Down below in the mountain forge, the clash of iron and grit echoed through the cold veins of the forge as Luenor ducked beneath a snapping section of a support beam and narrowly avoided another burst of earth magic from the mage above him dusted with earth and debris. The ground beneath his feet trembled, rolling as jagged pokers of broken stone shot upward directly at him.
"You run fast for a thief!" the earth-colored mage shouted from high above him, hands glowing with raw brown Creation mana.
"Damn, I'm bad at keeping my head down!" Panting and now bleeding from several cuts in his face and on his brow, Luenor crouched behind one of the furnace pipes, carefully wiped his brow, and counted the chips on his daggers. Every time he got close, the earth mage's continual rain of earth magic made getting close to him nearly impossible. He needed an edge here.
"Which noble house you with?!" the mage roared again. "If you are here for the Skyshards, you're too late! This forge is under the protection of Mellon!"
A rumble in the ground beneath his boots darkly warned Luenor that he needed to go. He rolled just as a tall stone column shot rent the floor up toward him, grazing a cut across the side. Loudly hissing from pain, he rolled into the side chamber, what appeared at first to be a vault used for storage. There — molded in a protective sheath, gleamed a Skyshard weapon. His heart raced watching flickers of light-blue veins of mana emanate from it.
Luenor didn't think twice. He took hold of the sword.
As soon as he touched the hilt, the mana stone in the center of the blade throbbed—and Luenor felt his veins throb in response. The mana he absorbed coursed through his body, and the blade resonated with his innate ability to absorb and channel magic. There was a calm strength in his limbs, and when he swung the sword, it was faster, sharper, cleaner.
Outside, Hunter stood with his arms crossed in front of the shut door, the red alarm still sounding through the forge. The dwarves and blacksmiths behind him huddled uncertainly, contemplating if they might run away, or stay and fight.
"I'm not asking again," Hunter said, in his thunderous voice, his eyes glowing faintly. "Teach the dwarf everything."
Grumbrik, the head of the forge—one stout, ash-covered dwarf with an ornate braid in his beard—huffed with exasperation. "Sure he has potential, but I can't instill years of experience in a child!"
Chote, standing awkwardly behind them, raised his hand. "Um… what if the mana is infused into the alloy before it cools completely, and then sharpened using rune-treated oils instead of firestone?"
Grumbrik paused. "...That's not stupid."
Hunter gave Chote a look. "How the hell did you think of that?"
Chote rubbed his neck shyly. "It just made sense…"
"Enough." Hunter advanced and kicked the door.
The explosion knocked the steel off the hinges. The knights behind it were pushed back and crumpled into walls; one rolled halfway across the ground. The other remaining blacksmiths who had thought about rebellion, looked pale as sheets.
Grumbrik himself blinked as the steel blew apart. "You... you kicked through reinforced dwarven steel."
Hunter grinned. "Just making a point."
Mana suddenly flared from Hunter's body. A wave of pressure blasted its way through the forge. The air screamed under the weight of the force. Alarms stopped. Guards stopped. The duel between Luenor and the earth mage above stopped as the aura swept through.
The head guard of the forge came stumbling through a nearby archway and leaned against the wall, barely conscious from the wave of force. He blinked at Hunter.
"What... what are you?"
Hunter did not respond.
Taking advantage of the elemental mage's distraction, Luenor delivered a strong spinning kick to the earth mage's chest. The man flew through an overhead skylight and landed hard, bouncing across the stone floor. Luenor leapt down after him, holding his blade pointed first.
The earth mage managed to raise rocks to soften the blow but groaned when Luenor landed on top of him.
"Nice tricks," Luenor said, standing up. "But this forge is coming down."
Shortly thereafter, Hunter arrived. "You done?"
"We've got what we need. Let's go."
Behind them, Chote followed with his eyes as wide as saucers, still stunned by everything he had witnessed. He had a few schematics cradled tightly in his robes.
"We have an exit," Luenor commented.
The earth mage and head guard tried to stop them. Hunter sighed, picked up one of the smithing hammers, and hurled it at the ceiling with sickening force.
The hammer struck the roof, on impact breaking the main support truss.
Cracks zig-zagged across the ceiling.
"Run!" Hunter screamed.
The three all bolted for the exit. The earth mage frantically tried to stabilize the overhead with magic, but the over-reach of mana and stress on the structure was too much. The forge was collapsing.
Near the forest entrance to the forge, Marquess Maxim Mellon sat on a warhorse glaring at the ruined watch tower. He watched as Bobby Venhart, his most trusted knight commander, ordered the remaining guards to be punished for failing to detect trespassers.
"Any word from inside?" the Marquess asked.
"No my lord," Bobby replied. "We had alarms going off, then nothing."
"That's not good." The Marquess narrowed his gaze.
They began to approach the eastern slope where an exit was hidden.
A knight shouted and pointed. "There! Someone's coming out!"
Bobby raised his hand to direct his men.
Then—
TWANG
Arrows had flown from the forest.
Knights fell dead. Blood sprayed over the leaves.
"Get your shields up!" Bobby shouted.
More arrows released, clouds above rumbled, and thunder cracked, as the rain began to pour.