At Storm's Edge

by Logan Petty

  Aerabis trekked on in silence a moment as he took in Torval's story. Finally he spoke again after gathering his own thoughts.

  "He promised me that when my contract was fulfilled, I would have all the riches in Hammerhold. Can you believe I fell for such a trick? I was young and foolish.”

  Torval nodded, “The tricky part about the dragon’s deal is he intended to fulfil his promise in his own twisted terms. Most likely he imagined making you a ghostly guard over his vaults after he is through plundering the world.”

  Aerabis shuddered as he made sense of Torval’s wisdom, “What about you? What did he promise you?"

  Torval sighed, "I was born fatherless. My mother died in childbirth. He found me when I was a boy in the mountains near Grymhook. All I ever wanted was a family. He sensed that, along with my devastating potential. He promised that if I did his bidding, he would give me what I desired. So I did. He forced me to become his living weapon. I killed dwarves and orcs alike, kindling war between Grymhook and Caer Teallagh. I served him for years as a war-starter. One day, I'd had enough. I knew Malsivith would never be through with me, so I ran. I abandoned the name he gave me and began calling myself Torval. When I reached Borukstad, I hired an old witch in the hill country to change my appearance. After that, I began running with a gang of war orphans, ironically enough from a conflict I had secretly kindled in the dragon’s name. We formed the Tor Clan and the rest is history, I suppose."

  Aerabis rubbed his cheek, "But ye got yer family in the end, even if it didn't last long."

  "I suppose you're right. But I still paid the price for betraying the dragon. If only I could go back, find a way to stop him so that my son did not have to grow up hating me. What about you, Aerabis? If you could make amends, would you? If you could make sure Malsivith never trapped another innocent soul again, would you?"

  He walked in silence for several minutes as he wrestled with his own thoughts. He eventually sighed and threw his hands up in the air.

  "You know well as I do that it's too late to play the hero. Malsivith has the Sturmedge and that Ghost Eater of his. When it's reforged, he'll be unstoppable. How is anyone supposed to stand against him now? It's hopeless. My only chance at survival is to be his lapdog. Do as he says. It's kept me alive all this time, why shouldn't it keep working?"

  Torval nodded, "Aye, it is a shrewd but effective tactic. Let me ask you this. Say you survive and Malsivith doesn't turn you into a ghost immediately. What happens in fifty, sixty, a hundred years, when your life is spent naturally? Do you really think he will let you die in peace and go to the land of your kin beyond the sea of stars? Do you really believe that a dragon would let a single part of his obsessive collection flutter out of his cold grasp?"

  Aerabis swallowed the rising lump in his throat, "Yer talking madness. That's all it is. Why don't you just shut yer mouth and sniff out those heroes of yers before I go and lose my temper."

  Torval stopped in front of a metal door, "The heart of the World Forge lies beyond this point. The ones you seek are hiding within, trying to devise a plan to counterattack Malsivith. Anything they plot now, will of course be thwarted. Sawain is injured, his friends battered to the point of uselessness. If we attack them in full force together, it should be easy to kill them all. The door is unlocked. They are off guard. All you have to do is go in and strike. Or you could walk away. That is still an option. I must answer my master's bidding, but you can still refuse it."

  Aerabis stared at the softly glowing door and sighed, "Yer right, I have a choice. I've always favored winning. I'm a proud son of the Trollkin, and I won't run from a fight. Best prepare yerself, old man."

  He took in one calming breath and let it out slowly as he grabbed the smoldering handle of the door and pushed it open.

  Chapter Nineteen:

  Intense heat pulled the air from Sawain's lungs as he staggered through the dark corridors beneath the World Forge. Regret tugged at his heart. He stood inches away from the holy blade that was his destiny to claim, and he fell to a sucker punch from a troll. He went over it repeatedly in his mind, searching for a better route he could have taken, a way to beat Aerabis, but it did not matter now. Malsivith had won. He sat down on the burning hot metal grate and placed his head in his hands. Hot tears mixed with dripping sweat as he sobbed, unable, or unwilling to hold back his emotions any longer.

  Kyra and Mari sank down on either side of him and placed their heads on his shoulder as he cried. Timbrell rested his paw on Sawain's back sympathetically. Violet silently crawled into his lap and hugged him. The Chandlers carrying the bodies of Jatharr, Naralei and Firbalg halted and stood uncomfortably silent as the Swerdbrekker wept.

  Violet sniffled and began to cry as well, "Is we all going to dies here?"

  Sawain hugged her back as he could not form the words in his heart. The Chandler who led the party hesitated a moment before he knelt down before the group.

  "Master Swerdbrekker, please, No one else has to die. There will be time for tears after the battle."

  Sawain looked up, sniffling, "After? Look around you. We've lost! Malsivith has the Drougetath, the World Forge, and Sturmedge! We've failed."

  "Not yet, we haven't."

  Another Chandler stepped from the shadows. A white bandage stained with a crimson spot wrapped around her waist, a stark contrast to her black garb. She dropped her hood, revealing the hopeful smiling face of Loraleth. Sawain wiped his eyes, blinking at her.

  "What do you mean? And what happened to you? That looks like it hurts."

  "Thanks, I thought it might make me look more like a hero. Everyone else in your party is wearing them," She snarked sarcastically. It reminded Sawain of her brother.

  "I had a close call, but nothing that some quick field healing couldn't fix, well mostly. But as I was saying, we haven't lost yet. We still have the Forgemaster."

  The old dwarf raised a hand awkwardly before putting it down and shuffling his feet, "I have a name… It’s Galvas… Um, right, there is a way to stop Malsivith's ritual from being completed, or at the very least destroy the artifact, and the dragon along with it. However, it is a tad on the suicidal side of crazy."

  Sawain perked up, listening intently, "Go on, Galvas."

  The dwarf nodded, rubbing the back of his head, "Right, well, you see, we are close to the Reactor Chamber, the place where the heart of the Forge is normally contained. Inside that chamber, there are six major conduits that regulate the flow of magma into the machine. They are also enchanted and balanced to keep the lake of magma beneath us from growing unstable. Destroying one of the conduits should be enough to set the Forge off-balance. It will also flood the room with magma and there's a slight chance the reaction might destroy multiple or all of the Conduits. If that happens, the city might be at risk."

  "And our likelihood of survival?" Sawain asked hesitantly.

  The Forgemaster stared at him a moment before answering. "Low. Very low."

  Kyra patted Sawain's shoulder, "So that's better than our normal plans, right? I say what do we have to lose?"

  "Our lives," Timbrell whimpered.

  Violet giggled, "I likes the fuzzy one, he's cute."

  Sawain picked himself off the ground while Violet clung to his neck, "Dying free is better than dying and becoming Malsivith's eternal thralls. Alright, Forgemaster, lead the way and tell us what we need to do."

  Galvas beckoned with one hand as he limped down the dark hallway, "It's not far, just ahead really. On the bright side, we just came from the World Forge, so that puts us right below it."

  The party hastened along a series of halls and down one particularly hot ladder before the Forgemaster stopped at a thick metal door with a heavy handle, "Here we are! Now, the heat levels are going to be highly lethal inside. If you lot have any magic, now would be a good time to use it."

  Kyra and a few of the Chandlers went to work immediately, weaving complex protection spells around each individual. Sawain felt the temperature drop arou
nd him significantly as his arcane suit of armor formed around his skin. Once the Forgemaster was satisfied everyone was prepared, he leaned into the door and pushed it open.

  A backdraft of heat fought against him, nearly closing the door back. Sawain struggled to keep on his feet as it rushed past. The Forgemaster held his ground and slowly forced the door open.

  "In we go! Remember to work swiftly!"

  The team poured into the room as the dwarf held the door open. Sawain took a quick survey of this chamber. A softly glowing grate floor suspended them above a lake of bubbling magma that put off such intense heat, Sawain feared his protective spell would not be enough to prevent combustion. In the center of the room, a large metal cylinder rose from floor to ceiling. A series of mechanisms surrounding it indicated it must be able to rise and descend into position. The six conduits the Forgemaster mentioned stood in an evenly paced circle around the central pillar. Large metal pipes ran from them into the magma below. Gears and levers rotated in clockwork tandem as the conduits quivered. Sawain also noticed tight circles of runes that interlocked with one another all over each conduit. He assumed those were the protective wards. Galvas pointed to the one closest to them.

  "That one, MC-04, is a good candidate for dismantling. All the others had undergone yearly maintenance recently, but this one did not due to Malsivith's arrival on the day it was scheduled. Convenient, I'd say. The runes are weak as it is. We should be able to break through with a little effort."

  "I don't like the sound of that. First you go about trying to wreck the boss' big day, and now you're going to break the World Forge? You know that's Malsivith's property, don't ya?"

  Aerabis stepped out from behind one of the far conduits, saw in hand and smoke drifting in wisps from his hair and armor. He tutted at Sawain as a grin flashed across his face.

  "What's wrong, Swerdbrekker? Getting desperate? I love it when my prey is cornered. They always fight dirty. Makes it more satisfying when I deliver the deathblow."

  Sawain drew Giltglim, his eyes locked on the troll as he spoke to the others, "Take out that conduit, I'll hold him off."

  Aerabis tapped a finger on his chin as if he struggled to remember something, "Well now, here's the thing. I forgot to mention I wasn't alone! Sorry, Sawain. As much as I'd love to play, someone else has your number today. I'll just have to settle with killing all your friends!"

  Sawain rushed Aerabis, who nonchalantly turned away from him. The Swerdbrekker swung his blade fiercely, and it clashed against steel, though Aerabis made no move to engage. A ghostly axe knocked his attack away. The owner of the weapon slowly materialized before him, causing his blood to ignite. The spectral image of his father dressed in full battle regalia stood ready to fight. Sawain shook his head in disbelief.

  "What is this? Another one of the dragon's deceptions?"

  The ghost spoke in mournful, echoing tones, "I'm afraid not, my son. Malsivith owns my soul and I must heed my master's bidding. Right now, he wants you dead."

  Torval launched himself at Sawain. Giltglim deflected one strike after another, each one hitting with the force of a giant's hammer. Aerabis chuckled as torrents of magic flew at him. He redirected the attacks with his saw, sending his assailants rolling in different directions. A Chandler jumped at him from behind, but he was fast and unrelenting. The poor man did not have a chance to scream before the serrated metal tore through his body, leaving him in a smoldering pile at the troll's feet.

  Sawain tried to return to the offensive, but his attention remained divided between Torval and Aerabis as the troll began tearing through his team mates. Torval shouted as his assault intensified.

  "Pay attention to the fight in front of you, boy! I am more than enough for you as it is!"

  Sawain grit his teeth as he staggered back, "Don't speak to me, fiend! You don't deserve that privilege! I don’t know what you are, but my father died long ago, far away from here."

  Torval laughed mockingly, "Oh ho, has fame already bloated your head that you can't treat your enemy as an equal, even when losing to him? There is so little you still understand. So much you don’t know about me, or the reach of Malsivith’s influence."

  Sawain felt the heat of one of the conduits right behind him as Torval's barrage drove him back, "Don't think you're winning. This fight has only just started! If you are my father, then all the better. I never got a chance to kill you myself for what you did to me. I'll settle for this."

  He rolled aside as he backed against the conduit. Torval's blade struck it hard, bouncing harmlessly off it. The ghostly old man chuckled. The sound burned Sawain deeply. It reminded him of the times his father would laugh at his childish defiance.

  "Nice try, son, but it will take more than that to damage these conduits. They are dwarven made, not that flimsy Anvilheim steel you are used to now."

  Sawain released a flurry of strikes against Torval as he yelled above the tumult, "I AM NOT YOUR SON!"

  Torval swatted away each attack as if he fought against a child in training. He sighed as he quickly turned back to the offensive.

  " That backswing. I suffered from the same sloppiness when I was your age. I suppose it is hereditary. You have every reason in the world to hate me. In life, I tormented you day and night, forcing you to live as a slave because I locked my heart to the cruelty of the world. Now, in death, unable to seek redemption, I am tormented as I am forced to turn my blade against you."

  "Spare me your sob stories! You deserve everything you face now!"

  Torval deflected Giltglim with expert ease, "What do you know about who I was, Sawain?"

  "You were a coward! When you had the opportunity to save mother, you sat behind your stone walls and allowed us all to remain prisoners to a corrupted king!"

  Kyra screamed as Aerabis slammed into a magical wall she raised and shattered it like a pane of glass. Her distress shook Sawain's resolve, allowing Torval to score a hit. The ghost smashed the flat of his axe into his son's knee, forcing him to the ground.

  "You are right. I was a coward. If only I could repent of the evil I committed against my family, against you, I would. But I was never given that chance."

  Sawain rolled aside as Torval's axe bit into the grate where he knelt an instant before, "You had your chance for seventeen years! But you refused to take it! Don't give me this nonsense about how you're sorry while you are swinging an axe at my head!"

  Torval hesitated, giving Sawain time to regain his footing and spring back into the attack. His fury built with each blow, pushing the ghost back more and more. Soon, Torval composed himself and pushed back.

  "I attack you because I am compelled to, but I want Malsivith dead as much as you do."

  "Well then," Sawain countered as he began to run short on breath, "Why don't you help me out and jump into that lake of magma where you belong?"

  Torval sighed as he silently landed hit after hit against Sawain's weakening defenses. The Swerdbrekker knew he could not hold out against an undying warrior of Torval's caliber. So, he prayed.

  Turin help me! I am so close now, don't let it end like this!

  Torval caught him off guard and struck his hand, causing him to drop his weapon. The next strike sent him sprawling on his back, cracking his armor and the arcane shield that protected him from the heat. Torval raised his axe for the final strike.

  "I am truly and deeply sorry, my son. May my torments be a thousandfold for the evil I commit now."

  The phantom blade crashed down on Sawain's chest, but bounced back as it struck the totem that rested there. Brilliant white light flooded the room, stunning all combatants a moment. When Sawain's vision cleared, what he saw forced the breath from him.

  An angelic figure dressed in a gown of light held back Torval's blade with the shaft of a radiant spear. Bracers of living vines wrapped around her arms and feet. Golden hair billowed down her back. Her voice rang like a bell, filling Sawain with a familiar warmth.

  "Your fight is against me now, Torval,
as it has always been."

  The old man's lips quivered and ethereal tears trickled into his beard, "Skalda, is it really you? After all this time?"

  "Yes, my love. Now come, let us test our mettle like we did long ago in the hills of Jordborg."

  Skalda's spear flashed like lightning as she pushed Torval back, striking in quick succession. The old ghost returned her attacks reluctantly.

  "Skalda, how is it that I can still feel the same passion in your steel that I felt back then?"

  She smiled as she punished his defenses with each biting strike, "The love I have for our son gives me the strength to fight for him. I have never left his side, and for so long I never left yours until the day you died, your soul stolen by the dragon. Even when you remarried, I was there. Even when you kept our child enslaved at that woman's request, I stayed. I love you, and I knew that some day, you would need me again."

  Torval staggered back against a conduit, dropping his axe, "I do need you... please... I need you to forgive me."

  Skalda's spear drove through his chest and pierced the conduit beyond. She whispered in his ear as white flames enveloped his form.

  "I do forgive you. And I set you free."

  Sawain shouted as he struggled to his feet, “He doesn’t deserve forgiveness! Mother, how could you show pity to such a miserable creature?”

  Skalda looked on Sawain with a warmth that drove away the oppressive heat of the magma for a moment. “My son, anyone can act on emotion, but a true hero holds compassion as the highest value. Your father failed you in life, as did I, yet you only hold him accountable. Why did you forgive me so easily?”

  “Because…” Sawain thought a moment before responding. “I love you.”

  His mother nodded, “Seek out love, Sawain, it is a weapon that will make you a greater legend than anything made of steel or magic.”