to his forge, peering back at me. “I don’t want payment for this. I want to see it whole again and put to the purpose it was meant for- yes, precious?”
For a wild second I thought he was talking to me. But he lifted the bag of shards to his ear, his mouth pursed like he was listening intently.
He was utterly batshit, but if he could remake the Sword, I’d take him, batshit and all.
“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “No payment. Wouldn’t be right. This is meant to be part of the world, and if its light has gone out, we’ve got an imbalance to fix.”
Not for the first time, I wondered if Wayland really was a demon.
But what else could he possibly be?
“If you say so,” I said doubtfully. If he came back later asking for my firstborn child, there was going to be Hell to pay.
He was cuddling the bag again. “I say so.”
“You’re absolutely sure?”
Wayland’s head jerked up and he gave me a foul look. “Will you quit with the questions and get?”
I raised my hands in defeat, already backing towards the tunnel. “Thank you, Wayland. You’re a gem.”
He snorted, but he looked pleased as he pushed the canvas door of his hut aside and slithered in, dragging his centipede-like body behind him. I heard him grumbling even after the canvas fell shut again, and finally turned my feet towards the exit.
Before I plunged back into the whispering darkness, I sent up a little prayer of thanks. Not a big one- after all, God was dead, and who knew what else might be listening- but a fervent one regardless.
For once, things were sliding into place. All I had to do was have the fortitude to outlast the bad times and keep going, even when things seemed like the light had completely gone out.
This time, going through the tunnel was easier. I tuned out the voices of the lost who whispered to me from the unseen corners, the soft pleas for help, the rough whispers promising violence I’d only experienced once from Lucifer’s hands.
When I reached the end and found myself back under the crimson sky of Dis, I was only shaking a little.
The tunnel had saved the worst for last. When it realized I was getting better at tuning it out, it discovered I had a weakness.
It wasn’t the sound of Lucifer threatening me, because I knew that Lucifer in his right mind without the soul-bond would never hurt me, or the sound of Vyra’s strangled pleas.
It was the sound of a baby crying in the dark. The sound that a baby would make if it’d been abandoned and knew it was going to die alone.
I let one awful shiver trail down my spine. I would never, ever allow that to happen to Sarai. Not in a million years; not even after my dying breath. I’d claw my way back from the grave for a second