Chapter 242: Floating Wisdom (1/2)
Terok led her down a stairwell into the stone, many side halls leading to living quarters or rooms with other purposes. Some of the beings looked at her when she passed but nobody seemed to care extensively. A refreshing reception compared to most humans that immediately started whispering after her. The dwarf suddenly stopped and motioned down a hallway. The red glow of fire came from within but nothing could be heard.
“Hey, master!” Terok shouted down the hall, “This lassie here has saved a friend, thought you could offer her your services in return.” They waited but no response came, Ilea looking at the dwarf who seemed a little unsure by now.
“Why can’t we just go?”
He gestured at the ground and walls, “There are runes in place to prevent entry, curses and dark magic. He normally only works with those that can cross it unharmed.”
Ilea nodded and started walking, “Why didn’t you say that. Well I’ll see you then Terok, thanks for showing me the way.” He watched in disbelief when she simply started walking. A light feeling of nausea started spreading in her belly but it was nothing major. Neither was the health drain that started a couple meters further in. Her healing easily canceled it out. With time it would grow less effective anyway, thanks to her second stage resistance to health drain magic.
She heard Terok laugh and looked back, the dwarf shaking his head. “Well good luck then. You can use the exit we came from, if you can survive this you can definitely activate the rune.”
Ilea gave him a thumbs up as she moved further into the smithy. A couple more steps and her hearing was cut off, the sound of a hammer hitting metal resounded a couple meters further in. The room opened up, stairs leading down into the big space where a being made of dark mist hovered near an anvil. It had two arms that looked solid, the rest was more ethereal. Like the winter spirits she had faced before.
[Smith – lvl 212]
Not even Balduur has that kind of level. She thought and decided to wait until he was done with whatever he was working on. There was a plethora of machines in the room, tools and metal structures she had never seen nor any idea what purpose they served. Sitting down on a workbench a little to the side, she continued healing herself, neither curse nor health drain lessening when she had entered. The thing he, she or it was working on looked awfully small in her sphere, shaped like just the handle of a weapon. Isn’t the blade done and then the handle added?
Summoning her notebook, she wrote down the name of the poison and the monster that occupied the Root Vault. Another thing she could hunt and kill, likely in similar or higher levels as the rose knights. Overwhelming choice…, It wasn’t really. Here she would meet other hunters coming from Hallowfort, at least she assumed as much. Saving lives wasn’t the worst and she could make friends like that easily. Ilea had no idea how long it would have taken to find this smith here, likely choosing one of the lesser talented had she not met Terok. Still, she was lucky this time. It could’ve also been her finding three dead or dying adventurers, unable to save them.
And this was her adventure, not another tragedy. Hers alone with nightmares spewed out of hell’s mouth, there for her to fight and kill, dancing on the edge of death. Her thinking was interrupted when a whisper resounded in the whole room, “A new traveler, seeking the work of Goliath.” The voice echoed, the smith turning around, two golden eyes looking out of the dark mist as it held up the finished product.
“A door handle? I mean maybe I could replace some of mine… I’m Ilea by the way,” She said as he put it away.
“Work for one of my dear friends. Payment for a joke well told.” He explained and hovered a little closer, “You, no you are here for that armor are you not? Or have you lost your weapons too?” He asked, the whisper coming from several directions at once, confusing Ilea quite a bit.
“Just the armor, I don’t fight with steel.” She said and stood up, walking around the room to discern how he did the thing with his voice.
The smith hovered after her, “Niameer steel. Rare to see it these days. The elven lands of old used to favor it did they not? Before the light was no more.”
Ilea cocked her head to the side and turned around, “Why do I hear you like a surround sound system?”
A weird noise came from the smith, its eyes squinting a little and bobbing up and down, a laugh perhaps, “It is what I am, the magics of dark not one favorable for those of the living flesh. You must have felt it when you entered? The curse, my unending hunger for life and its source.”
“You meant that’s you? You didn’t put up runes to make people not come here?”
“It can get lonely, sadly most cannot stomach being close to me. Your kind… what are you then? An elf? A dwarf? No… you would not like the mana here and you are too tall for a dwarf. A dark one then but one of life?” He asked inquisitively.
“I’m human.”
Its eyes moved up a little before it spoke, “Human, what a rare visitor then. Those of weak blood find it hard to travel here, to even stand where you do is an achievement not gained without strife. I salute you.” He said and bowed a little, “The dark ones often find conversation tiring yet it leaves my forge silent, abandoned. Were it not for my work one might question why I even rose to consciousness.”
Lots of interesting things this guy says. The smith was either old and wise, a being of great power or perhaps a crazy loner spinning lies to confuse her. The elves don’t like the mana here? Dark ones? “It’s nice to meet you then, I salute your dedication to the forge. You are the first smith of such a level I have met.”
The weird sound again, “Amusing. A human so far north, a long time it has been. Truly. For this alone I shall grant your request.”
Nice, She thought and summoned the mold she had taken from Balduur. “That’s the mold, it fits me perfectly. The monsters here are a little much for Niameer steel.”
The smith hovered around the mold, lifting its eyes from time to time, “A suitable mold. It is good to know the art is not lost entirely. Niameer however is not meant to be abused so roughly. It is meant to hide sound and light. A shadow’s metal. Are you a shadow?”
Ilea thought about it and shook her head, “I fight directly, you can see that by how it looks.” Switching to a set of leather armor, she placed the pieces of her ashen hunter set on a free workbench. Not meant to be abused so roughly? And it was never damaged by any of the attacks coming from other people or their weapons? She felt a little embarrassed in front of this old being and showed it apparently.
“Do not feel offended human. It is a good metal, even moreso rare. A precious ore and it can certainly hold up to others but with time its shape will dent, its glimmer fade.” The smith explained as he lifted some of the pieces up, looking them over carefully.
Ilea summoned one of the rose knight sets, using her ash to clean off one of the tables before she dumped it there. “What about these then? The ones who fought me used that.” Adding a sword to it, just in case it was a different metal, the smith turned towards her. Grabbing the chest plate, it contemplated, turning it over and over again.
“I am uncertain. What do you intend to do with it?” It asked finally.
“Depends on how good it is. Got plenty more so do with this one what you like.” Ilea said with a grin.
Its eyes lifted and almost looked happy, “Good, I cannot determine its properties without working it. Hold on.” It said and took the breast plate, putting it on the anvil and starting to hammer. Harder with each hit before it chucked it into the biggest forge, some of the runes lighting up before the heat in the room went up by at least fifty degrees.
No wonder no humans come in here. Ilea thought, noticing the flare but her heat resistance and general condition completely ignoring the difference. It didn’t stop getting hotter, soon the straps of her leather armor started to catch on fire, the room not cooling down for a whole twenty minutes. Ilea covered herself in ash and stored her leather armor, switching back to it when it cooled down. She looked at the goop of golden liquid that remained of the chest plate.
“Stonehammer steel… it was incredibly old, brittle but as expected it held up, for a long time. For rust to form on such a sturdy material. A dungeon perhaps? I would be interested in more of this metal if you would.” The smith said in his ethereal whisper.
“Of course, half for you half for me alright? Make me as many full sets of armor with the mold as you can, how does that sound?” She grinned and watched the eyes light up when she dumped all the armors and weapons she had gotten from her escapades so far. Nine sets and an assortment of weapons equaling probably another set.