Legacy of the Blade: The Complete Trilogy

by Joseph J. Bailey

  “Will you accept our aid in the days ahead?

  “Our foes are legion, and we would lay waste to them.

  “We would burn them to ash and scatter their dust to burn anew in the fires of Heaven.

  “We would wipe their memory and their foul corruption from the face of the Uërth.

  “Will you join with us and allow us to join with you?”

  I was speechless.

  Never before had I felt a presence so expansive, so powerful, or so deeply soothing.

  The dragon’s very voice was magic.

  As was its essence.

  How could I turn down the offer of an alliance with dragons?

  The answer was simple.

  I could not, but the decision was not mine to make

  A voice just as strong as the dragon’s boomed out within my mind. This voice was the sound of the space between rockfalls, the stillness of empty valleys, the grinding and churning of continents, and the immeasurable weight of time. “Brother spirit of the land, of might and fire, we would welcome your help, your wisdom, and your strength in the days to come.

  “Come with us as friends, join with us as brothers, and fight with us as unity.

  “We welcome you just as you welcome us.”

  And with those words, a flight of dragons joined our small elemental pack.

  I had never before witnessed a negotiation so simple, so clear, so awe-inspiring.

  I really needed to get out more.

  Only now was I truly beginning to understand all that I had been missing, holding on to life to survive. While protected from many of life’s dangers, I had failed to live.

  Now that I had the chance to live, I risked dying.

  At least now if I fell, I would do so surrounded by dragons.

  Made real, my childhood flights of fancy now soared to the firmament.

  We stopped for the day not because the elementals or the dragons needed a break, but because I could no longer maintain elemental form.

  I was exhausted and needed rest.

  Not only that, I felt like I could eat like a dragon.

  I collapsed on the ground after shifting to human form, my butterflies a lithe, dainty cloud unbowed by my fatigue. The earth was cool and moist beneath my cheek, a rich layer of loam beneath organic matter from the plants above.

  Looking askance from the ground, the trees’ mighty boles skewing skyward sideways, I slowly took in the many layers of life present in this secluded forest. Lights played in the canopy, innumerable small living things both magic and mundane flitted, hummed, and chirped all around. A thick understory of plants covered in magical encrustations and symbiotic creatures brought bright colors to the dark undergrowth, colors that carried skyward to other magical entities existing alongside animals and plants from branch to bough.

  The stillness that had overlaid the forest when we first arrived gradually transitioned to full vibrancy and color as our presence blended in with the larger orchestrations of living things.

  Wavering in the air before me, its dew-laden strands quivering with each of my exhalations, a small, elegantly entwined spiderweb mirrored the movements of my breath.

  Each individual dewdrop reflected the forest all around, a world in miniature contained within. All these worlds were bound together and interconnected by the minute strands of the spider’s web. Struggling at the web’s center, a small iridescent insect fought against the spider’s imminent arrival but could not break free.

  A world bound by threads.

  Could this work for Uërth?

  Could the effectiveness of a spider’s web be our salvation from future demonic invasion?

  Could a mosaic of nexuses, protected regions like the Greensward, channeling living energy across the world in an elaborate lattice, protect Uërth from demonic incursion?

  Would Master Nomba’s dream writ across the planet be its salvation?

  Could we write Master Nomba’s vision across the Uërth?

  “Lucius!”

  I sat up too quickly and fell back over, too lightheaded to focus for a few moments.

  “You must not push yourself so, Noema’lun. Though your spirit is strong, your body is frail.

  “You must give yourself time to recover.”

  After traveling with Lucius so long, the elemental magics and language had become ingrained in me. I could understand his intent and read his meaning as surely as if he had lectured me for hours without need for additional spells.

  “I may have it, Lucius!

  “I may know how to shield the world from demonic invasion.”

  Lucius was all ears.

  In truth, he was all stone, but he did pay attention.

  “We do not need another Empyrean Gate that could be corrupted and fall, one that would, in its downfall, let demons have free rein on Uërth once more.

  “We need a world protected by shields, seals, scattered all across the planet’s surface, one connected by the living magic of the land and its peoples, its spirits and its living creatures.

  “We need Angel Swords linking this world’s magic together in a tapestry that is impenetrable to extradimensional invasion.

  “Heaven can be our aegis, and we can be its power.”

  Lucius bobbed excitedly. His agreement was obvious.

  My words were incomplete descriptions of what was needed, but the idea was there.

  I could begin writing the metamagical equations that would make such an act possible based on Master Nomba’s work, but it was unnecessary. The divine magic inherent in the Angel Swords was beyond anything I could hope to describe with my limited powers of apprehension.

  But they could make this vision a reality.

  If they would cooperate.

  I might not be pure enough to wield an Angel Sword, but I hoped my vision was vaunted enough to inspire them.

  “Rest, earth dreamer. Your vision will be here when you awaken.”

  I nodded.

  Lucius was correct.

  Master Nomba’s vision would be here tomorrow.

  And soon, we would make it a reality.

  Assuming I did not die in the next few days.

  Chiding myself for my weakness as I sank into sleep, I vowed that dying was not part of my plan.

  At least not until Uërth could rest in peace as deeply and fully as I was about to.

  A Return

  We were back in the Greensward. For how long, I did not yet know.

  But I was glad to be home.

  The valley was just as I remembered it—verdant and green, an emerald untouched by the surrounding storm.

  As prospectors, we were looking for more emeralds to unearth and protect.

  I was always surprised to see the valley from afar, its presence made all the more beautiful by the contrast with the barren surroundings. The pastoral homes, open fields, and thick woodlands were memories from another time.

  My feet crunched and rolled across the uneven ground as we walked down the rough slope toward the valley bottom and home. “What shall we do next, Master?”

  We were wending our way across the rocky escarpment leading to the valley bottom, not yet under the protective barrier established by Master Nomba.

  Master Nomba’s bright smile enlivened the bare rock surrounding us. His smile said all too clearly, “You already know the answer, Maeraeth.”

  Before he could say something like, “What are your thoughts?” Or “How would you proceed?” I offered, “I should learn how to effectively shield myself, us, and how you ward townships.

  “Much depends on my being able to help.”

  I understood the theory of Master Nomba’s wards and thought I could duplicate the magic, but my practice had been haphazard at best. I needed to be able to cast these spells at will under pressure. I might not have the opportunity to fumble my way through the incantations when the time came.

  With my propensity for unanticipated magical effects and associated side-effects, the last thing I needed was
to bungle the warding from demons. For all I knew, I might create a demon attractor instead of a repeller.

  Or even something worse, like a demon summoner or a gate to the Abyss.

  I shivered.

  A portal directly to the Abyss with me dangling on the other side like an enticing worm on the end of a hook was all I needed, especially when I was not fishing and had no reliable means to catch anything if I had been.

  “I think I must be more capable before we venture out again.”

  Master Nomba did not disagree.

  His smile was all the answer I needed.

  Observance

  Luecaeus stared down at the recumbent form of his wera’dun. The human’s dyunda branched and swirled, spread out evenly around him in a complex mandala of living energies.

  This frail form, the fluid-filled vessel of a mortal, was a fusion of elements—the breath of life, the possibility of magic, the fiery spark of potential, and the mineral substrate of stability and growth.

  He was proud and filled with joy. This wera’dun was exemplary.

  As had been the one before.

  Saedeus he missed. Maeraeth he cherished.

  Both had grown into themselves in time.

  This wera’dun’s vision could help save the world and remake history.

  He would do everything necessary to make that happen.

  His companion deserved rest, time to recover, and the opportunity to continue his growth.

  Sadly, time was a resource in short supply.

  He would, however, do his utmost to grant as much as possible.

  Even the smallest gift of time could make all the difference.

  And, though small himself, he liked to give big.

  A New Day, A New Resolve

  I woke to the susurration of insects, damp and chilled from sleeping on the bare earth.

  In the clearing, Lucius and the other elementals were resting haphazardly, as natural and unremarkable as if they had held these same positions for millennia.

  Though I knew better, the naturalness of the el’amin only added to the settled feeling of the place.

  Of the dragons, there was no sign, but I sensed their presence above nonetheless. Theirs was the weight of an impending storm, a heaviness to the air hinting at explosive transition.

  While my friends slept, or gave some semblance thereof, I quietly rose, my butterfly shroud anticipating my movements moments before the decision expressed itself in my actions. With a silent cantrip, I summoned forth a hearty breakfast of eggs, fresh-baked bread, and assorted fruit.

  What I got instead was a lump of cold, greasy puréed hash.

  Not one to complain, and too hungry to argue or recast, I dug in.

  My stomach did not share the foibles of my tongue so long as it was full, and I was famished.

  By the time my breakfast was done, the el’amin had all risen like the sun, floating in tiny self-directed orbits about their central axes. I was at the center of a solar system of elemental planets.

  Not wanting to be left out and ready to be on our way, I invoked the elemental transformation spell.

  The world shifted with a brief blur, and I floated up into the air.

  I immediately knew something was wrong.

  I could still see and sense the world around me, but my elemental perceptions were muted, not heightened as they would be in elemental form. Furthermore, I was bouncing along the ground rather than floating above it. Also, there was a string hanging from my bottom.

  I had succeeded in turning myself into a balloon.

  Unconcerned, already having failed at breakfast and transmogrification, I decided to try again later.

  There were worse things to be than a balloon in a forest.

  “Lucius, do you mind taking my string? I will bob along behind you as we move along.”

  Imperturbed, Lucius took my string up from the ground, magically manipulating it with surprising dexterity, and began our steady progress forward up and out of the valley.

  I popped on the branch of the nearest bush.

  “Do you wish us to stop?”

  Embarrassed but accepting my plight, I tried to shake my head, remembered I could not, and gave a short, “No,” in reply.

  “We are not out of the woods yet. I will try again once we are.”

  Some jokes, no matter how bad, are better than the alternative.

  As a popped balloon flopping sadly in the wind generated by our forward momentum, I trailed behind Lucius as we left the forest.

  Any thoughts of ever impressing the dragons that exploded upward from the canopy above with all the majesty of risen stars quickly faded from my mind.

  An interminable period later, when we had finally reached the heights above the treeline, I decided the moment had come to rejoin my fellows and become an elemental.

  This time my incantation had quite a bit more control and verve. I was confident in the result.

  Until I realized I had become a kite.

  At least Lucius was kind enough not to let me go.

  Practice Makes Imperfect

  “Again.”

  Master Nomba was generally forgiving.

  He was usually understanding.

  On most days, he left me to my own practice.

  But today was different.

  I had told Master Nomba that I needed to master his spells of warding against demons, and he was not letting me stop until I got them right.

  We had been here since morning.

  Already the sun was setting, the angle of shadows tilting sharper, speeding across the valley bottom ready to put us in darkness before the sun had fully set.

  I imagined my intent, a multidimensional sphere of cohesive Light, one that reflected Darkness back at its source, surrounding us in a halo of impenetrable force.

  A giant tent exploded into the air around us, fully equipped and completely set up. A tall central post held the center of the tent aloft. From the canvas roof, various lanterns hung suspended in the air.

  I was close, at least.

  I did give us protection.

  And light to stave off impending darkness.

  The expression was not quite what I had intended, but I could tell that my heart was in it.

  I offered a weak smile.

  Before I could offer a weak jest to deflect my most recent failure, something terrible happened.

  Master Nomba’s face fell.

  His disappointment was a blow to my heart.

  I struggled to hold back tears.

  The gesture was slight, almost unnoticeable, and I knew he did not intend for me to see it, which made his sentiment hurt all the more.

  I wanted to bury my face in my hands and run away bawling like a child.

  Master Nomba rested a hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring pat.

  “We will try again tomorrow. The day is late, and you have worked hard, too hard, and are exhausted. Let us retire for the evening.

  “If you do not feel up to another attempt on the morrow, we can cast out for more signs of habitation within the Teeth.

  “I am hopeful that we missed something in our prior attempts.

  “I can feel it.

  “Perhaps there is another hidden village that eludes us.

  “Come, let us go.”

  Unable to speak without my voice breaking, I shook my head.

  I would stay in my tent.

  I would not leave until I had managed to cast Nomba’s Aegis.

  Master Nomba pursed his lips thoughtfully, taking his hand off my shoulder. “I will come for you in the morning.

  “We will discuss our options under the light of a new day.”

  With those words, Master Nomba turned and walked away in the half-light, his sure strides taking him to the reassuring routines of home.

  No longer content with the routine, my unending string of failures, I stayed in my tent.

  I practiced all night, eschewing sleep for the realization of my master’s masterwork.<
br />
  By the time the sun rose once more in the valley, my tent had become a small compound.

  But I still could not cast Master Nomba’s spell.

  “Good day, Maeraeth!”

  Master Nomba called out to me from across the field as he approached where I was working outside my tent.

  Assessing my burgeoning tent complex, he said, “Your work appears to be progressing.”

  “In some ways more than others,” I managed.

  “What would you like to do today?” he asked.

  “What I did all through the night.” My reply was short, but there was no malice in it. Master Nomba knew this and was not affronted. If anything, my answer only reflected my disappointment in myself.

  “And will you do this on the morrow as well?”

  “I will do this until I am done.”

  “Very well.” Master Nomba declined his head slightly and gave me a half-smile. “Until the morrow.”

  He walked away and left me to my frustrations.

  Master Nomba came to check on my progress every day for the next few weeks. He was kind enough to ask everyone to leave me be.

  At month’s end, we left together.

  After I had dismantled my tent city.

  Pride Goeth Before the Tangle

  I was a banner of success, a beacon of hope.

  First incarnated as a popped balloon and later as a tangled kite, I was the herald of unwitting calamity.

  Whipping through the air behind Lucius, my tail feverishly spinning, my string knotted, with gaping holes in my taut fabric, I was the very picture of the extraneously extrinsic.

  My frolicking pack of butterflies did not make the situation any better.

  They appeared to relish my feverish darts and whips, riding the currents of my wake with wild abandon, their motions mapping the turbulence caused by my erratic whips, darts, and tumbles.

  I tried not to imagine what a red kite flitting behind a motley band of elementals, one denied the airy heights ruled by the dragons soaring above, must look like.

  I tried hard.

  But I could not.

  I looked ludicrous and knew it.

  The image filled my mind and spirit.