Page 101 of Crown of Olympus
He demonstrated on his own piece, and we watched as the rough outline of a sword took shape.
Frowning, I attempted to replicate the method and immediately discovered it was a much harder task than Archimedes made it look. He came over to my workstation, sighing deeply before stepping up behind me.
“Take note, Sparks,” he said to Caelus, earning a scowl that promised violence.
Archimedes proceeded to wrap his fingers around my own,guiding my hand. Together, we hammered the steel block into an elongated rectangle, tapered at one end.
My chest tightened uncomfortably. I rubbed at my sternum with my free hand, though unfortunately, all I accomplished was drawing the attention of the two males in my immediate vicinity to my breasts.
Two pairs of eyes looked straight down my half-unbuttoned shirt, appreciating my mediocre cleavage, before darting away sheepishly.
I scowled, wrenching my hand from Archimedes’ and resumed hammering the steel as he’d shown me. I lost myself in the steadyting, ting, tingof the hammer as it made the shape of a sword appear upon my anvil.
“That’s good, Nyssa. Now you’ll have to hammer the tang into shape,” Archimedes instructed.
“What’s a tang?”
He smiled kindly. “It’s the part of the blade hidden within the hilt, forming its base and ensuring a sturdy weapon.” He gestured to his own sword, where a rough outline of a blade met a narrower outline where the handle would be.
“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” I paused. “Archimedes, why are you helping me?”
“Please, call me Arch. It’s less of a mouthful than something else.”
A scoff escaped me, my brows lifting in unexpected amusement.
“Because I’m not without a soul — as you suspect. I know why you punched Leander — and it was well deserved. What he did to those mortal soldiers…” Arch’s joviality had disappeared entirely, replaced by a stark solemnity. The mutilation of those men would haunt me as long as I lived, and it appeared the same would be true for Hephaestus’ son.
“I played no part in that,” he spat. “But an ally in these trialswouldn’t hurt, would it? I suspect they’re about to get even harder.”
We shared a grimace. I had no doubt he was right. I was dreading Ares’ trial. I was a well-trained fighter, but only the Furies knew what the god of war had up his sleeve.
I extended a pale hand.
“To temporary allies.”
The god laughed and grasped mine in return, his overly large fingers dwarfing mine once more.
“What next?” I asked, pulling it back.
“This is where we imbue our powers into the blade.”
I straightened, listening intently. This was the most important part, the part Hephaestus had warned us about.
“And how exactly do we do that?” Caelus ventured.
“Touch the steel. See how it’s hot, but not enough to burn your skin?”
We both nodded.
“Good. Grasp the blade firmly right above its hilt. Reach inwards to wherever your power stems from. For me, it’s my hands, so I don’t have to stretch it far.”
We watched as Arch placed his palm on his half-forged sword. I didn’t know exactly what power the god possessed, but I watched it flow out — a pale golden colour travelling to the tip of his weapon. Once the blade was iridescent, he removed his hand and plunged the metal back into the forge.
“Now you try.”
I exchanged a nervous glance with Caelus. We both placed our palms on the warm steel. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the source of my power. It came from somewhere deep within, entangled within my soul.
Slowly, I coaxed the shadows out of my body and into the weapon, feeling the strain of resistance. It was almost as if they were aware that this was a permanent cleaving, and they didn’t like it at all.
