The Legend of the Seven Sages: The Blade of Origin

by B. A. Scott

  Saléus and Gabrel raced to the Aeroli, who guarded the doors.

  “Keid, are they safe?” asked Saléus.

  “They are,” said Keid.

  “Are what safe?” Gabrel asked. “Saléus, what’s behind these doors?”

  Saléus looked back down the hall, wary of more attackers, then spoke, “Our future.” He pulled one the doors open, and Gabrel looked inside.

  Thousands of eggs, large as barrels, filled a vast cavern, warm and humid.

  Finally, Gabrel understood. Migration meant transporting the fragile future of their species across dangerous lands.

  “Good glory,” Gabrel uttered at the sight of countless unborn Aeroli.

  Saléus closed the door and turned to the Human soldiers.

  “Guard this hall with your very lives,” he said. “The future of my people depends on it. Minkara, Gabrel, come with me.”

  They raced to the surface, finding no Fated in their path. The skies were clear, for any remaining demons had fled in retreat after witnessing Gabrel’s power.

  They dashed to the forest, ready to aid any who remained. They found General Fortenstar, just as the last of the Fated fell from above—victims of Aeroli in the towering trees. Their dark forms crashed to the ground, joining more heaps of corpses than Gabrel could count, for he could not take a step without walking over the dead.

  Humans, Aeroli and Fated littered the forest floor, and the air carried a gruesome scent. Out of breath, Gabrel looked to his fellow survivors, but there were no cheers of victory. No expressions of triumph. The Fated were vanquished, but for all that was lost, none could comprehend the magnitude of what transpired.

  Without a word, Gabrel and the others surveyed their fallen brethren. The dead were endless—in the forest, in the Temple, across the summit, and however many fell from the skies upon the mountainside.

  Outside the Temple, Gabrel found Domini cradling his brother.

  “He died, saving me,” Gabrel said.

  “He saved you, so you could save us all,” Domini responded.

  Gabrel turned to Saléus and Minkara, who wept over the corpses of their people.

  “I’m sorry,” Gabrel told the Sage. But Saléus did not respond. Instead, he and his surrounding Aeroli unleashed a call of lament into the air, echoing across the sky.

  * * * * *

  Incinians fought alongside Skaelar, Humans and Erygians, disposing of Hadaan’s army. The last Blessed was slain, just as Fahren joined Dareic and the others upon the battlements.

  The air was still, save for the roaring fires, spread across the plain.

  Fahren subdued their flames with a lowering of his hands, as though he was hushing a room of raised voices.

  Ralian mounted a peak of crumbled wall and surveyed the battlefield.

  “WE ARE VICTORIOUS!” he exclaimed, raising his blade high above his head. Roars erupted from the armies. Dareic slowly raised his own blade, but did not join in the cheers. Everywhere he looked, all his companions were so splattered with blood, he could not spot an inch of unmarked skin upon them.

  He walked to Fahren, paused, and without a greeting, fully embraced him.

  “You’re welcome,” said the Incinian Sage.

  Ralian carefully pulled Dexius’s amulets from around his neck, as though they might explode if provoked. He studied them closely as Treäbu joined him.

  “An amulet that conjures the Oblivion Flame,” said Ralian. “I’ve only ever heard of one such furentus. How many ages has this remained hidden—to now, find itself in our possession? And this—” he raised the Alluvian Amulet. “Like his brother’s, protected him from magic.”

  Treäbu looked to the precious gemstone, then to Vexen.

  “But is it ours to take?” he asked.

  “Why wouldn’t we?” asked the Sage. “We are the victors this day, and these,” he lifted the amulets, “the spoils of war.”

  “But he was her brother. Vexen struck him down. And I’m sure it’s some sort of family heirloom. Invaluable as it may be, Ralian, it should rightfully go to her.”

  Ralian pondered for a moment, finding merit in Treäbu’s reasoning.

  “Well spoken, Treäbu Skael’adar,” he said.

  They exchanged a hand-hearting, and Treäbu gazed to Vexen. She stood alone, apparently on the verge of tears. She seemed torn between celebration and lamenting her involvement.

  Treäbu approached her, filled with gratitude.

  “Thank you,” he told her. “For saving me.”

  “He would have killed you,” Vexen said. “No one has ever shown me such kindness as you—you, who protected me, vouched for me, believed in me.”

  Treäbu bowed with a hand-hearting, and Vexen returned the gesture. But for Treäbu, it wasn’t enough to express his appreciation. He moved closer and kissed her gently on the forehead. Vexen’s heart swelled, and she could not help but beam.

  Fahren studied his allies, glancing from Ralian, who cautiously pocketed two amulets—to Treäbu and Vexen. He saw Dareic walk to Vega, who stood stoically, surveying the battlefield with sadness.

  “We did it,” Dareic said. “We won the battle. And look—Humans, Erygians, Skaelar, …an Aerolus,” he nodded to Vega, “The alliance is forming. Maybe now, Daro will think twice about attacking another city.”

  “Perhaps,” said Vega. “Or, we have merely delayed him. Though we emerged victorious here, today, the damage is not yet finished. Skaelwood’s healing houses will overflow with wounded—and those, bitten by Primen, whose days are surely numbered.”

  “Right,” said Dareic, suddenly deflated. “Sorry about your wings, by the way. If I can’t stand the thought of Daro’s bloodson wearing them, I can’t imagine how you feel.”

  “Yes,” Vega said. “Though my wounds are healed, it is a scar I will always bear. But as far as Daro’s bloodchildren go, I saw you save Vexen during the fight.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I did,” said Dareic.

  “Does that mean your feelings toward her have changed?”

  Dareic hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I suppose they have,” he spoke. “You never told me, you know, what you thought of her?”

  “You have always judged her from your own point of view, Dareic,” Vega told him.

  “And you haven’t?”

  “Have you ever wondered what the world looks like from the sky? You see more. Our distance gives us a wider view of the landscape. It allows us perspective.”

  “And do you never take sides?” Dareic asked.

  “Of course we do,” said Vega. “We cannot remain in the air forever. Now that I’ve seen her for who she truly is, I believe the same as you.”

  Dareic nodded and spoke, “She is one of us.”

  Chapter 33: The Aftermath

  Dawn broke over the Centuries Isles. Rays of sunlight pierced the dissipating storm clouds, like promises of peaceful passage. What ice that remained aboard the Agile melted away beneath golden light.

  “The storm has passed,” said Captain Cyver. Kaven and Faelia, exhausted from standing guard through the night, were more than relieved to get under way. “Faelia, can you get us out of here?” asked the Captain.

  The Borean Sage conjured a swelling of Wave, lifting the Agile from the shore. Giant chunks of Harcos’s flesh rose with it, already victims of feeding gulls. Faelia guided the vessel over what remained of the Zelvanyan’s carcass, out to deeper waters, where healthy winds filled the sails.

  “I think that’ll do,” she said, then turned to Kaven. “We wouldn’t be alive, if not for you.”

  “It was a horrible feeling—that magic,” Kaven said, observing half of Harcos’s head, floating nearby. Its skin appeared rapidly decayed, revealing portions of skull beneath. “I never want to conjure it again.”

  “If you do not wish to write an account of that power, I would completely understand,” Faelia said. “But you should absolutely make one for what transpired last night. As should I, and Kade—when she awakens.”

&
nbsp; “An account?” Kaven asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Kaven, the Guardian has been here since before the Great Purge. What happened last night will be told of for generations to come. That we—or you, in all fairness—saw to its demise. Since the first recorded voyages, sailing by these Isles has never been safe. Never. Don’t you see the impact this will have? We will be remembered for this. Stories. Legends. Kaven Caladen, the First Wind Rider, Savior of the Centurian Isles.”

  “I’ll make the account,” said Kaven. “But I’ll leave the embellishment to you. It’ll have to wait, though. We should check on Kade.”

  “Of course we should,” said Faelia.

  Kaven and Faelia went to Kade’s cabin, where a Borean woman sat at her bedside.

  “Thank you for staying with her,” he said. “I’ll take it from here.”

  The Borean left, just as Kaven sat in the chair next to Kade’s bed, feeling her forehead.

  “I wish I knew what’s wrong with her,” he said. “She could have broken bones, a knock to the head—I don’t know, I’m not a healer. It’s the sort of thing that makes you wish you had Revival.”

  “You need your rest, Kaven,” said Faelia. “We’re clear of the Isles.”

  “I’m alright,” Kaven persisted.

  “Something to eat, then,” Faelia said, taking a moment to observe his care for Kade. She left and closed the door.

  “Wake up,” Kaven pleaded in whisper. “Please, wake up.”

  He pulled them hem of Kiara’s dress from his pocket and could not help but draw a parallel between the two women. He looked to Kade, then back to the scrap of cloth. Conflicted by the prospect of losing yet another person he cared for, he left her quarters and made for the back of the ship. His eyes searched the seas for peace, spotting the Centurian Isles like small, shadowy bumps on the horizon.

  For a while, he gazed out upon the ocean in silence, remembering Kiara’s incredible compassion.

  Faelia approached and leaned against the railing next to him, looking out to sea.

  “You left her quarters in a flash, didn’t you?” she said, casually presenting Kaven with a piece of bread.

  Kaven took it from her, and ate.

  “I’ll head back in,” he said. “I just don’t like feeling like I can’t help her.”

  “She needs rest,” said Faelia. “She’ll be alright.”

  Kaven nodded, though he knew they were merely words of comfort, not truth.

  “I’m usually not one to give much insight,” Faelia spoke. “I’ve traveled the world, sure enough, but my acquaintances are merely that. I’m never in one place long enough to really get to know somebody. It’s all very formal, you see.”

  “Yeah,” Kaven barely uttered, just to let Faelia know he was listening.

  “Which is why having you two on board has been such a pleasure,” the Borean continued. “Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re thick, and she’s clueless, but as it turns out, I can’t tell you how much I’ve actually enjoyed your company.”

  “Kade’s not clueless,” Kaven said. “She’s smarter than any of us.”

  “Of course,” said Faelia, not divulging the meaning behind her sentiment. “She means a good deal to you. And I’m quite fond of her.” She paused, daring to speak boldly, yet sympathetically. “Kaven, I know your thoughts dwell on the past. On those you’ve lost. I’m not telling you to forget them. But so long as you punish yourself like this, you’ll never realize what’s right in front of your eyes.”

  “And what is that?” Kaven asked.

  Faelia glanced ever so briefly in the direction of Kade’s quarters. “What indeed?” she said thoughtfully, then left Kaven to his ponderings.

  Her words sank into Kaven’s heart, for he knew them to be true. After hours of restless contemplation, he looked to Kiara’s hem, closed his eyes, and spoke, “I miss you. And I will always love you.” He kissed the tattered cloth, and let it slip from his hand—carried on the wind out to the rolling sea.

  Kaven returned to Kade’s quarters and lit candles. He sat in the chair by her bed, and finally let himself succumb to sleep.

  * * * * *

  All of Skaelwood assembled at the Fountain of Skael’demále. Vexen and Fahren ascended to its basin, led by Ralian, as thousands watched on. Upon the forest floor, Dareic, Treäbu and Vega stood, scarred from battle, but cleansed and mended. Treäla was at Treäbu’s side, beyond thankful for his survival.

  At the Fountain’s brim, Vexen and Fahren knelt before the Sage.

  “First and foremost,” Ralian said to Vexen, revealing Dexius’s Alluvian Amulet. “This, more than anyone, belongs to you.” Vexen lowered her head as Ralian clasped it around her neck.

  Vexen knew she should have felt honored, but the amulet only reminded her of how it came to be hers.

  “Today, the gift of Verdure is passed unto you,” Ralian spoke for all to hear. “What offering you would give to drink from the Fountain of Skael’demále has already been given, and then some.” The Sage reached to the Fountain’s brim, and lifted a curved, wooden horn. He dipped it into the lustrous water, and held it above Vexen’s head. “Drink, and be refreshed,” he said.

  Dareic watched as Vexen sipped, then Fahren, thinking it strange that he actually agreed with their permission to drink—having had such opposite feelings upon first meeting both of them.

  The crowd roared as the new wielders of Verdure rose to their feet.

  “Ventha il dolthran!” Dareic heard a group of nearby Skaelar chant in adulation.

  “What are they saying?” he asked Treäbu.

  “Hail the victors,” Treäbu answered. “We need to work on your Skalen.”

  “Hey, I’ve picked up a thing or two,” Dareic said. “But you’re right. I’m gonna need it.”

  “How’s that?” asked Treäbu.

  “It’s one thing to fight with the Skaelar army. It’s another to travel with it across Adoran.”

  “Across Adoran?” Treäla asked. “And where might they be heading?”

  “If my brothers had any luck,” Dareic said, taking a moment to gaze across the crowd of Skaelar, Humans, Erygians and Incinians, “to Avenalora.”

  * * * * *

  Kade awoke amidst the Agile’s gentle rocking. She took in her surroundings, not knowing how she’d arrived back on board, for the last thing she remembered was attacking a gargantuan sea creature. Even more surprising was the sight of Kaven, asleep in the chair next to her.

  “Kaven?” she spoke, and his eyes lifted open.

  “Kade, you’re awake!” he rejoiced, moving to the bed. He held her hand as he sat down beside her. “Are you alright? How do you feel?”

  “Sore,” Kade answered. “My ribs—they hurt a smidge.”

  “You can heal yourself with Revival, can’t you?” Kaven asked.

  “When I’m strong enough,” said Kade.

  “Kade,” Kaven spoke. “I thought I’d lost you. You gave us all a good scare.”

  “You were that worried?” Kade asked. “Kaven, you’re shaking.”

  “Just—promise me you’ll never do anything like that again—risking your life,” Kaven told her. “It wasn’t so long ago that I—I felt very differently toward you. But now, I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Please, if there is a next time, if you find yourself so endangered, just let me take the risk instead.”

  Kade placed her hand on Kaven’s face.

  “No,” she spoke softly. “I won’t lose you either.”

  Kaven looked into her eyes, mesmerized. They shone like starlight upon the bluest ocean. Kade, likewise, could not look away, for both she and Kaven were profoundly stunned upon realizing that there was love between them. They couldn’t begin to understand how—by some unlikely turn of fate—they shared it for each other.

  Kaven leaned slowly down to her, and though they both knew giving in to their feelings was forbidden, in that moment, in that place, they didn’t care. For their unbridled hearts were compelled to act
.

  They kissed tenderly, barely illuminated by candles burned low.

  Kaven pulled back slightly, taking in Kade’s astounding beauty. She gave him a loving smile. They kissed again, deeper and passionately, and all through the night, Kaven never left her side.

  * * * * *

  From the Adorcenn Tower, Daro’s attention turned to the skies, where he saw a distant speck approaching from the east, and a dark cluster flying in from the south west.

  Fated, Daro presumed. With news of our victories. But as the eastern figure neared, he realized it was Hadaan, flying frantically toward him.

  “My son,” Daro uttered dreadfully.

  Hadaan entered the chamber through a window, scarred and bloody. He collapsed to the stone floor, gasping for air, drained of energy.

  Daro braced Hadaan, fearing his bloodson returned with only seconds to live. He pulled the Alluvian amulet from his neck, then filled him with Revival, mending his wounds. With the Gauntlet’s power, Hadaan was healed almost instantaneously.

  A single Fated One—Orag the Scarred—arrived from Valea and knelt as Daro conjured a pool of water in his palm, lifting Hadaan’s head to sip from it.

  “Drink, my son,” Daro spoke worriedly.

  “We were defeated,” Hadaan said, catching his breath. “I alone survived.”

  Daro reeled in shock. “The entire army is lost?” he asked. Hadaan nodded. “I should have given you more,” Daro said, shaking his head. “An even greater force.”

  “It wasn’t numbers, Father” said Hadaan. “The Incinian Sage arrived from the south. Had we ten thousand more, they would have fallen, just the same.”

  “Embros warned of rogue Incinians,” Daro said. “Another blasted thorn.”

  “I feel my strength returning, Father. I think I can—I think I can manage,” Hadaan said, pushing himself up.