“Forgiveness, honored Fisher, forgiveness. This one intended no offense.”
“Offense? No offense, but see if I risk landing in a boiling kettle with the Underlord just to help you. If a dreadbeast comes up to nibble your toes, see if I pull you out of the fire. ‘You told me not to help him,’ that’s what I’ll tell him.” In a quieter voice, she added, “...and I told you to stop with 'this one, that one.’ That is what offends me.”
Lindon gave her a shallow bow and then turned to her trunk, throwing it open. On the top level were all her most common Soulsmith’s tools save her drudge, on which she stood. The spider-construct had identified the location of the binding in the dreadbeast’s body, and it would take much of the guesswork out of building a construct, but he wouldn’t have access to a drudge until he built one himself.
The tools all had components of goldsteel or halfsilver, the gold surfaces flashing white and the silver ones embedded with stars. They weren’t made entirely from the exotic metals, but there was still enough inside the trunk to count as a fortune back in Sacred Valley. Here, where the materials were even more rare, they might qualify as a sect’s treasure. He was lucky the Fishers had allowed Gesha to take them out…although, with Eithan Arelius standing behind Lindon, they may not have had a choice.
Before selecting his tools, he ran his madra through the binding. It drew one of his cores almost dry, using it to launch a technique. A knuckle-sized bolt of golden light blasted from the binding, tore through the leaves and earth, and smacked into the tree, chipping away a piece of bark.
“Striker binding,” Gesha said immediately. “Aspects?”
“At least earth,” Lindon said. The color reminded him of earth aura, so he went with his instincts. “Maybe force? Some wind? If you could take a look with your drudge, we could know for sure.”
“Not for sure. A drudge only checks for what you tell it to check for. There is no substitute for experience. Now then, what would you do with this binding?”
A construct, essentially, was a puppet with a single technique embedded in it. The binding was the technique. Scripts could tweak the specifics, but the bulk of a construct’s abilities were determined by the power of the dead matter in its shell and the binding at its heart.
Lindon reached into his pack and slid out a book Gesha had given him only three nights before: The Combination of Spirits. It was written by hand, rather than printed by construct like most of the books from Sacred Valley, but he found the observations of ancient Soulsmith teachers fascinating. “I haven’t had time to study in depth, but I had some inspiration. You see, here it mentions a Striker construct that won’t activate until a certain amount of time passes. You could put one circle on an arrowhead—”
“Launcher,” Fisher Gesha interrupted. “You think my question did not have a correct answer, hm? It does. The correct answer is: a basic launcher construct.”
Lindon hesitated. “I’m sure that would work, but the binding serves the same basic purpose already.” A launcher construct was little more than a container with a Striker binding in it.
As far as constructs went, launchers were boring. Nothing of what they did amplified or enhanced the binding’s technique in any way. In Lindon’s opinion, you might as well just keep a Striker binding in a script-sealed box and take it out when you needed it.
Gesha reached into the pocket of her outer robe and pulled out a second book: Soulsmithing for Coppers. On its cover was a picture of a smiling tree holding hands with a friendly-looking Remnant.
“You forgot one of your new books, hm? Lucky I grabbed it before we left.”
She tossed it to him, and he forced a smile. “Thank you for correcting my careless oversight, Fisher Gesha.”
“Mm. You’ll find instructions for a launcher inside.”
Lindon peeled open the book, flipping past overly large illustrations of children putting simple constructs together. It was a grating reminder that he had first Forged madra only a few weeks before.
Technically he supposed he was at the level of these children, but he was pushing himself in every other aspect of his sacred arts. Why did he have to start from the beginning only here, as a Soulsmith?
But Gesha’s stern gaze did not relent, so he sighed and walked back over to her trunk, removing the claw of an earth-Remnant, which still twitched with life if he held it too close to the ground. It would serve as the ideal body for this weapon.
With a goldsteel scalpel, he split it open, placing the binding within.
He ran his spirit over the loose construction, letting his power drift into the dead matter. With focus and a few deep breaths, he took control of the Remnant pieces.
The claw began to shine again, like it had when it was part of a Remnant. Lindon felt when his spirit filled the dead matter and the binding equally, empowering them both.
Then he fused them together.
The claw shrunk, compressed, and reshaped itself slightly. The binding melded into the substance of the claw, sealed inside so it was all one piece.
And that was all.
Now it was a shining yellow rod tipped with claws, which would launch a blast of rock-hard energy when provided with madra. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it counted as a success nonetheless.
All the Soulsmiths in Sacred Valley had been Forgers because the process of creating a construct was similar to Forging: you take control of power and give it form. Lindon could have re-formed the dead matter to look more like a sword, or a box, or most anything else, but he hadn’t bothered. It was just a launcher.
More than Forging ability, Lindon had learned, crafting a construct required compatibility. The power of the Soulsmith soaked into the power of the construct, and some aspects of madra did not blend well. In those cases, the Soulsmithing process could result in a useless product, or a deadly mistake.
Pure madra was compatible with everything, but it was also weak. It added nothing. Fisher Gesha’s madra was attractive—as in, it literally pulled objects together—and that meant she could fuse dead matter to bindings with no trouble at all, and her madra was still compatible with most everything. There were a few powers she couldn’t re-Forge without danger, but she had a drudge to identify exactly when those were present.
Pure madra wasn’t the best for any given construct—it weakened the original power of the madra like water added to wine. But it did technically work with anything.
Lindon would take any advantage he could get.
Back in Sacred Valley, every Forger thought they knew something about Soulsmithing, because making a construct was fairly easy. But making one safe? One that performed as intended every time, and lasted for as long as possible?