Chapter 49: The Armorer's Workshop
"So you came to me."
Hephaestus's voice was a low rumble, like stone grinding deep within a mountain. She was seated in her bronze mobility chair just outside the grand, smoke-stained entrance to her divine forge-complex on Lemnos. She wasn't working. She was… waiting. Her crimson eyes, glowing like banked coals, tracked Cyd's approach, taking in his slightly sheepish posture.
"And you brought a little shadow," she added, her gaze flicking to Medusa, who was doing an impressive impression of part of Cyd's own cloak.
"Well, I was hoping for… advice," Cyd said, rubbing the back of his neck. He'd arrived on the volcanic island expecting to have to search, to plead for an audience. Finding the reclusive forge-goddess waiting at the gates, soaking up the ashy sunlight, was unnerving. She'd known he was coming.
"For advice, you go to Athena. She loves dispensing it." Hephaestus gestured dismissively with a hand that was a masterwork of articulated bronze and divine flesh. Then she patted the arm of her chair. "But advice is all she gives. Along with trials. Other men would kill for her attention. You… you just endure it."
"Your trial was plenty to be getting on with, my lady," Cyd said with a wry smile. He stepped behind her chair and began pushing it gently through the massive, arching doorway into the heart of the mountain. The air grew instantly hotter, thick with the smells of molten metal, ozone, and volcanic sulfur.
Medusa paused at the threshold. Her twilight eyes scanned the interior. Automatons—beautiful, intricately crafted female figures of bronze and gold—moved with silent, eerie grace, carrying glowing ingots or polishing half-finished marvels. They had no life, no soul, yet their mimicry of it was so perfect it sent a chill down her spine. The sheer craftsmanship was humbling.
"Little one, come in." Hephaestus called over her shoulder without looking back. She rapped her knuckles on the chamber doorframe. "My house has different rules."
"Thank you," Medusa murmured, drawing her cloak tighter and gliding to Cyd's side.
"I don't give advice. I forge." Hephaestus stated as they entered the main forge chamber, a cavernous space dominated by a river of magma that flowed through a channel in the floor, providing both light and terrifying heat. "So I give weapons."
"But I don't have any materials," Cyd said, patting his empty belt pouch reflexively.
"Don't need 'em." Hephaestus waved a hand. "A little while ago, a particularly annoying winged nuisance dropped off a very large, very dead 'package' for you. Said it was your property." She rubbed her temple with a soot-stained finger. "Made for some interesting raw materials, though."
"Please tell me it's not a giant sword," Cyd said, a note of pleading in his voice. It wasn't that he couldn't use one; Chiron had taught him the basics of every weapon. But they were cumbersome. And losing a divine artifact because you tripped over a root seemed like a uniquely embarrassing way to anger a goddess.
"Too crude for you. And you think too small." Hephaestus snorted. She raised her hand towards the bubbling magma channel and made a sharp, beckoning gesture.
The molten rock heaved. A sleek, dark shape shot from its depths, trailing liquid fire. It arrowed straight towards Hephaestus.
Cyd moved without thinking. He stepped in front of the goddess's chair, his body interposing itself between her and the projectile. He caught the object—it was heavy, warm, and surprisingly compact—just as a spray of superheated magma splashed across his right arm and chest. The clinging globules ignited, sheathing his arm in roaring flame for a few seconds before guttering out, leaving his skin unmarred but steaming.
"You didn't have to do that," Hephaestus said, her voice oddly flat. She stared at the back of his tunic, where a few smoldering holes now were.
"Reflex," Cyd mumbled, turning the object over in his hands. It was a… gauntlet? But not like any he'd seen. It was made of interlocking scales, black as obsidian and edged in faint bronze. It felt alive. Curious, he tossed it lightly into the air and thrust his right hand into it as it fell.
The reaction was instantaneous. The scales flowed like liquid mercury, slithering up his arm from wrist to bicep, locking into place with a series of soft, definitive clicks. The fit was perfect, as if molded to his very musculature. From the pauldron, a cascade of linked, cloak-like scales draped down over his shoulder and back, flexible and light.
"A vambrace. Forged from the dragon's hide and nervous tissue, alloyed with celestial ore." Hephaestus rapped her knuckles on the arm of her chair. "The neural filaments are keyed to your thoughts."
Cyd flexed his fingers inside the gauntlet. "I don't really need more armor, I— Whoa!"
As he moved his wrist, the black scales rippled in unison. A deep, shadowy light began to pulse in the seams between them. The light coalesced, thickened, and extruded from the gauntlet, forming a massive, semi-translucent claw of solidified darkness around his hand and forearm. It was the phantom limb of the dragon, given form by will and divine craftsmanship.
"The nerves synchronize with your intent. The weapon is an extension of your own body now. Think 'sword,' it becomes an edge. Think 'shield,' it becomes a wall." Hephaestus reached out and tugged on the scaly mantle on his shoulder. "Its full capabilities… you'll have to discover those yourself. It learns as you do."
"This is incredible!" Cyd whispered, his eyes wide with childlike wonder. He willed the claw to retract, and it dissolved back into the gauntlet. He willed it forward, and a sharp, curved blade of darkness sprang from his knuckles. "Are there… more? What did you make with the rest?"
He was already imagining a full suit, or a spear from a fang, or—
"Gone." Hephaestus flicked a bit of imaginary ash from her fingernail.
Cyd's excited expression froze. "Gone?"
"It was starting to smell. And it was enormous. I tossed the remainder into the magma flow. Purified it." She nodded towards the bubbling river. "You're welcome to dive in and look for scraps. Though I doubt you'll find anything usable."
Cyd felt a pang of profound loss. An entire dragon's worth of legendary materials… incinerated. But then he looked at the masterpiece sheathing his arm. He had no right to complain. Without her, he'd have nothing but a story and some trophies.
"Teeth would have been nice," he sighed, half to himself.
"If you want dragon teeth, I can give you a bushel of them," Hephaestus said, sounding genuinely puzzled. "They're not that rare up here."
"It's not that. It just feels… wasteful," Cyd admitted, running a hand through his hair.
"Hmph. That's…" Hephaestus began, then stopped. Her burning eyes narrowed, focusing on a glimpse of white at Cyd's throat, now visible since his tunic was singed open. Her expression shifted from casual to intensely serious, a look he'd never seen on her before. "What is that around your neck?"
"This?" Cyd touched the necklace of Nemean Lion teeth. "A gift. From a… friend. She said it was a charm for victory."
"A 'charm.'" Hephaestus's voice was flat. She shifted in her chair, crossing her right leg over her left with a soft whir of gears. She folded her arms. "It's parlor tricks. Minor probability manipulation through enchantment. Child's play. If you want a tool that guarantees victory, I could forge you a dozen before sunset."
"It was a kind gesture," Cyd said, tucking the necklace back under his tunic. He couldn't shake the feeling that Hephaestus had taken an instant, intense dislike to the object.
"Kindness… is it?" Hephaestus's tone was heavy with meaning. "You read Ancient Thessalian script? Lycian glyphs?"
"Not a word," Cyd admitted.
"That explains it." Hephaestus let out a short, frustrated breath. "You didn't even look at the carvings on the teeth, did you?"
"I thought they were decorative patterns." Cyd frowned, turning to Medusa. "They're just squiggles. Right?"
"Il… illiterate," Medusa said softly, looking at her feet.
"Relax, Lady Hephaestus," Cyd said, waving a dismissive hand. "With Apollo's blessing, any curse she could have put on it is useless. I even tested one of her 'playful' potions. Sunlight burned it right out of my system."
"A curse? Perhaps." Hephaestus leaned forward, her intense gaze pinning him. "But remember, Cyd. To mortals, we seem omnipotent. But we have limits. Blind spots. Apollo's sun can purge a poison, break a hex. But some things… some intentions… aren't so easily dissolved. They don't attack the body. They weave themselves into the story."
She tapped her own thigh, the sound metallic. "You'll have to figure this one out on your own."
"You can't just tell me?" Cyd groaned.
Hephaestus merely leaned back, a faint, enigmatic smile touching her lips. She shook her head.
After another hour of Cyd's futile wheedling, he gave up. With heartfelt thanks for the vambrace and a promise to not lose it in a river, he and Medusa took their leave, setting out once more with the compass as their guide.
Hephaestus watched them go from the mouth of her forge, the volcanic winds tugging at her hair. When they were specks on the horizon, she closed her eyes.
"[To my hero, I offer a love that burns]," she murmured, translating the delicate, hidden script she'd seen etched into each lion's tooth. A possessive, passionate, dangerously clever love spell from a princess who didn't know the meaning of half-measures.
She shook her head, a mixture of pity and something sharper—something that felt suspiciously like jealousy—stirring in her chest.
"He's not yours, little witch," she whispered to the empty air. "Not yet."
---
A day's travel later, as they camped under an olive tree, Medusa pointed a slender finger at Cyd's right hand. The black scales of the vambrace were barely visible under his sleeve.
"Those markings," she said, her voice thoughtful. "On the back of your hand. The small ones."
Cyd pulled back his sleeve. Sure enough, along the central ridge of the gauntlet, almost too fine to see, was a line of delicate, spidery script etched into the divine metal.
"They look… similar to the ones on the necklace," Medusa observed. "But the ending is different."