The not-immortal Blacksmith

The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 7 - The Fey

Fairies Suck.

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I was two weeks early for the Fairy festival. People from all over the kingdoms were already present, including some demon spawn from the conquered territories (now called "The Free Peoples Republic of Demonia", I apparently missed something while on vacation). I made my way to the venerable "Iron Rat Inn", and secured a room.

After a few days, I realized that I had misunderstood the festival, It was not to welcome the Fey, It was to kill them when they appeared! I unpacked my wagon near the festival grounds, and started hawking my wares. Business was good.

As the opening drew nearer, I counted no less than a dozen individual, or teams, of chosen ones, and hundreds of adventurers. Strange things are certainly afoot. Some came by to purchase my wares or offer me greetings, while others just stood in the background with mixed looks of shock, awe, or terror on their faces.

The circle itself, I should note, is only about forty feet wide, while the square it is in the center of, is about 100 yards wide and deep. A beautiful place of statues and trees. They apparently rotate the statues in and out of the field, as there are hundreds of them on the sides, some are even decorated.

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One day not long after opening up shop, a young chosen one walked up to the counter and asked, "Are the rumors true?"

"What rumors?"

"That you are the 'Immortal Blacksmith, Heretic to many, savior to some, and friend of Bjorn?" He asked.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of that shite, but I do count Bjorn as a friend."

"Okay, good. I am wondering- - -"

"I'm not going to join you on some fool of a gods quest. If that is all, I have better things to do."

"NO! No that's not it at all!" The kid said, dropping a palm sized rectangle of metal and glass on my counter. "I need someone to make a power source for this."

Intrigued, I picked up the strange device. It had two small "buttons" on the left side, one on the right side, and a small round button near the bottom on the front. I have never seen anything like it.

"What is this device? It's not magic, I can tell that. And yet I can feel it's need for spark."

"Back home we call it a 'cell phone', and use it to talk to people all across the world." The young lad said.

"Ah, so a technological version of the new message stones."

"Similar, but I could also send pictures and text, not just the spoken word." He said. "I'm Jon, by the way."

"I'm Max. You have brought me an interesting puzzle. Come on over to this side of the counter and tell me exactly what you need"

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The ins and outs of cellphones are truly astounding. Once I got a "charging station" made so that it could eat all the spark it needed, Jon told me of his journey. How he was, in his words "kidnapped" from his home of Rio, while walking down the street, to being told he was special by a god wearing a silver mask; I broke in at this point and told him that that was "Belaroze, god of something or other"; and told to "Make your way in this world, and become someone to be proud of." Then dumping him off on the eastern side of Deeplefallsia. To say Jon was not pleased is an understatement.

We parted ways a few days later.

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Three days until the circle opens. I won't be on the front lines, but I will be observing from the back.

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The circle opened at noon. A blaze of multicolored light shone from the circle, then an ominous yellow portal hung in the air. As the fey came pouring out, I was surprised at the variety. Snakes with multi-hued wings, pixies of every color imaginable, Elves (Not your standard elf, no, these were huge, and beautiful, and frightening), ancient Dwarves from your nightmares, just to name a few. They surged through, fast as lightning, crashing into the front lines! Some of the Fey fled into the air, only to get picked off by the rear guard of archers; others fled by magical means, disappearing in a cloud of dust or smoke. Then the Archfey came.

The Archfey stood about 8' tall, all willowy and sleek. They cast spells without incantations, waived their hands and clusters of fighters turned to stone or trees. They were beautiful. They were terrible. A flock pixies choose that point to dive upon those of us in the rear. I managed to get my old shield up in time to keep them off of me, but my neighbors weren't so lucky. They were ripped to shreds in mere moments.

I had had enough. I waved my left hand and sent a gout of flame into the pixie swarm, killing some, and burning the wings off of most of the rest. With my right hand I grabbed my boom stick from the small of my back. I checked to make sure that all was in order with it, then stepped forward.

I aimed at the closest Archfey, took a breath, and slowly exhaled while squeezing the trigger. Just like Tristan had taught me. The gun went 'Boom'. The Archfey's head went went 'splat', and fell apart, the Silver and Iron round doing it's job.

Then the rest of the Archfey looked at me. Truth be told, their stares were frightening. I could feel them trying to claw at my mind. But, as I have faced down gods so many times, it wasn't that bad. I kid. It was worse. As my sight started to swim, I heard music. Loud music. Heavy music. Music filled with words I could barely understand. English words. The beat was fast, the lutes electrifying, the drums...just wow. The words. The words buoyed my spirit, and put Iron in my spine.

My eyes cleared, and I looked for the source.

Jon.

Jon had his "phone" plugged into some sort of device, and the device was making the music come forth! As I watched, gun in hand, and mouth agape, the chosen ones became emboldened. They screamed and charged the Fey. Some forgot their weapons in their hands and bit at the enemy. Some chopped, and others punched.

I regained myself and started forward. I emptied my boom stick, killing three more and wounding another two. Tristan would be so proud. After holstering the boom stick, I called my third best sword to my hand and laid into the fey. I did not get the decisive blow, but I would like to think I made my mark.

Battle over, it took less than an hour, and I was exhausted. The music was done. And those of us left alive just stared at the slaughter. Some slumped where they stood, others fell to the blood loss from unfelt wounds. I, as well as most, just sat down were we were. There were the occasional giggles from the ones who had been broken during combat, thankfully they were few and far between.

When I took an accounting of myself, I realized the reason for the strange looks I was getting. I had no less than 17 arrows in me that had yet to fall out. My armor, such as it was, was barely holding together. And my poor shield was done for. That, and the lack of obvious scars on my body.

*-*-*

Cleanup took a week. Burying the dead took even longer. Dividing the spoils took longer than that. Petty fights and feuds would occasionally break out, but at last the deeds were done. No one begrudged me my kills.

If I am still alive in a thousand years, I will be back. This time with a plan.

Fuck the Fey.

TTFN