The Soul Forge (11 page)

Thomas didn’t speak out, no matter how tired he was or how very sick he was getting of being swatted at with that walking stick. It took them an hour to learn good form, then another hour to move through the basics at a snail’s pace. Zach swung slowly, he parried slowly then reposted even slower…

If it wasn’t for the fact that
he knew the Keeper was right, he would have walked away. But without training, Thomas would be worse than useless in a battle.

So he stayed, and when Morando returned to find them beaten and sweaty, the elf actually laughed.
But before the look of merriment crossed his face, he looked almost horrified.

“It’s been some time since I saw you whip new recruits into shape,” Morando chuckled as he cleared off a pile of books so he could sit at a table to watch.

“I’ve never seen such a waste before,” the Keeper replied, shouting a sequence of numbers that related to sword strokes they had to copy. Thomas almost got to the fifth one before messing up. Zach nailed all eight of them.

“This one is pathetic,” the Keeper said, pointing to Zach, “and this one is worse,” he finished with an offhand wave at Thomas.

“So they’re shaping up nicely, I see,” Morando replied. Thomas’ eyes widened in shock. How in the world had Morando reached that conclusion from the Keeper’s scathing remarks?

“Hmph,” the Keeper grumbled, swatting Zach across the shoulders for no apparent reason.

“Did you get the death notice?” Thomas asked when it was clear the Keeper would no longer be training/abusing them.

“Yes
,” Morando replied as the look of horror returned. “It took some convincing, but finally I was allowed into the House and saw it. But… it is not as we expected.”

Thomas nearly sighed. Of course it wasn’t. “
And what is it?”

Morando stood up and paced the small space available, wringing his hands together as if trying to restore feeling to them.
Thomas and Zach shared a look of deep concern.

“The letter was not signed by Orano,” Morando
finally said, but he said nothing else.

Thomas waited, but when it was clear Morando wasn’t going to continue he said, “then who was it signed by?”

Morando looked him in the eye with a look that carried something Thomas never would have thought possible: abject fear.

“
It was signed by Chancellor Vontanado.”

If Thomas thought he had seen the Keeper rage before, it was nothing compared to the temper he displayed now. The elf swore in languages both familiar and forgotten, smacking things with his walking stick and yelling at them. For a moment, Thomas had to wonder if Morando’s original fear wasn’t due to the Chancellor but due to the Keeper’s reaction.

“All the years of asking him why!
All the years of him saying there was nothing he could do! All the years of being lied to! How dare he?! HOW DARE HE?!

No man interrupted the Keeper’s rage, even as they all sat at the table staring into a fire that held no warmth.
It felt like a physical blow to all of them. Betrayed by the highest power in elven lands…

Thomas’ head bowed, and he found he didn’t have the strength to lift it again. The Capital, fallen. The countryside of
Ludicra, burned. And now Verdonti, the one safe haven for magic-casters, was ruled by a corrupt Chancellor.

“But why?”
Zach said while the Keeper tried to catch his breath, “why would he strike this deal with Orano? What did he have to gain?”

Thomas shook his head, unable and unwilling to think. Just when things looked like they were making some progress, he was smacked down again by a new bout of misfortune.
What was even the point of trying to win the day when everything was against him?

Unbidden, the image of the Kimpchik’s rose up to meet him, and it was all the answer he needed.

“It has to be something to do with you, Morando,” Thomas found himself saying.
It was the only common factor they had to work with. “Your wife, your child, your death. What did both Orano and the Chancellor have to gain from you bein’ dead?”

“Obviously, Orano ‘gained’ my family,” Morando replied, placing his chin in his hand. “The Chancellor… honestly, I don’t know.”

Thomas leaned back, thinking hard. What would the leader – the ruler – of a sovereign people need from faking the death of an ordinary healer?

But the more Thomas thought about it, the less answers he could think of.

“Then there is only one way to find out,” the Keeper said, drawing several swords from a weapon’s case behind a shelf of books. “We go ask him.”

The Keeper tossed three blades to all three of them, with only Thomas almost dropping his.
The blades were old and scored, but they were at least sharp and by far sharper than the General’s blade. Then the Keeper reached behind another shelf and drew a sword that caught the flame just right and shone like it was a lesser known cousin of the sun.

“Wait,” Morando said, “you are coming as well?”

“Oh yes,” The Keeper replied, heading for the door, “I think it’s long past time I had a chat with our dear Chancellor where I got some
real
answers. Even if they must come at the edge of a blade.

The trio behind the Keeper all shared a look of alarm
before hurrying after the enraged old man.

“Do we need to protect him, or protect people from him?” Thomas asked quietly.

“Yes,” both Zach and Morando answered in unison.

Their trek took them
past the dark homes of the other elves as they traveled the silent streets of Verdonti. Nothing stirred, not the leaves on the trees or the dirt they should have kicked up as they walked. The only sound they could hear was the Keeper’s ragged breathing and the blood pumping through their veins.

Thomas was the first to draw his sword, looking around wildly. Zach followed suit on principle, trying to find whatever Thomas was trying to find. Morando looked at them questioningly, and the Keeper paid no mind at all.

“Something’s just wrong here,” Thomas tried to say, but he found to his horror that his voice had disappeared. Zach mouthed a reply, but Thomas couldn’t understand it. But they all understood one thing above all else.

It was time to run.

They sheathed their weapons and sprinted forward, Thomas and Zach each grabbing hold of the Keeper’s arms and pulling him along. Morando moved forward as sentinel, his elf eyes keen to anything that moved.
Fortunately for them, very little did.

Unfortunately, the very little that did move was a small girl with golden white hair and a star shaped birthmark on her cheek.

Thomas shouted for her to get down, but of course no sound emerged from his lips. Morando saw his daughter approaching and immediately broke his guard, moving to embrace the child. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were in trouble again, the reunion of father and daughter would have been touching.

As it stood, they had little time for heartwarming reunions. Morando knew, and he immediately gathered his daughter in his arms and together, the five of them ran for the Chancellor’s temple.

Naturally, they didn’t make it.

Spawned from the silence itself, I
nanis suddenly appeared in front of them. In unison, Thomas, Zach and the Keeper drew their weapons. The General’s sword sat in one hand while the Keeper’s blade was held in the other, though Thomas couldn’t tell which one would be the more effective. On instinct alone, the three of them closed in around Morando and Etante. They were surrounded and outnumbered five to three, but for some reason Thomas wasn’t very worried.

After all, he had a little girl to protect. And nothing quelled his fear and surged his defiance like a good cause.

The Inanis attacked, but they were slow and their blows were easily deflected. The Keeper was the first to counterattack, laying two of them low with blows that rang out so fast Thomas couldn’t even see what he did.

“Direct attacks will not work,” the Keeper said, spinning his blade in his hand while he pointed his walking stick with deliberate menace.
The only thing more surprising than the action was the fact that sound had returned to them. Thomas wondered for a long moment how, but all in all it wasn’t as important as other things.

“Call the plan, sir,” Thomas said.

“Thomas, strike with the General’s sword. Clear the way to the door and we shall barricade it. Zacharias…”

“Zach.”

“ZACHARIAS you will protect the child with Morando. I will draw their fire until Thomas gets the door open.”

Thomas nodded. They were only twenty feet from the door. How hard could it be?

As soon as the thought left his brain he wished he could have it back. Now his job was going to be a thousand times more difficult.

He dashed forward anyway, swinging the General’s sword in a controlled frenzy, just as the Keeper had instructed. As before, the spots he struck burned with a glowing flame, but they were incapable of doing real harm.
All they did was buy him so time, but that was enough.

Thomas knocked two to the ground, and turned to see that they had been replaced by three more.
Those three descended on him, but he held his ground. The other sword was next to useless against the Inanis, as they were made of wood and it would take a very long time for him to chop them all down. It was only effective in blocking their flailing arms, and the General’s blade wrenched more time from the Inanis.

He heard a shout from in front of him, and looked up just in time to take a boot to his left cheek.
Fire exploded beneath his skin as stars popped in his head and he tumbled to the ground. When he looked up, he saw what could have been an Inanis save for its clear personality.

His assailant was
as tall as he was, and better built. He wielded a curved sword in his right hand with a mace in his left. He was dressed in dark clothing that resembled wood, but upon closer examination Thomas saw that it was merely designed to look that way.

Which meant this man was a living person.

“Well howdy,” Thomas said, wiping a trickle of blood from his cheek, “fancy meeting you here.”

His opponent had no response but to point his blade at Thomas’ heart. Thomas took a deep, steadying breath before knocking it aside with the General’s sword.
He backed up two steps, mirrored by the Inanis commander. Thomas sheathed the General’s sword and replaced it with the shield, which would be more effective to block the mace with. He was as ready as he was going to be.

Thomas had a brief moment of doubt where he wondered if one lesson with a sword was enough
to challenge a living foe. The next moment stole that doubt away because he no longer had the luxury for it.

They moved forward as one, Thomas raising his shield to absorb the blow from the mace.
The shock of it traveled straight down his arm, rattling him to the point where he almost was unable to parry the sword aiming to gut him. The blades clashed in a shout of metal on metal, sending a shock all the way to his elbow. If he survived this battle his arms were going to be so very sore.

The mace swung at his head, but Thomas was able to duck the blow completely. He jammed his blade forward, but it was knocked aside and almost out of his hand by the commander’s parry.

Again, they separated and stared at each other.

“I am sorry about this,” the commander said with a voice that seemed to carry an eon of sadness.

“Well, you don’t have to. You can just walk away,” Thomas said. That would be about the best thing that could possibly happen today.

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option. I am a soldier, and I must fight for my king.
Even if it involves such dishonorable tactics.”

Thomas’ eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what the man was referring to. “
What tactics?”

“Attacking a city under the cover of nightfall, using these damned puppets as soldiers… such things
are unfit for a soldier of honor. But my king commands it, and so I must follow.”

“Who is your king?” Thomas asked. Neither the elves or the dwarves had a king, so the only land remaining would have to be Ludicra. But that was silly to even think about. The Capital had fallen, there was no way…

“You’ve heard his name in the darkness between the stars, and seen him in the corner of the places you don’t want to look.”

Thomas’ eyes widened. It couldn’t be, he had been defeated… the pretend Priest was proof that the original had gone and hadn’t returned.

“I serve King Ofan,” the commander said, tightening his grip on his weapons. “And it is for him that I end your lives and all of Verdonti.”

Thomas gulped, but he wouldn’t be deterred. “I’m not goin’ to make it easy
for ya, sir.”

“Come then, and let us test our mettle.”

Thomas twirled the sword in his hand, making sure his fingers were loose. If there were ever a time for him to fight, this was it. He didn’t believe for a second that the Dark Priest – the real one – had returned, but that was so far down on his list of important things that it was barely even on there. All that mattered was that this commander was trying to lay waste to Verdonti, and he wouldn’t have it.

They met again, mace to shield and blade to blade.
Thomas’ meager experience with his sword was put to the test as he parried blows mostly on instinct and ducked or overleapt attacks from the mace. For every jab, there was a slash to knock it aside. For every swipe, there was three feet of steel to intercept it.

For the little amount of training Thomas had, he actually held his own for a surprising amount of time.
He forced the commander to give ground, blocking every strike and delivering a return with increasing fervor. He pushed the commander up the stairs that led to the temple, closing him in with nowhere to run. Thomas felt sure he was on the verge of improbable victory.

Then
his inexperience caught up with him.

He learned a moment too late that the commander had been feigning, leading Thomas up the stairs. The moment Thomas leaned in too far for an attack, his blade crashing down in a vertical slash while the commander
crossed his weapons to black it, the commander kicked him in the gut. Winded, Thomas could to nothing as the commander kicked him again, sending him tumbling back down the stairs he had just climbed. Finally, he came to a halt at the bottom, completely out of breath and unable to rise to his feet.

“You did well,” the commander said, walking
down the steps to Thomas’ prone body. Thomas tried to rise, but the commander put a foot on his back and forced him back into the dirt.

“But you need a little more seasoning before you’ll make an actual warrior.”

The foot was lifted from Thomas’ back, and Thomas looked up to see the commander walking away from him.

“Yer not… going to… finish me off?”

“It would be dishonorable to kill a foe with such great potential but so little skill. I am here for the head of the Chancellor, not to slaughter the defenseless.”

Thomas might have been offended if it weren’t for the fact that what the commander said was completely true.
The Inanis joined the commander and they marched away from him as feeling finally returned to his body.

Zach was at his side, a little bloody but otherwise unhurt.
The Keeper was there too, though his greatest wound seemed to be his pride. It was only the absence of Morando that gave Thomas the strength to stand.