Pheston charged towards the Forge Guardian as Friedrich, Teleri, Bjorn, and Alf scattered to the edges of the room so as not to interrupt the battle that was about to unfold.
The Forge Guardian let out a roar, casting a wave of flames at the old smith who burst through them and extended his hammer as he swung, striking the spirit of the forge in the chest and flinging coal across the chamber. The Forge Guardian retaliated by headbutting the old man square in the forehead, leaving both a burn and black residue.
Pheston stumbled backwards and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. A thrilling grin spread across his face. “I will enjoy this greatly,” he said and charged towards the coal golem, swinging his hammer with such force that the rush of air could be felt by his four companions.
The Forge Guardian met the strike with its hand, blocking it, but losing its fingers which crumbled to the ground. With a roar, the scattered coal returned to it, rebuilding its fingers and repairing its broken chest. It mustered up its might and pulled Vigr from Pheston’s grasp before tossing it aside.
“A powerful weapon,” it said, “that much is true. But muscles, metal, and magic will not be enough to overcome me.”
“I disagree,” said Pheston before diving out of the way of the lunging Forge Guardian.
He ran for his hammer, but the golem was unwilling to make things easy. A torrent of flame billowed from its mouth and Pheston threw himself aside with the licking flames singing the back of his tunic. He gritted his teeth and glanced to Vigr, knowing that he needed an adequate distraction if he wanted to reclaim his weapon. Should he try the old heart attack trick so many of his elders had played on him as a child? No, that was unbecoming of a trial such as this. He would rely on his martial prowess and prove his strength.
The old man charged at his foe, lowering himself and tackling the burning coal being who was surprised by the boldness of his foe. The Forge Guardian fell backwards and Pheston held back a yelp as he was scorched by intense heat. He rolled away from the golem and forced himself to his feet with a clear path to Vigr as the Forge Guardian ascended.
Pheston leapt upon his hammer and wrapped his fingers around the shaft. He extended his weapon to its maximum length as the Forge Guardian strode towards him, drawing back an arm. Pheston swung Vigr and the golem’s burly black fist met metal. The coal broke apart and the rest of the Forge Guardian’s arm reverberated as the powerful being tried to hold itself together. Pheston drew back his hammer and shoved it into the golem’s chest, breaking its focus as it tried to restore its hand from the remnants on the ground.
The old man shrank the hammer and leapt at his foe with his arm cocked back. He swung Vigr overhead and it smashed into the Forge Guardian’s head, cracking it and sending the two halves falling to the ground. He had done it. He had won.
He let out a victorious cry, holding Vigr high. “I am worthy,” he bellowed as the Forge Guardian reassembled itself.
“Do you believe so?” asked the creature, rolling its neck around as the heat melded his broken head back together. “You do indeed possess great strength, Pheston of Lundstad, but your trial does not end here. If you are to craft a work of masterful art in the Forge of Ages, you must have the knowledge and skill to do so…or you will surely perish in the process.”
Friedrich’s heart sank and he moved to speak, but Pheston was grinning.
“I know,” he said. “A small price to pay for friends to whom I owe my life.”
“That is unacceptable,” said Teleri. “If we knew this was a risk then we would not have agreed to this.”
“I’ll be alright,” said Pheston. “I’ve got my boys with me, eh?”
Bjorn looked proudly at his father. “Yes, you do. We will do whatever task you request of us.”
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“That’s right, grandfather,” said Alf eagerly.
“That’s permissible, is it not?” Pheston asked the Forge Guardian.
“That is permissible,” it agreed, retreating to its resting place and slumping back down into a burning pile of coal. “My power will bolster your own. What do you bring as your primary reagent today?”
“Dragon bones,” boomed Pheston. “Wait until you feast your flames on these, Guardian. I suspect it’s been an age since you had an offering like this.”
“Yes,” said the Forge Guardian, sounding enticed. “Two hundred and seventy-three years. It is a most welcome offering. We shall begin immediately.”
“First things first,” said Pheston, turning to the three men. “Lads, bring in the goods. Teleri, make sure these knuckleheads don’t drop anything when they’re carrying it up the stairs.”
“As you wish,” said the high elf.
The four headed outside as Pheston cast off his tunic and flexed his muscles. He was looking forward to this more than he had looked forward to anything in decades. He had spent a couple of hours working with Bjorn in Lundstad and found his memories and technique to be as precise as he had expected. He thought about the diagrams and combinations of metals and minerals he had drawn in the dirt in Keldracht. He had not expected to ever use them and had played with the ideas in his mind time and time again. He had dreamed vivid dreams about working with any forge he could get his hands on and often thought about breaking into one of the demonic towers in search of one, but deemed it not worth the risk.
This, however, was worth the risk. Creating a weapon from the bones Tierfyr, of all dragons, and in the Forge of Ages, of all forges. The chance of death seemed like a fly batting around his head; no real threat. And it was in service to Friedrich, who had been his spark in the night. To think he had considered remaining behind in the demonic land when freedom stood before him. He was more grateful to Teleri than he could express in words and the Alaurian would no doubt shirk them should he speak them. Had she not thrown Vigr through the portal, he did not know what his fate would have been.
“It played out how it was supposed to,” he muttered to himself, smiling as he watched his family and friends hauling the obscenely heavy supplies into the chamber. He started laughing wildly.
“What?” grunted Bjorn as he dropped the cart, leaving the minotaur Friedrich bearing the brunt of the weight while Alf pretended to support it.
“I was joking about bringing the whole cart, lads,” chuckled Pheston. “You could have just taken the bags.”
Teleri scowled. “I would have been happy to assist with that, you buffoon. Do you think this is an appropriate time for your nonsense?”
Pheston was crying tears of mirth as Friedrich turned back into a human. “We’ll give you this one, old man,” said the Mercian with a grin. “But only because you’re doing us a favour.”
“You’re a good boy, Friedrich,” said Pheston, calming down and puffing out his muscular chest. “You’re a good boy. Alright, the pair of you can get out of here. Wait outside for a while, enjoy the view or hunt something for our dinner. We Corobathians have real work to do.”
“Very well,” said Teleri. “Good luck, Pheston. Bjorn. Alf.”
“I have full faith in all of you,” said Friedrich.
“I am growing impatient,” growled the Forge Guardian.
“Shoo!” scolded Pheston with a smirk and Friedrich and Teleri swiftly departed, letting the stone doors fall closed behind them.
The two looked at the doors, wondering how long it would be before they would reopen, signalling Pheston’s success. They did not like entertaining the idea that he would fail and succumb to the hardship of creating his masterworks, but the idea flickered through their minds.
“He’ll be fine,” said Friedrich, waving a hand dismissively. “The man is a menace to any challenge that comes his way.”
Teleri gave a sharp nod. “I agree. I also find him to be a menace.”
“But you’ve warmed to him as you warmed to me and Marina,” said Friedrich, nudging her.
She pushed her tongue into the side of her cheek. “I find you all acceptable,” she said, turning away from him and walking down the steps.
“Acceptable,” scoffed Friedrich. “You’ve said much nicer things to us in the past.”
“My opinion of you ebbs and flows like the tide,” said Teleri, her voice light and airy. “Sometimes I consider you a friend and other times I consider you a nuisance that I find myself unable to be rid of.”
“Likewise,” said Friedrich with a knowing grin.
“What?” shrieked Teleri, spinning around to face him with a look of horror on her face. When she saw him sniggering, the realisation that he too had been joking hit her and she blushed. “You are as funny as the old man,” she scowled. “I do not like it when the human races joke with me for I still do not understand your kind the way you do each other.”
Friedrich laughed. “You made the same joke!”
“That is neither here nor there.”
“Whatever you say,” snorted the young man. “What should we do to kill some time?”
Teleri’s eyes narrowed and she gave him a sly smile. “I can think of something we can do,” she said, her voice low and quiet.
Friedrich raised an eyebrow as Teleri drew her bow and ran along the pass. Killing. She had, of course, meant killing something. He chuckled as he drew his sword and shield while running after her.