The Blade Guardian

by Darren Hultberg Jr

  I chuckled, then turned back to observe Tham in action. If what I witnessed was fun, then I never wanted to cross a dark elf.

  Thamriul spun in between the two remaining trolls, slashing his blade with surgical precision. He ducked the swing of a fist before sliding behind the lesser of the two creatures and slicing it behind the knee.

  As it stumbled, he leaped onto the creature’s back, running the length of its spine before diving into the clutches of the mire guardian.

  Again, his glowing blade struck with deadly accuracy as he slashed the troll across the throat before using the weight of his jump to plant two feet firmly into the creature’s chest. A quick push-off sent the beast crashing onto its back as Thamriul did a full backflip before landing gracefully on two feet.

  “Time to finish this,” said Candor as he trudged over to the fallen mire troll. Switching back to bear aura, the spiritwalker heaved his hammer into the air before smashing into the gurgling troll’s forehead, again and again until its health reticle faded.

  The last remaining troll rose on one foot, attempting to flee as it dragged its damaged leg behind it. It had just witnessed its leader get smashed to pieces and no longer wanted anything to do with the fearsome duo. Unfortunately for him, there would be no escape.

  Tham nodded at my father, then promptly leaped onto the face of his massive warhammer, falling into a crouch as he held his runic blade at his side. With a heave, my father launched his elvish companion into the air, sending the daggermage spiraling towards the fleeing troll at breakneck speed.

  SLICE!

  Thamriul’s glowing blade sliced through the troll’s neck like a knife through butter, removing the creature’s head and the remainder of its hit points. With a final flip, he landed several feet in front of the creature’s body before turning and shooting my dad a wink. I couldn’t hide the massive grin on my face as I watched the two fight in unison. Hell, I almost wanted to clap at the pair’s impressive display of force!

  “Didn’t think your ole dad could pull something like that off, did ya?” he said as he dismissed Sledge back into his rocky lizard form.

  “Honesty... no,” I said, quite surprised with how well my father fought. “The last time I saw you, things weren’t... well they weren’t very—”

  “Things were as they were,” my father interrupted, placing a hand on each of my shoulders. “I was lost, son. I wasn’t the man that I should’ve been... I wasn’t a father that you deserved.” My father’s words were full of passion as he spoke, his eyes still wide and alert from the adrenaline coursing through him.

  Despite the lump forming in my throat, I tried to force out a response. “Dad, I...”

  “No, Adam. This needs to be said. I won’t allow myself to become the man that I was back on Earth. This game... this world has given me a new lease on life, a chance to change, to be the man that I know I can be. Son... no matter what happens this time around, I promise that I’m going to be there for you.”

  My gaze shifted to my father’s face where tears now freely flowed down his cheeks… and in that instant, in that briefest of moments, I felt like everything was going to be ok.

  ><><

  With the trolls quite dead and an apparent lack of enemies in sight, we continued on through the marshlands. Occasionally we spotted another one of the green behemoths eyeing us from afar, but Thamriul had made gruesomely certain that no other troll would dare attack. Strapped to his back, he carried the severed arm of the mire guardian, its dead skin pale from a lack of blood.

  “Trolls are territorial creatures, but they also live under a very tribal hierarchy,” he said, motioning over to a pair of the ugly creatures eyeing us from between a pair of rotting trees. “They won’t attack someone that’s recently slain one of their chiefs... even an outsider like ourselves. It’s a strange behavior, I know, but it’s something that seems to be hardwired into their brains, like an inferiority complex. Either way, we should be safe ‘til we reach the city.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” I replied, briefly making eye contact with a rather large troll off in the distance. I only wished that the limb strapped to his back didn’t smell so damn bad.

  Thankfully, we didn’t have much farther to go before we were out of the Trollmire and into an area a bit less swampy. “Do you really think Hilda could’ve ended up down here?” I asked, taking a quick look around at the strange, low-hanging foliage dangling from the trees.

  “The river would’ve washed her up somewhere in the marshes,” my father replied. “If we didn’t spot her yet, then the only logical explanation is that she followed the road south.”

  Suddenly, I began to grow anxious. “You don’t think the trolls...”

  “Not likely,” Thamriul cut in. “It was already quite bold of them to attack us on the road like that. There’s no way they would’ve pulled a stunt like that twice, even if it was only a lone traveler.”

  Before I could respond, my father steered Horus alongside me. “Don’t worry, son, if she went anywhere, it would be there,” he said before pointing a gloved finger farther south.

  I averted my gaze to the clearing up ahead, and the massive structure that sat at its center. A massive stone wall stretched in an enormous circle, its top lined with sharp spikes and a series of guard posts spread throughout. Beyond the wall I spotted a number of stone structures reaching towards the sky… buildings that had no business standing in the soft, water-soaked earth. I took in the spectacle before focusing my gaze forward. At the center of the outlying wall sat a giant iron gate sealed by two doors that were covered in green runic markings. Considering the path that we had traveled, I never would have guessed that this place sat in the heart of the marshlands… but here we were. We had reached Yggrash.

  13

  The Price of Progress

  My eyes widened as I marveled at the rustic stone city sitting at the heart of the marshlands. “I did not expect to see this here,” I admitted as we began our trek towards the gate.

  “It’s quite the place,” my father added. “From what I’ve learned, the place is built atop a channel of magickkal runes that keep it from sinking into the ground. It’s actually pretty neat! Oh, and the folk here are rather helpful. The city is under the protection of this guild called the Tidecallers.”

  “The... Tidecallers?” I asked, recalling a number of strange encounters I had with the guild’s members.

  My father nodded. “They’re a bit of a... unique bunch, but they seem like good people. Although I do wish they would take better care of their lawn.”

  Their… lawn? I thought on it for a second, trying to understand what the hell my dad meant. Then it dawned on me. “Wait... did you just hit me with a Dad joke?”

  Thamriul immediately leaped in between us. “Do not dishonor your father with such questions! He has spoken to me at length about the subtle art of the Dad joke, a sacred practice used among Earth’s elite. Being an Earth boy, I thought you would know better.”

  “Well then,” I responded, completely dumbfounded by the elf’s heated response. I didn’t know what in the world my dad had been telling Tham, but judging by the massive grin on his bearded face, there was plenty more to come.

  Such was the price for adventuring alongside your father.

  As we approached the gate, a guard outfitted in blue scale armor emerged and greeted us with a wave. The man wore a pointed helm that rested over his eyes, coming to an end just under the bridge of his nose. In his grasp he held a long spear with a hook-shaped point and on his back was a long, pale blue cape with a depiction of tentacles inked into the fabric.

  This man was an officer of the Tidecallers.

  “Welcome back, Sir Candor,” the man said, tipping his spear in salute.

  “Greygor! Great to see you again, friend!” my father responded as he gave the man a quick pat on the back. “I’m not used to seeing you on guard duty. Running a bit short-staffed?”

  Greygor shook his head. “Just giving
the men at the gate a bit of a break. We had a group of l’karri nomads heckling them at the perimeter the past two days... kept everyone on edge, ya know?” Greygor’s gaze shifted as he gave me a quick inspection. “So... who’s the newcomer?” he asked, nodding in my direction.

  Candor beamed. “That, Greygor, is my son.”

  “Your son?!” Greygor said with earnest excitement. “Well I’ll be damned... you found him! You found the lad after all!”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of my father searching for me amongst the tidecallers. Hell, I bet he would’ve searched among the l’karri lizardmen if someone told him there was a chance I was one of them.

  Instinctively I reached out to the tidecaller for a handshake, but Greygor didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes narrowed as his gaze settled on the raven insignia now visible on my wrist.

  “Hmph.... raven,” he spat, his demeanor quickly shifting. With everything that had transpired, I hadn’t even realized that I was still a member of that blasted organization... an organization whose leaders had just actively sought to kill me.

  “Not anymore,” I said in defiance, hastily raising my marked wrist into the air.

  “Is that so?” the Tidecaller responded, not trying to hide his doubt.

  Without hesitating, I pulled up my character menu and scrolled through the list of options.

  Guild: Ravenflight

  Rank: Member

  Leave Guild?

  Yes / No

  Without so much as a pause, without an inkling of reconsideration, I ended my membership with Ravenflight, the guild of shadows and blades... and damn did it feel good!

  Suddenly, the insignia on my wrist began to glow with bright, violet light as a burning pain scaled the surface of my arm. I cried out in agony as the pain grew more severe and two parallel lines of smoke began to emanate from my wrist.

  Candor lurched forward, panicked and ready to offer aid, but Greygor held him back. Judging by the grim look on the tidecaller’s face, it was apparent he had witnessed something like this before.

  “Hold on, boy,” Greygor instructed. “The pain will pass in a moment.”

  “What.... the hell... is happening!?” I asked through clenched teeth as the pain forced me to my knees. My familiars began to race about nervously, clearly disturbed by my current situation. I needed something, anything to stop this damned burning!

  “There is a price for leaving a guild like the ravens,” Greygor shouted as he kept the others at bay. “They do this as a reminder.... a reminder of the pain they’ll bring to any who choose to abandon their ranks… the mark of the mercenary.”

  “They didn’t bother mentioning that when I signed up,” I choked out as my vision began to blur. Several agonizing seconds passed by as I continued to writhe on the ground, until finally the pain began to subside.

  Greygor shrugged. “What did you expect from a bunch of guys that run around in the shadows glorifying a death bird. I mean, really the only reason they helped save Karrihdan from the fires of the great red those many years ago was to try to paint themselves in a different light. Guess it worked a little.”

  With the pain finally over, I rose back to my feet and inspected my once-smoldering wrist. The spot where the insignia once sat was now just a charred, indistinguishable scar... a symbol to remind me of my foolish misplaced trust in the guild. Dammit all, I should’ve seen the signs... the secretiveness, the misdirection, the vicious nature with which they executed their missions...

  A gentle hand rested on my shoulder, pulling me from my temporary dive into self-pity. I turned my head to see Candor gazing down at me with a look only a concerned father could give. I wanted to tell him that the pain I had felt was just a part of this world, a part that I’d come to accept. I wanted to tell him that such pain had hardened me... Instead, I settled on a disarming smile.

  “Are you well?” Thamriul asked, a look of boredom beginning to emerge on the dark elf’s angular face. I would’ve assumed someone with such a prolonged lifespan would possess a bit more patience.

  “Yeah,” I replied, taking a final look at my new scar before setting my sights on the city’s open gates. “I’m much better now.”

  ><><

  Leaving Greygor at the gate, Thamriul, Candor and myself made our way into the heart of the Yggrash. Second only to Karrihdan, the city sported short, yet elegant buildings crafted from pale stone, and roadways that were paved smoother than elf skin. Many of the structures in Yggrash were decorated in masterful carvings, be it finely detailed sea creatures, unfamiliar symbols or even the occasional gargoyle...

  Dammit, seeing a stone gargoyle perched atop one of the nearby buildings immediately brought Helena to the forefront of my thoughts. We’d left her somewhere in the halls of Ravenhold, at the mercy of those bastards. My only hope was that she found some way to escape before the Asurans got their claws into her.

  “Are you good, Adam?” my father asked, clearly seeing my change in posture. It was oddly refreshing having people who were older and wiser so concerned about my well-being. The others had seen me as a leader and often sought strength in me, a position that could be quite tiring.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “So, what makes this place so special?”

  Candor grinned. “Well, I arrived in Aetheria near the coast, alone and without resources. I was fighting for my life out in the wild... I’ll tell ya, son, I nearly died on at least three separate occasions! Luckily, Greygor and a few of the other tidecallers were scouting the area. They brought me back to Yggrash, clothed and fed me, and even offered to help me master some of my skills.”

  “They did?” I asked, unable to mask the disbelief in my tone. After my experiences with the Tidecaller guild, I had just assumed them all to be some strange cult.

  “They’re a good group of guys,” my father went on. “And it turns out that the source of my power comes from one of the same god creatures that they worship... Vorghan, god of the great marsh.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “I, uh... I know my memory is a bit unreliable, but I don’t remember you ever being religious.”

  Candor grinned. “I wasn’t, but the class I selected was of the primal domain, which it turns out draws some of its power from godly sources.”

  I nodded, taking in all the valuable information my father had to offer. It was clear that his early experiences in Aetheria had been drastically differed from my own, and the fresh perspective that he had on the world had piqued my interest.

  Soon, we arrived at a spot near the center of the city, a place Thamriul had referred to as the highwave district. The place was quite active, with a number of city-goers traveling in and out of buildings on either side of the street. To our left was a grand building of stone with a pair of stone-carved tentacles arching over the entrance... the Tidecallers’ local guild hall. Beyond that was a square building with robed men chatting about near its entrance. It was a place I immediately recognized as a temple of Vorghan, having stayed at one during my time in Airrigar.

  “We should stop by the guild hall first,” Candor suggested as he turned to make his way towards the building’s archway. “They’re the best resource we have here.”

  “Maybe,” I replied. “But I’m not quite sure that this situation calls for it.”

  My father paused as he shot me a perplexed look. “What do you mean, Adam?”

  “All I’m saying is that if all my years of online adventuring has taught me anything, it’s that there’s always one place you should start when digging for info.”

  “And where might that be?” Thamriul cut in.

  I grinned before pointing across the street to a rustic, wooden building with a steady stream of patrons moving in and out of its doors. “The tavern, of course.”

  ><><

  My father eyed me warily as we made our way towards the city’s largest tavern, a place dubbed “The Seafarer’s Folly.” He didn’t say anything, but the look he was giving me was more than enough to tell me
exactly what was on his mind. “You don’t have to come in,” I said. “I can handle—”

  “It’s fine,” he replied, cutting me off before I could finish my statement. “I’ve fought this battle and won... I won’t be tempted by another damn drink again... besides, I gotta keep an eye on you. You’re still not old enough to drink as it is.”

  I turned and gave my father a discerning look until finally his mouth stretched into a smile. With all of the things I’d done in this world, me having a drink should’ve been the least of his worries!

  We entered the bar and quickly found ourselves a table, weaving in and out of drunkards and an overworked barmaid who rushed by with a pair of mugs clasped tightly in each hand. Thamriul and I each ordered a mug of ale, though Tham was the only person that touched his. My father had proudly ordered a tall glass of water, even if it drew a perplexing look from the barmaid. As we sat, I scanned the tavern, looking for signs, for any clue or point of interest that might work as a starting point to investigate Hilda’s whereabouts.

  Many moments passed as my eyes wandered from table to table and my ears eavesdropped on over a dozen conversations not worth listening to. I’d even sent Razyr to sniff about the tavern, but he had no luck either.

  Then I noticed him.

  Standing at the bar was a peculiar-looking man, a fellow dressed in fine-looking leathers with long blonde hair that fell beyond his shoulders. He’d started to draw a crowd around him as he spoke, moving his hands in frantic motions before pointing to an item tied to his waist.

  The onlookers cooed as he gave them a glimpse of the item, the man clearly proud of his new catch.

  I rose from my seat and took a step towards the small crowd, a bit curious as to what the man was wielding, though my curiosity was soon replaced with shock, and then with rage.