Forged Anew

[pentazel]

                Farniro pumped massive bellows. The chain belt powering them was exhaustively resilient. He had to hang on it, just to get things started. His fur glistened with sweat and soot.

                Gebis kept calling for more and more, every sentence another demand. The young feline never seemed to reach the expectation. Either that or it kept rising.

                The youthful warrior had come to this forge and its master, for the sake of Sanguis. His precious weapon had taken a mighty beating against that golem. He’d arrived with its blade chipped and pitted. The next swing might have snapped it in two. And as precious as Farniro’s tool was to him, it wasn’t something he could forge personally.

                Gebis was happy to help. The renowned artisan had supplied some of the land’s greatest swords, both magical and mundane. He’d admired Sanguis and gotten to work in short order. He’d delicately fashioned his wonders on the metal, avoiding the actual smelt of its blade. Edges were softened and brought back to shape. Enchanted oils infused the seams, making them vanish without the slightest trace.

                The smith returned to Farniro, sword gleaming in the sun. That’s when all the troubled started.

                “Amazing work, nya! It looks as good as new! How’d you do it?”

                “You should know better than to ask for such secrets, squirt.”

                Farniro laughed with awkward embarrassment and an emphatic nod. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got carried away with the sight of it. How much do I owe you?”

                “Five-hundred should do it.”

                “Wow! That’s really kind of you. I wasn’t expecting it to be so cheap.”

                “Most wouldn’t think so, but who am I to argue with such a deep purse.”

                The two shared a spell of laughter as the feline rummaged for coins. A bit it had to be the silver requested. The majority condensed with the last of his gold. He was sorry to see the last of that haul go, but it was worth it for Sanguis.

                When Farniro looked up to hand his pile over, he found a disgruntled mustache twitching in disapproval. A few blinks didn’t dispel an illusion, so the cat opened his mouth to ask what was up.

                Gebis didn’t wait for the question, asking a rhetorical one of his own instead.

                “Well aren’t you the hopeful little dreamer?”

                Farniro tried again, only to be cut off once more.

                “Five. Hundred. Gold. My work isn’t as cheap as you seem to think.”

                The feline’s mouth dropped as eyes bugged wide. You could buy out a village for that; feed an army for a month’s march.

                “Why didn’t you tell me it would be so much?!”

                “You never asked. I figured you just had deep pockets. Now I come to find out you’re a fool instead.”

                “But I can’t pay that! I’ve barely had that much to my name in my whole life. I mean, I guess I could focus on finding some hordes and taking some jobs to pay you over time,”

                Gebis interrupted with a mocking laugh.

                “I doubt you’ve got what it takes without a sword.”

                The blacksmith smiled at the swordsman’s sunken expression. Then he clarified, “I get paid or you don’t get it back. I don’t work for pittance.”

                Farniro clutched his ears and let out a long, “Nyaaaaaaaa!” of frustration.

                Gebis let the cat squirm, holding back his schadenfreuden chuckles.

                “Isn’t there something I can do for you to make good on this?”

                “Tell you what,” the blacksmith let hope build in the yellow eyes before finishing, “You work my bellows and play houseboy for a month, we’ll call it even.”

                Joyous hope erupted within Farniro and made ready to spew its exuberance in words.

                Once again, Gebis cut him off. This time it came with savage undertone.

                “Don’t go thinking you’re getting off light squirt. If you don’t last the month, then the sword is mine. No wining or asking for a second chance either.”

                The feline gulped in dreaded anticipation, having yet to see the workshop’s interior. Still; he couldn’t abandon the only chance given.

                “Okay then. It’s a deal.”

                Gebis’ hand thrust out like a glaive, making the cat jump back at first. Then the latter realized, it was meant for a binding shake.

                As one hand met the other, Farniro felt the grip and weight of a bad deal.

                The swordsman wasn’t wrong in his assumption. The room appeared more dungeon than smithery’s workshop. Hung blades reeked of savage intent. The anvil at center was huge and broad, easily mistakable for an altar. The massive furnace eclipsed one wall, chain pulleys edging like decretive columns.

                Gebis interrupted the awful exploration; with the explanation, “That forge is meant for a man on either side. I’ve been working its bellows by myself for years. So you shouldn’t have too much trouble keeping up.”

                Farniro looked back to see a swindling smile, frowning an acknowledgement of con.”

                “You giving up already? Feel free to walk out any time.”

                “I said I’d do it so I’ll do it. I’m getting Sanguis back.”

                “We’ll see. Far be it for me to frown at free labor.”

                Three weeks later, the cat’s ears drooped with exhaustion. On and on the smith bellowed for bellows. They’d only had two days of rest since starting, but even that wasn’t fully true for his laborer. Gebis filled the quiet days with chores, pushing his serf at every turn. That cruel smile became nearly omnipresent. The smith could see his victory in sight.

                Now Farniro felt the end nearing. He still had a week to go, but so long felt endlessly out of reach. Still he refused to give up. Nothing short of collapse would stop him.

                Gebis struck and tapped at a new commission. It was a mage blade that baked with red corona, even before putting it to flames.

                They, or rather Farniro; had needed to douse their coals in a syrupy red goo. His taskmaster had explained it as getting the fires hot enough. The feline had needed to stir both fuels together, straining his arms with weight and thickness. It wore him out before even starting on the chains, making the metal loops feel more like shackles.

                As the cat shoveled in the first load of drenched coals, he had to pry piles free. Thick tendrils of the goo, stretched in resistance. It layered the shovel and made it impossible to throw loads. Instead, the swordsman had to scrape it free on the open hatch.

                A hiss came from the wetted fire within a few loads. Wisps of crimson silk began to trail from the opening. It quickly thickened to a haze, which had the cat coughing inside a few minutes.

                “Work the bellows and clear that stuff out the chimney. I don’t want to start sucking it down. If you were a real man, you could do both at the same time.”

                Farniro grimaced and kept from showing his sneer. Another cough banished the worry, as he staggered over to the chains. Hands dragged him up the large links. They wanted to slip, but pride and need refused to let them. When chain loosened and the cat found his feet again, he couldn’t help but gasp with the strain. It rushed the cloud deep into lungs, starting him in a hectic fit of coughing.

                The feline scrabbled his way free of oily smoke, crawling along the floor on knees. Refuge hand him breathing deeply of the cleaner air.

                No sooner had the serf reached sanctuary, than bidden to return.

                “Back to it runt.”

                A scrap of cloth landed next to Farniro, drawing his eyes up to Gebis’. There he found the raised cheeks of a smile, hidden behind another tatter of cloth. The bastard had known and prepared himself already.

                “If you can’t manage, I’ll take this as a forfeit.”

                “Nya.” The swordsman uttered between stifled hitches. The cloth pressed loosely against his mouth. Air was still too precious for such restriction. It took about a minute, before he could fasten its ends in place.

                The feline found strength in anger, forcing a stand and tying the rag. Eyes squinted against the malicious smoke, as he hurried his way back to chains. He forced breath low and kept a steady pace. Another gasp or panting would start it all over. This was hardest in getting the bellows turning again, but that first loosening appeared to help.

                The cruel-hearted blacksmith was pounding away behind, sparks flying and at the cat. His back and hair were singed, from all the burring metal they’d already caught; meaning Farniro paid them little mind. Blackened holes peppered his sleeveless shirt.

                The world began to fade for the swordsman. It narrowed to task and strain. The sense of it dulled with every pull. His vision blurred. Time became abstract. Life emptied its meaning. The cat found distance relieving, letting him drift away from the effort. Even the chain's resistance felt lighter, far away in uninhabited lands.

                As time passed, relief turned to embrace; then to surreal optimism. At least this trial would build up his fortitude and resilience. The feline had faced hectic and strenuous training before, but nothing as taxing without the cuts and bruises to encourage. His only pain was the ache of callused fingers and palms. Even that was starting to fade. The outlook empowered him more than expected. Farniro could barely feel the effort he poured in. The bellows lightened with every tug. The weight of body vanished with his dawning paradigm. Advancing acceptance had more power than dreamed.

                A muffled voice began to encroach. The swordsman couldn't make it out at first, too lost in reflection for the external. His head shook and thoughts cleared a little, trying to pay attention to the tyrant. It took him far longer than expected, volume rising before he could clarify.

                "Hold, hold!" were the first clear words.

                Farniro ended the meditative cycle, turning to face the voice's source. He only made it half a step, before his balance ended precariously. The swordsman teetered and nearly fell over, grabbing the chain to regain equilibrium. The world returned in a rush of disorder, bringing with it a wealth of awareness.

                The first nuance to register was angle. The feline looked round and upward, finding nothing but roof. He heard Gebis shout from below and looked down in surprise. There the smith was, looking furious and finite. Farniro began to question his memory, remembering the artisan much taller. That left him scrambling for answers within, losing tack of the other's continued rants.

                Next a register of strain, tightness spread along chest and leggings. The swordsman looked down and answered sight with gasp. His shirt was tattered, ripped across his bulging chest. The crest of pectorals obscured his vision lower. Folded seems at shoulders had degraded to frayed bands. Threads and tatters of cloth, protruded outward like the spokes of a mangled bicycle.

                With attention rushing away from thought and back to body, elation stuck as a brick to head. Farniro hadn't dared to lean forward and inspect further yet, but he could feel the same decimated fabric below. Now it pressed tighter, centering efforts singularly. Arousal embraced him with all the furnace of homecoming. Cheeks heated beyond forge's power, sprouting from the rivaling sensation below. A region of cloth sundered entirely, freeing the urgency of a mammoth erection.

                The bulging shaft towered beyond recognition. Its twitching pulse screamed for attention. Farniro returned to ignoring the smith, as rippling arms reached for the prize. He pulled it close and moaned at the feel. Bending it against him brought waves of delight, the head nestling within solar plexus. Its tip graced along the underside of chest, summoning a growling shutter from its owner.

                Farniro began to stroke himself, unable to resist its call. The heated flesh throbbed in hand, eager to answer the call. Each palm moved slowly, finding their way along every lengthy surface. There was so much to explore. He couldn't fully encircle such manhood, even with both hands parallel; but damned if he wasn't going to try.

                Gebis looked on with fear and regret. He'd pushed things too far in a quest for victory. Caution took backseat to spite. Vicious provocations were no offset to risk. His cruel smile was gone. It was replaced by rage hiding dread.

                The enchanted oils had certainly worked their magic for the forge. They'd also pressed the cat to its limits. However, the artisan knew better than to write off this tragedy there. The world hadn't twisted from true, till he'd begun work on the blade.

                Sentient metal had howled in hand, yet the smith carried on. The resistance was normal enough. The tyrant equated it to shoeing a horse. Any weapon of such caliber, would try to kick and buck just the same. Gebis wore the protections needed, but had limited thought for fallout upon the serf.

                The ember blade was old and wise. It'd learned of people and their ways though various wielders. Knowing attack was meaningless against the smith, it sought refuge in the only answer left. The dynamic between both men was clear, a servant and master. So the sword had decided to tip those scales, in the most effective method it could. Seeds of enchantment had leapt with shed sparks. They'd worked their way in, layering with every blow. Nevertheless, such results were far beyond expectation.

                Gebis roared for the feline to halt. He ranted with insults and demands, trying to intimidate the mistake into submission. All of his wailing and wining fell on deaf ears. There was nothing he could do to stop this obscene act. Anger kept the smith from consideration of worse. The idea of reprisal stayed locked behind angst.

                Farniro cared nothing for murmurs barely registered. He was enthralled by the swelling enjoyment. The few remaining tatters of cloth; snapped and flew free in succession. The bulge in hands expanded ever larger. Every twitch and rush of blood pumped into the mammoth, widened and expanded beyond limit. The feline's head crested ceiling, forcing wood to creak and neck to bend.

                The newly formed Goliath attempted to sit. He could only spare one hand for the task. The other redoubled its effort toward front, unable to leave arousal unattended. The whole endeavor was lost from the start. Farniro couldn't maintain a balance of his new and ever-expanding form. Too much shifted and proportions went well past acclimation. The mere act of a crouch sent him rocking back. The bracing arm had no grasp of distance. Thus the cat landed with an earth-shaking thud, lanced several cracks along the stone flooring. That's when his tail graced upon the furnace and all hell broke loose.

                Farniro yowled as the appendage tried to broil. He shot his body upward and away, widening cracks with weight and force. He'd never wielded the power of such legs. Nor could he prepare for the might expelled. The massive cat shot up and through the roof, sundering wood with no more resistance than twigs. He was too focused on the sudden singe for realization, leaving the forge and workshop far behind. Understanding hit in unison with ground.

                Towering trees broke, flattened under muscular weight. The forest canopy dimpled as it made way for a behemoth. Farniro felt it no more than falling back. His attention and interest were still ruled by other sensations. He didn't spare time or thought over what happened, only returned hands where they were needed.

                Gebis looked up in marvel. His shop was in shambles. Forge and anvil kilted towards the creator left behind. He stood frozen and held by dismay.

                The swordsman moaned with impending release. His hands flew faster as excitement clamored. Birds and beasts all flew and ran clear. None dared encounter the monstrosity it hailed from. The feline roared as ecstasy culminated. The world went white, in far more than figurative.

                Farniro panted, exhausted by it all. He and the surrounding trees were coated, sticky with layers of thickly dripping seed. It took several minutes for the numbing of delight to fade. When it eventually did, a single thought chimed its attention.

                "I forgot Sanguis!"