Saedeus added, “We swim in a veritable sea of bliss.
“So long as no one is talking.
“Then I come to miss the bliss.
“And there are quite a lot of essences in here, so there’s a bit more exchange—it’s not exactly conversation—than you might expect.
“If one were to expect much of anything from an Angel Sword. Most especially large social gatherings inside one.”
That was…interesting. I was glad to hear that I would not be an imposition on my new companions in the days ahead while I was asleep.
If not needed, I, too, would fade into the background.
Or, rather, I would disappear from their context as they did from mine.
While I pondered the subtleties of this unusual relationship over a bowl of gruel, Lucius merged his deep song with that of the valley, rejoining his elemental companions and helping in their labors.
My labors over the pot done, I cleaned up, packed my bag, and waited for Lucius’ return.
Unless he had something else for us to do in the valley, I was ready to be off.
Noema’jin was a wonderful place, full of energy and the richness of life’s fullest expression.
But I wanted to share this dynamism, this wondrous prospect of life’s unfolding expression, with the world at large. I wanted the whole world to be granted a similar opportunity.
Staying here would not help me realize this dream for everywhere else, especially in those places that most needed it.
But Lucius was slow in returning, so I waited.
I held the Angel Sword aloft lovingly, its liquid extent more like solidified light than a blade, no matter how august.
I could see that resisting the urge to get lost in the sword’s wonders would be as great a challenge as overcoming any demons that hindered our progress.
But at least here, in the safety of Noema’jin, I could study its secrets, revel in its intricacies, and marvel at its capacities.
As long as Lucius tarried.
“Do you know how to use a blade?”
Or maybe not.
The voice came from within Loer’allon. The shape and feel of its speaker told me that it was Saedeus who posed the question, though I was sure in many ways that Loer’allon already knew the answer. The question itself was more an act of civility.
“I am familiar with a blade, though most of my practice was with a staff.”
This was something of an understatement. Mistress Alyendra had drilled me in the use of many potential weapons, ranging from my voice to my hands. While my voice was my principal means of defense, the staff, and then the sword, were close seconds.
“Loer’allon is not like other blades. You must give yourself to her, for she will guide your actions far more ably than you ever could. The better you are at letting yourself go, the more adept you will be with Loer’allon.”
I could sense Saedeus’s smile as he continued, “Trying to wield Loer’allon certainly is a unique experience. In truth, she wields you. And the better you can be wielded, the more effective you will be.”
That too was interesting.
I had never heard this about Angel Swords.
But there was a great deal I had not heard or learned about many things.
And not all Angel Swords were necessarily the same. Neither did this mean that a given Angel Sword behaved the same with all wielders.
I would just need to see.
“Would you like to try?”
Who would not?
“Yes!”
Rocks lifted from the ground around me, from small pebbles to fist-sized stones. These rocks held position while I lifted the blade and made ready.
“The more in tune with Loer’allon you become, the greater will be your facility. Relax and follow her lead.”
Like a dance.
I could dance.
I had spent my entire life dancing, for dancing was an integral part of learning to use one’s Voice.
“Do your best to keep your balance centered and your feet beneath you wherever Loer’allon takes you. That will put you in the best position to continue your motions naturally and effectively in continuous, effective flow.”
I took a deep breath and relaxed, giving myself permission to get out of my way.
“Ready?”
I gave a brief nod.
The rocks began to bob and weave around me, an orbit of earthen menace.
Unable to fully track all the movement of the rocks, for many moved out of my line of sight, I fell out of myself, not thinking or anticipating, just following Loer’allon’s lead.
She was weightless in my hands, a bit of sunshine gripped in my palm. But I could feel the direction of her intent nonetheless.
And I followed.
I skipped over rocks, ducked under arcing missiles, and sliced through whizzing stones.
The rocks presented no resistance to her blade, slicing through unimpeded and unslowed.
No matter how fast she moved, Loer’allon was silent. Only the sounds of my exertions, my footfalls, marred the silence of our practice.
More and more stones rose from the ground, coming faster and faster.
I leapt and twirled, twisted and ducked as Loer’allon’s voice became more and more clear, our dance more in tune.
And more stones fell apart.
I do not know how long we practiced, only that eventually I faltered, slipping to the ground, anticipating being pelted by stones.
They never came.
Loer’allon still danced in my hands even when I did not.
Exhausted, I stood, the rocks returning to ground.
Saedeus laughed, his voice filled with unanticipated joy. “Marvelous! You certainly put my paltry first attempts to shame!”
I would have smiled, but I was too tired.
I did manage to lift the corners of my mouth slightly.
I think.
I set Loer’allon’s luminescent blade on the ground and lay down beside her.
We had both earned a rest.
Companions
Lucius did not arrive alone.
Arrayed behind him was an entire contingent of animated minerals and jewels, ranging from a towering granitic obelisk to iridescent gems.
After his arrival, with the aid of a minor tune, Lucius’ intent was clear. “Though their tasks are many, the risks grave, and their allies too few, these el’amin wish to join us on our quest.
“I cannot deny them their request, for they have earned their destinies by freely offering their assistance.
“Noema’jin remains unsullied today thanks to their efforts, along with so many others’.
“After the battle at Noema’jin, the emissaries to Kerraboer were sent, otherwise more el’amin would join us on our journey.
“The lands between Noema’jin and Kerraboer are thick with juel’dara, but we remaining el’amin are too few to meet all needs, no matter how grave.
“These volunteers are all that could be spared for the time being.”
Despite Lucius’ words to the contrary, I was impressed.
I had never seen such an august assemblage and was thankful for any who offered to help my cause, whether many or few.
The el’amins’ songs were a noble gathering—all the landforms of the earth joined together in unified representation. The deep chords of subterranean movements, the almost imperceptibly silent drips of slow precipitation, the growth and intricate formations of crystallization, the slow passage of time counted in the shifts and permutations of weathering, the violent upheavals of geologic change, among many others, all blended together in a majestic mosaic expressing Uërth’s wonders.
That the elementals were here, at least in part for me, was overwhelming and more than a bit humbling.
I did not warrant such attention.
But, like Lucius, it was not my place to deny the elementals their choice.
And for that choice, I was thankful.
Standing before the arrayed
elementals, a mere mortal of but a few short years in the presence of entities that might have known Uërth’s formation, I felt all the younger and more inexperienced.
Simultaneously, I felt all the more alive and capable. If these beings, forces of nature incarnate, felt my worth, or at least the worth in my cause, was that not amazing?
Beyond expectation?
As humbled and excited as I was, I was also invigorated, for their cause, at least for the time being, was mine. Which, because of who and what they were, made the significance of my cause, the need to help renew and restore the Uërth, seem all the greater.
I was as happy as I was touched by their presence.
I offered a respectful bow to the el’amin as I began to sing.
I did not sing my name, for Ilya was not who I was. It was merely a convenient symbol, a representation.
I did not sing of what I wanted or hoped would come from our time together, for that purpose and its means to realization were represented by the very presence of the el’amin and our journey together.
Instead, I sang of who I was, what held meaning for me, what my passions were, what motivated me, and what I felt and thought as a human being.
I sang of my life and my dreams, of my confidences and despairs.
I sang of home and the heart, of hope and its undermining.
I sang of family and loss, of fears and necessity.
I sang of choices and opportunities, of paths taken and ways lost.
I sang of life and its fragility, its importance, and why I would see it flower once more.
As my words finally settled, the resonance of their magic echoing across Noema’jin in a quieting tide, the elementals remained arrayed before me in a timeless tableau, poised between moments.
In reply, after some time spent in complete stillness, perhaps while the el’amin let the final meanings and tones settle within, the great obelisk began to sing, or rather, weave its essence in a way that moved like a song, telling of its words and deeds. Others joined in, the weavings of their essences creating a mosaic of energetic story that filled Noema’jin with a timeless majesty and eternal purpose.
The tears rolling down my cheeks did not do justice to the unfolding of their spirits.
But it did let me share a little of mine with theirs.
Closer than I would have expected, we began our journey together with a deep sense of who and what we each were, united in resolve as well as understanding.
Though I might be the least of them, after experiencing the elementals’ sharing of themselves, I liked to think my heart soared the highest.
The Road Ahead
For the first time since leaving Kun’Daer while traveling through the wilds, I felt safe.
Having an escort of el’amin will do wonders for one’s confidence.
I rode atop Goer’naq, a massive, flattened granitic el’amin. Covered in splotches of variform lichens and mineral inclusions, his dome a gentle rounded shelf with a relatively flat bottom, Goer’naq resembled a gigantic turtle summoned from some myth that had only recently arisen from the depths of imagination.
Aside from offering a comfortable ride, given his imposing size and structure, Goer’naq also seemed entirely capable of smashing demons as well as anyone.
In the journey ahead, I hoped we never had to put my theory to the test.
I had already seen enough violence, and my journey was far from over.
I wore Loer’allon at my side, having pulled a suitable belt from my pack. Although loath to do it, for it felt like parting with an old friend, in exchange, I placed the rune staff within the pack, where it would be ready should I have need.
Lucius floated beside me as we drifted above the rocky terrain surrounded by the rest of the el’amin. Lucius was my constant companion and guard even while I was guarded by others. His consistency never wavered.
The sheer peak guarding Noema’jin to the north was especially steep—gnarled rocks protruded from treacherous overhangs, windswept trees clung to vertiginous cliffs, and not a single footpath dared cross its slopes. Without the elementals, I would have spent much of the day climbing.
Given the difficulty of the terrain, I appreciated my perch, for I feared that I would have slowed the group down significantly if I were forced to travel on my own even aided by my song.
From my spot on Goer’naq’s cool back, I took in the valley one last time before we departed. From the fog-enshrouded rift of Noema’jin to the regions lost in the wavering haze of distance, the heart of the elementals’ homeland was filled with activity—many lives working together to repair the damage done, the desecration that had nearly spelled their end. Purpose filled the valley, the varied songs blending together to create one of unified purpose and intent. Low and steady, the elementals’ music paced their work, helping them envision and create what was to be.
Given the grandeur of the valley, from its ancient groves to its beautiful geologic formations, the horrific scars left by the demonic assault were all the more troubling.
As sad and devastated as the elementals’ valley was, most of the rest of Uërth was far worse.
It was into this world that we would soon venture.
“Are any of the Ways available to take us to Kerraboer?”
There had been a time before the demons came when people across the distant reaches of the Uërth could venture far and wide via the Ways, shimmering portals that granted access to Uërth’s most remote locales.
At one time, there had been one such portal between Noema’jin and Kerraboer.
Lucius rotated about his central axis, indicating no, just as I had thought. “The Ways are closed. Sealed perhaps forevermore.
“The portals could not be kept active with demons loose in the realm, for having them open and potentially accessible to juel’dara would have been far more dangerous than any benefit the Ways might have offered.”
“I had only thought that the one connecting Noema’jin and Kerraboer might have remained open, since both fastnesses withstood the invaders for so long.”
Lucius did not agree. “What if one fell to the juel’dara? If the Ways were open, the other place would surely have fallen as well.”
So, walking it was…all the way to Kerraboer.
At least I had the option to float most of the way.
“I am very impressed.”
The words came through to me from Loer’allon, Saedeus’s thoughts becoming mine.
“Why?”
There was much to be impressed by in the Dragon’s Teeth. The soaring peaks, unbowed by time; the animate earthen spirits, their songs as broad and encompassing as the sky; the deep forests filled with ancient magics; and the persistence of beauty and wonder even under lifetimes of demonic assault were all inspiring.
But I did not know exactly what among these and many other points of potential inspiration was impressing him.
“With you.”
Me?
What was impressive about me?
I was the least of many possible points of interest, let alone a subject worthy of such vaunted consideration.
“Why?”
My original question held.
I resisted the urge to be flattered.
“You are beginning your journey where mine ended.”
He paused a moment before adding, “You are unafraid.”
I held my laughter.
I was afraid all the time.
Who wouldn’t be, in a world overrun by demons?
My thoughts not entirely my own, he added, “I am not joking.
“I would add that this is not typical…me not joking.”
A smile lit my face as I replied internally, “Nor am I. But I do find humor in your words. I am constantly afraid.
“When I left Kun’Daer, I made a Choice. I Chose my destiny, my purpose. This Choice is the central focus of my life, my reason to move forward each day in the face of a world filled with madness.
“I am committed to my purpos
e, for I wish for Uërth to be whole once more.
“This goal empowers me to move onward, regardless of how I may feel. This aim is bigger than me and far more important.”
Saedeus replied reassuringly, “And that, Ilya, is the very definition of bravery—doing what you feel is right no matter what dangers you may face.
“That is exactly how your quest began and how it continues...in bravery.”
I did not have the heart to tell Saedeus that he was no different, regardless of how he might feel.
Or think.
Some illusions cannot be dispelled.
Over the Ridge and Through the Dell
I wish I could say that the journey to Kerraboer was spent idly floating upon Goer’naq’s placid back, lazing away the hours in meaningful conversation, my song enriching the lands through which we crossed.
But that would be far from the truth.
The truth was far different and far less pleasant.
Nightmares descended from the sky.
If the black gulf between the stars had been given life, cut off from the swath of infinite darkness to descend to Uërth seeking light, life and heat, then the juel’dara that fell upon us in a writhing swarm might have met their pale shadow. These things were far worse.
The demons were so dark, I could have seen them clearly against a moonless night sky.
Thankfully, I had a pale gray sky to see the monstrosities against.
If that same pitch-darkness had been cut off from its moorings and given an insatiable hunger, a desire to consume all living things, then those infernals might have been but the sallow reflections of these starving monstrosities.
I was in no mood to be demon food.
Thankfully, neither were my companions.
“This is when you draw your sword.” Saedeus’s words were a clarion call ringing through my mind.
Echoing his sentiment, Maeraeth added, “I think the man knows what he’s talking about. You’d best listen.”
I was not about to argue.
I did not have time.
Or reason.
Legacy of the Blade: The Complete Trilogy Page 47