The not-immortal Blacksmith

The night had passed, and once again Maxwell and friends sat at camp as Brandywine scouted the castle. When she returned, she was smiling. “You were right on, Max! The gelatinous idiot is in the throne room, eating to his hearts content.”

“How do the troops look? And the guards?” Maxwell asked.

“Let me make my ‘official’ report!” Brandy said, before striking a pose, and adopting a nasal voice. “The outer guards are mostly sticking to the old acid traps, and directing traffic around them. The wall guards barely leave the tower rooms to patrol; I saw one guard on patrol, and it seemed likely that he was in disgrace. The guards at the gate are little better, but they do seem to be making some sort of effort to search anything or anyone entering, or more importantly exiting the castle.

“The internal passages are mostly devoid of life, with the only real traffic running from the kitchen to the throne and back. This guy eats things like you wouldn’t believe. He has been in a shouting match with someone on the other side of his talking stone for the better part of an hour, something about a wagon breaking and a warranty not being forthcoming?”

Max groaned. “Alright everyone, we all heard Brandy’s report. What do you think for an entrance?”

Nomvula was first, “In through the gate. They are more interested in things leaving than coming in. We can get close before we attack, and the numbers there are small to insignificant.”

Chester snickered, “Insignificant? Where did you learn such a big word?”

“Yeah. Big word. Me dumb native. Know nothing.” Nomvula replied, smiling. “The word is both bigger than your little thing, and describes your thing very well.”

Magni laughed; Brianna covered her face with both hands; Brandy laughed so hard that she fell out of the air; and Chester just sat there making fish faces as he gasped. Once he recovered, Chester mumbled something about Nomvula smelling like elder berries.

“Alright, we’ve heard Nomvula’s take on the situation. Magni?” Maxwell asked.

“Well, I think an infiltration at night over the wall is our best bet. Less guards, and almost no chance of being seen.” Magni stated. “It also seems that the demons sleep at night much as we do, so actually making it to the throne room would more than likely be easier as well.”

“Chester, do you have anything to input?” Max looked at the mage.

“Disregarding the attack on my person, I am actually in favor of Nomvula’s idea of a frontal assault on the gate.” Chester said, dropping into a lecturing mode, “There is more certainty as to the numbers involved, and when we are inevitably attacked, we don’t have to worry about being flanked on the ramparts, or falling to our doom. There is also the fact that we won’t have to worry about the acid pits on our approach.”

“Hmm, a well-reasoned approach.” Max replied with a hint of a smile. “Bri?”

“I don’t like either one.” Bri said, standing to pace. “Either one puts us in danger of having the whole garrison of demons being called down upon us at our weakest.” She stopped in her pacing and looked at the castle through the trees. “Perhaps there is a way to tunnel under, or around, the wall? That would get us safely past the guards, and make our entry much quieter.”

Everyone stared at Bri. Max especially so, a smile crossing his face.

“Son of a …” Chester said. “I found a spell in ‘The Farmers guide to Field Preparations’ to turn stone to earth, its intent was to clear large stones from new fields. I also found a spell in ‘A Guide to being stranded in the Dark Lands’ to turn dirt and sand into air! It was meant to be used to clear the impure air that is sometimes found in deep caves.”

“It sounds like we have a plan.” Max said. “Chester, you have until sundown to learn those spells.”

Chester frowned, “The mana required to cast those spells is quite high; even with my reserves, I doubt I could cast each more than twice.”

“There are potions for mana recovery.” Brandy said, causing Chester to relax.

“There are, yes.” Max replied as his smile turned to a frown. “But we used the last one on you, when you went on a drinking bender at the wedding.”

Brandy stared at the ground, “…well crap…”

Bri looked at the group, and smiled. “I have every faith that Chester will have the stamina to withstand the mana drain. We all know that he is stronger than his frame would imply.”

-

As dusk approached, Chester put down ‘A Guide to being stranded in the Dark Lands’. “I’ve got both memorized as best as I can.” He announced.

Max nodded, and whistled softly for everyone to gather around. “Alright, part one is ready to go. By comparison part two is pretty easy: Make our way to the demon lord, killing anyone we see on our way.”

Everyone nodded. “Part three is going to be the hardest one: Killing the corpulent moron on the throne.”

“I’m going to be suffering from severe mana drain, I may be able to cast one or two force bolts, but that will be all.” Chester reminded everyone. “So, count magical support out.”

“That leaves ranged support up to Bri.” Max said. “With Magni on the left flank, Nomvula on the right, I can take the front and center position. Remember that we don’t know what this guy has for powers, his combat style, or his weaknesses.”

Brandy giggled, “His weakness is food.”

“Thanks Brandy.” Chester said, a small growl in his throat, “I’ll just conjure up a poisoned pie for him to enjoy.”

Magni squinted at Chester, “You can do that? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Of course, I can’t!” Chester growled. “If I could, do you think we would be eating salted chunks of meat in a thin grave for the last week?”

-

Despite, or maybe because of, the pale glow of the twin moons, Max and his friends were able to slip from shadow to shadow until they reached the left corner where wall met mountain. Chester set out his components for the spells, and once he had reviewed the Stone to Earth spell one more time, he began the several minute incantations. As he finished the spell, there was a faint crunching sound from the mountainside, followed by the sound of dirt falling, as hole some six feet across formed in the rock. Chester took a couple of deep breaths, and began the Earth to Air spell. Soon a fizzing sound, much like the sound made from a freshly poured beer, filled the air, and the touch of an earthy breeze issued from the freshly made caves mouth.

Chester collapsed to his knees. “That…That took more out of me than expected.” He said, panting. “Water. Please.”

Nomvula handed him a water skin, and he drank most of it. “Better. If only I had some tea…” He strode into the cave, following the gentle right-hand curve he had guided the magic in forming. “Alright, here is where I start again.”

He began the Stone to Earth spell once more, his back to those he had begun to call friends. Halfway through the spell, he wiped blood from his nose, and kept going. Soon enough the sound of cracking came from the stone, and dirt trickled from the freshly created tunnel. He finished the rest of the waterskin, throwing it over his shoulder when done. He started the Earth to Air spell without any hesitation. He wheezed like a twenty year, three pack a day, smoker. He kept chanting. When the blood started to come from his eyes, ears and nose, he wiped his eyes clear, and kept chanting. When the blood was coughed from his lungs, he kept chanting, swallowing the blood between words. There was a pop and a fizz, and another bout of fresh air breezed past the group. Chester collapsed to the caves floor, hiding the blood with his body. He managed, through strangled breathing, “Get going. I’m going to lay here and recover for a while. I will find you when I’ve recovered.”

The party passed him in the dark cave, Nomvula pausing long enough to pat him on his head and say “Good job English.”

-

Chester watched his friends walk away; a real tear mixed with the blood as it ran down his face. “Well,” he coughed out, “At least I did something to help for once.” He lay still for a while. Then a while longer.

-

The corridors of the castle were easy to navigate with both Brandy’s ability to scout ahead, and Maxwell’s memory from the last time he had been here. The two groups of guards they had found had been easy to ambush, and gone down before they had the ability to raise an alarm. As they closed the distance to the throne room, Bri spoke up, “I don’t think Chester will be able to follow us.”

Magni looked at her, “Judging by the blood on the floor, I doubt he will be following anyone anymore.”

The comment hung in the air like a rancid fart, as the group digested the information.

“I should have done it.” Max finally said, anger suffusing his voice.

Bri clutched his arm, “He is an adult. It was his decision to make. Don’t belittle his sacrifice by taking things out on yourself, save it for the Bastard on the throne.”

They continued on their way to the throne, determination on their faces, and a mix of sadness and anger in their hearts.

-

The intricately carved double doors to the throne room stood closed in front of them, and as the blood of the previous guards pooled on the granite floor around them, they examined the work of art. “Let’s give it a push?” Magni suggest/asked.

“Works for me.” Max replied, stepping to the door, and slammed each of his hands against the double doors. With a loud crack both doors shattered inward.

With the exception of the…thing… on the throne, the room was immaculate. Murals of happy dwarves covered the walls, beautiful chandeliers of spun glass hung from the ceiling, and a table of food that smelled like the gods themselves had created it lay in front of the throne. The food was beautiful, until you began to recognize the shapes of body parts from humanoid creatures.

The corpulent thing on the throne screamed, “I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed while I was eating!” Then it looked up at the assembled heroes. “Bah. What do you peons think you are doing here? Go to the kitchen and get turned into f---” An arrow sprouted from the demon’s throat. He coughed, and the arrow melted into goo only to be absorbed into the things body.

“Do you think that is actually going to hurt me? The great Demon Lord Rastafaun the Gorged? I will consume all of you! Just as I will eventually consume the world!” Rastafaun bellowed.

The party spread out, Nomvula on the right, Magni on the left, and Bri in the doorway. The prepared to charge when Rastafaun extended his many jointed arms from his body, and swung ham sized fists at Nomvula and Magni.

Magni tumbled under the fist, but mis stepped when the fist turned in midair and struck him full force in the back. Nomvula caught the fist on her shield, and as the skin of the thing tried to wriggle its way through and around the shield, she dropped it and stabbed the fist with her spear. The spear tip burst into flames upon contact with the demon flesh, and the hand was wrenched back the way it had come.

Bri loosed a salvo of arrows from the door. They struck true, but were quickly consumed by the demon’s body. Dropping her bow, she drew her short sword, and started to advance.

Having drawn his sword, Maxwell strode to the demon and began to hack into its body. He swung it closer to a woodsman with a felling axe, than a trained swordsman, but every chunk he removed just slurped back into the hulking form.

“Foolish creatures!” Rastafaun bellowed with glee, “Do you think your puny weapons can do mor than tickle me?” He drove a foot into Maxwell’s gut, knocking him back to almost the door. “The little shadow girl is the only one who even vaguely concerns me!”

Magni, dodging another blow from the fist, managed to stab his poisoned dagger into the wrist, earning him a backhand that sent him sprawling to the floor. Then the hand fell off the arm.

Rastafaun screamed, “What have you done to my beautiful Arm?!?” Followed by laughing as the arm grew the hand back. “I love that trick! But where did you find such a useful dagger? So full of tasty poison?”

“Faen deg!” Magni shouted back, rolling away from another strike.

Using her spear to block a barrage of strikes from the demon, Nomvula shifted her hands on the shaft, and began whirling the spear in front of her. She shifted to the side after batting away another attack and brought the burning blade down mid arm, severing it.

“Curse you girl!” Rastafaun bellowed with real pain. “I will eat you raw for that!” Ignoring Magni and Maxwell, he lunged up from the throne, and began striking rapidly at Nomvula with both arms and the occasional kick. So intent on her death and consumption, he didn’t even notice when Magni jumped up to the center of his back and planted both of his daggers into him.

Magni kicked of the demon, landing easily on the floor, and looked at his weapons. The normal steel blade had been reduced to flakes of rust, while the magical one smoked, but was otherwise unharmed. With a bone breaking back kick, Rastafaun launched him into the wall. He slumped to the ground and lay still.

Brandy flew past Rastafaun’s head, peppering his face with punches that could fell a horse, but was ignored. She rounded the room, picking up speed, and kicked him in the side of the head. He turned one eye to her, and laughed. “A little fairy? Really? You are too precious to eat. I will put you in an iron cage, and let your screams of pain sing me to sleep.”

Nomvula sped up. She pushed her anger and hatred to the front of her mind, and let it flow into the spear. Her English was dead in a cave. Her friend Magni lay on the floor dying from internal bleeding. Her master of the combat arts was only just now regaining his feet. She stabbed with her spear, faster and faster. Every hit, no matter how light, caused damage that didn’t seem to heal. Or at least not heal as fast.

Maxwell got up. Not dying makes the healing take too long. Ugh. He removed his revolvers from their holsters, aimed at Rastafaun’s head, and unloaded on him. “Gods damn you! You worthless sack of putrescent flesh!” He screamed. The six-guns spoke as they always did, loudly, and with malice-a-forethought. All twelve bullets hit their mark, and the demon started to slump to the floor. Max ran to the fallen Magni, laying him flat, and casting healing spells one after another. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, he watched as Magni’s chest rebuilt itself, then the man’s lungs heaved, and he coughed up blood.

Magni looked up at Max, “did…did we win?” He asked in a shaky voice. Then Max’s head exploded off his torso.

-

Chesters thought, or maybe his soul, followed his friends through the castle. He witnessed their triumphs against the guards. Saw the door explode into the throne room. Then watched in horror as the demon kept coming back. Strikes and blows that would have felled even the strongest of heroes, and perhaps some gods, did almost nothing. When Max fired his revolvers, and the thing fell to the floor. He smiled. Good job Max! And then he saw it reform, a good chunk of it bubbling and hissing on the floor, but still it rose. A reflexive backhand broke Nomvula’s spear and arms, as well as knocking Brandy into the stone wall behind her. His other arm shot out, and smashed Maxwell’s head like a sledge hammer hitting a pumpkin. His stomach, if he had had one, would have emptied itself.

Something cawed next to him, “CHESTER. IT IS TIME TO GO.”

Chester looked at the large bird, its glossy black feathers, its expressive beak, its softly glowing blue eyes, and he punched it.

Chester shook his head, “No.”

“IT IS TIME.” The bird responded

“There is time to go when I’m DEAD, you stupid bird.” Chester shouted.

The bird cocked its head, “YOU ARE DEAD.”

“Tough shit.” Chester shifted his focus. He saw the look on Brianna’s face, as the demon lumbered towards the slowly recovering Max, saw Magni scream, and Nomvula's shuddering breath.

Chester tensed. He stared. He poured all of his remaining thoughts and emotions into one last word… “COMPRESS!”

And finally, Death took him.