Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [88]
"I've still got some more preparations of my own to make," Fendel told him. "I thought I'd left this kind of thing behind when I joined the House of Hands, so it's taking me longer to get my things together."
As the wrinkled little man again disappeared through the door leading to his private storeroom, Corin heard him mutter, "Now, where are those spell components? I was sure I had some sulfur around here somewhere."
***
The twin blades twirled and danced in intricate patterns, the swish of their strikes crisp and true as they carved the air around Corin. The warrior swung the weapons with the controlled fury of the legendary berserkers of the Cold Lands. The speed and savagery of his blows sent ripples of wind wafting across the sheen of sweat that coated his bare torso.
Two hours ago he had struggled to manage the alien attachment tied to his amputated stump. Now he wielded a pair of swords with the artistry of a master, both his arms-one of warm flesh, the other of cold metal-acting in perfect unison.
It had taken Corin almost an hour just to achieve a level of basic proficiency with his new limb. Since that time his skill had progressed in phenomenal leaps and bounds. Further evidence of Fendel's talent as both an inventor and a spellcaster. In one short evening the gnome's creation had allowed Corin's ability as a warrior to far surpass the level it had taken him years to achieve on his own. The fury of the dual weapons magnified his assaults exponentially, making him a match for any warrior on the Dragon Coast-possibly even the mighty orog Graal.
Corin was so intent on his exercises that he hadn't even heard Fendel return. He reacted to the unexpected sound of the gnome's greeting behind him by spinning around and dropping into a defensive fighting crouch, the right sword poised to launch a quick thrust, the left ready to deflect an incoming blade. He relaxed when he realized it was only his host.
"I see you've gotten the hang of your new arm," Fendel said, a hint of pride in his voice as he laughed at his own bad pun. "And I see you found yourself another weapon, too."
"I noticed it on one of the benches. I didn't think you'd mind."
"Of course not, of course not. I used to carry that blade by my side whenever I went out on a job," the gnome said wistfully. "It's got some minor magic forged into its design. It glows whenever an enemy's nearby."
Corin flipped the sword in the air and caught it by the blade, offering the hilt to Fendel. "I was just practicing. You can have it back."
The gnome shook his head. "No, it's probably better if you keep it. ItH be far more useful in your hand than in my clumsy grasp. I'm not much good with a blade, to be honest."
A curt nod of acknowledgment was Corin's only reply. This was not the time for gushing speeches of thanks or rambling monologues of gratitude, though Fendel deserved both in great measure-for the sword, for the arm, for everything. Words could come later; right now only actions mattered. Corin was hungry for battle. His warrior's mind was focused solely on the task at hand: rescuing Lhasha at any cost and mercilessly hewing down any who would stand in his way.
Tve got a few things together already," the gnome explained, seeming to completely understand Corin's understated reaction. "Come into the back, and IH show you."
They passed through the rear door of the large workroom and into the small, cluttered storeroom built onto the back of Fendel's workshop home. Corin wasn't surprised to see a small workbench in the center of the room, covered with a variety of items.
"I think Fve got everything we might need," the gnome said by way of explanation. "Just a few last minute items to load up, and we're off."
Gods, Corin thought, surveying the array of equipment and items covering nearly every square inch of the table, we'll need an army to carry everything! But he knew Fendel was full of surprises, so