The Soul Forge (12 page)

The elf was over twenty feet away, crouched over what Thomas had to assume was
Etante. But why weren’t they moving?

It was only when he heard the tall elf sobbing that the blood ran cold in his bones. He was next to the elf in a heartbeat, trying to convince himself that what he suspected couldn’t possibly have happened.

“No…” was all Thomas could say as he stared at the pair. What he had suspected was the child’s death. What he found was something impossibly worse.

She was lying on the ground, staring up at a sky she could no longer see.
She looked unharmed save for her left arm. From a spot just beneath her elbow there was a brown splotch that looked like someone had flicked paint on the girl.

It was spreading.

“No,” Thomas said, losing the air that had just returned to his lungs, “Gods, no.”

“I don’t understand…” Morando said through his sobs, “it reached out and just clawed at her. There were so many, I didn’t even see it coming. But it just cut her once… just one time…”

Thomas stroked the girl’s hair, hoping against reason, against logic, that the curse would just turn around and leave her body. As fate would have it, that is not what happened.

“None of my healing abilities are making any difference,” Morando said brokenly.

“Must be the dark magic,” Thomas said before thinking about how very unimportant that really was right now.

Zach and the Keeper joined them, and Zach put a hand on the poor father’s arm. The Keeper said nothing, and for the first time an emotion other than anger passed his features. It was sadness on a scale that Thomas couldn’t have dreamed of in his darkest nightmares, like someone had torn out the Keeper’s happiest memory and burned it to ash.

Don’t let this happen,
Thomas begged anyone, anything. Anything that would listen and save the little girl.
I couldn’t save the farm. I couldn’t save the Capital. I can’t save Verdonti. But please… PLEASE… don’t let this little girl die…

Thomas wasn’t sure if his prayer was being answered, but all he knew for sure was that
the brown mark on her arm wasn’t spreading.

“I’m not bein’ funny,” Thomas said, moving closer to her arm, “
but it don’t look like it’s spreadin’.”

Only the Keeper seemed to heed what he said, and bent to examine the wound.
Thomas moved away to provide him more room, but the moment he did the wound started to spread again. Aghast, Thomas did the only thing that made sense and again put his hand on her head. The moment his flesh made contact with hers, the disease halted again.

“How are you doing that?” the Keeper asked, looking up at Thomas. Thomas could only shrug a response.

“Well, if you can keep the poison from spreading, there may be something we can do,” the Keeper said, looking at Morando with something that greatly resembled pity.

“What’s that?” Zach said thickly. It sounded as
he was resisting crying.

“We… oh Gods, I’m sorry Morando… but we can cut out the poison by… removing the arm.”

Morando looked mutinous, savage. Thomas’ jaw dropped at the impossible suggestion. Remove the arm of a little girl? That wasn’t an option.

“It is better than her
dying
, my old friend,” the Keeper said. Thomas lowered his gaze to the girl’s face, his stomach dropping in uncertain horror. Was there no other way to save her?

Thomas closed his eyes, struggling with the weight of it all. He couldn’t just kneel there forever, keeping the poison at bay. Their time was stretched thin
enough as it was. But he couldn’t bring himself to just cut off a little girl’s arm, either.

“If we cut off her arm, won’t she bleed to death?” he heard Zach say.

“We can cut off the blood flow, seal the wound shut,” the Keeper replied.

“No.”

The latest denial came from Morando himself, who gathered his little girl to his chest. No one else spoke, waiting for Morando to wrestle with his emotions and come to whatever conclusion he thought was best.

“This is but a poison, the same as a
ny bite from a slitherer. We remove it the same way.”

“That poison can’t just be spit out, boy,” the Keeper said, “it’ll infect us next.”

“It’s better than taking a little girl’s limb from her,” Zach said, “let her be young and whole while she still can be.”

The Keeper made to argue back when Thomas ceased the discussion. He crossed over to the arm
and told Morando, “make the cut right on the poison. I’ll do it.”

Morando immediately shook his head. “I am her father, it is my responsibility.”

“I can keep the poison at bay. Maybe – just maybe – I’m immune to it. I stand the best chance. Now make the cut.”

“I-…”

“Do it.”

The order carried with it the gravity of a commander.
It stopped all the discussion and even the wind seemed to cease for the moment out of respect.

Morando made a small cut right where the poison was, and Thomas lowered his head without hesitation.

Her skin was impossibly cold, and as his mouth connected with her arm he felt the poison jump from her arm to his mouth. It was warm yet more solid than fluid, like dried grease. Thomas spat it out, then leaned down again for another. He repeated this process six times before the world started to spin and he had to fight just to stay upright.

“Almost there,”
Morando said, “it’s almost all gone.”

Spurred on, Thomas drained the poison three more times before he felt like he was going to black out.

“Don’t stop now, boy,” he heard the Keeper command. Following the now familiar path down, he drained the last bit of poison and spat it at the ground, finally falling over to lie on the cold stone.

Then he heard the cough of a little girl
, and he was able to smile.

“Daddy, what happened?” Etant
a asked. Thomas looked over at the little girl, seeing her rubbing her eyes as if she had simply been roused from a nap.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re safe now,” her father said with tears in his eyes.

“C’mon, Thomas, lean forward here,” Thomas heard as he felt a hand under his head. He had no power to move, so he let Zach pull him upright. He felt the cool trickle of water on his chin, and realized Zach had brought some for him. He took three sips, spitting them all out to clear away the remaining poison. Only when he was sure he was free of it did he actually drink some of the water.

“How’s…” he forced out as his head started to clear, “how’s she feeling?”

“Much better,” Etanta herself answered, “thank you sir.”

Thomas would have chuckled save for the physical pain returning to his body.
It took more strength than he knew he had to stand, and more after that to start walking.

“Morando, take you daughter home, to your house. Pack whatever you’re going to need
for a long journey and then leave. Take her and just run.”

“No.”

The refusal, just as before, carried with it a weight that left no room for negotiation. Thomas looked at the tall elf, who simply stared at him without emotion.

“We go together, or not at all
,” Morando said.

“Please, think of your daughter…” Thomas said.

“She will accompany us. I will not abandon her, and I will not abandon you. The choice here is clear.”

Thomas’ fists shook in rage as angry tear
s burst to his eyes. “I ain’t gonna have your daughter’s death on my conscience.”

“Her life is due to your conscience. We stand together.”

“Hey,” Zach said, placing a hand on Thomas’ arm, “we can do this. It’ll be alright.”

Thomas sighed, but he eventually nodded.
Morando walked forward and placed his hand on Thomas’ arm, and Thomas found some of his strength returning. Evidently, the healer was, indeed, healing him.

“Well, we spent enough time outside,” the Keeper said, taking the stairs to the top, “what say we repay our attackers in kind?”

Drawing their weapons, the three of them stood side by side by side at the foot of the temple. Sneaking around the back went Morando and Etanta, to find a different way in and, hopefully, to keep them out of the thick of the action.

With a shared nod, they pushed open the doors and headed into the temple of
Verdonti.

The moment the door opened, Thomas wanted to run the other way. Inanis were everywhere, overpowering the elven guards with sheer numbers. Thomas briefly wondered where they had all come from before deciding he really didn’t want to know, and the three of them dived into the melee. The General’s sword cut into legs, knocking Inanis to the ground one by one as Thomas aimed for more surgical strikes.

Zach was to his left, wielding his blade like a club
and bashing over Inanis left and right. The ones that refused to be knocked over he pushed or punched, channeling his fury into a force nature.

The Keeper was almost his exact opposite.
He moved with grace and speed, jumping and pivoting and never remaining in the same spot for more than a second at a time. His blade he used more as an extension of his fist, battering Inanis on all sides.

But their opponents couldn’t be hurt, and they couldn’t be killed. The best they could do was knock them aside for now
, and get whoever was inside the temple out of temple. For Thomas, that list began and ended with Cynthia. On a separate, less important list, was the Chancellor’s name.

They fought their way to the front of the temple, which found one name on Thomas’ list. It just wasn’t the one he wanted. The Chancellor
was fighting with the same commander who had bested Thomas. Swords flashed back and forth, with the occasional swing of the mace joining the fray.

The Chancellor’s courage seemed to be elsewhere, or else it was his skill that had eluded him, because he didn’t last very much longer. His blade was blocked by the mace, and the commander’s blade shot forward. Only a timely fall, saved the Chancellor from death, but his weapon remaining lodged in the mace and was torn from his grasp.

Falling to his knees, the Chancellor held up his hands, clearly begging to live. The commander raised his mace in a clear response of, “no.”

The mace fell, blurring to a streak of red and silver as it hungered to cave in the Chancellor’s skull.

It bounced off of the General’s shield.

The reverberation was so loud it could be heard from anywhere in the temple, and the fighting stopped for a moment as Thomas and the commander sized each other up, each preparing for the next round of the battle.

“You couldn’t best me before,” the commander said.

“No,” Thomas replied, “I couldn’t.”

“What makes you think you will meet with success now?”

“Nothing,” Thomas said, “I just can’t let you kill him. Not until I know something.”

“I’m sorry, but nothing must get in the way of my mission.”

“This time, I’m afraid to get past me you’re gonna have to kill me.”

The commander nodded, though he didn’t seem very pleased by the announcement. Thomas wasn’t exactly pleased by it either, but he had to make his stand here, before Verdonti fell.

Not to mention that as much as other events had taken a more prominent role today, he still hadn’t forgotten the Chancellor had signed the death notice taking away Morando’s family.

He and the commander sized each other up, each one angling their equipment for the best defense. They started to circle each other as Thomas’ companions fought with the Inanis to a standstill.

Their blades flashed together in an identical slash
. Both blades met and repulsed each other, followed by the even louder impact of mace on shield. Thomas’ arms were sore, but he refused to budge. The commander tested his strength, but again Thomas didn’t back down. They traded slashes and parries, neither one really pushing themselves. It was still too early in their fight for that.

They disengaged for the third time when the commander threw his mace aside. Thomas nodded before doing the same with his shield.

Then the two met swordsman to swordsman.

Thomas’ brief training didn’t abandon him as he kept a cool head and fought defensively, waiting for his moment. Opportunities were few and far between, but the moment the commander overextended himself Thomas was there to exploit the mistake.
He even managed to land a glancing blow to the commander’s right arm before the commander was able to knock Thomas to the ground.

The commander brought his blade down, and it took all of Thomas’ strength to lift his blade to block it. One hand on the hilt and the other on the end of his blade, Thomas met the commander’s raw strength with his own
, and for a full ten seconds neither combatant could move the other.

It was the Chancellor who became the deciding factor in their bou
t. Just when Thomas was pushing forward with his legs, determined to stand, the Chancellor darted forward and tackled the commander to the ground. The sudden shift in momentum knocked Thomas to the ground as well, and he looked up in enough time to see the Chancellor run for a side door and disappear.

“Coward!” the commander shouted, jumping to his feet and running after the Chancellor as if he had completely forgotten about Thomas.
Thomas made to follow when he heard a shout that he recognized quite well. Looking up, he found the source.

Cynthia was a level above him, yelling at the Inanis to get away from her.
They, of course, paid this no mind and were steadily advancing towards her.

“Jump!”

Thomas’ shout
caught her attention, and she smiled upon seeing him. With the Inanis closing in, Thomas held out his arms. With only a little hesitation, she flung herself through the open window and into his waiting arms. To even his surprise, he caught her with only minor difficulty.

“I was sure you were going to drop me,” Cynthia said, kissing his cheek.

“Come on now,” he said, setting her down gently, “I’ve chucked hay bales that weigh more than you.”

She smiled, but their conversation was cut short by the arrival of more Inanis. Thinking on his feet, Thomas tossed Cynthia his shield. She would at least be able to defend herself with it.

“There’s too many!” Thomas shouted, “we have to run!”

Heeding his call,
both Zach and the Keeper broke away and ran for him. Thomas led the way out, knocking open the same side door the Chancellor had run through. The doorway was mercifully clear, and they sprinted down the hallway towards the sounds of battle. When the emerged through another door, the commander was in full battle against a number of elven guards. The Chancellor was a little ways away from the battle, trying to saddle a clearly agitated horse.

“If he escapes, Morando’s goin’ to be mad,” Thomas said, running forward to help the elves fight off the commander. The commander saw him coming, and no doubt seeing how outnumbered he was, turned and fled down a side chamber. Thomas let him go. It wasn’t the commander he wanted.

“Detain them!” the Chancellor shouted, pointing at Thomas’ party, “they are here to kill me!”

The elves moved to comply, but before they could start fighting a gasp was heard from the Chancellor. Thomas looked back at the cowardly elf, only to find that he was no longer alone.

Morando was holding his sword to the Chancellor’s throat, and his face held nothing but utmost disdain.

“Actually, they aren’t here to kill you. But if you don’t have the answers I want, I will be.”

The elf guards moved forward, but one motion from Morando halted them.

“Healer!” one of them shouted, “you would help the assassins?”

“Silence,” Morando ordered, “and sheathe your weapons. If you draw them again, your Chancellor dies.”

Trapped with no other choice, they did as they were ordered.

“Now, why did you sign my death notice? What did you have to gain by faking my death?”

“That’s what this is about?
Your precious honor?” The Chancellor shouted, incensed. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“Why did you steal my family from me?”

The Chancellor rolled his eyes. “Because it was what Orano wanted. He wanted you shamed and I was promised a favor or two in return. Orano was a respected commander, after all.”

“Why tell me how to clear Morando’s name?” Thomas asked, approaching the Chancellor. “You knew you signed the death notice. You knew it would lead us straight to you. Why tell me?”

The Chancellor said nothing, but his eyes flickered to the General’s sword safely in its sheath. Thomas noticed, and he too looked at the blade.

“What does the sword have to do with this?”

The Chancellor’s eyes widened, both surprised and angry by his unconscious betrayal. He refused to say anything else until Morando pushed the blade further into his neck.

“The sword… the sword has power.”

“Yep, we knew that. What kind of power?”

“I don’t know
, it’s not my concern. All I know is that the sword has power and anyone who wields it has to be killed.”

“Why?” Thomas asked as the sound of battle reached their ears. The Inanis must have figured out where they were and were coming for them.

“Because… because…”

“Because that’s what the Dark Priest ordered, huh?” Zach said. Thomas whirled towards his friend, eyes
as wide as saucers.

“What?”

“That’s all I can think of,” Zach continued. “He was really unhelpful until you showed him the sword. Then he got excited, he believed the story. He helped. He knew we’d come to the temple to confront him, and then we’d get killed by those things.”

“But we weren’t the quarry in the trap,” the Keeper continued, feeding off of Zach’s thought, “we were the bait.”

“The real target was you,” Morando finished, smiling. “I guess the Dark Priest didn’t want you working under him anymore.”

“This…” The Chancellor stammered, trying to control his breathing, “this wasn’t part of the bargain… I wasn’t supposed to… Verdonti was supposed to be spared.”

“You made a deal with the devil,” Thomas snarled, “are you really so surprised that it didn’t go as you thought?”

The quivering elf had no response to that, which was actually fortunate because at that exact moment the door burst open at the end of the hall and the Inanis came forth, hungering for them.

“Well, that’s enough talk. Time to run!”

Morando still held the Chancellor, and he seemed torn
on whether he should kill him or leave the Inanis to do it for him.

“Leave him!” Thomas shouted, “we need to go!”

Morando shoved the Chancellor aside before kicking the elf in the face, driving him to the ground.

“Orano is next,” Morando said, his jaw quivering. Then he climbed atop the horse the Chancellor had been unable to control, and let out a shrill whistle. Immediately, Etanta pulled open the door that led to the outside world before running forward and Morando pulled her into saddle.

“Come!” Morando shouted, leading the way out. Thomas and the others joined him, sprinting as fast as they were able to get to their horses. The moment they ran into the forest, it was quite clear that Verdonti was lost. Inanis seemed to spawn from the trees themselves, the darkness hiding their approach until they were already moving into the city. There were no screams or shouts, which Thomas thought was ominous. Maybe it was the cover of night that allowed the Inanis to invade without frightening anyone.

Or maybe there was no one left to scare.

Given a mute voice to the second terrible truth, Morando gathered Etanta to his chest and turned away from the city, moving through the forest with unparalleled speed. Thomas didn’t immediately follow, torn being asking about Morando’s wife and worried about Morando’s reaction.

Zach pushed him along and Cynthia took his hand, and
the decision was made. As Thomas stole a final look at the briefly beautiful Verdonti, it was clear that there was nothing they could do.

Nothing but run.

They sprinted through the foliage, dodging low hanging branches and trying not to slip on the leaves they couldn’t see. The Inanis didn’t seem very interested in them, which was something Thomas was very grateful for. With any luck, any at all, they could escape Verdonti relatively unscathed.

The forest ignited around them, and soon they were in a typhoon of flame.
Morando was lucky enough to dive forward, rolling out of the way of the flames. The Keeper simply overleapt the rising heat, escaping as well. For Thomas, Zach and Cynthia, freedom would not be so easy.

“And where do you think you’re going?” a voice dipped
in acid said. Thomas closed his eyes, turning to face the one being in all of Lucinda he did not want to deal with. Standing at the front of a horde of Inanis was the pretend Priest. He held a staff in his hands, though it was different and definitely not as wholly evil as the last.

“I don’t suppose ‘away’ is a possibility, is it?”

The pretend Priest laughed, taking a few steps forward. Thomas drew both sword and shield and stood in front of Cynthia as Zach drew his weapon.

“Boys, we don’t have to fight
,” the Priest said, slightly lifting his staff. Thomas’ eyes narrowed as he surveyed the weapon, mistrust pouring through his veins.