The Bonding Chronicles Ch. 20

"Here you go, Master. Triple shot venti mocha frappuccino with salted caramel and two pumps of vanilla, just like you asked for."

The moment Alexi heard the young man's voice the true memories from Karen's place faded, replaced by the expertly crafted scene that Oren had forged a moment before. It was one-hundred percent true, but edited to fit the narrative that Alexi and Karen had staged. There was a small part of him that knew there was more, and understood how to gain access to the real memories, but it was buried in the farthest and darkest reaches of his mind.

Oren took the large and overly complicated drink with a smile, declaring, "Understated and elegant, just like me."

Wilcox rolled his eyes as he stepped aside, glad to have helped his friend and master.

With a pat on Wilcox's arm from Oren, the old man said, "He's all yours Wilcox. Try not to break him."

"I'd never, sir."

Oren laughed and rolled his eyes, gripping Wilcox on the shoulder and squeezing as he said, "I know, my boy... One of these days I'm gonna teach you how to take a joke."

"I'm sure you will, master."

The sound of Oren's chuckles vanished the moment the door closed, and Wilcox took the old man's place.

"So, where should we begin?"

***** Action and Reaction *****

Everything about Dale's shop looked different illuminated by the eerie moonlight that filtered in through the leaves above. "Night is a time for transformation," Andrew thought as he pulled to a stop in front of the single story business.

Sweat clung to him as he exited his parents' SUV, the moisture and accompanying aches reminding him of the sparring session he had just finished with Mr Spencer. Andrew was surprised how the teacher continued to push him further than he expected, teaching him skills he knew would come in handy. Grappling, it seemed, was a difficult art to master, and was less about strength than it was about properly applied pressure. Something the fit instructor had learned from experiences that Andrew hoped he would never have to face.

Stretching out his aching back, and surveying the dark and empty building, Andrew again considered how the friendly seeming shop had been transformed by the descending darkness. The streetlight that rested a dozen yards away barely illuminated the front of Dale's shop, and seemed to make no difference in the spooky sense of isolation that Andrew felt as he looked at the secure building.

His shoulder popped as he stretched it, revisiting him with pain and reminding him of the torturous positions his teacher had put him in. The building was locked, Andrew could sense it as he reached out with his mind and studied the door. The deadbolt was in place, and everything had been shut down. Everything except for the camera's, that is, which were feeding into an old security tape deck at the back of the shop.

Andrew walked with careful movements around the building, his sore joints reminding him of everything he had learned, and distracting him from his paranoia. For some reason, Andrew's eyes scanned from dark place, to dark place, finding plentiful shadowy corners hidden among the broken down cars and discarded appliances. He kept expecting something to jump out from one of those dark recesses, some mysterious monstrosity with a focus for death and defilement.

His attention was drawn to the clanging sounds of someone working metal, the obvious noise of a smith plying their trade. Dale had left the side gate open, and the pealing sounds of hammer strikes made it easy for Andrew to find his way to the older man's improvised smithy.

"You look like hell, boy," Dale announced as Andrew approached the large building, open bay doors revealing the inside of what had once been a multi-car garage.

"For once the product matches the packaging," Andrew began, spotting a chair a couple of steps away and plopping down as he finished with, "I'll be alright, just need a moment."

"You got yourself about fifteen minutes, then I oughta be 'bout done shaping this steel."

The old man was holding a pair of tongs, a bright orange piece of metal resting on what Andrew thought was a small looking anvil. For some reason he had expected it to be larger, but as he studied it he realized it was probably about the same size as the ones he had seen on TV.

Dale had not held back when he committed himself to his hobby. There was a propane forge, power hammer, belt sanders, drills, presses, and on and on. The only things he seemed to lack were the amazing assortments of materials that the shows on TV had provided their contestants. Andrew guessed that the broken down and abandoned vehicles that lay in the field around the garage provided Dale with everything he needed.

The older man really seemed to love what he was doing, and worked the hammer with a precise and almost melodic cadence. It was mesmerizing, and the more that Andrew watched the more he felt himself falling into the pattern of it.

He could almost feel the metal cooling as it rested on the cold steel of the anvil, each strike of the hammer sapping more of its heat but reshaping the metal how Dale wanted it.

It was like a dance, and Dale was the conductor that created the music which gave focus to all movement. A few hits with the hammer, flip or shift the steel, a few more hits, adjust again, hit again. The bright color would start to fade, and the reshaping of the steel would become almost impossible to notice, so Dale would return the metal to the forge, bringing it back to temp.

Dale had lied, it took him almost thirty minutes to shape the blade he was working on, and Andrew recognized it for what it was. A kitchen knife, reminiscent of a butcher's knife but much smaller and thinner.

A chill ran down Andrew's neck as Dale dunked the red-hot blade into a vat of oil, the searing sound announcing the conclusion of the older man's work. After a few seconds, Dale pulled the once glowing steel to reveal an almost black strip of metal that would become a beautiful and useful addition to anyone's kitchen.

"So, before you go and get that big head of yours all wrapped around some fancy project, I got a few things I need you to do for me."

Andrew still ached, but watching Dale had given him the time he needed to regroup himself, and heal enough that he would be able to work. The older man had placed his cooling metal on a side table while Andrew made his way over, and by the time to two men came face-to-face, he was toweling the sweat from his brow.

"You see this here?"

Dale held out a coat hook that had been made from a rustic piece of black metal. It had a flattened top with two holes, where it could be secured to a wall, and as basic as it was, Andrew could tell that it would require a lot of work to make. Handing over the roughly shaped metal device, Dale reached over to a side table and brought over a jagged piece of scrap-metal.

After handing over the cold chunk of steel, the tired looking man walked over to a nearby chair and said, "I'm gonna sit here, and you're gonna' put on that apron I was wearing. I'll step you through making a few of those hooks."

Taking his seat, the weathered man lifted a bottle of water to his lips and drank deeply, giving Andrew a chance to put on the apron and familiarize himself with the tools.

It all felt so strange to the young man as he moved between machines, lifting the hammer and carrying the tongs. They were much heavier than he anticipated, but for some reason didn't feel strange in his grip. Quite the contrary, he clenched and released his fingers, allowing both implements to shift and slide in his hands, testing their movement and finding that everything felt oddly naturally.

The heat from the forge was intense, but brought a smile to Andrew's face as he listened to the roar of the flames that seemed to beg for him to place the steel into its depths.

"Alright, first things first," Dale began, exhaustion dripping from his words as sweat fell from his chin.

Over the course of an hour, Dale lead Andrew through the processes necessary to craft a simple hook. By the end, Andrew had found a rhythm of his own, the hammer falling with a steady and regular cadence. There was a small pile of broken metal off to one side from the numerous times he had overheated or overworked the steel. Dale sat back in his chair and watched as the small man applied everything he had been told.

They were simple tasks, and had done exactly what Dale expected; helped Andrew to learn how to place the metal in the forge, and when to pull it. He shook his head as Andrew flipped the steel, applying a few more hits of his hammer before returning the metal to the forge.

"You should work it longer, boy!"

Andrew looked over at Dale, admiring the look of admonition that was clearly written into the older man's face.

"If I work it now, it won't move nearly as easily, and..." Andrew paused to look into the forge, "well the metal likes it when I work it hot, if that makes any sense."

It had taken Dale months to get that sense of agency from the material he used, that feeling that the steel wanted to be tempered, or that it was tired of being hammered on. He had always found that those instincts were right, but knew that Andrew had not been at the forge long enough to have learned the lessons necessary to gain those insights.

"Yer just wastin' time and my gas by puttin' it back in so early. You could get a good minute more work into that steel, ya fool."

Andrew had been shifting the clamps around in the forge the entire time they were talking, and withdrew the metal which had returned to a perfect light orange that begged for Andrew to work it.

While he responded, Andrew returned to the anvil and spoke between hammer blows, "It took me about a third the time to heat this back up as it would if I'd worked it for another minute. But look..." he stopped talking long enough for Dale to watch him shaping the small piece of metal. "It's taking shape much faster now than it did before. I've already accomplished as much in ten seconds as I would in that entire minute you'd wanted me to work it."

The older man was standing with his arms crossed and a look of frustration on his face.

"I figure that with the way I'm doing this, I'll get it done about twenty-five percent faster than if I worked the metal cold. Though, the main reason I like doing it this way, is that it saves me so much effort since I'm able to get the metal into shape with about half the hammer blows."

Dale guffawed, his breath escaping in a huff as he un-crossed his arms. "If ya ain't gonna listen to my advice, or learn from my experience, why're you here?"

Andrew wished he hadn't anticipated that reaction, but he had known it was coming before his mentor had even spoken.

He continued to shape the metal as he responded, "There's still so much to learn and get better at. You've only begun to teach me about... what was it that you were talking about earlier? Forge scale, cold shuts, inclusions and... well a lot."

He walked back over to the forge, inserting the steel and twisting and shifting it as he studied the older mans face. It was strange, Andrew felt like he knew how the metal was reacting to the heat within the forge, sensing hot spots in the metal, and cold spots in the forge, trying to find that perfect place so that the metal would heat up evenly and in exactly the way he needed it to.

Most of Dale's face was twisted with annoyance, but there was a glimmer of recognition within those creases that crawled from the corners of his eyes.

"Like you said, I could be wrong, but after all those failures," Andrew stated as he pointed his chin towards the small pile of ruined steel. "I've managed to learn a few things, and tracking timings is something I'm really good at."

Andrew could tell that the metal was ready to come out of the forge, a warm flutter of emotion telling him it was time to give the hammer something to do. At that same moment, across the room, his phone chimed.

Sara's text was short, "It's time for family outing."

"Are you sure we should do this?" Andrew texted back, glad for the encrypted chat application he had installed on all their devices.

Returning to the anvil, Andrew sighed and placed the red steel on its top. Part of him begged to continue shaping the metal, yearning to learn more from what he had been doing, but he knew he had to leave.

"Dale, there's a crazy amount I can learn from you, and we both know that. But, as we move forward there are going to be things I can teach you as well."

He placed the hammer on a table that was off to his side, and handed the tongs across to the grumpy looking man, who was staring at him with squinted eyes.

"I'll be back tomorrow to start working on your web-server. It's tragically behind on updates and I'm amazed it hasn't been hacked already."

To Dale's credit, he held his frustration in check, confusion mixing in with his emotions and visiting Andrew in thick waves. Andrew felt the man's troubled feelings, and was reminded just how quickly his life was changing.

"I'm not sure this deal is gonna work," Dale stated as he took the tongs with a quick and forceful grip.

"That's a decision only you can make, Dale. Either way, I'll be back tomorrow to get that server patched. It'd be great if I could get some more time in here as well, but..." Andrew shrugged with a smile, and continued, "Just try it my way, and see if you agree with me. If not, I'd love to try it your way and be proven wrong."

Crossing the room and grabbing his bottle of water, Andrew made a point of looking at his phone. He released a huff of his own, and then declared, "Unfortunately, I gotta get going. Family emergency."

The moment Andrew stepped away from the forge, the last hour of exertion came down on him like a freight train of exhaustion. Exiting the large building, his shoulders slumped and he went cold as the night air cut into his damp and quivering body.

Dale was still studying him from the warm and well lit interior of the vehicle bay, the roar of the forge calling out to Andrew and sounding like the perfect music for the older man's annoyed thoughts.

While Andrew walked, Sara's response came in, "We talked about this. Yes, we should. Don't be a pussy. He says get here ASAP. SD, he's pretty pissed."

As Andrew approached his parents' SUV, he was forced to admit that perhaps he had scheduled a few too many things. His body hurt from the beating he had taken from Mr Spencer, and his arms and hands ached from the last hour of swinging that hammer. All of that did nothing to help as his mind struggled with the consequences of what they were about to do. Could they really risk exposing themselves like they had discussed? Perhaps there was wisdom in keeping gifts like theirs a secret.

With more uncertainty than Andrew cared to admit, he texted back, "I'm sorry, kitten. Thanks for the kick in my exhausted ass. I'm on my way."

Through their bond he could feel Sara's elation as she read his response, the thought of his return lightening her darkened mood.

"This is gonna suck," Andrew mumbled as he started the car, the night seeming somehow more oppressive than he remembered.

***** An Unexpected Source *****

"Darkness closes us in, threatening to steal our light from the mortal realm, and still you keep your secrets?"

The All Father crossed the last remaining steps to The Mother Superior, pulling her bronzed and perfect body against him. They were silhouetted against the bright blue sky and pristine white clouds as they stood at the threshold of their lofty perch. A large room filled with tapestries and pools, beds and divans draped in blankets and adorned with pillows scattered throughout lay open behind them, their eyes cast out over the mountainous clouds that spread out before them.

With eyes of pure and unblemished blue, The Mother Superior saw not the floating ocean that The All Father gazed upon, but scanned a distant land far from the world they inhabited. To her mind, space was a fluid thing, and she swam its vaste shores like few others.

"I beg your pardon, dear wife, but find myself pleading for specificity. My secrets are many, as you well know."

There was warmth in his words that drew her back to him, whites of her eyes filling in around the amazing azure blue hue he adored.

"Your only lie is one of omission," she stated as she turned and allowed herself to settle against him, resting her face on his hardened chest.

"Why could you not tell me what he is? And, why has his arrival not terrified you, as it has me?"

His embrace tightened as he squeezed her against him, his body attempting to provide comfort where he knew none would be found.

"Why should it? Marilen's gifts were unheard of in her time, their effects still felt in the mortal realm today."

Pulling back, the fearsome woman seemed to grow in stature as her gaze hardened.

"She may have been before my time, but every story reads the same; of a wizard so strong she shaped the fabric of the world into devices never before dreamt of. Artifacts so powerful that even the gods feared them."

Her appearance darkened all the more as The All Father leaned back and bellowed his laughter with a thunderous roar. She could feel his joy in her chest as she was forced to listen to his long and pronounced guffaw.

"Ohh please. The woman I knew was talented and kind, beautiful and witty as the sun is bright, but nothing about her caused fear in me or any of my brothers or sisters."

It had been the first time The All Father had made mention of the others of his kind in centuries. And as the thoughts of them came to the front of his mind, she could feel him pull away, only for the thoughts to vanish as he forced himself back into the moment.

Before he could continue, The Mother Superior interjected, "I know those orbs you make for The Council were designed by her, so don't try and confess some modesty for a woman who has long since died. You may be a fantastic crafter of mystical devices, but she was a visionary in every way."

The All Father's eyes twinkled as he looked upon his bride with love. "You're a very smart woman."

His statement was punctuated by a passionate and heartfelt kiss, his adoration for her felt in every tender moment of their union. After longer than The Mother Superior had intended, she pulled back with a gasp, her heart fluttering with needs that caused moisture to drip from her womanly folds, her sweet and floral scent filling the air as she struggled for breath.

"You will not ensorcel me with your sexual magic, you sly and devilish man. I had a point..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to recenter herself, The All Father's turgid member pressing against her midsection and scattering her thoughts, delaying the inevitable as she finally took hold of what she had wanted to say.

"She was a regular wizard, and had such a huge impact. This boy is a Magus, and seems to not be held to the same rules as their kind. If the stories of her are to be believed, and his powers tower above hers as all magai from any discipline do, then he might be capable of things we may never understand."

The All Father studied her with a curious gaze, his hips shifting slightly as their libidos fought to gain control.

"Don't feign ignorance, it's an unflattering color on you. Magai are bound to the realm of their discipline, and you know that. When Andrew bound himself to the Therian, we assumed his powers would be from one of the schools of the Fey, but then he went and bound himself to the healer... and then we had no idea what his gifts would be, but took comfort in knowing that while he had a chaotic nature, he would at least have a true and caring heart."

His movements were getting more intense, and The Mother Superior was beginning to feel her own control slipping as he licked his lips and ground himself against her. She could tell he had been listening, so continued her speculative train of thought before she lost herself to his teasing rhythm.