The Blacksmith Soldier

By Levi Shipley

A former mercenary, now blacksmith, named Artemis Knox lives in a world where becoming at least somewhat level-headed and fully grown tethers you to a reviving stone closest to where you were born. When you die, you come back to life at the age and condition you were in when you hit that requirement.
Artemis has made many mistakes regarding his family as a husband and a father and now must live his life alone, perpetually regretting the follies he's made. That is, until one day a young girl appears and, without a word, puts him on a path to redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Levi Shipley
• Release date: Nov 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310609442

Levi Shipley

I am a writer. Not because of my vocabulary or any particular push in that direction. I simply feel like the person I'm meant to be after a good session at the keyboard. Otherwise, just an average person.

Book preview

The Blacksmith Soldier

Written by Levi Shipley

Contents

Introduction

The Girl

An Excursion

To Live Again

Another Attempt

Dark Tunnels

Without a Road

Under the Willows

Bluehold

Ruaza

Thick Walls and Wedding Bells

The Sea Serpent

Where Souls Die

After Life

Introduction

There is a world in which death is feared and also disregarded. This world is called Tarmos and holds three nations: Paxia, Orengard, and Ruaza. Outside these places is an island named Hado.

In this world souls are connected to the earth. When someone is born they bear a birthmark upon their chest. This symbol represents the Halostone closest to their birthplace. Should someone die after reaching both physical and mental maturity, they will be returned to their Halostone and resurrected at the point they fully developed. Some are brought back in the middle of normal life, some near the end.

However, there are others who are cut down before their peak, or simply refused to mature. These poor souls are cursed with unrest and become poltergeists. In this state they possess the yet to be born babes of the world, creating terrible beings. Some are made into conjoined twins, one good and the other being a manifestation of the poltergeist, evil. Others are made into giants, while some cause split personalities. But no matter the case, they are eventually sent to Hado. Here they will leave the free world in peace.

As time goes on, the number of lost souls increases. Hado will be overpopulated, and the three nations will find themselves in strife.

It is in this world that Artemis, a third life blacksmith, makes his living. In the burg of Garn, Paxia, he crafts fine shields, armor, weaponry, horse shoes, and miscellaneous requests. He had three sons, only one of which made it to a second life. His wife vanished the day their second and third son did not return from the Halostone.

The Girl

One

Despite the world's rapidly growing population, Garn is nearly a ghost town. The fifth lifes and older have all left for Ruaza, and few first lifes learn maturity here. Couples have given up on raising children, as they fear they will be condemned to Hado as possessed or eventual poltergeists. Here Artemis accumulates a small wealth from his monopoly.

But life here is empty for him. His immortal rebirths lay a future of loneliness before him. His only living son Felix resides in Orengard as a bounty hunter of poltergeists. Artemis spends his nights in solitude and ponders the fate of his dying world. The forge gives him little comfort, for its heat reminds him of the fire in him which died, ironically, when he was reborn a second time.

A morning dawned in mid spring. The air was crisp but pleasant. The pestilent insects had yet to awaken from their winter slumber, but the birds had begun to declare their songs. As he approached the little oaken shanty which housed his forge, he detected soft weeping from behind the forge's stone walls. Artemis decides to ignore the moaning. It's likely just some first life who realized the futility of their existence. Maybe a distraught mother. It certainly sounded female, but for all he knew it could be a cat.

Business is slow, which could be expected on such a nice day. No one ever wants to browse shops when there are berries to be plucked and children to be watched. The gentleness of nature seems to quiet man's rage and stem the need of weapons. Even the horses keep their shoes. It is slow. It is boring, and Artemis becomes restless.

He walks behind the forge, partly curious but mostly agitated. What he sees is a young girl, definitely a first life, curled up and drooling. Her hair is short and wheat colored. Her skin a mild olive. She is frail, but not emaciated.

Well now, He begins, having a bad morning, hmm? And on such a nice day. He waits for her to reply or at least begin to blubber again, but she does not. Instead she pushes her head up the gray stones and sighs.

Artemis contemplates leaving her. Surely she'll not remain there forever. Then she would be someone else's problem.

But no, he simply can't abandon her now. Maybe because he is growing soft hearted, or maybe she reminds him of his wife. Either way he offers her his hand. At first she only looks at his large calloused hands, making him believe for a second that she truly wanted no help. Then she takes it. Her hand is small and soft, but her grip is firm.

I'm gunna close up shop, then. No one's bothering me in a useful way today anyhow. He sighs then looks at her timid face. Their hands release as she stands upright. Let's get you some food. And some for me as well.

Two

If asked about their dinner now, Artemis wouldn't call it awkward as he had thought then. He may even call it oddly pleasant. Across the splintered wooden table he kept behind his cottage sat the girl, still silent. She didn't even make audible eating noises, but Artemis didn't care. Conversation was something he understood well but had little love for.

They ate lamb and potatoes. Artemis worked his kitchen just as well as his forge and laid a small dish before her. Thankfully she either was not picky or just polite, because she began eating. Slowly but making progress. He poured her a glass of homemade birch beer, which he chilled in a deep cellar. He didn't like the real stuff with alcohol. It addles minds, and losing his intellect frightened him. And he knew his temper was thin when he drank. Soda, however, was a fine substitute.

The sun finished its daytime arc, casting amber rays upon the grassy fields. In this light the green became gold, while the blue sky became amethyst. A breeze came through and ruffled the meadows, giving Artemis the sight of a golden ocean. The girl watched in silence but with intent. Artemis's heart dropped. He knew a sight like this would not roll around again for some time. In between there would be pain and hardship. From here, life would go downhill again, as it does. He believed this was perhaps the perfect example of a bitter sweet moment. The moment itself was delightful, but knowing it would end soon and be followed by darkness, made it terribly unpleasant.

Artemis fashioned up bedding for her in his guest room. The room once belonged to his sons and was very large. Though she didn't ask him for lodging, he knew she had nowhere else to go.

As she slept he ventured outside to gaze at the moon. He sometimes found himself up for days without sleep, but watching the great white disk thicken and thin seemed to give him reprieve. This was a night without rest, a night to do thinking. But his mind was empty as was his soul. Immortality always comes with a price. His price was peace.

Three

Fatigue. It always crept up on Artemis when he missed sleep. And now it was coming full swing while he worked the forge. The girl, who had yet to utter a word, was sitting on the east side of the shack and gazing into the forest. Artemis sluggishly hammered away at a tempered blade, working in the fine points and giving it his signature strength.

The day progressed as usual, and he paused for a lunch break. He decided that he should sit next to her and share some food. Slender as she was she could use it. And perhaps she might speak to him for once. If only to tell her name, which would be a start.

Artemis rounded the shanty’s southeast corner to see that the girl is no longer sitting down there. She is not in sight as far as he can tell, but he assumes she is taking a stroll. After all, he wouldn't be able to tolerate sitting and staring all day either. There were no visible footprints or any trace or track that might indicate where she trotted off to. she needed a break. She'll come back.

She didn't.

She had a meal, a bed, and some one sided conversations. Maybe that's all there was to it. Artemis wanted to believe that, sought to believe it. But a part of him knew that something more malign was behind her disappearance. However, he shrugged it off and continued with another average day.

Four

That night he did not sleep so much as sink into a world of terror. In a dream Artemis watched the girl run through the forest . . . away from something. That thing he could not see, but what he could see was fear abounding in her face. He was floating in the trees and held no power to save her. Yet she continued to run. Her petit frame somehow garnering the strength to outrun her pursuer. At least for now. And the dream went on like this, until his desire to save her was so great that his mind began to reel, and the world around him fell apart. Then there was darkness.

And then there was his bedroom ceiling.

Only a parcel of sleep this night. His intuition was still flaring, and he needed to search for her. Whether in vain or not, it would comfort him to try. He fitted his boots and huntsman coat that had been a gift and jogged from his home and into the Har Woods. The air was thick and cold, the sky a billowing black cloud cover, and his boots soaked through. He went on until he came to the place where the wood was closest to his forge. There were footprints. Or perhaps there weren't. Artemis had forgotten his lantern and hadn't fully adjusted his eyes. But as it stood, he was almost certain that there was a fresh trail. He could swear two sets made an impression in the soggy dirt, one light and shallow and the other larger and deeper.

His mind whirled for a moment, running through what a devious man would do to the poor girl. If only she would've called for Artemis, but she didn't. A fact which now made him believe she couldn't. He knew nothing about her, really. And the idea that she could be a mute seemed so very prevalent.

But only a man had taken her. No giant, for the prints were not so deep as that. They were not quite his size, which boosted his courage. Knowing that most people indeed rest, Artemis began to follow the tracks.

Five

Pine needles crunched under his feet while he moved. The light of the moon was beginning to pierce the cloud, and he was able to see. There were indeed two tracks, and one was the girl’s. The other was sharp and deeper than he first thought. Artemis was no hunter, but he recognized that deep print. For he had made such items that would leave a print like this. The deep one belonged to someone wearing armor.

A weapon was something he never even thought of bringing, but now he believed that he should have. Still though, he made too much ground to turn back to his house. And it was very likely that even if he did, it was already too late. But what he was too late for, he did not know.

After following the trail for about a mile, Artemis came upon a house. It belonged to his friend Dral, and Artemis thought it a good idea to stop in and hear from his friend. The house was made of logs and covered from foundation to chimney in moss and ivy. The front door was the only clean part and no light passed through the windows.

He knocked on the door and waited. As he did this, Artemis thought about leaving his friend to sleep. After all, it was quite late and there were dangers ahead. But before he could leave, the wooden door opened up a few inches, creaking as it did.

Dral’s face was haggard, and his black hair was splayed out to the sides. Only the right side of his face was visible. Just below his chin the blade of a dagger glinted in the moon’s dim light. Recognition came over his face, and he pulled the door wide open and lowered his weapon. He was clothed in a sooty cotton robe, but his feet were clean. Artemis? Dral rubbed his eyes, which were wide and the same color as his door. He turned to make sure his wife did not stir. What are you doing out here so late?

Now more than ever, Artemis wished he had not stopped. Dral had been his friend for many years, and even though Dral couldn’t die permanently, Artemis still reserved a fair deal of concern. Did you hear anyone come through here earlier? Maybe clad in armor? His feet willed him to move on, but he stayed in place and waited for an answer.

Dral ran his fingers through his curly hair as if trying to correct it. He gave up and shook his head. No, I don’t believe I have. He put both hands in his hair and tried again. Still the tight spirals refused to bend the way he wanted, and he lowered his arms in defeat. But before Artemis could reply, Dral went on. What’s this about? Is something wrong?

Yes, something was horribly wrong, but Artemis didn’t want to say so. Oh, He said, trying to be as calm and collected as possible, I’m looking for someone who wandered this way earlier.

Out here in the middle of Har? That’s not a wise decision, not wise at all. Dral walked back into his house and left the door wide open. Before Artemis felt awkward and before he left, Dral came back fully clothed and with his bow. Let’s go look for them together. I see you aren’t armed. And there are bears out here.

Artemis shook his head, but Dral pushed through him and down his walk. Artemis sighed and showed Dral the tracks he had been following.

Dral studied the two sets and looked up at the blacksmith. There are two people out here. A pause then. What exactly is going on, Artemis?

If only he had just went on without consulting his friend. Soon Dral would be a part of this mess, but it wasn’t his to contend with. Artemis dropped his gaze to the tracks and then looks into his friend’s eyes. I found a girl yesterday crying behind my forge. A first life, I think. He wiped his face from forehead to beard in hope that the gesture would somehow comfort him. She didn’t say a word, but I gave her food and lodging. I mean, she needed it.

Then came a pause and Dral broke in, the moon’s light casting a shadow from his brow that made his eyes seem to sink in their sockets. Well alright. And then? He spread his arms and shrugged, but the concern marred his face.

And she sat behind my forge all day today. But when I went to check on her, she was gone. Artemis closed his eyes and tried to picture the day that just passed. In the distance an owl begged to know who was in its forest, and it received the sound of rustling trees for an answer. After feeling satisfied with his memories, Artemis continued, And I just thought she moved on. First lifes are like that sometimes. A frown grooved onto his face and added ten years to his age. Then I had this awful dream that she was being chased by something, and I couldn’t help.

Dral’s mouth opened as if to reply, but he said nothing. Artemis had never been one to share, and hearing him do so further conveyed the gravity of events to Dral. Dral looked down at the unhidden trail and watched it journey deeper into the wood. There were dangers aplenty deep in the forest, but to ignore the plight of the helpless was far more dangerous. Well, it seems that her pursuer is walking in tandem with her. So I don’t think she’s at risk just yet. And though he said this, Artemis could feel the biting insincerity it held. He could just hope that he was right, even if he didn’t mean to be.

Six

The woods darkened again as the full moon receded behind a wall of thick cloud. Their steps crunched under their feet, and the trail became hard to follow. But they pressed on. Every minute or two they would stop to check the trail and be sure they hadn’t lost it. Somewhere a coyote yipped and was echoed by a dozen more. Over the hills to the south was a deep rumble of thunder.

Then the moon returned, and the path was made clear again. As if to signify the light, swarms of fireflies danced in the dark night’s light. They landed and lifted from ferns that swayed gently in the forest wind. The pale green light they made radiated and dissipated like twinkling stars.

The two men followed the trail to a spring where it seemed to stop. Taking their quarry’s advice, they both drank from it. The water was cool and fresh. They drank from the font and watched as the liquid poured from it and over rocks. A doe was standing no more than twenty feet from the men, and had they not already been occupied Dral would have taken the shot. And again the owl questioned its visitors, and the doe replied by trotting away into the dark.

Beyond the spring was Har Wood’s heart. From then on the trail went, and there was little else to take note of. As Artemis and Dral followed, they saw a den of foxes, raccoons digging for scrap, and many more fireflies. But for all the life they saw, the girl and her companion were not among them.

Seven

Morning came, and the two stopped to rest. They had been so caught up in their search that both had forgotten just how far they traveled. They were half a day away from home now, and both were exhausted. Whoever took the girl was ready for long travel even in armor. Thankfully the spring air was warm this morning, and they were able to sleep against parallel trees without the comfort of a fire.

Artemis awoke first, as sleep was a thing his body often rejected. Even so he didn’t think he had felt this rested in year, and it brought a smile to his face. He woke his companion. Dral, who was a light sleeper, awoke and readied to nock an arrow. But seeing that his sleep was disturbed by the blacksmith, he settled down and stretched as he stood up.

They yawned simultaneously. Then both looked at the clear path. It didn’t seem that the ones they followed stopped at any point to rest yet. It lead to the other side of the wood in the plains west of Drath, a large town known for its fishing industry.

The men were hungry. And before continuing, found a doe similar to the one they’d seen the night before. Of course, they are all similar. Dral made the kill and did the cleaning. Artemis cooked the meat over a fire, and they both ate their fill. What remained after, they left for the coyotes. It was just too much to carry for half a day’s walk.

The plains made a bad place for tracking. The ground was heavily vegetated, and finding what looked beaten down is easier said than done. But the trail had been a straight line all through Har, and the two could only hope it stayed so through the fields.

The ground hardened as they walked, making any signs they saw begin to fade. The afternoon sun blared down on them whenever the clouds gave it a chance. It was unseasonably warm this day, and the two began to sweat. They could only hope for rain or another spring, as the next large patch of water would