Legacy of the Blade: The Complete Trilogy

by Joseph J. Bailey

  The new clothing, much like the Sigil Shield protecting me, was so comfortable, I did not even notice I had it on—which was something of an advantage because then I would never feel the need to take it off.

  Not that anyone would want me to take anything off.

  Some things were worse than demons.

  Or the absence of cookies.

  I never managed to catch up with the Scarlet Company.

  Either they had teleported ahead, could run faster than a horse at full gallop, had flown, or had taken another direction toward the Doeren Muer, assuming that was their ultimate destination.

  Of course, all of those things were actually possible, but seeing people run through the air faster than a horse sprinting at full tilt while teleporting was a rarity even in a world as warped as Uërth.

  I did, however, eagerly anticipate a chance observance.

  Sadly, such a fortuitous encounter did not happen on my trip to Heaven’s Edge.

  On a positive note, I did manage to make the mountain range alive, which was quite a bit more than I had originally anticipated.

  Sometimes you get lucky.

  Doeren Muer rose from the Infernal Wastes like a vast behemoth breaching the surface of an otherwise flat, untroubled sea. There were the wakes and eddies of the beast’s emergence in the rolling hills that flanked the great peaks, tumbling slopes that slowly dissipated into the vast, still waters of the plains themselves. The surging leviathan that was the Heaven’s Edge Range erupted upward from these eddies unconstrained by the bounds of the plain, pushing back the waters below in an unwavering leap for the sky, leaving behind the unknown depths that gave the mountains their birth. Mere rivulets running down the beasts’ vast flanks, the forests and waterways of the peaks ran down to the hillsides, slowing dispersing amongst the leading edges of the hills.

  By the time I reached the hills leading to the base of the mountains, I was ready for a change of scenery. Days upon days of crossing dry, dusty wasteland inhabited by soul-devouring demons put a damper on even my optimistic spirit.

  Not that I minded killing demons… It was the being killed, the almost being killed, the suffering, the torturing, the loss of friends and possessions—and threats of same—that really got to me.

  I looked to the idyllic green peaks ahead as something of a reprieve.

  Magical energies played across the peaks and valleys in vibrant swathes of luxuriant vitality. I imagined faeries, sprites, and other fey creatures of the wood cavorting to sublime music, idling away the days in sumptuous, natural bliss, or engaged in relaxed contemplation of the measureless wonders enlivening their world.

  Much as I had once been in a past almost too distant to recall, when I had harvested magical mushrooms in similar unspoiled environs.

  Of course, with my luck, all the nasties native to Uërth that had been pushed out by the waves of demonic advance of the past centuries were concentrated within these peaks and vales. They were probably, even now, regarding my approach hungrily with plates laid out, tables set, and knives and forks in hand.

  With many guests invited and in attendance.

  I would be a welcome morsel to add a bit of variety to their demon-parched pallets.

  I was closer to the mark than I feared.

  But, as was almost always the case, I was also far more wrong than right.

  I felt the transition as soon as the first green plants began to appear from the sere earth.

  One moment I was walking through a denuded landscape, one sucked so dry of vitality that only the hardiest flora and fauna could persist, and even those sought more suitable climes, for suffering for its own sake was still suffering.

  And if there’s one thing I have learned living a life of laziness, it is far easier to survive under conditions that are easy than when they are harsh.

  Given the choice, most will choose a life of ease.

  Although I could not sense an upwelling of prosperity, leisure, or comfort, I could feel that the land’s potential, its inherent magical strength and resiliency, had increased. With this change, there was more possibility for survival.

  Or, in my case, indolence.

  Walking up those first green hills, I felt renewed and refreshed, bathed in cleanliness, only now realizing how soiled I was and had been, as this place washed all that was unclean from me.

  I was shocked by how much a few paces into such a different place could make me feel, how my thoughts and outlook could brighten.

  Maybe I should sit down and begin composing my own songs to share in idyllic repose with the fey I was bound to find over the next rise.

  “Halt, mortal!”

  I looked around but could see no one.

  I could not sense anyone either.

  There were living creatures nearby—I could feel their energetic patterns both near and from afar—but of the speaker I sensed nothing.

  I halted.

  The last thing I wanted to do was anger someone who so clearly had the advantage over me, especially one who pointed out my mortality.

  I did not need reminding of my frailties.

  There was also the strong juxtaposition implied by being called a mortal when the speaker’s reference obviously implied their own immortality.

  I did not want to offend immortals.

  Unless of course they were demons.

  There were no demons here, however.

  I hoped.

  “Why do you wish to enter the realm of Leyalia D’anuer?”

  So many answers, so little time.

  Because I wanted a reprieve.

  Because I hoped for renewal but would gladly take a respite.

  Because the opportunity to see wonders when so many of my days had been filled with horrors might give me the will to go on.

  “Because it is the most direct path to my goal.”

  “Your words have been heard and your thoughts judged.”

  By the black Abyss!

  They were in my head…like Alric’s evil twin!

  Or were they his good twin?

  Either way, they were in my head!

  I exhaled fully, resigned to the judgment of my unseen observers and my own folly.

  “Be calm and at ease, Saedeus. You are among friends,” said the other thought reader, the one who had taken up semi-permanent residence in my mind.

  Why couldn’t people respect the frail, limited borders of my meager, overwrought mind and give me what little peace I could find within my head?

  Alric answered for me. “Because your mind will never be at ease until it finds calm within.”

  “And barging in helps?”

  “No. Barging in assures the sidhe that you are not a demon and can be trusted to enter their hallowed lands.”

  Oh.

  Foot.

  Meet mouth.

  Or mind.

  Alric had a point or three there.

  I simmered down with alacrity.

  And found my inner peace.

  Its discovery was not even against my better judgment.

  I waited almost patiently.

  “Empyrean Knight, you have been judged worthy and may cross the lands of the Alaurana Leyalia.”

  Now, that was a relief.

  I certainly did not want to trek all the way around.

  Before I could offer a clever reply, darkness clouded my vision and I could see no more.

  The Peaks and Valleys Within

  Stifling an exclamation, I maintained some semblance of calm.

  If the sidhe wanted to attack me, they could have well before I had been alerted to their presence.

  I had to hand it to them.

  The sidhe knew what they were doing.

  They knew how to counter an Empyrean Knight with ease.

  At least one as relatively inexperienced as I.

  The spell they cast on me did not touch my Sigil Shield or it would not have worked. Instead, its forces surrounded me outside the range of the armor’s magical protections inf
luencing the region beyond.

  Even with my inner vision, the spell’s radiance itself interfered with my ability to see with my mind’s eye.

  With some adjustment, like getting used to darkness after being in a brightly lit room, I could begin to get some sense of my surroundings.

  Although not perfect, I would take limited senses over none at all.

  The sidhe, however, did not need to know this.

  “We will guide you from here.

  “Follow us.”

  “Do I get a say in where I go?”

  There was a pause. “You always have a say in your heart’s desire. How you get to the end you desire, however, may not be by the means you wish.

  “You are welcome to stay here and choose your own path around Leyalia D’anuer. If you wish to cross, you will come with us and then choose your own path after you have left us.”

  Some options were better than none.

  “I will go with you.”

  Following supernatural entities across unfamiliar terrain while blinded was a breeze. I did it every day back home.

  That was one of my many diversions.

  Cross my heart and hope to eat pie.

  With some trepidation, perhaps not fully trusting my armor to protect me when I felt so disconnected and out of sorts, I began walking forward.

  No one ever laid a hand on me, but I felt a subtle direction whenever my steps strayed from the desired path.

  Only a few minutes had passed before I was no longer walking.

  Held within a cushion of air, I was flying over the steepening landscape.

  Perhaps not being able to see was not so bad after all.

  This way, I had no idea how far I would fall if the sidhe’s spell failed.

  Impact with the earth would come as a surprise…

  One that was a bit sudden and violent but a surprise nonetheless.

  And who did not like surprises?

  By a show of hands, I counted myself as the only one.

  Not caring if the sidhe could hear me, I asked Alric, “Is this how you were ushered through Doeren Muer when you visited Fornost?”

  Alric chuckled. “No. The fey trusted me.

  “I walked freely on their trails.”

  Great.

  I was being herded like an unruly sheep.

  A flying one at that.

  Out of respect for their wishes, I resisted the temptation to draw Loer’allon and cast aside their enchantment, to draw its energies into myself, or test my meager magical talents with a counterspell.

  But restraining myself was hard.

  I was stubborn, independent, and had only recently been unwillingly bound in demonic servitude, struggling to recover my self and my dignity. I bristled at the confines prescribed by my guides within moments.

  Especially since I found it difficult to enjoy missing what I imagined was quite a view.

  I tried to distract myself with conversation before I did something rash. Finding points of discussion could be tough when you shared the mind of the other party you wanted to speak with and had lived his life through his eyes. “Do you want to visit Fornost while we are in Doeren Muer?”

  “Only if you still wish to return Loer’allon.

  “She would be more likely to choose one of my clan than one of the Empyrean Knights at Kerraboer.”

  “And you’re just now telling me this?”

  “Saedeus, I never thought you would return Loer’allon to the Empyrean Knights.”

  “You doubted me?”

  “No, Saedeus, I believed in you.”

  I snorted.

  “I believed you would rise to Uërth’s need if called. I believed you would become more than you were, that you would become what you needed to be. I believed that you would be willing to take Loer’allon and create a destiny worthy of her name.”

  Alric’s compliments would win every argument.

  “I suppose we don’t need to visit Fornost.”

  Alric did not reply.

  I tried not to read any emotions I might project into that silence…emotions like smugness, self-congratulation, triumph, haughtiness, and superiority.

  My mind provided a market list of negative emotions, unseemly interpretations, and ill-advised conclusions.

  Thankfully, I chose not to listen.

  I had gotten very good at ignoring the voices in my head.

  In response to his silence, I added, “But I would like to visit one day.”

  “As would I, Saedeus, as would I.”

  Il’alen

  “We have arrived at Il’alen, Saedeus, Knight of Silvaeron.”

  With those words, my feet touched down and the mantle of darkness occluding my vision vanished into quickly forgotten memory for Il’alen stole my thoughts and replaced them with wonder.

  Never having visited Heaven, I decided Il’alen was as close as I might ever come.

  My feet resting on the solid ground were the only things that anchored me to the Uërth as my mind soared.

  Il’alen rested lightly on the peaks like sunlight reflecting off untrammeled glaciers—pure, clean, and incomprehensible.

  Only when I looked upon the works of the sidhe did I realize the limitations of my own conceptions of Heaven and Uërth. I was lost in absorption as the dizzying heights of divine providence beckoned—made real, tangible, and all the more lofty. Gazing in wonder upon the creations of the sidhe, I realized the marvels that were truly possible to create on Uërth.

  Sadly, I also realized how much had been lost.

  Il’alen blazed like a dream of Light filled with ineffable beauty that the mortal mind could not completely grasp, conceive, or appreciate, one that I yearned to remember and struggled to do justice for, for I could not fully encompass its conception or reality.

  The sidhe themselves were a reflection of their city and the Light from which it sprang—partially in phase with normal reality, at least as viewed by most, and a part of something greater, something sublime generally hidden but that they brought to the fore. If men represented beings or a state somewhere between angel and demon, then the sidhe manifested existence or entities somewhere between man and angel or between angel and something else entirely, some other order or magnitude of actuality.

  I could see their glory without the benefit of my inner vision, for it shone so brightly, so clearly, and if I could see, I could only imagine what wonders others saw mirrored in the secret hearts of their mind and eye.

  As I beheld Il’alen, my world suddenly got so much bigger.

  And with this expansion, my sense of purpose grew as well.

  There was yet beauty and intention beyond the minds and hearts of men who strove against the infernal advance.

  There were valiant bastions that actively resisted the foul effluence spilling forth from the Chaos Gate.

  Their cause was my own just as their intent was reflected within my own, reinforcing my views, expanding my sense of possibility, and energizing my mission.

  The city of the sidhe floated lightly among the branches and boles covering the heights and valleys of Leyalia D’anuer without impinging upon the mountains or trees—sunbeams arching through quavering dust motes suspended in a dusky wood. A city of light, Il’alen was as much of the heavens as of the earth, a dream that somehow persisted in the light of day.

  “Welcome to our home, Saedeus Mushroomsong.”

  Mushroomsong indeed.

  At least the sidhe recognized the value of a true artisan, a master of his craft with unparalleled facility in his chosen art.

  Few were as discerning.

  Or tasteful.

  Myself excluded.

  The sidhe who escorted me into to Il’alen, my companions in flight up through the mountains, regarded me with luminous, knowing smiles.

  I shrugged nonchalantly.

  Without a tinge of embarrassment.

  What else could I do when divinity peered with playful curiosity into the dusty, disordered mess that was my min
d?

  Their smiles deepened.

  Watching sidhe smile is a bit like observing the unfolding of a full solar eclipse. The event is rare, magical, and entirely unforgettable.

  It is also wise to avert your eyes lest they get burned.

  Their smiles eclipsed the sun above.

  What else can I say about the sidhe?

  Removing the mantle obscuring my vision did little to clarify their reality. If anything, they only grew greater and more mysterious with the unveiling like a tale of love, loss, and discovery retold and passed on through the generations.

  In form, they appeared akin to the reflections of men glanced on the scintillating surface of a placid ocean mirroring the newly risen sun. The essence of who and what they were was difficult to discern through their eldritch luminosity.

  More lithe and graceful in form than mortals, the sidhe glided effortlessly on the land and through the air as if floating in water though their motions were actually much quicker, more refined, and more controlled than mine. Their otherworldly shapes were haloed in blazing armor that wavered and flickered like white flames cavorting about a celestial tempest.

  Theirs were the forms to bring tears of joy to the hearts of men, to melt self-imposed restrictions and open the mind to opportunity anew.

  They were perfect.

  And therefore flawed.

  For, like the demons we fought, they were too much for a world already overwrought by tragedy and wonder.

  I felt the need to shield my gaze to look upon them directly.

  The sidhe’s warmth and wisdom penetrated even my notoriously thick skull, filling me with a sense of serenity and renewal, of vibrancy and possibility.

  A part of this world and another, I could also see right through them.

  Literally.

  I would have thought this odd, but I found staring through semidivine beings a little less unnerving than trying to keep their multifaceted glory in full focus.

  To each his own.

  Perhaps the sidhe would be the ones to repopulate Heaven after the demons’ fall.

  Mayhap they would restore Heaven to Its full glory.

  “So where can a mushroom singer get something to eat?”

  I did not bother to speak aloud.