Soul of the Blade

by Brenda J. Pierson

  They were three of the finest fighters Aeo had ever known, but he knew a hopeless cause when he saw one. This monstrosity was too big, too powerful. Even with their enchanted weapons, there was no way they could do more than sting the creature.

  He had to get closer, into the heart of this tendril-beast.

  Aeo summoned every bit of speed he could muster and flung himself forward. He batted away the tendrils in his path, savoring the hiss of seared Entana flesh.

  He ducked and wove through the maze of tendrils. He sprinted through every opening he could see, working his way ever closer to the heart. The Entana flailed and swung tendrils at him from every which way. They battered him and sent him skidding along the obsidian floor or rolling forward from the impact. His momentum never stopped, even as stars swam in his vision and his body screamed with pain and bruises. The Entana would beat him to a pulp before long, but he continued to bull his way forward.

  He could feel the Entana’s darkness poisoning the air. It scorched his lungs and left an itchy burn on his skin. The Bok’Tarong’s instinctive hatred blazed brighter and hotter than ever before. Its power shielded him from the worst of the attacks—the Entana could not abide the touch of his enchanted spirit for long.

  A tentacle swooped in from the side and cuffed him across the head. He was staggered long enough for one of the massive tendrils to wrap around him, imprisoning him in oily Entana flesh. The tendril sizzled where it touched his aura, but it didn’t let go.

  Other tendrils reached up to smack Aeo, hitting him so hard his head rang with the impacts. Bits of his confidence were ripped away with each hit, just like when the Entana had attacked Dragana’s spirit so long ago. Only this time, he couldn’t rip free from the blades to defend himself.

  He tried to struggle, but the helplessness pervading his system was too much and the Entana’s grip was too strong. He could only watch as smaller tendrils erupted from the giant tentacle with juicy pops. They snaked toward Aeo, as if tasting the air, before touching his head. They paused there, smoke rising and ash falling, Aeo cringing with the contact. Then they plunged forward, burrowing their way deep into Aeo’s skull.

  Aeo screamed. This wasn’t the kind of everyday agony he’d felt when he’d run himself through with a sword, or when Sunray had sapped his magic. This was deeper. More intimate— a white-hot poker stuck into his soul, foot-long talons gouging out chunks of his being. The Entana was unmaking him.

  The Entana was -taking him.

  You can’t do this to me! his mind screamed. I’m the Master of the Bok’Tarong!

  Oily smoke rose from the tendrils in Aeo’s head. They burrowed deeper as the magic mingled with Aeo’s soul burned them away. He barely held on to consciousness.

  You are in the heart of my power, the Entana replied. And my power is so much stronger than the feeble Bok’Tarong.

  But Aeo could feel the Entana’s hesitation. It wasn’t sure it could -take him.

  Several more tendrils stabbed into Aeo’s brain. He was choking on oily smoke, his vision going black. For a moment he forgot where he was, what he was doing. There was just agony and confusion. Surrender sounded so wonderful, if only to be free from the pain.

  Aeo was still screaming. The Entana was squealing. And far, far away, Dragana was shouting and swearing in Taronese.

  That sound brought him back. It gave him the resolve to fight. He couldn’t let Dragana—his Dragana—down. She’d devoted her entire life to beating the Entana. Even now, she was fighting this monstrosity while her arm was becoming a block of ice. He knew beyond doubt she was fighting through the tendrils to reach him. And she wouldn’t stop until either she or the Entana was dead. That’s just the way she was. Noble, fierce, stubborn. A warrior.

  He couldn’t give up on her. He had to keep fighting, to use his power to destroy the parasite. He had to make her proud.

  Aeo channeled what power he could muster into the Bok’Tarong. He couldn’t see the blades through the tendril imprisoning him, but he felt the moment they began to glow. The magic pulsed through him, and the Entana shrieked. The tendrils in his head retreated, popping from his head like corks from a bottle. The pain was almost more terrible than when they’d burrowed in. The tendril unraveled and flung Aeo away, just as he would fling away a biting insect.

  His landing could have been worse. He stood, covered in ash from the disintegrated tendril. He ached from head to toe and his muscles were watery, but he was otherwise unhurt.

  He’d have loved to take a moment to breathe, gather his strength, but the Entana had other plans. Already tendrils descended on him. Even more were coming at him from either side.

  There was nowhere to go. No way to get close enough to the heart.

  A sour feeling seeped through Aeo. Despair and regret mingled with fear and anger. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to this last, desperate plan, but there were no more choices left.

  He looked left, where Raeb battled the Entana even though he’d lost nearly all of his memories. He glanced to his right, where Dragana still fought though her arm was frozen solid. His friends were making horrible sacrifices to defeat the Entana. The least he could do was put in the same effort.

  Last, he looked down at the Bok’Tarong. It was as much a part of him as his own soul. They were one and the same now. And though his heart ached and tears burned his throat, he knew what he had to do.

  He might not be able to get to the heart of this Entana, but maybe he could get the deadly light of the Bok’Tarong there.

  Aeo pushed away his despair and clung to the hope defeating the Entana would give him. He fought his way to Dragana’s side, all the while building up the strength he’d need for this last battle.

  He couldn’t spare a moment to explain his plan to her. He just hoped she would understand. “Cover me,” he called, stepping back to remove himself from the fight as best he could.

  Dragana didn’t pause in her attacks. She simply stepped in from of him, fighting like a master to protect him. His Dragana.

  Aeo took a deep breath. It was time. Whether or not he was ready, it was time.

  Another breath. He’d make himself ready.

  He raised the Bok’Tarong before him, channeling all the strength he could muster into the blade. Its glow brightened, blindingly so.

  Dragana glanced behind her. That instant nearly cost her, as a tendril shot down at her head. She rolled aside at the last moment, slicing Sunray into its flesh as it impacted the ground beside her. “Aeo, what are you doing? That almost killed you last time.”

  “What choice do we have?”

  She fought off another three tendrils, then threw another glance back at him. Her face was set in a warrior’s grimace, tears leaving clear tracks in the oily ash covering her face. Even in here—especially in here, the spirit world—she radiated beauty that had nothing to do with her body. Strength and gentleness, stubbornness and grace. Gods, she was beautiful.

  They had only a heartbeat to meet each other’s eyes, but whatever she saw in him dried her tears. She nodded, whether in a grant of permission or a wish of luck he didn’t know, then returned to defending him against the Entana.

  The Bok’Tarong radiated magic and light. Aeo felt its power thrumming through his entire being. He summoned all his energy and gave it to the blades, willing them to become the instrument of destruction they were born to be.

  The Bok’Tarong’s light pulsed in time with his heartbeat. With each beat he poured more of himself into the blades, and they responded by brightening even further. He was holding blades that glowed like rosy gold suns, warming the soul with their righteous power.

  The Entana shrunk back from the radiance. It tried to lash at him, but any tendril that entered the Bok’Tarong’s light evaporated with a hiss of oily smoke and a faint squeal.

  But it wasn’t enough. Aeo could destroy tendrils for the next hundred years and still lose this battle to the beast itself.

  [We need more power,] the blades said
. [With more strength, we may be able to kill this thing.]

  Where am I supposed to get more strength? I’m giving you everything I’ve got.

  [Your spirit is not the only resource at your disposal.]

  Aeo knew what the Bok’Tarong meant. He could sense his companions beside him—not just their presence, but their lives. He could touch them. Take from them.

  Damn it. I can’t do that to them.

  But he was out of options.

  He turned his head to the left, where Raeb still battled. “Raeb, do you trust me?”

  “I may not have many memories left,” he called back, panting, “but I remember two things: I probably shouldn’t trust you. And yet I do.”

  Aeo smirked. “Dragana?”

  She didn’t let him finish the question. “With my heart, and my life. I trust you, Aeo.”

  His smirk turned to a heartfelt grin. “Then, my friends, I need some more strength.”

  “It’s yours,” Dragana said. “However much I have.”

  “Mine too. Whatever you need to kill these bastards. Take it.”

  Aeo centered his concentration, then reached out to the Bok’Tarong in Raeb’s hands. He could feel the power of that other sacred blade, and through it the strength and life of Raeb. The man’s hatred of the Entana surpassed even his own. It was a great source of power, and Aeo grabbed onto it and pulled.

  Raeb grunted, but didn’t otherwise object. His Bok’Tarong began to glow, too, far fainter than its twin.

  Raeb’s life-force raged through his blood like ice and fire and power. It made Aeo feel dizzy and invincible like his first intoxication, contented and impassioned like his first time making love. The strength of Raeb’s raw energy was enough to make Aeo feel like he was bursting with life, and he poured that power into the Bok’Tarong before he burst. His blades flared with so much light, they were blinding even through closed eyes.

  The Entana monstrosity growled and squealed. The sound was so deep, so loud, it shook every bone in his body.

  [Almost enough.]

  He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to do this, but they didn’t have a choice. They needed a little more power before Aeo was ready.

  Reluctantly, he reached through the connection of Dragana’s spirit carving. He felt her there, bound to him body and soul. Hatred, fear, pain, and love governed her emotions. Each was so potent Aeo couldn’t understand how she could handle all of them at once.

  The power he’d pulled from Raeb’s hatred of the Entana had made the Bok’Tarong in his hands flare like fire. The depth of Dragana’s love made it burst into flames and burn with the intensity of an exploding sun.

  Aeo channeled all this and more into the Bok’Tarong, until his entire body burned with light and power and energy. The Bok’Tarong trembled in his rock-steady hands. The blades vibrated with power.

  [We’re ready.]

  Aeo was so consumed by the power he almost didn’t hear the blades. He took a deep breath, let it out. He narrowed his focus to pour all the energy from his body, and from his friends’, into the Bok’Tarong. Strength drained from his limbs, as his energy was siphoned from his body. He felt hollow and empty without it, but the blades grew full and hummed with life. They burned with righteous fury.

  He lifted his arms higher, above his head, bringing the blades behind him. He planted his feet and arched his back. One more deep breath, once more gathering his energy.

  [Goodbye,] the blades whispered. There was such finality to the statement Aeo choked back tears.

  “Goodbye,” he replied.

  With every bit of strength in his body, he launched the Bok’Tarong at the Entana.

  The blades were a rosy gold comet hurtling toward its goal. Its light filled the cavernous room, reflecting and redoubling off the polished obsidian surfaces. The Entana shrieked like steam escaping a kettle. It was the sound of pure, unadulterated terror.

  The light pierced the darkness. For a second Aeo watched as the Bok’Tarong glowed from the midst of the oily black Entana tendrils.

  Then the light exploded, throwing sun-bright flames in every direction. The darkness shattered, blasting shards like black crystal into the air. They showered Aeo and his friends like an oily, glassy rain. Several of them cut long gashes in his skin, but Aeo was numb. He grew weaker by the second. His muscles were shaky, his eyes so heavy he could barely keep them open. The world around him was becoming more distant and unimportant by the second. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, and maybe to never wake again. It was just too hard to stay up, keep moving, continue living.

  With a final, deafening squeal, what was left of the massive Entana evaporated into smoke. The light at its heart flared once more, then winked out. Nothing was left in its place.

  The Bok’Tarong was gone. The Entana was destroyed.

  Aeo lost consciousness before his head hit the ground.

  35

  Raeb was weak, so very weak after Aeo had channeled his life-force into the Bok’Tarong. He could barely muster the strength to lift his head enough to check that the others were breathing.

  The room was dissolving around him. Without the hive-mind, the Entana were dead. There was nothing to root them in the spirit world. They were gone, and their hive was evaporating along with them.

  The Entana had been right about one thing. There was no way he could have made it out of here alive. But he was at peace with that. The Entana were dead, and his mind … it felt so free. There was nothing lurking in the shadows, no presence in his subconscious waiting for the moment it would be allowed to consume his memories.

  He was no longer burdened with the darkness of the Entana. He felt as light as the fires of the Bok’Tarong, as if he could fly with the same speed those blades had flown to destroy his slave-master.

  This was a good way to die, he decided.

  He could see stars through the floor. The shininess of the walls was dissipating into galaxies and solar systems. The darkness of the obsidian was the blackness of space. He saw all this and understood it in ways he’d never thought possible. This was the spirit realm, where he would spend eternity as a wandering soul.

  But a wandering soul was free, subject to no one. It was a good way to die.

  There was a light, somewhere far off. It wasn’t a star. It was too bright for that, and its shape was too complicated. It wasn’t the glow of the Bok’Tarong, either. That was gone. But this light was just as warm, just as full of life. The shape tickled something in his mind, a weak recognition of the sigil. It called to him, beckoning him to it.

  It called his name.

  He lifted his head. The light was there, but so far away. He could never make it that far. His spirit was too weak.

  But she was calling to him, asking—demanding—that he return to her.

  That light had a name.

  Saydee.

  Memory lanced through his mind. He remembered. She’d remained behind, staying in the physical world to watch over their vacant bodies. She was a mage, who could see the strands of power that linked souls and anchors. She must have seen his link flicker, as he lost his connection with life. She was trying to stop that.

  He reached for Saydee’s light. Still it was too far away, and he was too weak.

  Her voice reminded him of the others. Dragana. Aeo. She was calling all of them. He had to bring them home, too.

  He reached out to his friends, expecting them to be too far as well. He grasped a spirit, as solid as flesh to him. Aeo.

  A hand came to rest on his. Dragana.

  He looked up into the woman’s eyes. They were as bright as the stars around them.

  She nodded to him.

  He nodded back.

  Together they drew on whatever strength they had left. It wasn’t much. Aeo had taken a lot to defeat the Entana.

  But Aeo had given the most. He’d sacrificed all of his strength to the Bok’Tarong. The least he could do was honor that and give his best to get them home.

  Raeb
found strength he didn’t know he’d had. He gathered his spirit together, holding onto Dragana’s and Aeo’s as well. Then he reached to Saydee’s light.

  We’re here, he called. Help us.

  Saydee’s light burned brighter, drew closer. Raeb reached for it.

  He caught it.

  Bring us home, Saydee.

  Aeo was weary to the depths of his soul, every nerve alive with pain like lightning. His muscles hurt so much he wondered if he’d ever be able to use them again.

  The lab looked blessedly mundane after the unnatural atmosphere of the Entana hive. He’d never been so happy to feel cold, hard, uncomfortable stone beneath him. Even the smell of stale blood was almost welcome.

  He reached up a hand, wiping it over his face, hoping he could wipe away his headache as easily.

  He opened his eyes. He didn’t dare believe it.

  Aeo wiggled his fingers. Wiggled his toes. Bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood. Scrubbed his hand through his hair, stretched his neck far enough it cracked.

  He sat up. Lying next to him was the Bok’Tarong, its blades dull and lifeless. Even as he watched the rosy gold began to tarnish, and a large crack crept down the length of the blades.

  A chill shot up Aeo’s spine. It was eerily similar to seeing his dead body lying beside him. He couldn’t bear the sight and turned away.

  Dragana.

  She sat beside him, staring as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. She made no move to approach him.

  He quirked a smile. “What? No kiss?”

  She leaned in and punched him. She didn’t pull it, either. It was a solid hit that flattened him to his back.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you,” she said. Her eyes glittered.

  “Just couldn’t wait to get your hands on me,” Aeo said, grinning. “I get it.”

  She punched him again, not quite as hard, then lay beside him. He wrapped her in his arms and she kissed him, fiercely.

  It was a moment too good to be true. He held Dragana in his arms, feeling her kiss, her body entwining with his. The bracer on his wrist was warm with passion. He was real, his body was real. Dragana was really here, really his.