A blast of flame and rushing air burst from the goblin with his final words. Padric raised his arms against the heat, turning his head away and clenching his eyes tight as the wind slammed into him. A terrible, crackling wail filled his ears, and he squinted back, eyes watering in the suffocating wind. The Flame Binder slowly rose into the air, his robes snapping around him. The flames poured from his eyes in radiant torrents, caught in the maelstrom which lifted his body, encasing it in Fire. Laughter sparked from the wizard’s mouth as he continued to float within his twisting cloud of smoke. Flames shot from his hands, rending Padric’s ears with an angry roar, and the Fire lanced into the nearest Forge Born, their metal bodies quickly beginning to glow with heat.

As the first statues of iron grew white hot, the Fire spread, jumping from one body to the next. Sweat ran freely down Padric’s face as the Cog Yard turned into the heart of a forge. Next to him Torcan basked in the stifling heat, his face suffused with triumphal ecstasy. Slouch Hat stood motionless, his brim curled downward in the blistering wind, hiding his face.

A cry of rage snapped Padric’s head back to the yard. The flames had stopped spreading. The Flame Binder struggled, convulsing in the air, cursing in wordless fury. The tongues of Fire coming from his hands had joined into one and flowed directly into a single Forge Born far to the rear of the yard. Unlike his slumped counterparts, this one stood braced against the Fire, almost crouching, metal arms flung back wide. Another cry issued from the Flame Binder and he strained against his own flames, pulling away, but they held fast to the single Forge Born as if drawn to it.

“What is this?” Torcan hissed.

The Fire radiated from the lone Forge Born, now jumping to the two on either side, then forward, passing from one still body to the next, but it did not engulf them. As the flames reached each one, the Fire diminished, slowly kindling into a single burning point in the chests of the iron warriors. Padric watched as those flames began to pulse, began to beat, and he felt his own heart pounding.

“The elves’ spell,” Slouch Hat said with hushed reverence.

Torcan looked wildly from the husk to the Forge Born, recognition and fury twisting his face. The warlord growled in hatred, slamming his helm down over his head.

“Stay with the king,” he told the eight Red Caps on the steps before rushing down the stairs, battle-axe in hand. When he reached the bottom he stopped and looked up at the Flame Binder who still fought for control of his spell.

“Where?!” Torcan’s voice rang over the howling wind. “Show me!”