Soul Stealer: Legacy of the Blade

by Joseph J. Bailey

“And how do you propose we catch a demonic wizard with access to fell sorceries and arcane Arts?

  “One whose might was sufficient to slay even you?”

  I could almost feel Alric’s smile.

  “We lure it into our trap.”

  Fantastic.

  We were about to go fishing for an extradimensional monstrosity.

  With me as bait.

  I sat outside the gates of Balde, my legs crossed, the Angel Sword lying across my lap. The cool, moist earth of the trader’s path that led away from the village had saturated my pants long ago and the chill crept up my legs. The town was secured behind me, its irregular rooftops barely visible above the high wall sheltering its citizens.

  The onlookers who had come to gawk at me from behind the wall’s protections had finally retired to their homes. Some had come to see the rumored spectacle of the outcast now said to be wielding an Angel Sword. Others had lined the walls to watch what befell anyone foolish enough to tempt fate when a skin dancer was on the loose. Others, those few who had not gotten their fill from the earlier proceedings, had come just to taunt me.

  Now they were gone.

  I knew they would be back to check on my progress, or remains, in the morning.

  With Jon suspended and reprimanded for his past behavior, the guard on duty refrained from the usual taunts and jibes that accompanied my evening excursions.

  At least in that regard they were better behaved than many of the populace they watched over.

  Unfortunately, their regard did little to help my situation.

  I was, in every sense, a sitting duck.

  Or a quack.

  I was counting on Alric’s uncanny senses to function through my own and give me fair warning of the demon’s approach should I miss it.

  My mind’s eye open, I watched the essence of night flow around me, tendrils of ethereal fog binding ground to sky and everything between.

  Alric’s admonitions from earlier came back to me. “Until you gain some measure of control over your abilities, you must refrain from touching the demon lest its essence become your own.

  “If our plan succeeds, do not approach the demon or make contact with its earthly host, whether alive or dead.”

  Forewarned, I had agreed.

  The last thing I wanted was to be near a demon, much less to come in contact with one.

  While I waited, growing ever colder, hungrier, and sleepier, which I gathered were the holy triumvirate of guard duty, I asked Alric, “Is Loer’allon alive?”

  I could just make out my reflection on her surface through the blade’s lambency as I peered into her depths.

  “In the sense all things are alive...imbued with the divine, the spark of magic. Loer’allon just burns brighter, more intense. Here are the fires of the universe’s creation before it cooled.”

  “And these are the fires that slay demons?”

  “Aye. These are the fires that consume demonic essences as fuel to her flames. The greater the source, the more intense the blaze.”

  Funny, she did not feel hot to the touch.

  So much for my dreams of warmth.

  A Shadow This Way Comes

  Because I had done my best to avoid nodding off, my head snapped to attention as I felt a disturbance in the essence.

  Shadows morphed and shifted tremulously on the clearing’s edge, molten liquid shrinking away from the approach of something wicked from the wood.

  Although I did not want to, I had a distinct idea as to what it was.

  “Stay calm.

  “Do not react or draw the Al’zakara’s ire until it is in position and the moment is right.

  “Give yourself the opportunity to succeed.”

  The right moment?

  Nothing about this was right.

  The only success I could foresee was surviving this lunacy by running away at full speed to the town gates begging for entry, and even that chance was but a wan mirage quickly fading into the stark desolation of dreams past.

  The luminous lights infusing the dark wood with celestial energies slowly began to recoil, pushed back in terror or abhorrence of the blight treading within its shadows.

  I felt dirty, soiled, just by experiencing the thing’s presence even from a distance.

  “Did someone come out to play?” A horrific voice, dissonant notes colliding like dying stars, taunted me with its approach.

  I wanted to do nothing more than cover my ears, to curl up and hide.

  Not reaching up my hands to block out the alien voice was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

  And this was supposed to be the easy part.

  “Hold your silence.

  “This is an entity of true power. Speaking out may provide a window into your soul.”

  Well, that was encouraging.

  “You will be safe from its beguilements so long as your gates are sealed and you remain within Loer’allon’s aegis.”

  I had no idea what a gate was, but I kept my mouth shut.

  That I could manage.

  What lurched from the wood over fifty paces away could not be called remotely human.

  That the thing had ever been human made my mind go to places it would rather not visit.

  Swollen, discolored, and distended, like a bloated corpse left to rot in full sun for days, the former wizard skittered out of the wood with motions that were entirely unnatural. His movements appeared to be sped up through time, skipping from one instant to the next with no point in between. Like a rock deflecting over the surface of water as it skipped, the wizard’s malformed body barely touched the ground, bouncing from location to location with little regard to gravity or its tread.

  Though the man’s physical state was horrific, through my mind’s eye the situation was far worse.

  Power oozed from his body like blood from an open wound, swathes of black energy pulsing outward—an oil slick soiling anything it touched. Two rows of paired reptilian eyes floated vertically amidst the demonic halo, steady and unwavering amongst the vitreous corruption.

  All those eyes were locked on me.

  I wanted to avert my gaze, to block out what I saw, to wipe my memory clean and never see it again.

  I felt corrupted, and I was not even close to the thing.

  “Perhaps the time for a new host has come…”

  Breaking the tableau, the creature’s awful words snapped me out of my trance.

  By the farthest reaches of the black Abyss, I was not going to let that happen!

  The thing came closer.

  Staying still took all the nerve I had and more.

  I was shaking.

  And it was not from adrenaline.

  “Stay calm. If it starts to cast an incantation or extend its power, make your move. Otherwise hold your position. Loer’allon is protecting you.”

  If this was protection, I would hate to experience the fell thing’s presence without Loer’allon’s aegis.

  At least I had not yet soiled myself.

  Unlike the town guard who had, until recently, been watching from the ramparts behind me.

  Grass withered beneath the demon’s feet as it lurched unnaturally toward me from the forest—a predator with all the time in the world to catch its prey.

  I gulped.

  I held my breath, the bobbing of my Adam’s apple my only noticeable movement.

  “That toy will not protect you from the likes of me, mortal.

  “I have already slain the blade’s true master.

  “Do not think you can use it against me where he failed.

  “I will rend your soul from your flesh just like I did his.”

  The thing was closer now…terribly near.

  I shivered.

  The black gulf of its aura was oozing around the luminous halo of Loer’allon’s protections.

  “Now!”

  “Lucius!”

  From the center of the clearing, immediately beneath the demon’s feet, Lucius, my pet rock and earth elem
ental, exploded upward towards the heavens, through the wizard’s distended body.

  A shower of gore and ichor rained down on the clearing.

  The demon’s shriek of pain and rage brought tears to my eyes, its nebulous nimbus writhing and thrashing frenetically in agony.

  Lashing out, I sliced through the black cloud enveloping me with Loer’allon’s aureate edge.

  The world exploded in light, the demon screeched even louder, if such a thing were possible, and I blacked out.

  Before darkness fully took me, I wondered if fainting would be my last noble act among the living.

  On Waking

  My eyes blinked feebly, reluctantly, refusing to open.

  An incandescent whiteness burned through my eyelids.

  Had I died?

  Was this the Light of Heaven?

  Did Loer’allon’s radiance persist in the darkness shielding me from the demon’s presence?

  “Wake up.

  “You acquitted yourself nobly.”

  I groaned.

  “Lucius did most of the work,” I mumbled.

  “Lucius’s work was your idea, and a very clever one at that.”

  “How do you think I survived in the woods outside the town walls all these years? Lucius had my back.”

  “And you had Lucius’s…and the guile to survive.”

  I was lying untouched in the rough dirt of the trail leading out from the town gates. Apparently no one had ventured out yet to check on me.

  So much for appreciation and adulation.

  In fairness, probably and somewhat reasonably, the townsfolk were waiting to make sure I had not been taken over by the demon.

  It’s what I would have done were I in their place.

  It stunk.

  The clearing smelled like death left to fester and rot amid a sea of refuse…that refused to fully decay.

  If possible, the wizard’s corpse appeared to have bloated even further.

  “I suggest burning the corpse. The cleansing flames will remove any remaining demonic taint.”

  Great.

  More work.

  I called out, “Mind throwing me some wood to build a pyre?”

  I knew people were watching cautiously from the gates.

  I could sense them.

  Why was my soul sight open?

  I could not seem to turn it off.

  Standing in place for several minutes, I tried to close my inner vision and failed.

  “Your eyes are open to a wider world and cannot be closed. I am sorry.

  “This is one of many changes you may be forced to endure.”

  Fantastic.

  More excitement to look forward to.

  “Although you may wish it were not so, this change will allow you to sense demonic presences and beguilements.

  “In the days to come, your inner vision will be the key to keeping you alive.”

  Joy of joys!

  More was expected of me!

  At least the normal gloom and desolation of the northern reaches was brightened by the intrinsic energies struggling to regain a footing after the demon’s unwelcome visitation.

  I heard the heavy thunk of wood being dropped onto packed earth behind me.

  Sighing, I trudged over to the gate and began slogging the timbers toward the wizard’s vile corpse.

  “Thanks,” I muttered to the guard warily peering down at me while I worked.

  Up in Smoke

  The wizard’s body returned to the heavens in gray ash and soot, a dark, oily column spiraling upward with only the faintest regard for the whims of the wind.

  Following the smoke, I watched my past vanish into the breeze.

  A new future opened before me, one filled with the promise of Light but the expectation of Darkness.

  I did not wish to enter or accept this new reality.

  So lost was I in the gloom of my inner struggles and ruminations, I did not notice that a crowd had gathered around me in silent, respectful witness to my vigil.

  I guessed they had decided I was not a demon.

  That was a good thing, because the last thing I needed right then was an arrow, sword, or spear in the back.

  I had felt enough pain already.

  A hand came to rest firmly on my shoulder.

  “You have done this town a great service, Saedeus.”

  Mason.

  Mason was one of the good ones. He had always given fair prices for mushrooms while others had tried to swindle me.

  I knew the value of my goods…how rare some were…how sought after.

  “I didn’t have much choice, Mase.”

  Mason smiled, his gray beard cracking with a gentle grin. “We all have a choice, son, and you made a good one. I’m proud of you.

  “If more acted as you did, standing up for their beliefs, this world might be a better place.”

  I did not have the heart to tell him I was not standing up for anything, that I had little choice, and, though many had access to magic, few had boons such as Loer’allon’s.

  Instead, I muttered a weak, “Thanks.”

  “Mine is the thanks to give.”

  He offered me a bundle wrapped in oilcloth.

  “What’s this?”

  “Something to help you on your way, wherever it takes you.”

  The bundle was surprising light for its bulk.

  “Is it a jacket?” I supposed that I would need a proper coat or cloak if I were to venture into the wilds…not that I knew exactly what was yet to come.

  “Of sorts. It’s a chainmail jerkin that I’ve had for some time. It’s been gathering dust now that I’m too old to use it. It has a few enchantments ensorcelled into its links. You’ll need it more than I.”

  Would I?

  Couldn’t I just go back to my mushrooms?

  Was this how quests, grand adventures, and great deeds commenced?

  The heavy weight of expectation pushing the brave, or, in my case, the not so brave, onward onto a course of ever greater challenge?

  Couldn’t I just step back before all that began?

  All I really needed to do was make sure the Angel Sword got back into the proper hands, those that could and would willingly use Loer’allon to her full abilities in just cause.

  “If that is what you wish, then that is all you need do, Saedeus.

  “But I think Loer’allon has already chosen.”

  What about my choices?

  What about my desires?

  “Those have yet to be made and fully expressed.”

  So now Alric claimed to know me better than I knew myself.

  I was in no mood to argue with myself.

  Alric.

  I was in no mood to argue with Alric.

  My sigh fell on deaf ears as the gathered townspeople came to congratulate me, offer their respects, and give their thanks.

  I just wanted to go home.

  Home Sweet Heap

  Now that I had been away for a few days, coming back home was something of a disappointment.

  I missed my jail cell.

  In retrospect, staying outside in the cold waiting for the soul-devouring demon did not seem so bad.

  My house looked like an ill-kempt compost heap.

  No, that was too kind.

  My shack looked like a nightmarish refuse pile scoured over with supernatural encrustations.

  I could see why demons left me alone in this place.

  It was so nasty and appalling even hellspawn would not want to come close.

  Well, that and Lucius.

  If they could sense his elemental presence, that of one of their natural enemies, and I knew they could if he let them, then demons had ample reason to steer clear of my most great and noble trash heap.

  Plus, I seldom bathed.

  There was that.

  Surely that was a deterrent of some sort.

  And not just to demons.

  At least now I did not have to bother with opening the front door to get in.r />
  I trudged up to the entrance and stepped over the threshold into the clutter that was my home. Fresh piles of leaves and debris had found their way inside in my absence.

  After making some room where there was hardly any to be found, I propped my door back up against its frame and plopped down on my now broken bed.

  If I planned to stay, I might eventually try to fix the place up a bit, but since I wasn’t, I would let it be.

  If, after attempting one impossible task in the restoration of Alric’s sword to its rightful owners, I decided that I needed another, then I might add the repair of my hovel to the bucket list of things I would not be doing.

  Being a mushroom hunter, appreciating the enormity of what I had accomplished in the state of my hut, I fancied that my house would persist latched onto the outside of Balde’s fortifying wall like a particularly large, ornamental bracket fungus, gradually accreting more mushrooms as it grew on the outer bole of the town wall.

  If I ever came back during some distant epoch in the future, I imagined my house—a vibrant living thing—would have prospered in my absence, the fungal spores growing and spreading, replenishing and supplementing one another, perhaps one day reinforcing the entirety of Balde’s wall itself.

  Regardless what the fair citizens of Balde wanted or wished.

  Such were my aspirations and dreams.

  Unfortunately, I had a sword to return.

  And a demon-infested continent to cross to do it.

  Lying down on my lumpy, ill-formed mattress, I closed my eyes to sleep and gave myself up willingly to dreams.

  Tomorrow there would be glad tidings of journeys to come, leavetakings, and the abandonment of hovels better left incinerated.

  Leave-Taking

  I woke up covered in sweat, aching and exhausted.

  Nights were no longer my own.

  Whenever I closed my eyes, hoping to lose myself in sleep, in vistas and vagaries of dreams, forgetting the rigors and disappointments of the day, Alric took over.

  He guided me through remembrances of drills including donning and repairing armor, how to handle a blade, the proper ways to maintain a sword, demonstrations of countless forms of hand-to-hand combat, defense against single attackers both armed and unarmed, responses to multiple opponents in more unpleasant situations than I would care to encounter in several lifetimes, and dealing with untold numbers of supernatural horrors even worse than nightmares.