Legacy of the Blade: The Complete Trilogy

by Joseph J. Bailey

  Mortals were capable of so much, just as they were capable of so little.

  Such were the risks of striving for the highest heights.

  Sometimes one fell.

  In the case of mortals, this often meant splattering, dislocation, and breakage.

  He did his best to prevent such calamities.

  But even he was not infallible.

  Thankfully, just as many learned to fly.

  Advice

  Lucius told me we had reached the lands of the dragons.

  If I had not studied the topic in some depth in The Big Book of Knowledge, I might have expected the dragons’ aeries to be located in volcanic wastelands or barren rocky heights, landscapes denuded of vegetation and most every other living thing.

  In reality, the dragons’ homeland was the opposite. Along with the bordering domain of the elementals, the fastnesses of the Alaurana Leyalia, the Unending Wood to the far north, and a few other remnants of the world before the demonic invasion, the dragons’ demesne was one of the only remaining places on Uërth protected from demonic assault.

  And even these lands were under threat.

  For now, however, I sank into the majesty of the forests here, in this place, seemingly untouched by time or turmoil.

  I swam within a chorus of song richer and more complex than any I had ever experienced directly. Mistress Alyendra had exposed me to recordings and recreations of great majesty across time and dimension, but they were not the originals, the music itself. The appreciation and awe I felt for the opportunity to be in such a sacred place was enough to overwhelm. Actually hearing—feeling—the refrain of so many living things, the echoes and interactions of their lives, was enough to bring tears to my eyes and cause my heart to leap in joy and wonder.

  Trees glimmered in a thousand shades of sunlight, the light refracted by untold numbers of magical symbiotes basking in the richness of the ambient magics. Dust motes, and all the living things within, softened the air and the mood. Fey creatures flitted on the currents, buoyed by the echoes of countless exhalations, lives breathing in and out, letting go. Living things grew and thrived wherever there was space and opportunity, their voices symphonies rising together in cooperation, others clashing discordantly in war.

  The richness of life’s song enveloped me, and I wished for it never to let go.

  This was the song I would sing; this was the hymn I would raise to the heavens and cast across the Uërth.

  This anthem would lift the world up and help it be born anew.

  Despite the beauty, the lustrous complexity of the living mosaic, there was a sadness, a lack, a resounding paucity to the forest’s song.

  This, too, I could not ignore.

  The forest, so rich and vibrant, was but one part of what should have been a greater symphony, now but a single instrument playing alone in a vast empty chamber, a chamber that had once been alive with other refrains, other opuses.

  Immersed in the woods’ chorus, I could almost miss that this composition had once been part of a much larger, multidimensional movement.

  But I could not forget.

  This absence, the emptiness created by the demonic blight, was the silence the world needed filled, the one I intended to give my life to help restore.

  Lucius bumped me, pushing me to the side as I stumbled over and away, catching myself by placing a hand on the broad trunk of an ancient tree.

  My reverie lessened but not broken, I asked, “What’s the matter? Why did you do that?”

  Lucius’ intention was as clear to me as the music all around. “You must pay attention and be careful.”

  “I am being careful.”

  Wasn’t I?

  I would not let his gesture frustrate me or get me upset. This moment was too important for that.

  “Open your eyes and see,” he replied.

  “That is exactly what I am doing,” was my answer.

  I was starting to sound petulant.

  I did not want to sound petulant.

  “Even with your head in the clouds, you must still keep your eyes on the ground.” To emphasize his point and direct my misguided attention, he moved up and down rapidly.

  I saw then what he meant.

  I had almost stepped in a large, steaming mound of dragon dung.

  Something obvious that I had somehow blatantly missed.

  Lucius was right. I needed to learn to pay better attention even while paying attention.

  Life’s beauty could not distract me from life’s demands.

  Not if I wanted to keep enjoying them.

  Even here.

  Somewhat chastised, I offered, “Thank you, Lucius. I appreciate your concern and advice. I will try to pay closer attention in the future.”

  Smiling, I added, “I only have one pair of boots, after all.”

  Apparently satisfied, Lucius floated ahead through the undergrowth, the shimmering dewdrops of glistening ferns falling from him as he moved through the luxuriant understory, one wondrous chord among many.

  Appreciating the tone of his music amongst all the rest, I stepped forward cautiously, making sure to avoid the heap of dragon dung while also enjoying the woods’ varied ensemble.

  There would be much more manure ahead, just as there would be much more music.

  I did my best to take in both.

  A New World

  The pile of dragon dung was the most dangerous encounter I had on our first day in the dragons’ forested haven.

  But it was far from the most exciting.

  Having grown up in a system of caves almost completely isolated from the outside world, I had never been in a true forest, much less seen dragons in their natural element.

  Each step, each glance, each sound was a wonder.

  But seeing my first dragon was beyond imagining.

  A dragon on the wing was like watching hope given birth.

  Or seeing hope survive.

  The dragon flight arced overhead, wings glistening boldly in the light of a setting sun, rainbow hues splashing off iridescent scales shedding illumination like cascading water.

  Swimming through the air effortlessly, in tune with their natural element, the dragons struck a beautiful harmony, one echoed in my heart.

  I could not guess at their physical scale, but their spirits filled the heavens.

  I had no words.

  Thankfully, I needed none.

  If the forest embodied the song of life, then the dragons expressed the music of magic, from the heights of Heaven to the depths of despair. The great wyrms were all the emotions, tones, and ideas that empowered enchantment, from terrible fear to awesome majesty.

  All this was felt in a moment, for I only saw the dragons for the briefest of instants passing between the intertwined branches of overshadowing trees.

  This fleeting glimpse was a window into an unimaginably wider world, one I had only dreamed of until now.

  I turned my gaze away from the gap in the trees to Lucius, who was weaving purposefully through the understory.

  As amazing as dragons are, sometimes simple things are even more so.

  Like a floating rock.

  Noema’jin

  “What is the best way to Kerraboer, Lucius?”

  We had stopped for the night in a clearing formed where one forest giant had fallen to make room for others.

  Overhead, the stars, rarely visible since the Fall but a wonder I had longed to see in person for many years, seemed to have descended to us as the air filled with the shimmers, flashes, and patterns of illumination from nocturnal creatures. Lit softly by the bioluminescence, Lucius regarded me silently without responding.

  His attention, posture, and demeanor, however, told me what he felt.

  We were going the best way to Kerraboer.

  Was there any question?

  Why would he lead us any other way?

  I smiled, humming briefly to myself to allow us to communicate directly more readily. “What lies ahead on our path? Is
there anything I should be ready for or anticipate?”

  I trusted Lucius implicitly, but a bit of knowledge and preparation could make the challenging bearable. At present, Uërth was full of challenges and barely bearable. Anything we could do to change that would increase our odds of success.

  Lucius drifted to the ground, nestling amidst the leaves, settling in as though in preparation for a long discussion.

  Given what little I knew of Lucius thus far, I doubted his discussion would be anything even remotely related to extensive. He did, however, appreciate the fine arts of exaggeration and embellishment, at least when it came to setting the tone and tenor for his thoughts, so much so that he seldom needed more than body language to communicate effectively.

  “If the vuermua’di allows us to continue, we will cross the lands of the dragons heading east and north.”

  “Is there a chance they will not let us cross?” I had not considered this possibility, thinking the mere fact that we were not demons would be enough for the dragons to tolerate our presence in their lands.

  As in many things, my naïveté was telling and somewhat disheartening.

  Lucius did not answer directly, but his carriage was answer enough. I projected my face on his to personify his feelings and imagined an eyebrow raised questioningly.

  “Are you serious?” the eyebrow asked.

  Aloud, I answered, “I suppose there is a very real chance the dragons will not approve of our presence in their lands.”

  Lucius’ demeanor changed rapidly, and I sensed his mirth. “The vuermua’di will let us cross. We are in each other’s debt.”

  Somewhat confused, but glad for the news, I asked, “How so?”

  “The el’amin, my last wera’dun Noema’lun, and the vuermua’di joined together to halt a demonic invasion and the attendant despoliation of our homes.

  “This was, by the reckoning of guraem, very recent.

  “The vuermua’di will not forget our aid, just as we will not forget theirs.

  “The dragons will let us pass.”

  Continuing as if I had not interrupted him, Lucius said, “From the lands of the dragons, we will move into those of the el’amin. Our lands saw more strife than those of the vuermua’di. Despite this, our homeland is mostly safe.”

  I liked Lucius’ candor.

  Mostly safe was like only slightly dangerous. Only a little was enough to get one killed. However, they were the best option we had.

  “We will visit Noema’jin, the heart of my home, before heading more directly northward to Kerraboer.”

  I thought Lucius was done for a time, but after a few moments’ pause he continued, “You will need hun’zar in the days ahead. At Noema’jin, you will find them.”

  I would need sharers of water?

  People I could trust?

  “Do you mean friends? Allies?”

  Lucius’ response was a quick bob, a brief yes.

  “Are you not friend enough?” I asked him.

  Lucius shook in place, the sound accompanied by the rustling of leaves, the elemental equivalent of laughter. “After we leave the lands of the el’amin, who can say?”

  I could not argue with that.

  If Lucius thought allies were needed, then allies we would have.

  There were worse things to have by your side.

  A Remembrance

  My family was enjoying an outing in the Crystal Caverns.

  At least that is what I called them.

  Adults had other names for the caverns, things like Heaven’s Refuge and Starfall.

  These caverns wove tortuously throughout the mountain for many leagues, reaching farther and farther below ground. At the topmost regions, the area most often seen by visitors like us, the area was well-maintained and regularly enjoyed by the people of Kun’Daer. Farther in, the caverns became so isolated that no one ventured within.

  On the cavern’s outskirts, where we now strolled between pillars soaring into the darkness, lost among the shadows of the distant roof, columns that resembled nothing more than irregular parts of some gigantic creature, there were but few pedestrians on this day. Bioluminescent organisms provided soft lighting in many hues that lent a mystery and ethereal quality to the rock formations already highlighted by their unusual shapes and structures. Cascading symbiotes, swathes of jewel-toned, magic-consuming organisms, further accentuated the chamber’s features, providing points of interest from every conceivable angle. Small creatures flickered and hummed, floating through the air, motes of living dust.

  We followed a carefully manicured path between the organic rock formations and massive gemstones, listening to the echoes of falling water and appreciating the natural luminescence of the stones and cave dwellers.

  We talked excitedly about what we were seeing, imagining what we were not, our words but one more series of reverberations among many. Our conversation moved in fits and starts, at times charging ahead animatedly while at others retreating into the silent darkness brooding between distant columns.

  Though I could see other people wandering through the cavern in the distance, I imagined that we were the only ones here. I laughed, delighted by the unfurling of a luminous frond, the echoes of my laughter bouncing back to me as if someone else were sharing in my joy.

  Another visitor strolled by, her movements as graceful as the unfolding fibrils of the frond.

  She stopped next to us to appreciate the branching filamentous growth.

  As she bent over the fronds, I noticed the lady was sidhe. I could tell because she seemed to glow softly with an inner radiance much like the surrounding magical creatures. Glancing over at me, she said, “You have a lovely Voice. Would you like to learn to Sing?”

  Her eyes were like a star-filled night, depthless and filled with shimmering lights. They lit up my spirit and made me want to burst into chorus.

  In that moment, everything changed.

  Of course I wanted to sing!

  Why, wasn’t I singing already?

  My parents looked at me fondly, their faces a mixture of pride, happiness, and confusion finding resolution, for they knew what I did not.

  I had found my Calling.

  A Word from an Old Friend

  Mistress Alyendra’s face beamed back at me from the projection within the protective shroud erected by my rune staff. Her face shone with the light of the stars, though none were present, for she greeted us from far beneath the ground.

  Mistress Alyendra stood within the confines of her study, surrounded by assorted plantings, the sounds of moving water whispering behind her. Framing her lively face, Mistress Alyendra’s hair glimmered like spun platinum with other vibrant shades flashing brilliantly as she moved.

  Though I would be sleeping beneath the stars, or, more accurately, the clouds that masked the stars, I had put up the shroud lest our conversation be overheard. I did not sense any threats or eavesdroppers, but such impressions were far from a guarantee.

  Lucius floated beside me patiently, as much the reason for this conversation as any.

  I wished for both my benefactors to know one another.

  Since I was friends with both Lucius and Mistress Alyendra, they would need to be friends with each other in turn. This mutual symmetry would be the cornerstone of our relationship.

  Whether they were in agreement with my sentiment or not.

  Gesturing to my teacher as if she were with us, I offered an introduction. “Mistress Alyendra, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Lucius, el’amin and constant companion to wera’dun worldwide. Lucius has most graciously offered to accompany me to Kerraboer.

  “Lucius, this is Mistress Alyendra, Il’dyaeria Ashentaré of the Alaurana Leyalia, my teacher and fast friend. Mistress Alyendra has taught me most everything I know that is worthy of note and continues to grant me the boon of her wisdom and assistance on my quest.”

  Though I expected some reply to my introductions, I was met with silence.

  Finally turning to Mistre
ss Alyendra, whose smile seemed to evoke something playfully sinister, I asked, “What is the matter, Mistress?”

  My teacher laughed, the music of her voice filling the shroud with true joy, tinges of irony and humor, and the vitality of life itself. “Thank you for the introductions, Ilya. They are most welcome. But they are unnecessary. Luecaeus and I already know one another.”

  “You do?” I tried to mask my surprise, but I failed.

  Miserably.

  “We have known each other from ages long before the arrival of the Alaurana Nuerda.”

  I croaked, “You have?”

  Could I not utter a more coherent query?

  Had my surprise completely addled my reason?

  Lucius ducked, the motion akin to a bow. If I had not known any better, I would almost have said he did it shyly.

  “You have found a great companion and champion, Ilya. My heart sings at your fortune and mine, for I am filled with joy that you will know Luecaeus’ company and that his stubbornness through the protracted years of demonic occupation has kept him alive long enough to grant it.

  “I am glad Luecaeus responded to my summons.”

  This was entirely unexpected.

  I had hoped to give the gift of friendship, but now I was receiving it instead, on a level deeper than I had imagined or anticipated.

  And Mistress Alyendra already knew Lucius?

  She had asked him to meet me?

  That certainly explained something of his willingness to help and the unbelievable fortuitousness of his happening upon me.

  “So…”

  What should I say?

  Should I offer my thanks?

  Did I need to say anything?

  “I cannot tell you how happy I am for you, Ilya, but you know how I must feel, for our hearts are of one spirit.”

  Lucius bobbed enthusiastically.

  He was like an excited puppy or a youngling filled with elation at a newfound discovery.

  Or something…

  I took a deep breath.