Legacy of the Blade: The Complete Trilogy

by Joseph J. Bailey

  Those coming, my parents, my teacher, my brother, and a few friends and close family members, would be witness to my choice—my desire to stay or go.

  Before me, eldritch runes shimmered and whirled hypnotically about the portal, cascading colors around the gateway to the outside.

  One choice, and the world beyond could be my future.

  Beneath my feet, the myriad layers of my home fell away to the earthen depths, filled with life and activity, greenery, waterways, and beings moving purposefully through the day. Suffused with inner lambency, only the light shifting within the clear walls obstructed my vision.

  This world, so unique, so perfect, and so complete, was surrounded by a wasteland of demonic despoliation.

  Should I stay here, cloistered away in this idyllic Eden, living a life many would dream of, one many had died for, or should I venture out to bring its wealth to a wider world?

  This was my Choice.

  In anticipation of my arrival, two satchels lay on the ground.

  On the left, a long rune-emblazoned staff was strapped to a leather kit filled with all I would need in the outside world.

  Or so it was hoped.

  On the right was another leather satchel, this one left empty for me to fill with my purpose, my imagination, should I remain in the Undermount.

  The time of my Choosing had come.

  A Conversation

  We stood together in Mistress Alyendra’s study.

  Water flowed freely over the limpid walls, allowing only hints of what lay beyond the room to impinge upon the pristine space. Plants cascaded from the ceiling, living pillars that reached down from high above to spill across the floor just as other vegetation grew up from planters to tumble across the ceiling.

  The room was large enough to accommodate all the numerous growing things in the chamber while still feeling close and warm.

  Birds, insects, and fey creatures flitted through the air, perching in nooks and crannies along the walls and among the greenery.

  Although I stood, Mistress Alyendra had sculpted benches for us to sit on while she spoke.

  Though I was human, Mistress Alyendra was sidhe. She was as mutable as the seasons and as magical as a child’s imagination. Her soft skin glowed with an inner radiance, as if a small sun were hidden deep within her heart of hearts.

  Having seen the fires of her will at work, the power of her Creations, I did not doubt that whole constellations of stars resided within her chest.

  I watched her, my heart filled with love and thanks, as she asked me one last question.

  “Have you made your decision, Ilya?” Although it was soft as a lullaby, I could hear the power in my teacher’s voice, a subtle resonance that carried through the room, filling the air with the crackling of potential.

  I could appreciate the changes in timbre in my teacher’s always musical voice, just as she had trained me, though she masked her emotions.

  She asked a simple question, one that echoed on many levels.

  Would I stay?

  Would I risk my life in leaving?

  Though my training was complete, was I truly ready to depart?

  Was I prepared to give up all I had loved, all my family, friends, and everything this life entailed?

  Would she be able to cope with the sadness of my absence?

  Who would fill the void in her life after I had left?

  So many questions.

  No sure answers.

  “Mistress, I have.”

  In my heart I was certain, though fear rose within me. I felt I knew what I must do, what was right.

  She did not ask me to share my decision with her.

  The answer would come tomorrow, when she saw it for herself.

  As always, she was, in her own way, making sure I was ready for what was to come.

  A Decision Made

  “Ilya!”

  My mother rushed forward and encircled me with her loving arms, pulling me close.

  Her hair smelled of honeysuckle and the deep currents moving beneath the earth.

  Joining my mother, my father and brother hugged me as well. Theirs was the smell of the earth itself and a job well done.

  Deciding to stay within or leave this womb of security, held safely inside these arms, was exactly what Choosing was about, what I must decide between.

  Though I knew they desperately wanted me to stay, my parents did not try to sway me one way or the other. They merely wished to make the most of the moment and show me their love.

  This was the greatest act of respect and appreciation they could give.

  Despite every heart-wrenching emotion, I could not have been more thankful.

  Mistress Alyendra glided behind my parents, her ethereal presence felt but not seen.

  I could feel my brother’s tears on my cheek.

  Breathing them all in, I held my family close and encompassed them with my love.

  This place, this moment, was perfect.

  For me.

  What of everyone else?

  What of those trapped on the outside, unable to find a way in, unable to find a place of solace and comfort amidst the desolation and violence?

  Where would they go?

  Where would they call home after the demons took everything away?

  Visitors

  News spread through the city like wildfire.

  We had a visitor!

  There was someone from the outside calling to us.

  But, miracle of miracles, the visitor was not asking us to save him; he was asking to help save us!

  Visitors were such a rarity that the mere arrival of someone from outside was the most momentous event of the day.

  That this visitor did not ask to come in, did not request succor, but offered it instead was unheard of…at least in my time.

  What kind of person did not flee from the world of demons?

  What type of man risked his own life to save ours, even when our lives did not need saving?

  Who willingly put others before himself at the risk of his own already tenuous future?

  These were questions I wanted answered.

  Not surprisingly, I was not the only one.

  Our visitor’s presence shone across every wall in the city that had someone nearby interested in seeing his arrival’s depiction.

  These projections were as vivid as if we were standing outside on the cliffs with him, for it was a “him” after all.

  Two hims, actually.

  The first caller was a stately elderly gentleman of dark skin and noble bearing. He must be a wizard, and a mighty one at that, to brave the wilds with little visible accompaniment.

  The second arrival was about as far from the first as could be humanly possible. He was pale, gangly and awkward. While the older wizard wore his years nobly, like a great cloak, the second cowered under the burden of his few years, ready to buckle at any moment.

  Though the adolescent looked frail and out of place, he was brave enough to be there on the mountainside facing his fears, not running from them.

  Clothed in robes like the elder wizard, the second, younger visitor must be an apprentice.

  Like me.

  They clung tenaciously to the barren slope like stubborn mountain goats, unwilling to give up their perch.

  Bruen D’Aber, Speaker for Kun’Daer, gave them a welcome.

  Of sorts.

  Bruen’s bearded visage materialized in the air before the newcomers, much larger than life-size, floating over the depths of the valley away from the mountainside where the two wizards stood attentively.

  The elder wizard bowed graciously to Bruen as Bruen’s magnified image appeared in the air before them.

  “I am Nomba of the Magisterium Arcanum, and it would be my great pleasure to help protect you and your citizens from demonic assault.”

  Bruen snorted dismissively and shook his head. “We know who you are, and we are not interested.”

  My heart sank.

  This was
no way to treat a guest, even one whose presence you did not wish.

  “Your shield is the exact opposite of what we want.”

  But Nomba’s knowledge could be of use!

  Could Bruen not see the folly of his own pride?

  Our city had survived so long through patience, care, and foresight, not by dismissing new ideas and new opportunities.

  Perhaps a new Speaker was needed, one who still looked to the future rather than the past.

  The elder wizard waited patiently, graciously, and listened to Bruen without scorn or acrimony while the Speaker finished. “We have survived by remaining undetected. Your shield would call out our presence as assuredly as a beacon. This is something we do not wish, nor will we allow it.”

  But this shield could be vital for us if we wished to expand, to grow, and flourish!

  What of the days to come, when more than the Chosen ventured out?

  What of Kun’Daer’s future?

  The wizard called Nomba acquiesced to Bruen’s wishes cordially, his gesture full of humility, without any hint of hurt or disagreement, as though the gift of his effort and trust was in no way affronted by Bruen’s slight. “If this is your wish, I will certainly respect it. You have but to offer a summons, and I will gladly return.”

  And, as quickly as they had appeared, the two wizards vanished.

  But they left in their wake a burning curiosity and mountains of unanswered questions.

  Where were the wizards from?

  Was their offer truly in good faith?

  Could they truly shield themselves and others from demonic attack without cutting themselves off from Uërth completely, as we had done in Kun’Daer?

  If they could venture out to try to change the world, why couldn’t I?

  In a Glance

  As my family separated from me, reluctantly letting go of the hug that bound us together, I turned and gazed upon the circle of faces gathered to witness my Choice and live with the consequences.

  The passageway to Leyalia G’nost was large, almost a chamber unto itself. Whole battalions could easily pass through its wide avenue unhampered.

  Ghostly light filled the chamber, emanating from within the overarching crystalline walls, casting long shadows of trees and other vegetation, lining the passage in myriad directions.

  The tiny cluster of those gathered to see me off was tragically small in such an expansive place but, counterintuitively, the power of their feelings filled the space as fully as any army, drawing me into the intimacy and import of their presence.

  They were here for me as much as I was here for them.

  My father’s clear blue eyes were filled with loving concern for his beloved daughter.

  My brother’s eyes shone with fierce pride and courage, perhaps in anticipation of the day when he, too, would stand where I now stood, ready to meet the world and his destiny.

  My mother’s gaze was filled with longing, love, and acceptance, as though my Choice had already been made and she was but recalling one more bittersweet memory among many others.

  My friends’ eyes were filled with the loss of a life that might no longer be theirs. This loss battled with expectation in the hope that I would stay and the threads of our lives would remain woven together,

  So many faces, each with far more emotion than any single visage should be able to handle.

  Finally, my glance settled on Mistress Alyendra. Alyendra’s eyes burned with unrelenting fire. Hers were the flames of belief. She believed in me and what I was capable of, whether I stayed or left.

  Like Alyendra, I did too.

  A Choice Chosen

  Mistress Alyendra stepped forward, her movements lighter than air and more fluid than the softest breeze.

  Her radiance lit the passageway with the light of a newly risen moon.

  Her voice, when it came, was the music of the heavens, an ethereal chorus that lifted hearts and stilled the mind.

  I appreciated the power of her voice because my heart was pounding in my chest.

  Though her voice was magic, everyone’s eyes were on me—expectant.

  “Ilya, my dear one, voice of life and living, the time of Choosing has come.”

  I tried to keep my hands from shaking, the adrenaline coursing through my veins making self-control harder than it already was.

  Despite my body’s reaction, the upwelling anxiety, the moment of indecision, I was surprisingly calm.

  I had Chosen.

  I just had to let everyone know my Choice.

  Mistress Alyendra continued. “You have before you two Choices.

  “With one, you may stay within Kun’Daer and live the life of your choosing, selecting a path befitting your talents and imagination.

  “With the other, you may venture out into the wide world and offer your vision to Heaven and Uërth, your destiny unfettered and free.”

  The passageway was hushed. I could hear my own breath, the gentle susurration of fabric in air currents, and feel my pulse rhythmically pounding through my veins.

  By the looks in the eyes of all those gathered, it was not my future that would be decided here, but theirs.

  “Ilya, the time of your Choosing has come.”

  I resisted the urge to wipe my palms on my robes, ignoring the sweat expressing the depths of my nervousness.

  “What is your Choice?”

  Calming myself, I took a deep breath and projected my voice over all those gathered as I had been taught, the subtle weave of magic imbuing my words with love, kindness, and surety.

  “Just as you love me, I love all of you.

  “I make this Choice not for myself, but for everyone.”

  Exhaling the gathered tension, I turned, bent down, and selected the pack with the rune-wrought staff.

  With an ease I did not feel, I put on the backpack and stepped through the portal.

  An Unwelcome Arrival

  Entering the outside world was a shock.

  I had no words to describe the disparity, even though I had known what to expect.

  One moment I was in a place filled with light and love; in the next I was in a sere, hostile wasteland with no signs of life.

  The warmth of home, the endless intrinsic energies that lifted the spirit, and the press of people and ideas were all gone.

  Along with the entirety of my life to this point.

  I was utterly alone.

  A pocket dimension only loosely connected to Uërth, Kun’Daer might as well have been whole worlds away for any chance of aid I might receive from home.

  I had Chosen.

  Now I had to live with my Choice.

  A chill wind blew across the nape of my neck.

  I shivered.

  Instinctively, I looked around as I drew my staff, muting the glow that arose when its burnished wood touched my hands, light still sparkling faintly within the luminous crystal at its tip.

  There was nothing to raise an alarm.

  Yet.

  Or was there?

  The mountain dropped away steeply before me, gray granite rocks tumbling toward the valley bottom in a vertiginous, weathered cascade.

  Behind and above me, the mountain surged upward, crashing against a steel sky filled with foreboding clouds.

  I stood precariously but a step or two from certain death.

  High atop the peaks, I sensed movement.

  There was nowhere for me to run.

  There was nowhere for me to hide.

  Was this how most Choices ended?

  Immediately after making one?

  I held the ensorcelled staff at the ready before me as I intoned a song to give me strength, surety, and quickness. Feeling the magic take hold, an uplifting surge of sustained uncanny adrenaline, I sung another to offer some defensive safeguards against the encounter to come.

  If I could, I would have woven another ward to calm myself down.

  I was on my own on that front.

  Wreathed in an invisible mantle of aural incande
scence, I quickly scanned my surroundings, noting how little room I had to maneuver on the cliff face. One misstep would be as dangerous as whatever was moving through the crags above.

  If the thing overhead had not sensed my arrival, I might have tried to sneak away before it noticed me, but that was no longer an option. Even with the aid of a song to propel me forward, the demon above could surely outmaneuver me over the difficult terrain on the steep cliffs.

  Either running or skulking away was not an option, however.

  Neither could I go back.

  I sensed the change in the land’s timbre as the beast above roused itself, ready to feed.

  I knew exactly what the demon wanted to feed on.

  Heart hammering in my chest, wind whistling fiercely past my ears, I waited for the monster to reveal itself.

  When it did, I nearly fell off the cliff.

  Were all demons that revoltingly terrible?

  Could this thing be one of the nicer-looking ones?

  The creature rushing down the mountain toward me was unlike anything I had ever seen. Multilimbed, scabrous, and trailing a thick, slimy ichor, the infernal had all the best features of a monstrous arachnid crossed with an many-toothed octopus. It glowed with a sickening green pallor, a misshapen beast thrown up from the deepest recesses of the sea.

  The demon oozed across the mountainside as though it was being poured downhill. It did not so much as climb or crawl over the cliff as flow like some obscene slime.

  Seeping downhill, its assorted limbs thrashed and waved frenetically as if seeking purchase on a surface that was not there.

  Strangely, the demon seemed to move irregularly through time. It jumped forward slightly from one moment to the next as though viewed under a pulsing strobe light.

  Like its frenzied motions, the creature seemed oddly disconnected from reality.

  I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

  I had seen more than enough.

  Raising my sidhe-wrought stave, I blasted the thing into oblivion.

  Runes lit up beneath my fingers, channeling power according to my will, the staff assessing my need and responding accordingly.