Chapter 32

Isaac walked through the forge, amazed at how many people had flocked here since the downing of the Bandranian warship. It seemed as if the entire city of Ur was out in force, had all come together to prepare for the coming war. With no room left in here, people even spilled out of the forge, onto the streets, filling the courtyards, the sounds of hammers striking filling the air, as more weapons and shields and armor were produced than Isaac could even keep track of. It had become a factory of war.

Sparks flew everywhere as Isaac walked through, inspecting it all, the sound of molten steel hissing in his ears as he passed the vats, passing through clouds of steam. He adjusted people’s work as he went and most importantly, he overlooked the lengths of chain being forged, now laid out on all the tables, the spikes being affixed every few feet.

After his success, they were all in a mad rush to replicate his chains and create as many new ones as they could. The citizens of Ur were now determined to lace their canals with traps, to stop the invasion, and to take out as many ships as they could. The entire Bandranian fleet would arrive soon, forcing them to finish several months’ worth of work in a few days. Rows of entire tables were devoted to assembling chains, hundreds of feet of chain-link being dragged through the doors, forged into iron spikes, and dragged out again.

Isaac was elated, still buzzing from the thrill of taking down that ship. His contraption had energized the entire city, and as he worked, he could feel his family smiling down, urging him to work harder. Since the death of his family, Isaac finally felt a reason to go on living. There were still, after all, many more Bandranians left to kill.

Isaac reached Joyce’s table, and he paused and watched. She pounded away at a sword, surrounded by her girls, all working equally hard, hammering relentlessly, as if hammering a Bandranian. Clearly, she had a vendetta to fulfill.

He was mesmerized by her. He thought back to her defiant stand against Bandrania, and his heart welled with pride. He reached over and gently touched her hand, guiding it, and she stopped and withdrew it as if she’d been touched by a snake. He felt embarrassed, having forgotten how guarded she was.

“I meant no offense,” he said, raising his palms. “I’m just adjusting your blow. You see the blade there? You must turn it just so. Otherwise it shall be dull.”

She examined it, turned it, and pounded again, sparks flying. She did not thank him or look back at him again.

Isaac, wanting to know more about her, to create a connection, did not give up. He took a seat beside her, wanting to try again.

“You do fine work,” he said. “Better than most of the boys here.”

She did not look up, but kept her eyes fixed angrily at the sword beneath her.

He did not think she would respond, but finally, she spoke:

“It’s easy when you have a cause,” she replied.

He wondered about the depths of what she had been through.

“And what is your cause?” he asked.

“To kill them all.”

Isaac understood; yet he also was taken aback by the depth of anger.

“I admire the stand you took for our people in the harbor,” he said.

“I didn’t do it for them,” she replied, her voice hard. “I did it for me.”

“Even so,” he persisted, “it was your courage that gave our city courage.”

She continued to hammer, not looking at him.

“I would have gladly died before they took me,” she replied. “It was no ploy.”

“I have no doubt,” he replied. “I can see it in your eyes.”

She still ignored him, and he was beginning to get the message that she did not like him. She stayed silent for so long that he was about to get up and leave, when suddenly she spoke again.

“I admire what you did,” she replied. “With the chain and spikes. It was a fine thing for our city.”

He smiled, his heart beating faster that she took an interest in him.

“Nothing gave me greater pleasure,” he replied.

She turned and looked at him for the first time, and she seemed to soften a bit.

“And where are you from?”

He paused, looking away, suddenly feeling a pang of homesickness, unsure how to answer.

“I’m from here now,” he said.

She studied him, seeming interested for the first time.

“And before?” she pressed.

“A small village,” he replied, unable to disguise his remorse. “I am sure you have never heard of it. And now it is no more.”

She seemed to sense something, and she asked: “And your family?”

Isaac slowly shook his head, fighting back tears, and for the first time Joyce’s expression took on a look of compassion.

“I am sorry,” she finally said.

A long, shared silence fell between them, each of them understanding.

“And you?” he asked. “Where are you from?”

“Right here.”

“Ur?” he asked, surprised.

She nodded.

“Until my father gave me away. The Bandranians took me away, and I journeyed back.”

“Journeyed?” he asked, shocked, his awe of her deepening. “If you managed to escape from the Bandranians, I suspect it was no mere journey.”

Isaac felt a growing sense of compassion for her, as he began to realize what she had been through. So many questions rushed to his mind, but he fell silent, not wanting to pry. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Well, that’s all behind us now, isn’t it?” he said.

“In some ways,” she replied, returning to her pounding.

He watched her hammering away and wondered what to say to her; after all, he felt the same tragedy which she did, and he did not know what to say to himself.

“We can’t fix the past,” he admitted, thinking. “But maybe…we can change the future.”

“I will change the future,” she replied, and he was surprised by the fierce determination in her voice. “I will kill every last one of them.”

“I don’t doubt that you will,” he replied. “But have you asked yourself, when all the killing is done, then what?”

That question had been nagging at him, too. He kept wondering to himself: after he killed them all, then what? It would never bring back his family. Would his suffering ever go away?

“Do you think it will take away your pain?” Isaac asked.

She shook her head.

“No,” she said. “But maybe, if I can change the future enough, maybe it can help the past. It won’t make it disappear. But maybe it can make it…morph to something else.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Besides, the future is all we have, isn’t it?” He paused. “Maybe it’s better to have suffered,” he added, “better to have tragedy than to never have any at all. It gives you strength, strength that you need. That’s what my father used to say.”

“Do you believe that?” she asked, setting down her hammer.

He shrugged.

“I don’t know. Tragedy sucks. But I am stronger. More than that—I am changed. I am a different person than I was. Not just older. But deeper. Deeper inside. I have become something more, something I never would have become. I can’t explain it, really.”

The door to the forge suddenly opened and in walked a tall man dressed in a foreign, elegant garb, scarlet silks draped over his shoulder despite the heat, wearing a cape with an insignia and from a country which Isaac did not recognize. He looked different from the others, with an elongated faced, flashing green eyes, a short, brown beard, a scar across his ear, and a mysterious, aristocratic countenance. He scanned the room and stopped and stared at Isaac.

Isaac had no idea who he could be. Was he another volunteer? His dress seemed too elegant.

The wooden floor creaked beneath his large boots as he crossed the room and stopped before him. He reached out and laid a surprisingly firm hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve come in search of a sword,” the man said, his voice thick with a foreign accent Isaac had never heard before.

“You wish to fight the Bandranians?” Isaac asked him.

The man nodded.

“That, I do.”

Isaac reached over, took one of his freshly forged swords off the table, and handed it to him.

The man held it up and examined it, weighing it in both hands.

“Fine work,” he said in his thick accent. But then, to Isaac’s surprise, he set it down disapprovingly.

“I need more than this.”

“More?” Isaac asked, puzzled.

“Come,” he replied. “I will show you.”

The man suddenly turned and, as quickly as he had entered, exited the forge.

Isaac watched him go, baffled, and he turned and looked at Joyce, hoping she would shed some light. But she had her head down, busy with her work. Isaac knew he had much work to do here, but the mystery of the man tugged at him, and he had to know more.

Isaac followed the man the forge, leaving it to be tended by the others. He emerged into the packed street, sunlight temporarily blinding him, and, as he spotted the man walking quickly into the crowd, he went after him.

Isaac followed him through the bustling streets, barely keeping pace. Luckily this man was a head taller than the others—otherwise, he would have lost him.

“Who are you?” Isaac called, rushing to catch up. “Where are you going?”

The man did not slow, but twisted and turned through the bustling streets until he headed toward one of the massive watchtowers that towered over Ur, facing the sea.

Isaac hurried to catch up as the man headed inside.

“Where are you going?” Isaac called out, puzzled. “I haven’t time!”

“Follow me and you shall know,” he called back, then disappeared inside.

Isaac glanced back toward the forge, debating, annoyed. Then, curiosity getting the better of him, he realized he had come all this way and wanted to know what this was about. He sensed there was something special about this man, and he needed to know more.

Isaac followed. He stepped inside the dim, cool watchtower, made entirely of stone, and as his eyes adjusted he looked up and spotted the man ascending a circular stone staircase. Isaac followed, hurrying up flight after flight, his legs burning, trying to catch up with him. The stranger was surprisingly fast for such a tall man, and it was not until he finally reached the top that Isaac, breathless, caught up with him.

Isaac emerged to a rooftop and as he looked past the man, who stood with his back to him, he was in awe of the sight. From up here he could see all of Ur, stretched out beneath him, and beyond that, the limitless horizon and ocean. A strong gale hit him, and he felt as if he were on top of the world.

He looked around, saw nothing up here but this man, and he started to wonder if this were all some sort of trick.

“What am I doing up here?” Isaac demanded, still catching his breath.

“Come here and see what I see,” the man said, his back still to him.

Isaac followed as the man walked to the edge, and as he stood beside him, laying his hands on the short stone wall, and studied the horizon, Isaac gasped. The sight made his heart plummet. There, before him, the Sea of Sorrow was filled with black. The entire Bandranian fleet filled the horizon, a line of black which stretched as far as he could see. It seemed to cover the entire world.

“A million ships strong,” the man observed flatly. “All sailing for Ur.”

He turned and faced Isaac, grim.

“And you think a few chains and spikes will stop them all?” he asked.

Isaac felt a pit in his stomach as he studied the horizon and knew the man was right. He felt helpless, as if death were coming for them all and there was nothing he could do about it.

“They will stop enough of them,” Isaac responded, unconvincingly.

“Will a few swords and shields hold back an army that has conquered the world?” the man asked.

Isaac sighed, exasperated.

“What would you have us do?” he snapped. “Fold our hands and give up?”

The man turned and fixed his flashing green eyes upon him, so intense that it gave Isaac a chill. He seemed other-worldly.

“I have not come all the way here for your steel,” the man said. “I have come for you.”

“Me?” Isaac asked, baffled. “Why?”

The man stared back at him.

“You are the last hope,” he replied. “Your destiny is written.”

Isaac was so stunned, he hardly knew what to say. Destiny?

“I think you have the wrong person,” he finally said, not understanding. “I’m just another boy from a small village. I have no destiny. I have nothing.”

The man slowly shook his head.

“You are quite wrong,” he replied. “You have far more than that—and you don’t even know it.”

The man studied him, and Isaac did not know what to think.

“You can remain here,” the man continued, “with your shields and swords and chains. You can wait and be murdered with all the others. Or you can come with me, and have a true chance to defeat Bandrania.”

“Come with you!?” Isaac asked, flabbergasted. “Where!?”

The man looked down and Isaac saw a lone ship, with a red and green sail, docked by the canals. Isaac looked back at the man, but he had already turned and walked away, heading back to the stairs.

“I don’t even know who you are!” Isaac called out after him.

But the man, disappearing into the staircase, did not even reply.

Isaac stood there, numb. He looked out at the horizon, saw the black ships creeping inevitably closer, and his life, he sensed, was about to change. There was no escaping it, whether he stayed or left. He knew that leaving, crossing the sea with a man he barely knew, would be the craziest, most illogical thing he could do.

And yet, despite all that, the man’s words rang in his head. Destiny. That was a big word, and no one had ever used it with Isaac before, not once in his life. Could it be true? Was he someone special?

Without fully knowing what he was doing, Isaac felt his feet leading him, felt himself walking, leaving the tower, heading for the staircase. He did not know what he would choose to do. But he knew that by the time he reached the bottom, the choice would be clear.

One destiny.

Or another.