“That’s how the smoke seems to pour out from the nose of the dragon on the north side of the island,” Kestrel said, coming up behind Wily. He pointed to the tubes in the side of the mountain. “A series of exhaust vents have been built into the island to hide the true location of the Eversteel Forge.”
“Brilliant,” Wily said.
“The creators of the forge were ingenious,” Kestrel said, then eyed his son. “Like someone else I know.”
Wily couldn’t help but smile at the compliment.
“Like someone you had imprisoned,” Pryvyd said with a tinge of jealousy. It was clear to Wily that the Knight of the Golden Sun was not keen on Kestrel’s growing affection for him.
“They had to keep it safe,” Odette said, eyeing the pyramid, “since it’s a device that would make any woman, man, or beast unstoppable.”
“Which is exactly why we needed to get to it,” Kestrel said to Wily. “Your mother and Panthasos are in danger, and down there is the best chance of rescuing them.”
Wily looked over the lip of the balcony. A steel ladder stretched from the high platform down to the ground. He ran his fingers over the metal handles of the ladder. He could feel the strength of the metal.
“I think this ladder will be a lot sturdier than the rope ladders and bridges we’ve had to traverse in the past,” Wily said. “It looks safe.”
“So did the submerged hallway before the electric eels swam into it,” Pryvyd said, giving the ladder a tug.
“Trust the boy,” Kestrel said. “He knows more about constructing things than even I do. If he says it is safe, it is.”
Climbing over the edge of the balcony, Wily placed his hands on either side of the ladder. He tucked the soles of his shoes on the outside of the ladder and gently released his grip. At once, he began to slide down. He had done this a thousand times back in Carrion Tomb, but here the metal was so smooth that he didn’t even need to tuck his hands into his sleeves to avoid getting splinters. He reached the bottom with a thump.
As the others descended behind him, Wily looked up at the pyramid that stood before him. It was made entirely of steel, its metallic wall reflecting its surroundings perfectly. Pieces of cracked armor and broken weapons littered the floor: metal sleeves, golden swords, and steel boots were scattered before the entrance. As the light caught the outside walls of the pyramid at certain angles, Wily could see a faint rainbow pattern shine across the surface. It reminded him of how Roveeka’s knives looked right after a solid polishing. Wily could see his own reflection staring back at him. His father came up behind him and patted him on the shoulder. Wily had never looked at both himself and his father at the same time. The resemblance was more pronounced than he had ever realized before.
“A magnificent sight,” Kestrel said. “The stuff of legend.”
“The pyramid is bigger than I imagined,” Wily replied.
“That’s not the sight I was talking about,” Kestrel said, referring to the reflection of father and son together.
A booming voice called from within the pyramid: “Whether you have come here with the best intentions or the worst, I will not let you lay your hands on the Eversteel Forge.”
The statement was followed by the sound of metal chains sliding against the floor. Out from the door came a pair of creatures with human torsos and snake tails where their legs would be expected to be. Wily recognized these fearsome creatures. He had seen one in Squalor Keep during his first dungeon-raiding adventure with Odette, Righteous, Pryvyd, and Moshul. They referred to themselves as the Summoned Ones, fierce protectors of whatever area they were asked to watch over. These snakes, however, were far more intimidating than the one they had met in the Keep. This pair was dressed from head to tail in armor made of the same shiny reflective steel that the walls of the great pyramid were made of. They each held a pair of curved scimitars, spinning them in circles as they approached.
“There is only death for those that approach,” the male Summoned One said, “when we stand guard.”
“No weapon can pierce our armor,” the other Summoned One said as she clashed her blades together. “It was burned in the fire of the forge. It is unbreakable, just like our swords.”
Pryvyd made a series of quick hand signals to Odette, and in response, she stepped back to Moshul’s side. Wily watched as she casually plucked a yellow mushroom off the side of his body. With a quick toss, she threw the mushroom at the Summoned Ones’ tails. It exploded in a cloud of yellow smoke—which was quickly sucked away. Wily watched as the smoke was pulled up through the air to the very same vent that continued to sweep away the billowing smoke from the top of the metal pyramid.
“I’m sure that trick has worked for you in the past,” the female Summoned One said, “but not this time.”
“Sometimes it works,” Odette said. “Sometimes not. But this time it did.”
While the guardians had been distracted by the mushroom cloud, Righteous had flown right past them, slipped into a piece of discarded silver armor, and grabbed a mighty sword. Now it was ready to do battle. Righteous took on both Summoned Ones at the same time, parrying their attacks one after the next. The snake-people’s scimitars hit the eversteel plating now encasing Righteous. The blows bounced off the impenetrable armor.
“This is our chance,” Pryvyd said to the others. “Righteous will hold them off until we’re safe.”
Wily and his friends ran for the entrance of the metallic temple as Righteous intercepted the Summoned Ones.
“Stop them,” the male Summoned One shouted to his fellow guard as he parried one of Righteous’s swings.
The female Summoned One tried to slither toward Wily, but Righteous was too fast for her. The arm swung the eversteel blade in a figure eight, keeping her at bay.
“It’s just one arm!” she screamed. “We have disposed of a dozen soldiers before with no problem.”
Wily and his fellow adventurers slipped through the large open door. Inside was one room with an enormous bellow, a coal-burning fire, and an anvil twice the size of Moshul. The fire burned a bright orange with flickers of green and blue. All along the walls, suits of gleaming armor hung beside swords and shields. There was one suit of platemail armor so huge it seemed as if it had been made for a stone golem. Most striking was an elaborate metal tree with sparkling golden leaves hanging from it. It was a sight so breathtaking that it made Wily come to a complete halt.
“It’s beautiful,” Roveeka said.
“Glad you like my handiwork,” a gruff voice called out from the other side of the room. “It’ll be the last thing you lay your eyes on.”
Next to the forge, a gwarf stood with a young woman twice as tall as him. Both were holding swords pulled straight from the forge.
“The Summoned One will make quick work of your arm,” the gwarf said. “Until then, you will have to deal with us.”
“Before we come to blows,” Wily said, “can I ask one question?”
“Go ahead,” the girl said, pointing the blade in his direction. “Speak before Tonguesplitter makes that all but impossible.”
“You name your blade?” Roveeka said with surprise. “I do that too. Which is not so important right now.”
“That tree?” Wily asked. “Did you make it for a purpose?”
“A forge that only makes blades is not worth its fire,” the gwarf said. “But I have a feeling you haven’t come all this way to hear about my art. I know what you want. Same as everyone else who seeks the Eversteel Forge. Weapons.”
“That may be true,” Wily said. “But please hear our story before you judge us.”
“We have only one goal,” the old gwarf said.
“To protect the forge from outsiders,” Pryvyd answered for the gwarf.
“Wrong,” the gwarf replied. “We stand guard to protect the world from the forge.”
“My father is right,” the girl said. “An unbreakable sword is unbreakable. A weapon like that doesn’t just disappear after it is put to noble use. It remains long after that. To be used by others for less noble reasons.”
“Swords and shields tear people apart,” the gwarf said. “The weapons I have built have done more harm than good.”
“We need to save the people who we love,” Wily said. “An evil cavern mage has taken over the kingdom of Panthasos. Your forge and what we can build with it is our only chance at reclaiming it.”
“The mage is using the machines that I built and enchanting them with magic,” Kestrel said. “The machines that were once used for evil are now an even greater threat. The only chance we have at stopping him is to use your forge to build an army of unbreakable machines to face off against them.”
“I refuse,” the gwarf said. “More problems, I say. It will only lead to more problems.”
Wily turned to the girl. “The cavern mage Stalag is terrorizing the innocent people of Panthasos. That’s what we are fighting against.”
From just outside the temple, a voice called.
“Do we still have to fight this floating arm?” the male Summoned One asked. “We’re getting awfully tired over here. And you just seem to be talking in there.”
“Will you tell your arm to put down the sword?” the girl asked the group.
Pryvyd nodded and then shouted, “Righteous, you can come in now. We’re safe.”
Righteous, still mid-battle, floated backward to get a clear view inside the temple of the forge.
“We’re fine,” Odette insisted. “Get in here.”
Satisfied, Righteous broke off from fighting with the snake people and flew inside. After a beat, the two armored Summoned Ones slithered inside.
“Holy Glothmurk!” the female Summoned One said. “That arm is relentless. I’m exhausted.”
“And we’ve been training every day…,” the male Summoned One added. “For like eight hours a day. Push-ups. Stairs, sword swinging, shield lifting.”
“You’ve got some skills,” the female Summoned One said to Righteous.
Righteous tossed the sword in the air with a flip and caught it again without missing a beat.
“In fairness,” the male Summoned One grumbled, “the floating arm doesn’t need to focus on legwork at the same time.”
“Neither do you,” the female Summoned One pointed out. “You’ve got a tail.”
“You know what I mean.”
Wily renewed his pleading with the gwarf and girl. “There are thousands of families whose lives will be turned to misery if you don’t help us.”
They shook their heads, unconvinced.
“I know how you feel,” Odette said. “I once gave up on the world too. All I wanted was to leave it behind. And find a place like this.”
“You should have,” the gwarf said. “It is quiet and peaceful—”
“And lonely,” the gwarf’s daughter added.
“When my parents died”—Odette was speaking directly to the daughter now—“I was lonely too. Then I found my friends. And the world looked brighter. Through them, I realized that Panthasos was worth fighting for.”
The gwarf’s daughter slowly turned to her dad. “Father, people might have used the forge for evil in the past, but you need to give the world a second chance.”
The old gwarf walked a slow circle inside the temple, staring at the blue and green flickers in the forge flame. He came to a stop, placing his arm on the metal surface of the mighty anvil.
“It’s hard to trust again,” the gwarf said without turning around. He grabbed a glowing poker from the flames and brought it to the anvil, laying it to rest there. Then he turned to the others. “But I will try.”
“Thank you!” Odette said. “This would have been a very long trip for nothing otherwise.”
“So what is it you want to build, exactly?” the gwarf said.
“Mechanical men to fight the evil mage’s enchanted machines,” Wily explained. “They will not be used to hurt a living soul.”
“I have drawn some plans.” Kestrel pulled a tube from his waist. He uncorked the top of it and rolled a series of detailed blueprints out on the worktable. Drawn in blue ink were pictures of a mechanical army.
“So have I,” Wily said, pulling his own soggy scroll from his trapsmith belt. He laid it out next to his father’s. Wily’s showed an equally impressive mechanical soldier.
“I think we could combine them,” Kestrel said.
The gwarf pressed his hands down on both pages, examining them closely.
“Looks like we’ve got some work to do,” he exclaimed, then turned to his daughter. “We’re going to need ore, extra gloves, and hammers.” He pointed to an enormous block of silver-hued ore held up by chains. The gwarf’s daughter ran over to a winch and began lowering it. Then the gwarf turned to the group. “This is more than a father-and-daughter job. Everyone is going to need to help.”