MAGUS INFINITE

I cocked my head to the side and tried not to peer too deep into this Beastkin, and waited to hear his account fresh.

"Protection is part of it," Ruggah continued. "But it is not the whole of it. We are a Warband, and we want to fight, and we are here looking for the opportunity. The losses we suffered can only be answered in blood."

His single golden eye burned with a fire that had nothing to do with the flames between us. I understood that fire. I had felt it myself, many times, in the endless loop of death and rebirth. It was the fire that kept you going when everything else had been taken from you.

"The blood of my men cries out for vengeance," Ruggah growled. "Thirty thousand souls who trusted their commander and were betrayed."

He looked at me, and I saw the grief beneath the anger. "I will not let their deaths be meaningless. I will not let them be forgotten. I will fight until my last breath, and I will make sure that the enemy pays for every life they took."

Ogg made a low sound in his chest. "We are not looking for a victory," he said. "We are looking for a reckoning. A chance to make the enemy bleed as much as we have bled."

Thurrim grunted. "The war has been going on for three hundred years. I was not there for the beginning, but I have seen enough of it to know that it will not end with a treaty or a truce. It will end when one side is dead and the other is too tired to keep fighting."

"Elric."

The voice was soft, barely audible over the crackling fire. I looked up, and I saw Dorrik standing at the entrance to the mountain, his stone-carved face unreadable.

I stood up. "I have to go. Thank you for telling me your stories," I said, and turned to walk toward the mountain, and I felt their eyes on me. I paused and looked back at the nine survivors of Serrath.

"Keep the fire burning," I said. "As long as there is light, there is hope."

I walked toward the mountain, and the darkness swallowed me.

∞

I walked into the mountain and entered the hall of the Forgemaster. Dorrik was waiting for me at the forge. His massive hands were resting on the edge, and his grey eyes were fixed on something that lay in the center of the stone surface.

The invisible fire cast shifting shadows across his face, and I saw the second self inside him pressing against the stone of his cheek, watching me with silent intensity.

"You spent a long time with them," he said.

"They needed to talk," I replied. "And their stories needed to be heard."

Dorrik nodded slowly. "That is a good thing. A warband that forgets why it fights is a warband that has already lost."

That... was a rather interesting set of words. I walked closer to the forge, and I saw what lay on it. It had the appearance of a compass, small and unassuming, its surface a pale grey metal that seemed to drink the light rather than reflect it.

The needle was a sliver of the same eternal flame that burned in Dorrik’s forge, frozen in place and set into the heart of the device. Anyone who could not see this fire would be unable to see the needle.

"What is that?" I asked.

Dorrik picked up the device and held it out to me. "It is a guide," he said. "The tablet I gave you contains the list of materials you will need. The compass will point you toward them."

I took the compass from his hand. It was warm to the touch, and I could feel the power thrumming within it. "How does it work?"

"Hold it in your hand and think of the material you seek," Dorrik said. "The needle will turn and point you in the right direction. The farther away the material is, the more the needle will tremble. When you are close, it will grow still."

I looked at the compass and marvelled at it. This was the work of a god. "This will take me across the world."

"Yes," Dorrik said. "It will take you to the places you need to go. But you will not be making the journey alone."

I looked up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Dorrik gestured toward the entrance of the mountain, toward the camp of the nine survivors. "They came here to fight. They came here for a purpose. Give them one."

I frowned. "You want me to take them with me?"

"I want you to offer them a choice." Dorrik’s voice was quiet. "We have failed them... the gods. They have been surviving, but they have not been living. They need something to fight for, something to believe in. You can give them that. If your vision is enough to awe even me, then it will be more than enough to light a fire in the hearts of these mortals."

I thought about the warband, and shuddered. Most of my journey had been alone, and I did not know if I could hold the weight of companionship on my soul.

"They have been through so much," I whispered, knowing that Dorrik would hear me. "They have lost so many. I do not want to drag them into more danger."

Dorrik’s eyes met mine. "They are already in danger. The only question is whether they will face it alone, or whether they will face it with purpose."

I looked at the compass in my hand. "And what do I offer them? What do I tell them?"

Dorrik reached into the forge and pulled out something that glowed with a warm, golden light. It was a blade that resembled a piece of light.

"Give them weapons," Dorrik said. "Weapons forged in the Unending Flame that can cut through the darkness. Weapons that will make them something more than survivors. This is the reason they came to find me."

My eyes widened in surprise. "You would give them weapons forged by a god?"

Dorrik shrugged. "They came here seeking salvation. I am a forgemaster. This is the only form of salvation I know how to give."

I nodded slowly. "I will speak to them."

Dorrik set the blade down and turned back toward the forge. "Take it with you," he said. "Let them see what I can offer them."

I looked at the blade, then at Dorrik, and the scale of the task I was about to undertake dawned on me, and for a brief moment I hesitated. "Will you be here when I return?"

Dorrik paused. "I will be here," he said. "I am always here. But you will need to return quickly. The war will not wait, and neither will the Dragon God and the thing he brought down."

I nodded, and I turned to walk back toward the entrance of the mountain. The compass was warm in my hand, the weight of its purpose pressing against my palm.

I stepped out of the mountain, and I saw the survivors gathered around their fire. They looked up as I approached, and I saw the curiosity in their eyes.