Soul Stealer: Legacy of the Blade

by Joseph J. Bailey

  Refusing to yield, refusing to pass out and away as I had so many times before, I did what I had yet to do.

  I drew in the energies of the dead and dying demons scattered in droves all around me.

  Their power became mine.

  I launched myself upward in a maelstrom of force, Light and Darkness wreathing me in an unholy alliance of annihilation.

  I exploded through the Duaga’s vacuous heart with an eruption of unholy energies.

  The Duaga never knew what hit it.

  To Not Be

  Too much.

  The lives of demons spread before me in an endless panorama of nihilitude, entire eternities of pain.

  The universe itself, Uërth beneath me, cried out against the travesty that was the demonic infestation inside me.

  The demons within howled and raged against the agony that consumed them, the need that filled them—the desire to consume the Light that tormented them, the necessity to destroy the source of the suffering and make Its power their own.

  Only through Light’s destruction could they live and their torture end.

  I was at the center of an eternal storm.

  And it was ripping me apart.

  Faint words reached me, the echo of forgotten memories. “You must not lose yourself, Saedeus.”

  A whisper. “This is a fight you cannot win.”

  Fainter. “Do not fight the demonic forces within…”

  Almost inaudible. “Let them go.”

  With a terrible sense of dislocation, as if the whole universe itself—my universe—was tearing apart, the agony unbearable, the effort excruciating, I did.

  Pandemonium reigned beneath me, an unhallowed sea of atramentous forces crashing in hungry tidal waves of annihilation.

  This was my psyche.

  This infernal tsunami was what I had brought inside my soul.

  The flickering light of my mind had nearly been consumed by the Duaga and the ravenous droves of its minions raging through the confines of my self, the depthless Abyss reaching up to claim me in everlasting subjugation.

  My mind a burning spark, a seething ember of the brightest sun, I cast myself into the deepest, most impenetrable tars of the demonic infestation.

  The universe detonated in Light and I was gone.

  Eyes Open

  I opened my eyes savagely, returning to life, to myself, with an undeniable certainty of purpose and an unflappable desire to live.

  Lying supine on the unyielding earth, I stared upward into an unclouded blue sky.

  The universe stared back impassively.

  The violent, eternal struggle within, the unending prison of demonic perception, the overwhelming feelings of hunger and desire, the experiences of unholy dimensions, of infernal mêlées, mastery and subjugation, of fell lore best forgotten, of the war against Light itself, went entirely unnoticed.

  I was a minor cause with little effect.

  One more agent of disorder in a greater universe that did not care if mine ended.

  “We are glad that you made it back, Saedeus.”

  Snap out of it!

  Alric’s words reaffirmed my place, provided a way back to myself, my sense of self, that I had lost under the struggles within.

  “How long have I been out?”

  I could barely form the words even in my own mind.

  “A few days.”

  Days!

  I closed my eyes wearily.

  The struggle within had been lifetimes!

  I had lived and relived demonic lives on this plane and others.

  I had participated in horrific rites and visited travesties upon unsuspecting worlds.

  I had consumed.

  I had destroyed.

  I had tried to unmake the universe in my own image.

  I had almost not come back.

  Flies buzzed around me eagerly, refusing to touch the demonic corpses I sensed nearby.

  “I don’t suppose our friends, the people we tried to save, hung around?”

  “They left rather quickly.”

  After all this time alone, the first people I had happened upon had left before I could even venture a greeting.

  What did I really expect?

  A thanks?

  A hearty welcome to travel in their merry band?

  Why would they bother to stay?

  Tarrying was just another risk.

  Why wait for more demons to come?

  I did not blame them for leaving.

  I would have done the same.

  I opened my eyes again.

  The universe regarded me somewhat more favorably.

  Or was that just me?

  All Not So Good Things Must Come to an End

  I tried to sit up.

  I failed.

  I must have burned off too much of myself, of my reserves, when I destroyed the mob of demons I had brought within.

  Gritting my teeth, I tried again.

  A waft of warm, soothing energy suffused me, easing my pain and enlivening me.

  Loer’allon.

  Or something different?

  I managed to sit up.

  A giant rock loomed in front of me obscuring at least a quarter of the horizon.

  Raynard?

  When I patted my chest to make certain he was in his preferred pocket, Lucius informed me that Raynard had been kind enough to guard me while I was incapacitated.

  His presence had discouraged any other demons from investigating the disturbance.

  I offered my sincerest thanks.

  Raynard remained unmoved.

  I could, however, see the intense elemental energies burning within his core.

  At least they moved.

  And none too happily.

  I would not want to be the next demon that chanced upon this field of contention.

  I stood slowly, placing a steadying hand on Raynard’s cool surface.

  I suppose things could be worse than having a greater elemental as a guardian.

  Giving Raynard one last appreciative pat, I surveyed the destruction.

  I had, I decided, done a rather fine job.

  The plains were seared and blackened in an area larger than many villages, and unidentifiable fragments of demonic entities were strewn as far as the eye could see.

  This was clearly a mess I had no intention or desire to clean up.

  Much like my shack.

  A small region in the center of the battleground remained untouched by the violence.

  This must have been where the band of travelers had made their stand against the demons.

  As I looked on, an apparition appeared in the air before me.

  The man bowed.

  He was broad-shouldered and armored in arcane plate. He held a visored helm in his right arm. His armor was etched in shimmering runes I could not identify that wavered and shifted of their own accord beneath his strong hands. He held himself with pride and ready confidence. In a single glance, I could tell he was formidable indeed.

  Although his dark-skinned face was worn and wrinkled by exposure to the sun, I could see that brightness yet danced in his steel gray eyes, his spirit unbroken by a troubled world.

  “Friend.

  “I am O’nila Lagund of the Scarlet Company.

  “Know that your arrival saved us.

  “We welcome your valiant deeds on our behalf and offer our sincerest gratitude in return.

  “Our debt cannot be repaid.

  “Though but a small token, our priest has placed a boon upon you to aid in your recovery.

  “Should you have need, we have left a bag with some supplies in the clearing.

  “We had hoped to be with you upon your wakening but cannot tarry longer, for our need is pressing and time is short.

  “If we meet again, we will show you the true thanks you deserve.

  “We are honored to have made your acquaintance, albeit briefly, and to have met one who would willingly dance with a Lord of Chaos.

  �
�Fare thee well, Knight of the Undying Light.”

  That was, I decided, rather a nice gesture.

  I wondered what they had left me.

  I prayed for cookies.

  And milk.

  Disappointment

  There were no cookies.

  I cannot say why this troubled me so much—my feelings were a well of disappointment that seemed to have no bottom.

  Really, who would leave a pack of goods for someone without cookies?

  Was not good, by its very definition, cookie?

  If I were to leave a pack for someone with all the true necessities for survival, cookies would certainly be present.

  Really, I countered, who packed cookies and carried them across an arid wasteland in anticipation of their eventual enjoyment before they went stale, or worse, were stolen by demons?

  Well, I continued, anyone with the capacity to hold off a small army of demons with arcane Craft could surely summon food.

  And, that being the case, what better food was there to summon, and then give as a gesture of goodwill, than cookies?

  Ergo, granted the fact that no other food source than cookies need be summoned, why would the Scarlet Company not choose to share their horde, especially with one who, by his own admission, had saved their lives?

  Some mysteries will never be solved.

  If I ever met the Scarlet Company again, if that was truly their name and not a clever ploy to keep me away from their gustatorial delights, I would ask them to share their cookies.

  Lucius snorted.

  Apparently he had no real appreciation for cookies.

  Unless he had eaten them in my absence!

  Mystery solved!

  Now I just needed to find the crumbs to provide the necessary evidence to prove my case!

  Sadly, even the crumbs were gone.

  I was, however, left with a bag filled with some of the most mouth-watering victuals I ever had the good fortune to devour.

  Even if there were no cookies.

  The Company was also kind enough to leave me a large pouch of the realm’s own coin.

  This would, without a doubt, allow me to buy quite the dragon’s horde of cookies.

  Or cakes.

  The Scarlet Company must have thought me rather in need of assistance to need so much coin.

  Which I was.

  I suppose I cut a rather sad, undapper figure in the bedraggled, castoff clothing I was now wearing after the demonic possession.

  Which was also true.

  I did, however, think the wandering vagrant look suited me.

  But my taste was rather unique, after all.

  Which explained the cookies.

  Relieving at least part of my need, I did find a nice pair of boots and a change of clothing in the bag which fit me perfectly.

  For that I was thankful.

  The bag also had the curious property of being much larger than the space it occupied…perhaps for optimal cookie storage.

  I made a mental note of that oddity.

  Next time a Lord of Chaos attacked, I might be better off hiding in the bag.

  With my cookies.

  Hills and Dells

  As I sprinted across the Wastes, Doeren Muer grew larger and larger with each unhindered stride.

  The new clothing, much like the Sigil Shield protecting me, was so comfortable, I did not even notice I had it on—which was something of an advantage because then I would never feel the need to take it off.

  Not that anyone would want me to take anything off.

  Some things were worse than demons.

  Or the absence of cookies.

  I never managed to catch up with the Scarlet Company.

  Either they had teleported ahead, could run faster than a horse at full gallop, had flown, or had taken another direction toward the Doeren Muer, assuming that was their ultimate destination.

  Of course, all of those things were actually possible, but seeing people run through the air faster than a horse sprinting at full tilt while teleporting was a rarity even in a world as warped as Uërth.

  I did, however, eagerly anticipate a chance observance.

  Sadly, such a fortuitous encounter did not happen on my trip to Heaven’s Edge.

  On a positive note, I did manage to make the mountain range alive, which was quite a bit more than I had originally anticipated.

  Sometimes you get lucky.

  Doeren Muer rose from the Infernal Wastes like a vast behemoth breaching the surface of an otherwise flat, untroubled sea. There were the wakes and eddies of the beast’s emergence in the rolling hills that flanked the great peaks, tumbling slopes that slowly dissipated into the vast, still waters of the plains themselves. The surging leviathan that was the Heaven’s Edge Range erupted upward from these eddies unconstrained by the bounds of the plain, pushing back the waters below in an unwavering leap for the sky, leaving behind the unknown depths that gave the mountains their birth. Mere rivulets running down the beasts’ vast flanks, the forests and waterways of the peaks ran down to the hillsides, slowing dispersing amongst the leading edges of the hills.

  By the time I reached the hills leading to the base of the mountains, I was ready for a change of scenery. Days upon days of crossing dry, dusty wasteland inhabited by soul-devouring demons put a damper on even my optimistic spirit.

  Not that I minded killing demons… It was the being killed, the almost being killed, the suffering, the torturing, the loss of friends and possessions—and threats of same—that really got to me.

  I looked to the idyllic green peaks ahead as something of a reprieve.

  Magical energies played across the peaks and valleys in vibrant swathes of luxuriant vitality. I imagined faeries, sprites, and other fey creatures of the wood cavorting to sublime music, idling away the days in sumptuous, natural bliss, or engaged in relaxed contemplation of the measureless wonders enlivening their world.

  Much as I had once been in a past almost too distant to recall, when I had harvested magical mushrooms in similar unspoiled environs.

  Of course, with my luck, all the nasties native to Uërth that had been pushed out by the waves of demonic advance of the past centuries were concentrated within these peaks and vales. They were probably, even now, regarding my approach hungrily with plates laid out, tables set, and knives and forks in hand.

  With many guests invited and in attendance.

  I would be a welcome morsel to add a bit of variety to their demon-parched pallets.

  I was closer to the mark than I feared.

  But, as was almost always the case, I was also far more wrong than right.

  I felt the transition as soon as the first green plants began to appear from the sere earth.

  One moment I was walking through a denuded landscape, one sucked so dry of vitality that only the hardiest flora and fauna could persist, and even those sought more suitable climes, for suffering for its own sake was still suffering.

  And if there’s one thing I have learned living a life of laziness, it is far easier to survive under conditions that are easy than when they are harsh.

  Given the choice, most will choose a life of ease.

  Although I could not sense an upwelling of prosperity, leisure, or comfort, I could feel that the land’s potential, its inherent magical strength and resiliency, had increased. With this change, there was more possibility for survival.

  Or, in my case, indolence.

  Walking up those first green hills, I felt renewed and refreshed, bathed in cleanliness, only now realizing how soiled I was and had been, as this place washed all that was unclean from me.

  I was shocked by how much a few paces into such a different place could make me feel, how my thoughts and outlook could brighten.

  Maybe I should sit down and begin composing my own songs to share in idyllic repose with the fey I was bound to find over the next rise.

  “Halt, mortal!”

  I looked around but could see no one.

 
I could not sense anyone either.

  There were living creatures nearby—I could feel their energetic patterns both near and from afar—but of the speaker I sensed nothing.

  I halted.

  The last thing I wanted to do was anger someone who so clearly had the advantage over me, especially one who pointed out my mortality.

  I did not need reminding of my frailties.

  There was also the strong juxtaposition implied by being called a mortal when the speaker’s reference obviously implied their own immortality.

  I did not want to offend immortals.

  Unless of course they were demons.

  There were no demons here, however.

  I hoped.

  “Why do you wish to enter the realm of Leyalia D’anuer?”

  So many answers, so little time.

  Because I wanted a reprieve.

  Because I hoped for renewal but would gladly take a respite.

  Because the opportunity to see wonders when so many of my days had been filled with horrors might give me the will to go on.

  “Because it is the most direct path to my goal.”

  “Your words have been heard and your thoughts judged.”

  By the black Abyss!

  They were in my head…like Alric’s evil twin!

  Or were they his good twin?

  Either way, they were in my head!

  I exhaled fully, resigned to the judgment of my unseen observers and my own folly.

  “Be calm and at ease, Saedeus. You are among friends,” said the other thought reader, the one who had taken up semi-permanent residence in my mind.

  Why couldn’t people respect the frail, limited borders of my meager, overwrought mind and give me what little peace I could find within my head?

  Alric answered for me. “Because your mind will never be at ease until it finds calm within.”

  “And barging in helps?”

  “No. Barging in assures the sidhe that you are not a demon and can be trusted to enter their hallowed lands.”

  Oh.