To the Stars End- Original Soul

by Demetri Grim

  “Why Uncle? Why? Why did you have to come home? Stupid. Jerk. Idiot.” She started to cry again. Not caring about her state she sobbed harder. Turning her blurry vision to her hands she almost lost it all over again. Her hand still clutched the hammer in a white knuckle deathgrip. It was covered in blood. The once silver hammerhead was clotted with thick red gore. Anger flared inside herself and she made to throw it away but stopped just short of release. Her arm trembling as it held the hammer aloft. “No... It’s not my fault. He made me do it! I won’t throw it away. I can’t! Its all I have left of him... of them!” She broke down again into a fit of rasping sobs before pain lanced into her mind and she arched backwards from the jolt of cold ice that ran along her spine accompanying the headache. Once more the last of the commands flashed into her vision with an angry blue light. “Gods damn you! Alright! Enough!” She cried and staggered to her feet. Slowly she made her way down the broken stairs. She kept her face turned away from her uncle’s crumpled form, pressing herself hard against the wall until she rounded the corner away from the gruesome sight.

  Moving into the forge she saw her uncle had pulled the mannequin from the flames. It now sat smoldering against the anvil. The ember of Ironwood flickered still with a small flame inside the open grate of the forge. Listlessly she staggered to the tool rack, one hand still clinging to the hammer as she retrieved a pair of tongs. Fishing out the ember of ironwood from the forge she held it out in front of her. Her mind drifted away. She felt like she was going numb, as she watched the curls of red light course and writhe over the ember. She could not feel anything. Her tears beginning to dry on her cheeks as she wiped her face with a bit of wool cloth hanging near the anvil. It was awkward to do with the hammer still gripped tightly in her fist but she would not release the enchanted hammer, not until she put it to use one more time.

  Every inch of her body was cold… For just a moment she considered reaching out to take the ember into her palm. Its warmth must feel so good… She shook her head. Dragging her spiraling thoughts away from the darkness that was attempting to take over her. “I have to survive this. I have to live. If only to make the Master pay!” She hissed and screamed as she flung the coal and tongs towards the shelving on the far wall. The many lacquers and leathers they kept on the shelves ignited almost instantly with the coal’s heat. She watched as the flames slowly grew, engulfing the shelf in angry red light. Bringing up the list of commands to the center of her vision she looked through them, her gaze catching the light of the growing fire. “There... is that enough of a fire you bastard? A stray coal must have accidentally caught the lacquer on fire. That fulfills your command doesn't it!” Her voice was hoarse and hollow as she spoke, the hand holding the hammer trembling slightly. The commands flickered, almost as if shying away from the fires beyond that grew brighter with every passing moment. The commands at last flashed with approval.

  Stage an accidental fire at the smithy, insure the smith is caught within.

  She felt a cold smile creep across her face as it started to melt away. “That leaves me with only one Master. Better not keep you waiting...” She flexed her fingers around the hammer, letting the ash and soot from the forge cling to it as the flames roared higher around her. The last command shrinking away, retreating from the flames back to the corner of her vision. It flickered faintly at her.

  Safely return the letter to your master.[1][2]

  Chapter 25: Left Out of The Flames

  The fire crept along the stones above the forge as she slowly turned away from the roaring flames. Her eyes watering and burning from the heat and smoke as much as from her broken heart. Guilt and rage at what she had been forced to do to her uncle, to her home fueling her steps. Her eyes wandering about the place like a stranger, taking it all in. Her eyes drifting up to dancing light along the stone ceiling as she watched the edge of the fire lap at the doorway. Writhing like an angry serpent the flames hung from the ceiling, crackling and hissing as it sought out more it could burn. Thick black smoke choked with fumes from the leather and oils the shelf had contained flooding out into the showroom beyond, hanging ever lower and gradually blocking her vision. She coughed and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. It was more out of habit than any real want to stop the acrid smoke from eating into her lungs.

  “Perhaps the smoke will free me from the Master’s control and I can die with my Uncle.” She shook her head as a spark of light near the ceiling caught her attention through the smoke. The wards against fire were all flickering and sparking as the flames fought to escape. With a pop of red light and a roar of flame the wards along the edge of the forge room failed, the flames flooding into the room beyond. The heat made her stagger back as the fires caught the wooden shelves and displays of the show room alight. The polished wood going up one after another. “Damn it uncle! I told you the wards were going to fail!” She choked back a sob and coughed again. The flash of her final command flickered from its corner in her vision. Its dull blue glow pulsing its displeasure at her delay, warning her against the danger she knew she was in.

  The Silverlight Smithy, the most famous smithy in all of Cross and the home of six generations of her family and legacy, was quickly being consumed by flames.

  Pushing through the fire she hesitated at the front door, her fingers wrapped about the handle. Her legs shook as she tried to will herself away from looking back. Blinking away her tears she screamed in anger and hatred for the monster that had done this. Slowly she looked back inside. The building was alive with flames, consuming everything they touched. The light casting evil shadows to dance across the room, reflecting off the perfect mirror shine of the smithy’s enchanted armors, untouched as the tables and stands burned around them. Her gaze drifting across the room to the long table near the kitchen, just at the bottom of the stair. She had spent so many mornings at that old worn wood, its corners soft from generations of use.

  Images began to form within the destruction playing out in the smoke and flames around her. Her mind delirious from heat and pain. She remembered sitting at the table learning her words and letters from her mother. She remembered the afternoons spent pestering her father with questions as he worked behind the counter or fitted visitors with their armor. She remembered the many chain link fights with she had with her best friend Lizzy, ducking and throwing from behind the shelves. She remembered the plates of eggs her uncle always managed to ruin set upon the family table... Her uncle, his still and broken form lying in a heap among the remains of that very same table. She felt herself go cold once more. Not from any magic, or command. No... the cold came from her heart this time. Her tears and sobs drying as she looked on. Holding up her hand, still gripping the bloody hammer, she watched as ash from her home stuck to the sides covering it with the evidence of her guilt. For a moment she considered again tossing the hammer into the fire, to be consumed with everything else.

  “My luck the bloody thing can’t be destroyed.” She coughed as the acrid smoke started to make her feel ever more lightheaded. Pulling open the door at last she stepped out into the cool night air of the market. “I will survive, Uncle. He will pay for this.”

  At a jog she took off down the row. She had only just passed the bakers shop when the loud clatter of the fire bell began to ring. From all over the market the other shopkeepers and their families ran out into the street. Within moments the market was full. People pushing past her as she moved away from the scene. The shouts of guards calling out orders as a fire line was slowly formed. Her mind wandering to the flood of helping hands rushing to save the smithy.

  “Oh gods... What if he's still alive?” She mumbled to herself, her footsteps faltering. “What if he tells them what I did? He had to know it was the Master, not me...Right?” Her heart started to pound hard in her chest as she shoved her way through a pack of onlookers. Prissy minor nobles gawking at the spectacle of her life going up in flames. “I have to finish this, I have to get the letter to the Master so I can be free of his comm
ands. Then I can find out if my Uncle survived. I have to let him know it was not me!”

  “What wasn't ya?” A slim hand locked hard around her arm and yanked her to a stop. The familiar voice cut with both accusation and worry. Lizzy yanked her arm painfully, spinning her around. She was in her sleepwear and breathing hard as she held onto her extended belly, trying to calm her breathing. Taking in one more long even breath Lizzy asked again. “ What wasn't ya? Did ya do this? What the bloody hell happened-!” Lizzy's last word was cut off as a lance of pain more intense than any she had felt before stabbed into her temples, her eyes rolling into her head as her legs gave out. Lizzy's hold on her was all that kept her from falling to the street and getting trampled by the sea of people rushing in to see the smithy burn. She lurched forward as Lizzy wrapped her tightly in her arms. Another mind-shattering lance of pain shot through her as Lizzy said something else, her words lost in the agony. She must have been calling her name! It was the only reason she could think of for such a violent reaction to her friend’s voice.

  Pulling away from her, she gave her best and only true friend a soft smile even as the world still spun in pain around her. Lizzy's face was pale, stricken with worry as Lizzy’s eyes glanced to the hammer still gripped in her hand. Lizzy's mouth opened but before she could speak, she quickly darted her free hand to covered her friend’s mouth. Shaking her head sadly, her mind ringing with the lingering pain from the last time Lizzy had spoken her name. She stepped inclose and gave her friend a tight hug. “Goodbye Lizzy.” She whispered into her ear. With that she turned and sprinted away, covering her ears with her fists to ward off Lizzy’s pleading voice. For a time she felt the footsteps behind her, the slight tug on the back of her shirt, a light pull on a strand of hair, knowing Lizzy was chasing after her. Lizzy would never catch her though. Perhaps before she was heavy with child she may have, but not today. She was thankful for that. She would die a thousand deaths before she let that evil master anywhere near Lizzy or her family.

  It did not take her long to reach the edge of the nobles district. A red glow alight on the horizon behind her, a long tale of smoke rising into the air. “He can't say I didn't follow orders...” She grumbled as she started up the Colosseum steps. The sound of fire bells still ringing loud through the districts, almost drowning out the rhythmic clapping that came from the shadows above her. She froze. A lance of ice shooting through her body as her master Lord Kindredstar came into the torch light, clapping his hands. His eyes cast up to the trail of smoke and the glinting red embers of ash floating in the night winds. She gripped the hammer even tighter as she took one more step up, pausing several feet away from him. She wanted so badly to do to him what he made her do to her uncle. She wanted more than anything else to smash the blood covered hammer into the master’s head and watch him tumble down the stairs of his gods be damned Colosseum.

  “I applaud your work ethic, Mongrel. Did you like my little hidden command? I thought you needed some encouragement. Do you want a treat for obeying like a good dog?” He laughed. His voice dripping with sarcasm as he spoke, making his words out to sound as sweet as any poisoned wine.

  “Yes, of course Master. Let me give you the letter as you commanded.” She tried to sound sincere, but the grinding of her teeth as she spoke left her doubtful it was working. The scowl on the master’s face was proof of that suspicion.

  “Don't test me mongrel. You think you're the first to try and play the part of the good pet? Ha!” He laughed, mocking her as she took another step closer. Just another few steps and she would be close enough to strike. His arrogance would be his downfall, all she had to do was- “Stop right there Mongrel. Not another step higher. I see the bloodlust in your eye. Tell me was he your first?” He barked another high, vile laugh. “I’m sure he was. Spoiled little magester’s brat that you are. Don't have to fight for anything.”

  She shook her head slightly and bared her teeth into a smile. “Don't you want your letter Master?” She tried again, ignoring his taunting, her will focused on only one thing. To put an end to this madman. Fishing the letter from her pocket and holding it up to him she held her gritted smile. She hoped that in the few moments it took for the magical command to vanish and another to take its place she would be able to act. If she could keep him distracted and not focused on his spells to control her she might have a chance to strike. Bouncing the letter in the air at him, her master regarded her with a wary eye. His glowing blue eyes darting between the letter and the hammer gripped in her hand.

  “Is that the weapon you picked Mongrel?” He changed the subject, stepping sideways around her, keeping his distance but coming a few steps down the stairs. He was not yet close enough and now had far better footing and leverage given his height but she was certain she was quicker than him. She turned to follow his movement, the letter still outstretched.

  “It is.” She answered, her fist trembling around the grip of the hammer as she tucked it behind her leg hoping to hide it a bit from his view. Red had warned her to never let the master get ahold of it. She still did not know why or how Red knew of it but she would die before she let him have it. She was walking a fine line here and she knew it. “It was his favorite. I was hoping to just incapacitate him from being a smith by taking it like you commanded... but then he came home. Came home from... from looking for me.” Her voice trembled at the end as she felt he knees start to shake with the tension mounting in the air. She had chosen to tell him the truth, hoping it would be enough to hide what the magical hammer truly was. Hide it right in plain sight, right under his arrogant ass. She just had to hide it long enough for him to take another step closer.

  “So that's his blood staining your weapon? His blood all over your hands? His blood covering your face like a savage?” He smiled. It was far too wide and full of teeth this time, almost a snarl. She froze her hand with the letter coming to her cheek, a fingertip touching a thick crust of something still drying. Pulling her hand away she looked at the crimson glob now trailing down her finger and staining the bottom of the crisply folded envelope. Her eyes widened as her breath caught, momentarily distracted by the sight. The memory still too fresh, the look of shock in her uncle’s eyes, the fading light in them that spoke of his forgiveness as he gazed into her, before falling away in a spray of blood. In that moment a bony hand snapped out from the darkness that fell around her. The master snatching the letter from her grip. She staggered a bit as she came back to her senses, her moment — the moment she had waited for— lost because of her own despair!

  “Rahh!” She screamed and took a step towards him, the hammer striking out, but she knew it was too late, she was too slow. Her chance was missed. “Bloody gods damn you master!” She spat and tried to take another swing. Her master only scoffed and took a quick step back up the stair, easily dodging the awkward strike and tucking the envelope into his robe as he ignored her outburst. His hand igniting with light even as the words of her final command lifted into her view.

  Safely return the letter to your master.

  The flash of cerulean distracting her as she took another useless swing at him. Striking nothing but open air. “I will kill you for this master!” She started to cry again but it was mixed this time with despair and outrage. It fueled her desire to get back at him even as the lance of pain struck through her mind from whatever new command the master had just given. She pressed on, resisting it. The rune driven from her vision in a flash of anger the moment it appeared. She took one more step before her knees buckled. The blue glow of another rune at last igniting in her mind.

  Kneel. Her knees spiked with pain as the hard stones of the stair cut into them, crimson mixing with the white stones of the Colosseum.

  “Ha! Pathetic Mongrel.” Kindredstar sniffed and he descended the steps again. Stopping on the stone just above her head, his robe pooling around his feet as he knelt before her. His hand coming to her chin and forcing her to look up into his cold heartless eyes. “Good lord, you are just a vicious l
ittle Mongrel aren't you. Little more than a beast. Just a half breed Mongrel. You like that name don't you Mongrel.” He stood, his hand lancing out with a slap that sent stars sparking through her vision as she collapsed onto the steps. Rolling down several of them before the command to Kneel flared in her vision again. She splayed out her limbs as she halted her tumble on the stones. Her legs and arms screaming in pain as the stones cut into them, bruising her skin and ripping gouges in her flesh from the granite edges. She forced herself to stop and return to her kneeling state. Tears of pain and anger now ran down her face as she looked back up to him. A trickle of her own blood from a cut she just suffered from hitting her forehead on the edge of the stair stung her eyes. She glared up at him.

  “Stop calling me that.” She snarled.

  “Why? That is all you are to me.” He started to ascend the steps, his voice calm and commanding. His hand danced over the runes of his array for her, issuing her next set of commands. “You’re worthless now. A liability that must be gotten rid of. You're too wild to be trained and like a rabid dog, must be put down.” He turned as he reached the top of the steps. “As I respect your tenacity, and the work you have done for me, keep your weapon. I will give you a fighting chance.” His grin turned even more sinister as the sigil in his hand flared to a different one than hers. His fingers dancing across it before flickering away. With a flourish she felt him bring hers back to light, his chill filling her body as command runes slowly bloomed within her vision. Who was he commanding before? Was it Lavets? She might have a chance if she worked together with him to break the master’s control. Assuming he was not willingly working for him. She shook her head, driving away such an impossible thought. A spike of pain and blue energy lanced into her once more. The master’s commands settled onto her aura, just as they did the first time.