The gate to the main hall closed and was locked from the inside. Two soldiers led the group forward, while one at the back made sure no one lagged behind.

Sarien couldn’t help but stare at all the paintings of the heroes. They were vivid with color and depicted battles, dripping with red to show rivers of blood, as well as quiet nights around campfires, dark and heavy.

The heroes were in all of them, most represented by different colors attached to their specific powers, Sarien figured. Light blue for Asmund the Aeromancer, red for Ivan the Burner, a legendary pyromancer, black for Ein Godslayer, and so on.

Asmund and Ivan were the most famous of the fabled group, but those without magical abilities had always interested Sarien more, like Ein. No one really knew what he did, but he was supposedly the one who had figured out how to kill the evil tyrants. Very little was known about him, and Sarien had always loved the mysterious figure as a child.

The soldier behind Sarien gave him a nudge, and he hurried to catch up to the others, muttering, “Sorry.”

More paintings followed, depicting the visage of the heroes that Sarien hadn’t know existed. Actual portraits!

There was Liv with a blocky face and proud posture that radiated authority. Sarien wouldn’t have known that it was her except for the heavy armor she wore. He had pictured her differently in his mind.

Another poke in his back. “You have to keep moving, sir. Your friends are waiting for you.”

Sarien looked up and saw them at the end of the hallway, far ahead of him. He apologized again.

Sarien hurried along, still glancing at the paintings as he passed. Ivan looked just as Sarien thought he would, with intense eyes that almost burned, and hair that stood unkempt in every direction, fire roaring behind him as he stared straight ahead with an expression of complete rage, his mouth open in a toothy snarl.

Sarien looked ahead but then snapped back to look at the next painting after seeing it out of the corner of his eye. He chuckled. It almost looked like Heradion. That same old face with a sense of agelessness. The white hair was different though, and he had water circling around him to show off his hydromancy. Jouko the hydromancer. That particular hero was one of the less known ones.

The soldier shoved, obviously impatient with Sarien’s lingering. Goslin and the others disappeared through an opened door.

Ein’s wife was next in the line of portraits. Anja was depicted a beauty with large, expressive eyes and a wide smile that seemed to warm everything around her. The painting showed her blonde hair blonde with streaks of chestnut, rather than the raven black he’d read about.

Sarien’s view was suddenly blocked. The soldier stepped between him and the wall, grabbing his arm. “Look here, you little shit. If Syster has to wait for you, I’ll get the blame. Understand this, you don’t want to make her angry.” He pulled at Sarien, hurrying him along.

They made it through the door and Sarien saw Kax at the end of another hall entering a room. The soldier rushed him down the length of the hallway and didn’t let go of his tight hold on Sarien’s arm until he ushered Sarien inside.

Goslin was speaking with a woman with a severe looking face and her gray hair tied in a bun at the back of her head when Sarien entered. Chain mail armor covered her from her neck to her toes and she carried a large sword in a sheathe at her side.

Syster, captain of the defense of Tyralien. She stood with both palms planted flat on a table that held a map of Tyralien and the lands surrounding the city. “We could use you in a dozen different places, but if some of you have to go below, then so be it. It would be good to clear it out if possible. A lack of water will end up killing more than swords if this siege goes on much longer. There’s an escape route down there, too, should we need it for transporting food or, in the worst case, evacuation of the king.”

“Do you know what manner of creature is down there?” Lana asked, her eyes wide with wonder as she stared up at the much taller woman.

Syster looked up at Sarien as he approached the table, then back to Lana. “Afraid not. Some sort of creature. We’ve had some new reports of people hearing strange noises through the grates and sounds of struggle. A house collapsed in on itself. Tendrils that looked like the arms of an octopus whipped around and injured a few citizens but withdrew when we rained arrows upon it. We thought those devils outside brought it in through the escape tunnel, but now we’re not so sure.”

“At least arrows can hurt it,” Heylien said.

Goslin turned to Sarien. “Did you and Tomford see anything like that in Rhinerien?”

“No,” Tomford said, shaking his head. “I’ll go with those defending the walls. My fists are no use against monstrous creatures.”

“I understand,” Goslin said. “Sarien, you should go down there. You can light the way if a torch or lantern is insufficient. Perhaps your powers will prove useful against whatever creature is down there.”

Sarien swallowed hard. “Right. By myself?”

“Of course not!” Kax said. “I’m coming with you. My sword can hurt anything!”

“Yes,” Goslin said. “Lana and Heylien, you should go as well. Hart, I’d feel better if you aided Sarien with your sword.”

Hart looked to Sarien and then Goslin. “I’ll go with you, Princeling.”

Goslin and Hart stared at each other for a moment, Goslin narrowing his eyes at Hart’s strangely blank face.

Goslin relented. “Fine. You come with me then.”

“Is there a map of the underground water systems?” Heylien asked. Syster pointed him to one on the wall.

“But can’t we all go together?” Sarien asked.

Syster interjected. “We have urgent need of reinforcements along the west wall. Your geomancer will be invaluable there. Emeryn, was it?”

“It is,” Emeryn said.

“Those of you who are going to help should head there right away. We don’t have a moment to lose.”

The group began to disperse. Goslin grabbed Sarien’s hand and shook it. “My friend, you will do fine. I believe in you and I’ll see you once we repel these rhinn invaders. Go destroy whatever lurks beneath the streets of Tyralien.”

“I will,” Sarien said.

“Emeryn, Hart, and Tom, you’re with me.”

“Take care,” Emeryn said.

“Don’t get hurt, you hear?” Tomford said, slapping Sarien and Kax on the back.

Kax shook his head. “Such encouraging words.”

Heylien stood next to Syster, reviewing the map on the wall. “Where do you recommend we enter the tunnels?”

“Enter through the service entrance here,” Syster said, pointing at a marking on the map. “You can move around freely down there, but it’s quite the maze. The tunnels are also used for moving guards quickly around the city, before we sealed it off, that is. The flow of water is stemmed by some creature. If you can find out what, we’ll all be in your debt.”

“Water running underground,” Lana muttered. “What a strange thought.”

“But effective,” Kax said. “Fyrie isn’t half as well-planned.”

Heylien held up his quiver. He had been diligent with retrieving his arrows from his targets, but he spent several on the mad dash into Tyralien. “I’m going to need arrows.”

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Syster nodded. “I’ll send you with someone who can show you where to find whatever you require.”

Lana walked up to the table. “Did a man named Wade come through here?”

“Who’s Wade?” Kax asked.

“The aeromancer?” Syster asked. “Yes. I already sent him to help repel the forces at the south wall, where the enemy is most numerous.”

Lana frowned.

“Were you told of the rhinn’s traveling?” Sarien interrupted.

Syster nodded. “Goslin mentioned their unusual power, and it makes sense. A few seem to randomly appear within the city walls. We have lookouts stationed throughout the city and we’ve caught them every time they tried to get inside after they took us by surprise during the first attack.” She sighed. “Now, if you’d please let me get back to my aides?”

Several young men stood hopping from foot to foot, anxiously waiting to deliver their messages.

“Just one more thing,” Sarien started saying, but Syster held up a hand, then pointed to a young man next to the door.

“Bjorn will answer whatever questions you still have while he takes you to a quartermaster. Good luck!” She dismissed them with a wave of her hand, her sole focus on the young aide before her.

Bjorn bowed. “If you’ll come with me.”

“Who are you then?” Kax asked when they were back out in the corridor. Bjorn looked sickly, dark circles shadowing his eyes and the regal clothes he wore hung loose on his body.

“Bjorn Valpen,” the youth said, dragging his fingers through his hair that was almost red enough he could be mistaken for a Vatner. He pulled several strands free and winced.

“Wait. You’re Prince Bjorn?” Kax asked.

Bjorn winced again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Lana asked. “Why are you running errands if you’re the prince?”

“I wanted to help any way I could. There’s something wrong with me, some illness. Don’t have the strength to fight, but I can do this, at least.”

Lana reached for his face and waved her hands around. “Couldn’t someone just heal you?”

Bjorn laughed and pulled back a little. “In Tyralien? They wouldn’t even see me when we traveled all the way to Vatnbloet last year. We have none here. Never have. Tyrians have never been firm believers.”

“I could see that,” Kax said. “Godless heathens.”

Bjorn barked a laugh, then winced and clutched his chest. “Yep, that’s us.”

“Couldn’t Tomford heal him?” Sarien asked.

“One of you is a healer?” Bjorn asked, his eyes widening.

Kax grinned. “Sure. Syster just sent him to the west wall. You should go and ask him.”

“Is he very pious?” Bjorn asked, his color rising in his cheeks. He looked much improved simply from hearing there was a healer present in the city.

“I’m sure he’ll help you,” Heylien said. “But I need arrows.”

“And I need to find a smith by the name of Mohalim,” Sarien added.

“Mohalim?” Bjorn asked. “We’ll go fetch arrows from the quartermaster. She knows every smith in the city. She might even know where to find him in this chaos. The whole city is full of refugees. I don’t know how you managed to get into the city, but you must have seen how empty the country is?”

“We came from Kleotram,” Kax said. “Didn’t see a single Tyrian between the border and here.”

Bjorn smiled weakly. “That’s because they’re all here. Before the devils outside gathered enough troops to attack the city, we sent riders in every direction, telling our citizen to flee. Most came here. Supplies are running out fast, even with the rationing, but it’s not enough. Do they know of our struggle in Kleotram?”

Kax shook his head. “Some rumors at the border, nothing more. Kleotram was locked tight when had arrived.”

Bjorn’s face fell. “We’re on our own then. I think they’re trying to starve us out.”

“Why is that?” Heylien asked.

“Their attacks are infrequent and without real conviction. We are still struggling to repel them as is. If they attacked with more coordination, we’d get crushed. Yet, they don’t, and I don’t understand why.”

“Those we’ve fought have not been particularly skilled,” Heylien said.

“And those we rode past didn’t seem to have any leadership. No one to hold them together and direct their actions,” Lana added.

“You’re saying it’s just a mass of ants out there with no queen?” Bjorn asked.

Before leaving, Sarien got down to one knee and hugged Daisy. “You stay in here. It’s going to be dangerous. Good thing you didn’t follow Hart, it would be even worse at the wall, I think.”

The dog tilted his head and snorted, then sighed and padded off to a corner to lie down. Daisy looked at Sarien with his big wet eyes before resting his head on top of his paws.

The quartermaster stood behind a wooden table heaped with ledgers and stacks of paper. Equipment in all shapes and sizes surrounded her in the open courtyard where lanterns lined the walls. Large barrels were filled with swords, pikes, and maces. A loud and rhythmic clanging of hammers on metal rang out again and again from somewhere nearby. Heylien quickly made his way to a table and grabbed two full quivers.

Sarien and the others approached the quartermaster who was speaking with several staff members and didn’t notice their arrival.

When her aides scurried off, she turned to Bjorn, who led their little party. “What do you want?”

Her voice was deep and commanding, which fit her short and squat build. Thick and muscular arms peeked out from beneath a tunic and leather armor that looked like it should belong to a smaller man. She scratched her wide and flat nose that had been broken sometime in the past. “Well, out with it, Bjorn!”

“Ah, you see,” Bjorn stammered.

Sarien stepped up beside him. “Mohalim the smith. Do you know where he is?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What do you want with him? He signed on with me and I need him. You can’t have him.”

“Just want to talk.”

The quartermaster eyed the two quivers Heylien took, looked down into a ledger, and then made a mark in one of the columns. “He’s just through there,” she said, putting down the pen to point at an open door. Beyond it, Sarien saw flickering flames of a hot forge.

He felt a rise in anticipation. The man Sarien traveled for days to find was finally within reach. Now that he’d arrived, it was almost too much to bear. What if the man didn’t know where his father was? He swallowed his nervousness. If he didn’t know, Sarien had no choice but to keep looking.

“I’ll stay out here and see if Bjorn knows anything useful,” Heylien said.

Lana stayed with them, but Kax followed Sarien to the door. “I like weapons, remember?”

“Thought you were done looking since you got that,” Sarien said, nodding toward the short sword.

Kax shrugged. “I can still appreciate the craftsmanship. Wouldn’t mind a larger blade or something else, if you decide to start imbuing more weapons for us.”

Sarien just shook his head and stepped through the door.

The heat inside the next room was oppressive, almost as if walking through a solid wall of heat. Sweat immediately beaded and ran down his face.

Four smiths worked in a spacious chamber with hard-packed dirt floors. Each of them had their own forge, anvil, barrels of cool water, and a plethora of tools and other equipment that Sarien didn’t know the name of. The hammering was loud enough that you could barely think, much less hear.

“Mohalim!”

No one heard. Thankfully, the one closest spotted him coming in.

“Are you Mohalim?” Sarien shouted right into his ear. The smith shook his head, then went over and grabbed a man’s shoulder to turn him around from his work.

A wave of recognition hit Sarien as he saw the other blacksmith’s scowling, wrinkled face. He couldn’t tell from where or when, but he must have met this man before. Bushy white eyebrows rose in the smith’s face and then recognition widened his eyes.

He turned back and hurriedly grabbed a set of tongs to put the object he was working on into a barrel of water. Steam rose in a billowing cloud of steam and the metal hissed sharply. The smith adjusted a red cloth band on his forehead, so his shoulder length hair was pulled away from his face.

Mohalim then hung a thick brown leather apron from a peg and gestured for Sarien and Kax to follow him into another room. He was shirtless, the hair on his chest as white as his bushy eyebrows. Despite his obvious age, Mohalim looked healthy and strong. His arms were as muscled as any young blacksmith’s and the many healed burns on his forearms spoke of a long career in front of a forge. The blacksmith’s skin tone was even darker than the Tyrians’.

Mohalim waved them through another set of doors that lead into an empty courtyard. He shut the door behind them, muffling the cacophony within.

“I’ve met you before, haven’t I?” Sarien asked.

“Of course you have, Sarien, but I didn’t think you’d remember.” His voice carried a slight accent.

“Where? Have you visited father at the Karm estate?”

Mohalim laughed. “No, no. You were just a small child when your father showed you off. Karm, you say. Is that an Eldian name? He never did say where he disappeared off to.”

“Is he here?” Sarien asked, hope fluttering in his chest.

When Mohalim nodded, that hope soared. “He would not be happy to see you here, Sarien,” the smith said. “Not in a city under siege by the rhinn and whatever else lurks beneath. It’s dangerous here.”

“He can take care of himself,” Kax interjected. Then he narrowed his eyes. “You know about the rhinn?”

The old blacksmith fell silent.

“Is he here in the keep?” Sarien asked. He didn’t care if his father was happy to see him. At this point, he just wanted answers. Needed them.

Mohalim pointed down to the ground. “He’s down there. E—” he broke off to clear his throat. “Your father would not be pleased that I told you where to find him, but now you know you can’t follow.”

“You know him,” Sarien said. It was not a question. “Who is he? Really? Trym the pyromancer?”

“That is between the two of you, lad. He’s your father and you should show him his due respect. If you just wait, I’m sure he’ll be along eventually.”

Sarien shook his head. “I’m done waiting.” He turned to Kax. “Let’s get back to the others.”

They were almost out the door when Mohalim sighed. “Hold on. If you’re going down there, you’ll need a sword.”

Sarien stopped and looked back at Mohalim. “Do you have any spears?”

The old man grinned. “I might have one around here somewhere.” He looked over at Kax. “What about you, boy? Need something more than that short blade?”

“Why is Sarien a lad and I’m a boy?” Kax asked, glaring. Then he smiled and brandished the short obsidian looking blade to hold it out over his head, before bringing it down on a nearby wooden bench, cleaving it clean in two.

Mohalim’s eyes widened in surprise and he took a step forward, holding out his hand as if wanting to grab the sword. “Where did you get it?”?”

Kax shrugged over to Sarien. “He made it.” Then he winced. “Wait. Was that a secret? Sorry.”

“I don’t know if its’s a secret,” Sarien said. “Do you know what it is, Mohalim?”

“Never knew it could work like that,” Mohalim answered. “Are there different effects depending on what’s trapped inside?”

“Sure,” Kax said. “Sarien’s old spear turned venomous from the luison inside it.”

“It did?” Sarien asked.

Kax nodded.

Mohalim shook his head in disbelief, staring at Kax’s sword. “You met luisons and lived? You’re stronger than your father knows, then.” He fell silent and shook his head slowly. “Transcendent metal. The wonders I could create.” He stared unblinking for another few breaths, then shook himself. “Come, lad. I’ll get you that spear. When this is all over,” he gestured around them, “please come see me.”