“To Castle Gaunt,” Curdle replied in hushed tones before raising his voice again to address the machine. “You have resisted valiantly, but eventually the pull will be too great.”

Deglan took a step forward, new understanding dispelling his fear. “The Tor,” he declared, thrusting a finger at Coltrane. “That is why you were there. Because of the Flame Binder.”

“Yes,” Curdle agreed. “The wizard’s reemergence in the world beckons you. He seeks to bring all of your kind back. You can feel it?”

The Forge Born was long in answering. “Yes.”

“We would stop him,” Curdle said. “But we dare not try without your help.”

“I,” the halting tones said, “will not fight.”

“Why?” Deglan demanded.

“They told us to fight,” the Forge Born said, its voice slowing and deepening with every word. “And we fought. Others told us it was wrong to fight. I…do not fight.”

Deglan’s mouth snapped shut.

“Coltrane,” Curdle continued. “The choice not to help is yours. But that choice will soon be taken from you, along with every other choice. You will once again be a slave and you will fight whether you wish it or not. And you will kill. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Then I beg you,” Curdle said. “Help us! Together we can ensure your freedom and the peace of the isle.”

“I will not fight.”

Deglan saw Curdle’s face struggle with the finality of the thing’s words. The seer’s mouth quivered, searching for more words. The hobgoblin hung his head when he found none and turned to go.

Deglan looked up at the Forge Born and found no more anger. He was weary and had been devoid of hope for longer than he could recall, but Curdle had believed, truly believed, that a chance could be found within this living iron. Deglan had just watched that hope die. He did not need to wonder who had been witness the day that light went out of his own eyes.

He knew the answer.

“You were built for war,” he told Coltrane, his voice tired even to his own ears. “And war has come again. Our side needs a champion, and the one I would stand with is not here. You helped me bury him, remember? And now you wish to bury yourself.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Go ahead. It’s a useless gesture. It won’t kill you. Won’t even stop you for very long. Eventually the goblin’s call will be too great and you will go. There are two choices here, Forge Born. Help us now…or help them later. There is no middle ground.”