Soul Stealer: Legacy of the Blade

by Joseph J. Bailey

  Even as far north as we were on the outskirts of civilization in Balde, tales filtered northward of humanity’s heroics.

  As brave and formidable as the Empyrean Knights were, there were others far braver, for they fought on without the knight’s strength and power. These warriors fought not for themselves but for our common future.

  Their valor allowed the rest of us to live.

  Being the coward I was, I cannot say I agreed with their methods or would participate, but I was glad to reap the benefits if it helped us survive a little longer.

  There were the J’andre Fulminants whose order relied on the willing self-sacrifice of its members to lure demonic entities into themselves, temporarily binding the demons within while the order’s wizards blasted the possessing demons into oblivion. Fanatics came to the order in droves to willingly sacrifice themselves, feeling that their offerings not only helped cleanse the Uërth but would help resanctify Heaven after Its fall.

  No less effective but equally fanatical, the Uërthen Stoics cast their souls out of their bodies into consecrated reliquaries to make them immune to demonic infestation. Similar magics augmented their bodies, often beyond recognition, so that the Stoics could fight face-to-face with demons and prevail.

  The Priests of D’almere practiced imbuing themselves with holy Light until they became living embodiments of divine energies. At the highest levels of attainment, it was rumored Priests could face off against the mightiest demon princes and triumph. Unfortunately, with this gradual ascension, many of the D’almere lost their ties to the material plane and ascended to other realms.

  Within the fey races, the dryads, the sidhe, and their kin, myriad ways of power outside mortal ken vied with demonic incursion, holding the infernals at bay on land and sea. My own home within fair Silvaeron benefited in part from such fearsome magics.

  The Elemantus Magisterium, the Elemental Speakers, bonded deeply with elemental forces and called on the spirits of the land to fight against demons from earth to sky. Their bond and control was far greater than anything I enjoyed with Lucius, though I am certain Lucius would say that I played second harp to no one. So great was their rapport with elemental powers that the Magisterium were able to transform into elementals themselves and rain destruction upon the demonic hordes.

  Numerous species of dragons banded together in common cause, throwing aside old enmities to bring their mighty roars to the chorus of those who willingly fought against extradimensional assault. Tales of draconid heroics leading the charge and rallying the motley legions of Uërth on the Front were the stuff of legend.

  These heroes and many others like them helped slow the tide of demonic incursion.

  But, despite these heroes’ valiant efforts, the demons continued to push forward through the Chaos Gate and then outward into Uërth beyond.

  Whenever one demon fell, more were ready to take its place.

  I was, on the other hand, not ready to take anyone’s place.

  I wanted to return Loer’allon and find a place safe enough to hide while the real heroes took care of business.

  My entrepreneurial spirit was rather low.

  I Find Myself Here Because?

  Why exactly was I doing this?

  What did I hope to accomplish?

  Loer’allon could take care of herself. For all I knew, the sword had existed since the beginning of time.

  My track record could do little to improve on that.

  I was under no obligation to help Alric. If anything, he had steered me away from my present course, instead encouraging me to take the mantle offered by Loer’allon and become an Empyrean Knight. My journey southward could, in fact, be viewed as a knightly pilgrimage or quest, or some masochistic training exercise, so Alric was still getting what he wanted whether I accepted his offer or not. Similarly, his constant coaching and words of advice could easily be viewed as teachings to help me become a knight errant embodying the ideals he so clearly espoused.

  In sum, as was the norm, I was in a lose-lose situation where no matter what I did, the outcome was not exactly what I wanted.

  Quite the opposite.

  I am always the proverbial fly caught in the spider’s web. Only, in my case, I can fashion my own web, entrap myself, and create a spider to cause untold difficulties just by being myself.

  Despite my struggles with arcane magic, there is a lesson here.

  I am a magician. I can conjure the means of my suffering with a surety and skill that would be the envy of the greatest wizard.

  I am magical.

  Like unicorns.

  Except different.

  Now that’s something to be proud of...

  Or not.

  Waylaid

  Lucius wanted out of his pocket.

  I gulped.

  That was never a good sign.

  I reached into my tunic, my hand only shaking slightly, feeling the hard metal rings of my armor through the fabric beneath my fingers as my hand settled around Lucius’s cool, burnished stone surface.

  I dropped Lucius to my side.

  He stopped abruptly mid-fall, halting his downward trajectory at thigh height.

  Hovering next to me, floating about an arm’s length away, Lucius matched the pace of my strides across the dusty, hard-packed road.

  I left no visible footprints.

  Over the past few days, the forests had thinned with more obvious signs of former human habitation. Burnt fields stretched away from the road on either side, the land unclaimed by the derelict cottages crumbling within their midst. Denuded trees crackled and snapped in the wind. Between patches of bare dirt, scraggly plants slumped in the irregular ditches lining either side of the road.

  Everything looked parched and in need of water.

  What life was here was thin and wan, sapped of vitality and expression.

  This place was demon haunted.

  And I was here.

  Alone.

  “You are not alone, Saedeus.

  “You never are and you never will be.”

  Looking left and right, I saw no one else here.

  Just my pet rock.

  I think Alric was overlooking something.

  His reassurances did little to settle my nerves.

  “Trust in your allies and training.

  “All will be well.”

  Allies?

  Had Alric missed what I’d just seen?

  Empty fields.

  An abandoned roadway.

  No one but me, my shadow, and a small hovering rock.

  And out there…demons.

  I could feel them.

  They were a shadow I could not quite see…disturbances in the essence that were not right, like an oil slick on water whose presence only showed up in the right light when viewed from the proper angle.

  They were the darkness within the shadows’ heart…the depthless gloom hiding in plain sight that screamed of fear, terror, and doom. They howled of the end of things, of man’s cosmic impotence, and unbridled, insane rage.

  And they were everywhere.

  I wiped my sweating palms on my tunic.

  Bravely.

  At least give me credit for that.

  Plodding up the long rise that now delayed my progress and urged my legs to work harder against their will, I was in no rush to see the next tragedy that was about to befall me.

  I knew it was coming and was in no hurry to meet it.

  Lucius began to twirl.

  His dizzying motion generated a faint hum.

  I only hoped that his thrumming, rotational vibration meant something like, “BEGONE, DEMONS!

  “YOUR REIGN HERE IS AT AN END!

  “YOUR TIME IS NIGH!

  “I AM YOUR DESTINY AND ANNIHILATION!

  “RUN IN FEAR OR FACE MY WRATH!”

  The humming sound slowly faded as Lucius’s rotational velocity increased and the sounds of his movement passed into octaves I could not hear.

  I did not sense any demons l
eaving posthaste.

  Nor did I sense any response in the local canine community.

  Apparently the dogs could not hear Lucius’s high-pitched whistle either.

  I was not alone in that at least.

  Small rocks began to gather about Lucius in a whirling, tornadic cloud.

  I was proud of my pet rock.

  I wanted to pat him on the head… Since he did not have a head, his top would do, but I did not want to lose a hand.

  Some gestures are not worth the risk.

  Touching a magically reinforced elemental stone moving at speeds I could not register would not be wise, especially if I wanted to keep my hand.

  Having only two, I complimented my little tornado instead. “Thanks, Lucius. The air has been rather still. I needed a breeze.”

  Lucius spun faster.

  I wanted to risk getting closer to show my approval for his efforts and soak in the refreshing draught but the thought of instant death held me back.

  So much for my gratitude.

  By the time we reached the hill’s top, I could no longer see Lucius. I knew he was there, however. In my mind’s eye, a furiously blazing ball of magical forces surged frenetically next to me as I walked.

  I focused everything I had on not tripping.

  Stumbling toward Lucius would not be good.

  On the bright side, if I did fall on Lucius, Loer’allon would be able to find a new master without having to travel all the way to Kerraboer.

  I always looked on the bright side.

  Call me Bright Mind, Lord of the Optimists.

  Or Saedeus.

  I will answer to both.

  Upon cresting the rise, I noticed two things.

  First the view opened expansively onto a broad valley bisected by the iridescent strand of a wide, snaking river. At the valley’s center, far ahead along the road’s path, a city nestled within the comforts of a shimmering dome of force.

  Surprisingly, the city looked untouched by the desolation lying all around it.

  Inside this sphere of eldritch energies, the world appeared as it once had—the land was lush and green, covered with tiered fields and tall trees while many colored pennons swirled in an invisible wind on high walls unbroken by strife. Soaring behind the city walls, delicate towers of lambent crystal, appearing made of artfully spun glass, thrust heavenward while the distant specks of minuscule people moved freely through wide boulevards and avenues.

  The swirling dome was a window into another time.

  Much closer, across barren ground choked on dust and desolation, a disparate band of armored warriors blocked my passage ahead.

  Or at least what one might have assumed were warriors at first glance.

  I was not just anyone.

  Being a natural coward—I prefer the term survivalist—I tended to look closely for many details that might be easily overlooked in a given situation, details that might prove the difference between life and death.

  Wanting to live, I paid attention.

  I was also astute.

  Meaning even I could not miss the true nature of the small horde that had materialized on the highway, ready to rend me limb from limb.

  To say the creatures had once been, or might have once been, human would be a far stretch of the imagination…at least an imagination as limited as my own. Scabrous faces twisted and disfigured by past torture glared at me through the heat haze separating us. Slouched shoulders terminating in desiccated arms perched atop twisted, broken spines that remained unconcerned by my unsteady approach. Rotten flesh fell away in irregular clumps. Broken swords, rusty spears, dented shields, and scarred maces created an irregular picket of hostile intent.

  I was facing a minor undead horde.

  Although to my eyes, the force arrayed before me was anything but minor.

  Preparing myself for combat, I retched.

  Feeling much better and almost combat ready, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, glad that at least one unfortunate inevitable event in the upcoming confrontation was out of the way.

  The undead, however, were the least of my worries.

  Binding the broken figures together in a viscous, tarry haze was an unholy eidolon of despair. The thing sucked in the life force of the living and trapped it within its hellish folds. From this distance, the animated corpses appeared to emanate from within the fiendish haze of the creature, their bodies weaving through a sticky, cloying fog.

  I knew better, feeling the reality to my core.

  That hungry, flowing mass was the demon that barred my passage.

  It hunted here on the roadway, killing any who tried to approach the city for safety or succor, staying far enough away to avoid reprisal and choosing to act only on those victims weak enough to add to its strength. In time, perhaps with enough unfortunate innocents caught in its web, the demon would grow strong enough to assault the very city itself with an army of undead.

  I did not know for certain, but I could guess.

  All I knew was that this thing was in my way.

  It would not let me leave.

  And I had already vomited.

  Alric’s voice was a low whisper. “’Ware the infernal cloud, Saedeus.

  “Let Loer’allon shield you from the grasping demonic tendrils and the Ysigoth’s magic will not ensnare you.”

  Drawing Loer’allon from her scabbard with a faint ringing chime as her luminous blade vibrated resonantly against the case, I prepared to cut the strings of the puppet master holding the gathered tormented souls in thrall.

  I charged.

  To be clear, I had no intention of rushing headlong into the milling throngs of waiting undead.

  I would be torn apart.

  Even if I were the world’s greatest swordsman, I would probably still be slashed to ribbons.

  Without true magical skill or enchantments to shield me, I would be skewered and sliced like the main course at a harvest festival.

  The demon, however, did not have to know that.

  But I did.

  Which is why I did not exactly run at full speed.

  The hill was, after all, rather steep.

  And I was not exactly in tourney shape.

  Lucius, on the other hand, was not slowed by the grade.

  Nor was he encumbered by armor or the weight of a large, cumbersome body.

  Or a fear-laden consciousness that dragged with a decidedly heavy weight.

  In fact, I think incoming meteorites consulted with him on descent vectors and velocities.

  The zombies had skipped that consultation.

  They were not, however, immune to the impacts of a magical object moving with the speed of an interstellar body entering Uërth’s orbit.

  The road ahead got very messy, very quickly.

  Suffice it to say that the horrific demonic pall was not the only mist clouding the air.

  Loer’allon shrouded my body in shimmering white light as I ran forward, what I liked to think of as my anti-demon zone.

  By the time I reached the frenzied mass of limbs, swords, maces, and shields that was the undead horde, all the frenzy was gone.

  There were just parts…lots of parts.

  The demon, however, was rather agitated.

  It surged and crested over the holy nimbus protecting me in an inky tidal wave, devouring all light and sense of place. I could only see the space defined by Loer’allon’s shield, a region of uninteresting dirt encompassing about one step forward and one step backward.

  Swinging wildly, that is to say with supreme skill and pinpoint accuracy, I tore ragged gaps through the demonic essence, rending its black heart apart. Each of Loer’allon’s strikes shriveled the demonic darkness ever smaller, burning off entire sloughs of the fell entity like sheets of paper before an open flame.

  I did not wish to touch that amorphous extradimensional mass in any way for fear of taking some of it into myself.

  Although Lucius proved somewhat ineffectual against the demon itself, hi
s rapid strikes merely punching holes through the thing’s vile shroud, those numerous strikes began to take their toll over time as the demon was literally torn to shreds by Lucius’s whirling blows and then burnt away in heavenly light by Loer’allon.

  By the time I was done flailing the air, cleansing the last of the demonic taint that Lucius helped me corral in place, I was sweating so profusely that I could barely keep my eyes open without blinking.

  Wiping the stinging salt from my eyes as I threaded my way from the mangled mass of bodies beneath my feet, I caught my foot on the edge of a shield.

  The last thing I remember was the ground hurtling up to meet me as I fell awkwardly face first toward a large wooden cudgel.

  Headache

  My head throbbed.

  My eyes were encrusted shut and refused to open.

  I tried swallowing, but my mouth and throat were a vast desert that had not seen moisture in decades.

  I smelled of rot, vomit, and decay.

  I heard the buzzing of flies.

  Finally managing to open my eyes, I saw that my head was crammed between a dead man’s armpit and a rusty, discarded helm.

  The flies swirled around me lovingly, caressing my skin gently before rising in the air in an adulatory hymn, worshipping a fallen god.

  Another day in the life of one of Uërth’s mightiest heroes.

  Lucius regarded me from his stoic perch atop my chest.

  He was absolutely spotless.

  “Thanks for looking out for me,” I croaked.

  His stony regard remained unwavering.

  “I know,” I finally managed. “It is rather embarrassing.”

  He agreed.

  He did not approve of my passing out.

  Repeatedly.

  “On the bright side, I seem to be pretty good at losing consciousness.

  “And you make up for the utter inanity of my martial displays with yours.”

  His scowl turned rather smug.

  I gave a lopsided grin. “Stop gloating and get back in your pocket.”

  He did.

  I patted his pocket with one aching arm. “And thanks for looking out for me while I was out.”

  Lucius snuggled close in his approximation of a hug.