“The things I was working on over there… You should have seen them.”
“I did see some of them,” Arkk said. “The lesser servant is over there even now. So far, nobody has come by your workshop to check on you.”
“Not surprising. I wasn’t… captive. At least, I don’t think I was. It’s just that only I and the leader of that place have the capability to create beings like Who. They figured now was a great time to increase production.”
Arkk closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath as he honed in on the artificial construct. She wasn’t one of his employees, so he had to extend his focus on the foundry itself. It wasn’t a problem. Within Fortress Al-Mir, he could see all. What he saw now was the anxious figure of Perr’ok fretting over one of his walking machines. The construct deconstructed it with a precision that bordered on the supernatural—which he should have expected of a walking, moving piece of metal. Her limbs moved with a speed that made them blur. If Arkk hadn’t known better, he might have thought she had undergone Project Liminal.
Every component she removed from the walker went on the floor, organized in lines and rows so perfectly that they could only be described as obsessive. Cogs were lined up by size, screws were set next to the components they came from, standing on end with the tallest on the left and the shortest on the right, and pipes formed a two-dimensional map of the dismantled parts of the walker.
Watching the construct move was something else entirely. Her head remained eerily still, almost detached, while her body rotated around her. One arm stripped apart a driving shaft while the other rearranged some of the components on the ground. Rather than hand the driving shaft from hand to hand, she twisted, moving to arrange the components along with the driving shaft while her empty hand began a fresh assault on another part of the machine.
Who, odd name aside, worked with speed and precision.
Arkk thought the display was both amazing and terrifying. “You’ve made more of it—of her?” If he could recruit a few—even just one would rocket production in the smithy to heights formerly unimaginable. If they could figure out what was wrong with the walkers, all the better. The ones he had, assuming they could get them working, were destined for Ilya’s tower, but more couldn’t hurt. A whole army outfitted with them would certainly help aid his efforts toward demonstrating just why it would be a poor idea for the King’s forces to go against him.
“More implies that Who isn’t unique,” Agnete said, cutting off Arkk’s thoughts. “She is, and she is the only construct that has remained as my assistant. I don’t actually complete any others. The Anvil can complete them on its own before sending them off to whatever jobs it has for them. I just need to craft the Black Box. Which, in effect, is them. The rest is just to allow them to interact with the world.
“Although their shell differs, from those lightning serpents to massive mobile foundry buildings to human-sized constructs, the Black Box is at all their cores. They effectively make up the entire population of the Anvil.”
Arkk hummed to himself, nodding along. It sounded fantastical. An entire population of machines? He had heard about mobile constructs, usually used to show off feats of magic conducted by large groups of spellcasters given how magically intensive they were. But, much like necromancy, they weren’t beings. They were puppets.
“There aren’t any people over there?” he asked before realizing what he might have implied. He quickly added, “I mean people like you and me, not these Black Boxes.”
“Not as far as I’m aware,” Agnete said, shaking her head in the negative. “I don’t know if there ever were, but I do know there didn’t used to be this many constructs. I think the Black Boxes are the Burning Forge’s solution to the overabundance of magic in the Anvil. They consume ambient magic to power themselves the same way we eat a loaf of bread.”
Arkk sat forward, concerned. “Is that going to be a problem here?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on Who and she seems fine. It has only been a few hours. I’d also like to take her outside the fortress to see how she handles it. There is a healthy amount of ambient magic in here.”
Arkk nodded again, leaning back with a frown. The ambient magic in his world was at an all-time low. Both Vezta and Zullie agreed that magic had been much more prevalent a thousand years ago. The traitor gods and their Calamity were the cause. It had never been at the levels seen in the Underworld, but somewhere between.
If beings in the Anvil needed ambient magic to survive, one or two might live fine here. More than that and they could run into problems. He would have to confer with Zullie to be sure, and Agnete after she brought Who around. Following that line of thought, their home world posed a problem for him.
He was trying to undo the Calamity and its catastrophic effects both in his world as well as in other realms. But it sounded as if the Anvil had come up with its own solution for the problem. If magic started returning to its pre-Calamity levels in all realms, that solution would become a problem.
Arkk was a lot of things. He had killed a lot of people, both directly and indirectly. As Ilya had recently said, she hadn’t been able to keep her promise to rein him in. He was aware of that and accepted that, but he never would consider himself genocidal. Yet if he continued on his current course, he could very well be damning an entire world’s population.
It wasn’t certain. Just conjecture based on a single conversation. But, in his head, it sounded like pretty logical conjecture.
A solution popped into his mind.
Fortress Al-Mir. Its [HEART] amplified magic. Just contracting with it made him likely the most powerful non-avatar spellcaster in the world. And it only got stronger as he claimed territory, recruited employees, and spread his influence. How would Who react to an offer of employment?
“How many of these Black Boxes do you suppose live in the Anvil?”
“Hard to say. Could be as low as fifty thousand. Could be in the millions. I don’t know exactly how fast the Infernal Engine works or for how long it has been creating them. I don’t even know if they existed before the Calamity.”
Arkk let out a small laugh despite himself. Fifty thousand was a mind-boggling number to have as employees. Millions?
Now that he was thinking about it a little more, it seemed just a little bit absurd to think he could employ the entire population of another world.
“Something wrong?” Agnete asked. Her eyes, formerly dim embers, now burned like molten steel pulled fresh from a crucible. She cocked an eyebrow.
Arkk just shook his head. “Just ruminations on logistics.”
“If there is one thing the Anvil is good at, it is logistics.”
Considering that for a moment, Arkk eventually shook his head. “There are other things,” he mumbled to himself. Louder, he said, “How friendly would the denizens of the Anvil be if we managed to reopen a proper portal? They attacked on sight the first time around.”
If they were perpetually hostile, recruitment was an impossibility well before logistics became a consideration.
Agnete didn’t answer right away. Arkk took that as a less-than-promising sign.
He turned his focus back toward the foundry, watching as Perr’ok stopped fretting and moved in a little closer to Who. Both had their heads half up the walker’s backside. They must have found the root of the problem. A discussion ensured. Trying to find solutions? It seemed amicable enough.
Was that just because Agnete had told Who not to cause problems? Who was unique—they all were—according to Agnete. Did that mean the first encounter with denizens from the Anvil was just them coming across some machine in a bad mood?
“Anything that disrupts the efficiency of the Anvil’s operations is not tolerated,” Agnete eventually said. “They were going to shut down the portal before I stepped through, but the Infernal Engine somehow sensed me and made them wait. If it turned out that I wasn’t able to create Black Boxes, or was otherwise useless, I doubt they would have hesitated to throw me into a vat of metal.” Agnete snorted to herself. “Actually, I might have survived that—and if not, my melting flesh would have reduced the purity of the metal. No, they probably would have dumped me off in one of the slag heaps and buried me.”
“So friendship and recruitment is not an option then…”
“I didn’t say that.” Agnete shook her head. “Demonstrate some level of worth and you’ll find friends.”
“Worth, huh?” Aside from a potential if logically impossible solution to the calamity of ending the Calamity, Arkk wasn’t sure what he could possibly offer.
“I believe, with me acting as an intermediary, we could at least avoid outright hostilities. As long as you don’t disrupt the manufacturing. Though a language barrier made it somewhat unclear, I was promised some amount of aid when I explained our plight.”
“I probably have disrupted manufacturing by bringing you back,” Arkk said with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head. “Let’s table that for now. We got on a side topic. I meant to ask you how you are doing. You were over there for weeks and I didn’t see much in the way of food or water. Are you alright?”
Again, Agnete didn’t respond right away. This time, she cast her gaze downward, staring at her hand held out in front of her. She had changed, physically, since the last time Arkk saw her in person. Molten metal ran over her blackened skin like thin rivers cutting through a burned-out forest. The dark portion of her skin extended up to her shoulders where it gradually faded out to a faint red color, as if she had been spending a great deal of time out in the sun but couldn’t tan. Her face was similar, though charred around her now brightly glowing eyes.
It looked painful. Like she needed regular application of ointment at the least. She didn’t move as if she were in pain and she hadn’t requested an immediate visit to Hale. Watching the skin of her fingers crack when she flexed and the following stream of molten metal moving to fill the gaps still made Arkk wince.
“I met with… a being.”
“The Burning Forge?”
“I’m not sure. Who and the Infernal Engine referred to it as the Burning Forge, but it didn’t fit with what I thought a god should be.” She frowned, clasping her hand into a fist. “Assuming it was, you were right. Meeting god held little answers. It changed me, then promptly ridiculed me for not being creative enough…”
A little rude, Arkk thought to himself. Though it did make sense. The Burning Forge was, among other things, a god of creativity and innovation. “Changed you?”
“Beyond the obvious,” she said, waving a hand. “I don’t get hungry. Or… I didn’t in the Anvil. Since returning, I feel like my stomach has been complaining.”
Arkk swept his hand across the table in an unnecessary but grandiose gesture, teleporting in wine, water, bread, fruits, and meat. Nothing too fancy. “Say the word and I’ll have Larry prepare a full meal.”
Agnete’s eyes roamed over the table. Reaching forward, she paused before grasping an apple and moved to a simple loaf of bread. A razor-thin jet of flame sliced off one end, lightly toasting the interior. “This will do for now,” she said, biting into it with a crunch.
“Butter?”
“No, thank you.”
Arkk let her have a moment of silence given this was her first meal in who knew how long. He was especially keen on watching the way she sliced off another piece of bread. Except, instead of going for another piece of bread, she went back to the apple. Just holding it in her hand was enough to make a faint sizzling noise in the air, though Arkk didn’t feel particularly hot despite being in her presence. A moment later, the mouth-watering aroma of a freshly baked apple pie spread through the room.
“You’ve gotten better,” Arkk said as she finished.
“More precise. I haven’t needed to control myself. Not in the Anvil. Now that I’m here, I can tell that things aren’t quite as they used to be.”
It certainly showed. Even after joining him, Agnete basically had two options when it came to using her flames—burn everything they touched to ash or avoid using them to begin with. She had been able to control the intensity to a degree, but that degree was the difference between burning down a cottage and burning down a field.
“I suppose my next question is…” Arkk stumbled, not quite sure how to ask what he felt needed to be asked. “Well, do you want to stay here? Working for me in this world, that is to say.”
Agnete cocked an eyebrow, giving him a strange look. “I wouldn’t have returned if I wanted to stay over there,” she said simply, pouring herself a small glass of water.
“It’s just that you had a life-changing event, I understand. Meeting a god, working in some fantastical forge that even with Fortress Al-Mir, I wouldn’t be able to replicate, creating things like Who…” Arkk shrugged. “Things like that change people’s perspective.
“That place… the Anvil, honestly I think it is worse than the Underworld. Constant noise, constant work, constant tone to everything. No matter where you look, everything in that world is the same. The god of creativity had the gall to ridicule me after creating something like that?” She shook her head with a small laugh. “Another reason to doubt that thing’s divinity.” Pausing, Agnete frowned in deep consideration. After a slight moment, she gave Arkk a questioning glance. “Is it strange for an avatar to be so… atheistic?”
Arkk just shrugged. “I’ve met a god. A definite god, not a potential avatar gussied up like a god. Frankly… not exactly what I was expecting either. It was intense at the moment, but in retrospect, I feel like the god of boundaries, borders, and barriers shouldn’t be even mildly inconvenienced by the Calamity. A wave of Xel’atriss, Lock and Key’s hand and everything would be fixed. So what am I even…”
A sudden tug from the link had Arkk trailing off. It wasn’t an immediate urgent type of tug, but feeling anything at all meant something had gone awry. He followed the link, trying to find the source of trouble. Not urgent probably meant not a demon, not an enemy avatar, nor any other direct enemy action against him.
The source of the link was outside Fortress Al-Mir. Nothing to do with Who—who appeared to be in quite enthusiastic discussions with Perr’ok now that they had the walker picked apart. The tug from the link split from Elmshadow, going straight to both Harvey and Luthor, both working separately at the crystal balls. The scrying team alerting him probably meant Evestani or the Eternal Empire were up to something.
“I hate to cut our reunion short, but something has come up. Not sure what yet,” Arkk said with a small frown.
Agnete was on her feet in a moment. In the past, Arkk likely would have started sweating from the sudden rush of heat. Today, there was no heat. Her eyes burned a little brighter and the molten metal in her arms started flowing a little faster.
It was something of a relief that she was so ready to act. He had been worried that things might have changed. Well, things had changed, but not her willingness to fight. “It isn’t an immediate problem,” he quickly said, not wanting to rile her up to the point where he could feel her heat. “You’ve only just gotten back. Take a rest. Please. I insist.”
“I’ve been away for long enough,” Agnete shook her head. “If the Golden Order is still pushing forward with their avatar at their back, I think it is time we send them a little message: I’m not sure this world needs gods.”
That made Arkk’s brow furrow. He supposed he should have expected it, given everything Agnete had said. It wasn’t something he really disagreed with either. Every problem he had at the moment could, in some way, be traced back to one of the Pantheon, whether that be their actions or their minions.
“Oh,” Arkk mumbled to himself. “That reminds me… The Light—or the Abbey? Or the Light’s avatar… Or something related to the Holy Light might not be as opposed to us as we once thought. But they want something from you.”
“Me?”
“Mentioned you by name. I declined to hand you over. Not sure if that means the alliance is off the table or what, but thought I should mention it.”
“Seems like a lot has happened since I’ve been gone.”
Arkk could not agree with that statement more. “I would explain more, but I need to find out what the problem is before it becomes an emergency. In the meantime, the best way you can help is by visiting Ilya. She can fill you in on everything that’s happened, from Prince Cedric’s army readying to invade Evestani homelands to the demon to…” Arkk trailed off, wincing slightly before deciding to just admit it. “We have made an alliance with cognizant undead from the Necropolis.”
“Undead?”
“They’re surprisingly friendly. Love parties.”
“Uh…”
“I promise, they aren’t like normal undead. They’ve been helping get some farms going in areas that were occupied by Evestani prior to us reclaiming Elmshadow.”
“I’ll…” Agnete trailed off with a heavy frown.
“Believe it when you see it?” Arkk offered.
“Something like that.”
“That’s the best I can ask for,” Arkk said, standing. “I’ll send Ilya in. Enjoy some more food until she gets here.” He turned, only to pause. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Good to be back.”
Arkk teleported away, intent on finding Ilya, only to stop just outside her room. Another warning came across his link. This time, it wasn’t a slight tug from a minion, but a warning that his fortress was under attack. He quickly followed the link to Elmshadow where he discovered nothing too alarming. Mags, the commander of the Prince’s army, was hammering a fist on the main tower door, trying to get someone’s attention.
Arkk couldn’t help but scowl at that. While he didn’t know exactly who among the Prince’s army was the demon, he had suspects. Mags was at the top of that suspect list.
Then again, the demon could shapeshift into whatever or whoever it wanted. Who was to say that Mags wasn’t real? If Mags was the demon in disguise. It could surely knock down the door if it wanted. So, either this Mags was human—in which case attacking him might just rip away that protection of not being enemies with Cedric—or the demon was playing nice today.
He wished Zullie or Savren had developed a way to distinguish the demon with certainty. He would have had Kia or Claire just punch their fist straight through the door, sending it back to where it came from in an instant.
On the other hand… it couldn’t attack them as long as they weren’t enemies of the Prince.
Evestani and the Eternal Empire didn’t qualify for that clause.
Had he successfully convinced the demon to turn its attention to their actual enemies?
Arkk imagined he would find out once he met with the creature again. He could only hope it would be a bloodless meeting.