Mighty Hammer Down

by David J Guyton

Rommus came to Mirra's door and gently pushed it open. A candle was lit in the room, so he assumed she had to be there somewhere. He stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him, careful not to alert her to his presence. Pulling the pendant out of the soft velvet bag, he placed it in his hand and looked at it shining in the golden glow of the candle. He smiled to himself, feeling a bit of pride as he closed his hand around the object and moved quietly to the stairs.

  When he arrived at the top, he paused to see if he could hear her through her bedroom door. He cocked his head when he heard her voice. Although he couldn't make out the words, he could hear her speaking, then a playful laugh. He listened a while for another voice but heard none. She grew quiet and all was still. A cold feeling came to his stomach as he stood there waiting for a sound, any sound that would dissolve the dreadful thoughts he was having about what was going on beyond the door in front of him. The sounds that finally came did not send the horrible thoughts away, but instead solidified his fear.

  With a mixture of anger and a cold dizziness, he threw open the door. Figures shuffled in the near darkness, attempting to hide the secret that had already been unfolded. One stood in the corner and one huddled to the center of the bed, seeking protection in the soft satin sheets. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he couldn't believe what he saw. His gaze moved slowly from the eyes of the sobbing Mirra in the center of her bed up to the eyes of a man he knew; a man he grew up with and trusted.

  "Uritus?how could you?"

  He could barely hear his own voice as the words came out on their own. The dizziness was growing stronger, so strong that it totally encompassed the rage that was burning in him only a moment before. Inside he felt as if he was being emptied of his soul, and darkness crept in to replace it, making a home of the remaining shell. He didn't even hear the pendant when it slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

  "Rommus," Uritus said, drawing out his name in a long and mocking way, "I'm sorry." Through his blurry vision he thought he saw a smile come to the man's face.

  Everything seemed to move so slowly. For an instant he thought to draw his sword, but his muscles refused to obey him. It was all he could do just to remain standing. After what seemed to be an eternity, he found his gaze on Mirra. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she sat straight and proud. He could not understand this at all.

  Instead of an explanation or an apology, she cut him deeply with a cold remark. "Rommus, you need to go." Her eyes remained locked on his.

  His head swam as he tried to think of what to do. He heard his own heart beating loudly in his ears. He had to remember to breathe. He looked up once more to Uritus standing there defiantly in the corner, his arms crossed.

  "You heard the lady Rommus. You are not welcome here. Would you like me to show you where the door is? I am quite familiar with this house," Uritus said with a smile so evil that he couldn't believe this was the same man he knew. The same man who he played with as a child in the Emperor's Hall. This friend of many years with whom he shared so many memories.

  "I? I?" He couldn't complete a sentence. Horrible pain began to flood into his emptiness; a pain that no hand could comfort. The room seemed to shift suddenly to the left, but when he felt a jolt to his shoulder he realized that he had fallen into the side of the doorway. He stepped on something hard on the floor. When he moved his foot he saw that it was a small gold object. He watched it for a moment as a tear fell beside it. He blinked slowly as he tried to clear his head enough to do something about this situation. When he looked up, Mirra was in front of him.

  "I'm sorry Rommus. I never meant for it to be this way. I never wanted to hurt you. Please just go."

  He noticed suddenly that the door was closing in front of him. He stumbled back a step and caught himself on the railing behind him. There was nothing he could do to fix anything now. The only thing that would save him was waking up from this nightmare. Although he fought desperately to wake, his spirit clawing for the real world, no other world came. He found himself halfway down the stairs when pain hit him at his joints. He had fallen down the last few steps and laid there for a moment looking at the ceiling. His world was destroyed. He had nothing now, no reason to go on.

  Somehow he managed to reach the door and open it. Outside a frigid wall of rain battered the streets, laying siege to the city. He looked to the sky and saw nothing but blackness as thunder rolled and shook Brinn in the darkness. He stepped out into the river of water rushing down the street and was immediately soaked to the bone from the unforgiving downpour. Any tears that may have escaped from his eyes were instantly lost in the cold streams of water running down his face. Stumbling away from the door he had left open, he walked the way he thought was the right way home. He almost instantly forgot where he was, with all the buildings looking the same in the driving rain. He turned to the only light he saw and realized it came from the very door he had left open. The pain he was feeling seemed unreal, so much worse than anything he ever imagined. His body and mind were giving up and not working together, but he struggled against his invisible foe and tried to stand tall. He looked inside Mirra's door for the last time and saw the candle sitting on the table, flickering and waving, completely unconcerned with the storm outside. For a second he wished for that kind of strength; to be able to stand tall and be unaffected by the unfairness in the world around him. He did his best to stand up straight against the angry rain. He thought he heard a female voice cry out, but it was distant and too weak to be sure he heard it at all. Ignoring the thought, he reached down deep inside himself and examined the pain he was feeling.

  Suddenly a different pain came to him; a sharp, white-hot agony in his stomach. His eyes closed for a second as he studied it. It was growing more intense at an alarming rate, so he made an effort to comfort himself by bringing a hand to his middle. A searing ache stung his hand and he looked down to determine the cause. The rain seemed to go away as all sound left his ears. By the dim candlelight he saw a blade, a gold blade, wet with blood and rain, protruding from his belly. The sharp point was probably what had hurt his hand. He could feel each raindrop as it landed on the weapon, jarring it ever so slightly. His insides felt as if they had turned to boiling water as he wondered if this was all real or just a dream.

  The pain faded along with the light. He had always wondered what this moment would be like. He couldn't feel it when he fell to his knees and then facedown onto the rough cobblestone. Blood swam eagerly out into the river of water rushing around him. He always thought everything would fade to black, and it did. He found himself surrounded in silent emptiness as all thought slipped from his grasp.

  Rommus died there that night at Mirra's door.