Ahead of him, beyond a clearing was a barn, perhaps 80 paces long and 30 wide, that looked as though it had seen many battles. At each edge was a large pile of discarded weaponry and armor, and deep trenches encompassed the entire structure. Moving his way carefully through the brush, he stopped at the clearing and listened, stilling his breath. Smoke was coming through a large pipe near the entrance to the barn. Black plumes were ejected into the even blacker sky.
The sounds came again, the ringing of the forge as a hammer hit tempered steel. The echoes came slowly, deliberately. Dytanis wondered why the dead had no been drawn to this location by the noise, As he moved towards the trenches, however, his question was answered. The living dead had been drawn here, but none had made it closer than the trenches near the barn. Perhaps only five or six hands deep, a litter of rotting corpses were strewn about, piled high in some places. Some had been burned; others still looked fresh. The children bothered the Demon Hunter the most. One looked about as old as his sister had been. He could feel the old hatred begin to return when his senses screamed at him to return to the present.
The ringing of the hammer had stopped.
No sooner had that thought registered in his mind, his keen ears hear the sound of an arrow being knocked and pulled. He moved quickly, ducking and turning, but still felt the wind from the long shaft of the arrow gently caress his cheek. Another hand, and the arrowhead would have caressed the back of his skull. Dytanis used the momentum from his crouch to propel forward and over the trench. He plowed headlong into a pile of armaments as another arrow embedded itself into a shield, splintering the cover of the shield and sending wood flying in all directions.
"Hold!" Dytanis shouted. If this was an enemy, his position was already known, and he would have to use methods other than stealth to win. But if the rumors were true...
He held his breath for a few moments. The arrows no longer came, but again his ears heard something. It was as if someone had slumped down heavily. A minute passed, and Dytanis could make out faint sobbing coming from the barn. He crouched, cautiously crept along the edge of the armament pile, and poked his head around the corner.
Near the entrance to the barn, a large furnace was standing with flames licking the edges. Dytanis could hear the roar of the fire within it. Next to the furnace was a vat filled with liquid, and beside that, stood a large forge. Tools littered the tabletops nearby as well, and sitting in an old and unkempt chair was a man. His head in his hands, hunched over and heaving great sobs into his ash stained hands, Dytanis immediately knew who his identity, but the sobs stopped before he could speak, and the old man spoke.
"They killed them all. All of them. Even my baby, she was only a year. Liandra..." The name sent sobs racking the man again. Great heaves of fresh emotional wounds opened within him, and it was a moment before even Dytanis could speak.
"Hashir," he said softly, but the voice came again. This time, it grew in anger with each word. The sobs were replaced with genuine hatred, and soon it smoldered with the same anger as the flames within the furnace.
"Sodrid, my wife. Gian and Ren, my boys. All of them taken by those demonic bastards. I pray their souls can rest in piece while I do what I can to have my revenge." Hashir stood up then and turned toward Dytanis. The fire and hatred in the old blacksmith's eyes matched his own. He was thinking about his own family then.
"You know this suffering too, Hunter," Hashir said, more certain than questioning. Dytanis nodded and held up his hand crossbow.
"I have my own reasons to make them bleed," Hashir nodded, as if that was all the evidence he needed. He turned then, and strode over to a table that was empty save for one thing under a cloth. In one swift motion, the blacksmith pulled the tarp away, grasped the handle, spun, and released it. The bow flew through the air, and Dytanis took hold of it with his free hand.
He studied the ornate design on the upper and lower edges of the handle. It resembled a silvery lion, mirrored on each edge, and the two reliefs faced each other. The designed continued behind the creature, flowing and getting smaller in size as it made its way up to the upper limb. The knock was made of tempered steel and gold, carefully carved, with runes embedded in the design. Dytanis looked closely at the lions on the handle again; they seemed to have tears coming from their eyes. He free hand touched the eye and came away slightly damp. He looked up and saw a mix of pain and anger in Hashir's face.
"Make them suffer as I have," the blacksmith said plainly, his words devoid of emotion, "give them no mercy."
"Come with me, back to New Tristram," Dytanis started, "we could always use another blacksmith. I'm sure Haedrig could..." Hashir's gruff laugh caught the Demon Hunter completely off guard,
"My apprentice can handle himself well enough. And besides," Hashir pointed grimly to a slightly lit corner of the room, where four gravestones stood, "I can't leave my family to these demons." Without saying another word, Dytanis nodded slowly and clutched the bow. He turned and was gone into the night. A few moments later, the sound of a hammer ringing against a forge returned to the Hunter's ears.
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