Chapter 15: Elkeler

While placed under arrest again, Berin tells others of the news of the war as fear spreads through the metallurgy factory.

Elkeler

Word spread quickly around the metallurgy workers that Berin was from the northern lands. Soon other workers were whispering in Berin’s ear.

“What news of the Bacana?”

“Have they reached the Sonderya Lands?”

“Will they kill us all?”

At first Berin did not respond, but it was genuine in their eyes. Their homes were distant from the war and yet there lay undisputed anxiety their lands would soon be invaded. In time, Berin responded with only what he knew. As far as he could tell, the Bacana were still in the north. Perhaps by now they had overrun the Manas Hu. He doubted they would stretch further.

“Word is they have landed on Goiim,’ said one worker. ‘They have even taken control of the Midran Passage. Very soon they will come for us.”

“That will not happen, will it?” asked Grasio that afternoon as they ate hunks of bread with dry meat.

“Maybe, maybe not. I want to say it will not. But, if you asked me last winter if the Bacana would invade my land, I would have laughed until my sides ached. Now, to see my family stripped away, to have the land taken from us, I think they are capable of anything.”

No, he saw the fear in their eyes; the same fear he faced.

Berin and Grasio were subjected to the intense heat of the furnaces melting the metal. Berin was glad his jibba had been taken away, for it would not have shielded him from the heat. Their role together was to yank a chain connected to a pulley system when the metal had turned into its liquefied state. The pulley system then turned over a massive jardinière, as the locals called it, where the metal poured into a tube. The tube wound from the top of the room near Rednikov’s office like a spiral to the floor. The metal fell into a series of metallic drums, each designed with a specific mould. Once cooled, the drums were taken to the anvil room where they were hammered until the cooled metal was released from the drums. The fashioners then lightly hammered the metal objects until they resembled the particular shape required.

In the latter part of the day, Berin and Grasio assisted in the daily arrival and storage of the unfashioned metal. It arrived from the mountains after lunch, like clockwork, carried by carts heaved by the greatest stock horses Berin had ever laid eyes upon. Their legs were built like mighty oak trees, pushing against the ground as they pulled the overweight carts along the cobbled path up to the factory storehouse. Berin’s amazement was doubled when he saw the sheer size of the men guiding them. These were more than men; they were more the size of giants. As large as an evergreen tree, their bulging limbs were so compacted Berin imagined them lifting the horses with ease, or possibly even the cargo in the cart. These were the great men from the Dag region, renowned around the tribes and lands for their mining ability. Some were sent as a labour force to the Hora mountains in the region of Hawr. But none had been sent northwards.

“Back to work, you slugs!” yelled one of the overseers of the workers, and Berin and Grasio returned to labour, lugging each metal piece (if one could call it a piece) and storing it in the confines of the factory, ready to be melted and reshaped.

On the fourth vero, Berin was carrying a metal piece, when he thought of Glavino.

What has happened to my friend? Why did he act like his mind was amiss?

He thought back to the moments they had together. The berries. The sword. The ships. The fight with the beast.

“Look out!” cried one of the workers. Berin returned his mind to reality. It was too late. The metal piece he was carrying shifted out of his grasp and landed on his foot. Awkwardly, he attempted to right himself. With no grasp on the metal, it swayed back in his direction, rolling across his ankle and landing on him.

“Grasio!” he cried as the metal crashed into his head. His whole body slammed into the dirt as the entire weight of the metal crashed onto him, covering him from head to toe.

“I am here, Berin!” came a voice from the other side of the metal.

“Get me out of here!”

“What were you doing? Trying to carry a piece like the Daggers?”

Berin did not respond. Grasio was correct. Why did he try to prove his masculinity?

“You know you do not have the strength.”

“Fine. Get this off me.”

“Well, it is wedged on your foot at one end. If we lift it that way, it will roll over your foot, crushing it.”

“I think it is already crushed.”

“Fine. The other way, it looks like your head will be crushed.”

“Roll it on my foot, then!”

“Hang on, I think we have another way.”

“Can you get a Dagger to help?”

“They have just left. Yours was the last piece.”

Berin muttered something under his breath.

“Have no fear, I think I can get it off you without rolling it. I shall need some rope.” Grasio’s voice trailed into the distance. Berin winced. His head was only slightly better than his ankle.

Soon noises from the other side of the chunk of metal could be heard.

“Grasio?”

“I am here. I have some rope. Let me wrap it around both ends of the metal.”

“Quick, the pain is unbearable.”

“I shall have you out faster than you can say your name.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

From Berin’s limited view, rope was wrapped around the metal.

“I shall tie a knot here so it does not come loose.”

“Fine.”

“And now I will throw the rope over the metal bar above.”

“Fine.” Berin could not see, but vaguely recalled a metallic beam stretching across the length of the hallway.

“And if you do the same,’ Grasio said to another man. ‘Good. And now, we pull. Pull!”

The metal rose off Berin’s body.

“Ouch!” he cried as he rolled away and into safety.

“Let it down gently. That is it. Well done, sir. What is your name?”

“Yernikov.”

“Yernikov?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for your help.”

“No trouble. Is he going to be fine?”

“I shall check.”

“I am in pain, but I am fine,” Berin beat him to the answer.

“Where does it hurt?”

“My ankle,” he said as he brushed away the blood oozing from his head.

“How about that?” Grasio asked, pointing to the red stain.

“My head is sore. The ankle is far worse.”

Yernikov came running down the tunnel with the medicine man.

“I think your ankle is not broken,” he concluded after examining the damage.

“Not broken? It feels like it.”

“No, it shall be swollen for a time. We will bandage it to keep the swelling down. You can try to walk on it in a few veros. But only then. No walking for you. Yernikov, help this man to his confines.”

The veros were impossible for Berin as he waited, lying on his makeshift bed, waiting for the pain to subside. The medicine man suggested honey, though that proved useless. It tasted lovely, though, far nicer than the honey produced in Vergara. Grasio and Yernikov took turns bringing food to him during mealtime.

“Here you are, cold soup, again. At least you have the honey to sweeten your tongue.”

“Thank you, Grasio. I appreciate it.”

“Not a trouble.”

“And thank you.”

“For?”

“Saving my life?”

“You were not in trouble of losing yours. Death was not knocking at your doorway. Anyway, you would have done the same.”

“I know not if I would. I figured you had brought us this mess, guiding us here. If you were under the metal, I might have left you there.”

Grasio looked away. His teeth set, clenched. One cheek rose slightly higher than the other. His fingers grasped around his knees. Out came a slow, controlled breath.

“You think I deliberately brought you here to be captured?”

“Not anymore. But the thought did enter my mind.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“I know. I am sorry.”

Grasio rose to leave.

“Grasio, wait. I am sorry for doubting your, your, motive for bringing us here. I know you want to help me find my son. I know you do. I was just angry. I get so tired of being incarcerated.”

“I get what you mean,” said Grasio, still facing away.

“Can you forgive me?”

“I suppose.” Grasio still faced away from Berin.

“I know you do not want to be here, I mean in the metallurgy factory. But you work so hard. Yernikov said so.”

“I suppose while I am here I do the best I can to help the situation.’ He finally turned around. ‘But, the work is beyond belief.”

True.

Grasio glanced at Berin’s injury. “I think your ankle is fine, you just do not want to work.” The grin on his face transferred across the room to Berin’s.

“How did you guess?”

Grasio laughed.

“Enjoy the soup. I have to return to work.”

“Thanks, once again.”