In Ben-Oden's Camp
Unending arctic winds screamed down out of the northern plateau and whipped the huddled buildings of the slave camp. And from the edge of the camp all the way to the horizon there was nothingness, frozen wasteland in all directions. Inside the camp, however, the workers toiled in the intense heat and flame of row after row of glowing forges. This place was Jason's prison, and the prison of a few hundred other unlucky souls, the ones unlucky enough to be enslaved in Ben-Oden's camp.
"Has anyone ever escaped?" Jason would ask.
"Escape to where?" was always the answer. The plateau was too large and too flat. Those who ran were easily captured by the guards, a heavily armored unit that rode a fierce and giant breed of horse. No prisoner even knew where the plateau was exactly. Jason had been captured while fishing a river in the lowland forests near the Blue Mountains. The journey to the camp took months in a filthy enclosed wagon. Like the other slaves, Jason did not know where he was or how to get back home.
The reason for this camp was the lust for power. And the reason for the location was the minerals that were buried in the frozen earth of this northern plateau. Deep shafts under the forge buildings provided access to metal ores believed to hold special powers, powers due to the intense cold and pressure to which the ores had been subjected for millions of years. No one knew if this was true, but Ben-Oden believed it wholeheartedly. He believed that a sword forged with the ore from the mother-lode that led to the center of the earth would hold all the powers the earth had to offer. Mounds of unsuccessful attempts at forging the perfect blade littered the area around the forge building.
Jason's slave task was to feed coal into the forge furnace and keep the embers glowing hot for the blacksmith. Other slaves went into the mine shaft to dig and bring up the ore. Life was brutal and often short in the camp.
Sirus was the name of the blacksmith to whom Jason was assigned. The blacksmith was broken and bent, chained by the ankle to the forge for no one knew how long.
Jason often asked Sirus, "Why haven't you ever tried to escape?"
Sirus always said, "If I am to see Ben-Oden defeated, I must stay here. And I will see him defeated."
Sirus, like Ben-Oden, believed in the power of the metal ore that ran to the center of the earth. But he believed it was not just the power of the metal brought out of earth, but also the will of the forger who created the sword that would make a blade most powerful. He seemed so sure of what he spoke that Jason felt disrespectful of the man's dream when telling him he thought he was crazed in the head and no such prize was attainable.
In the soft dirt around the forge Sirus had buried a carefully chosen piece of metal. He was always careful to keep it hidden from the guards and rarely worked it in the forge--except when Ben-Oden would be coming through the building on inspection.
Whenever Sirus got word that Ben-Oden was coming, he would place the secret metal piece in the forge next to the piece he was currently working on and heat it to working temperature. Then, as Ben-Oden passed, Sirus would hurl an insult at Ben-Oden like "Ben-Oden you're looking more like a goat every day," or, " Ben-Oden do you still weep like a coward at the sight of small insects?" Ben-Oden, a man easily angered, would strike Sirus to the ground with a bone club he carried at his side. And then Ben-Oden would walk on. Sirus, in silence, would then get up off the ground, pull his secret piece of metal out of the fire and deliver one blow with his hammer. Just one blow, and then he would hide the metal piece away.
This pattern continued for months, and the months turned into years. And each time Sirus was beaten by Ben-Oden, Sirus would hammer his metal piece a little bit more until, eventually, the shape of a sword emerged.
During those years as the blade took shape, Sirus would tell Jason the story of how the rough sword would be completed. He told him who would file and polish the blade, who would build the hilt and who should inlay the handle and with what material. "All according to plan," Sirus would say.
Then, on one particularly cold day, with the sun hanging low and dull in a sky, Sirus once again got message of Ben-Oden's arrival for inspection. Like always, Sirus prepared his secret sword in the fire. He stared blindly into the flame this time, heating and turning the blade, smiling distantly with the fire glowing in his eyes, waiting for Ben-Oden's arrival. And when Ben-Oden strode by inspecting the slave's work, Sirus said, "Ben-Oden, the spirit of your mother has visited me. She told me she wishes you have never been born."
Ben-Oden struck Sirus harder than he ever had before, but this time Sirus didn't fall. As Ben-Oden watched, he turned to the forge, pulled the sword out of the flame, placed it on the anvil and struck it with one fevered blow that sent fire and spark all about and in the face of Ben-Oden. Sirus dashed the sword into the tempering barrel and as steam billowed to the ceiling Sirus turned to Jason and said "My work is done. A sword forged with the pain inflected by one brother on another must be the most powerful of all." Then Sirus handed Jason the sword and dropped to the ground dead.
Jason looked at Ben-Oden. "That's right," Ben-Oden said, "Sirus was my brother. We both had the same vision once, about what it meant to forge the perfect blade, but we grew apart. Now give it to me." He pointed to the rough weapon Jason held in his hands.
The guards stepped forward. Jason flinched backward and held the blade up in a two handed motion like the way you would hold a shovel. The guards stopped their advance and stared. "It's him," one said. "His face. It's in the blade." The guards backed to the wall with horrored looks on their faces. Fury flamed in Ben-Oden's face as he stared at the blade. No one would advance on Jason. The guards gave way as the slave passed by, still holding the sword out like a shovel.
Jason stole a horse and rode out into the arctic wasteland. He disappeared into the grayness. He searches now for those in Sirus's instructions, those who can complete the blade and make it most powerful. Jason never saw the face in the blade that terrified the guards. But the look of fury in Ben-Oden when he saw the face in the blade told Jason exactly who it was. Sirus had won victory over his brother and set the Sword of Sirus free.
