The Soul Forge (20 page)

“The King.
The King of Ludicra. You mean to tell me that you are the King of Ludicra?! No. You’re lying. You have to be.”

“He’s not,” Cynthia said, “he can’t be.”

“How do you know?”

She didn’t answer him, but something in her gaze made him believe her.

“So you’re the King. You are the human King who gave the order to kill every magic-caster. It was you! You all along!” Thomas raged.

“Yes,” The pretend Priest, King Tiber Odenyt, replied. “Yes
it was. Ever since Chromwell refused to use the soul-ore. Such power it had! We could have done so much with it! But instead, he defeated the Dark Priest, took his staff and locked it all away. I couldn’t get to the Silent Mountains for more without the staff. That mountain range is guarded by a darkness you can’t fathom.”

“So you razed your own country the ground?” Thomas shouted, “turned all these people into monsters? So you could… what? So you could bust into the Silent Mountains and get more soul-ore?”

“Yes.”

It was all Odenyt said, but it was all
he needed to say. Thomas started hyperventilating again, trying his best to keep his heart inside his chest.

“That first night.
The night we broke into the castle, when we got the staff. Why didn’t you take it? Five years it was just sitting there. Why wait?”

“Firstly, because I had to get the spell to create the Inanis correct. That took some time.
And secondly, dolt, because Chromwell placed a seal on his weapons. They could not be disturbed until a threat of sufficient terror had arisen.”

“So… you created the threat?”

“And you removed the obstacle. Your presence alone was enough to unlock the vault.”

“But I smashed the staff,” Thomas said triumphantly, “you can’t get into the Silent Mountains now.”

“Oh, I can,” Odenyt replied, and Thomas’ heart fell. “I just need to do it by force now. Meaning I need every Inanis I can get. Including you. And including the Makers. Now. That’s quite enough talk. Time for you to join the legion.”

Thomas shook his head, refusing to give in. But if what Odenyt said was true – and Cynthia firmly stood by her belief that it was – there was no way he could defeat him. Apparently, the King’s darkness was just greater than his goodness.

He immediately felt a little ashamed of himself.

“There’s something in you boy.
Some inner darkness that is trying very hard to get out.” Odenyt’s words stung, but Thomas couldn’t refute them. It really did feel like something had come over him, something had leaked darkness into his soul.

Meaning Thomas ha
d to get rid of it.

He called for the Keeper’s soul-blade, and the Keeper tossed it to him without hesitation.
Gods, this was such a bad idea. But there was no other way to be clean, no other way to save the day.

“The first time didn’t work. What makes you think the second time will be any better?”

“Just a feeling. I got a little hope in me, is all.”

Thomas stared at the blade in his hand, feeling the familiar weight of it.
It would be fitting if this would be the last thing he ever felt. For some reason, he would have welcomed it.

He would welcome it far more than the feeling of agony that tore into every fiber of his being as he drove the blade into his own heart.
The physical pain was marginal, just the feel of torn flesh. It was as if the blade changed when it entered his body, interacted with his blood. Now instead of killing the organs inside of him, it was burning away the darkness.

Maybe his light wasn’t greater than Odenyt’s darkness, but he fully believed it was better than his own inner demons.

He fell to his knees, the blade setting every nerve in his body on fire. It was pain past belief, pain past endurance. Without thought, without knowing, he pulled the blade out and jammed it forward, stabbing it through Odenyt’s chest as he sat there, stupefied.

Thomas wasn’t even aware of doing it until the pain finally stopped.
In the wake of what he had done there was a body in front of him and an army of Inanis on the ground, all collapsed.

“What… what did you do?” Cynthia asked.

“I figured… my light had to be stronger than my own darkness. Then… well, I guess I stabbed him. I didn’t mean to. But I guess my light was stronger than his after all.”

“No, not that,” Cynthia replied, “I saw that.
I meant what happened after that.”

“What… what happened after that?” Thomas asked, completely lost.

“A wave of darkness… it went from you and went into him. Then he collapsed.”

Thomas looked at Odenyt, worry creeping back into his brain. But that meant… his darkness hadn’t been burned out of him… it had simply… moved?

“Gods, I am so tired of hearing you think,” Odenyt said, but it wasn’t the rattling breath of a voice Thomas was used to. This was deep, terrifying. It made the hair on Thomas’ arms stand up, and every warning bell in his head screamed at him to run.

“Who… who are you?”

Odenyt opened his eyes, and the red irises were gone. Only black shone out, an endless array of night in a face twisted by malice.

“I am sick of holding you by the hand,” the Priest’s mouth said. “How many times did I have to carry you? How many times did I have to point you in the right direction?
Quite a few.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“Tell us your name,” Cynthia ordered.

“Sorry
sweetheart,” was the response, “but your tricks won’t work on me. I’ve been doing this for far too long to fall to that.”

“Tricks?
What is he talking about?”

“See, this is my problem!” the Priest shouted, “you can’t figure out anything on your own. The only thing you did of your own accord was smash that staff into pieces.
Bonding me to you. I was supposed to bond with this pathetic meat suit,” he said as gestured to the Priest’s body. “It’s so much easier to corrupt a spirit already lost to the darkness than it is to corrupt a soul from the start. Then you had to come and wreck everything.”

Thomas backed away, a fear so potent flowing through his brain all he wanted to do was run.
But there was nowhere to go, nothing for him to do. The darkness emanating from the Priest was enough to shut down his every thought.

Gods, what was this thing?

“I don’t… explain,” Thomas said, trying to force a bravery he was so far from feeling.

“Oh, why not?
I’ve got nothing better to do as I plot to rule the world. Stupid King Odenyt. What he never realized is that you can’t simply take over the world by destroying everyone in it. Then there’s no one to rule. What’s even the point if there’s no one there to support you? Fight you? Make the rule worthwhile? Besides, the Inanis curse will eventually fade, and then where would he have been? No, it’s better if we just end them all now.”

“NO!”

Thomas’ shout shook the rocks of the mountain, and the Priest’s body took notice.

“No? You mean to don’t want to see the suffering and torment of these people end?”

“Not if you’re goin’ to kill ‘em all!”

“Oh please. Weren’t you listening? What am I saying, of course you
weren’t. I send I was going to end them. End the Inanis. Infant.”

Then the Priest raised a hand and snapped his fingers.
Immediately, the wooden flesh and dead eyes of the Inanis melted away, revealing dozens upon dozens of people lying on the ground.

“But… why?”

“Gods, you don’t pay attention to anything. Because these are not soldiers. This isn’t an army. They’re just mindless sheep. And really, there’s no use for that. The idiot was never going to break into the Silent Mountains with them. They all would have been crushed.”

Thomas stood rooted to the spot, unable to move but wishing he was anywhere else.

“Who are you?”

“Do you really want to know? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

King Odenyt’s features burned and waned, like a candle that was burning past its prime.

“This body can’t hold my power,” he said, feeling the burns on his forehead. “Gods, how I miss mine. But your general took my body from me. So I had to make due. My staff was made out of soul-ore. Did you know that? No you didn’t. Well, my soul and my staff… they bonded. So even though he burned me – literally – my soul lived on.”

“No…” Thomas said, shaking his head, “it can’t be.”

“And he’s come to the conclusion at last. For those of you who haven’t figured it out, why don’t you inform your little gang as to who I am?”

“You’re… You’re the Dark Priest.”

The Dark Priest, the real Dark Priest, smiled from ear to ear. “That’s right,” he said. “And I’m back.”

Thomas had no idea what thought crossed his mind that made him think it would be a good idea to attack the devil. Before he could get control over himself, he launched an all-out attack at the Dark Priest. King Ofan didn’t seem surprised in the slightest, taking the blows Thomas rained down on him without even raising his hands.

It didn’t take long for Thomas to figure out why.

No matter how hard he punched, the nose wouldn’t break. The jaw wouldn’t dislocate. No teeth flew, and no blood was spilled. He just stood there, smiling grotesquely, as Thomas brought down all of the strength, all of the anger, all of the justified hate that was hiding away in his soul.

Everything was this beast’s fault. The Magi War, the
invention of magic, the darkness that had consumed all of Ludicra., all of it was his fault!

“You don’t still blame me for all of that, do you?” Ofan said, taking a blow to the stomach that did more damage to Thomas’ fist than to his target.

“If you hadn’t…” Thomas panted, “started the War… hadn’t killed all of those people… just for some fake god of yours…”

“I’d watch your tone, boy,” Ofan snarled, catching his fist and delivering a blow of his own that hit Thomas so hard he felt three of his ribs crack. All of the air in his lungs turned to smoke and he went dizzy because of the pain.

“See, look at what you made me do,” Ofan continued in a much more pleasant voice, lifting Thomas by the hair back into a standing position. The pain of his hair being forcibly ripped out was nothing compared to how badly his torso was burning.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to crush the life out of your pathetic little body. Then I’m going to kill all of your little friends. Then I’m going to enslave your people, force myself onto your women, blah blah blah. You know. All of the evil deeds that are whispered about in those books you read. Honestly, I’m surprised you made it as far as you did without me.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t need your help,” Thomas spat, holding his injured ribs.

“Oh, I’m afraid you did,” Ofan replied, letting the boy fall to the ground. Zach took the opportunity and charged forward, but Ofan simply raised his hand and Zach flew backward into the forge wall and moved no more.

“Every time you didn’t know what to do? Where to turn? I told you where to go,” Ofan said, pacing back and forth in the snow. “The death notice for poor Morando’s family? My idea. To learn swordsmanship and hone your skills, my plan. All to get you here. All to get me free of you. So I could be where I truly belong.”

“In the corpse of a corrupted king?”
Thomas supplied, anger now outweighing the pain.

“Hm. Poor choice of words on my part,” Ofan admitted, stopping long enough to glare down at Thomas.
What he wouldn’t give for the strength to fight back…

“
You can’t beat me, Thomas. Surely you realize that. There is no beating me. I am the Dark Priest, King of the Silent Mountains. Did you know how they got that name, Thomas?”

“N-no…” Thomas replied, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

“They are literally silent. Not a sound can be heard. You can hear your blood pumping. It’s maddening.”

Thomas’ eyes widened. He recognized that. He recognized that all too well.
Ofan nodded in time with the dilation of Thomas’ pupils.

“Yes, you remember. Back in Verdonti, when silence fell so completely you thought you’d go mad. If you would return to the Capital, it’s there now. If you went to Andomer, there it is.
The gift of the Silent Mountains.”

“How?”

“Well, the fool did one thing correctly. He did aptly raise the Inanis to do what they were meant to do – spread the darkness from the Mountains. And whenever an area is so completely filled with darkness, silence falls. The light you and your friends bring is nothing compared to the darkness of a little girl turning to a little monster. Maybe we should ask your friend. Ms. Anna, isn’t it?”

“No, you leave her… out of this.”

“She’s been involved in this ever since you left her at the mercy of her uncle! Ever since you shirked them to go and play the hero! You abandoned them, and now you need to see that your actions have consequences.”

He snapped his fingers, and three distinct bodies stood up. The Kimpchik’s looked around, completely at a loss, but they didn’t stay that way for long.
Ofan was by their side in a moment, and Thomas’ heart dropped so fast he could have sworn it switched places with his stomach.

“Here, take a look,” Ofan said, pushing Master Kimpchik and Mrs. Lucinda forward. When Mrs. Lucinda didn’t move, Ofan rolled his eyes.

“Oh I know, your child burned in a fire. Boo hoo. Accidents happen. You still have one child left, and you are ignoring her! Because you can’t get over pitying yourself!”

Thomas wanted to shout at Ofan to stop, but he couldn’t do it. Not only was he incapable of shouting, Ofan was only saying things Thomas had hardly dared to think.

“And they call me selfish,” Ofan said, clicking his tongue in reproach of the woman.

“Now, you leave my wife alone,” Master Kimpchik ordered, his fear betrayed by the high octave he gave the command in.

“Well, it appears we have a man on the mountain after all. Too bad your bravado is wasted on me. I don’t much care, I think you’ll find.”

Then
he waved his hand, and all three of them were flung to the far side of the mountain, held over the edge by the power of the Priest’s mind alone.

“Please… please don’t…” was all Thomas could say, stretching out a hand uselessly to the only family he had left.

“But why not?” Ofan said. “Honestly, tell me why not. I want to know.”

“Because they’re my family,” Thomas replied.

“Sorry, but that’s not right. Your family burned. Try again.”

Thomas closed his eyes, gathering his courage. This was it.
The final push. The final fight. It was here, staring him right in the face. He pushed himself to his feet, embracing the pain just as he did before. It was tremendously harder, but he managed.

“
Because I won’t let you.”

Ofan’s face split into a wide smile. It was the answer he had been looking for.

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear,” he replied. “Come, let us see if you are stronger on your own than you were with me holding your hand.”

As if to accentuate the point, he raised his hand and the Kimpchiks fell.

All of three inches.

Thomas reached out, his hand outstretched and his mind open.
He caught all three of them, using the power of his will to support them. With another thought, he flipped them back onto the relative safety of the summit.

“Well done,” Ofan said, “you might be a challenge after all.”

“You won’t harm…” Thomas said, conserving his breath and his mental strength, “another person… ever again…”

“Oh really?”

“Even if it kills me.”

“You should really be careful what you wish for. But considering this should be fun, why don’t we fight in a realm you have some experience in.”

He snapped his fingers, summoning a soul-blade to his hand. Thomas bent down to retrieve the
other, and both of them stared at each other with a look of mutual loathing.

Then they both struck.

Their blades clashed three times in the space of a breath. They separated, circling each other. Ofan had a smirk on his face while Thomas’ was carved from stone.

The swordfight was actually very short compared to the rest of their battle.

Their weapons banged and clashed for only a minute before Ofan seemed to grow bored with the battle. After the fourth thrust failed to sink into Thomas’ lungs, Ofan disengaged and tossed the blade aside.

“What’s the matter?” Thomas said, “afraid?”

“Really? No. Swordfights are boring. I’m not better at it than you, and you aren’t better at it than me. Meaning we’d be at it for hours and no one wants to watch that. No. I have a better idea of how to settle this. Once and for all.”

“And what do we do?”

“Simple. I put my soul on the line, and you put yours. Whoever’s soul is stronger, wins.”

Without waiting for Thomas’ opinion, Ofan raised his hands. Dark fire sprang up from between them, purple
with hints of black.

Thomas snapped his fingers, and both hands lit in flames.
He couldn’t try to summon any Soulfire, not again, not now… He was much too damaged to even risk it. But as Ofan was clearly ready to start the fight, Thomas knew he had no choice. He had to stop Ofan.

Even if it meant his death.

He
closed his eyes and reached down into the deepest pit of strength he still had left, and when he reopened his eyes the fire in his hands was blue.

With a matching thrust, hands pointed directly at each other’s hearts, purple and blue Soulfire met.

The pure force of the their meeting was enough to crack the ground they stood on. Neither combatant relented, even though Thomas could feel the pain start to set in already. But he had no doubts, no fears. Either he would live, or he would die. There was no other option now. And strangely, he was perfectly comfortable with that.

Even if he died, he was taking the Dark Priest with him.

This battle wasn’t two forces. It wasn’t conflicting views or moral differences. This battle was, pure and simple, between two men. Personally. Just two men and damage that they were willing to do to each other.

When Ofan pushed, Thomas
pushed back. When Thomas tried to redirect the flame, Ofan aimed for his face. When one of them gave an inch, the other took a mile. It was a full minute before Thomas realized fatigue was setting in. This battle was aging him more than any other battle he had been in. Blood was pooling in his nose, threatening to fall at any moment. Though he didn’t know it, blood was already dripping from his ears. He was dying. That much he did know.

What he didn’t know was that the mountain was not going to let him die alone.

No one could approach him, but suddenly he heard his friends shouting, spurring him on. It filled him with hope the way nothing else possibly could. Here, at the end of it all, the people he believed in believed in him right back.

He wasn’t sure he could have asked for more than that.

“You know why you’re gonna lose?” Thomas asked Ofan.

“No,” the Dark Priest replied, “how is that?”

“Because all of these people behind me. All of the lives that won’t live in darkness anymore. Everyone on this mountain who will be free to choose their own paths now.

“Because of you.”

His words threw Ofan so much he almost dropped his defenses. His jaw dropped as his flame decreased in power. Taking the opportunity, Thomas simply pushed with all of his might. The effort caused the pressure to increase in his head until he was sure it was simply going to pop, but he didn’t stop. The flame from his hands jumped across the summit, where it blasted the Dark Priest to the ground.

“Can’t you feel them?” Thomas continued, breathing heavily. “Can’t you feel them singing? Their souls have been freed.
And they look across the mountain and they see me, fighting for them. But I’m not the one who broke the spell. They should be singing your praises. You set them free.”

“I… no…” Ofan was at a complete loss for words.

“You,” Thomas laughed, “you pulled ‘em out of the dark. Step up, take a bow. The brigands, the humans, the elves, the dwarves… you just set the whole world right again. Just pushed it all into the light. The one thing you did without thinkin’ about it.”

“No… NO!” Ofan shouted.
“I didn’t free them for them! I freed them so I could enslave them my way! So they would serve me!”

“Yeah, I know,” Thomas said. “
But the fact remains that you set their minds free, and now I can feel them. Believing in me. Believing that they’ll all get to go home. You’re gonna lose because you gave me the power to defeat you.”

Now it was Ofan’s turn to laugh.

“These people? Give you enough power to defeat me? What are you talking about? You and I both know that you can’t simply feed off of another person’s spirit. You need soul-ore, first of all, to even start. These people pose no threat to me.

“But if you insist that they do, I may as well address that threat.”

Thomas clenched his fists, unsure of what he meant. Had his bravado just cost all of these people their lives?

As it turned out, no.
But it may have cost him his.

The Dark Priest raised his hands
, and the snow around them fell on what seemed to be a dome composed entirely of air. Thomas understood the purpose immediately; he was cut off from his friends, from his family.

He was alone.

The Dark Priest sent a shout of fire his way, but Thomas ducked it and sent back one of his own. Encased in the dome, nothing they shot at each could escape.