Perhaps some small, foolishly optimistic part of himself still held onto some hope as he crossed the room towards her. But with every step that hope died. There was no question of it now, she was gone.
Standing beside her enthroned corpse, Raziel looked upon her sadly. Her plea for aid had been the desperate act of a scared little girl, crying out for help. Now her body sat there, face devoid of hope and emotion, blood crusted upon the slit wound across her neck.
.
“So ended Alicia Ottmar, last of the Ottmar bloodline of the lion kingdom of Willendorf. I was too late.”
.
Looking down her body, his eyes travelling his gaze rested upon the object in her lap which she seemed to cradle. Gently he pulled a stiffened hand away and he saw that sitting there was a crude clothe doll. It was a rude piece of craftsmanship fashioned from dirty rags and stuffed with the same. Its body was only barely human shaped and its eyes were smudged and broken buttons held in place with only one stitch. Held to the side of the offensive things head was a lock of brown hair, held in place by a rusty and bent nail driven straight through its head.
Is the dolls he had seen so far held the souls of all of the victims of the denizen of his filthy place then this doll’s presence could only mean one thing. Gently he plucked the doll from the grasp of the corpse and held it up.
Staring into the dull and dirty eyes of the thing, somehow, he discerned and sensed an awareness looking back at him.
“Is she..?” Ariel’s voice asked tentatively from within the vaults of his mind. Raziel only stared at the toy in his hands, his eyebrows knitting into a grim frown. The Doll contained a soul he could sense that, feel its energy humming inside its encapsulation. There was no way to tell if it was indeed the right soul but the chances were good.
Perhaps he had indeed arrived too late to save her life, but not too late to save her soul.
.
“She would not suffer the same fate as the rest of her blood, entrapped inside such a crude doll to be molested at Elzevir’s whim.”
.
With a determined nod he turned to go back the way he had come, doll in hand when he found his path blocked. Standing there between him and the exit was the dollmaker. The little man’s face was set with a scowl of annoyance and his hands rested upon the pommel of the sword, the stolen Soul Reaver. To either side and behind him stood three of his piper minion, flutes of bone to their lips ready to sing their deadly song.
Slowly Raziel placed the doll back down on the lap of the corpse and stood between Elzevir and his prize, body tensed with talons spread out to either side. He could already feel the first vibrations of the paradox, his proximity to the blade and his soul contained inside beginning the temporal fluxation.
“That doesn’t belong to you.” The dollmaker said, the side of his face twitching. His hands tightened convulsively on the hilt of the sword.
“And it doesn’t belong to you either, little man.”  Raziel replied coldly and with all the distain he felt, eyes narrowing at him. “Nor do any of the souls you’ve stolen.”
Elzevir apparently did not have much self control. His patience and nerve seemed to break and he bared his teeth, hissing like an animal and his eyes wide with fury.
“They’re mine! All mine!” He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. He raised the sword and gestures around, indicating the entire house and the horrors contained therein. “The Ottmar’s gave them to me!”
That one sentence, here in this time and place, were enough. It was like the final piece of the puzzle clicking into place, the whole picture finally exposed. Raziel stood there staring at him silently, his mind racing and connecting the memories buried deep within him to his conscious mind. In that instant he recalled. Kain had been sitting on his throne, hand resting on the pommel of the sword as he talked to the assembled council of the clan leaders. He had been once again regaling them with stories of his exploits and actions during his younger days. He had mentioned it only briefly in explanation of a larger more important event, about a strange little old man who had converted a princess’ soul.
.
“I knew him. It was no fabulous realisation which left me surprised or even taken aback. It was just a final piece to make a puzzle complete and the image left me filled with repugnant loathing.”
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Raziel gave a growl of disgust and flicked his wrist, the wraith blade erupting forth and humming intently. Its ethereal glow lit up the darkened room. And Elzevir stared at it, face locked into an expression that gave no emotion but told of intent madness.
“So you are the Dollmaker...” Raziel began flatly and with cold distain, memories ironclad now in his absolute certainty. “The minor wizard of no great significance who stole the soul of King Ottmar’s daughter, before the battle of the last stand against the Legions of the Nemesis.”
Elzevir stood there, confused incredulity plain on his face now.
“You speak gibberish creature!” He spat back, shaking with suppressed rage. Raziel however found the entire affair now vastly amusing.
“Yes I imagine I would to you wouldn’t I?” He asked rhetorically, lifting an eyebrow at the frustrated little man. The Pipers around the dollmaker all turned their heads to look down at him and Raziel could see that in his anger, Elzevir was losing a little bit of control over them. His minions bodies flickered like a candle flame a little each time the dollmaker snarled in anger, as if it was only his conscious effort and will that kept them here.
“Kain killed you.” Raziel began, deciding to push the perverse human off balance.  “But when he murdered William in the past, history was rewritten. If the Nemesis never existed then Kain would have had no reason to kill you to galvanise the Willendorf armies.”
Elzevir’s nervous tick was growing so eventually one side of his face seemed to be contracting, exposing his yellowed teeth. The piper to his right raised up one hand and looked at it, its form fading in and out as if it couldn’t decide whether it existed or not.
“You are Kain’s loose end.” The blue wraith pressed on, taking a step forward and changing his tone to one as insulting as he could possibly manage. “You were restored to life by a mere oversight. In short, you lucked out.”
He felt the wraith blade out before him, flickering like a sword aflame.
“Today your luck ends.” Not giving the dollmaker a chance to collect his infuriated wits, Raziel leapt straight at him. He brought the Reaver around in an arch aimed directly at the man’s face. One of the Pipers came forward instant to protect its master, spinning up into mid air and landing a powerful kick to the blue wraith’s chest. Raziel was thrown backwards by the impact but he controlled his fall, skidding to a stop along the floor.
The piper that kicked him went in another attack while the two others hung back and lifted their instruments to their lips. Together they began to play a haunting duo of song, the notes of the ghostly song combining into a commanding and dominating melody neither of them could conjure on their own.
Suddenly with a lurch, the toys all around the room began to sway and move on their own accord. The dozens of teddy bears quivered as if in the grip of a seizure. Raziel starred with wide eyes before he was forced to duck at that first piper came at him with an overhead swing. Dancing back out of his way, Raziel backed off until his back connected with something soft.
Turning around sharply and then glancing up, Raziel saw that looming over him was one of the larger stuffed toys, a large teddy bear with a blank expressionless face. It raised its felt arm and out from the fabric popped metallic blades arranged like claws. The arm descended towards him in a heartbeat, swinging down with its dagger like claws singing in the air. Acting on instinct Raziel back flipped in an instant, narrowly avoiding the swipe. Using the lunging Piper’s shoulders as a springboard he vaulted up and then down behind it. The wraith blade flourished in a wide arch, cleaving the flesh of the creature as it descended. The ethereal weapon sliced down and its back burst open, the bloodless contents inside exposure. The Piper gagged and stumbled forward, arms wrapping around its chest as if to keep its torso from splitting completely in half.
Raziel tried to move in to finish it off but the massive stuffed teddy marched across his path, swinging its arms wildly to try and hit him. Dodging the clumsy swipes Raziel felt patently ridiculous to be fighting an oversized child’s toy.
It came down at him with a lunge reminiscent of an actual Bear and Raziel slide down, feeling the blades slice through his wings. It was not a large injury but the loss of energy necessary to repair it caused a momentary flinch. That one lapse allowed the large furry foot to pin him to the floor. For a stuffed construction made of felt, fur and wool it was surprisingly stroke and heavy. It kept him pinned down there and it felt no pain from the wounds he inflicted with his talons, raking through the fabric.
It yielded to the Reaver eventually as he brought the blade up and sliced through its leg from the knee downward. Caught off balance the giant toy stumbled backwards with a loud thump and the blue wraith rolled out from underneath it.
“You shan’t have it!” Elzevir spat, his voice a high pitched wail. With the stolen Reaver he gesticulated wildly around, only vaguely waving it in Raziel’s direction. The pipers followed his direction, their song causing the stuffed animals all around to leap up in response entranced like snakes before a charm.  “Mine, mine, mine!”
Smaller toys marched on the floor towards him, waddling like babies awkwardly in a swaying gait, innocent looking until when commanded their lead forth their blade claws. They were slow and clumsy but so many of them of various sizes Raziel was kept on the defensive, darting back and forth to avoid being cut to ribbons.
The third piper came at him again, kicking out with its long legs at his head. Raziel parried the attack aside and ducked slow to avoid a punch. A teddy bear with a short sword jutting out of its left arm jabbed at him on the floor and he rolled to the left to escape it, between the stubby legs of another of the larger.
The sheers numbers were keeping him from attacking the root of the problem. There had to be a way to clear a path for him to land a fatal blow.
Then he saw the rafters above again and acting on instinct, he ran at the largest of the lumbering toys in front of him. The lumbering teddy bear turned to try and confront him but its massive stuffed bulk made it too slow and leaping up across its body, Raziel used its head as a stepping stone and vaulted up onto the rafters.
Above the stumbling army of toys, the blue wraith gained a moment of breathing space to coordinate a strategy and to go for the head of this serpent. Not losing momentum, he leapt from rafter to rafter in the dollmaker’s general direction. On the last rafter before he reached his target, a hand snapped up and latched onto his ankle holding him in place. Glancing down sharply he could see that climbing up the rafter’s underside like a spider was the injured piper, grinning maniacally at him despite the gaping wound across its back.
As it climbed up to be level with him, its body twisted impossibly around and it lashed out with fists that blurred in their attacks. One blow caught the Raziel across the cheek and he swung backwards, catching onto the ceiling with his talons to steady himself. The piper relentlessly came on with another raised fist.
The blue wraith twisted to one side, narrowing avoiding the strong blow and brought the wraith blade up sharply. The ghostly sword cleaved through flesh and bone and the creature fist separated from the arm. Its own momentum carried it on until it slammed into the woodwork of the roof. Injured and dismembered, the irrepressibly smiling creature took a step backwards on the rafter. Raziel swung forward, forcing all the energy and strength he could muster into the wraith blade. He swung his right arm up and then across and it screamed in its motion.
The piper didn’t move an inch for an entire second. Then its torso slid to its left and its leg to the side and its body lost cohesion and fell apart. The line of dividing carried on past the body and through the rafter itself. The stout beam of wood fell into two pieces and each half swung down with a loud creaking, smashing several of the smaller stuffed toes and one of the larger ones. The splintered wood ripped through the woollen fabric of their bodies.
Raziel landed amidst a cloud of flying wood fragments. He moved fast then, darting up to the still moving body of the Piper he had dropped. It was trying to reattach its legs to its hips. Raziel swung the Reaver down, once, twice, and carved the rest of its body apart.
With its physical body unable to keep its spectral form contained any more, its true visage appeared in a blinding flash. The Archon swung back and forth, its spindly forearms struggling wildly to free itself. As its fish like tail escaped the crumbling remains its body faded, becoming transparent before disappearing and vanishing completely with a soft wail.
“You’re ruining everything!” The dollmaker was screaming at him, livid and stamping his foot.  His face was purple with rage and his eyes bulged dramatically. With his left hand around the hilt of the physical Reaver he was waving the sword around above his head.
“My collection, my power!” His voice had risen to almost a shrill screech. Raziel read anger, frustration and strangely, terror in his eyes.  “I was nothing! Nothing before I found the sword!” The two pipers at his side were looking at each other across their instruments and their bodies were starting to flicker. In his rage the doll maker was losing his grip on his servants again.
“Master promised me power! Promised me eternal life!” Spittle was flying from the little man’s lips in his madness. “Promised me I could be a Divus!”
Raziel brought his left arm back, talons spreading wide. The little man was so foolishly without poise or composure he had left himself wide open to defeat.
“I’m sure they’d just love to have you.” The blue wraith remarked and threw his arm forward, a pulse of concentrated telekinetic force flying out from his hand. It shot across the distance between and between the two pipers, whose eyes widened in silent surprise. With a loud meaty smack it collided into the dollmaker’s face, striking him fully in the nose. The impact threw the human off his feet and back, tumbling end of end until it collided with the far door. The physical Reaver was blasted far from his slack hand. The wooden door bent inwards at the impact of the dollmakers body but did not break. Elzevir crumbled to the floor spitting blood and teeth. His nose had been broken.
The sword he had dropped clattered along the floor, sliding until it came to a stop by the foot of a large teddy bear which was still standing.
.                                                                                                                                                                
“With the loss of the sword, the corporal forms of his minions seemed in doubt. They seemed to lose cohesion and break apart.”
.
Raziel watched the two Pipers sway back and forth, their pallid skin beginning to boil as if it were water, twisting around inside their frames like a smeared oil painting. In turn, the many toys around them twitched and staggered and lost much of their previous animation. As Raziel had suspected, the Lion share of Elzevir’s power had indeed been augmented by the blade. Without it he could not maintain the level of the control necessary.
What happened next was something of a blur in Raziel’s mind. He had started moving before he was even aware that he had been. As the doll maker looked up at him, hissing with anger Raziel had reached the blade. The temporal distortion was very strong with such close proximity. The entire room pulsated around the sword with its axis point. The sensation was the same as it had been in William’s chapel, only with one large alteration. The pull to fulfil some action, either against his will or with, was absent.
As his hand reached down, the sense of temporal flux increased to fever pitch and became frantic as his hand closed around the hilt.
The two Reaver’s met each other again, screaming out in greeting. Twisting and writhing like a coiled snake the wraith blade spread itself down and around the physical sword. The entrapped soul within, his own now past self, responded with a growl of awakened arousal.
.
“With the Sword in my hand, I could feel reality twist in response to more than one of my soul being present in the same place at the same time. Before I was almost at the mercy of such events, forced to perform some predestined action which only every ounce of my willpower had permitted me to overturn. Now the tables had tuned and I was in full control.”
.
Holding the blade aloft, he watched the eyes of the skull cross glow brightly and burn with a ghostly blue fire. The serpentine blade sparked of bolts of ethereal lightning travelling down its length and pulsing with a glow that matched the temporal distortion that only Raziel seemed to be able to feel and sense.  
Elzevir looked up at him, the expression of madness draining from his face to be replaced by pure and utter horror.
“Twined blades now coiled in sinister embrace.” Raziel started with his voice inflected deeply and full of intent malice. “Inspire terror in the hearts of creatures of far more consequence than beyond you.” Slowly he turned the sword to point its tip directly towards the frightened little man.
“This time I think I ‘will’ see what they can do a souls fragile shell.”