- Part One: https://cheesmanchronicles.com/2024/11/04/the-swordsmith-part-one/
- Part Two: https://cheesmanchronicles.com/2024/11/11/the-swordsmith-part-two/
Mary successfully delivered proof of Miles Rangers demise to the king, along with the happy and safe prince. The king thanked her most generously, quickly offering the life changing amount of 2000 gold pieces. She took it gracefully and departed, masking her fear over what the sword showed her.
She retreated to a small house inside the castle walls. Her reward paid for half a years rent, giving her time to focus on what she had experienced. The strange and disturbing vision she had when the man died at her steel, her sword.
The following weeks after that event Mary had tried to recreate the experience by testing the weapon on other animals. The fly’s that landed on her desk, the game she went out to hunt for, the insects that made it into the bathroom. Just to see what would happen if she used the sword on them. If it was just a strange hallucination and nothing more.
It wasn’t. Each creature she attacked would force her to relive the life events of that being. Feeling all the emotions they felt, the sights they saw, the sounds they heard, the aroma they breathed. Everything that they had experienced had become Mary’s to cope with, to deal with the consequences of her murdering.
The flies she hit would show her brief flashes of existing as a small creature in a large world, free from the shackles of gravity and able to move through the air like a fish in the ocean. Each sensation was simple – just an experience of being hungry and content – but it became her own feeling.
The animals she would usually hunt became more difficult to do so. Much of their life was in a strange world of fear and worry, constantly stretching their senses out to look for predators or prey so that they were not ambushed. Killing those ones had been tough. That final moment when they are able to relax. The fear was over. They were done.
Mary never had a problem killing before. Sure, the first few people she took down were difficult, they always are. But since then it has been easy. It’s just a job. There’s no hate or malice in it. Just an assignment.
Just a kill.
She shook her head as the thoughts repeated themselves over and over again. No use in letting them take over her mind. It would just force her to think harder about it. Nothing would be done.
After the solitary week of mulling the issues over and over in her mind, she decided to visit the place where this all started. She packed up her things, stashed the sword tightly in it’s sheathe, and headed down to Walter’s Weapons. The shop shouldn’t be too far from her place. Just a few stops past the market, then down the alley. Easy.
Yet when she made it to his store, there was nothing there. Just a scented candle shop selling fancy smells at overpriced value. Mary frowned and headed inside, hoping to get some answers.
A bell over her rang as she enters, just as it did last time. However the layout was completely different to before. For one, it smelt amazing. The aroma of different plants and animals, clean soap and fresh lilies, tasty food and fresh springs, all of it was enough to calm her down in an instant. She relaxed her guard as a woman at the counter waved.
“Hello, Ms,” the store owner said. “Come to get a candle? We have some great ones for gifts if you wish. Very important this time of the year.”
“Hi,” Mary said. “No, I’m not here for the candles. I was just wondering if you knew what happened to the last owner of this place? Guy named Walter lived here, I believe.”
“Walter?” she said. “Ah, yes, that man. Yes, he left this place about a month ago. Sold his entire stock and went to live out in the woods. No idea why, just wanted to get away. I suppose he was rather old. Must be in retirement. Though then again I always got the sense that he was a constant worker. Someone who would just collapse while on the job and that would be that. I remember one time-“
“Do you know where he is?” Mary interrupted her. She would probably keep going if not stopped. “Do you have an address or anything like that?”
“An address?” she chuckled. “I can’t say for sure I do. Maybe go check the city records for that.”
“City records? But that could take months! I need him now.”
“I’m sorry, dear. I don’t know where he lives. He just isn’t here any more.”
Mary rolled her eyes and left the store. The shopkeeper waved them out and got back to stocking shelves and smelling the air around her. Nothing important. Not a care for her last interaction.
Mary headed down the road and back through the market place, mumbling to herself. So it would be a dead-end on where Walter was. At least he sounded real. She half expected the store owner to say that he was just some figment of her imagination. That she had been cursed to carry this weapon. So that was good.
Theoretically.
It still didn’t answer the question of how to dispose of the sword. She didn’t know many other shops in town that sold weapons, let alone took them back. The pawn shop would ask too many questions for it to be worth the trouble. Going through the bureaucracy of the city centre would be a nightmare. Giving it to a random stranger was just as bad as anything else. What could she do to fix this?
As she walked through the streets, she felt eyes following her. She glanced around to see a person wearing a large hood, blocking most of their features. It quickly turned away and got back to drinking some tea. Mary frowned and started at the individual. She never trusted someone wearing a large coat during the warm months. They had something to hide.
She approached the person, she now identified as a man, and sat opposite him.
“What were you looking at me for?” she demanded.
“Me?” he said. “Nothing. Just admiring the view.”
Mary took out her machete and placed it on the table. “Say something like that again and this becomes your knee. Now: why were you watching me?”
The man hesitated, looking down to the machete with more interest than fear. He looked up. Mary couldn’t see much of his face yet, just his grinning mouth.
“I’m surprised you’d threaten me with such a brute force method of pain,” he said. “Aren’t you feeling a bit more hesitant to kill now?”
Mary’s eyes flinched slightly. “What do you know about that?”
“The sword you carry,” he said. “I know what it is. I know what you did with it. How it shows you visions of those whom it kills. I can help you get rid of it.”
Mary frowned and leaned forward. “Who are you?”
“I’m a wizard,” he said. “I could sense the evil of that sword from a kilometre away. I want to help you.”
“Help me how?” she said. “I know a con when I see one. Believe me, I’ve played a few myself. How do I know you’re not going to just sell this and use it for something worse?”
“You don’t,” he smiled. “But can you risk that right now?”
Mary hesitated. “No.”
“Exactly,” the man said. “Follow me.”
He stood up and began walking down a narrow alleyway. Mary followed close behind, holding onto her machete for assurance. She was yet to trust him. Even if he was genuine, and he had good intentions, there was no way of telling if something worse would happen.
They made it to a waiting horse and carriage. The wizard helped her in and they took of out of the city. Mary stared at the wizard, machete drawn and ready.
“Where are you taking me,” she demanded.
“Somewhere safe,” he said calmly. “I would appreciate it if you lowered that weapon, by the way. Could be dangerous if we hit a bump in the road.”
Mary narrowed her gaze, trying to peek under his hood.
“Who are you?”
The wizard smiled and lowered his hood. “My name is Ordan.”
Mary’s grip on the machete faltered. Now that the hood of the wizard was removed she had a good idea of what he looked like now. And he was weirdly attractive. A strong jaw line, a few scars along his eyes that had just about healed, long flowing brown hair that shined in what little light the cabin offered. Paired with his smile his eyes were disarming and beautifully piercing.
She shook her head. She could worry about looks later. She still needed answers.
“Alright, Ordan,” she began. “What do you know about the sword? What’s your role in it?”
He winced slightly at the mention of the sword. Now that the defence of anonymity was dropped, he could be more open about what was going on. And that seemed to effect him in a powerful way. He had to be honest.
“I made that sword,” he said, lowering his head back into the shadows. “Many years ago now. It was for a rather brutal king I served. He would kill left and right at a moments notice, often committing the act himself. So when he demanded I make him a new blade for him, I cursed it to show the memories of those it slays. At the time, I thought it would make him realise what killing was really all about – taking a life. To experience the thoughts and hopes and emotions of someone as they die would change his views on killing. Even for a moment. I… I was wrong.”
“Wrong how?” Mary asked, now more empathetic. From what she could tell his words were genuine. And his story lined up with the sword itself. It was a rather regal weapon, not something made quickly for the army. More for ceremonies.
“I thought that killing with the sword would make him reconsider death. In a way, he did, though not how I thought he would. He began to love it. Seeing the visions of those he vanquished help solidify what he was doing was right and just. It was a drug. He would kill three people each day when he had the chance. I attempted to thwart him in combat but he didn’t give in easily. The sword made on an expert at fighting. You can’t easily hit someone while they wield it.”
“I know,” Mary nodded, recalling her fight with Miles. How the weapon seemed to appear in her hand when she needed it, deflecting the blows without her realising it.
“Indeed,” Ordan agreed. “I didn’t win the fight. He cut me along the face here and banished me from the city. I was lucky. Not many people can say they have been hit by the blade and walk away.”
“So what happened next?” Mary asked. “Obviously he doesn’t have it any more.”
“Correct,” he said. “A little over a decade ago the king was assassinated in his sleep. I think the sword had something to do with it, though I can’t prove it. Perhaps he turned the weapon on himself, perhaps someone killed him in his sleep, I’m not sure. Either way, the sword was lost to history. To my knowledge only I and a small group of people knew of it’s powers. But I knew that wouldn’t last for long. I’ve been tracking it ever since. I only got lucky when I heard about your work with that kidnapper. Good work on that, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Mary said. “So now what will we do with the sword?”
“Destroy it,” Ordan said. “Get rid of it’s powers for good. It’s the only way.”
The carriage they were in began to slow down and stop. Ordan looked out the window and nodded approvingly.
“We’ve arrived at my tower,” he said. “Bring the sword with you. We can rid it of it’s curse together.”
He departed the carriage and turned to Mary, still sitting inside. He held out a hand.
“Come with me,” he said.
“What do you need me for?”
“The curse is attached to who used the sword last. I need to separate you from it first before it can be properly destroyed. So I ask again: come with me.”
Mary hesitated. The request was an odd one. She still wasn’t entirely sure that what he was saying was the truth. That he was just luring her with a strange story in the hopes of acquiring the weapon for himself. Even if he did tell the truth, how could she be sure that she would be safe from the effects of the curse lifting? There were too many variables.
She shook her head. There was no other way out of this. Worst case scenario, this man kills her and steals the sword for himself. She would have done her best to rid it with all she knew. No one could blame her.
And best-case scenario, the sword will be destroyed and she would be free.
She took his hand and left the carriage, ascending the cobble path towards the wizards tower.
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