The Soul Forge

by Andrew Lashway

  Thomas’ jaw moved, but no words emerged to defend him. The two other guards grabbed him on either arm, and led him away.

  “Hey!” Anna shouted, “unhand my Stable Boy!”

  “Ms. Anna, run on home now,” Thomas said, resisting just enough to turn around. “Tell Master Kimpchik that I’m sorry, and I hope he’ll forgive me.”

  “But… but… what’ll Mommy say?”

  The guards pulled Thomas away, so Anna didn’t see Thomas mutter darkly, “probably not much.”

  He immediately regretted the words, not wanting the last words he spoke to his employers to be so rude. But as they marched him away, clapped him in chains and pushed him into the back of a barred carriage, the chance was stolen from him.

  Chapter 2: Damnation at the Tavern

  Despite the grave fear Thomas was feeling, the ride to the Capital was actually a pleasant experience. Outside of the small town where he and the Master picked up supplies, Thomas hardly ever left the farm. Now he was headed to the Capital, the busiest place in all of Ludicra! He would only get to spend a day in the hustle and bustle, but at least he would get to see it.

  “Stupid hands,” Thomas remarked as his optimism faded away for a brief moment. “I didn’t do nothing. But you had to go and get me in trouble.”

  “Quiet, prisoner,” one of the guards said from outside.

  “Not like I’ve got much else to do in here but talk,” Thomas said in a quieter voice. He sat down on the cold floor, feeling his muscles tighten. He leaned his head back, his familiar smile fading from his face.

  Now that he had time to think about it, how had they found him so fast? According to the lead guard, it was a three hour journey to the Capital. It had scarce been an hour since his little accident. Were they in the area? Or did they…

  Thomas shook his head, derailing the train of thought. It didn’t matter anyway. There was nothing he could do about it.

  “You hungry, prisoner?” one of the guards called.

  Thomas raised an eyebrow in confusion, but he replied all the same. “I could eat, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “There’s a small village up ahead. We can get something to eat there.”

  “Afraid I can’t afford anything, sir. I didn’t make any money on the farm.”

  “That’s alright, a meal doesn’t cost much.”

  Thomas’ eyes narrowed now, confusion turning to suspicion. “That’s… mighty kind of you,” he replied. The guard didn’t answer, which Thomas was grateful for. The Capital Guards weren’t exactly known for their charity, and the fact that they were willing to buy his meal…

  Thomas wasn’t used to being suspicious of people, but his instincts were warning him that something just wasn’t right.

  They traveled in silence for a while longer, until the sun was high in the sky and the heat of the day caused Thomas to sweat. This was something he was accustomed to being a farm hand, but sitting in a stifling cage was not. He wanted to pace, to move in any fashion, but the chains kept him rooted to the spot.

  Just when he was getting upset, the carriage stopped and the guards unchained him. He silently followed them into a village that looked like it had fallen on hard times. Multiple homes had holes in their roofs, and the children playing looked dejected. There were few adults passing in the streets, and the ones that did shared only snippets of conversation.

  “This village seems to be in a right state,” Thomas commented as his brow furrowed.

  “Hard times, these. People need to work hard to make ends meet, and they just aren’t buckling down and doing their share.”

  Thomas let the comment slide without remark, but the way the soldiers were receiving mutinous glares spoke volumes. In that moment, all Thomas wanted was to go home and care for Lucille. He didn’t know this strange place, he didn’t know why times were so hard. All he knew was how to care of a farm.

  His musings were cut short the moment they entered what Thomas assumed was a tavern. It was mostly full of people who were talking animatedly with each other, but that stopped the moment the guards were spotted. As if a signal had been given, the crowd immediately dispersed and left the tavern.

  “This happen to you gentlemen often?” Thomas asked, wondering if anyone was going to stay behind. No one did.

  “They know to exhibit the proper amount of respect,” one of the guards said. Thomas raised an eyebrow again, both to the answer and to the fact that none of them had removed their helmets.

  “Proper respect is sitting and having a drink with someone,” Thomas replied as the barmaid nervously approached their table, “but that’s just my opinion.”

  The barmaid finally made it to them, but she was anything but collected when she did. It was a real shame, as her green eyes seemed to twinkle at them and her full frame made Thomas sit just a hair straighter. Her golden hair was in a tight bun, and her outfit was just low-cut enough to catch Thomas’ attention. He found himself smiling at her, hoping she would smile back. When she did, Thomas almost burst from excitement.

  The feeling vanished when he realized the twinkle in her eyes was unshed tears.

  “What…” she had to clear her throat to be heard. “What’ll it be gentlemen?”

  “Grub, wench,” the lead guard said without even looking at her. Apparently she knew what that meant, because she nodded and turned to Thomas. The combination of how pretty she was and how very scared she looked locked down Thomas’ mouth, and he couldn’t find anything to say.

  “And for you, sir?” she asked with what may have been a hint of a smile.

  “Um…” Thomas stammered before shaking his head. “I’ll have whatever’s easiest, sweetheart,” he replied without thinking. She nodded and turned away, but she did shoot him a backwards glance as she headed for the stove.

  “You trying to sweet-talk the girl, prisoner?” the lead guard said in a carrying whisper. Thomas couldn’t help but notice the barmaid’s skin flush with color.

  “Just thought she could use a friendly word,” Thomas replied, “doesn’t look like she gets enough thanks.”

  “You haven’t had her food yet,” a different guard chuckled, and Thomas couldn’t help but crack a smile. The barmaid returned with multiple plates and without thanking her, the guards dug in. There was bread and some kind of slop which Thomas assumed were potatoes, but he didn’t want to know.

  The plate she brought him had biscuits, an apple and an orange, and Thomas found he was really grateful.

  “Thank you kindly, dear,” Thomas said with a smile. She gave him a wink the others couldn’t see before heading back to her other duties.

  The lead guard chuckled, the only acknowledgement that any of them cared for what was going on. Thomas devoured everything on his plate in a number of bites, determined to finish the meal and see if he could maybe get a word in with the barmaid. After all, the odds were not in his favor that he was going to get another chance.

  “No one’s going to take the meal from you, prisoner,” the lead guard laughed. He had barely touched his food. Now that Thomas looked, he noticed neither of the other guards were eating much.

  “She get the flavor wrong?” Thomas asked with a nod towards their mostly untouched plates.

  For the first time, actual emotion was shown from the three men as they all shifted uncomfortably. Thomas wiped his hands on his shirt and leaned back. He wasn’t sure what, but something was setting off the warning bells in his head.

  Then all three of them stood at once, and Thomas knew that something was definitely wrong.

  “Stay here, prisoner,” the lead guard said, and all three men walked towards the back of the tavern. Only Thomas and the barmaid were left, and the barmaid now refused to look at him.

  Thomas may only have been a simple farm boy, but he was no fool. Now would be the perfect opportunity for him to run, escape. He could steal the carriage and make it back to the farm and…

  His thought instantly burned out. If he escaped, then the farm woul
d be the first place they looked. That put Master Kimpchik and Ms. Anna in danger, not to mention poor Lucille and Mrs. Lucinda. Even the farm had heard the rumors of what happened to the families of magic-casters.

  Thomas sighed and did the only thing he could do in good conscience.

  He waited.

  He waited for ten minutes before boredom took over and the barmaid hadn’t so much as moved from behind the bar. She was looking down at something, a book maybe. It seemed awfully thin to be just a book, but Thomas couldn’t see.

  “Where’d they get off to?” he asked, but she apparently didn’t hear him. That or she ignored him. Either way, he was incredibly bored and if the guards weren’t going to return, he was going to talk to the barmaid.

  He got up from his seat and made to walk over to her, but immediately her eyes widened and she almost imperceptibly shook her head. Thomas stopped dead, and sat back down feeling incredibly wrong footed.

  Then he saw a tear fall down the barmaid’s face, and any warning bells in his head were completely ignored. He was up and moving before she could ward him away.

  “Now why’s such a pretty girl like you crying?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t run.”

  “Run?” Thomas repeated, aghast, “run from what?”

  Something cold and sharp was pressed against his back, and he immediately stood straight up.

  “Time to go, prisoner,” the familiar grizzled voice said.

  “And where are we going?”

  “Well, you are going to run out of that door. Then my boys are going to cut you down before you escape.”

  Thomas’ blood ran cold, and he started shaking. “I… I don’t understand…”

  “You don’t need to understand. Just run.”

  Thomas stood rooted to the spot, refusing to move. The barmaid’s warning ran through his head, the only thing willing to move.

  “I said run, boy,” the lead guard said, resting his blade on Thomas’ throat.

  “Sorry. But if you want to cut me down like a bunch of cowards, I’m not gonna give you any reason.”

  The guards shared a glance, clearly unsure of themselves. Thomas, shaking in his worn boots, turned away from them and sat back down in his chair.

  “If y’all want to kill an unarmed civilian, then I hope you can live with that.”

  No one spoke. No one moved. Five pairs of eyes stared at each other, looking without wanting to look. Thomas showed no fear, staring unabashed at each of the guards in turn.

  Had they never had to deal with this before? Had every magic-caster before him chosen to run away, only to be chased down and killed? He didn’t know, all he knew was that he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him give in to fear, no matter how badly his hands were shaking.

  Then a rumble sounded through the tavern, a rumble that seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth it was built on.

  “What in the Gods…?” the lead guard said, turning to the door. As if to answer his question, fire suddenly erupted in the door. Thomas fell out of his chair with a yelp as the barmaid suddenly screamed. All three guards headed to the door, forgetting their animosity and remembering their duty.

  They were immediately besieged by men with black clothing and weapons who engaged them in battle. Two of the black-clad men fell within a few seconds, but more came to take their place.

  Thomas didn’t know if this was a drill or a trap, but the fire and the attackers gave him an opening he wasn’t foolish enough to pass up.

  “C’mon!” he shouted, grabbing hold of the barmaid’s hand and pulling her to the relative safety of the back room. He made for the door, but before he could get there the door was knocked off its hinges.

  “Wrong way,” Thomas said, turning and shoving the barmaid back out the way they had come. They instead made for the stairs, avoiding the blades of their unknown assailants. Thomas ran into one of the bedrooms, slamming the door shut and pushing a dresser to block it.

  “Moving a bit quick, aren’t you?” the barmaid said with a rakish smile. It took Thomas a few moments to realize what she was talking about, lost as he was in simply trying to survive. He spared her a brief smile, trying not to blush, as he took stock in his new surroundings. There were no other doors in this room, only a small window leading to a perilous drop.

  They were trapped.

  The moment this thought struck him, the door nearly caved in by a tremendous force hitting it. The door held, but only just. Running to the window, Thomas opened it and stared at the fall that was their only method of escape.

  “If we don’t turn an ankle of break a leg it’ll be a miracle,” Thomas mumbled to himself. He looked back at the barmaid, weighing the options. The door was bombarded again, starting to crumble. It couldn’t take much more abuse…

  “We’re gonna have to jump,” Thomas said, the words torn from his throat.

  “Jump?” the barmaid replied, “that’s a long drop.”

  “I know, but if we don’t jump we die for sure.”

  The barmaid stood still, wholly torn by the options. Thomas could guess what she was thinking, but they didn’t really have a lot of time to deliberate it. Another shove and the door collapsed, and three armed men rushed in.

  “Come on!” Thomas yelled, running for the window. The men were in pursuit, their weapons closing in on Thomas and the barmaid.

  Whether they would have made it to the window or not, they never found out. For at the moment Thomas was about to fling himself through the window, there was an almighty crash and the whole floor dropped.

  The beams beneath them must have given way, because before Thomas could react the even floor suddenly transitioned from straight to down. He and the barmaid didn’t jump through the window as much as they were thrown through it, crashing to the ground with painful impact. Thomas immediately grabbed his right shoulder, feeling a sharp pain burn through it. He heard screams from inside the tavern, but he didn’t turn to see what made them.

  Instead, he reached out to find the barmaid, and his hand fell on her chest.

  “You…” she huffed, “you do certainly move fast.”

  He instantly retracted his hand, his face glowing red. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. I meant nothing by it.” Then, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible, he said, “can you walk?”

  She stood up gingerly, nodding to him once in answer before her right foot refused to support her. Thomas hurried to her side, checking her ankle. Just as he suspected, she had rolled it.

  “Just hold on to me now, and we’ll get out of here,” Thomas said, taking her weight. The two of them hurried away from the burning village, heading to the relative safety of the trees. Before they could make it to the forest, they were stopped by a shout of pain. More on instinct than desire, Thomas turned to face the noise.

  “Please,” the lead guard said. His helmet had been removed, and his face was covered in blood from a large gash on his forehead. “You have to warn the Capital,” the guard said as the blood covered his mustache and threatened to cut off his air.

  “No,” the barmaid said, pulling Thomas closer, “you go there and they’ll kill you in a heartbeat. We should go through the woods and head to the Verdonti lands. The elves there will look after us.”

  Thomas had heard of elves before, but he had never actually seen one. They kept to themselves, separated from the humans of Ludicra by the Great Forest. It was rumored that they still practiced magic there. If the rumor was true, then he would be safe.

  He turned back to the guard, torn. True, the guards were about to murder him and the land as a whole had no love for magic-casters, but that didn’t mean the entire Capital should be punished for it.

  There was a series of shouts that broke Thomas from his dilemma, and he saw a number of attackers pursuing them. The guard fought his way to his feet and lifted his sword, showing in the end his true valor.

  “Please, warn them…” the guard said, tossing to Thomas a strange me
tal emblem that Thomas didn’t recognize. Then he ran forward and engaged the three attackers. Thomas didn’t stay to watch, pulling the barmaid away and sprinting as fast as they could to the forest. He knew exactly where he needed to go now.

  The horse that had pulled his carriage to the village was running around, trying to be free of the carriage that was bound to it. Seeing his one and probably only opening, Thomas ran forward and held his hands up to the horse, humming loudly. Immediately, the horse calmed as it looked into Thomas’ eyes.

  He freed it from the carriage and mounted it, clicking his tongue to direct it to the barmaid. He held out his hand to her, but she hesitated to take it.

  “I can’t just leave you here, sweetheart,” Thomas pleaded, “please come with me.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked. Thomas almost considered just taking off. They didn’t have time for this.

  “I don’t know,” Thomas answered honestly, “but away from here.”

  She hesitated for a moment longer before there was an awful scream that made Thomas’ blood curdle. He looked to see the guard slump to the ground, a blade buried up to the hilt in his chest.

  The barmaid didn’t hesitate to pull herself into the saddle behind Thomas. With a yell, Thomas directed the horse out of town as fast as the animal could go. He heard a number of shouts, but he knew that to slow down would mean their deaths.

  The horse moved as if directed by Thomas’ will, sprinting past streams and trees on each side. They ran until Thomas was sure they weren’t being pursued, and then they ran more. Everything they passed seemed to be burned or burning. It only forced Thomas to spur the horse even faster.

  “Where are we going?” the barmaid yelled in his ear.

  “Home,” Thomas yelled back. He had made up his mind; if someone needed to be warned, it was the Kimpchik’s. And by the look of the destruction, he didn’t have a lot of time.

  Considering how long it took them to get to the village, the trip back to the farm took a much shorter time. It was lucky Thomas remembered most of the landmarks they had passed, otherwise he would have been horribly lost. As they passed a hill and his home came into view, he initially smiled. But that smile faded when he got a good look at his employer’s home.