"Something's wrong," said Vadania. "There should be far more defenders here."
"Maybe Hargrimm sent too many down to look for us," suggested Devis.
"Perhaps," allowed the druid, "but surely he would have kept a stronger guard for the forge. Do you agree, Tordek?"
Tordek nodded to make her stop talking, but he was not truly listening to her. Instead, he harkened to the rhythm of the hammer at his side. He felt its pulse through the palm that he surreptitiously laid upon the weapon's haft beneath the cover of his shield. Even though his hand itched to grip the mighty hammer, he kept it still for all the others to see, lest they question him again.
How dare they question him? he thought-or something asked him in his thoughts. None of them had ever laid a hand on one of the master smith's weapons. They could not know the honor-the responsibility-that wielding such a weapon conferred. No doubt they would quail in the face of such an awesome duty. Worse, they would deny Tordek the opportunity to do what they dared not. It was an honor he deserved, one that he earned by righteous action throughout his life. Holten thought he was worthy of the hammer of Andaron, but he was a fool to think so. He was rash and unprepared, so he had failed where his ten-year twin would-
"Tordek!" Lidda tugged at his arm. "Are you all right?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course."
"You looked all queer and distant," she said, looking pointedly at the way he held his shield over the hammer.
Tordek took his hand from the weapon and held the shield from Andaron's tomb properly. He regretted the move immediately, as the lurid glow from the hammer's head spilled out for all to see.
"Maybe you should let one of us carry that hammer for a while," said Devis.
Tordek bit his cheek to stop himself from spitting back a hateful retort, but he could not prevent himself from glaring jealously at the bard and holding the shield protectively over the weapon once more. Mustering all his will to compose his face, Tordek replied simply, "No."
"I think it would be a good idea," said Vadania. "After all, we know the hammer cannot harm those who have wielded it. If each of us takes a turn, then perhaps…"
"No!" said Tordek. A cool lucidity fell upon him like a gentle snow after long hours in a winter smokehouse. "Do you think I am unaware of the effect the hammer is having on me? Yes, damn you! It's true. I hear its whispers. I feel the curse working on my mind just as it did on Andaron's. Do you want us all to wrestle with these subversions while we face our enemy? Well, none of you has the strength for it. None of you has the guts. I am the only one who can succeed where Holt-" He stopped too late to cover his gaffe, and the others stared at him.
Both Devis and Lidda looked as though they wanted to say something, but neither of them could look him in the eye. It was Vadania who stepped close and placed a gentle hand upon his cheek rather than his armored shoulder.
"Very well," she said. "You are indeed the strongest among us, and we trust you to protect us from the curse by bearing it yourself. If it already spurs you to such distemper, though, then we must waste no more time in putting an end to those who would unleash it on the world."
A wet lump formed in his throat, and Tordek tried to swallow it before speaking. It would not budge, and an uncomfortable emotion warmed his cheeks so that Vadania's hand felt cold upon his face. He turned away to escape it, nodding agreement.
"Aye," he said. "Let us hurry."
He ran through the corridors nearest Andaron's forge, and the others followed. He felt their eyes upon his back, and he wondered whether the heat on his face was shame or rage. He wondered how much of his retort was the distortion of the hammer's seductive power and how much was his own arrogance and greed.
They arrived at the great doors they had seen from inside the foundry. No guards were posted in sight, and the huge portals stood open. Beyond them the foundry was dark but for the deep, red glow of the forge and the cauldrons of molten iron hanging above it. Tordek was the first to perceive the scene of carnage, but as their eyes adjusted to the dimness, the others gasped one by one.
Dozens of corpses lay upon the design surrounding Andaron's Hellforge. They were not strewn haphazardly but rather arrayed within the pentacle's boundaries. The bodies glistened with blood, each of them sundered by a powerful blade stroke. Some were pierced by gashes large enough that Tordek could have reached inside and clutched the victim's heart. Others were dismembered or beheaded, and all of them still bled slowly into the evil patterns on the floor.
At the center of the charnel circle squatted the wicked forge itself, the vents from its doors glowing with malign pleasure as the blood drained through the floor and into whatever vile chambers lay beneath its foundation.
Tordek searched the room with his gaze but spied no living thing on the floor. Still, some numenous feeling told him that they were not alone in the vast chamber.
"Show yourself!" he demanded. His voice came back to him, reflected down from the cavernous ceiling. Another voice came with the echo, a deep and satisfied chuckle from somewhere upon the catwalk.
"My henchmen did not believe me when I told them you would return the hammer," said Hargrimm. Tordek followed the voice, walking toward the center of the foundry but stopping short of the circle of corpses. He sensed more than heard Lidda and Devis climbing up the catwalk behind him. Vadania and Gulo crept around the perimeter, the druid chanting a spell. He hoped the wolverine's nose was keen enough to find their prey among all this stench of death and the sulfuric fuel that powered the forge.
"I had faith in you," said Hargrimm.
Now the voice sounded as though it came from across the chamber, near the floor by the mineshafts. Tordek followed it as Hargrimm spoke to him.
"I had faith that you would follow precisely in your brother's footsteps. Dutiful, brave, and utterly, utterly predictable. Now bring me my hammer. Lay it at my feet, and I might spare your life."
The light spilling in from the corridor narrowed and vanished as someone closed the great doors with a metallic toll. Tordek heard the latches click shut, but even before the sound of the bar falling into place came the fast rhythm of goblin drums summoning back the search parties.
Tordek's hand moved toward Andaron's hammer. It took a force of will to grasp his war axe instead as he stalked toward one of the iron stairways to the catwalk. He scrambled up the steps just in time to see a purple radiance spill over Hargrimm's figure, making him a brilliant target in the dark foundry. Within a second of Vadania's spell, Lidda's arrow and Devis's bolt flew toward the foe. Each missile found its mark and passed through to shatter on the wall behind Hargrimm's image.
"It's an illusion!" cried Devis. "He's hiding somewhere within sight of it!"
Tordek blinked. He still saw the image of Hargrimm illuminated by the druid's faerie fire, but now he perceived its ephemeral nature as the giant, blue goblin put his hands on his hips and leaned back to mock them with his laughter. For a second, Tordek thought the barghest was insane to cavort in such a manner during a fight, but then he realized Hargrimm's true purpose-distraction.
Near the high ceiling, a dark, red light caught Tordek's attention. He looked up to see Zagreb's leathery wings opening like a blossom, only instead of spreading for the sunlight the unfolding petals revealed the unholy glow of the reforged greatsword of Andaron. Fresh, black scars criss-crossed the monster's muscular arms. He released the grip of his taloned feet on the ceiling and fell, using his wings to turn so that he landed on both feet. The impact of his landing shook the catwalk and the entire network of ironwork surrounding the forge. He crouched momentarily, his blazing eyes fixing on Vadania. With a rumbling purr of anticipation from deep in his chest, he took a step toward her.