Soul Stealer: Legacy of the Blade

by Joseph J. Bailey

Foot.

  Meet mouth.

  Or mind.

  Alric had a point or three there.

  I simmered down with alacrity.

  And found my inner peace.

  Its discovery was not even against my better judgment.

  I waited almost patiently.

  “Empyrean Knight, you have been judged worthy and may cross the lands of the Alaurana Leyalia.”

  Now, that was a relief.

  I certainly did not want to trek all the way around.

  Before I could offer a clever reply, darkness clouded my vision and I could see no more.

  The Peaks and Valleys Within

  Stifling an exclamation, I maintained some semblance of calm.

  If the sidhe wanted to attack me, they could have well before I had been alerted to their presence.

  I had to hand it to them.

  The sidhe knew what they were doing.

  They knew how to counter an Empyrean Knight with ease.

  At least one as relatively inexperienced as I.

  The spell they cast on me did not touch my Sigil Shield or it would not have worked. Instead, its forces surrounded me outside the range of the armor’s magical protections influencing the region beyond.

  Even with my inner vision, the spell’s radiance itself interfered with my ability to see with my mind’s eye.

  With some adjustment, like getting used to darkness after being in a brightly lit room, I could begin to get some sense of my surroundings.

  Although not perfect, I would take limited senses over none at all.

  The sidhe, however, did not need to know this.

  “We will guide you from here.

  “Follow us.”

  “Do I get a say in where I go?”

  There was a pause. “You always have a say in your heart’s desire. How you get to the end you desire, however, may not be by the means you wish.

  “You are welcome to stay here and choose your own path around Leyalia D’anuer. If you wish to cross, you will come with us and then choose your own path after you have left us.”

  Some options were better than none.

  “I will go with you.”

  Following supernatural entities across unfamiliar terrain while blinded was a breeze. I did it every day back home.

  That was one of my many diversions.

  Cross my heart and hope to eat pie.

  With some trepidation, perhaps not fully trusting my armor to protect me when I felt so disconnected and out of sorts, I began walking forward.

  No one ever laid a hand on me, but I felt a subtle direction whenever my steps strayed from the desired path.

  Only a few minutes had passed before I was no longer walking.

  Held within a cushion of air, I was flying over the steepening landscape.

  Perhaps not being able to see was not so bad after all.

  This way, I had no idea how far I would fall if the sidhe’s spell failed.

  Impact with the earth would come as a surprise…

  One that was a bit sudden and violent but a surprise nonetheless.

  And who did not like surprises?

  By a show of hands, I counted myself as the only one.

  Not caring if the sidhe could hear me, I asked Alric, “Is this how you were ushered through Doeren Muer when you visited Fornost?”

  Alric chuckled. “No. The fey trusted me.

  “I walked freely on their trails.”

  Great.

  I was being herded like an unruly sheep.

  A flying one at that.

  Out of respect for their wishes, I resisted the temptation to draw Loer’allon and cast aside their enchantment, to draw its energies into myself, or test my meager magical talents with a counterspell.

  But restraining myself was hard.

  I was stubborn, independent, and had only recently been unwillingly bound in demonic servitude, struggling to recover my self and my dignity. I bristled at the confines prescribed by my guides within moments.

  Especially since I found it difficult to enjoy missing what I imagined was quite a view.

  I tried to distract myself with conversation before I did something rash. Finding points of discussion could be tough when you shared the mind of the other party you wanted to speak with and had lived his life through his eyes. “Do you want to visit Fornost while we are in Doeren Muer?”

  “Only if you still wish to return Loer’allon.

  “She would be more likely to choose one of my clan than one of the Empyrean Knights at Kerraboer.”

  “And you’re just now telling me this?”

  “Saedeus, I never thought you would return Loer’allon to the Empyrean Knights.”

  “You doubted me?”

  “No, Saedeus, I believed in you.”

  I snorted.

  “I believed you would rise to Uërth’s need if called. I believed you would become more than you were, that you would become what you needed to be. I believed that you would be willing to take Loer’allon and create a destiny worthy of her name.”

  Alric’s compliments would win every argument.

  “I suppose we don’t need to visit Fornost.”

  Alric did not reply.

  I tried not to read any emotions I might project into that silence…emotions like smugness, self-congratulation, triumph, haughtiness, and superiority.

  My mind provided a market list of negative emotions, unseemly interpretations, and ill-advised conclusions.

  Thankfully, I chose not to listen.

  I had gotten very good at ignoring the voices in my head.

  In response to his silence, I added, “But I would like to visit one day.”

  “As would I, Saedeus, as would I.”

  Il’alen

  “We have arrived at Il’alen, Saedeus, Knight of Silvaeron.”

  With those words, my feet touched down and the mantle of darkness occluding my vision vanished into quickly forgotten memory for Il’alen stole my thoughts and replaced them with wonder.

  Never having visited Heaven, I decided Il’alen was as close as I might ever come.

  My feet resting on the solid ground were the only things that anchored me to the Uërth as my mind soared.

  Il’alen rested lightly on the peaks like sunlight reflecting off untrammeled glaciers—pure, clean, and incomprehensible.

  Only when I looked upon the works of the sidhe did I realize the limitations of my own conceptions of Heaven and Uërth. I was lost in absorption as the dizzying heights of divine providence beckoned—made real, tangible, and all the more lofty. Gazing in wonder upon the creations of the sidhe, I realized the marvels that were truly possible to create on Uërth.

  Sadly, I also realized how much had been lost.

  Il’alen blazed like a dream of Light filled with ineffable beauty that the mortal mind could not completely grasp, conceive, or appreciate, one that I yearned to remember and struggled to do justice for, for I could not fully encompass its conception or reality.

  The sidhe themselves were a reflection of their city and the Light from which it sprang—partially in phase with normal reality, at least as viewed by most, and a part of something greater, something sublime generally hidden but that they brought to the fore. If men represented beings or a state somewhere between angel and demon, then the sidhe manifested existence or entities somewhere between man and angel or between angel and something else entirely, some other order or magnitude of actuality.

  I could see their glory without the benefit of my inner vision, for it shone so brightly, so clearly, and if I could see, I could only imagine what wonders others saw mirrored in the secret hearts of their mind and eye.

  As I beheld Il’alen, my world suddenly got so much bigger.

  And with this expansion, my sense of purpose grew as well.

  There was yet beauty and intention beyond the minds and hearts of men who strove against the infernal advance.

  There were valiant bastions that actively resisted the f
oul effluence spilling forth from the Chaos Gate.

  Their cause was my own just as their intent was reflected within my own, reinforcing my views, expanding my sense of possibility, and energizing my mission.

  The city of the sidhe floated lightly among the branches and boles covering the heights and valleys of Leyalia D’anuer without impinging upon the mountains or trees—sunbeams arching through quavering dust motes suspended in a dusky wood. A city of light, Il’alen was as much of the heavens as of the earth, a dream that somehow persisted in the light of day.

  “Welcome to our home, Saedeus Mushroomsong.”

  Mushroomsong indeed.

  At least the sidhe recognized the value of a true artisan, a master of his craft with unparalleled facility in his chosen art.

  Few were as discerning.

  Or tasteful.

  Myself excluded.

  The sidhe who escorted me into to Il’alen, my companions in flight up through the mountains, regarded me with luminous, knowing smiles.

  I shrugged nonchalantly.

  Without a tinge of embarrassment.

  What else could I do when divinity peered with playful curiosity into the dusty, disordered mess that was my mind?

  Their smiles deepened.

  Watching sidhe smile is a bit like observing the unfolding of a full solar eclipse. The event is rare, magical, and entirely unforgettable.

  It is also wise to avert your eyes lest they get burned.

  Their smiles eclipsed the sun above.

  What else can I say about the sidhe?

  Removing the mantle obscuring my vision did little to clarify their reality. If anything, they only grew greater and more mysterious with the unveiling like a tale of love, loss, and discovery retold and passed on through the generations.

  In form, they appeared akin to the reflections of men glanced on the scintillating surface of a placid ocean mirroring the newly risen sun. The essence of who and what they were was difficult to discern through their eldritch luminosity.

  More lithe and graceful in form than mortals, the sidhe glided effortlessly on the land and through the air as if floating in water though their motions were actually much quicker, more refined, and more controlled than mine. Their otherworldly shapes were haloed in blazing armor that wavered and flickered like white flames cavorting about a celestial tempest.

  Theirs were the forms to bring tears of joy to the hearts of men, to melt self-imposed restrictions and open the mind to opportunity anew.

  They were perfect.

  And therefore flawed.

  For, like the demons we fought, they were too much for a world already overwrought by tragedy and wonder.

  I felt the need to shield my gaze to look upon them directly.

  The sidhe’s warmth and wisdom penetrated even my notoriously thick skull, filling me with a sense of serenity and renewal, of vibrancy and possibility.

  A part of this world and another, I could also see right through them.

  Literally.

  I would have thought this odd, but I found staring through semidivine beings a little less unnerving than trying to keep their multifaceted glory in full focus.

  To each his own.

  Perhaps the sidhe would be the ones to repopulate Heaven after the demons’ fall.

  Mayhap they would restore Heaven to Its full glory.

  “So where can a mushroom singer get something to eat?”

  I did not bother to speak aloud.

  A warm meal and a hot bath would be heavenly.

  The nearest sidhe made a brief gesture, one most likely meant for my observation rather than actual effect, and a heaping plate of steaming food materialized before me as a rush of wind washed over me, cleansing my neglected body from head to foot.

  I needed to ask better questions.

  Especially when the sidhe answered them before I even finished asking.

  Maybe I should ask for a demon-destroying super weapon.

  Or a universal panacea to cure the land and wipe away all the ills associated with the long demonic despoliation.

  Or a bed made of feathers lighter than a sea breeze.

  Or for fresh cookies and milk.

  Or for better questions.

  Time to eat.

  “We will wait for you to renew yourself,” the sidhe said and its patience was the patience of mountains and the rise and fall of tides.

  Being mortal, my patience had nothing to do with mountains or tides.

  Aside from where I sat to eat.

  That mountain was just fine.

  I plopped down right there and devoured my meal on the mountainside unashamedly. Crumbs fell down my chest in small avalanches of comestibles.

  My hunger was the hunger of floods and tempests.

  Luckily my appetite lasted about as long as my patience.

  The sidhe did not move the entire time I was eating.

  Since I had an audience, I made sure to put on a show.

  Although the sidhe would never admit it, I knew they were quite impressed.

  Lucius certainly was.

  I aim to please.

  “What would you do with your time in Il’alen, Saedeus of Silvaeron?” asked Aerilon, my guide into Il’alen, my other companions having left for other duties, perhaps returning once more to guard the outer bounds of Doeren Muer.

  Luminous boles of trees wider than my house in Balde ever dreamed of becoming soared heavenward, their upper branches lost in shimmering light and jewel-toned leaves.

  Although it truly pained me to say this, I replied, “I merely wish to pass through to reach Kerraboer.

  “Perhaps when my quest is done I will have the opportunity to return and explore the wisdom and depths of your people.”

  Aerilon nodded in acknowledgement, the gesture sending a ripple of light between us. “And how will you reach Kerraboer?”

  Kerraboer was roughly the same distance southward from Doeren Muer as I had already traveled from Balde.

  Which, given the monumental success of my past exploits, meant I had quite a bit of suffering ahead of me.

  Unless I found a way to avoid further travails.

  Well, as many travails as could be avoided when crossing a land brimming with fell monstrosities while heading toward a joyful reunion with a ravenous pit torn between dimensions belching forth unending multitudes of demonic entities hellbent on destroying Uërth and everything on it.

  “Can you help me teleport there?”

  As much as I wanted to take in all the wondrous sights on the way to Kerraboer, I would actually prefer to get there alive.

  Although my magical skills were progressing far more rapidly than I had expected, or ever hoped to achieve—due in large part to Alric’s unending well of patience—teleportation was a skill I could not claim to possess.

  My unfailing ability to spontaneously appear in the midst of dire circumstances, however, was without question.

  Aerilon’s gaze clouded, or at least I think it did. Reading features and nuances of body language was especially difficult when the entity in question was utterly alien and surrounded by a nearly impenetrable nimbus of Light.

  “We no longer risk teleportation.

  “The barriers between worlds are too thin.

  “Willingly penetrating the veil only strengthens the Alaurana Nuerda and speeds their incursion.”

  So, teleportation was not an option.

  To say I was disappointed would be a loremaster’s thesis in understatement.

  Thankfully, I was no loremaster, so my disappointment was somewhat less than the absolute.

  And far from being worthy of a dissertation.

  If I ever took the essence of a loremaster within myself, I was sure the issue could be revisited in greater detail.

  “Then I will run.”

  I need not bore Aerilon with details or my petty concerns.

  He, or she, probably knew them all already.

  “You could fly.”

  I arche
d an eyebrow.

  Flying sounded safer than running.

  Or did it?

  With my luck, one never could tell.

  “You would be willing to cast a spell of flight upon me?”

  Aerilon smiled bewitchingly…I think. “That would be…inefficient. Our Yaera Leyalia travel regularly to Kerraboer.

  “I am certain we could arrange for you to accompany one on her flight.”

  “That would be…most welcome.”

  I hoped.

  Light Rider

  Il’alen truly was like a dream.

  And I do not exactly mean that in a positive way.

  Il’alen was more like the kind of dream that made me feel uneasy, that I could not wake up from, that was beguiling, confusing, and disconcerting.

  Although far from a nightmare, Il’alen was certainly not the type of dream I looked forward to having upon laying down for the evening to rest.

  The sidhe city was offputting, so foreign to my senses and sensibilities that I rebelled against its ethereal nature.

  I was, perhaps, too much of the earth and dirt to feel at home in a city that seemed to bridge the gap between forests and stars.

  If this alone had been my main problem, then I might have overcome and adjusted, perhaps growing to encompass the novelness that I initially found so challenging.

  But this was the least of my concerns.

  I sensed sidhe all around, their radiance full and vibrant, adding to the majesty of the unearthly forest. But I could not see them.

  No sidhe approached.

  No sidhe bustled about on everyday business or casual errands.

  No sidhe gathered to partake in social discourse or enjoyment.

  Although the sidhe were as omnipresent as the air I breathed, they were just as invisible.

  For all intents and purposes, the sidhe in Il’alen existed in some other dimension entirely.

  To my mind, the heart of the place was absent.

  Or mayhap this heart was just so rarified that I could not connect to its beat or hear its pulse.

  Regardless, I felt like I was walking in a bubble, all alone with no one around besides my guide.

  In this regard, too, the city was very much like a dream—a dream where you are looking for someone and cannot find them; a dream where you know whomever you are searching for is near but you cannot manage to lay eyes on them.