The Legend of the Seven Sages: The Blade of Origin

by B. A. Scott

  “We’re gonna sling a bunch of shrubs over the wall?” Dareic asked.

  “Not exactly,” said the Sage. “Have you ever fallen into a patch of poisoned leaf?”

  “Sure, a few times.”

  “I’ve laced payloads with poisoned plant. Nauseating fungus. Spores that cause swelling, confusion and paralysis. Some may even lose their bowels.”

  “Frightening,” Dareic said, “but brilliant.”

  “If this city were a flower,” said Ralian, “then we, Dareic, are its thorns. Daro’s army will come through here. The forest on either side will funnel them so. We’ll have archers in the trees.”

  Dareic looked to the forest. Indeed, the field was surrounded by towering trees. He imagined hundreds of arrows raining down on where he stood, unleashed from on high.

  “You’ve become quite adept at utilizing Verdure, Dareic,” said the Sage. “But it can arm you in ways you haven’t yet learned. I brought you here to expand your arsenal, as it were. I wish we had longer to prepare, but such is not the case.”

  “You could let Vexen drink from the Fountain of Skael’demále, you know,” Dareic prodded, eager to hear the Sage’s unfiltered thoughts on Daro’s daughter. “Teach her a thing or two with me.”

  “Do not be fooled, ambassador,” Ralian said. “I am well aware of the risk she presents. Battle is chaos. I cannot watch her at every moment. Nor can you. Let this be her final test. Perhaps if she fights truly, Verdure will be her reward. Now, if you will observe.”

  The Sage demonstrated, using Verdure to conjure vines with thorns like tusks, beds of weeds that sought out and ensnared their victims, spear-like branches that burst from the ground, and all other manner of violent vegetation.

  “It requires a degree of malevolence on your part,” Ralian instructed. “Infusing your conjurings with the intent to protect themselves by unsavory means.”

  With the Sage’s guidance, Dareic learned to use Verdure in ways that terrified even him. Weeds that whipped, stalks that strangled, and blossoms that burrowed through flesh were enough for him to see Ralian in a newly fearful light.

  “Now, you try,” Ralian instructed.

  Dareic reached a hand toward the ground, but paused as flashes of the chaos and destruction at Caleton raced through his mind. Ralian noticed Dareic’s hesitation.

  “Come now, like I showed you,” he said.

  “What’s the use, Ralian?” Dareic said, lowering his hand.

  “Ambassador?”

  “It won’t make a lick of difference. None of it. I could conjure fifty thorny vines, but—they’ll only slow him down. You saw what Daro did to Caleton. There’s nothing we can do that will possibly stop that from happening here.”

  Ralian grew solemn and Dareic saw the hopelessness in his eyes.

  “The defenses will at least eliminate his forces,” said the Sage.

  “But not Daro,” Dareic said. “Ralian, we can’t win this. Not without the Blade of Origin. We should get everyone out of Skaelwood right now, while there’s still time.”

  “Daro has determined that the Skaelar nation must be eliminated,” said Ralian. “Should we flee this realm, his legions will hunt us down wherever we go. To the Human Treemen—our neighbors to the north. Behind the walls of Allestron, it does not matter. Would we run from him until he finally corners us? It would come to it eventually. Or do we stand and defend our great nation against him ‘til the very last?”

  Dareic stepped toward the Sage, his eyes pleading him to see reason.

  “Staying here is suicide,” he spoke as thoughtfully as possible. “Everyone here is going to die.”

  “Don’t you think I know that!?” Ralian snapped angrily. Dareic backed away.

  “Then let’s get your people out while we still can. Maybe my brothers will have gotten the Blade of Origin by the time we find another haven. And if not, I’d rather delay our deaths than die tonight. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Dareic, I need you to do something for me,” Ralian spoke tensely. “I need you to help me place defenses, like I showed you. I need you to never speak like this in front of any other Skaelar. I need you to at least pretend we stand a chance. If only for my people. If you cannot do that, then do not speak.”

  “Pretend?” Dareic asked. “Why? It’s the truth.”

  “Many who will guard this realm did not travel to Caleton. Surely, they’ve heard of its devastation from those that did. But if their Sage, the Skael’akron and their trusted—and yes, I mean you—if we act as though there is no hope of victory, even the hearts of our bravest will have already given up. They will look to us for courage when they have none, Dareic. We must carry ourselves with more fortitude than we actually possess. For the sake of their resolve, not our own.”

  “But Caleton—”

  “I saw what happened at Caleton,” Ralian interrupted him. “I saw it with my own eyes. I’ve not slept in days, knowing full well that if Daro brings the same assault to our walls, my entire race will be obliterated. But I cannot give in to this despair. I will not. It would spread throughout the ranks like a brushfire.”

  “I get it,” Dareic said somberly. “I do. But how do you plan to stop Daro? Your magic can’t touch him. His mask has an Alluvian jewel.”

  “Then we will tear the damned thing from his face.”

  Dareic paused, having never heard the Sage speak in such a way.

  “But even then, our weapons can’t—”

  “Dareic, I have no idea how to stop him,” Ralian expressed.

  “Well, he’s gotta breathe, doesn’t he?”

  “If you’re suggesting there’s hope in my poisonous payloads, I would pray you’re right. However, I believe the work upon his body makes him immune to poisons, gases and the like.”

  “But you don’t know for sure,” Dareic argued. “And, quite bluntly, couldn’t we just jump up from behind and strangle the bastard? A firm grip isn’t magic or a sharp blade. Maybe we’ve been overthinking this—and the most simple strategy could prove the most effective. Crush him beneath boulders. Choke the god-forsaken life out of him. Or literally rip his head off.”

  “Perhaps we could. Perhaps we will. But you still underestimate him. Daro has taken every threat against him into consideration. I imagine he could be strangled—but so has he. And if it seems simple and obvious to us, I would bet he’s already taken it into account, and found a way to contest it.”

  “So you think it’s pointless to even try?” Dareic asked.

  “Of course not,” said the Sage. “I’ll try anything against him. I’m only saying, this is how you need to think. Daro has literally spent centuries anticipating our countermeasures. Days upon days, years upon years, decades upon decades crucially, vigorously, maniacally anticipating our possible strategies. Even this—I’m sure he already expects us to lay defenses, just as we’re doing right now. If Caleton showed you anything, it’s that whatever you would throw at him, he’s ready for.”

  Ralian paused, realizing his words weren’t exactly boosting Dareic’s spirit.

  “Now, your help, ambassador,” he implored. “Please.”

  For the better part of an hour, they prepared the last of the battlefield, working their way back toward the gates. As Dareic formed his final deadly conjuring, a distant horn sounded on the air.

  His face drained of color, and his stomach turned. He looked to Sage, whose eyes closed. Ralian took a deep breath, then regarded Dareic.

  “Thank you, ambassador,” he said gravely. “That will be all.”

  Chapter 28: The Battle of Skaelwood

  Dareic and Ralian equipped themselves for battle, then joined the ranks upon the wall. Treäbu, Vega and Vexen awaited them, standing armored and ready above the gates. Dareic noticed Vexen holding a bow and boasting Skaelar blades.

  All throughout the battlements, Skaelar, Humans and Erygians loaded catapults, and sprinted to their positions as commanders shouted orders.

  Dareic looked behind the wall, where a se
a of warriors stood ready to either reinforce the soldiers above, or manage the city gates, should they be breached.

  “I feel like Caleton probably had stronger defenses,” Dareic said. “And still, it fell. We’ve just a single wall.”

  Ralian cast him an unpleasant glare.

  “And—yet—” Dareic recalled the Sage’s request, “we will prevail.”

  “Many will fall to our traps before even reaching the wall,” Ralian told him.

  The sun, nearing sunset, cast long shadows across the battlefield. Dareic saw Daro’s forces emerge in ranks from the distant trees. He looked to the two tree lines, flanking the open plain, and strained his vision, trying to see the thousands of Skaelar camouflaged amidst their trunks.

  “They’ll be caught in a crossfire,” Dareic reasoned. “But if Daro leads them—”

  “He does not,” Vega said curiously.

  “What can you see?” Ralian asked as the army approached. “What offenses?”

  “No catapults, no battering ram, no siege towers,” said the Aerolus. “Blessed and Primen, but no Fated. Led by two on horseback. Neither is Daro.”

  “What!?” Dareic belted, his eyes wide with sudden optimism. “He didn’t come? Are you sure you don’t see him?”

  Vega focused intently on the approaching army. “He does not lead. Perhaps there’s trickery at play.”

  “Daro has a reputation of confronting his opposition head-on, unhidden,” Ralian said. “Guile is not his style.”

  Hadaan and Dexius rode, side by side. They stopped the tens of thousands behind them, five hundred feet before the wall.

  “Just beyond the traps. Right where we want them,” Dareic uttered.

  Daro’s bloodsons dismounted. Hadaan walked to the front line, where one of his Blessed Captains stood, holding a small chest, as though it were precious beyond measure. Hadaan unclasped its lockings, and pulled Daro’s deadly furentus from within.

  “The Warscythe,” he spoke, observing the fist-sized sphere. It was smooth—polished, white marble, with two halves separated by a thin, glowing gap.

  He returned to Dexius, and slapped their steeds on the rear, sending them from the plains.

  “Mind the trees,” Dexius said, nodding to the surrounding forests.

  “I have,” Hadaan said, holding his shield in one hand, and the Warscythe in the other. “Remember the plan, Dexius. You will take the left flank.”

  Dexius bowed his head.

  “I go forward,” said Hadaan. “You may accompany me.”

  They trudged intently toward the wall as Dareic and the others watched on.

  “They’re not triggering any of our defenses,” Dareic told Ralian.

  “We could not cover every inch,” said the Sage. “But they should have at least tripped something by now.”

  Hadaan and Dexius halted two hundred feet beyond the gate. All along the battlements, scores of Skaelwood’s defenders had arrows aimed straight for them.

  When they stopped, Dareic recognized Hadaan at once.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he gasped, looking to Treäbu to see if he’d made the same connection. “That’s Hadaan—Daro’s bloodson.”

  “You know him?” Ralian asked.

  “Aye,” said Dareic. “But last I saw him, he didn’t have sodding wings.”

  “Those belong to me,” Vega growled, eyeing his stolen appendages with rage.

  “The other is Dexius, our brother,” spoke Vexen.

  Hadaan and Dexius adjusted their grasps on their shields, ready to raise them at any moment.

  “Does Vexen Alakai cower behind your walls!?” Hadaan shouted. No answer came. “Vexen?! VEXEN!”

  “Brother!” Vexen called out, stepping forward. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Dexius could barely contain his hatred. He felt the Amulet of Oblivion weigh heavier from his neck, concealed beneath his armor. No, he told himself. Not yet. He fought to contain his resentment, and it took all his concentration.

  “You have decided your fate, sister,” Hadaan said. “We will show you no quarter.”

  “Have you ridden forward to discuss terms?” Ralian asked.

  “Ah, Ralian Sheen,” said Hadaan. “What terms are there to discuss? Negotiating your surrender? We would not accept it. We didn’t march half-way across Adoran to talk. We came to strike you from this world. Every—last—one of you.”

  “I’ve heard enough!” Ralian whispered, filling himself with magic. He sent a blast of Fury toward them, catching them by surprise.

  Hadaan and Dexius crouched behind their shields. The stream of jagged lightning bolted from Ralian’s palm, but never touched them, as though they were shielded by an invisible wall.

  “The are guarded?” Ralian asked.

  “It’s their amulets!” Vexen told the Sage. “I should have known —magic can’t touch them.”

  “That would’ve been nice to know sooner!” scolded the Sage.

  “Get ready, Dexius,” Hadaan said, twisting the top and bottom of his Warscythe in opposite directions. It vibrated in his grasp, and he hurled it—not toward the wall, but straight up into the air.

  At the peak of its ascent—naught twenty feet from the ground—the furentus hovered in place, spinning wildly.

  “What is that?” Dareic asked his companions.

  “Archers! Fire!” General Dúmeru ordered. The multitudes, both upon the wall and behind, unleashed their arrows—as did the camouflaged Skaelar in the flanking trees.

  At once, Hadaan’s army was met by a crushing storm of arrows. Primen and Blessed raised their shields, but many were slain in the deluge.

  Hadaan and Dexius, crouching low, felt relief from the onslaught, for the Warscythe above had conjured a broad, magical shield, like a spinning halo of bright light, ever growing, ever expanding, protecting all those who stood below it.

  From the wall, catapults fired their deathly payloads into the ranks. Primen and Blessed broke cover as poisonous gases and all manner of nature’s wrath collided with them.

  The halo of shield-light spun feverishly and sounded as though it was sucking in all the air in Skaelwood. Dareic watched as it withdrew back into the orb, like the furentus was inhaling a deep breath.

  “I have a bad feel—” he started to say, but was cut short by a blinding flash, as the Warscythe unleashed its power. A wide, expanding ring of light burst from it, like a spinning saw blade, cutting down everything in a half-mile radius.

  The flanking forests were sliced clean through. The massive trunks creaked and groaned as they crashed to the battlefield. All the Skaelar that clung to their bark fell or leapt to the ground—numerous crushed by the tumult. Hadaan’s army receded inward, away from the falling trees, then attacked the surviving Skaelar.

  But not only the forests were affected, for the Warscythe’s blast smashed through Skaelwood’s wall, extending well into the Fortress. All who stood atop it were shaken from their stances as it gave way, shattering beneath their feet and pitching forward, like the head of a man who’d been punched in the gut.

  Dareic clutched the stone beneath him as it rocked and cracked. Skaelar, Humans and Erygians leapt to safety, held tight to whatever they could grasp, or fell victim to the wrecking. Catapult payloads, yet to be fired, ignited as they spilled from their holdings. Chaos consumed Skaelwood’s defenders as the Warscythe dropped to the dirt beside Hadaan, lifeless and hollow of power.

  Finally, all was still. Through the settling dust, Dareic looked to everyone around him. Their forms were shaken and dazed. The battlements lay in ruins—a broken wall of shattered stone, filled with injured warriors and screams of poisonous pain. Sections of the wall had spilled out onto the battlefield, like ramps of rocky rubble.

  Hadaan unsheathed his sword.

  “Forward!” he commanded his army.

  With ferocious roars, Daro’s legions charged toward Skaelwood. Immediately upon their stampeding, Ralian’s defenses sprung into action—ensnaring, skewering, pa
ralyzing, and utterly consuming large pockets of charging demons. Those that followed behind the fallen trampled over their bretheren, only to be the next victims.

  But in sheer numbers, they advanced.

  “The left flank, Dexius” Hadaan said. “Go.”

  Dexius obeyed and sped toward a horde of demons already moving up a ramp comprised of several large segments of collapsed stone, while Hadaan charged forward, traversing heaps of rubble, straight toward the Sage.

  Dareic crawled to the edge of the wall, and peered into the battlefield. All of Skaelwood’s defenses were destroyed, and Hadaan’s army rushed forward at full stride.

  “Ralian!” Dareic yelled. “They’re coming!”

  The Sage stumbled to Dareic, observing the mayhem.

  “Order the Peletors!” he commanded, and an urgent note bellowed across the air.

  Hundreds of Skaelar emerged on Peletors from the demolished forests. Undoubtedly, Ralian assumed, a good number had already been lost to the Warscythe’s crippling blow. But the bulk remained, and they charged Hadaan’s forces from either side, ripping through their ranks.

  Ralian reached his hand toward the sky, and summoned more blasts of Fury than Dareic could count. They struck the dark army in heated explosions of earth and fire, electrocuting swarms of charging demons.

  “Hit ‘em again!” Dareic said. But before Ralian could unleash another blast, Hadaan and his forces reached what remained of the battlements, and the ranks collided.

  * * * * *

  Kaven and Kade braced themselves as furniture skidded across their cabin’s floor. The storm hit hard, and saw the Agile tossing through enormous swells. As he watched the items about his room tumble back and forth, Kaven couldn’t help but take pride in the fact that his two wind riders remained perfectly fixed in place, leaning against the wall.

  “I feel like a ragdoll,” Kade said, struggling to remain upright. “I’m going up on deck to help Faelia.”

  “She told us to stay below,” said Kaven.