Rise of the Living Forge

Before Arwin could even respond to Wallace, Lillia’s expression went flat. Her lips thinned and the light in the smithy dimmed as shadows gathered around her and rose up the walls. Out of the corner of his eyes, Arwin spotted Reya and Rodrick through the door in the main room of the smithy as their hands shot to their weapons.

“I’d reword that statement, because it sounded an awful lot like a threat,” Lillia said, her voice as cold as ice. “And I’m not much of a fan of anyone that threatens the people I care about.”

“No point mincing words, lass,” Wallace replied with a shrug. He tapped his hammer on his shoulder and shook his head. “I got a duty to my people. We keep our teachings under wraps for a reason. Can’t have a madman running around and making dwarven weaponry — even if it’s just a poor replica of it. Too many people can get hurt.”

“He’s not a madman,” Lilia said.

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, do you?” Wallace asked. He glanced over his shoulder at the heart, then let out a grunt. “And I’m not so sure about that. You tellin’ me anything but a madman would make an abomination like this?”

“What’s so weird about it?” Arwin protested. He wasn’t nearly as offended at Wallace’s concern about this abilities as he was with the insinuation that he and Lillia had made something that revulsive. “It was a perfectly logical idea. Are you saying you’d waste a magic heart that beat on its own? Anyone in their right mind would try to use it as an engine if they could.”

“It was a still-beating heart! Outside of a body!” Wallace exclaimed. “Do you even know what this is?”

“No,” Arwin admitted. “But you clearly do. Care to enlighten me?”

“A dungeon heart is a part of a monster that was severely corrupted by magical energy after they died. The heart continues to absorb magical power, the desires of the monster imprinted on it keeping it alive but has no way to actually advance or accomplish anything on its own. They’re functionally immensely powerful magical amplifiers. Dungeon hearts are generally attached to or consumed by depraved fools willing to bond themselves with monsters to gain great strength. I’ve never heard of one getting attached to a blasted building.”

“Ah,” Arwin said. “You know what? That makes a bit of sense. But why was my smithy’s main goal finding a grumpy dwarf?”

“Forget your building’s goals! You’ve got a dungeon heart in it powerful enough to open a portal,” Wallace exclaimed. “Why would you try to use something like thatfor anything? You should have crushed it! What man looks at a thing like that and doesn’t realize it’s clearly of vile origin?”

“Now you’re just generalizing things. An object is only as evil as the purpose you use it for.” Arwin crossed his arms in front of his chest. “A sword can kill and protect alike. Claiming something is inherently evil isn’t true. I’d be more agreeable with you if the Mesh had said the heart loved slaughtering children or some shit, but it’s just a heart. I had no way to know more, and unless you’ve got proof that it’s somehow evil, I’m not going to assume it’s anything but that.” “This is how I know you’re a whelp,” Wallace said with a shake of his head. “That attitude is one of a na?ve child that has not borne true agony. There are things in this world that are pure evil. I don’t need the Mesh tellin’ me what to think.”

“Like what?” Arwin challenged. “Give me one example of something that’s pure evil that hasn’t actually done an evil act that you can verify in any way. How do you know for certain?”

Wallace let out a sharp breath and hoisted his hammer, pointing it over his shoulder. Its head rippled with energy as it started to heat, turning from gray to a molten yellow-orange. Then he jerked his chin in Lillia’s direction.

“What about the vermin race the lass is pretending to be a part of?” Wallace asked. “I’ve seen what some of them do to their foes. I’ve been in a few of the battles against their kind myself. The world would be better off without their vile taint. You’d know what I was talking about if you were on those fields yourself.”

Arwin’s back tensed, but he didn’t let any of his true thoughts show on his face. Lillia’s hands tightened at her sides, but she said nothing.

If only Wallace had the slightest clue about what he was talking about. He might have been in a few of the battles, but I was there for every single one of them for the last dozen or so years. He might know a lot about smithing, but he doesn’t know any more about the truth of the war than anyone else does.

Arwin didn’t hold it against the dwarf. The Adventurer’s Guild had convinced the entire kingdom that they were at war with an evil, heartless race. Nobody had ever had the opportunity to learn more.

Nobody other than Blake.

His expression tightened at the thought and he blew out a short breath. If Blake had figured it out, then the rest of them just weren’t trying enough. It was a mistake he’d made once. He wouldn’t make it again — and he wouldn’t let the people around him make it either. Even if Wallace wasn’t completely out of line in his thoughts, he wasn’t going to sit around and let him insult Lillia to her face.

“If you want to test me, then test me,” Arwin said. “I think you’d be surprised to find how little people actually know. Half of what we believe to be fact is just reinforced assumptions. Power is what you make of it.”

“That’s what everyone wants to believe,” Wallace said. The head of his hammer grew brighter as power rolled off it in waves. A whump shook the smithy’s walls as an arc of flame leapt off its head and splashed across the cobblestone ground.

The flame spread in a straight line, crackling as it rose up to form a rectangular doorway. Fire filled in the details within it, the swirls of molten light changing to form into solid shapes before fading away and revealing the inside of the obsidian smithy.

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“Hold on,” Lillia said. She took a step forward. “Why do you have to go back over there? You’re just testing his smithing abilities, aren’t you? You can do that here.”

“I don’t see any lava here,” Wallace replied. “Can’t test a dwarven smith without lava. Not possible.”

“How are we supposed to be able to trust you?” Reya asked, stepping through the door with her hand still on the hilt of Wyrmhunger. “You could just be trying to isolate Arwin.”

“Me?” Wallace let out a burst of laughter. “Do I look like a robber or a murderer to you? I’m a smith.”

“Yeah, as if I haven’t seen what a smith can do in a fight,” Reya said drolly. “And you were tossing lava around just a little while ago. Making yourself sound weak just because it’s convenient isn’t going to convince anyone.”

Wallace pursed his thick lips and the glow from the head of his hammer faded. He let it lower and studied Reya in silence for a second. “Right enough. You aren’t getting more from me, though. I can’t test the big oaf outside of my workshop. It’s not possible.”

“I was under the impression you’d be more interested in testing his personality than his actual smithing skills,” Lillia said, crossing her arms. “After all that talk about good and evil, does it really matter how good he is at making weapons if he ends up using them for the wrong reason?”

“The quality of a dwarf shows in his work,” Wallace replied. “It’ll be quite apparent what kind of man he is when I see what he can make in a proper forge.”

“And if you decide you aren’t a fan of him? Who are you to judge if someone is good or evil?” Lillia pressed. “Because if you think we’re going to let you just waltz off with him and do whatever you want, you’re sorely mistaken. I don’t care if you’re a dwarven smith or a horned rabbit. You’re no more judge than you are executioner.”

“Damn it, woman. I’ll just bring him back here if I don’t like him,” Wallace exclaimed, throwing his hands up and nearly launching his hammer through the ceiling in the process. “Did you all miss the part where I’d teach him proper smithing if he’s not an evil bastard?”

“Actually, I was quite looking forward to that bit,” Arwin hedged, but Lillia cut him off with a sharp look.

“I don’t care what you might teach him,” she said, striding forward to loom over Wallace. She bent down, then thrust her finger into his armored chest. “I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not,” the dwarf replied with a firm shake of his head. “You’re not one of our kind, and you aren’t a smith neither. This is a sacred ritual, not a spectator debacle. I—”

“You let me come, or the only way you ever taste my drinks again is when I shove a bottle up your ass.”

Wallace hesitated. A second passed. Then another. Lillia’s eyes bored into him like twin blades. Finally, he coughed into his fist. “Perhaps an exception can be made.”

“Great. I’m coming too,” Reya said.

“Me as well,” Rodrick added, poking his head through the door.

Olive and Anna both squeezed through the entrance of the smithy at the exact same time and added their own voices into the mix.

“I did not invite the lot of you,” Wallace snapped. He pointed his hammer at them. “Off with you, rats. One spectator is already breaking tradition. I will not be allowing four more.”

“Five, actually. I would rip my own heart free of its cage if I allowed Lillian and her consort to wander off with a creature such as yourself.” A new voice cut through the air, words prim and proper.

Everyone turned to the entrance of the smithy to find Madiv standing by the open door, his arms crossed before his chest and eyebrow arched.

“Seriously?” Wallace asked. “How many of you are there? Do you just grow from the floor boards like moss?”

“Please let me in,” Madiv said, his tone considerably lower.

“You can come inside,” Olive said.

Madiv stepped inside and gave Olive a short nod before turning his attention back to the dwarf.

“We will not allow you to leave with our guild leader. What’s the difference between one spectator and a few more?”

“You and I have very different definitions of few,” Wallace replied. He squinted up at Arwin. “Do you have any more? Or is this the lot of them?”

Before Arwin could answer, yet another person skidded up to the door. They were all already conveniently looking in the right direction as Esmarelda braced her arm on the side of the doorframe and leaned against it, breathing heavily to catch her breath.

“I heard a commotion and Madiv went running. What’s going on?” Esmerelda rasped.

“Another one!” Wallace exclaimed. “How? Where are you all coming from?”

Esmerelda’s eyes snapped over to the dwarf. They widened and she hurriedly straightened up, brushing her clothes off and clearing her throat as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

“A dwarf!”

“An old bag,” Wallace replied.

“That I may be, but I’m an old bag with wares,” Esmerelda said, a wry smile splitting her features. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of your kind, but I vividly recall you have quite a taste for liquor. I happen to have some old dwarven mead. Sealed. Not touched in nearly a century. Perhaps I could—”

“Tempting, but I must pass. I have a duty to attend to,” Wallace said. He glanced at Lillia out of the corners of his eyes. “And I believe my tastes may have been permanently spoiled.”

Esmerelda gaped at him. She looked from the dwarf to Madiv, then back to the dwarf. Then she rubbed her eyes.

Lillia nodded to the portal. “There’s a bottle with your name on it if you just teach Arwin and skip all the other crap.”

“That would be a bribe,” Wallace said, his eyes narrowing. “Do you think my honor so weak?”

“Two bottles.”

Wallace hesitated for an instant. Then he swore under his breath and coughed into his fist. “Let’s just get this over already. You’ve ruined the weight of the process, you know that? The sanctity of the ritual is destroyed. It is meant to be revered, not mocked.”

“Does that mean we can all come?” Reya asked hopefully. “If it’s dead, it can’t hurt to beat the corpse.”

“No.” Wallace leveled a glare at her. Then he stepped through the portal and sent an expectant look back at Arwin and Lillia. “You two. That’s it. Nobody else.”

“Can you even come?” Arwin asked with a frown. “I mean, leaving your tavern—”

“As long as it’s not for too long, I’ll be fine,” Lillia said.

The rest of the Menagerie looked prepared to argue, but Arwin lifted a hand. She’d made her decision, and having all of them pile in after him would just leave their street undefended.

“It’s fine,” Arwin said, giving them a smile. “Don’t think so poorly of me. I’d like to think I won’t have any trouble passing. Wallace isn’t going to have a reason to fight, so there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

All the wind left everyone’s sails in a fell swoop.

“Fine,” Reya muttered. “But you better come back, okay?”

“Do you really think he could keep us from coming back to you guys?” Arwin asked with a smile, ruffling Reya’s hair, much to her annoyance. “We’ll be back soon enough.

“I’m right here, you know,” Wallace said.

“You’re the cause of the problem,” Lillia said, crossing her arms. “You don’t get to complain. Not if you want to dine at my inn again.”

“You can’t keep using that as a threat.”

“Watch me.”

Wallace raised a finger. Then he lowered it and pursed his lips, muttering a curse under his breath. Arwin sent an amused glance at Lillia, then gave the rest of the Menagerie a curt nod.

“Keep things safe for us while we’re gone, would you?” Arwin asked. “We’ll be back before dinner.”

And, with that, he and Lillia followed Wallace into the portal.

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