Bladesorrow (The Agarsfar Saga Book 1)

by D. T. Kane

  Finally, he said, “One of the first lessons I was taught about my shadow attunement was the unique dangers it poses that other attunements do not. To understand that danger, you must first learn a bit of history. Though, some might say it’s more story than fact.”

  He remained silent a time longer, still trying to think his way through precisely what he wanted—no, needed—to share with the boy. The basics of shadow lore had been taught as part of every child’s basic education when he’d grown up. He was always forgetting this was no longer the case. He’d need to start at the very beginning for this pair.

  “Shadow is unlike the other four elements,” Erem said, hoping he didn’t sound too much like the boring lecturers he’d despised during his youth. “The four prime elements—earth, fire, water, and light—are the basic constituents of all life. They’re elementary. Irreducible. To some extent, every single man can tap the power of all four, as they all reside within. But most are born with only enough elemental sense to brush the surface of the power contained in one, perhaps two. Many never learn to tap the elemental power within them at all.”

  Erem paused. Ferrin looked bored, disappointed. All this he obviously already knew. But Jenzara gave him a look of encouraging appreciation, which motivated him to carry on.

  “Shadow, on the other hand, does not fit neatly into the equation.”

  This seemed to ease the boredom on the boy’s face.

  “It too is irreducible—it cannot be broken down into constituent parts. Shadow just is. But unlike the prime elements, it seems to serve no purpose. Fire binds us, burns in our souls, heats our breath; water gives life, nourishes; earth lends us physical form, and we return to it when we die; light gives us sight, shows us the way, heals what is broken. But what of shadow? Elementalists have developed many theories explaining the fifth element. Most are complete rubbish, others too complicated to explain. And also rubbish.”

  Erem paused at this, not sure if he wanted to continue with this line of thought.

  “Well what theory do you believe?” Ferrin asked with palpable interest. He was soaking in this information now, eyes aglow with fascination. Even Jenzara looked intrigued, though she seemed to be trying to hide it.

  “For a long time, I didn’t bother myself with the theory of shadow. I had many other interests to pursue.” He considered explaining his one-time lack of interest further, but decided it best to leave it.

  “The one who taught me what little I do know about the shadow was religious. A true devotee of the Angelic Church. I’ve never been one for religion, but my teacher’s explanation of the shadow is as good as any other I’ve heard.

  “The way he put it, time—at least the time ordinary men experience—exists on what he called the True Path. This is the central tenant of the Angelic Church.”

  Erem rose, unsheathed his ebon blade, and used it to trace a circle in the dirt between himself and his companions. Looking down at the rough drawing, he continued.

  “The True Path is a continuum,” he said, motioning at the sketch. “The entire Path is always there, just like this circle. Every moment of time existing all at once. If one could walk it freely like an ordinary road, one could travel to any moment of time whenever one wished. And if one walked long enough in a single direction, he’d end up back where he started. Each moment is always happening. All the time. In perpetuity.

  “But most men are locked into their own small portion of the Path, never leaving it, always carrying out the same tasks, having the exact same experiences, over and over. Forever. Like they’re traveling down a river’s current with no way to alter course. For this reason, the Angelic sometimes refer to common men as Linears.”

  “Seems a narrow view to me,” Jenzara cut in. “I like to think I’ve some control over my future. That my decisions influence what happens to me.” She frowned.

  Erem nodded. “I had a similar reaction at first. But it’s not that simple, at least not according followers of the Angelic. Or, perhaps it’s more accurate to say it’s no longer that simple. Let me explain.

  “In the beginning, there was only the Path; all ordinary men locked into their singular route; the Angelic existing as semi-immortals living free of the Path’s linear constraints. Some depict them as living upon a great mountain at the Path’s center, overlooking all of time. They did so according to a strict code, which mandated they not interfere with any ‘Constants,’ a term used to describe significant events and people on the Path. But aside from that basic ethic there was little for the Angelic to do for the Path. It simply was, requiring no active care. That is, until the Cataclysm.”

  Jenzara appeared skeptical. “I don’t recall ever learning about a ‘Cataclysm’ during history lessons. And my father was not one to skimp on history.”

  Ferrin chuckled, but Jenzara didn’t seem amused.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Erem said. “The Cataclysm is a central belief of the Church, but not well accepted outside its circles. Certainly not endorsed by the Senate these days. Even Raldon, I’d imagine, didn’t inject too much of the Church’s teachings into his lectures. Not something supporters of the Temple would be too fond of hearing, I’d imagine.”

  Jenzara looked as if she wanted to say more, but remained silent, face growing sullen. She became defensive like that when Raldon was mentioned. And who could blame her after what she’d seen?

  “As I was saying,” Erem continued, “the Cataclysm was something of a civil war amongst the Angelic. Seven of their number decided they’d no longer live by their people’s basic code, instead using their powers to live lavish lives in any manner they desired.

  “Each of the Seven murdered a wealthy Linear, inserting him or herself into the life vacated by the one they’d murdered. For a time, there seemed to be no repercussions for their actions. The Conclave—the leadership of the Angelic—was furious, of course. But the Path seemed to carry on as it always had, with the Seven simply filling the spots of those they’d murdered. And the Conclave wasn’t prepared to create more unrest than already existed over the killing of, what were in their view anyway, just a few lesser beings.

  “But then a strange thing happened. The men and women who’d been murdered slowly began to reappear, demanding the rogue Angelics relinquish their stolen lives. Remember, the Path is circular, so as it comes around once more, it is able to self-correct, at least to a certain extent. If someone interferes with the proper flow of time, the Path normally acts of its own accord to return itself to equilibrium.

  “The rogue Angelics, though, either had no understanding of this, or simply didn’t care. They scoffed at the demands of the reincarnated and killed them again. But they kept coming back—the Path methodical in its attempts to correct itself. And soon, the Conclave began to detect tremors in the Path’s integrity, its horologers becoming increasingly concerned. At first, they seemed nothing more than minor shoals. Rough patches in time’s flow. But as the Seven persisted in their folly, continuing to kill the murdered men and women each time they reincarnated, the damage to the Path grew.

  “Eventually, the damage became too great for the Conclave to ignore. They sent the most powerful of their number to deal with Seven. Stephan Falconwing. He visited each of the Seven, one by one, urging each to abandon their ruinous ways, renew their oaths, and return to the Conclave.”

  “He just offered to let them return, after all they’d done?” Jenzara interrupted. “They don’t sound like the sort of gods I’d want to put my faith in.” Her expression was like one who’d just swallowed a handful of sour grapes. Angry. Unsettled.

  Erem shrugged. “As I said, I’m not a religious man. But you must keep in mind that the Angelic didn’t necessarily view themselves as gods. Superior beings? Yes. But not gods. For the most part they existed totally separate from men; they didn’t see themselves as having any responsibility for, or relation to, Linears. I suppose when you live nearly forever, killing a few creatures who will soon die anyway, not to mention rei
ncarnate during the Path’s next cycle, doesn’t seem quite as terrible as it does to us.”

  “That’s awful,” Jenzara replied. “I hope the Angelic are just a story—they don’t sound like a people I’d ever want to meet.”

  Erem only shrugged again, though he had to suppress a sardonic chuckle. He saw no point insisting that she accept the Angelics’ existence. His own life would be far easier if they didn’t exist, that was for sure. The boy, for his part, didn’t seem nearly as concerned over this part of the tale as Jenzara.

  “I can’t say I disagree with you,” Erem continued. “But regardless of your qualms with the Conclave’s tactics, the point is moot. None of the Seven were interested in giving up their lives of luxury.

  “This left Falconwing with a quandary. The Angelic were forbidden from killing another of their kind, regardless of offense, so he couldn’t simply put them to death. Perhaps when you live almost forever, death seems too extreme a punishment for almost anything. But the harm the Seven were causing to the Path was too severe to let them continue. So Falconwing came up with an alternative, worse than death if you ask me. He determined to banish them to the Elsewhere.”

  The boy laughed. “The Elsewhere? You mean the imaginary fairy land where parents threaten to send disobedient children? Surely not.”

  Erem narrowed his eyes, brows contracting into his spectacles. “I might not believe some of the Church’s teachings. But the Elsewhere is real.”

  This came out perhaps more harshly than he’d intended. But if this pair were to become embroiled in Agarsfar’s struggles between light and dark, there were certain things they needed to understand. He stared from Ferrin to Jenzara, daring them to challenge the statement. They remained silent.

  “The Elsewhere is the empty space that exists beyond the True Path. The riverbed and banks along which the river flows, if you will. Or the endless void beyond its far shores. Little is known of it, but the Church posits that it must exist, for the Path itself must rest on something. There cannot be a road without terrain to build it upon. The Elsewhere is that terrain.

  “So Falconwing fought and defeated each of the Seven. As the legend goes, the Raging Mountains were formed as a result of his duel with the Sevens’ leader, the one who the histories now remember simply as Messorem.”

  The pair shuddered simultaneously at this. He suppressed a smile when he saw Jenzara clutch for Ferrin’s hand.

  “After Falconwing defeated them, he used his ability to channel all five elements—peregrination the Angelic call it—to open a small tear in time itself, and transported each of the Seven through the rift into the Elsewhere. He then sealed the tear, preventing them from ever returning to the Path.

  “But Falconwing’s plan was flawed. One does not simply tear open time itself, no matter how small the rip may be, and no matter how powerful the one doing the ripping. Fully healing a tear in time is near impossible.”

  “Imagine that,” Ferrin drawled.

  Erem frowned but decided to ignore him.

  “Falconwing’s patches slowly gave way. Whether because seven of the most powerful Angelics were on the other side trying to rip open the seal, or simply because even one as powerful as an Angel cannot stitch closed a hole in time, no one is sure. Probably some combination of the two.

  “The only saving grace was that once one has been banished to the Elsewhere and existed free of the True Path, resyncing with normal time is nearly impossible. So even though the rift Falconwing had created did not heal, the Seven were unable to reenter our world. But that didn’t stop them from asserting their influence over it. For while none of the four prime elements can traverse the Path-Elsewhere barrier, shadow can. There’s no definitive explanation, but some speculate that the shadow can cross because it originates from the Elsewhere.”

  “What?” the boy interrupted once more. “So the children’s tales that call the Elsewhere a land of shadow? They’re literally true?”

  “All stories originate in truth,” Erem replied.

  Ferrin shook his head and let out a long breath but said no more. Erem went on.

  “If you accept the theory of the Elsewhere’s relation to the True Path, the idea of shadow coming from there makes sense. Just as the Path must exist on, or in, something, the four prime elements must exist within something. That something is shadow, the fifth element. The space between the four primes, or the absence of the four primes, if you prefer.”

  “I prefer none of this,” Jenzara said sourly.

  Erem shot Jenzara a glance that caused her to look away. “The truth leaves no room for preference,” he said. Then, continuing in a softer tone, “And this theory also makes sense when you consider all the trouble shadow causes us here on the True Path. Shades? Lesser Terrors? Shadow Hearts? Even ebon ore. All shadow based. It’s because shadow is the only element the exiled Seven can touch in the Elsewhere. So they use it as their vehicle for vengeance.

  “And ride it they did. Once Falconwing’s seals failed, it was a near extinction-level event for the Angelic. Horrors from the Elsewhere would step into this world, slay multiple Angels, then vanish back into the ether from whence they came. Worse yet, those slain Angels would sometimes rise, transformed into agents of hate controlled by the Seven. And with the knowledge of the Angelics still buried somewhere within them, they wreaked even more havoc. It’s these that we now refer to as Lesser Terrors. Some survive to this day.”

  “Absolutely not,” Jenzara insisted. “After what I saw you do, I’m willing to suspend some disbelief. But Terrors? No. Too far.”

  “They exist Jenzara,” Erem said, in a firm, but not unkind tone. “I have battled them. And you heard one, not two days past.”

  Her face paled. Ferrin placed a hand over the half-healed wound on his shoulder but remained silent. Perhaps revealing that fact had not been prudent. But too often the truth was inconvenient. Sometimes bravery was little more than accepting that. And they’d all need bravery aplenty in the days ahead.

  “There were never many Angelics to begin with. Even the highest estimates place the total population before the Cataclysm at a few hundred. Being virtually immortal, they’d never needed to worry about growing their ranks. So every Angelic lost to the Seven was a serious setback.

  “The Angels retaliated as best they could, but even their victories were hollow, for the Seven could always send another attack from the void, often waiting for Angels to gather in small groups, or slowly picking them off individually. Attempted attacks into the Elsewhere were futile. The workings of that place are foreign to us of the Path, even the Angelic. Those sent through the rift never returned. But the Elsewhere had become home for the Seven. They understood its workings, turned their prison into a fortress.”

  “But hadn’t they only been there a short time?” Ferrin asked.

  “A fair point. But remember, time doesn’t work there as it does here. For all we know, what seemed a brief time here may have been an eternity, even multiple eternities, in the Elsewhere.

  “In the end, it was the Path itself that saved the Angelics from annihilation. The Seven’s attacks caused so much damage to the Path it eventually fractured. My teacher described it as a rope snapping under too much strain: The whole rope was still there, but it had separated into individual strands. A totally useless state. You can also think of it as a river flowing down too many tributaries that never reconnect. Before long, the river’s little more than a bog, then gone altogether. This is what the Angelic call a Chaos Event—a complete break in the Path. The worst kind of disaster the Path can sustain. This break was called the Great Chaos because, as far as anyone knows, it is the only one that has ever occurred.

  “Ironically, the Path’s fracture also blocked the original rift in time Falconwing had created, largely preventing the Seven from exerting their influence on the True Path; our world. But this benefit nearly didn’t matter, for time as we know it was nearly eradicated, consumed by the Elsewhere. During a Chaos, the Elsewhere begin
s to seep onto the Path like water through a leaking dike. Thankfully, in the end, the Angelic were able to stanch the wound—knot it back together—steering a myriad of events such that enough individual strands were reattached, returning continuity to the Path. But who knows how many souls were simply wiped from existence due to those changes? Not merely killed. Annihilated. Like they’d never existed at all. It’s conceivable that entire cities existed before the Great Chaos which no one knows of today because, after the changes to the Path the Angelic were forced to make, they actually never existed.”

  “They existed but they never existed?” Jenzara said, furrowing her brow.

  Erem nodded. “That is precisely the problem with a break in the Path. Paradoxes. You’re right, there is no way to explain a thing simultaneously existing and not, a Samtimis as the Angels called it in the old tongue. That’s why the Great Chaos was so terrible. And while the Angelic staved off complete disaster, the True Path has never been the same. Whereas before the Great Chaos, the Path simply went on uninterrupted in its singular pattern, since the Chaos, strands are constantly fraying off. Many of these are minor, easily corrected, sometimes by the Path itself. But others are more severe, requiring intervention lest they fester and cause another Chaos Event. And the only way to make such purposeful corrections to the Path when it’s unable to correct itself is to make subtle—sometimes even not-so-subtle—changes to lesser events on the Path. These changes are calculated to nudge the rogue strand back into the True Path. Almost like changing the course of a ship not by moving the rudder, but by changing the terrain of the river itself.

  “Thus, we’ve been left with a Path dotted with certain events that must occur—the Constants. They’re the knots in the rope representing the Path, linking it together. Dams directing time’s flow. Points at which the Angelic reassembled the Path after the Great Chaos. They cannot be undone or the Path will fracture once more.