Legacy of the Blade: The Complete Trilogy

by Joseph J. Bailey

  And this evil was coming through.

  I had to stop it.

  If I could not halt it, then I had to give others a chance to make preparations, to be ready, and save what they could.

  Plunging to the Uërth in an atramentous deluge, heaving unchecked across the barren land, its movements far too quick to follow, a flood of Darkness spilled forth from the colossal churning rift in the sky.

  Just trying to watch this travesty unfold gave me a headache and made me question fundamental assumptions about the nature of my existence.

  Thankfully, since the last time I had been here, I had gained a much better grasp of the world and my place in it, along with certain fundamental assumptions.

  And these interlopers did not belong.

  The holy seal of the Empyrean Gate had broken, its magic crushed along with the Heavenly Host.

  The legions of Chaos were now unloosed upon the Uërth.

  And I was all that waited before the demonic horde’s advance.

  This time, I would make a difference.

  This time, I could make a difference.

  The fear that had filled me, a natural reaction to such a spectacle, fell away.

  I observed the onrushing tide of madness dispassionately.

  A wall of gibbering horrors surged across the plains toward my position—every tone and tenor of nightmare. Each beast was uglier and more abhorrent than the last, visages so vile that not even their mothers, if they had such things, could tolerate their presence—which probably explained much of their mood.

  Urging the advancing demonic hosts on from above, whipping them into an unchecked frenzy, living pools of Darkness, terrible winged horrors whose fearsome roars resounded like whole storm fronts full of ringing thunder, circled feverishly. Alongside the duaga, masses of specters and wraithlike entities, throngs of imps and cacodemons, animated shadows, among many other banes, spilled outward from the great rift, clogging the sky in an overwhelming torrent of extradimensional effluent discharged from the very heart of the Abyss. Scattered amongst the writhing infernal horde, brimming with fell powers far beyond those of even the mighty duaga, greater powers stirred—demonic princes, the vile juel’dathra whose puissance rivaled that of the angels themselves—strode or flew like giants amongst the common rabble, shapers and destroyers of destinies and dreams.

  Deadly magics laced the rampaging tide in unholy arcana, curses despoiled the land and leeched its spirit, and fell rites empowered the vile multitudes with all the timbres and textures of horror.

  The very source of Heaven’s Fall advanced upon the Uërth.

  Toward me.

  But this time I was ready.

  There would be no stuttering.

  As much as it saddened me, Master Nomba was gone. I could not rely on his presence or guidance, only the gifts he had given, the ones that now filled my mind and heart.

  But there were others who could come at need.

  And they could be every bit as fearsome as demons.

  “Lucius!

  “Come!

  “You are needed!

  “Our time is at hand!”

  My voice was no longer quaking.

  My body was no longer quivering.

  I held firm.

  And I did not wet myself.

  Thankfully.

  Adrenaline rushed through my veins, calling me to action, urging me to respond.

  Powerful magics flared to life around me, cloaking my form in celestial energies.

  I knew that I looked as intimidating as I felt.

  Lucius arrived at my side, his steady assurance as welcome as morning’s first breath, an end to nightmares and a presage to dawn’s rallying light.

  With Lucius, flanked alongside us to the limits of vision atop the ridgeline on either side, teeming in an untold multitude, elementals gathered, ready to meet the demonic charge. Stout and sturdy, small and compact, gigantic and ponderous, with all the gravitas of the Uërth itself, the world’s oldest guardians made ready to meet the juel’dara head-on.

  The collision would determine Uërth’s destiny.

  And I knew just how I wanted this outcome to fall.

  “Ware!

  “Make ready!

  “Demons come!”

  My words echoed across the heavens, stilling the roiling clouds above.

  Together, we would make a difference.

  Together, we would help the people of Uërth make ready.

  We would make the demons regret their crimes and their decision to invade our world.

  My words were a clarion call.

  Others would hear.

  Others would prepare.

  Others would live.

  Even if we perished.

  Though my master was gone, we did not stand alone.

  We stood together.

  We were ready.

  And I was filled with hope.

  Wakening

  There were voices in the distance.

  Occasionally I heard my name.

  Mostly I heard echoes from the world within my mind—the erratic cadence and timbre of dreams marching through the darkness of my mind’s eye.

  I felt different.

  Bigger.

  I had reverted to my human form.

  I was soft and squishy.

  The earth beneath me was warm, a basin collecting the heat from my body and returning it to me.

  I was thankful for this consideration.

  I tried opening my eyes, but they refused my commands.

  They were as stubborn as my tongue, for it, too, refused to work.

  I tried to speak, but my lips would not open; my tongue was a dry plank stuck in my mouth.

  I could not sit up.

  I could not move.

  My body refused my commands.

  How long would this continue?

  When would I wake?

  What was sustaining me?

  If I did not waken soon, would I die?

  How long until the darkness closed in and I knew no more?

  My mind spun, but yet, in the cool stillness of my torpor, I remained calm.

  I would arise or I would not.

  While my mind worried on the problems of my eventual resurrection, I appreciated my still closed eyes and went back to sleep.

  There would be time for activity when I could act.

  A nuzzle.

  A push.

  Something was gently pressing against my back.

  Was this another dream?

  Another nudge.

  Had this happened before?

  Still another bump.

  Could I not rest a little longer?

  Another prod, this time more firm.

  I tried to reply, to urge my accoster to leave me be, but he was relentless and my tongue was unresponsive.

  He was as persistent and persevering as the stone.

  Lucius?

  Was this Lucius trying to revive me?

  Was there need for me to reawaken?

  Could I awaken?

  I struggled.

  I goaded.

  I screamed.

  But I could not.

  All the pushes, from the inside and out, were in vain.

  Exhausted, I returned to oblivion.

  Another nudge, this one as gentle as a morning’s fog-laced breeze.

  “Stop…” I croaked, turning over.

  Another push, this time firmer.

  “Nnnn…” I put my arm over my face, blocking out the sun that was not there.

  A firm shove, slow and steady, enough to make me slide slightly across the ground.

  “Will you not leave me alone?”

  My dreams were deep, safe and reassuring. They called me to rejoin them, to bathe in their luxuriant reaches.

  But someone would not let me be.

  I sat up.

  “Will you not let me sleep a while longer?

  “It can’t be morning yet.”

  One more push, this one even soft
er than the first.

  My stomach growled.

  Perhaps he had a point.

  “Okay.

  “Alright.

  “I’m getting up.”

  I tried to open my eyes. The brightness was overwhelming. Tears should have flowed down my cheeks, but my ducts were deserts, unable to meet my needs.

  The light was relentless.

  Just as I could not fully open my eyes, I could not go back to sleep.

  I shaded my face with my hand. My arm shook, far too weak.

  Eventually, after long moments, my eyes finally acclimated.

  In front of me, patient and brimming with self-congratulation, Lucius bobbed happily in the air.

  I was not quite sure what he was so excited about.

  I would have to ask him.

  After breakfast.

  I felt like I had not eaten in days.

  Departure

  Our farewells complete, our scrying finished, committed to our cause, we left the only home I had ever known.

  Apparently, my fears were not as great as I had thought.

  Or my desire for death was greater than I had anticipated.

  Master Nomba, ever my guiding star and an implacable optimist, was sure that my willingness to leave was due to a combination of my innate curiosity and my firm determination to help.

  I was not so certain.

  But I was not about to argue with a wizard who had lived long centuries in study, one who could call down the fires of Heaven itself.

  On me.

  This was, perhaps, another way I sought to preserve my own skin.

  We walked out of the Greensward Valley through her green meadows, beneath her lush trees, past her shimmering waterways, and through the protective shields into the wasteland beyond.

  As much as I would have liked to teleport directly to one of the villages from within the valley, such modes of direct transportation were not possible with the protections Master Nomba had placed over us.

  The air within the Greensward was full and soothing, much like a vibrant, protected terrarium. In contrast, the air outside Master Nomba’s wards was dry and sharp, slowly leaching the moisture from my mouth and filling my eyes with grit.

  I missed home already, and I had only just stepped outside.

  I could feel my heart thumping in my chest, my body full of adrenaline in anticipation of an imminent attack by demons.

  Staying in place and not darting back into the valley took all my will and determination.

  I was, in fact, a bit surprised by my bravery and more than a little proud.

  Warded against demons, made invisible to the supernatural by my teacher’s spellcraft, and carrying all my worldly goods on my back, I looked out sadly toward my future.

  “Come close, Maeraeth, and hold my hand.”

  We stood together on the packed earth, our lives held delicately between us with the verdant valley of the Greensward already worlds away behind us.

  With a quick incantation and a short gesture, Master Nomba gathered his power and we disappeared.

  A Flock of Stone

  A pack of elementals, Lucius’s kin, floated in a small cloud around me, my very own halo of assorted earthbound asteroids.

  My heart lifted and tears welled in my eyes to see my elemental friends looking out for me.

  I was truly fortunate to have their stewardship, else I would be long dead.

  How I had managed to live this long, I did not know.

  As if reading my thoughts, or the features on my face, Lucius said, “Our magic has sustained you, Noema’lun.”

  Noema’lun?

  Stone dreamer?

  A new name?

  “How long have I been asleep?” I asked.

  “We do not count time as you,” Lucius replied. “A few days. Perhaps a week?”

  A week!

  “What of your elemental brothers and the attack on their home at Noema’jin by the demons? You should not have waited on my account!”

  “Many of us have already gone,” Lucius answered.

  “But why did you stay?”

  The lives of Lucius’s people were too important for him to tarry on my behalf.

  I sensed the equivalent of a smile as Lucius added in reply, “I convinced them you were worth the wait.”

  I would do my best not to disappoint.

  On a Prominence

  We stood on a rocky promontory looking out upon the small citadel perched atop the dizzying, wind-swept gap separating us.

  What might have once been a road or trail wound its way slowly around the mountain behind us.

  Shattered stone, melted rock, and broken weaponry all were strewn haphazardly about the bleak landscape.

  The scene, once perhaps the site of frenetic battles and much loss of life, was now calm, slowly settling into the countryside until all vestiges of what had happened were lost to time.

  There was no response to our arrival from within.

  Nor did we expect one.

  Thankfully, at least for the moment, there was also no sign of demonic activity.

  Before my feet had settled firmly upon the ground, Master Nomba was already at work casting a minor version of the greater shielding he would soon cast upon the village. This shield would be our temporary shelter in the days and weeks ahead while we worked, extending the magic he wove outward to protect the hamlet from extradimensional incursion.

  While the shielding would not hold us out, or our mortal kin, it would prevent entry by demons and their fell magics.

  So long as people lived within the fastness, the self-reinforcing magics of Master Nomba’s shield would stay in place.

  After protecting us, but before commencing his enchantment, Master Nomba gave fair warning of his intent to the village.

  To avoid hostilities and misunderstandings, letting others know the purpose of one’s magic before casting was not only expected, it was the right thing to do.

  And Master Nomba always tried to do right.

  His voice magically augmented and made understandable to any, Master Nomba called out, “Village of the Sky, I am Master Nomba of the Magisterium Arcanum. With your blessing, I will permanently shield your village from extradimensional incursion and attack.

  “I ask nothing in return for this boon, nor do I wish it.

  “If I do not hear a response from you within the hour, I will consider your silence an acceptance of my intention to offer protection and will begin.

  “If you have any questions, concerns, or objections, I am here to help you and to answer them.”

  There were none.

  Observing Master Nomba’s work was like watching someone fish.

  No, that was not entirely fair.

  Watching Master Nomba was not like watching someone fish. It was like watching the One fish.

  With a beautiful economy of motion and a singular focus, Master Nomba moved through his ritual with all the grace of the stars above gliding through their cosmic orbits.

  His motions were just as significant.

  He cast line after line outward, his throws largely invisible, as he slowly built a wall of denial around us and more and more of the village.

  On the most basic level, Master Nomba’s ward took the energies of Darkness and redirected them back from whence they came so that it was impossible for demonic entities or their fell enchantments to pass through.

  I likened the spell’s application to walking down a road, reaching a certain point, and then finding yourself facing the direction from which you had come after taking your next step when trying to cross a certain point.

  This was how his magic worked.

  Attempts by demons to counter or negate this magic were redirected back toward the caster or initiator. The shielding would be vulnerable to other magics, but with the denizens of Uërth so few and scattered, not available to be bought or coerced, the overwhelming demonic strength, having wiped most adversaries off the face of the planet or forcing them into h
iding or retreat, in this case was a weakness.

  And for this we were thankful.

  After almost a week of uninterrupted work, we caught our first glimpse of a villager watching us from the walls.

  He was a middle-aged man in dark, flowing deep blue robes. His face was chiseled and worn by the wind and sun, resembling the stone itself from whence his village had sprung. He was, if I had to guess, an Elemantus Magisterium, for he looked to be as much rock as man.

  I raised my hand, gave a warm smile, and waved.

  Surprisingly, he returned the gesture.

  If ever there had been any question asked about the villagers’ humanity, it was now answered.

  Or, more precisely, whether or not they retained the core of their humanity.

  Master Nomba’s efforts would see to it that their essences remained intact in the years to come.

  My efforts, in contrast, were largely kept to myself, because I did not wish to undermine those of my teacher.

  As the days passed and Master Nomba’s wards grew, more villagers came out to see the wizard at work.

  I like to think that a wave of relief passed over them as Master Nomba’s shield gradually covered the village.

  Though I know this was not the case, the villagers did seem to be appreciative of his efforts on their behalf.

  After the second week, when Master Nomba’s wards completely encased the promontory and the village itself, warding it entirely from demonic influence, one of the villagers was brave enough to talk.

  The one who spoke was a wizened old man, perhaps grown tired of the tableau, his voice shrill and quavering and buffeted by the wind gusting across the distance between us. “Ya just about finished? I’m growin’ tired o’ herdin’ these young ’uns back inside every day so we can get some work done!”

  I could not help but laugh.

  Greater words of thanks could not be spoken.

  Unperturbed, Master Nomba kept working.

  I kept my voice warm and respectful, for the man’s work and his people were obviously of great import to him, though he showed his care less than hospitably. “Master Nomba has but a few days more to finish stabilizing his wards, and then the spells protecting your village from demonic incursion will be complete.”