The not-immortal Blacksmith

Somewhere...

29th of Anael, First month of Snow.

2290 years since the New Gods came.

Maxwell fell heavily on his back, with a thump that knocked the wind out of him. His body told him he was on a flat stone slab, surrounded by people. He wheezed for a few moments until his breath returned, then felt his himself for injuries and found none. He finally opened his eyes and looked around. Then looked around again. A church of some sort. People in vestments. Lots of people in the back praying. He sat up. “What in the hells is going on?”

- - -

For the third time the high priest of the Cult of the Heretic finished the ritual of summoning that the strange old gnome woman had given him. He was beginning to loose faith. The Heretic Had to come. His people needed him. With a heavy heart he started the ritual a fourth time.

There was a loud pop above the alter and a man fell screaming from the ceiling, and crashed into the ancient stone slab. There was blood splatter everywhere, and the church fell silent. Then the figure on the slab sat up, saying “What in the hells is going on?”

- - -

Tom Cat, El Gato god king of all he surveyed stretched out on the top of his warm mount. It's good to be the king. I hope that stupid fairy and her friends enjoy their trip through the shadow realm. If she had just asked; or begged would have been even better; I would have sent her through a nicer cat door to where the idiot smith went. But Nooo, she had to scream. Moron. He kneaded his paws into the warm fur of the worg. Mmm, Comfy.

- - -

Maxwell slid off from what he now recognized as an alter. “What the hells do you think you're doing?!” He yelled at the mass of people kneeling in front of him. “Where the hell am I?”

“Lord Heretic,” the kneeling head priest replied, “You are in your church, The Church of the Heretic!”

“...bugger...”

“The land needs your service and divine protection once more.” The priest continued as he slowly stood, “Is it not written in the holy scriptures that you said 'Don't make me come back here'?”

Max smacked the palm of his hand into his face, muttering, “I knew that would eventually bite me in the ass...”

A man dressed in a military uniform approached the alter, “Lord Maxwell, the Kingdom of Demonia needs your help once more. Please, in our hour of need, please grant us your strength. The enemy is at the gates, and we don't know how much longer we can hold out.”

Max looked at the almost familiar man, “Do you have a brother named Alexander?”

“No sir, that would be my first cousin.” The soldier replied. “My name is Shawn.”

“Close enough.” Max shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, “Lets get things started.” He turned to glare at the priest, “You and I will be having words after this is over... And get me my trunk!”

- - -

The world was cold. Colder than cold, really. The air chilled the throat and lungs with every breath. Maybe I should have asked the stupid cat for help, as opposed to yelling at him? Brandywine thought as she fluttered through the almost living shadows that made up the shadow realm. She looked back at the three Heroes and Brianna. Poor dear, Bri shouldn't need to deal with this kind of thing. She shrugged, and continued on in the direction Tom Cat had pointed her in. I hope he didn't give me the wrong directions as a joke. Miserable bastard.

- - -

Out of nowhere, Tom Cat, El Gato, God King of Worgs and all that he surveyed, had a sneezing fit. And Maxwell's trunk vanished.

- - -

The walk through the city took most of an hour due to the refugees. In the distance Max could see the smoke from the burning houses outside the walls. Why does everyone have to burn the houses? It's such a waste of resources. He walked the streets, feelings of sadness and desperation all around him, and nearly wept. Shit's getting old. When I get my hands on Lancil, I'm going to make him explode.

- - -

Frost clung to her hair, her eyelashes, and her clothes, as Brianna continued to trudge behind Brandy. Note to self, do NOT visit the realm of shadows ever again. Much to cold.

- - -

“Your city, nay your entire country is an abomination to all of demon kind!” Prince Lancil paused to take a breath. “Why do you 'people' insist you are in the right? Your ancestors betrayed the sacred trust and abandoned their own people! For what? This thing called 'love'?” He paused, having spotted an unpleasant, but not unforeseen development. Damn. He got here well earlier than expected. Revise plans 3-9. 11 and 14 need to be removed. Time to use force. He sighed. “Prepare the siege engines!”

-

Maxwell looked over the city wall. Sure enough, there was the damnable 'Prince Lancil', playing at being a demon lord. I wonder who actually crawled out of the ground to be the Lord? It sure wasn't him. Maybe the one on his left?Large muscles, intelligent eyes...burns with power. Power he's feeding into Lancil... If we kill him, Lancil may fall...But then we still have to deal with the army. The combat Orders will be taking high casualties in this war...

He turned from the wall, and walked down the stairs, “Shawn! Take me to the generals. We need to talk.” He looked around for one of the priests who had followed him from the church, “You. Yes you.” He pointed at a random priest, or maybe acolyte? “Where's my box?”

The person in question, an acolyte named Nancy replied, “It is on it's way to you, my lordship.”

“Good.” Max turned back to Shawn. “Let's go.”

- - -

Nomvula was surprised at the biting cold and the ethereal darkness of the road she found herself on. The cold bites my face and lungs. It slips in under my clothes. I can see the English shivering in his robes. The not-English English, Magni, seems fine. He's whistling in the darkness. This is a place of dreams and horrors. I can see some of the shadows looking at us as we travel past the cities and towns. They are evil spirits waiting for us to falter so they can eat us. I don't want to be here.

- - -

As rocks from the demon's catapults impacted the cities walls, magical balls of fire arced over the battlements, starting buildings on fire. Max found himself stopping every few minutes as the residents and the guard stopped traffic so they had room to control the blazes and rescue trapped people. After the fourth stop, Max looked at Shawn, “You have that many trained mages to do this work?”

“Every block has a dedicated 'Fire Martial' who is paid a stipend from the city to contain fires.” Shawn replied. “For was it not said, 'Every forge needs a way to extinguish it's flame, so it may not spread to the neighborhood'?”

- - -

The frost was blurring their vision when the finally reached the exit from the Realm of Shadows. The run had been long and hard, but was finally over. They fell to their knees on the snowy plain as the portal closed behind them.

“Thank the gods that's over.” Nomvula said, gasping in the comparatively warm air.

“I don't know how much longer I could have lasted.” Bri replied.

Magni, kept whistling.