The Legend of the Seven Sages: The Blade of Origin

by B. A. Scott

  “It’s been an eventful day,” said Faelia. “A few mishaps. Right, Kaven? But—”

  “But we’re not going to talk about those,” Kaven said abruptly.

  Faelia smiled. “Some bruises, but nothing fatal, thank goodness.”

  Kade knelt down to observe Kaven’s enchanted shield. It was clear he intended to use its handles, as well as an affixed rope, straps and braces to secure his footing.

  “This shield is steel with a wooden backing,” Kade said. “I see you’ve nailed rope into it. I need to teach you a bonding spell. Stronger than a hundred nails.”

  “That would have been helpful,” said Kaven. “Still, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you. Let me show you what I’ve done.” He put a hand on the hovering shield. “First, a reactionary hover charm, so it’ll stay with the ship. Nothing fancy. Now, when I blasted up into the sky the other night, I used memories and emotions of control, because I thought they would give me the most control over its movements. Like ordering a child to sit still. But it was all wrong.

  It obeyed, but reluctantly. It didn’t want to do what I asked it. So I knew I needed to use a different approach this time. But I didn’t want to use feelings of freedom and unrestraint either, otherwise it might have a mind of its own. So, rather than forcing it to do my bidding, I’ve imbued it with emotions of sympathy, kindness and love. Not control and submission. It sounds abhorrently sentimental, but I thought of all the times I wanted to help someone, because I cared about them. I thought about my wife,” he paused, “and how eager I was to oblige any favor, because I knew it would make her happy. This shield needs to ask me, ‘where would you like me to go?’ and readily accommodate what I ask, not command.”

  “That’s adorable,” Faelia said, “but it’s still not working.”

  “That’s been the tricky part,” Kaven said. “It’s taken a few attempts,” he noted the planks around him, “and a few bumps on the head, but I think the order of the enchantments is key. I finished it off with a fixed hover charm, so I can stand on it, and it doesn’t move, unless I ask it to. For some reason, layering the emotions last makes it more unpredictable. So this time, I’ve essentially wrapped them with hover charms, like a—like a babe between blankets.”

  “I’m anxious to see what happens,” Kade said.

  “Indeed, let’s see how many more bones we can break,” Faelia added.

  “Like I said, Kade,” Kaven said, “I couldn’t have gotten this far without you. I know these things have turned out a little wonky, to say the least, but,” he motioned to his side where a second tear-drop shield hovered, “I made two, just in case it works. They have the same enchantments. It’s yours, if you’d like to try.”

  “You want her to test that thing with you!?” Faelia exclaimed. “What if they explode? Or send shards of steel through your innards?”

  “I wouldn’t have gone through making a second one if I thought it would put you in danger,” Kaven said.

  “They’re too unpredictable Kaven,” Faelia said. “Just this morning one slammed into your gut. And another flipped you over on your head—while it was still attached to your feet, I might add.”

  “I feel like I’m really, really close on this one,” Kaven said. “Of course, you don’t have to. I just thought you might fancy a go. Any insight or advice you could give would help a lot.”

  For the briefest of moments, Kade weighed Kaven’s intentions. It had been a long time since she’d sensed any malevolence from him, and he’d never made such a kind gesture before. Does he truly offer this gift in gratitude, she wondered. Or could there still be some small part of him that doesn’t trust me, and this is a way for him to… She looked into Kaven’s eyes, and saw no trace of trickery or hatred. Her heart swelled, and she berated herself for even having the suspicion.

  “Kaven, I don’t know what I could offer that you haven’t already tried,” Kade said. “This is your project, and you already understand it so much better than I.”

  Kaven nodded, expecting the answer. “I just wanted to thank you for all you’ve done,” he said. “Look, never mind. You’re right, it’s too risky. I’ll test them myself.” He stood, pushed away the excess planks, and wedged his boot into the shield’s handles.

  “You might want to step back,” he said, tying down his other foot with straps and rope.

  Kade moved the second shield toward her and stood, securing her own boot.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Faelia scolded her.

  “Risking my life, it seems, for the sake of discovery,” Kade said, as if she were about to jump off a cliff into oblivion.

  “Oh no you are not,” said Faelia, “It’s my job to escort you to the Northlands in one piece! You do realize that if those things end up killing you, your mission ends here and now. Do you understand what you’re risking by stepping onto that maniacal contraption? This silly little experiment was, I admit, rather amusing at first, but it’s gone too far, and now—”

  Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

  Kaven smoothly rose five feet from the deck, and held his position, finding his balance.

  “And now…” Faelia couldn’t find the words to express her shock.

  Kaven steered his shield out over the water, and kept pace with the ship.

  “And now, Kaven’s flying,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Kaven looked to his feet. The ocean rushed beneath him. He knelt, grasping the shield for security. He pressed his foot harder in the handles, and tightened the rope, then rose again, once his confidence returned.

  Go up slowly, Kade thought, and her shield responded.

  “Dear god, be careful!” Faelia expressed.

  Kaven watched Kade ascend to the sails, cautious and wobbly in her stance. Forward, he thought, and his shield nearly raced ahead of him, like a carpet pulled quickly from underneath, but he regained control, then rode in a wide bank around the ship’s bow, testing how to position his body most effectively while riding.

  He circled around and met Kade, high above the deck.

  “Kaven,” Kade gasped his name.

  “Go slow,” Kaven told her, more excited than he could ever remember being. “Put your weight forward when you move. Helps if you bend your front knee a bit.”

  He guided Kade out to the water, and for a while, they maneuvered warily, like they were learning to ride a horse for the very first time. Every movement was unfamiliar, yet exciting, and with every discovery came an eagerness to attempt a new feat.

  They rose high into the air, and descended to skim the ocean’s waves. They banked, swirled in place, weaved between the ship’s sails, and nearly collided on more than one occasion. From the deck, Faelia grew ever amused at the sight of flailing arms, and the groans of awkward bodily contortions.

  Kaven was so focused on testing his shield, and learning its capabilities, that it wasn’t until Kade whizzed past him, laughing with pure delight, that he realized he’d fashioned something beyond practicality. It’s rather fun, he thought. His mindset changed, and he proceeded to ride the shield as though he were a child at heart.

  “It’s perfectly responsive,” Kade said. “To my thoughts, to pressure.” She sped past Kaven, moving much faster than he’d yet to dare. Inspired by her audacity, he raced to her side. The wind whipped through his hair, and his cloak blew frantically behind him.

  When he caught up to her, she looked to him with a smile he’d never seen from her before. There was a bit of Dareic in it.

  Faster, Kade thought, bending lower, and she raced playfully ahead. Kaven zoomed after her. They rode the wind, side by side, taking their shields down to just above the crashing waves, leaving trenches of mist behind them.

  Ahead, a ginormous wave crashed, and they soared through its spray, then rose into the air and slowed to a stop.

  “It’s marvelous,” Kade said, swerving to look back toward the Agile.

  “Where’s the ship?” Kaven asked. “We could be miles away.”
<
br />   “If we head back in that direction, we should be able to spot it. We should have worn Keen Masks. We could see to the horizon. And they would block the wind. Is it as brutal on your eyes as it is mine?”

  Kaven laughed. “Aye, I had to squint, and still, it sucked them dry.”

  “Kaven,” Kade said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it. This is—this is extraordinary. I can’t even begin to—”

  “There are still a few kinks to work out,” Kaven said. “My contentment cloak keeps pulling me backward. But if I take it off, I’ll know I’ll freeze. When we get to the Northlands and drink from their Fountain, we should make contentment… rings, or something. And the front of the shield cut through the wind better than the backside—like an arrowhead. I think I could carve something that works better.”

  “Never finished, are you?” Kade chuckled.

  They found their way back to the Agile, and glided slowly to the deck.

  “And lighter armor,” Faelia heard Kaven say. “Something more flexible. And handles running the length on both sides.”

  “For the banking and sharp turns,” Kade agreed. “And I kept wanting to adjust my feet, but they’re so constrained like this.”

  “I think I can reconfigure the straps—work with the handle—so we can freely change our stance.”

  “Dear heavens, your hair!” said Faelia, noticing Kaven and Kade’s wind-swept appearance. “You’ve look like you’ve been through a hurricane.”

  “What is your obsession with hair today?” Kade asked.

  “And thank you, by the way, for disappearing for so long, making me think you both dead. I thought you’d gone to the Northlands on your own for a moment. You could now, you realize?”

  Kaven stepped from his shield, and lifted it with pride and satisfaction.

  “They work,” he said. “But if a strap breaks loose, or we fall—I don’t trust it yet. We’ll keep our feet firmly planted here, for now.”

  “I can’t believe you did it,” said Faelia. “I simply can’t.”

  “Faelia, ink and parchment,” Kade spoke. “Do you have them?”

  “Yes?” said the Borean. “There’s a desk in my quarters.”

  “May we use it?”

  “Of course,” Faelia said.

  “Kaven, you need to write down everything,” Kade instructed as the Borean led them below deck. “Right now, every detail. Every nuance, thought, emotion, the order of your spells, the time you spent—everything—while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

  “Why?” Kaven asked.

  “So that others may do what you have done,” Kade answered. “Describe the emotions and memories you used in excruciating detail, no matter how personal. Other wielders will be able to draw upon their own similar experiences. The more descriptive, the better.”

  Kaven sat at Faelia’s desk. He took the quill as Faelia placed a single sheet of parchment in front of him. His thoughts swirled in his mind. There was so much to write, he thought. So many intricacies.

  “I’m going to need more parchment,” he said. Faelia tapped a nearby chest with her foot. “Thanks,” said Kaven.

  “We’ll leave you be to write,” Kade said as she and Faelia made for the door. Before she left, she paused to look back. Kaven was fully armored, squeezed into a writing desk with comically unruly hair, about to inscribe how to perform one of the most sought-after forms of magic ever theorized. She looked at him with pride, joy, and sheer admiration.

  She closed the door, and left him alone.

  Kaven stared down at the blank parchment. Where to begin? he asked himself. Where in the world to start? First and foremost, it needs a name.

  He thought back to riding his shield through the air. The freedom he felt. The exhilaration. The swiftness and speed.

  He dipped the quill in ink, and scribed:

  The First Wind Rider: An Enchantment of Flight.

  Back on deck, Kade joined Faelia at the ship’s railing.

  “Looked like you enjoyed yourselves up there,” said the Borean.

  “My heart is still pounding,” Kade said. “He has no idea what he’s just done. For our world—they will speak of him a hundred generations from now. We are witness to history this day.”

  “I always knew he could do it,” Faelia said seriously. Kade gave her a sideways glance, and the two shared a laugh. “There’s something impossible to believe about it, though. How Kaven accomplished in mere weeks what even the most brilliant wielders couldn’t do in their lifetimes.”

  “I told you,” said Kade. “He understands how things are made.”

  “It’s rubbish,” Faelia said. “No one’s that clever.”

  “But it’s so logical, so obvious, once you know how to do it.”

  “Which makes it all the harder to believe no one’s ever done it before. It’s too simple. I mean, he’s a smart little devil, but—”

  “I’ll tell you this,” Kade said, “his enchantments may have been amateur, but there was nothing simple about the memories he used.”

  Faelia studied Kade, as a brief inkling of sadness shone in her eyes. “You’re a better teacher than I’d ever be. He quite liked working with you, I think.”

  “It was nice,” said Kade. “I can’t believe he only used fundamental magic. Nothing from the Fountains. Which, now that I think of it, explains a lot—and might quell your disbelief. Nearly all the Sages that ever tried it before wrote of using some form of Gale. And hover charms, surely, but even I was convinced Gale would be essential—to manipulate the air. In the end, I was wrong. All those Sages were wrong. Kaven figured it out. I am so proud of him.”

  “Is there more to it than pride, I wonder?” Faelia asked. “Actually, I don’t wonder. It’s painfully obvious there’s more.”

  “I admire him.”

  “Is that all?” the Borean prodded. “Lord, if you weren’t so caught up in every word he says, one of my crew would have at least winked at him by now.”

  “Anything more would be a sin. And believe me, he wouldn’t appreciate it.”

  “Oh right,” Faelia said cynically. “The Old Rules. Look, the whole matter of his brother—being a half-breed—mixing of nations and all that.”

  “What of it?” Kade asked.

  “Well, we Boreans, neutrality is sort of our stigma. ‘Everyone abides a Borean,’ as they say.”

  “Sorry, what does this have to do with—”

  “What I’m saying is, from our stance, it may not be our way, but that doesn’t make it wrong. To each, his own, as it were. The Old Rules are far too harsh, if you ask me.”

  “I like your way better than mine,” Kade said.

  “Just saying,” Faelia told her. “I understand you’d be burned alive back home for having those kinds of thoughts. But not out here. Not with us.”

  She left Kade, who looked out across the sea, searching her feelings.

  “Oh, and Kade,” Faelia said behind her. “You’re wrong. He admires you too.”

  Kade thought it a kind remark, but as she looked back to the crashing waves, all she could think was, Faelia has no idea how Kaven feels.

  Chapter 25: Valea

  The path to Valea was treacherously steep. As accustomed as Gabrel had become to traversing the wilderness, he’d never worn so easily, or needed to stop for his horse to rest so often.

  “Anyone attacking Valea from the ground would be a bloody fool,” he said.

  “Altair, a Sage of old, fashioned this path with painstaking detail,” Arcturus told him. “He cut it into the mountain with an Earth Sword.”

  “Earth Sword?” Gabrel asked. “He didn’t happen to give it to the Breyen Aeroli for safekeeping, did he?”

  “And there it has remained, to our knowledge.”

  “Not anymore,” Gabrel told him. “And Mount Breyen’s leveled—its junakothari with it. Are you telling me the Aeroli haven’t seen the devastation?”

  “We haven’t left Valea since the fall of Caleton. Saléus has comma
nded it.”

  Gabrel and the trailing army passed between two enormous statues of Aeroli warriors, carved from black stone.

  “Welcome to our realm, ambassador,” said Arcturus.

  The path led ever upward, through massive, widely spaced trees. Gabrel saw dwellings all about their ancient trunks with roofs and flooring, but no walls. Everywhere, perches, walkways and platforms filled the autumnal canopy—some jutted out from trees and others hovered in place. Aeroli flew about the mountain forest, but most watched the army far below in silence.

  It’s amazing, Gabrel thought, as leaves of gold fell tranquilly from above.

  “Once, this place was filled to the brim,” Arcturus said.

  “I don’t see any enclosures,” Gabrel noticed. “None of your buildings have any walls.”

  “An Aerolus is most content in the open air. And the trees give us ample protection from the elements. You also forget our wingspan. Walls tend to get in the way.”

  “Where are you taking us?” Gabrel asked.

  “To the summit,” said Arcturus. “The Temple of the Sacred Sky—where many of us have taken refuge.”

  The trees thinned as Gabrel and the army ascended, but the land remained lush. The sky, a brilliant blue, was remarkably clear, save for a single tuft of cloud overhead that scattered the sun’s rays in glorious illumination.

  Gabrel took in the breathtaking views all around him. Far below, the land stretched in every direction to infinite magnificence, and he truly felt like he stood at the top of the world.

  Ahead, a monumental structure rose from the earth. It was stone—ages old, to Gabrel’s eyes. Its walls, thresholds, pillars and windows were fluid and swift in appearance, with winged and feathered motifs coursing through the entire sanctuary.

  They arrived at a great outer wall. Instead of a door, it had an entrance five times wider than Gabrel thought normal. For the wings, he reasoned.

  “Your army needn’t follow any further,” Arcturus said. “They can remain here, or find solace in the trees below.”

  General Fortenstar dismounted and gave the order to make camp.

  “Gabrel,” Asos said, Domini at his side. “Would you like us to come with you?”