Fifteen:
The Forge of Fire

The next morning was strange. Victoria had reunited the goodfellow and its kid and had returned to the caravan before anyone had noticed she was gone. Had traded watch with Reaver without any indication he had known about her departure. However, once dawn had broken and everyone had awoken, Victoria realised her little adventure had come with consequences.

A thick mist had crept between the tree trunks while they'd slept, blanketing the road in pale silver. The air seemed eerily thick and chilly. They'd taken their time to get dressed, pulling on clothes with almost begrudging slowness. Victoria fumbled about for socks whilst Theresa pulled a dress over her underclothes and slowly twisted her hair into a bun. Trying to make her half-asleep brain figure out how waistcoats worked, Victoria edged around Reaver, and his attempts at finding a clean shirt, and stepped out of the caravan. She immediately froze. A half dozen or so baskets and sacks had been dropped in a small pile just outside the edge of the wards.

The fog in her brain lifted and she yanked on her waistcoat as she crept up to the pile. The sacks and baskets looked old, but well-mended. Had they been empty, Victoria suspected they would have fit within each other nicely. She didn't trust them. Anything could be inside: small creatures, explosives, snakes, spells...the real problem, she realised, was that she didn't understand who would leave them something like this.

"Oh?" Reaver murmured from just behind her. Victoria started, not having heard him approach. "And whatever could this be?"

"I don't know," Victoria replied, crouching down as though that would somehow make the contents more apparent.

"Perhaps opening it would answer that question, hmm?"

She frowned up at him, not appreciating the sarcasm in the moment. "Right, and what if it's something harmful?"

"I highly doubt someone went out of their way just to set up an elaborate trap at our front door."

You don't know that, though. That said, there was no evidence he was wrong either. Sighing heavily, Victoria carefully reached out and flipped open the nearest basket, yanking her hand back as quickly as possible. There was no need.

Dried fruits lay within, neatly organized by type. Intrigued, Victoria began searching through the others. Dried vegetables, beans, and wild rice. Seeds, grains, and oats. Cured meats. Where did all this come from? she wondered, staring down at the array. It wasn't a lot, but the assortment was surprising and more than enough for a couple days.

Reaver had crouched down beside her, watching the reveal with a sort of detached interest that usually made her wonder just how sober he was. This time, however, he seemed to actually be thinking things through. Considering his options. He abruptly turned a sly half-smile in her direction, dark blue eyes seeming to stare right through her. "Well, look at you," he purred, playfully light. "Making friends, are we? Out having adventures whilst the rest of us poor fools are sleeping? Well, go on. Regale us with tales of your exploits."

Victoria shook her head, carefully covering the foodstuffs up again. "You make it sound like I was doing something filthy."

"It's not as though I know what you were doing with your new friends; it could have been anything."

"Moving on," Victoria muttered, returning her focus to the items before her. Now that he'd pointed it out, it seemed obvious that the only place they could have come from was the goodfellows—though that raised questions of where they had gotten it, but...that was for another time. Yes, she didn't need to worry about it now. She stood up, repressing a yawn. "Are you going to help me take these in or are you going to hitch Satyr?"

"The horse, obviously," he scoffed, also rising. "What do I look like, love? A peasant?"

"In that outfit? Close enough."

Smiling at the offended gasp that met her words, she bent to carefully stack the baskets. Piling the sacks on top, she lifted them into her arms and made her way back to the caravan. Theresa had already settled herself onto the driver's seat, smoothing her skirts down. A pleasant smile had settled about her lips and Victoria couldn't help but wonder why. She wasn't certain she wanted to ask, however, and focused on her task. The largest of the crates inside had plenty of empty space and Victoria carefully organized her bounty within. Deciding it was settled enough, she closed the back of the caravan and made her way around to the driver's seat...only to find Reaver already sitting there.

"Are we honestly going to bicker about who gets to drive?" Victoria queried, dropping the wards with a gesture. She tried to keep her words light and playful, almost teasing.

Reaver simply cocked a brow. "I wasn't aware we could bicker without exchanging words. It appears I am behind on current trends; but no. We're not. You drive too slowly and I was under the impression we wanted to reach this...Willstone quickly."

"I don't drive slowly," Victoria tsked, pulling herself up into the seat beside him. "I drive safely."

The only response he deigned to give her was an amused snort before cracking the reins and coaxing Satyr into motion.

The mist and a chill still clung to the ground, adamantly refusing to dissipate as the sun began its ascent. As they drove, the luminous mushrooms of the previous night had dimmed their glow, looking almost average (if rather large) in appearance. The air felt like it was growing damper. Her hair felt sticky against the back of her neck and her clothes uncomfortable. Every once in a while, she thought she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye, but, despite Reaver's near constant prattle, neither of her companions mentioned it. Victoria made an effort to put it from her mind, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone. Who am I kidding, no one's alone in this forest.

You are never alone anywhere, child. We are here.

Um...thank you...I suppose?

The hobbe village was empty and silent when they reached it, still abandoned much to Victoria's pleasure. She could feel the questioning glances being sent in her direction though—Theresa and Reaver enquiring exactly what had happened but not willing to ask—but they passed through without incident. A river rushed alongside the road at the far end of the town, filling the air with a soft spray of water droplets. Glittering in the wan light. Empty remnants of houses and overturned mining carts greeted them along the path, all long disused. Splinters of fences and gates long choked by vines. Broken lanterns, cold and oil-less. No signs of life but that which had been left behind. The hobbes must have been here a while. Long enough to scare all the humans away. But why was an answer she knew she'd never get. She'd never heard of hobbes being so bold. Red caps, certainly, but those were a rarity nowadays. Mostly the hobbes kept to the mountains and were only a danger to those traversing them. Or the sewers, but that was another thing entirely.

They followed the river, twisting and bending through crevasses and around trees that blotted out the sky. It was sometime around noon that they received the first sign that they were not alone. They had just reached a fork in the road and were debating which path seemed a likelier option, when Victoria spotted something glittering amidst the branches of the left path. With every breeze, it seemed to sway gently.

"Reaver, turn left," Victoria murmured, trying and failing to get a better look at what it was.

"But why—"

"I think someone's left us a present."

He didn't reply, just tutted and directed Satyr forward until Victoria asked him to stop. Something golden was swinging from a low-hanging branch just out of her reach. Victoria frowned, wishing she had elected to sit on the opposite side of the bench.

"Theresa, do you think you could reach it?" she enquired, wondering a moment too late why she didn't just ask Reaver to get it when he was closer.

"I can try, Hero," Theresa assured her almost gently. She carefully stood and reached up, fingers fumbling slightly with the cord before she was able to remove it. Cradling it in her worn hands, she sat back down and passed it along to Victoria. "Such a curious thing to find hanging from a tree."

"Yes, it's not like a fruit or flower at all," Reaver replied dryly.

Victoria wasn't paying attention. Fingers tracing over the old gold, brushing the dirt away, she huffed a laugh. "It's a chess piece; a pawn."

"Yes, but what is it doing here?"

"Guiding our path," Theresa cut in as Victoria slipped the chess piece into her bag. With an odd smile, she added: "There are beings here that know our path better than we do. It appears they've seen fit lead us to our destination.

"Or into a trap," Reaver grumbled, frowning deeply.

"We won't know until we get there," Victoria replied, gently resting a hand on his knee.

He stiffened at first, clearly displeased, before finally relaxing. Placing a hand atop hers, he ushered Satyr into motion again.

It continued on like this for hours. Through brambles and ferns and muddy roads they travelled and, every time the path diverged from itself or seemed in anyway unclear, they would find a new trinket to guide them onwards. A scarlet handkerchief, a pair of enamelled combs, several glittering necklaces, a worn compass on a leather strap, several small statues of the Old Gods, an ancient-looking amulet; the list grew longer with every stop. Everything was passed around once before Victoria put it into her bag for later perusal and, eventually, Reaver's frown faded and he seemed to be accepting this turn of events with exasperated grace.

The path slowly grew rockier, narrower, as waterfalls and small ponds crowded the edges of the road. Moss and lichen hung in curtains over the cliffs and falls and the air had taken on a thick, muggy quality. The trees were steadily growing stranger, too—just as sturdy, but gnarled and somehow sinister.

Victoria had drowned out the conversation of her companions, focusing on the world around her. She kept seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, hearing rustling from things that just weren't there. It's probably just the vines, she told herself, watching as the thick tendrils slunk out of the way for the cart to pass. But, whenever they stopped, she thought she saw more tracks in the mud than there ought to have been. She could feel something, as well; a presence lingering just out of reach. I can hardly wait to get out of this forest. If only they could find the Willstone quickly.

They passed into an enormous tunnel, large enough to fit a house comfortably in, and Victoria found herself being pulled back to reality. A warm glow came from ahead, illuminating the cavern in a gentle light. They turned a corner. Victoria fought back a gasp even as Reaver muttered an oath. Lava was flowing freely from a crack in the cave's wall, pouring like water into a pit they couldn't see the bottom of. Even at this distance, they could feel the heat as though they were standing next to a fire.

"Theresa," Victoria began slowly, an awful epiphany striking her, "this place we're going, it…doesn't have anything to do with a volcano, does it?"

"I cannot say," Theresa admitted after a moment's hesitation. Seated closest to the heat, she shifted uncomfortably, adjusting her skirts and blindfold.

"Can't or won't?" Victoria pressed, suddenly alarmed.

Theresa inhaled sharply. "I would like to give you a definitive 'no' as an answer, but it is referred to as the Forge of Fire and I can think of no other way fire could be forged."

She had said it very reasonably—as though this were a minor inconvenience she didn't want to consider possibly happening. Victoria, on the other hand, barely kept from groaning in annoyance.

"Well…it's a good thing I've practice with ice spells," Victoria replied dryly before Reaver could start complaining.

Theresa offered her a hesitant smile. "Yes, quite."

Their feigned optimism did nothing to dissuade Reaver and he kept up a continuous tirade under his breath as they travelled. Muttering about scamps hiding information and no one telling him important details before they dragged him into their messes. At one point, Victoria thought she caught something about a monkey, but decided that was unlikely. Why would Reaver be complaining about monkeys? He didn't stop until they'd taken a break to clear Satyr's hooves and get everyone a quick meal.

It was going to be dusk soon, Victoria realised as she tore a bit of bread from the piece in her hand. They had maybe a couple hours left of daylight before the land was swallowed by darkness once more. She considered telling the others they should call it a night and make for the Forge in the morning. However, from their camp she could see towering cliffs and ancient machinery illuminated by a soft orange glow. It wasn't very close, but it wasn't exceedingly far, either. They could be to the Forge and back quite quickly if they were careful and made good use of their time. Let's get this done as quickly as possible, she decided, swallowing a mouthful of her snack.

"Victoria," Theresa called, waiting until she had joined her to continue: "I am afraid you both must go alone. I would be hindrance to you and, as you know, speed is of the essence."

Victoria glanced over at where Reaver was changing into something a little more appropriate for a possible battle and then back before nodding. "I understand. We'll try to be quick, but I'm not sure how well I'll be able to handle whatever the Forge has waiting."

"I'm certain you will find yourself well-suited to it, Hero."

The trek up to the Forge wasn't as far as Victoria had thought it would be, but it was immensely hotter. As they passed through canyons and under the burnt, blackened husks of dead trees, cracks in the ground had opened to reveal pools of lava. Cogs and gears sat frozen and immobile over their heads as they approached the temple, casting looming shadows over the road. Thick chains dangled from the cliff faces and Victoria could hear the far off rattle of machinery.

"Did it ever occur to you that this mountain could erupt with us on it?" Reaver finally enquired, frowning to himself. He'd been grumpy since they'd left the camp, insisting this was a fool's errand.

Victoria shook her head. As tempted as she was to agree with him, she also knew they needed to hope for something good to come out of this. "I'm more concerned about the magicks we might face than the mountain itself."

"Yes, well…I'm sure that will make a lovely sentiment for when we lie burning atop molten rock."

She ignored the shrewd glance he directed at her, making an effort to walk faster. She was tempted to point out that someone who was so concerned about catching fire oughtn't to have elected to wear such a thick jacket around lava, but eventually decided it would have been pointless. It was far too late.

They soon found themselves surrounded by ancient pillars and stone walls. Lava flows poured from what almost looked like fountains, disappearing below ground. The air was thick and putrid, stinging Victoria's eyes. It was almost eerily quiet. I feel like we should have run afoul of something by now.

Do not be so eager, child, the Crawler replied, stretching. You do not yet know what lies in the darkness.

A loud crack drew her attention and she turned her gaze down. Old bones littered the ground, blackened by heat and half-buried in the dirt.

"It appears we're not the first to attempt this endeavour," Reaver observed, nudging a femur with the toe of his boots.

"No. Hopefully no one's been successful before us, either." She tried to ignore the voice in her head that was declaring there were worse things to end an adventurer's life in this forest than this Forge—worse things yet to have brought bones here.

Warily, they continued on. The Forge itself loomed up ahead, higher atop the mountain than they were and illuminated in a warm glow. In contrast, the machinery around them was silent and cold. All turned off. Chains clanked mournfully in the heated wind, dangling from lifeless gears. If not for the long-dead vines sprawling over the walls and the bones littering the floor, it was a scene she would have expected afterhours from a modern steel factory, not the Old Kingdom. And yet, with every step, she could feel the pull of Will growing stronger.

Will wasn't the only thing getting stronger, the heat was as well. As they passed over a stone bridge, she realised why: lava flowed freely beneath them, heat soaking into the stone. Beads of sweat soaked into the collar of her shirt and her hairline. Stepping slightly closer to Reaver, she pulled on the Will around them to create a protective bubble of cool air. Immediately, she felt better.

"You really are getting proficient at this, aren't you?" Reaver said, gratitude seeping into his tone.

"And yet still you doubt me."

"Oh, no, never again. Or…at least not in the next hour."

Victoria snorted, too amused to care how undignified it sounded. At least he was being honest.

The bridge sloped upwards, twisting and turning amidst stone outcroppings. Heat shimmered in the air around them, glowing wisps of silver. Victoria shuddered and focused on where to place her feet. The bridge had narrowed and, without guard rails, the last thing she wanted to think about was falling into the bubbling lake of lava below. And still the Forge sat above them, sprawling and foreboding like a dragon atop its hoard. Oh, Avo, I hope we don't have need to fight a dragon. If the Enlightened somehow found a way to trap one…. She didn't want to think about it.

The artefacts on her hands seemed to tug slightly at her as they neared the door of the Forge; tingles erupting under her skin in response to the Will. Victoria shuddered, trying not to think about what that meant, and jumped as the clatter of a lock echoed through the small courtyard they'd found themselves in. With a bang, the locks on the door before them slid open, painfully loud screeches of old metal following as the door itself followed suit.

"Now they're just inviting us in, are they not? Tempting, tempting; and yet…why do I feel the urge to not accept their invitation?" Reaver turned an enquiring glance at her, hands on his hips and the fingers of one hand pressing into the handle of his pistol.

"No time to go back," Victoria replied shortly, brushing past him. The hall beyond was dimly lit and, even through the protective bubble, the air felt stifling. She felt more than heard Reaver catch up with her—their footsteps muffled by the growing volume of moving machinery ahead.

The room beyond was like a descent into a fiery realm of Hell. A pool of lava sat in the centre of the room in some almost cruel mimicry of water. It was bisected by a bridge, the stone and metal of its build was more elegant and complex than Victoria had seen in her life. Crudely hewn statues sat like sentinels at odd intervals, some bowed as though in prayer, and the air seemed to shimmer. Victoria had just opened her mouth to bemoan that they would need to travel over the pool when two of the statues began to glow. A pair of wisps darted out of them, flying about as though in a panic.

"Oh! Oh no, aren't those the kids from the Spirit Chambers?" an excitable voice babbled from one of the wisps. Looking closer, Victoria realised it was tinged a pale teal.

"Quick!" the other wisp—an odd shade of magenta—snapped, darting about. In response to his words, the bridge lifted up and out of use. "Lock the place down! How are they supposed to be tested if you leave all the doors open?"

Oh. Oh no. To Reaver, she blurted out: "Wait here!"

The door off to the right slammed down, locking, and it was a race to the other door. The wisps got there first, darting through the doorway. The door stuck just enough for Victoria to throw herself under in, colliding with some stairs as the door slammed shut.

"Oh, don't mind me!" Reaver spat from the other side. "I'll just wait here—melting."

Rubbing at her arm, Victoria pulled herself up and began her ascent up the stairs. It was even dimmer here; dust and dirt clinging to the steps like a plush rug. She could hear arguing up ahead: the wisps bickering over the difficulty of closing a door when one didn't have hands. In spite of herself, Victoria found herself smiling.

"Who are you?" she called out as gently as she could manage. "Are you part of the Enlightened?"

Neither seemed to hear her question. They must have been here alone for a very long time, she realised, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs. The wisps circled and swooped about the room like a pair of anxious bees.

"Don't worry, Finley," the teal wisp was saying soothingly before ruining it with a secretive laugh. "I hid the flit switch! She'll never find it."

"Right, Bob," Finley huffed, clearly out of patience. "Lucky she doesn't know it's hidden or anything."

Where would I hide a flit switch? Victoria thought, glancing around. The room was small: one wall covered in gears and moving bits and pieces that didn't make a lick of sense to her. The wall opposite was open to the room she and Reaver had entered through and the wall before her bore a trio of presses.

"Yes, but she has to find it first!" Bob insisted as Victoria glanced behind her to make sure there was nothing but stairs there.

The moving bits would make accessing a flit switch too difficult (even without hands) and there was no point to coming this way if Bob had hidden the flit switch somewhere else in the room. The presses, then. She stepped up to one and carefully gave it a tug downward. Even if the fingerless gloves she'd pulled on earlier kept her palms safe, she winced at the feel of hot metal against her fingers. The press lifted as she released it and found nothing waiting for her. One of the other two. Grabbing ahold of a press in each hand, she tugged them both down together, earning an exclamation of surprise from Bob. This time, when the presses lifted, a flit switch was seated neatly on one. Grinning, she pushed a bit of Will at it and then added a bit more as the switch darted away. It vanished behind a massive pair of cogs, apparently springing them to life, and Victoria felt a rush of relief. If this was all the Forge was going to throw at her, then maybe she had been wrong to worry about it so much.

"Did you see that, Finley! I knew she'd do well; I did! From the moment I saw her, I knew she would!"

"Let's not get carried away," Finley interjected, voice pragmatic and level. "She still has to find a way out."

"True," Bob conceded. "I wonder if she'll find the ladder."

As she turned towards the wisps, she heard Finley scoff in disgust. The ladder wasn't even hidden, just slightly out of reach for most people.

He is what you call an "idiot", isn't he? the Crawler observed in a tone Victoria had only ever heard from nobles, standing off on the side-lines and inspecting their nails as a fight broke out in front of them.

"How is she supposed to be tested if you keep spelling everything out for her? You're spoiling her!" Finley ranted as Bob tried to apologise for his excitement.

Victoria repressed a snicker and ran up to the ladder, jumping to catch the lowest rung. Inhaling sharply, she pulled herself up until her feet were able to touch the bottom rung and began climbing up. The temperature didn't feel much better at the top of the ladder than it had back on the ground. Even with the bubble of cool air, she was sweating.

"You can't blame me for being enthusiastic! It's been a long time since someone got me excited!" Bob was saying, cutting through Victoria's thoughts.

…no, not touching that. Not at all, Victoria thought, searching for a way down. From here, she could see Reaver leaning against the wall furthest from the lava, arms crossed petulantly. But the only thing she had on hand was a chain spanning the length of the room. I guess this is the way across…bloody fantastic. She looked down, trying not to imagine falling from this height into a pool of molten rock.

"I blame you for everything," Finley grumbled dully as Victoria took hold of the chain and threw herself off the ledge.

There was a sharp tug as gravity attempted to pull her downwards, but she didn't have a chance to be scared. The incline was steep and she picked up speed quickly; the chain reached its end before she was ready and she abruptly found herself falling, face first, onto the dusty stone floor.

Bob and Finley were bickering again, but she wasn't entirely certain they'd ever stopped. Attempting to tuck her hair behind her ear, she staggered to her feet. The only thing in front of her was a wall full of gears behind another wall of panels. One of the gears off to the side was moving, but none of the others were. Right, so…I need to make them all move?

"Reaver?" she called tentatively. She waited for his grumpy acknowledgement before adding: "How exactly do gears work?"

He paused before, clearly surprised, replying: "Are you hoping for simple version or…?"

"Yes, Reaver; the layman's rendition. I'm not about to become an engineer or something."

From the other side of the door, she heard something that sounded like: "Tu me tourmentés, n'est-ce pas?"

"I didn't catch that," she replied truthfully, carefully prying apart two of the panels for a better look at the gears behind them.

He sighed heavily and called out, "Gears transfer power from one part of a machine to another—the teeth interlock to either produce more speed or more force, or simply to change the direction the equipment is moving in." Reaver paused. "What, by Avo, are you doing fiddling about with gears?"

"I'll show you in a minute."

She clambered behind the panels, trying to see how everything fit together. None of it made sense to her. Maybe I should have let Reaver go ahead instead. No, she decided, she would have been too frustrated with waiting for him for that to have gone well. Besides, all she had to do was get them moving, right? This gear looks out of place, she thought peering closer at it. Too far forward to connect with anything. With a light push from her Will, she moved it backwards until its teeth interlocked with another gear's and they jerked into motion. Repeating the process in a few more places set the rest of the gears rotating and she heard the echoing clang of the bridge being lowered once more.

The wisps were oddly quiet as the door unlocked and Victoria clambered out from behind the panels. She was too excited to really notice. They were finally making progress! That was something to be excited about…wasn't it?

Reaver was waiting for her when she returned to the main room, hair and skin damp with perspiration. He shivered, taking a satisfied breath as he stepped back into the bubble of cooler air.

"Sorry; if I could have shared it—"

He waved it off. "Let's just hope your Will can get us across there in one piece, shall we?"

She turned to frown at the lava pool. She wasn't actually certain how well her Will would hold against such high temperatures. "I…suppose we could make a run for it; I have potions if we're injured."

Still, being set on fire wasn't at the top of her list of things she wanted to try. It was the only option they had. They both took off at a run, trying to stay contained within the bubble as they did so. The heat still seemed to be breaking through, if not as badly as before.

Fortunately, when they reached the other side of the bridge, they discovered that not even their shoes had been damaged.

"You see, ma chere?" Reaver said brightly, a lopsided grin twisting his lips. "Not a problem. There wasn't a thing to be worried about."

Almost as if in response to his words, the clang of a lever falling into place echoed above the clanks and groans of the machinery around them. As one, they turned towards the door ahead of them. With a rumble, it slid upwards and out of view, revealing a dim, steeply sloping stairway with no discernible end.

Victoria fidgeted with the cuff of her gloves. "Are you so sure about that?"

AN: Thanks for reading. ^^

Dev. Notes: The goodfellows' gifts and guidance are to do with fey lore. Traditionally, help is returned for help of equal value.