Legacy of the Blade: The Complete Trilogy

by Joseph J. Bailey

  For the sake of my quest, I hoped so.

  Maybe he could finally see the end of his long quest in sight and wanted to bring about its realization.

  However imprudently.

  All I knew was that Lucius could not charge headlong into that throng of demons.

  Such an action would be the end of both of us.

  I placed the palm of my hand gently atop him. The stone surface was cool and surprisingly smooth beneath my fingertips.

  “Wait, Lucius.”

  I tried to keep my voice calm and soothing, to express a patience I did not feel but one that Lucius needed. “There will be time later, but now is not that time.”

  I sensed a slight resistance beneath my touch and then a gradual stilling within him, a slow release of tension.

  Thankfully, he did not charge down the mountainside.

  I exhaled the breath I had not realized I was holding, my own tension abating.

  We would live another day.

  Such were the glorious triumphs of our journey together.

  What Was Not

  As we walked carefully away, perhaps set off by the sound of a single falling stone, I imagined a horde of nightmares, a seething wall of terror, rushing over the mountaintop toward us. Sprinting away, stumbling as I ran, I pictured the throngs of demons overcoming us, rending and tearing us apart in their grasping claws, ghostly limbs, and gnashing teeth.

  Thankfully, however, we left unaccosted.

  Perhaps sensing my mood, thinking my fear of the demons was primarily anxiety for the elementals’ home, Lucius offered reassuringly, “The juel’dara must seek elsewhere for, like Kerraboer, Noema’jin is unattainable.

  “Maeareth’s shield has made Noema’jin inviolable to their kind.

  “Any devourers of living essence that remain here will be destroyed. It is only a matter of time, of stone falling on stone. They will find no refuge in the Dragon’s Teeth.

  “The Uërth, too, will one day know peace, for no more devourers of life-essence will emerge from the benighted gulfs and trouble us with Maeraeth’s shields in place.”

  I was not sure exactly how that was supposed to reassure me in the here and now, but I was glad for the news.

  The Uërth, too, would be thankful when that blight was cleansed.

  But, until we had assured that the elementals knew where to go and what obstacles they would face in overcoming the demons, nothing was safe, the elementals’ homeland included.

  Whether Noema’jin was protected or not.

  Or the Uërth itself, for that matter.

  As if in answer to my unspoken concern, Lucius continued, “I have let the el’amin know of these usurpers.”

  Lucius was, in his own way, trying to let me know that my fears, though warranted, would be resolved as best they could.

  Hopefully.

  “Others will be here soon, but first they must take care of a larger host.”

  Now, that was not reassuring.

  Or it was reassuring in the sense that I was heartened to hear that demons were being dispatched by the elementals, but not in the sense that there were many more infernals that we could run into.

  We would just have to watch where we ran.

  So Close but Yet So Far

  I was surprised at how far we still had to run to reach Noema’jin.

  When Lucius had indicated that we were close to the heart of the elementals’ home, I thought he had meant it was nearby.

  Apparently our definitions of ‘close’ were very different.

  My definition was something akin to, ‘over the next mountain or two.’ Or, perhaps, ‘within a day or two of walking.’

  Not ‘another week of hard trekking across nigh impenetrable mountains.’

  Lucius’ definition of ‘near’ was perhaps more accurately surmised as, ‘something close on a continental or global scale.’ As in, ‘Noema’jin is close as a dragon flies over a hundred leagues of impassable mountains.’

  I was exaggerating.

  Mostly because I was tired and on edge from maintaining constant vigil for demons when I had hoped to be somewhat safe.

  I needed to be more flexible.

  And less whiny.

  In reality, despite all its dangers, this trek was much safer than many others we could make.

  And we were fortunate to be in a position to make this one.

  What would have happened if the demons had seen us first?

  My mind was fertile ground for this answer.

  A raging wall of demonic retribution was but one of many possible scenarios.

  Others included, but were not limited to: possession and being held in thrall, being forced to take part in further atrocities and unholy rituals; being the focus of a blood rite or feeding frenzy, my body and soul offered for demonic consumption; being somehow banished to the Abyss itself regardless of Lucius’ reassurances that Maeraeth’s global seal effectively prevented such travel; being slowly tortured in ways far crueler and more devious than any means ever devised by mortal mind; and being slowly bent to demonic will, gradually becoming one of them, perhaps even singing of the world’s fall instead of its elevation.

  More uplifting fantasies along a similar vein helped urge me forward across the otherwise serene landscape. I did my best to let the dark visions fade into the background chorus of the land, minor discordant notes amidst a much larger seamless composition.

  With these thoughts in the background, we walked along a lush valley bottom beside a small stream, overhanging foliage draping the dancing waters in lively shadows and silhouettes. Insects and fairies flitted lightly atop the water’s reflective surface, adding layers of buzzing hums to the brook’s gentle susurrations.

  “You must stop your wallowing, Noema’dar. The djen’caer sing for the world’s betterment, not its fall.

  “Your thoughts, like your words, ring loudly in the essence, reverberating near and far.

  “Do not shirk your responsibility.

  “Be the world you wish to restore.”

  Did Lucius sense my thoughts and emotions like I read the world’s music?

  Regardless, Lucius was so right.

  How had this happened?

  Why had I been moving in such a dark place?

  This certainly was not me.

  I looked around.

  The day was bright and beautiful but, until that moment, I might as well have been blind to it.

  I was rejecting what was for what could be.

  But I was not rejecting what was for what should be.

  Or what I wanted to be.

  Or even what was likely to be.

  Why?

  Why had my music grown dark and dim without cause or justification?

  What did Lucius see in me that I myself was missing?

  I stilled my mind, letting the thoughts that kept pushing forward, demanding my attention, rush away with the flowing stream.

  These thoughts were of me, but they were not me.

  I calmed myself and listened.

  I walked and waited.

  Time passed as we moved along the creek’s edge, and still I listened as morning shadows shifted to afternoon.

  The subtleties of the day, of the valley, of the stream, of Lucius moving beside me, of my part in this place, were astounding, but there were other notes as well, other songs, other voices.

  Not all of these voices were happy.

  Not all of these voices were well.

  Not all of these voices were of the Uërth.

  Had I let this music take hold in me?

  Had these movements somehow steered my thoughts and feelings?

  Alert to the obvious dangers, the risk of potential attack, had I let this darkness build in me unknowingly?

  Had I started to lose my way without even realizing I was straying?

  How far would I have gone if Lucius had not steered me back?

  I did not know, but I would do my best not to find out.

  Singing to
myself, letting the music of the place fill me just as I filled it, I sang, my voice carrying near and far, if only within the confines of my mind.

  For I knew that even then the mind reached out and helped make the world a home.

  I just had needed a bit of a reminder.

  Reaching out to Lucius, I rested my hand on his topmost facet in deep thanks and appreciation, for he had helped guide me back even before I knew that I had started to wander.

  He was the very definition of a friend.

  And for that, too, I sang.

  Missing

  It took some time, but my mind finally settled.

  I began to fully drink in the day, my attention no longer wandering to realms dark and grim.

  The valley was so alive with possibility. Each of us, from Lucius on down to the smallest living things, was a microcosm of the greater movements in and around us. I joined my voice to this greater chorus, humming my gratitude, reinforcing the web of potential as best I was able.

  Taking a brief respite, we sat beside the stream we had been following through the day. I found a welcoming, weather-worn rock to rest on, its cool surface partially covered in luxuriant moss.

  Lucius settled into the grass beside me, resembling but another stone among many in moments.

  As we sat and listened, the rustling and swaying of leaves joined the movements of the stream in a reassuring rhythm. Tall trees moved in tune with the wind’s time, their easy patience filling me with similar ease. Thick grasses, flowering plants, variegated magical growths, and hummocked mosses covered the ground in a soft down.

  Small gaps in the vegetation were visible here and there, the bare earth showing where plants had yet to fill in the exposed spaces.

  As I studied these spots more closely, my relaxing reverie dropped as quickly as it had arisen.

  I sat up and began to look around the glen more carefully.

  These empty gaps were everywhere.

  Had these spots all recently been occupied by elementals?

  Where were all the elementals?

  How many remained?

  Did any remain?

  Had they all gone to Noema’jin to face the demonic invasion?

  Looking up at me, my question as yet unvoiced, Lucius gave a short nod of confirmation.

  The elementals were gone.

  The arrival of the demons, finally pushing through the elementals’ defenses after all these years, had forced them out, had made them respond.

  How long would these valleys hold without the elementals’ magic to protect them, should the demons persist?

  Lucius remained silent on this front.

  I hoped the el’amin would one day be able to come back, that only a few holes would be left unfilled.

  Fully comprehending the emptiness in the valley, I appreciated Lucius’ presence all the more.

  Speculation

  “What do you think the demons are doing, Lucius?

  “Will they disperse?

  “Now that Noema’jin is shielded, will the infernals strike against the dragons’ home like they did against the el’amin?”

  I hummed a weave that would allow me to directly understand his words, should Lucius offer any from where he rested by my feet alongside the stream.

  Lucius shrugged noncommittally. “The juel’dara generally disperse after a defeat. That they remain together does not bode well.

  “Perhaps there is greater evil guiding their actions.

  “There is a chance that greater devourers of living essence crossed over before the Chaos Gate’s fall.

  “Duaga, like the ones we saw herding the demonic forces, are not the greatest of demons.”

  Again, he shrugged. “If a juel’dathra or something worse crossed over from the shores of Night, whole legions would march to its whims.”

  A juel’dathra?

  A devourer of all essence?

  Although I was far from an expert demonologist, everyone studied demonic lore as part of their education. The Big Book of Knowledge would take a student as far into studies of Darkness as she was capable of going. The Little Book of Spells could let those so inclined put some of those studies into effect. Based on what I had read, I did not think demon princes often left the Abyss, for their powers were intimately tied to the fundamental powers of their plane.

  So broad and powerful were demon princes’ reaches that they did not have to leave the Abyss in order to exert their influence.

  With the Chaos Gate closed, perhaps one or more juel’dathra had crossed, anticipating that their influence on Uërth would be diminished or gone entirely after its collapse.

  I sincerely hoped not to find out.

  Uërth would quaver in their wake.

  Something Worse

  Something worse came through that very day.

  Standing, our conversation at an end, I dusted myself off and began walking, appreciating the feeling of the sun’s warmth on my skin though the sun was, as always, largely banked behind clouds.

  In the distance, through the dense foliage and haze of moisture rising from the forest, I could see the next ridge we would have to cross, the one Lucius had assured me would bring us within a short walk of Noema’jin. Though it was largely covered by vegetation and magical symbiotes, toward the mountain’s top much raw rock was visible.

  I hoped to reach the summit within a day.

  Lucius, apparently, just hoped to reach the summit.

  Though I had not realized it until I internalized his song as my own, Lucius was aware of something I had missed.

  Listening, feeling, intently, I cast my awareness out.

  The forest thrummed and hummed about me, a steady, soothing mosaic layered with the harmonic resonances of untold living things. Beneath this steady weave, some dissonances, miniscule signs of weakening, could be felt, ones outside the scope of normal lived expression. These were signs of demonic incursion, damage to the land’s vast living medley.

  These perturbations, however, were not what had alerted Lucius.

  There was something else.

  After a few moments, I, too, sensed what Lucius had felt.

  There was a Darkness coming, a great discord—thunder pealing on a still, clear night.

  The source of this disturbance was heading straight for us.

  I shivered at the thought.

  Letting him know that I now knew what I had only felt subconsciously before, I asked, “What, Lucius, is that?”

  Lucius was silent for some time.

  I could sense stillness settling within him, a grim acceptance that brought him to an absolute focus.

  “That may be the end of our quest.”

  I was not ready to admit defeat just as surely as Lucius was not either. “But what is it? What should we do?”

  I could feel the storm growing closer, a great howling monstrosity that boomed across the horizon. Its voice was the death of stars and the end of reason.

  “That is a juel’vuermua’di, a devourer of fiery life-energy, and it will soon be upon us.”

  A dragon killer?

  Obviously my studies of demonic lore in The Big Book of Knowledge were sorely lacking, because I had never heard of any such entity.

  Sadly, just because I had never heard of something did not mean it was not real.

  I was grasping for hope. “Will the dragons not kill it?”

  “A full dragon flight would perhaps suffice, but they are otherwise occupied with the dregs from the battle at Noema’jin or are within their own aeries recovering.”

  My heart fluttered.

  “Can we not just hide? I could shelter us under my staff, masking our presence.”

  Again, Lucius’ voice was firm and calm. “We could.”

  But we would not.

  He was saying we would not!

  Why?

  I was slow, but eventually I got it.

  Because he was all there was.

  If he did not act, then the juel’vuermua’di would wreak unt
old havoc, perhaps joining forces with the surviving demonic forces to lead them against the dragons.

  Or something worse.

  I could not say or even guess.

  “You must take shelter, Noema’dar. This is no battle for you.”

  “Nor you!”

  I could almost see the smile spread across his facets. “All battles are mine.”

  More quietly, he added, “Whether won or lost.

  “You must take shelter, Stone Singer.

  “The storm that is about to arrive could wash you and this entire valley away.

  “Go as far as you are able. I will do my best to be here when the storm is gone.”

  As simply as that, Lucius set me aside in preparation for the tempest that was to come.

  Chanting, empowering my legs with the swiftness of the wind, I dashed away from my friend, my anchor in the coming holocaust.

  The dragon killer came from the north and west, its wings as wide as the clouds, their beat the clap of thunder, its breath the crackling roar of lightning.

  Growing steadily closer, filled with incalculable geometries, the demon unfurled itself from some extradimensional space, growing more terrible and expansive with each permutation.

  Fleeing the incoming terror, I found a recessed nook at the foot of one of the towering peaks, a moss-draped stone alcove shaded by ancient trees. I feared these boughs that had survived many upheavals would not last through the next.

  Whether I would endure was equally in doubt.

  Though I could no longer see him through the vegetation and distance, I sensed Lucius in the air, waiting at the valley’s center, one doom preparing to meet another.

  Although my heart feared the worst, my friend was not gone yet.

  In those moments of dread waiting, our futures held in abeyance, I gave everything I had to appreciating Lucius’ song, for if he perished it would be my task to sing it to the world.

  In what I feared were my last moments, the deep and abiding peace and patience of the earth enveloped me.

  If this was the end, Lucius’ last gifts were moments full of joy and contentment.

  At least until the demon came.

  Shrouded beneath its aegis, the rune staff glowed with a lavender light, its shield but a fragile barrier between life and death.