Mortality: The Story of Mortanius

Chapter Nine

Mortanius was jolted from sleep by the sound of a woman screaming. He threw off his thin wool blanket and sat up in one quick motion, for just a split-second wondering if he had only been dreaming. And then he heard it again, a high-pitched scream. And then a crash, and another shout. His father.

He jumped up and ran through the narrow doorway into the living room of his family’s small house. Only then did he catch the smell of smoke. He froze for a moment in indecision as he watched flames spring to life outside the living room windows and realized what was happening.

“Mortanius!” his father shouted.

He bolted through the curtain into his parent’s bedroom and saw his father wrestling with someone. Mortanius braced himself and slammed with all his force into the assailant, knocking both him and his father to the floor. The man swung a thick arm up and struck Mortanius in the face, flooring him. His father struggled to his feet and swung the man around, hurling him through the curtain back into the living room.

“It’s bandits, Mortanius!” his father grunted, pulling Mortanius to his feet. “Get your sword! You’re a better fighter than me! I have to try to put out the fire!”

Mortanius, still dazed from the punch, ran back to the living room and tackled the intruder as he was trying to get out the front door. He was larger and more muscular, but the man was clearly intoxicated and clumsy because of it. Mortanius could smell alcohol still on his breath as he pushed him back and punched him in the face with all his might. The man jerked back and crashed to the floor in a heap.

At age fifteen now, Mortanius was not yet fully grown, but even so, he was as tall as his father and more muscular due to his dedication to hard work in the field and nightly sword practice. He was more than a match for a drunken brute.

He ran back to his room and grabbed his sword, which he had left leaning by the doorway. He came back out to see the flames creeping through the window frame, licking the ceiling. The front door burst open and two men charged in, both holding short blades, unlike the first man, who had apparently been unarmed.

Mortanius came at them fearlessly, swinging his sword left and right in the motions he practiced every night. The first bandit came at him but quickly backed away when he realized he was outclassed. Mortanius fought them both until they retreated back out the door into the front yard. Mortanius spared a sideways glance and saw in horror that the entire roof of the house was in flames.

He swung down and knocked the sword from the first bandit’s hand, along with probably one or two of his fingers. The man yelped and took off running, leaving Mortanius to face the second one.

In the light of the fire, Mortanius could see the man was dirty and unshaven, wearing a filthy deerskin shirt and trousers. His sword was dented and dull, but he fought well with it. Mortanius battled him for a few moments before getting a swipe in on the man’s sword arm, cutting it down to the bone. He dropped the sword immediately and fell to one knee in surrender, and Mortanius slammed the handle of his sword on the man’s temple, knocking him unconscious.

He heard the snapping of wooden beams and turned to see the roof over the front of the house collapse in a blaze of fire. Wasting no time, he ran around to the side of the house and saw his father running toward him with a bucket of water.

“It’s no use!” Mortanius shouted. “The roof just fell in!”

“We have to try! Find your mother and your sister!”

Mortanius went to his parents’ bedroom window and quickly climbed inside as his father threw the bucket of water up onto the roof. His night vision was ruined due to the brightness of the fire, but he saw his mother on the floor by the bed. He ran to her and tried to lift her to her feet.

His hands came away wet with blood, and he stared down in horror at the knife protruding from his mother’s stomach. The first man had been armed after all. In all the commotion, he and his father had not even noticed.

“Mortanius!”

The shout woke him from his paralysis. He jumped up and turned to go out through the living room without thinking. He stumbled backward when another portion of the roof collapsed, crashing down burning wood like an avalanche of fire. He covered his face against the heat and staggered back to the window as flames roared into the bedroom. He tumbled out the window and landed on his back, gasping loudly as his breath was knocked out of him.

He was torn between answering his father’s call for help and trying to find his sister. He had not seen or heard her since the attack began. But he could not get to her through the fire, and his sister’s tiny room had no window. He could only pray that she had gotten out of the house.

He got to his feet and looked around for his father, wincing in pain as he first noticed that his arm was burned. He ran off to the rear of the house and saw that his father was trying to fend off another attacker with nothing more than the water bucket.

The man attacking his father was no swordsman, but even so, his father was only barely able to fend him off. Mortanius ran as fast as he could, but someone carrying a hand axe ran around the side of the house and attacked him. He deflected the first blow easily and slashed the man’s forearm, but the attacker surprised him by fighting back, unlike the others. Mortanius spent a few precious moments fighting him before he was able to knock the axe from his hand and slash him across the thigh. The bandit fell to the ground and frantically crawled away, but Mortanius didn’t care.

He started to run to help his father, but was still too far away. As he ran, he watched as his father, too tired to defend anymore, had the bucket knocked out of his hands. The attacker laughed and stabbed Mortanius’s father right in the heart.

Mortanius screamed and descended on him like a madman, striking the man’s sword so hard that the weapons sparked. The sword flew from the man’s hand and Mortanius swung up, chopping him right across the chest. He staggered back, grasped his bloody chest, and fell to the ground.

Mortanius knelt down beside his father with trembling hands and touched his chest. He gritted his teeth, fighting off his emotions, and felt his father’s soul as it left his body. Looking into the spirit world, he could see the shimmering soul rise up like mist into the air.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, looking directly at it, forcing it towards him. The soul with the face of his father looked back, and Mortanius knew that he had communicated with it. He let go of his father and swallowed, short of breath.

He wanted to wish it well, to pray that his father and mother would be reunited in the afterlife. But he knew that would never happen. His father’s soul would traverse the spirit world and be reborn into someone else, part of the never-ending cycle that he knew so well. So instead, he released his hold on the soul and watched it drift away.

Hearing something behind him, he looked to see the that man who had killed his father was still alive, trying to crawl away. In the light from the fire, he could see the trail of blood the man left behind.

Mortanius picked up his sword and walked over to the man. He used his foot to push him onto his back, and looked down at his pathetic form. He was cut almost from shoulder to hip, but not deep enough to kill right away, but the man would surely not last long. He was covered in his own blood, and gasping for each breath. Blood even seeped from the edges of his mouth as he stared up at Mortanius in resignation.

Mortanius plunged his sword directly into the man’s heart, pushing down on the blade until it went all the way through the man’s body and stuck in the ground. The man shuddered and spit up blood before going still.

But Mortanius was not going to let him go that easily.

He was overcome with hatred. Hatred at the men who had attacked his family. Hatred at the world that had allowed it to happen. Hatred at the vampires, who had the strength to stop this sort of thing from happening but refused to meddle in human affairs. And most of all, hatred at himself for being unable to stop it. All his years of training, all the magical powers granted by the Pillar, all the hard work and good intentions in the world had amounted to nothing.

He reached down and forced his power into the spirit world. The bandit’s soul was still there, just having left the body, and Mortanius snatched it from the ether with the force of his powers. He exerted all the strength he knew and forced the soul back into the man’s body. Sweat dripped from his face as he fought with the soul, going against the natural course and bending the spirit world to his will.

The bandit gasped and his eyes jerked open, staring in absolute terror at Mortanius. He was alive once more, but not for long. Mortanius held onto the sword and pushed it sideways, cutting more into the man’s body. He screamed in agonizing pain and thrashed around once more before going still.

And once again, Mortanius reached into the spirit world and forced the soul back into the body. And again, and again, killing the man over and over, forcing him to experience the pain of death time after time.

Mortanius lost track of how many times he killed the man, but finally, the exertion was too much for him and he passed out.

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