Soul Stealer: Legacy of the Blade

by Joseph J. Bailey

  Instead, we had demonic hordes and lives lived furtively in the shadows.

  When a flock of wyverns flew overhead I was so startled that I dropped face-first to the ground of the road bed. Thankfully, I did not draw their attention or I might have ended up as reptile food.

  Or, more likely, the beasts recognized how intimidating I was and steered clear of the superior predator.

  That they had probably just feasted on something else had no bearing on their flight from my prowess.

  Snorting, I stood boldly and dusted myself off, tactfully spitting out the mouthful of dust, leaves, and twigs I had swallowed on my graceful descent to the road.

  I must be, I decided, quite the sight.

  “Run, Saedeus!

  “Dive into the water!”

  Not taking the time to question, I sprinted to the road’s elevated edge where it overlooked a particularly dark, almost black, expanse of water. Without pausing to think rationally, I maintained my forward momentum and dove head-first into the mire.

  Crack!

  Bright lights exploded behind my eyes as I hit something far too solidly with the top of my skull.

  Trying to orient myself, gasping for air, I erupted out of the water facing the knotty, irregular knee of a massive swamp cypress’s root.

  So much for looking before I leaped.

  “Get down!”

  I got down, my teeth clamping around the reed still in my mouth.

  “Stay under as long as you can. If you must come up, do so slowly and cautiously.

  “Do not draw attention to yourself.”

  Afraid to even ask why, I followed Alric’s advice.

  As my lungs began to burn, urging me to come up for air, my fears told me to stay down even more urgently.

  Reaching something of a compromise, I stuck the reed still clamped in my mouth up above the water’s surface, blew out the silty water in the plant’s hollow, and took a welcome breath.

  Slowly regathering my wits—recognizing that I could only use that term loosely in my case—I sought outward with my inner vision, keeping my eyes closed all the while as I tried to locate the source of Alric’s concern.

  To my dismay, and the further undermining of my sense of self-worth, I realized the wyverns had not fled my presence.

  The dragonkin had bolted from something far worse.

  A massive shape sullied the heavens, its vile presence spreading over the treetops in an abominable stain as it circled lazily above.

  The infernal was an eclipse of evil, a vast presence blocking the light above, the chill of winter manifest, roaring up from the deepest lifeless pits and the maw of insanity, threatening to consume any who peered too deeply within its mind-shattering heart.

  Without my eyes to see its physical manifestation, I only sensed the demon’s presence.

  And that was more than enough.

  Whatever it was, the demon was a thing of true power, essence-drinking Darkness radiating out from its many-limbed form in clouds of abnegation.

  Thankfully, it was not looking for me.

  I hoped.

  I was never so glad to stay put in a swamp, my anxieties of what might lay in wait to snatch me up in the murky waters far less than my fear of facing the monster flying overhead.

  “What is that, Alric?”

  Alric’s voice was a low growl. “That, Saedeus, is a Duaga, a demon lord.”

  That was something I never wanted to encounter again.

  “Can it not sense Loer’allon’s presence?

  “Why is it not coming for us?”

  “Loer’allon can mask her essence, as you will need to learn to do.”

  He paused, then added, “You are beneath the demon lord’s notice, Saedeus. For that, you should be thankful until the end of your days.”

  I was already thankful and the day had not ended yet.

  When the demon had been gone so long that I began to go numb from cold, when I had not sensed its soul-marring essence in many long minutes, I decided there was a small chance that I might be safe enough to risk getting out of the water.

  If only for a moment.

  I crawled up the bank shivering, unable to feel my extremities or properly control their movement.

  Covered in muck from my ordeal, my skin shriveled from exposure, I was about as mobile and attractive as a water-soaked log.

  “Unsheathe Loer’allon. Her Light will warm and refresh you.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “Wiser than hypothermia, I would venture.”

  “And when did you learn sarcasm?”

  “After saving you for about the thirtieth time, I have learned what gets your attention.”

  “Dinner?”

  “No. An attitude.”

  I smiled as I drew Loer’allon.

  Alric knew me too well.

  Spells Uncast

  To say I am a horrible spell caster would be an understatement.

  To say I am an abysmal magician would be but a pale shadow of the truth.

  I am but the vaguest reflection of a blurred shadow far beneath the most abyssal levels of the lowliest magical talent.

  Which makes my rather uncanny (at least according to Alric) abilities as a Djen’toth all the more surprising.

  Thankfully, by harvesting the abilities of many people who had at least a modicum of sorcerous talent, I was beginning to learn far faster than I would have been able to otherwise and with far greater skill.

  I was cheating.

  Which came as no surprise.

  Through a lifetime of practice I had already discovered I was rather good at duplicity.

  Considering how unfair the world was, at least from my anthropocentric perspective, I actually had no ethical qualms about this state of affairs.

  I did what I must to survive, even if it involved cheating.

  Those of true talent may look down upon how slowly and begrudgingly magical Craft revealed itself to me, just as they may abhor the means by which even that reluctant progress slowly manifested, but I could not care less.

  All I cared about was doing what I needed to do to survive another day through whatever means necessary. Whether I learned magical skill via natural talent, diligent study, or inadvertently stealing the life force and knowledge of unsuspecting arcane practitioners was of little concern to me.

  Even so, I still struggled.

  I was, after all, trying to learn and use several talents at once.

  Taking in another’s essence was one thing, learning to read and understand what I could of the person whose essence I now shared was a greater challenge, but actually making use of that knowledge in a meaningful way presented far greater difficulty.

  So, even cheating was not exactly easy.

  Or successful.

  But I got much further along in my arcane training than I would have otherwise.

  Which is another way of saying at least I got somewhere instead of nowhere.

  Aside from the begrudging assistance of those souls that somehow now called me home, I also had one other advantage that many initial practitioners of magic lacked.

  I could see what I was doing.

  No matter how pitiful the manifestation or unlikely the result of my efforts, I could, on some level, see, feel, and engage with the energies I manipulated. Through my inner vision, however badly I failed, I could get an idea of what I was doing and actively work to change the results for the better.

  In my case, trying to make things better often made things worse, but in some ways I could still tell what was going on…in theory.

  Practically, I felt as lost as a motherless puppy.

  But at least I had something to build on.

  I hoped.

  So, it was often with no small degree of amusement that I watched the mysterious manifestations of my magical practice.

  While Alric might coach me on the many ways to manifest a small glowing orb suitable for use by someone lost inside a cave deep within the bowels of the ear
th, I would take pleasure in the billowing cloud of feathers that was the actual result.

  I was good at being bad.

  “Let’s try this again, Saedeus.

  “Stop trying so hard.”

  I did not remark on the irony of Alric’s encouragement.

  Even time itself could grow frustrated with my inability to budge.

  “Magical energies are all around you.

  “Magical energies are part of you.

  “Fundamentally, this essence is everything…all that is possible, all that can be possible.

  “Imagine the manifestation of the essence you wish to create as an image in your mind.

  “Do not try to shape it.

  “Do not try to mold it.

  “Do not try to force it.

  “Let it be.

  “Let the essence express itself.

  “Letting magic express itself is the true nature of spellcasting.

  “You are just an intermediary.

  “You do not make magic happen.

  “You let magic happen.

  “Get out of the way!”

  And there was the true crux of the matter.

  I never really was very good at getting out of the way.

  Getting in the way, well, that was another matter entirely.

  Which explained quite a lot about my lack of talent in many childhood games.

  But I digress.

  As usual.

  So, by my very nature, I was the antithesis of a true magician.

  At least I knew where I stood.

  Exactly opposite where I wanted to be.

  Thankfully, as impatient as I could be, Alric was more patient.

  He did not give up on me when I was ready to give up on myself.

  “You’ve told me you can see and feel the essence.

  “Visualize the essence in your mind.

  “Envision the light you wish to create.

  “See its golden-white glow. Feel the soft warmth of its touch.

  “Let it be in your mind and the world will follow!”

  I could almost see the sap weeping out from the surrounding trees.

  And they were not maples.

  Alric was laying it on.

  I sighed and regrouped.

  I was not being fair to Alric.

  This view of magic was what he believed and, in truth, his views had more merit than mine because he could do the very thing that I could not.

  I could try to channel his ability.

  But that would be cheating.

  And, yes, I recognized the irony of my self-contradiction.

  So I tried.

  I imagined the diffuse light of the essence all around in my mind. I felt its expansive lightness, its boundless depths and untold potentials. With my awareness grounded in the essence, the intrinsic energies swirling all around, I pictured a bright ball of light in the air before me, one that could rest gently in the palm of my outstretched hand, casting a sure glow off the tree trunks looming heavenward above.

  I did not believe the light was there.

  I did not force the light to be there.

  I did not manipulate the energy for the light to be there.

  I was the light in my mind while abiding in the essence.

  I felt something tickle the skin of my open palm.

  Was that warmth?

  Had I felt the movement of energy manifesting my vision?

  I opened my eyes excitedly.

  A white fluffy ball rested in my hand.

  It looked like nothing so much as fibrils arranged with the regular geometric patterning of a dandelion seed head.

  I was crestfallen.

  I dropped my hand, exhaled slowly, and tried to hide my disappointment.

  “Open your eyes, Saedeus!”

  I did.

  The feathery, filamentous ball remained suspended in the air.

  And it glowed!

  My plans to become the world’s greatest archmage were not derailed!

  I could do this!

  At least in my own way.

  Alric’s compliments were glowing.

  Like my ball of fuzz.

  “You are the first person I have met who successfully manifested a ball of fluff on his first try!”

  Here was the sarcasm he had been practicing.

  I was ready for it.

  I had a lifetime of practice in this arcane art.

  In this realm, even the mightiest archmages bowed before my derisive talent.

  Before I could give a snide retort, Alric offered his praise. “Creating a physical object that glows represents an order of magnitude greater difficulty than merely creating an energetic expression, Saedeus.

  “Not only that, but your physical object actually did what you wished for it to do.

  “For that you should be proud!”

  When he sensed my ego swelling faster than the speed of sarcasm, he added firmly, “But you still need to learn to cast the simplest spells properly.

  “Otherwise you will never have any true idea of what you may manifest.

  “Therein lies the ultimate danger to yourself and others.

  “So let’s try that sphere of light again.”

  So we did.

  Over and over until my eyes burned from the visualization, until the sun in all its fearsome summer intensity lived furiously behind my eyes, and I feared I would never see again.

  But, after some number of tries I care not to repeat, I was finally able to cast an orb of light.

  And it did not even look like a dandelion.

  But I was still far away from being able to hide myself from a demon prince.

  Higher Ground

  Eventually the swamps dried.

  Or, more accurately, I left their region of local depression.

  Which is not to say that I was depressed, only that the land was…geographically.

  I entered another region of rolling hills and forestland.

  The few fields present were indications of former human inhabitation.

  In these areas left open to the sky, lustrous grasses shimmered in kaleidoscopic swathes, overhung by the hoary limbs of ancient trees along the meadows’ edges, the magical nature of the plants evinced not just by their luminous forms but in the myriad expressions of the essence playing lightly over the plants’ swaying leaves, fronds, and flowers.

  Becoming more and more wild and beautiful in humanity’s absence, the land also evoked a startling fragility, as if this beauty were too frail to last, a temporary boon that would soon pass with the seasons. There was, to my eyes, a vulnerability to the place that demonic occupation would soon shatter, sullying wonders decades in the making.

  That the land had survived many years after demonic incursion belied this impression somewhat, but I worried nonetheless, for magic alone was unlikely to halt demonic corruption.

  My mind filled with visions of massive clawed feet shattering the swaying stalks of grass like delicate crystal, the shards churned into the earth, trees shattered, the woods burnt to the ground, the streams filled with soot and effluent, and the land made barren and defiled.

  But I was, above all, an optimist.

  My visions did not have to come to pass if enough people came together and found a way to throw back the demons and seal the wound that allowed them into our world.

  Though parts of Uërth had indeed met a similar fate, such an outcome was not guaranteed.

  I would see to that.

  By bravely returning my sword and running away to the farthest corner of Maeron and going to ground.

  Was Alric getting to me?

  Was his essence corrupting my own with higher visions and ideals?

  Was his presence within me steering me away from my natural tendencies to lie low and get out of the way?

  Was he somehow guiding me toward false hope and the possibilities that such foolish ideas revealed?

  Or did I have a conscience that I had been neglecting for far too long?
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br />   Was my mind rebelling against the atrocities it had seen after being sheltered in self-serving isolation for most of my life?

  Were my thoughts and actions my own, an internal realignment pushing me to be someone different—more just, of broader view, and deeper thought—than I had been?

  Could I be embarking on this quest of my own will and volition, not just to return an object of great value but to cast off a part of myself that was unwanted and in need of change?

  Was I serious?

  Really?

  Did I want this?

  Was this necessary for me?

  Could I actually make a difference?

  Shaking my head, I trudged onward, letting these questions bounce around in my head like so many nuts falling from trees, ducking low so as to not get whacked on my noggin by a particularly large or solid one, hoping that these considerations would resolve themselves or at least come to a new state of equilibrium that I could live with through the days ahead.

  Who knew?

  Maybe these notions would grow into new trees themselves and form a new forest, one I could live in and be proud to call home.

  If I were lucky, it might even have mushrooms.

  How We Got Here

  When I was young, I often wondered why the world had not been overrun by demons.

  Then I began to grow up and realized that people could be every bit as crafty and ruthless as demons.

  After all, if I managed to survive in the wilderness scrounging for mushrooms with demons and other monsters on the loose, imagine what someone actually competent could do?

  In fact, I came to understand that men could be worse than the demons, for in us was both Heaven and Hell, angel and demon. Humanity could reach the highest heights and the lowest lows; within us was both the best and the worst.

  And the demons never saw it coming.

  So used to fighting the honorable angelic knights of heaven, the demonic hordes were caught unaware by humanity’s surprisingly creative destructive capacity.

  With the demons’ victory at the Empyrean Gate and Heaven’s fall, the entropic hordes must have thought the worst of their battles were over.

  They were wrong.

  Unfortunately, there were more demons than us.

  A discrepancy we tried to rectify at every opportunity.