Their mode of travel was strange and none of them ever got a straight answer about how it moved or what was powering it.  One thing they all agreed on was that it was fast.  Moving quicker than a galloping horse day and night they covered more ground than Callindra ever thought possible.

In just a few days they had traveled from the cool northern foothills deep into the mountains.  Once the ground outside was covered with snow, they slowed and stopped.  In the distance they could see the far-off cone of a volcano, a thin wisp of smoke rising from its summit.  The flat plain of a glacier separated them from the ashmount, and Callindra immediately recognized the place.

“That’s it.  That is where we are going.”  She said with certainty.  “That is Beliach’s forge, or at least where it used to be.”

“The old blighter is still there, I’m sure of it.”  Horace said, blowing air through his moustaches.  “Last I talked with him, he said he couldn’t ever get a better setup than that.”

Callindra stopped and stared at him.  “You’ve been there?”  She asked, her eyes intent.

“No, just the last time I talked with him that’s what he said.”  Horace said, “I sometimes chat with him.  Smith to smith so to speak, well to be honest, more like master smith to apprentice smith.  His ideas about metallurgy and composition are, for lack of another word, visionary.”

They all stopped and looked at him and Horace trailed off.  “Ah, well.  That’s not really the point is it?”

–

It was just after sunset when Durrak led Tuk up the road to his house.  The trading had gone even better than expected and he has surprises carefully chosen for each of his family members.  As he came around the last bend he saw something that made his heart catch in his throat.  The front door was kicked in, the stable was on fire and strange horses were standing in the courtyard as though they were used to this kind of thing.

He dropped the pony’s reins and ran to the house, grabbing a piece of firewood from the pile as he ran.  A human with a smile splitting his face sauntered out holding a bag of something.  That smile was obliterated by a single swing of Durrak’s makeshift club.  Others followed and his memory faded in a red haze of rage.  When he finally came to his senses again he was sitting among the ashes of a burned out house, crying and holding the remains of his family in his arms.

It was someone calling his name that brought him out of his dazed state.  Someone who could not be ignored.  Someone who could not be denied.

“Durrak, son of Storgar the Wyrmslayer.  I have need of you yet.”  Moradin’s voice demanded attention and respect.  “You will not end here, although a part of you has died.  I have work that needs doing.”

“Why did you let them take my family?” Durrak said, tears still streaming down his face, “My beautiful babies.  Why?”

“It was not my intention.  Your youngest called me here; I regret I was too late to save them.” Tears coursed down the God’s face, “If only they had summoned me earlier.”

“If only you had paid more attention to your people.” Durrak said, “You may have work for me but I will not do it.  From here I will find my own path.  From here I will forge my own future.”  He stood and walked away on feet much steadier than his mind was.

Moradin smiled a sad smile and watched him go. “You will be tempered in the fires of suffering.  You shall become stronger, even as Mithril becomes stronger in the fires of the earth.  If there was another way I would use it, but this is the only thing that will stoke the forge hot enough.”

–

They set off toward the flat plain of ice, carefully making their way down the side of a treacherous hill covered in loose shale.  As they approached the bottom of the hill a monstrous creature erupted from a cave that had been half covered by snow in a huge cloud of steam.  Dozens of legs propelled it forward, and its torso was raised revealing a mouth with insectoid mandibles.  Before any of them could do more than blink it leaped forward and swallowed Callindra with a single gulp.

“You aren’t telling me everything.”  Callindra said, “How about we make a bet?  If I beat you then you have to tell me what you’re hiding.”

Ellyn’s smile came back and she laughed, “If you beat me I won’t be able to tell you anything.  Because the day you beat me I’ll be dead!”

“We’ll see about that!”  Callindra said, springing to her feet and drawing Brightfang from his sheath.  “Let’s go!”

–

A candlemark later, Callindra finally fell and couldn’t force herself to rise.  She was simply and utterly exhausted.  Although a dozen cuts were healing with tiny tendrils of Brightstar vines and a dozen more had already healed, Ellyn was unmarked.  The woman fought with a pair of narrow blades, shorter than swords but longer than daggers and she wielded them with a brutal and ruthless efficiency.  Despite her age, she moved like nothing Callindra had ever seen.  Not since Glarian.

She lay there, trying to slow her breathing and feeling the sting of Jorda’s gift as it stitched her cuts together.  Although she wanted to talk, to ask Ellyn questions, to try and understand how she had been so hopelessly outclassed, it was all she could do to keep from losing consciousness due to sheer overexertion.

“You fight just like he did.”  Ellyn said with a smile, “You don’t hold anything back.  As much as I admire that, it isn’t a good way to fight.  As you can see, when your enemies use your enthusiasm against you it’s only a matter of time before you are defeated.”

“Almost.  Had.  You.”  Callindra managed.

“Oh, I’ll admit that you’d have done a serious amount of damage if you had managed to hit me.”  Ellyn said, “But that wasn’t the exercise here was it?  We were sparring you silly girl, this wasn’t a battle.  You spent all your energy trying for a kill stroke and completely ignored dozens if not hundreds of chances to get a touch.

“I’m guessing you’ve never sparred before.  Not really sparred anyway.”  She tucked a slightly sweaty strand of hair behind one of her ears.  “This isn’t supposed to be life and death, it’s a chance to improve your skills by testing them against someone else’s.”

“If that was the… case…”  Callindra panted, “Why did you… have to… cut me?”

Ellyn smiled, “Because you fought with all your spirit little one.”  She said gently, “It was all I could do to keep your blade from touching me, and not all of us have the strength and resilience of youth.  Or those… peculiar gifts you seem to have.  Tell me, where did you find such an exquisite item?”

“Jorda gave it to me.”  Callindra said, finally managing to get her breathing under control by relaxing fully against the reed mats on the floor.

“Jorda?  The Goddess?”  Ellyn asked, raising an eyebrow.  “You’ve been to The Grandfather Tree?”

“Oh yeah.  Just about burned it down.”  She said, trying to make her tone light but feeling the bitterness twist her words.

“I’ve heard about the fire.”  Ellyn said softly, “I had hoped it was just a rumor.”

Callindra found herself telling the woman everything.  How they had moved from one place to another, always seeming to be one step behind.  How it felt like for every good deed they tried to accomplish, two worse things seemed to happen.  About how she had been kidnapped and tortured. How she had lashed out after, trying to be stronger, to be harder and faster.  Worst of all, how Brightfang had begun to bear the effects of her fear and anger.

“When we brought that evil into the High Forest.”  She said, “When we were just trying to help a woman… and then she tore her own throat out, summoned a demon from her blood and set fire to everything…”  Callindra’s voice trailed off and she was surprised to find tears on her cheeks.

“I have been through much in my life.”  Ellyn said, looking at her with sympathy on her face, “But never so much all at once at such a young age.”  She reached out a hand to Callindra, “We have long been searching for the answers to questions regarding Dergeras.  And his master, a being we only know as Morde.”