The Blade Guardian

by Darren Hultberg Jr

  Finally, the demon let out a grunt as it let the lifeless bodies of the guards slide off its crimson-stained horns. It then turned to regard Helena with a grumble, its glowing red eyes seeking the approval of its scarlet-haired master.

  “You did well,” Helena praised, rubbing her hand across the demon’s leathery cheek. “Now, just one more thing... open that door for me.” The woman pointed to the iron door now painted with blood and nodded, signaling her intent. This was likely the final task Karzzroth would be completing for the time being, as summoning a demon outright as she had done constantly drained the woman’s mana. Failing to banish the creature before her mana pool went dry could cause her connection with the infernal spawn to sever, along with any control she had over it.... and adding a wild demon to her already growing list of problems surely wouldn’t help things.

  The other cellblock escapees began to enter the hall and quietly file in behind Helena, watching with utter shock as her demon ripped the iron door from its hinges. The infernal creature turned and gave the warlock a nod of approval, before wiping the blood from its face and returning to her side.

  “You’ve done well, my love,” she praised, placing a hand on the creature’s chest. “Now go rest.” A runic marking appeared on the demon’s chest as a portal of dark energy began to form below its feet. Slowly, a pair of softly glowing chains emerged from the portal, wrapping themselves around the demon before yanking it back into the infernal depths below.

  “Maybe we were safer in our cages...” one of the escapees muttered under his breath, drawing another wry smile onto Helena’s face.

  “No,” Brenton said, forcing his way through the front of the group. “We’re getting out of here. Just after we...” The runecaster’s voice trailed off as he took a look inside the now unsealed chamber, and the gravity of the situation finally settled atop his weary shoulders.

  Lining the room were dozens upon dozens of tall, glowing chambers, each wrapped in a thin layer of glass and sealed with an Aether-binding rune. Inside each of the chambers sat a creature, withered and shriveled and drained of their power, suffering like caged animals that yearned to be free.

  The familiars had been found.

  “Doomswell!” Helena yelled as she rushed to one of the holding chambers and met eyes with the gargoyle. His stony skin had a newfound softness to it and his eyes had begun to sink back into his head.

  “H-Helena...” the creature managed to spurt out before collapsing against the glass. He had been drained of his precious Aether, pushed to the edge of death. Helena grimaced as she peered at the gargoyle through the glass... whoever did this to him would pay.

  With a fiery anger in her eyes, the warlock went to work, removing the top of her robe and wrapping the black fabric tightly around her fist. Then, fueled by anger and drawing looks of surprise once more from the other escapees, she punched her way through the glass.

  Doomswell immediately leapt from the shattered holding chamber, jumping into the warlock’s arms as their bond worked to restore life to his malnourished body.

  “I got you,” she cooed, showing a tender side of herself that she rarely revealed to the others. Around her, the other escapees began dismantling the holding chambers, releasing their familiars and reforming bonds that had been all but severed.

  “He... he was using us. Siphoning away our power...” Doomswell squeaked out.

  “Who?” she asked, the anger growing in her eyes.

  Doomswell sighed. “Mostly lackeys down here... grunts to make sure everything was running smooth. Though a few days ago we did receive a visit from that bastard man that traveled with us... Morose.”

  “I knew it,” Helena hissed. She was never told why the raven guards ambushed her and locked her away, but she just knew it had to do with that bastard assassin. “Did you hear anything, Doom? Do you know where he is?”

  The small gargoyle pondered for a moment, before giving her a slight nod. “He spoke of hunting down Zander... he didn’t say where he was going… but he did mention sending a sizable force northward to the city of Lorethain.”

  A mix of emotions began to stir inside the warlock. She was angered by Morose’s apparent betrayal, but Zander... he was going to need her, especially if the ravens had turned on him. She also desperately wanted to hit the man… how could he escape like that and leave her down here in a damned cell?!

  “Brenton!” Helena shouted, calling the runecaster back to her side. The man had a big smile etched onto his face, having reunited with his lion-like familiar Rhegar.

  “What is it?” he asked, eyeing the door to ensure another patrol of guards hadn’t discovered them yet.

  “Zander... he’s alive.... and I think I know where he is.”

  “You do?” Brenton asked, his eyes lighting up behind his dirty spectacles.

  Helena nodded. “Shut the door and gather every caster in the room to the far wall over there. Make sure they prepare the most destructive spells in their arsenal.”

  Brenton cocked an eyebrow. “Ok... what exactly do you have in mind?”

  The warlock grinned. “We’re gonna blow our way outta here, Brent. We’re gonna find Zan... and then when Morose shows up, I’m gonna take that sword of his and shove it straight up his—”

  “Ma’am!” one of the escapees yelled, interrupting her tirade as he pointed excitedly out the door. “We’ve got raven guards moving in.”

  Helena nodded as she motioned for the man to bar the door. “You better get those spells ready quickly, Brenton. It’s time to get the hell out of here.”

  24

  Deadly Aromas

  The wind carried a chill to it as it blew over Yggrash the morning of our departure. Oddly enough, I’d never considered something so natural, like the change of seasons in Aetheria. I supposed it was something that I should get used to, seeing that this realm was my new home.

  As we began to depart, Greygor met us at the gate, an item in his hand wrapped in fine red silk and tied off with a golden cord. “We recovered this for you, my lady,” he said, handing the item to Hilda with a smile. “Wouldn’t want you leaving without it.”

  Hilda returned the man’s smile with one of her own as she undid the silk wrappings, revealing Dragon Dance, her fabled sword. Upon grasping the hilt, the weapon’s luster returned, and its flaming blade burned brightly once again. Having been soulbound, the weapon’s true power could only be held in the hand of the formidable guardian.

  Hilda and I took the lead as we made our way out of the marshlands, riding atop our windsteeds Zephyr and Galeforth. Following shortly behind us was Thamriul and my father, both perched atop Horus as he tumbled along. Above, Salence and Ivanellios rode the currents of the wind, soaring above the group as they dove in and out between the trees. I chuckled, noticing a toothy grin forming on the dragon familiar’s face as he zipped by... at least someone was enjoying the change of weather.

  Another gust of wind blew in, forcing me to pull my bladesinger’s coat tight across my chest. Hilda noticed and immediately shot me a playful grin. “A bit too cold for you, Zan?”

  I nodded. “I grew up in the Carolinas. It didn’t get too cold very often.”

  “I should’ve known,” the guardian replied with a smirk. “I was an upstate New York girl. Summer was something that only came two weeks outta the year...” Silence lingered as the words rolled off her tongue... memories flooding back to my mind in tiny segments like a scratched DVD that skipped over all the good scenes. I tried to embrace the memories, fleeting as they were, but they drifted from my mind like the ever-blowing winds until nothing was left.

  And so, we rode on.

  The first day of travel was rather uneventful. Seeking the quickest route to Lorethain, we chose to take the Aetherian highroad, a heavily populated traveling route running across the realm’s mid-northern territories. When we arrived on the trail I was surprised to find out that the highroad was indeed an actual road. Unpaved and made mostly of packed dirt, the highroad spa
nned nearly twenty yards wide, stretching out into the distance until it disappeared from sight.

  Merchants, caravans and groups of other travelers all shared the worn-down road, some looking to strike up deals and others just looking to plain keep to themselves. We fell somewhere in the middle, with Hilda and I generally keeping to ourselves while my father and Tham chatted with nearly every passerby. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of it... my father chatting people’s ears off like he’d lived here all his life. I even admired it... an adaptability that had come with many years of life experiences... and something he had very recently rediscovered.

  Razyr shifted between my shoulders as we trotted down the path, sniffing at a merchant as we passed by his wide assortment of spices. Suddenly, another cold gust of wind blew through the area, sending a large whiff of the spices straight into his nostrils.

  The drake purred, settling himself across the back of my neck. “Winter’s Wail is approaching,” he said with glee, soaking in the cool breeze between the folds of his azure scales. “Zander... you should really think about getting a heavier coat.”

  I sighed as I pulled my bladesinger coat in tighter. “Dammit Razyr, I just got this one…” And after all, the thing was once owned by an Aetherian legend!

  Hours passed as we continued to ride down the winding road, trees and foliage growing sparser as we entered into a series of less-populated valleys. Even the road itself began to thin, with more and more travelers breaking off as we ventured farther east. As Aetheria’s sun reached its peak in the wide, amber sky, we finally dismounted for a short break.

  “So, these are our options, son,” my father said as he spread his tattered map over a large stone on the side of the road. “According to the map, the highroad forks up ahead into two paths.” He traced his fingers across the map as he spoke. “The southern path appears to dip down towards Karrihdan, crossing through hill dwarf territory and a number of low-lying valleys. It actually looks rather safe.”

  “And the northern route?” Hilda asked, arms crossed over her chest.

  “The northern route seems to be bit more... straightforward. But...”

  “But?” I asked, leaning over the map to get a look for myself.

  Candor sighed. “But in order to take the northern route to Lorethain... we have to cross the Leviathan Bridge.” Thamriul let out an audible gasp, but Hilda and I just exchanged confused glances.

  “You’ve been there, Dad?”

  “No,” he quickly replied. “But Greygor talked about the place at length. It’s a massive skybridge stretching over a scar left on Aetheria’s surface... a deep crater created during some ancient war. Apparently, the bridge acts as a crossing into Iron Wolf territory, and the men there guard it with extreme prejudice.”

  Thamriul shuddered at the mention of the route, but I wasn’t having it. “How much of a difference would the path make?”

  “Days,” my father responded, his eyes glued to the discolored map. “It looks like the road shoots up North before turning east... if we cut through the Thornlands and cross the bridge, we could be there in less than two nights...”

  “We have to try then,” Hilda demanded, re-inserting herself into the discussion. “We don’t know how long the others have... especially if they’re still trapped in Ravenhold. We’ll show the wolves we mean peace somehow. We need to get to Lorethain, find this temple, and finish this!”

  Silence fell over the group as our eyes all settled on the guardian, her typically cheery outlook replaced with a fiery temple that could match Helena’s.

  “Very well,” my father replied, shooting me a wide-eyed look before meeting Hilda’s determined gaze. “We’ll take the bridge... perhaps the wolves will have the area lightly guarded with winter’s approach.”

  “And if not?” Thamriul asked, giving the spiritwalker a curt look.

  I stood, taking the center of the group as I raised a fist full of resolve. “Then like anything else in our way...we convince them with our blades.”

  ><><

  After a short reprieve, we resumed our travels, making our way towards the Leviathan Bridge. The wind began to blow harder in our direction, as if nature itself was urging us to turn back.... still, despite the cold and the imminent danger ahead, we pulled our cloaks just a bit tighter and carried on.

  I thought heavily about what I had said just moments ago… the comment I had made about attacking the wolves. It bothered me that my natural instincts had been to fight, to kill… it was as if I was still thinking like a raven. Dammit all, I had to abandon that mindset if I planned on actually doing some good in this world… I had to abandon it just as I had abandoned the guild.

  It wasn’t long before the highroad cut north, and we were forced to depart from the beaten path, now reliant on Horus’s nose to guide us to the next step in our journey. Though I was more than a little skeptical, my father assured us that his hog was better than a world map... and indeed, before long, the burly tusked boar proved his invaluable worth.

  Guiding us through a series of valleys littered with tall grass and wildflowers, the boar eventually slowed as we crested the edge of a seemingly endless plain. The ground was covered in long, curling stems that ended in unopened flower buds and the wind carried the smell of lilac and honey. It smelled divine... oddly reminding me of Helena and her almost supernatural allure.

  “This... this is the Thornlands?” Hilda asked, eyes glancing across the far-reaching plain, an incredulous look painted onto her soft features.

  “Were you expecting something different?” Thamriul replied with more than a bit of wit in his tone.

  She shrugged. “I guess... more thorns.”

  My father sneered as Sledge vibrated with laughter atop his shoulder, though they quickly stopped once Ivanellios swooped down and startled them with an imposing squawk. The noble familiar continued his flight before coming to a rest atop Hilda’s right shoulder. “Your question is more than appropriate, lady guardian. You see, the Thornlands adopted their name due to the hostile vegetation that grows here during winter’s wake. Other times of the year, the land is filled with the most beautiful, most aromatic flowers in all of Aetheria. It looks like we’ve arrived just before the season’s final bloom.”

  “Thank you, Ivan,” Hilda replied, saying each word with added emphasis as she gave Tham and my father a stern look. Razyr and Kord merely sat back and snickered as the men squirmed atop their mount.

  As we made our way into the Thornlands, the usually quiet Kord began croaking emphatically, hopping around in between Zephyr’s hooves in a strange, nonsensical sort of way.

  “You ok, buddy?” I asked, leaning over the side of my windsteed as I gave the sprite a quick inspection. Kord looked up at me long enough to let out a loud, bellowing croak then continued his obsessive hopping.

  “Zander... something has Kord troubled,” Razyr said, eyeing his companion with concern.

  “I can see that,” I replied with a sigh. “Any idea what it is?”

  “I sense it too,” Salence said, replying with his dark, brooding voice as he hovered near the ground. “Something feels... off.”

  I called my familiars in close as my eyes scanned the horizon. “Eyes up everyone... Kord may be odd, but his intuition hasn’t failed me yet.”

  My father nodded, sitting up just a bit straighter on Horus as Tham casually laid a hand on the hilt of his dagger.

  An eerie silence fell over the group as we continued, each of us on edge following Kord’s strange behavior. Soon that feeling faded though, replaced with the allure of that beautiful, beautiful smell. It seemed to grow stronger by the second, permeating my thoughts, my feelings. It made me feel... warm.

  “This place is wonderful,” Hilda said, her cheeks flush with joy as she climbed off the back of Galeforth and began running her fingers through the vine-covered brush. As if reacting to her touch, the many flower buds littering the ground began to open, revealing large, violet, star-shaped flowers that emana
ted even more of that beautiful smell. I tried to resist, but I found the scent unbearable and in seconds found myself on the ground rolling in the violet blooms.

  In seconds, I was consumed by it all, my coherent thoughts lost in a state of ecstasy. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t notice the frantic nature of my familiars as they circled me, eyeing something large and winged in the distance. Maybe that was the point... to be trapped in a state of bliss as death raced towards me from above, as the true predators of the Thornlands made their move, stingers held sharp and ready to strike. My demise was fast approaching, and I was lying there with a grin, smelling the flowers.

  Oh, how foolish was I.

  ><><

  Back at Yggrash…

  Greygor stood nervously with his back against the tree, trident gripped tightly in his sweaty palms. Around him, his men continued to fall, their bodies pierced with black-fletched arrows or the cold steel of a longsword.

  Their mission had been a simple one... traverse the outer perimeter of Yggrash and force out the nomadic tribe of l’karri that had been harassing the city’s borders. Greygor and his tidecallers had completed tasks like this countless times before, except this time they encountered more than just a few errant l’karri.

  They were ambushed... by the ravens.

  Greygor’s men immediately fell into formation, creating a defensive circle with spears and tridents pointing out. It was a formation used for fending off monsters or other large invaders, but against a group of assassins they were little more than easy pickings.

  First the arrows flew in, intercepting a pair of tidecallers that had failed to adjust their shields in time. Their health reticles instantly vanished as the arrows scored critical hits, the steel arrowheads burying themselves into a throat and an eye socket.

  Next came two pairs of ravens charging in from either side, each of them brandishing long, serrated blades. The four remaining tidecallers tried to form a defensive shell around Greygor, keeping their shields high to block out the hail of arrows as they used their polearms to stave off the blade wielders. It was a sound strategy, but it was all for naught.