The magister's guild was an oasis of light in an otherwise dim world. The purple light stone that lined the walls of the establishment chased away all but the boldest shadows.

A human male wearing wire-rimmed glasses sat behind the desk of the facility. The gray-haired man looked up from the book he was reading to observe the entry.

Clay fumbled with his paperwork to find the right papers to show the man.

With a wave of the man's hand, the golem was accepted as the man returned his focus to the literature he was examining.

Seated at the tables of the hall, numerous people occupied the guild. Each of them busy with a meal or preoccupied with some arcane text.

Clay walked amongst the tables observing the book titles as he passed; 'The Abstract Aerial', 'Conjuring Clouds', 'Enchanter's Almanac', and others.

Finding an empty table, Clay took a seat and began to sift through the assorted tomes. As he scanned through the reading material he found one that sparked his interest, 'Pyromancy: A Soul's Flame'.

The word pyromancy was new to him, but the title intrigued him. Grabbing the book, Clay opened it to the introduction.

'Congratulations, young magister! You've just begun a lifelong pursuit of one of magic's most exciting practices, pyromancy!

'Pyromancy has a storied history as one of the very first magics to be practiced. Humans, goblins, elves, eldrich, and gods alike, practically all creatures in the sixteen realms can use pyromancy.

'Due to its low barrier of entry, this art is easy to learn in the adept stages. But, be warned young witches and wizards, this art is dangerous. Pyromancy is easy to learn, but impossible to master.

'At all times pyromancy practitioners must wear protective, fire retardant, equipment. Flesh will be seared, eyelashes will be singed, and souls will be expended.

'Aside from fundamental risks to be found in playing with fire, the practice of pyromancy is fundamentally fueled by the practitioner's soul. Hence the title of our book, Pyromancy: A Soul's Flame. We want to make clear to all would-be pyromancers out there, that this art can kill you. Precaution is your number one asset. Just remember your ABCs, Always Burn Cool.

'Of course, if you truly are interested in this art, chances are you're a bit of a hot head. In which case, flame on!'

As Clay read the introduction he felt the tome he was reading gather heat in his hands. He skimmed through the pages until he found a page that caught his eye.

'Firewall.'

'In continuing with your ever-expanding repertoire of pyromancy-based skills, it should be recognized that not all pyromancy arts are based around offense. That said, a firewall is a combination of offensive and defensive skills. Practitioners who learn this art acquire a skill that can be used in both close-quarters and distanced combat. A firewall can replace the use of a shield or buckler in the creation of a defensive barrier against both projectile and melee attacks. The use of a medium is strongly advised for the conducting of this pyromancy ability. For straight magic wielders, a wand or orb may be used to great effect in the conjuring of a fiery barrier. For more combat-inclined pyromancers, the firewall can be used to augment the defensive and offensive qualities of shields and weapons. Be advised that the armament to be enhanced by this ability should not be composed of wood or leather, as such materials will become kindling for your soul fire.

'As with other pyromancy skills, one should begin this exercise by concentrating one's spirit or mana into the medium to be enhanced.'

At the mention of spirit and mana, Clay was perplexed. He'd never learned such concepts. Scanning through the tome, he found the related information.

'In the practice of pyromancy, you must employ the use of your spirit force in the materialization of your soul's flame. Spirit, or in some circles mana and ki, circulates through the chakras of the body. The point of origin for the spirit stems from the heart. And, though distinct for one's lifeblood, does flow through the network of arteries that conducts blood through the body.'

Clay thought about what was written in the tome. He didn't know if he even had a heart. The whole principle seemed to be based on a different template from that of a golem.

'Concentrate your spirit into your extremities. Feel the pulse of spirit circulating into your hands. As a tingling sensation begins to build in your fingertips you will begin to feel your spirit coalescing into a malleable form. As your spirit builds you can then transfer it into the medium that you will be enhancing.'

Clay set the tome on the table and then began to focus his mind on the tips of his fingers. He felt his fingers grow warmer as he focused and then he felt a slight tingle rise through his hands and into his fingertips.

Picking up the tome once more, Clay flipped back to the page on the firewall.

'Conjure the image in your mind of a powerful fire and channel your energy into the medium.'

As Clay continued to read, the image of the feminine form of Amri's dancing flame filled the golem's mind.

As soon as Amri's image came to his mind, the tome Clay was reading from burst into flames. Startled by the fire, Clay threw the book to the ground. As soon as the tome parted from his grip, the fire went out.

Gazing down at the tome, the golem was alarmed to see the book was undamaged. The scrawled text of the book was lit up in bright orange.

Scanning around the room, he saw many faces turned towards him. The receptionist had stood up and was shaking his head at the golem with his arms crossed in front of him.

Feeling uniquely embarrassed, Clay picked up the book and set it back on the table. Standing up he moved past the receptionist and walked out of the magister's guild.

"So, you're the golem I've heard so much about."

Clay stopped dead in his tracks. He'd barely walked a block from the magister's guild when he heard the voice.

Out of the surrounding buildings, dwarves were piling into the streets. Despite the overworld of Jaskar city belonging to the drow, the dwarves seemed fully at home. The pedestrian traffic was nowhere to be found.

"You know..." The gravelly voice continued "It didn't have to be like this."

Clay saw the man step out from the crowd. It was a large dwarf who stood a head taller than any of his fellows. With wide shoulders and a barrel chest, the dwarf carried a large sledgehammer over his shoulder.

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"When Daernog first told me about you I thought, hot damn. We got ourselves a money-making machine," the dwarf said.

Clay brandished his sword and raised his gauntleted fist.

"If you'd just come out with us, we could have put you to work in the mines. We'd get to make a profit and you would have been allowed to remain intact." The dwarf's words dripped with malice.

The tall dwarf's eyes narrowed.

"But, you killed my men. For that, I'll have your head for a paperweight."

The dwarves had formed a circle around the golem, each one wielding a large mallet. Every man had a nasty look on his face, they were ready to pounce.

"Well..." the large dwarf said expectantly. "Attack!"

As one, all the dwarves charged forward. They came at Clay with their mallets raised high above their heads.

Seeing the threat from all angles, Clay swung his blade in a wide arc at the circling dwarves.

His blade bit deep into the belly of the closest dwarf as the golem continued his arcing attack. The sword cut through two more dwarves as he continued to turn on the encroaching dwarves. Their weapons raised overhead the attackers left themselves wide open to Clay's attack.

Seeing their brothers cut open, the dwarves who'd lagged in their attack stopped their charge.

The anguished screams of the fallen dwarves filled the alley as the men desperately clutched at their gored bellies.

The attack halted, and Clay went on the offensive. Lunging forward, the golem grabbed the nearest dwarf's mallet with his gauntleted fist and ran the bearded man through with his sword.

The surrounding dwarves were not fazed long as they once more began their attack. The dwarves at the impaled man's side struck out with their weapons.

Clay deflected the blow from the left with the mallet he'd ripped from the dying dwarf's hand. But, a successful blow struck him on the right forearm. The chainmail armor cushioned the attack with a rippling clinking of the chains.

Jumping back from the attacks, Clay freed his sword from the bleeding man. Behind him, more dwarves closed the circle. His blade free from obstruction, the golem swung it in a wide arc as he turned to face the horde.

The sword bit through the empty air, as the dwarves jumped to evade.

A gap formed in the perimeter, and Clay barreled through the distracted men.

Putting some distance between himself and the pursuing dwarves, Clay once more turned to face the charging men of Hamor's gang.

"The hell are you idiots doing?" the large dwarf called angrily.

Bringing down his mallet into the skull of an approaching dwarf, Clay deflected a blow with his sword. Parrying the attack, the golem countered with a thrust into the man's throat. A gurgle of escaped air flowed from the bloody hole.

Freeing his sword from the dying man's throat, Clay parried a blow to his legs with the mallet in his gauntleted hand. The golem danced backward, gaining space from the massing dwarves.

Every time one of the half-men broke ranks to attack the mass of clay, the golem would swat aside the attacker's weapon and run the man through before regaining his distance.

"Enough of this!" the large dwarf bellowed. "Useless fools."

The failing charges of the dwarves halted as a path was opened up for the tall dwarf to walk through. Standing taller than his fellows, the dwarf was a solid mass of muscle from one shoulder to the other.

"Out of my way!" the man barked as he shoved a dwarf who was too slow to duck out of his way. The smaller dwarf tumbled into another and received a smack for his blunder.

Clay waited as the approaching mass of muscle calmly walked forward. The dwarf idly turned his sledgehammer over in his hand as he walked.

"Well, then. Looks like I'll have to take care of you myself." the dwarf said with venom.

"Crush that block of rock, Hamor!" one of the dwarves called out.

Clay stood with his weapons drawn as Hamor finally walked out from the crowd and glared at the golem.

For a moment Clay thought the man would say something more. Instead, the giant dwarf propelled his hammer in a swooping arc behind his back. Faster than seemed reasonable for the heavy weapon, Hamor swung the sledgehammer along with his body. Clay watched in alarm as the head of the weapon bore down on him.

The golem evaded a blow that would have ended him, jumping back before the assault.

Hamor's whooshing attack carried through until he once more brought his weapon out from behind him to swipe at Clay.

The golem danced back, attempting to evade the attack. But, the hammer followed his dodge. Clay barely managed to raise his sword to block the incoming blow.

A decisive snap punctured Clay's ears as the sword broke under the weight of the onslaught. The giant hammer tore through the steel blade as though it wasn't even there.

Clay's eyes followed the hammerhead as it slammed into his side. The golem felt the cracks tear through his abdomen under the attack. His mouth gasped open as the air escaped through his throat with a wheeze.

A nasty smile tore across the dwarf's face. His eyes twinkled dangerously as he pulled back his sledgehammer.

Clay staggered back, his sword hung limply in his hand.

Hamor stepped forward slowly as the golem backed up. "This is easier than I was expecting." He smirked.

The dwarf raised his hammer over his head and charged forward.

"Destroy him!" A henchman called out.

The slab of metal swung down at Clay's skull. The Golem tumbled backward as the heavy weapon bit deep into the cobbled stone of the street. Hamor's eyes shined dangerously at Clay's defenseless posture.

The golem rolled aside as the dwarf raised the hammer.

Hamor hastily swung the heavy hammer at Clay's retreating form.

In desperation, the golem recalled the flaming tome he'd read in the magister's guild. Evading the quick attacks of Hamor's looming form, Clay rolled to his feet.

Thinking desperately, Clay attempted to concentrate his spirit into his hands. Each time he began to feel the tingling sensation of his spirit gathering in his hands, he was distracted by an incoming blow.

The golem raised the mallet in his gauntleted hand and caught the incoming sledgehammer.

Hamor attempted to pull the weapon free, but Clay wove the head of his mallet around the hammer's wooden handle.

Once more, Clay concentrated his spirit into his right hand. His spirit built in his hand and Clay felt the energy transfer into the broken sword that he held.

Recalling the image of the flaming tome, the golem thought about the goddess Amri. Her figure danced across his mind as he concentrated on the tingling sensation in his hand.

Hamor frowned as he attempted to pry his weapon free of the golem's hold.

And then, the fire ignited.

The eyes of the gathered dwarves winced as the flame cut through the darkness. The shadows almost seemed to scream as they recoiled from the sudden attack.

Hamor's eyes narrowed as he was blinded by his proximity to the light.

The broken sword in Clay's hand glowed red with heat as the flames licked up from the blade.

Momentarily startled by the sudden revelation of his pyromancy, Clay marveled at the brilliance of the fire. He was reminded of the warmth of Amri's bonfire. He took solace in his soul flame.

Hamor regained his wits and, through gritted teeth, struggled to free his weapon with new vigor.

His mind drawn back to his current struggle, Clay raised his flaming sword and smoothly brought it down on the wooden handle.

Gasps escaped from the gathered dwarves as Hamor's sledgehammer head tumbled to the ground.

The tension of Hamor's struggle suddenly released as he went flying back.

While the dwarf struggled to his feet, Clay stepped forward and, wasting no time, brought his flaming weapon down on the flailing dwarf's chest. The hiss of boiling blood escaped as the red-hot blade cauterized the wound.

A desperate cry of agony escaped from Hamor's mouth as his eyes flashed open.

"No!" the dwarven men cried out in anguish for their fallen leader.

Hamor's cry fell silent as his eyes dimmed, the light escaping from his pained expression.

Clay drew his still glowing blade from the dead dwarf's body. His eyes drew up on the surrounding men.

Many among Hamor's gang looked as though they were ready to pounce on the golem. But, the men were already drawing away from the towering golem.

Clay glared at the men who idled. He wondered if they would fight to reclaim the body of their leader. None of the dwarves stepped forward. They didn't even collect their fallen, so desperate were they to escape the looming threat of death.

Gradually, his glowing sword dimmed in the darkness of Jaskar's perpetual night. The shadows once more enveloped the surroundings. As his sword cooled, the last of the gathered dwarves escaped into the shadows, abandoning their dead.

Silence fell over the dark alley as Clay observed the carnage that he had wrought.

The golem sheathed his broken blade and dropped the mallet he held.

Looking down on Hamor's fallen form, Clay thought about the bounty on the dwarf. He needed to bring proof back to the hunter's guild that he had finished the mission. The idea of removing the dwarf's head didn't appeal to the man of clay.

Bending down, Clay gripped the heavy dwarf and lifted the mass of muscle onto his stone shoulders. The dead man weighed heavily on the golem as he began his trek through Jaskar city.