Reflections in the Void: Book Two of the Demon's Blade Saga

by Steven Drake

  Darien had learned just what Jerris could take, kept his attacks within a hair’s breadth of being deadly, pushed his apprentice through exhaustion and given him more than a few bruises. Many days began with surprise attacks, relentlessly delivered until Jerris could react quickly enough to defend himself. Darien had shown no sympathy, no compassion, no emotion at all. Real enemies did not care. Real enemies did not hesitate, and Jerris needed to be prepared to fight real enemies, Shades as strong as the Executioner if necessary. Darien knew well enough that a day would come when he could no longer protect his student. He would do all that he could to prepare Jerris for that day.

  Surprisingly, almost disturbingly, Jerris had never offered a word of complaint. The young half-elf did not waver, despite the difficulties. Jerris seemed all too aware of his own weakness, and was determined to end that weakness. Jerris embraced the grueling ordeal, setting himself to face every challenge Darien put in front of him.

  That determination served the young elf prince well, and by most measures, the young prince had become quite formidable. Jerris could easily overcome most common soldiers, and give even skilled knights a worthy battle. Of course, real battle was the only test, one Darien hoped his student would not face for many years. Darien did not know what foes his student would face in the future. It was quite possible that the young man would never leave Kadanar, kept safe by guards and soldiers, like most royals, but Darien would prepare him to face anything all the same

  Jerris’ next attack was a pair of fireballs, one slightly to the right and the other to his left, positioned so as to prevent his moving in either direction. Darien had taught the young half-elf this tactic, and anticipated another attack from straight ahead. Surely enough, Jerris ran straight for him, and prepared his next spell, a favorite. For someone without magic of their own, this spell was difficult to evade, and devastatingly effective. For Darien, it was simplicity itself. Darien saw Jerris form the spell before he used it, and began to change his position to compensate. A white-hot beam of pure light fired from Jerris outstretched arm, but by leaning a little to the left, the Shade avoided it, pivoted into a spin, lunged forward, and brought his leather gauntlet across the side of Jerris’ head. The young half-elf tumbled over, cursed furiously, but quickly regained his feet, nodded silently, and paced a dozen yards away, to begin again.

  Jerris began as he had earlier, launching a star sphere. Thet light ball came hurtling forward, and just as before, Darien raised his hand, and the shadow void consumed the ball of light. This one was slightly stronger than the one before, and both the rush of wind and the thunderous clap were louder. It wouldn’t be long before this training would become difficult. Jerris wasn’t even using the King’s Staff to magnify his attacks anymore. That had already become too strenuous months ago. With the Staff of Kings, and its magical amplification factor, Jerris could easily push the limits of even Darien the Executioner.

  Darien was about to respond with his own attack when he heard soft footfalls behind him, gently treading on the forest floor. He raised his hand high to signal a pause to the training.

  “Impressive. Both of you.” A voice called from behind Darien, the voice of Galen, the Lorekeeper of Kadanar, nearest thing to a lord that there was in Kadanar.

  “Jerris, let’s take a break for now,” Darien called, and the boy nodded, but, as usual, didn’t actually take a break at all, but instead turned to practicing some other magic that didn’t require his teacher’s supervision or participation.

  Darien turned to speak with Galen. The Lorekeeper kept a close watch over Jerris’ training, intruding far more often than either teacher or student would have liked. Galen would certainly not approve of the more intense elements of training, so the Lorekeeper’s arrival was usually cause for a break.

  It was only over Galen’s strong objection that Darien had begun teaching the use of domination magic to influence the minds of man and beast, something which was apparently frowned upon by the traditional elves. Darien had little regard for tradition or custom, however, and the enemies of the elves would have even less, so he had finally convinced Galen to relent by explaining that the boy could only learn to resist the magic if he fully understood it himself.

  That training had proved difficult, as Darien’s own training in the Order of the Shade had been excruciatingly painful, like knives being twisted over and over in his mind, an experience he had no desire to pass on to his student. Still, after several weeks of practice, he had managed to teach Jerris how to engage his mind with an opponent, and resist an enemy’s attacks. Jerris advanced quickly after that, and now he could easily put animals to sleep, and even charm small creatures. He was especially fond of butterflies and moths, and there were often several of the colorful creatures following him.

  Galen smiled brightly and walked with a light step, seemingly in quite a pleasant mood on that particular morning, though in fact it was much like any other. The valley was pleasantly warm as it always was, the weather being perpetually locked in what felt like the middle of spring. Warm green light filtered down through the dense canopy, speckled with a few beams of sunlight that somehow managed to navigate the thick tangle of leaves, vines, and branches to the valley floor where they danced upon the ground like flitting insects. The old elf strode towards them, and his long silver hair drifted over his shoulders and down his back. He wore his usual sky blue robes trimmed with silver, tied at the waste with a silver cord.

  As the old elf drew near, Darien nodded respectfully. “He’s going to be extremely powerful, maybe stronger than me. With the staff, few opponents will be able to match him.”

  “So you’ve said, and I still do not agree. You have a great deal of untapped potential yet. By the standards of our people, you are scarcely more than a lad yourself, and you have much to learn yet. Have you practiced using the light anymore?” Galen spoke with a slightly scolding tone, which mildly irked the former Shade, who glowered at the old elf.

  “As I told you, I practice as I am able. My first priority has been to recover my former abilities, and I have, but I spend far more time training Jerris than I am able to spend on myself. Perhaps you’d like to try convincing him that you should be his teacher.” The irritated teacher gave his pupil a sidelong glance and smiled. “Last time didn’t he set your shoes on fire? He’s too strong for you to be able to stop anything he does, and he knows it. He’s young and headstrong and stubborn as an ox. It’s difficult to train someone you can’t really control.” Galen arched his eyebrows and leaned slightly forward, pushing for an answer. Darien sighed deeply and shook his head in resignation. “I have made some progress, yes, but I have no affinity for light magic. I honestly don’t understand why it matters. My shadow voids are derived from the same pure magic as other spells. What’s the difference how I use it?”

  “Because light is life. It is everything that is good, and pure, and worthwhile about life. Your shadow magic is incredibly powerful, but it is only an inversion of life. The shadow cannot grow, cannot evolve. It can only consume and destroy. Its power can never exceed the light that it consumed. That magic you wield is only a shadow of your true power.”

  “I will not have this same philosophical debate with you again, Galen,” Darien groaned. “I respect your wisdom, and I am grateful for what you have been able to teach me, but what was done to me cannot be undone, no matter how much you wish it was so. You cannot save me. Even your prophecy says as much.” The dour mage spoke, of course, of the prophecy that predicted the defeat of his old master, the Demon King, and the restoration of the elf kingdom, a prophecy that also predicted his death.

  The elf lowered his head, and shook it sadly. Darien did regret having to say such things to the old lorekeeper, who considered himself Darien’s grandfather. The ancient elf had raised Darien’s mother in the shelter of the valley, yet had been unable to dissuade her from leaving, or prevent her death. His guilt over what happened to my mother clouds his judgment, and he refuses to see it, Darie
n reflected, and turned back towards Jerris, who now had a small tornado as tall as himself spinning around and throwing fallen leaves, sticks, and tiny insects about the valley floor.

  “I wish there were something I could say that could make you believe in yourself, but if you cannot see the light, you can never master it.” Galen shook his head disapprovingly, and the executioner clenched his teeth. He had grown more than a little weary of these lectures. He could endure many things, but being treated like a wayward child by the scolding Lorekeeper was proving one of his greatest frustrations. “Well, I have something that may help.” Galen produced from his white robes an object which, at first glance appeared to be a sword hilt that lacked a blade.

  “And what is that, exactly, an invisible sword that kills invisible enemies?” Darien chuckled dryly at his own wit.

  Galen sighed. “Always so quick to dismiss the power of things you cannot see. It is a wonder you learned magic at all. This is an Aetherblade. A moonstone is placed where the blade ought to emerge. You can channel your elemental energy into it and it will focus that energy into a blade. It’s far easier than shaping the magic yourself. It may be helpful to you, since you can use any element without having a strong affinity for it.” Darien took the blade, and focused freezing ice into the stone, and a blue white blade made of ice formed upon the sword hilt. He withdrew his focus, and the blade crumbled into shards of ice that fell to the forest floor and dissipated. He then channeled light as best he could, and a blade of white light formed. The blade held with only a minimum of concentration, making it extremely useful in battle.

  “Where did this come from?” he asked the lorekeeper.

  I made this one myself, actually. Once these were carried by all elven knights, but most were lost, or taken by the Demon King when he began seeking moonstones throughout the known world. There are a few stored in our treasury, but it is not within my authority to give you one of those. I made this copy for your mother, many years ago, but she never had much interest in combat magic. Her special gift was healing magic, a rare gift in this age.

  Something sparked in Darien’s mind, not a memory exactly, but more of an impression, a vague familiarity. “I have very few memories of my early life…, but it does sound familiar.” He disengaged the glowing blade of light, and stowed the sword hilt in one of the several pockets in his dark leather armor. “Well, thank you. I’m sure this will prove useful.” He then turned back toward Jerris, watching him continue to practice his magic spells. Galen watched with him. Jerris had abandoned the tornado, and now conjured a blazing fire at his feet.

  “You care for the lad deeply, and that is something at least, but is there nothing besides our young prince that you care about?” Galen asked pointedly, as if reading the former Shade’s mind. “You might begin to build some kind of life here, but instead you skulk about at night like a thief, or hide in your room with your books. You never attend any of the festivals. You dine alone. You scarcely speak to anyone save Jerris and that human woman.”

  “Her name is Rana, and she has been quite helpful in my training. She’s been trained to fight against the techniques I use, and she’s very talented.”

  “I’m sure she is quite talented, by the standards of her kind, but I’m sure there are other able sparring partners, Ceres for example. It is wise not to become too accustomed to a single opponent’s style.”

  “Rana is an outsider here. We have that in common. Perhaps that’s why I prefer her company. I cannot simply pretend that I belong here, and live as if I were no different than anyone else.”

  “You do belong here!” Galen protested forcefully. “Your mother was one of us, and so you are one of us. We are your people. Here, you will be accepted, as nowhere else.”

  “Will I?” Darien countered. “You see the way they look at me, the way they look at the sword.” He nodded over his shoulder at the clear crystalline pommel and the silver hilt of the Demon Sword which was, as always, sheathed and slung upon his back. “That power is enough to kill every last person in this valley. They’re afraid, and they’re right to be afraid. I’m a danger to everyone around me, and they know it. You seem to be the only one who doesn’t realize it. When it comes to me, you see what you wish to see.”

  “Perhaps I do.” Galen sighed and ran his fingers through his silver hair, suddenly looking very old and worn, yet in a moment, it had passed, and his perfect elven features returned. “I see your mother every time I look at you, and I know it is her spirit that saved you from becoming truly evil. Just her memory was enough. It had to be, or you would not be here. Perhaps it is her spirit that I still have faith in. That, at least, I think we can agree on.”

  The executioner did not speak. The lorekeeper had once again found the exact words to leave him speechless. There was nothing in the world he clung to more strongly than his mother’s memory, and he had to concede that perhaps it was true that she sustained him, even from beyond the doors of death. Her execution at the hands of the man he now knew as an agent of the Order of the Shade had changed his life, or more accurately, destroyed it. When the powerful elf sorceress had refused to join the Order of the Shade herself, two mages from the Order had orchestrated her execution, making it appear that she had been executed for a petty crime, and then come to the grieving child, who, without anywhere else to go, had joined them.

  That seemed two lifetimes ago now. The dozen years he’d spent in the Order of the Shade had turned a frightened child into something else, a hardened fighter who had killed hundreds in battle, a cold calculating strategist who saw nothing but the path to victory, no matter how brutal or bloody. That life, too, now lay far behind. Over six years had passed since he had betrayed the Demon King, six years since he had stolen the Demon Sword, and escaped. Yet another life had begun since then, for about a year and a half ago he had met a young half-elf named Jerris in the northern town of Kantu, and decided to save the boy’s life, a choice that led him unexpectedly into a flight from the assassin, Avirosa the Wraith, and ultimately brought him to Kadanar.

  “What are you two arguing about this time?” Jerris inquired as he walked over. “Is Galen trying to take over my training again?”

  “No Jerris, but you could learn a lot from him. He may not be as gifted as I am, but he is far more experienced.”

  “How can I fully understand my power if I can’t test my limits? I would have to hold back just to avoid killing him.”

  “Raw power isn’t everything, Jerris,” Darien scolded. “You must also learn subtlety and control. Magic is more than simply throwing fireballs. You must learn that it’s usually the cleverer mage, not the stronger, that triumphs. A good mage never uses more power than needed.”

  “So I’ll be strong and clever, then,” Jerris merrily countered.

  “It’s all right Darien,” Galen interrupted. “I’ve seen the young prince’s powers grow tremendously under your guidance, and he is right. There is no one more qualified than you to teach him. You can help him understand the depths of his strength as I cannot.”

  “So how close am I to matching your shadow voids with my star spheres?” Jerris asked eagerly.

  “Not as close as you think, and that isn’t what’s most important. With the King’s Staff and its magical amplification, you might be able to approach my level of strength, but you must first learn to control your energy more precisely, or you risk injuring yourself by creating a spell too strong for you to control. You still waste too much magic trying to make each individual attack too powerful. As I continually remind you, that will tire you quickly in a real fight. Focus on reducing the deviation in the strength of your star spheres. When each one is exactly the same, every time, day after day, then you will be ready for the next step.”

  “Alright. So can we get back to that then, or did Galen need me for something?”

  The Lorekeeper bowed respectfully to the prince, a gesture that neither Darien nor Jerris himself actually liked. “Actually, yes. I came because I have so
mething to show you. It is the reason we elves have kept this valley secret for so long. I would have shown you sooner, but the decision is not solely mine to make, and several other of the elders took some convincing before they agreed that you should be shown this.”

  “Is this something I need to see, or do you only need Jerris?” Darien inquired, sensing an opportunity to avoid further lecturing from the Lorekeeper.

  “The council has decided that both of you be allowed to see this. To be honest, since you have the young prince’s confidence so completely, the council has been operating under the assumption that Jerris would only tell you what he saw anyway. That’s why we debated the decision so long.”

  “So they don’t trust me, and it took you this long to convince them,” Darien sighed. “Do you see what I mean Galen?”

  “Perhaps they would trust you more if you made more of an effort to earn that trust, instead of lurking in the shadows like a ghost,” Galen retorted.

  “You know he’s right, Darien,” Jerris added. “I hear them talk at those banquets and festivals you never go to. They’re afraid of you, just like I was at first. They don’t know you like I do, and you haven’t given them much of a chance. Half the time you have this look on your face like you want to kill something, and the rest of the time you look like you’re about to fall asleep. Not the best approach for making friends.”

  Darien ignored them both. He had heard this before, and given up trying to explain. Darien usually found peace only in solitude. If he spent time with anyone, it was because he found them interesting, useful, or wise, but almost never for the usual comforts people seemed to find in the company of others. Jerris was the lone exception, the one person whose company he genuinely enjoyed.