“Amberbeard obtained an ingot of the purest mithril, using the fiery heart of the mountain to heat and shape it. Over a year passed to heat the precious metal, until it glowed as brightly as a sun.”

Chapter 50

Archibald ran forward as fire rained down from above. Great gouts of flame erupted all around him, but the song of battle, the music that flowed and guided him during a fight, led him to dance and spin, leap and slide around the great blazing pillars.

The Bugbear magic users were throwing everything they had against the humans. Scorching energy struck all around them, and the ground quickly became littered with charred and burning corpses.

Flashes of lightning, too quick to dodge or react to for most present, crackled and boomed as it leapt from person to person, killing several before grounding out into the stony ground.

The area filled with the ozone like smell of Mana, and the lingering energy sent discharges of electricity through the sky.

The humans responded to the magic with arrows fired from long bows. The arrows travelled so quickly, most of the bugbears only saw a quick flicker before the shaft impaled them.

As he moved and fought, Archibald saw a poor unfortunate creature struck by several arrows. The force of the long-range attack had pinned him to the ground, and it struggled weakly to free itself.

A trio of magic projectiles, formed from pure Mana converged on Archibald. Without thinking, he pulled on his Mana, forcing it from his Core to form a barrier around him.

The shimmering field of energy surrounded him as the trio of magic bolts struck the barrier. The impact forced him backwards, sliding on the rock and snow, but he stayed on his feet.

The barricade, only a faint shimmer before, absorbed the blow and flared a brilliant white. The blinding light lasted only a moment, before the barrier collapsed and Archibald continued his advance.

He leapt forward, his feet barely touching the ground as his sword cut and sliced. Wherever he passed, only dead and dying bugbears remained, cut down by his Mana honed weapon. He had refined the blade to an unnaturally sharp edge, his Mana razor thin along the sword.

Nothing could stop the blade, even when his enemies tried to hide behind large stone outcroppings, the blade passed through the rock without effort. He was an unstoppable dance of death, and the Bugbears ran from him as he stalked towards their magic users.

Archibald crouched and slashed with his sword, slicing through the creatures’ hairy legs without any effort. With a shriek, the Bugbear collapsed on the ground. He glided forward and plunged the blade down, silencing the scream.

He looked up, searching for his next target when a large blur vaulted past him. It slammed into a pair of Bugbears who were attempting to flee. A huge amount of dust, stone chips and snow were flung skyward from the impact.

Allard stood over the two prone figures. His axe buried deeply into one as he punched the other repeatedly with his gloved fist. Each blow drove the bugbear deeper into the ground until nothing was left but a soft pulp with unrecognizable features.

Where Archibald was a dancer, fighting with precision and careful timed cuts, Allard was a beast. He lived up to his name, The Northern Bear. He was a ferocious as he fought, ripping and tearing through his enemies with his large, wickedly sharp axe.

Unlike Archibald’s clean armor and sword, Allard’s hulking figure was completely covered in gore and blood. He had a wide grin on his face and laughed loudly while he killed.

Charging past the Bard, Allard hurled his axe at the Bugbear magic users. They attempted to construct a barrier of magic, but the heavy weapon easily pieced their Mana. The axe spun, hardly slowing as it shattered their defenses and buried itself in the lead Shaman’s chest.

The force of the blow lifted the creature from its feet, tossing it backwards violently. When it finally landed on the ground, it lay completely still.

With a roar, Allard crashed forward, completely unconcerned that he was weaponless. He rushed at a stunned bugbear that stood shaking in terror at the large man.

He gripped the smaller creatures in his large hands and pulled, ripping it in half with his Mana enhanced strength. The entrails and gore covered the ground as he flung the dead Bugbear’s torso at its companion, knocking it to the ground.

Walking towards the prone bugbear, he grabbed it by the leg in both his arms, lifting it off the ground. Turning to another group of enemies, he raised the bugbear up and swung it wildly at them, using the living creature as a club.

Shaking his head at the sheer ferocity the other man displayed, Archibald darted forward through the gap the Northern Bear had created. He was intent on killing the shamans before they could cause any more destruction.

He spun and danced, avoiding blows and cutting down his foes as he quickly advanced on the magic users.

Leaping up high, propelled forward by the Mana he forced into his jump, he landed in the midst of the Shamans. He twisted and rolled, his sword darting in and out, cutting and stabbing them before they could react.

One Shaman, overcoming his shock as the sudden fury of blows, thrust his hand downwards. It entered the stone as if sinking into water, burying his arm up to his wrist. The bugbear forced Mana into the earth, and the stone rippled in response to the amount of energy it was supplying.

Archibald, having killed several of the shamans, felt the intense pressure from behind him as the Bugbear forced ever more Mana into the stone ground. The mountain began to shake below them in response.

The vibration became so intense and violent that it felt as if the entire mountain were coming alive. Human and Bugbear alike were thrown off balance, falling onto the ground or clinging to rock outcrops for support.

Archibald recognized the risk of letting the Shaman finish, ran forward and cleaved downwards with his razor sharp, golden sword. It split through the bugbear, its hairy body falling in half from the blow.

Instantly, the rumbling ceased as the flow of mana cut off.

Breathing out in relief, he turned to assess the battlefield. All the shamans lay dead, as well as most of the Bugbears. Hundreds of the hairy creatures lay still on the mountain peak, their bodies steaming in the cold and were slowly being covered by the falling snow.

The humans had not escaped unscathed, Archibald could see that many of their own had fallen in the fighting. He could see that dozens of others were standing, holding injuries or helping each other. The few clerics that had accompanied them were healing the injured, but their Mana would be insufficient for the sheer number of wounded.

As he walked back towards the main group, the clouds overhead started to dissipate.

“Looks like it worked, we stopped the ritual.” Allard said, walking up to Archibald and pointing at the retreating clouds.

“Indeed! Nothing to worry about! We put a stop to these foul creatures and the skies will soon clear.” Archibald responded, sheathing his golden sword.

“I was wrong to doubt you, Archibald. Thank you for the help” Allard said, holding out his hand.

Archibald looked at the bloody and gore covered hand, then down at his own perfectly clean appearance. He tentatively reached out and grasped the others hand. He gave him a wide, tooth filled smile as he did so.

Suddenly, in the distance, a column of fire fell from the sky. The flame lit the area where they stood like the noonday sun.

Shocked, both men covered their faces to protect themselves for the harsh light, before it faded as quickly as it had arrived.

“What in the Nine layers of Hell was that!?” Allard shouted.

Looking at the fading light in confusion, they were interrupted by a return to the rumbling from below them.

The entire plateau began to shake and tremble, much worse than before. As they looked around them for the cause, a large stone hand began to emerge from the ground in front of them. The Shaman’s mana had been successful, despite his sudden demise. He had awoken something from deep in the mountain.