Legacy of the Blade: The Complete Trilogy

by Joseph J. Bailey

  Having seen dragons, I could now say I knew their opposite. If a dragon, once knowing the very heights of Heaven, had been forced to spend an eternity in Hell, then the monstrosity approaching might be what I would expect to see.

  Twisted, malignant, and aphotic, the juel’vuermua’di came.

  And, before it, reality trembled.

  Lucius, however, held firm.

  In that moment, I sang to him, giving Lucius what strength, succor, and reassurance I was able to offer.

  Although not much, it was the only gift I had to give.

  Looking In

  Mistress Alyendra sang.

  She sang with all her heart.

  Her words flew out with the fullness of her expression.

  Words that could move mountains, notes that could infuse life into the inanimate, verses that could inspire and raise the spirit to unbridled heights, flowed from her with cultivated abandon.

  But she feared her words, the power of her song, would not be enough.

  The distance between them was too great.

  The thread connecting them was too thin and fragile.

  The crystal that provided the lens for her voice was too limited, its focus inadequate.

  She sang with all her heart, the entirety of her being nonetheless, for to do otherwise would mean the death of her pupil, the loss of someone she loved, a person who was like a daughter to her.

  While Ilya sang with all her soul to bolster Luecaeus in his battle with the Alaurana Nuerda, Mistress Alyendra sang with the entirety of herself to shield Ilya from the demon’s wrath.

  With a lesser foe, the limitations imposed upon her would have been insignificant, but with an enemy as august as the juel’vuermua’di, she feared the worst.

  Her fears, however, would not limit her actions, would not stop her from doing everything she was able to protect her ward.

  So Mistress Alyendra sang.

  Her voice rang to the heavens, and her spirit soared even higher.

  Her words were a shield, and they would not let Ilya fall.

  Stone in Chaos

  A terrible scream broke the valley’s stillness, shattering the calm before the storm. Fell power surged outward from the blast, and my shield quavered.

  I knew then that I would not survive.

  A challenge offered, Lucius responded in kind.

  The very air exploded in light and heat as Lucius launched forward, his trajectory followed by a resounding sonic boom.

  With but a casual flick of its barbed, chitinous wrist, the dragon killer summarily dismissed Lucius’ reply.

  Black lightning, unholy energy, lashed out in a raging gout from the demon’s mouth, engulfing Lucius in a torrent of destruction. Trees across the entire length of the valley exploded into ash and flinders while others burst into sickening flames.

  Surprisingly unscathed, Lucius sprang back for more. A wall of sizzling force met Lucius’ advance, the very air warping and twisting beneath its fury.

  Earth and rocks blew heavenward as the valley was remade beneath the catastrophic assault.

  Lucius remained unmoved.

  Unlike the valley around him.

  Watching the battle unfold, I realized then the futility of Lucius’ efforts.

  Despite all his ferocity, the unmatched power of his strikes, his undaunted will, and the intensity of his attacks, Lucius could make no impact on the demon.

  I was watching a fly battle an elephant, a battle in which the elephant had a flyswatter.

  And hated flies.

  Lucius fought valiantly, but to no avail.

  Again and again he attacked, only to be batted away disdainfully.

  In truth, I could not see their battle, for they moved far too quickly to be tracked even by eyes quickened by arcana.

  I could only gauge their battle by its effects: the surging energies of combat, the dueling songs of beings from disparate dimensions, exploding mountainsides, great craters and fissures rupturing across the earth, whole swaths of trees mowed down as though wracked by invisible tornadoes, and putrescent bolts of eldritch energy unleashing wanton destruction across the vale.

  Of the combatants, all I could see were the motions implied by the dragon killer, for though it moved like quicksilver, it was so vast that its bulk did not seem invisible, only its distinct motions.

  What I could see, or at least thought I saw, was akin to taking a quill to parchment and watching living swirls and strands of dark ink unfurl hypnotically across the canvas.

  At supramundane speeds.

  This living cloud of darkness lashed across the valley, unleashing bolts of unholy fire and virulent spells, batting and beating Lucius mercilessly.

  Though I sang to Lucius with all my might—my words, my magic, flying around him in a furious shroud—I feared my aid was far too little, far too insignificant, to make a difference.

  I sang, nonetheless, for my voice was the only ally Lucius had.

  I wished that I could raise the voice of an army, its chorus filling the valley with love and support, but my own was all I could offer.

  Finally, with a triumphant roar that split the heavens, the dragon killer clapped two terrible hands together with a crack of thunder… and Lucius exploded in a cloud of dust.

  My shriek matched the juel’vuermua’di’s own.

  What is there to say, to feel, when you watch a friend, one you had hoped to spend a lifetime with, meet an unfortunate, tragic end?

  How was I supposed to react when a part of the Uërth that been here at least since the planet’s birth died?

  What was I supposed to do when a partner in my destiny met his end?

  Though I knew that I was about to meet a similar fate with my heart shattered, I would at least face the dragon killer with one last shout of defiance.

  The Uërth cried out before I voiced my own, its scream not what I had expected.

  For its voice was Lucius’.

  The tears of rage and loss that had been burning my eyes and runneling over my cheeks turned to those of joy.

  The cloud of dust erupting from between the dragon killer’s horrendous fingers took form, mute flakes of earth, spirit unbroken by catastrophe.

  No longer a single point, Lucius became a swarm.

  Not trying to fight the demon strength against strength, for that was a battle he would lose, Lucius instead ignored his opponent and flew into every open orifice he could find.

  Making others where there were none.

  Once more, though I could see but the faintest blur, I knew exactly what was happening, for Lucius fought the demon from within, the song of the earth echoing stridently through that of the demon.

  Finally its thrashing stilled, and the juel’vuermua’di fell to the earth, slain by motes of dust.

  Even through the sidhe shield, the impact of the beast’s crash knocked me off my feet.

  When the dust finally settled, the demon’s corpse spread from one slope to the other, bisecting the valley.

  A wasteland lay in its wake.

  Dust himself, I could not see Lucius, but I could still hear his song.

  Lucius came to me then, fine specks of dirt and rock settling atop the outstretched palms of my hands.

  Had this battle happened in the Abyss, where the demon would have been at full strength, there surely would have been a different outcome.

  I made sure not to mention this to Lucius, for I knew his denial would be as strong as his spirit.

  Since I could not give Lucius the hug I so longed to bestow, I cradled his fragments in my hands instead.

  As I held him lovingly in my hands, my tears washed over him, slowly turning Lucius to mud as I sang to both him and the living water in my palms, helping mold him anew.

  My breath, my words, my life given to my friend.

  Aftermath

  Its energies spent from keeping me whole in the tumultuous battle, my sidhe staff lay lifeless, strapped across my back. I would have to sing it back to life, resto
ring its vivacity so that I would not be largely defenseless in the journey to come.

  With any luck, the rune staff’s services would remain unneeded until I had made it whole.

  The valley was sheer desolation around us. Scorched, pitted, and warped, the landscape appeared to have been tilled by some mad, frenetic giant, set on fire with a twisted menagerie of arcane flames, and then abandoned with no further plans for the future or concerns for the damage.

  The valley’s song was shattered, broken into thousands upon thousands of shards, its voice muted and in disarray.

  Despite all this, the valley would be reborn in time.

  What exactly would be birthed from this madness, however, was anyone’s guess.

  There was no time for lingering, for to tarry risked encountering more demons.

  So, shouldering my pack and scrambling though the wreckage as best I was able, my movements enhanced by a simple repeating refrain increasing my physical prowess, one that invigorated me from within, I navigated the tangled way ahead. While threading my way forward, I encompassed the valley in the same song of healing that I wrapped around and within Lucius and my staff.

  With words of restoration on my lips, we left the benighted vale for one whose night had passed.

  Noema’jin was but days away.

  Noema’dar

  Luecaeus drifted beside Noema’dar serenely.

  Amazingly, though his physical crystallization lay shattered, slowly mending from its disintegration, his longruen remained intact.

  Though she might feel otherwise, though she might not recognize this integrity, his fundamental coherence was largely due to Noema’dar.

  Without the enfolding layers of her song, the juel’vuermua’di would have torn his soul asunder just as it had his physical manifestation.

  He was alive because of her.

  This fragile, sloshing saline vessel, a swirling biocomposite of countless minuscule organisms swimming within a mobile sea of life, one so readily ruptured or squashed, had survived an infernal hurricane that had torn a portion of his homeland apart. All the while, the mua’di of her words had held him together, preventing his dissolution.

  That so much could be held within so little was the greatest of miracles.

  He was eternally grateful to all the guraem who called him hun’zar, to those who joined in common purpose and became wera’dun.

  For they saved him far more than he ever saved them.

  And this one in particular.

  In Sight

  After two hard days of bouldering and climbing, our trek through the ruined valley was at an end.

  I had more bruises and scratches across my arms, legs, and torso than a dragon had scales.

  The stream with its subtle refrain was now gone, along with most of the vibrant life that had once brimmed in the valley, though their bright memory lingered. After this peak, we would climb down into yet another vale, leaving behind the valley first abandoned by elementals and then laid to waste by the juel’vuermua’di.

  Lucius assured me we were within an easy jaunt of Noema’jin.

  At least that was Lucius’ promise.

  I knew otherwise, for, though I felt the fullness of Noemajin’s song, I sensed it was anything but close.

  And travel through the Dragon’s Teeth was seldom easy.

  Lucius was using the perceived nearness of our destination as an enticement to keep me moving forward, as I was prone to getting lost in the unending opuses and fugues of the moment.

  Life, with all its music, was a rather strong draw for someone who had grown up in a cave.

  Even when it was under constant threat.

  Or nearly obliterated.

  When we camped at day’s end, it was under the open sky. Without the rune staff’s greater protections, I cloaked us in words of refuge and hiding that would abide through the night.

  Until the staff was restored, I was unable to easily contact Mistress Alyendra. Though she might be worried, at least I knew everyone was well.

  She would have seen everything until the rune staff’s crystal went quiet.

  That, at least, would provide some reassurance.

  And her song was always with me.

  While I prepared for sleep, Lucius took watch beside me, his orbit as sure as our planet’s about the sun.

  “Do you anticipate more excitement tomorrow?”

  I read his response simply, without need for words.

  Every day was filled with excitement.

  Whether the excitement was something we desired was an entirely different matter.

  I nodded tiredly, ready for rest.

  Lucius’ sentiment rang true.

  Before I lay down, as ready for sleep as I was, I added self-sustaining wards about our position that would persist through the night, notes that would guard us against extradimensional attack and detection.

  The time for rest had come.

  I could put it off no longer.

  “Good night, Lucius.”

  Exhausted, emotionally and physically, I lay down to a slumber as deep and dreamless as the stars.

  I awoke to a slight nudge, the softest of movements.

  Though Lucius made no sound, I could sense his wariness.

  We were not alone.

  And we were not in the best of conditions for another conflict.

  Somewhere beyond the camp’s periphery, outside the diaphanous wards I had managed to protect and hide us, unholy beings skulked, their presence dissonant, concussive blasts waylaying the land’s underlying music while it still suffered from past atrocities.

  Within this cacophony, there were quite a few infernals lurking beneath the protective shadows of darkness.

  They moved together in a coordinated fashion, hunting.

  Whether we were their targets or just unfortunately near their path, I could not say.

  I only hoped my protective notes held.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  I could answer my own question to some extent, but I wanted Lucius’ assessment as well.

  As best I could discern, the hulking presence of a massive brute, the thing’s soul a dirge extolling the glories of blood, gore, and turmoil, the very heart of treachery and twisted conflicts, was lumbering agilely amongst the gloom. Joining this greater demon in a flock, other infernal entities were lurking. No less vile than the greater demon, these lesser demons did not represent the same order of power as the fell creature that had drawn them into its entropic orbit. Cloaked in vile magics and corrupted sigils, these other infernals added a frantic chorus of madness to the larger, more powerful demon’s own tremendous roar.

  Lucius’ essence sang softly, muted lest it draw any attention from the interlopers. “The juel’dara are a war party, a death clan.

  “These essence devourers seek to wreak as much havoc and destruction as they conceivably can, consuming and perverting as many souls as possible to fuel their madness.”

  Based on what I felt of the demons, I did not disagree with Lucius’ assessment.

  “They grow near.”

  Within moments, as if summoned by Lucius’ intent, the pack emerged from the enfolding darkness.

  I swallowed the scream that involuntarily leapt to my throat.

  The demons were a true pack, moving in well-coordinated unison, scouring the night air systematically, assessing carefully as they moved.

  At the center of the group, dwarfing some of the nearby trees, its mass somehow pulling space inward toward itself, a massive humanoid infernal loped through the wood, the silent motion of a creature this large as strikingly wrong as anything else about it. Thickly limbed, cloaked in writhing black flames, with two great gnarled horns curving from its twisted, fanged visage, the infernal carried a blood-wrought, soul-drinking blade in one hand that was easily the size of a huge polearm. Large, leathery wings folded against the juel’dara’s back were visible above its broad shoulders, while a spear-tipped, serrated tail whipped back and forth behi
nd it, moving erratically with a will of its own.

  Swarming about the greater demon’s cloven feet, flies buzzing around a bloated, diseased carcass, a teeming, grotesque group of imp-like goblinoids skittered, their motions not quite in time with normal reality, for they seemed to warp and skip with each step, mostly present in this realm but not completely. Wreathed entirely in different shades and hues of arcana, noxious clouds of perverted spells and twisted curses, these lesser demons were arrayed for battle in fell armors and tattered, light-drinking cloaks. Roughly the size of men, these hellions brandished swords and axes like flags waving in an invisible wind. Like the greater demon, they, too, were entirely silent.

  Dripping a putrid black mucus-like secretion, the lead goblinoid’s nostrils flared and snorted, drinking in the still night air hungrily.

  It was not our magic that the demons tasted.

  They were tracking us by smell.

  I prepared myself for combat, for there would be no avoiding the demons.

  Although my staff had not yet completely recovered from its ordeal, the sidhe weapon would serve well enough to channel and augment my own magics.

  I sensed Lucius gathering himself as well.

  He would attack before the demons realized we were here, seizing the element of surprise before they ferreted out our location.

  Before Lucius made his move, I quickly surveyed the surroundings, checking for more demons in the distance. Though we might be ready for this group, I wanted to be prepared should more arrive.

  Beyond this pack, the night remained calm, untouched by the discord of further demons, though the land was thick with the residuals of their taint.

  As ready as I would ever be, I gave Lucius a slight nod as I began a weave of chants to ward us from demonic magics, lessen the impacts of physical blows, speed our movements, and improve our coordination.

  I say we, but mostly these spells were for me.

  Lucius needed little in the way of such enchantments.

  When he sensed that I was finally ready, the demons drawing inexorably nearer but not having yet found us out, Lucius burst forth from my aegis, his motions quicker than I could follow.