"Strongblade´s End" by Erik Jensen

Tereneth Strongblade was a weapon's engineer for the Valorian army. He had served as one from he was 19 until a few years ago. Now he was 47. He had retired honourably to a small village by the name of Esrem, which means "Island."

Not far from the Iron Mountains as it was, Esrem had daily visits by Red Kite patrols. These also checked in on Tereneth, since he still worked with experiments on a new type of alloy for wallbreaker bolts. Tereneth's home was a large stone building, which also contained his smithy. He served as the village smith in addition to his tinkering.

This day was beautiful. It was after mid summer and the golden wheat made wavelike motions in the wind, explaining Esrem's name. But Tereneth was worried. The 'Kite patrol had not arrived yesterday, and he had seen nothing of them today either. Something was wrong. He was not worried about orc raids at this time of year, so he was not sure what could have gone wrong. The rest of the villagers were gathered in the church, but Tereneth had to defend his smithy. A resourceful opponent could unlock many mysteries of Valorian weapon technology from a careful look at what he used here.

Tereneth was capable of using the weapons he created, although he considered himself no marksman. He sat without motion in a corner of the smithy that could not be observed from the outside. He had three heavy crossbows with him, and two of them were loaded. He unloaded one and loaded the next every five minutes or so. Apart from that he waited.

He sensed movement outside. He heard the characteristic sound of someone moving in metal armour. He was fairly certain that this was no Red Kite, since they wore only light armour on their patrols. He silently raised a heavy crossbow, pointing it at the door.

The sound of footsteps in heavy boots mingled with the sound of the armour. He could only guess at three or four people moving. The sounds stopped outside his door. Tereneth wiped the sweat from his brow to insure that he would have clear sight once he had to shoot. He glanced at the sword that lay unsheathed on the ground. He had never used a sword against a mortal enemy, and hoped he would not need to now.

He seemed to hear whispers outside, definitely not Valorian. He steeled himself for the shot, and then the door opened. Nobody was there. At first Tereneth thought that the enemy must have opened the door without being in front of it, but soon realized his mistake. He heard the metallic sound of a sword being drawn, and the sound came from inside the room. He was dealing with opponents with magical abilities. He immediately lifted the trigger, and he felt the tense steel unfold the energy that was stored in it. He felt the bolt rush forward at an incredible speed, and saw it strike thin air, as if it hit a person square in the chest. A throaty gasp escaped the target, and then the sound of a man falling on the floor emanated. All Tereneth could see was the bolt and the blood that ran out on the floor.

He grabbed the next crossbow and aimed at the door. He listened intently, knowing that this was his chance of detecting his enemy. Many hours by the forge, with the ringing of the hammer on steel, had dulled his hearing, though, and his enemy sneaked in on him.

Being invisible, the enemy did not see his cloak brush against the forge, stirring up a minuscule amount of dust. Tereneth did, however, and he wasted no time in firing the second bolt where he guessed that his enemy was. At this short range, the heavy bolt went straight through its target and imbedded itself in the wall across the room. Tereneth dropped the crossbow and grabbed his sword, and pressed himself up in the corner.

A man stepped through the door. His armour was a dulled steel colour, the armour Tereneth heard before. It was plating on a chain backing, a heavy type of armour for a foot soldier. His face was a grimace of anger. He was a tall, powerfully built man in his early thirties, but Tereneth could not tell his hair colour for the helm. The man had a white cloak on, to shield his armour from the burning sun, and he threw it to the ground as he drew his sword.

Without the time to load another crossbow before the dark warrior reached him, Tereneth realized that he would most likely be no match for this younger, stronger man in full battle attire. He grabbed a crossbow and a bolt, and manoeuvred to keep the forge between himself and the enemy. The dark man immediately saw the danger and moved to attack. Tereneth's hands worked with a calm that came from years of routine as he started to load the crossbow. He wished it had been lighter, since it was next to impossible to load it without putting it to the ground and using a foot for support. Tereneth was older than his enemy and not nearly as fast. On the other hand, he was not wearing heavy armour. He prayed to Palantharis that he would not fail his responsibility, as he struggled to keep the dark man from gaining on him. And just then, the dark warrior stumbled and fell over one of his friends' invisible body.

Tereneth set the crossbow down, and yanked the string back the last bit, with a satisfying click to inform him that he was now successful. He raised it at his onrushing enemy and lifted the trigger. The crossbow was a true masterpiece, as was the bolt. Tereneth had laboured for months to construct these test crossbows, and their power was impressive. The bolt sprang forth, punching straight through the steel plate, and then through three layers of steel chain, imbedding itself deep in the chest of the enemy, stopping him dead in his tracks. With his last strength, the man grabbed hold of the bolt and tried to tear it from his body, with an expression of vile fury on his face. Before he managed to get the bolt out, his legs gave up, and he fell to the ground with a metallic clang.

Still breathing heavily, Tereneth leaned on his forge, relieved. He sent a prayer of thanks, and then lifted his gaze to look at the golden fields of wheat. But all he saw was a tall man with jet-black beard and hair staring at him. The man wore a dark blue robe, and he had a gnarled oak staff in his hands. Even as fear intruded on him, Tereneth blamed himself for forgetting the one who had made the first men invisible. And then the Valorian part of him came back: of course, it would be a dastardly wizard who would steal his technology. His lips frowned, and his mind steeled for the grizzly death he knew he would soon experience. His right hand grabbed the hammer on the forge, and he moved forward as fast as he could, the hammer over his head. The wizard spoke a single whispering word, and pointed to Tereneth, who felt himself being lifted off the floor. He angrily threw the hammer at the wizard, who mumbled another word, and the hammer seemed to hit a wall, and fell to the ground. Tereneth struggled to regain some sort of control of his own body, but to no avail. The wizard mumbled a series of words and made arcane gestures. Three small balls of bright yellow appeared before him, and darted towards Tereneth. The pain they caused was incredible, as Tereneth Strongblade perished.