Bladeborn

by Clayton Schonberger

  Long had Thustral feared a day such as this would come, but the sheer power of Zipzorag was far worse than he could have imagined. He had taken measures…planned… experimented… But he knew that more than likely all his planning would amount to nothing.

  Thustral heard Jerzee's booming voice above the din, “…Hey! Big ugly one-eye! Fight Jerzee! He not afraid!”

  “The ogre is giving his life for us,” Thustral said to himself. “Maybe I will have the time to reach Bladeborn after all...!”

  Thustral ran south down a trash-strewn tunnel street, hoping the Shaft Police didn't have it patrolled. He would follow the most direct route to the front gate to meet Bladeborn. Hopefully, he would get there in time.

  * * *

  Nearly exhausted, Bladeborn was relieved to find none of the King’s men in the wide gate-hall. The area was filled with more junk than other parts of the City. For years, it had been a dumping ground. The few shops he had seen on the way there had already been looted, and except for a few souls picking through the remains, there were few people.

  He climbed up a smoldering junk-heap at the end of the gate-hall. At the top were the remains of the gate-shrine, a place where he had once lit candles. Even it had been smashed by looters.

  From behind, he heard Thustral call to him. The Wizard was out of breath, and his eyes had a look grim as death.

  “What happened to you?” Bladeborn asked.

  “No time,” Thustral said, in a deadly serious tone. “Listen carefully! Take this poison, and coat the Sword of the Ancients with it! Do it now!”

  “Why should I…” Bladeborn began to ask.

  “Don’t you understand? ZIPZORAG has come!”

  Bladeborn stared at him in a moment of disbelief, then Nightslayer confirmed it, ~~Look in his eyes, Bladeborn! He has seen the Demon…No one can look upon it and not be changed~~

  With shaking hands, Thustral passed him a jar covered in magic writing. The Wizard explained, “From my understanding Zipzorag never completed the ritual that would have made it immune to venom such as this—the extract from a Rat-bug. Some time ago, I deciphered the last symbol of your faded tattoo! Only with this poison can we hope to affect him!”

  “You want me to try to defeat this creature by myself?” Bladeborn asked, finding it all hard to believe.

  Thustral said grimly, “It has come to pass that you are the only person who can do this, Swordsman. The City looks to you in its hour of greatest need. I will help however I can—but you must be the one to strike the blow.”

  Thustral turned and shouted at a group of looters who were wandering closely by, “Go to your homes and lock the doors! A Demon has come to Fortress City! All of you return to your homes now!”

  The looters mocked Thustral even as he tried to save them. Meanwhile, Nightslayer spoke to Bladeborn, ~~You have no choice… Even now, Zipzorag comes for you~~

  “How do you know any of this?” Bladeborn asked the Sword.

  ~~My knowledge comes from untold lifetimes of experience… Perhaps you doubt this foolish Wizard, but do not doubt me!~~

  Yet Bladeborn was uncertain about the Sword’s advice. He could not believe the fate of so many lives rested on his shoulders.

  Resolutely, he opened the jar of alchemical Rat-bug poison and poured the thick, foul-smelling substance down the length of the Sword.

  ~~If you can, lure the creature outside~~

  “What? How will I open the gate?” Bladeborn asked.

  ~~I will open the gate for you. I am its only key. Do not tell your friend what you plan; he will only get in the way!~~

  Bladeborn tightened his jaw in frustration. As much as he dreaded trying to kill the Demon, he guessed the Sword had it right. He left Thustral standing on the large heap of trash, yelling down to the looters below.

  Moments later, Bladeborn had clamored up the mound and he heard Thustral calling, “Wait!”

  “Go back, Thustral,” Bladeborn said.

  Bladeborn was far past the gate-shrine, near the ceiling of the enormous corridor. It was stacked almost to the top with rubble and cast-off junk from the City.

  By the light of the glow-globes set into the ceiling, Bladeborn saw that he had finally reached the back of the hallway. Beneath the grime, it was possible that this wall was a doorway.

  “It ends here,” he said.

  ~~This, Swordsman, is the gate to the rest of the world~~

  Suddenly, with a heavy hiss of air, a crack appeared in the center of the wall, and the pile of junk and refuse began to spill into the opening beyond. Bladeborn fought mightily to stay atop the stuff that was piled at his feet. He was partially buried when it finally settled.

  The years of dirt and filth made him shudder. He struggled out from under it and looked at where he was. Light from giant glow globes, set in the long hallway’s ceiling, began to illuminate the passage. The doors stood open wide, and Bladeborn could see a second set of wide, double doors far away. Unlike the interior of Fortress City, the corridor only had a thin coating of dust on the floor. He looked behind him and saw the detritus of the City.

  “No wonder we attracted the attention of a Demon,” Bladeborn thought to himself.

  ~~Swordsman, focus now! It comes!~~

  “How will it even get though there?” Bladeborn said aloud.

  Bladeborn saw the junk-pile shudder as though something was buried beneath it. He took several steps backwards, when it all pushed toward him several feet. Then, from the thrown-away vestiges of his City, he saw the Demon Lord of Nightmares arise, shaking its misshapen head. It bent its membranous neck down and looked right at Bladeborn, shouting, “Give me the Sword, mortal.”

  ~~Don’t look in its eye, Bladeborn!~~ Nightslayer instructed. Bladeborn took several steps back into the hallway behind him, slashing wildly at the air.

  The Demon advanced farther into the hallway. “Come greet me once more, Bladeborn! This time, we will get the meeting RIGHT!” The bone-chilling challenge from the Lord of Nightmares was partially spoken in Bladeborn’s mind.

  ~~You must strike true, Swordsman, or the Demon will forever control the City! This is your home and MINE! CHARGE, NOW AND KILL IT!~~

  When Zipzorag’s giant, clawed hand swept the trash away to get at Bladeborn, for an instant the creature was in phase and physically material. It was then that Bladeborn struck.

  Leaping forward at the single eye of Zipzorag, Bladeborn hoped to stick the length of Nightslayer into the thing’s bizarre, blue-glowing retina.

  The Demon Lord jeered, “YOU CANNOT KILL AN IMMORTAL!” It lurched forward, perhaps to swallow Bladeborn whole. However, Bladeborn managed to pierce the Demon Lord straight in the eye with Nightslayer’s entire poison-coated length. The tattoo Bladeborn had worn since he was a child flared up and magically burned through the weapon, creating a circuit that ran into Zipzorag’s body. The Demon Lord’s lunge carried it forward, and Nightslayer had impaled the semi-material head of it. Then, with startling speed and a horrendous outcry the Demon Lord of Nightmares spasmodically jumped back, pulling off the Sword’s length.

  Even after such a wound it looked for a moment that Zipzorag would recover, yet the Rat-bug poison coating on the weapon began to work.

  The Demon bellowed in obvious pain, grabbing for its face and neck. It fell backward and landed on the uneven, trash-strewn floor, writhing in agony.

  “I AM SLAIN! IMPOSSIBLE! I AM SLAIN!” It shrieked and rolled in the City’s refuse, continuing to howl as it died. Finally, it shuddered and lay still.

  Bladeborn looked at the body of the beast which was now fully in material form. The tips of its wings twitched once but beyond that it appeared lifeless. Behind Zipzorag’s smoldering corpse he saw that there were two Knights of the Screaming Heart, several Royal Mages, and many members of the Shaft Police.

  Thustral was also there, being held by a Knight of the Screaming heart. The Knight had a Sword at Thustral’s neck.

  “RUN!” Thustral called. The Knight quick
ly slugged the old Wizard on the back of the head with a steely fist, knocking him down.

  Bladeborn glanced behind him down the long hallway. the second set of large doors began opening at the end of the passage.

  ~~Flee, Swordsman! I can open the doors so you can escape! SURVIVE!~~

  Bladeborn ran down the hall, and the Knights and Shaft Police gave chase. They called after him with threats of death, and crossbowmen took aim and fired from atop the trash-pile at the first doors. But Bladeborn slipped through the far door at the end of the hallway without being hit. The door magically began to swing closed as soon as Bladeborn went through it. Then, with a loud *CLANG* the second door shut—and locked.

  Bladeborn, completely exhausted walked to a wall and slumped down to the floor, still holding Nightslayer. Like the inside of Fortress City, the hallway between the second and first gates was lit by large glow-globes on the ceiling. The layer of dust covered the floor, and a few cast-off, corroded weapons were scattered about, but little else. Bladeborn was alone in the wide, long corridor, the first to lay eyes upon it in two-hundred fifty years.

  He was astonished by all that had transpired that day…The revolt against the Nobles…Zipzorag’s demise…And his apparent escape. To kill the Demon, it had taken the power of Nightslayer, the Rat-bug poison Thustral had provided, and the tattoo he had worn on his chest all his life. He imagined that anything less would have been inadequate.

  “Nightslayer, can you tell me what is going on in the City?” Bladeborn asked.

  The Sword remained silent.

  Bladeborn waited there a long while, wondering what to do. He feared that Thustral was doomed, as the revolt was. Maybe the rebels in the City could overwhelm those attempting to dominate them. But Nightslayer’s last words rang true in his mind.

  “I must survive,” he repeated to himself.

  Slowly, he got to his feet and began walking down the corridor toward the final set of doors, which opened on silent hinges, revealing the blinding light of day outside of the City.

  * * *

  Archbishop Averdan and Bishop Auxi, manacled side-by-side to the walls of the upper prison chambers, exchanged knowing glances when the Demon Lord died. They both sensed the heaviness of evil had been lifted from their city. As their prison filled with smoke from the hundreds of fires below, they knew their contribution to the world would assure them a place in the Heavens…

  * * *

  Great King Koss, coughing from the smoke flowing into the Royal Chambers, knew there were few places one could survive in the Palace during such a crisis. The doors to the roof garden could only be unlocked by the Sword, and the accursed thief had taken it.

  Ironically, the windows of the tower cells each had ports to the outside in them. There were “safe rooms” he could flee to, but they were too far away. The thick, grey smoke had filled the Royal Chambers so quickly, almost everyone was caught by surprise. But when Koss was trapped, he was close to the cell that Princess Alaxia was in. If he could get inside the high tower, He could possibly survive. Also, the whole disaster was partially her doing. Koss was going to see that his rebellious daughter was sent to the Judge of the Dead before he was.

  Koss choked and staggered in the dark of the corridor toward Alaxia’s cell. He noted the fumes were less thick by the floor, so although it hurt his pride, he crawled on his large belly part of the way there. Up the final stairs to her cell, eyes tearing and burning, he found the cell door locked. It was a bit easier to breathe—as he had suspected, the smoke vented out somewhere and the air was better here.

  The key to Alaxia’s cell was nowhere to be found. So, he picked up a headsman’s axe from a weapon rack and began trying to smash through the thick door...

  Unable to continue, he laid down and closed his stinging eyes, coughing and coughing…

  Chapter 14: On the Blasted Plain

  Exiting the city, Bladeborn was awestruck as the oppressive walls of the Fortress City no longer surrounded him.

  Before him was a plain of barren rock stretching to far-off snow-capped mountains. In the cloudy sky, he saw the red sun, a giant warm spot, radiating a warmth like no oil-lit or magical fire. It was brilliant and enormous, behind a dull smoky haze. From the ledge at the lip of the door-passage Bladeborn climbed down to rocky ground. A low cloudbank rolled in, slightly covering the red sun... It was all amazing and exhilarating.

  The smell of the air was foreign to Bladeborn. The openness made him feel dizzy and exposed. The corridor that he had come through extended out from the City like an enclosed bridge. Fortress City loomed hundreds of feet up and to the sides from the bridge. Smoke streamed from the top towers of the City, and he wondered at the smoke… How bad were the fires now?

  Moving farther into the open plains, away from the gate-bridge, Bladeborn would turn to scrutinize Fortress City. The exterior of it was shiny as if it were made of glass or some liquid metal. Much of the structure stood in what could only be the ocean, and the horizon of the ocean reached farther away into the distance than the mountains. It looked as if Fortress City was sinking into the water, or its sides were moving like water, but Bladeborn decided it was a trick of the light.

  The land before him was known as “the Blasted Plain,” so-named because of the emptiness of it. He had read of the place in antique books. It was said no life could survive the temperature extremes on the land. The heat of the sun was pronounced.

  He shrugged his shoulders under the weight of his small pack and began walking inland, into the Blasted Plain, not knowing what lay ahead. He knew the Knights of the Screaming Heart and their kind were waiting for him inside the City, so he had no other choice but to move forward. He could only pray that those he left behind were safe.

  He sensed that for the first time in his life he was free. Even if he were to die in the rocky desert, he felt fulfilled, because he was free.

  The jagged ground of the Blasted Plain had rocks like those Bladeborn had once seen in a curiosity shop. There was sandy soil in each indentation of the stone he traversed. Small mushrooms of a kind he didn’t recognize grew in some of these hollows, but he saw no other sign of plant life. He was heartened that there was life beyond the City walls. He marched for hours and the sun drew high. A cool wind began to blow.

  As he gained distance from the City, plants became more and more common. He travelled up hills toward frozen ridges and one plant caught his eye.

  “This must be a small tree…just as Onar described,” he thought.

  The amount of knowledge he had gained from talking to Onar and reading ancient books turned out to be meagre. He laughed out loud in an outburst of spontaneous emotion, something he had never done before.

  Before the rebellion in Fortress City, Bladeborn had put together the pack he now carried; it held a few edibles, and he had taken two flasks of water. The water was gone after the first day, and he tried to save his food, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He wondered if this would be how it ended—dying of thirst on the Blasted Plain.

  Then he experienced his first sunset. He had read about night in the open, when the sky grew dark as the red sun disappeared. “Oh, I have much to learn,” he thought.

  ~~Yes you do, Bladeborn. But I will help~~

  That evening, Bladeborn picked up his pace across the hills, far away from the City. The amazing stars seemed big and close. Onar had said stars were holes in space leading to other universes.

  The next day, Nightslayer said, ~~I am still weakened from the battle, Bladeborn. But I have the strength to warn you that the glowing sun will burn your skin if you travel under it too long~~

  Not quite able to believe Nightslayer’s warning, he walked most of the next day, despite the heat. By that night, his skin was severely burned and blistered. “You warned me Nightslayer…I was a fool not to listen.” He vowed to take the Sword’s cautions more seriously in the future. To protect his face from the sun, he fashioned a hat for himself out of his empty water flask and a part of his cloak.


  Bladeborn kept traveling, doing so at night even though it was cold. He had run out of food after the third day and could only pray to Saint Morth for something that was edible. The single variety of mushrooms that grew in the rocky crevices of the ground had proven to be inedible.

  The ground became riddled with small caves and pockets as the altitude rose. He was in arid foothills nearing the snowy mountains he had seen when first exiting the City. He melted snow for water, so he didn’t die of thirst. Yet hunger was gouging his insides.

  After days of hunger, Nightslayer exclaimed, ~~Winter Trees! Swordsman, you are saved!~~

  “What do you mean?” Bladeborn demanded, the frustration of a hungry man showing in his attitude.

  ~~The fruit of these icicle-covered pines, as well as the sap from the branches can be eaten!~~

  Bladeborn lost no time trying the unusual foods. Soon his stomach was full—with none of the ill effects he had experienced from eating the mushrooms. He harvested the ‘Winter Trees,’ gathering what he could carry.

  During his journey, Nightslayer told him of the world. ~~Before I was held by Eshumé, I had been lost for many years. A fisherman found me while trawling in deep waters far west of the City. Loyally, the fisherman brought me to Eshumé, the King. Eshumé then began to conquer the land all around Fortress City, making the other Free States his own~~

  “You mean the land I am in was once populated?” Bladeborn asked.

  ~~Thousands lived here, before the ground was scoured by the fires of hell at the end of the Emperor’s war with the Rhinolon… When Eshumé lost the battle in the swamp, all this land became vulnerable… There was no choice but to the seal the City~~

  “Tell me something only you know,” Bladeborn asked aloud.

  ~~Our Planet is called Draconia. It is unique in all creation, being flat, like a coin. When the titans lost their war against the gods eons ago, it broke the round planet apart. They were punished, sentenced to spend eternity in the center of your world, keeping it functioning. This was long before my time here.”