by DJ Morand
“I am too late,” he said. “What is the point of this endless struggle, if I am always too late?”
Cole felt the despair kick in. He had fought against it, but the touch of the Darkth meant death. He had banished the demon, but the effect lingered.
“Fool,” he said. “Should have watched your back.”
Cole bowed his head, giving in to his depression was easier than continuing to battle against it. The anger he’d held for the carnage burned itself out, giving way to a bitter anguish. He knew it was the demon’s magic.
Darkness in form, darkness inside, he thought.
The debris in front of him began to move. Cole could feel the pressure of the magic building in his weapons. Something was coming to finish the job. Somehow, he drew enough power to rise to his feet again. He didn’t know if he could heft the two handed katana again, so he drew one of the kukri’’s from the small of his back. The leather sheath hissed as he withdrew the blade. Light surrounded him and filled the area with a song. Cole recoiled from the sound, he had never heard anything so beautiful, yet so pained in all his life. Still, the dirge he heard washed away the pain and the despair.
Weapon in hand, Cole moved forward. He approached the debris. A woman’s body lay next to a man’s.
Not a man, an elf, he thought.
Cole pushed away one of the large support beams. The elf-man’s chest had been crushed. Blood oozed from a dozen wounds. Where the skin was not broken purple bruising had begun to turn black. The elf-man’s face was ashen and his visage showed the anguished last moments of his life. The woman lying next to him cradled something in her arms. Cole could not see what it was as she was huddled over it, blocking it with her body. Her head had been punctured, just below the ear. To Cole, it looked as if a thin blade had been used.
The Darkth then, he thought.
Curious, Cole knelt and pulled back on the woman’s arm. The bones popped and cracked, as if they had been made brittle. He knew that each demon had its own form of attack. The woman’s wounds were consistent with the Darkth.
Small favors, he thought to himself. At least there are no other types of them around.
As the woman’s body fell away from what she had been protecting, Cold rocked back on his heels. A small child, no more than three or four years, lay sleeping on the ground. It was a small boy, with sandy colored hair and soft rounded features, although his ears came to a slight point.
The elf is his father then, Cole thought. That may make his growing up difficult. Who are you kidding Cole? His family is slain; he will be lucky if he has any growing up left to do.
Cole watched the steady rise and fall of the child’s chest. A small wooden locket hung from the child’s neck. He lifted the locket. It was larger than he first thought, although not so large as to be a hindrance to the child’’s movements. In the shape of a lock, the wooden necklace seemed to hum with power.
Cole put away his kukri, which was still emanating a powerful glow of magical energy. When he did, the wooden lock stopped humming as well. The boy began to stir.
“Fear not little one,” Cole said. “I am come to rescue you.”
The boy looked up to Cole and smiled. His smile faded a second later and turned to terror as he pointed behind the Warden. Cole spun on his heel flinging his throwing dagger. A Darkth rose up ready to attack as the dagger flew at it.
“By and by, the Warden’s blade sings!” Cole said, belting out the notes.
The throwing dagger glowed with power and increased its speed. The blade embedded itself in the Darkth’s forehead before the demon burst into specks of darkness. The demon’s power swelled and pulled at Cole and the boy. The Warden turned and grasped the child, running away from the Darkth as its power was destroyed by the dagger. They escaped the swath of destruction wrought by the slain demon and Cole’s dagger returned to his sleeve. The boy was crying.
“There now little one,” Cole said. “All is right again.”
The boy seemed to calm at the sound of his voice and Cole sang the Wardens’ song to him as they left Kriskos behind them. As he sang, the boy slept, but the locket glowed. Cole looked down at it, and he removed the necklace from the boy’s neck. The glow came from within the lock, but he could find no key on the boy.
If there was such a key, surely one of the boy’s parents held it, he thought.
Cole shook his head and placed the locket into one of the pockets of his trousers.
“Now, little one,” he said as he stared at the sleeping child. “What shall we call you?”
* * *
Abercarn Forest: Year 1630 AO
7 Aldfer: Sepal - 7th Hour of Feralda
“Lockwood!” Cole said, snapping. “Put your guard up, if you insist on a forward assault at least keep your guard up.”
The young man, nearly twice as tall as he had been when Cole found him, grumbled his acquiescence. Lockwood raised the staff, point out before him as Cole had taught. The Warden stepped in close with a practice sword and drove it towards Lockwood’s face. The young man, swiped his staff to the right and met the wooden blade. The clack of wood echoed in the small copse.
“Good,” Cole said. “Your offense, is only as good as your defense.”
Lockwood nodded and grinned. He sidestepped and spun, driving the butt of his staff towards Cole’s feet. The experienced Warden skipped a step and Lockwood narrowly missed. Cole swung his practice sword down hard and caught Lockwood in the temple. The young man fell to the ground, groaning.
Cole made a tsk sound and said, “Get up. We’re done for the day. I have to meet with an old friend. It may take the better part of a week, go and stay with your uncle until I come for you.””
Lockwood groaned. “My uncle doesn’t like you, you know.”
“There are some that do not. Go on.”
Cole watched Lockwood leave. He had taken the boy from Kriskos man years ago in what felt like a lifetime ago.
For some, he thought. Seventeen years is a lifetime, for a sad few.
Cole the Sevens had not lied to Lockwood, but he had kept his secrets. After Lockwood left, Cole pulled the simple wooden lock necklace from his pocket. He looked down at the lock, the subtle glow still shone within the keyhole.
What does it mean?
He had asked himself the same question for more than sixteen winters and he still had no answer. Cole shook his head and put the necklace back in his pocket. Someday, he was sure, Lockwood would need the wooden lock that was his namesake, but today was not the time.
* * *
Caerlon: Year 1630 AO
11 Ienfer: Eral - 5th Hour of Eralda
Waywander Tavern
Cole sat in a tavern in the great southern city of Caerlon. The city was the heart of the Marshweld, but it was not Cole’s home. He had tried to live in a city once, but it was far too noisy and he didn’t care to be here now. If Parcival had not insisted on this location, Cole might have lobbied for another.
“I see you have made yourself comfortable,” a hooded figure said, pointing to Cole’s foot up on a chair and the mug of ale in his hand.
“Wouldn’t have had to,” Cole replied. “If you hadn’t taken your sweet time arriving.”
“Tensions with humans are high these days,” Parcival said, lifting his hood just enough to meet Cole’s eyes, then released it again. “One must be careful not to incite the masses.”
“So why meet in a city?”
“Because it is noisy,” Parcival said. “Few ears are keen enough to pay attention, and those that are, hear little.”
Cole had to acknowledge the wisdom in Parcival’s choice, even if he didn’t care for it.
“Tell me about this necklace,” Parcival said.
“Found it, near Kriskos. A band of Darkth slaughtered them, nigh seventeen years ago.”
“And you bring it to me only now?” Parcival asked.
Cole frowned and replied, “I couldn’t find you until now.”
“Fair enough. Wha
t of its bearer?”
“Dead,” Cole said, the lie springing to his lips. “An elf, or part elf.”
“I see,” Parcival said. “I will keep it safe, at Draidemetsar. This should not be in the world where any can lay claim to it.”
“I laid claim to it,” Cole said.
“Aye, but not its key. It is the key that worries me. The Wardens are people’s shield; let a Bladesinger protect the relics of demons.” Parcival held out his hand.
Cole looked at him sideways, but withdrew the wooden lock and laid it on the elf’s palm. Parcival closed his hand and drew it back into his cloak. Then he stood and left the Warden sitting at the table. The entire exchange took less than a few seconds, but to Cole it felt as if something significant had just happened.
“Wench,” Cole said to the barmaid. When she swung by and stopped he said, “Another round, and close out my tab.”
“Aye,” she said. The woman turned and walked away, leaving Cole to his thoughts.
Vandor Map: Age of the Opening
Terms
AB: Age of the Beginning, 4000 AB to 0 AB
AO: Age of the Opening, 0 AB/AO to 2000 AO
Atasat: Soldiers trapped by magic to serve a Sister of the Order, they are zealots that are difficult to kill and can take a great deal of punishment before feeling the effects
Barvvowind: An ancient Keep lost to the ravages of time
Bhaskar: The father of the lesser gods, former husband of the goddess Kokila, brother to the sea goddess Thalassa.
Bladesinger: Warriors dedicated to the eradication of demon-kind. Chosen by the blades of power forged by the Smiths of Bhaskar, the Bladesingers can call upon the magic within the weapon to aid them in their endeavor.
Bridgeguard: Soldiers of Bridgeguard Keep in the Riftlands dedicated to battling the constant onslaught from the demons rising from the Rift
Bridgeguard: Keep The castle hold that serves as the base of operations for the Bridgeguard
Bridgeguard-Captain: Leader of a large contingent of Bridgeguard Soldiers
Bridgeguard-Master: The leader of the entire Bridgeguard
Brotherhood of Assassins: An ancient organization that contracts its members to kill, but has ulterior motives and dark secrets
Captain: Soldiers assigned to a Legionnaire Commander and lead a company of men
Chicken and the Crow: An ancient folk song written for the pan-flute
Clydorein: Elf Language, see Bladesinger
Darkth: Demon-kind that are the remaining essence of slain Oban, they feed on the souls of their victims in order to sustain themselves
Eradri: The larger of Vandor’s two moons, nearly 3/4 the size of the planet itself the moon looms closer in winter and further away in summer
Erreysos in Bhaskar: Elf Language, see Tears of Bhaskar
Fair the Lady's Champ: An ancient court song about a Lady's Champion
Iendri: The smaller of Vandor’s two moons, only an 1/8 of the size of the planet, this moon has a consistent orbit, its proximity to Eradri and in conjunction with causes an eternal maelstrom in the northern sea
Imperator: Right hand to the Praetorate, there are always two, of them the new Praetorate is selected by the Emperor upon the Praetorate's death
Kalsa: Mother of the gods, wife to Kroban, goddess of the air
Kokila: The mother of the lesser gods, former wife of the god Bhaskar
Kriskos: A town north of the Marshweld, considered to be in the badlands between the Marshweld and Winterweld
Kroban: Father of the gods, husband to Kalsa, god of the earth
Legionnaire: A soldier of the Praetorium
Legionnaire Commander: Soldiers assigned a command similar to a general, they answer to the Praetorate and Imperators
Lieutenant: Soldiers assigned to a captain to help lead the company
Lute: A guitar with only 2-4 strings
Maker's Pass: A cavernous ravine with high natural walls on either side, a dangerous ambush point
Marshwelder: People who live in the Marshweld and Winterweld
Midlander: People who live in the Midland Empire
Nirevla: An ancient city destroyed during the opening of the Rift
Oban: The lesser gods, children of Bhaskar and Kokila, some are demons loyal to Kokila, some are angels loyal to Bhaskar, others are immortal wizards who remain neutral
Obanholme: The largest mountain in Vandor, it can be see for hundreds of miles
Pan-flute: A flute made of reeds and wrapped together with cloth
Platoon Leader: Soldiers assigned to a Lieutenant
Praefectus: Soldiers assigned to the Praetorate's guard, lead by the Imperators
Praetorate: Undisputed leader of the Praetorium, answerable only to the Emperor, elected by the Emperor
Ramtoma: A breed of demon-kind loyal to the demonic Oban, they are cowards as individuals, but fight ferociously in a pack, they appear like men with rams horns at the sides of their head
Recruit: Entry level soldier in the Imperial Army
Riftlander: A person or persons dwelling in an area known as the Riftlands, so named for their proximity to a rift torn in the fabric of reality that unleashes demon-kind upon the world.
Rising Sea: An old fisherman's song
Scout: Low ranking militiamen assigned to a platoon to scout the battlefield
Sergeant: Soldiers assigned to a Platoon Leader
Sisters of the Order: An organization of women who have found a means to tapping into divine power through possession and mysticism. Enemy of the Praetorium
Smiths of Bhaskar: An organization of smiths dedicated to creating weapons of power for Bladesingers and Wardens to utilize
Soldier: General military men assigned to a Sergeant
Southlander: People who live in Southerlund
Tears of Bhaskar: Refers to the weapons created by the Smiths of Bhaskar or the metal used to make said weapons.
Thalassa: The sea goddess, sister of the god Bhaskar
Thalassa’s Void: Term the sailors user to refer to the dark depths of the sea
The (Darkling) Flows: Commonly called The Flows, this area is a swampland formerly rolling hills and grassland that has been corrupted by the taint of Kokila.
The Dark Soul Gem: A rich gem of power none know its origin or purpose
The Darkwood: A wooded forest known to harbor evil spirits near Maker's Pass
The Elf Stole my Willow Tree: An ancient folk song about the trickiness of elves
The Lost Post: A potent reminder of the fearsomeness of the Bridgeguard when they go to their last fight, also refers to the former Bridgeguard Keep
The Praetorium: The organized army of the Midland Empire, ruled by the Praetorate who is answerable only to the Emperor
The Purchase: A ritual one of the Sisters of the Order enacts to gain her magical power.
The Rift: A great chasm that was opened in the earth tearing the fabric of reality and unleashing the power of Kokila upon the world. Demons loyal to Kokila rise from the rift in various forms and shapes.
The Toll: An ecstatic feeling of overwhelming joy and pleasure a Sister of the Order feels after utilizing her magic for a length of time, the strength varies based on the amount of magic used
The Veil: An ancient mountain range where Obanholme now stands
VVontar: The god of death, thought to be lost to the world in the ancient days
VVontar's Sheoul: Ancient Language meaning the Soul of VVontar
Warden: Human warriors trained by the elf Bladesingers to use some of the powers in the Tears of Bhaskar, defenders of the common-folk
Westlander or Northlander: People who live west of Obanholme
Whisper in the Weld: An ancient folk song written for the lute
Witch: The term specifically applies to those possessed by one of the demonic Oban, but it is generally used as term to reference any woman who utilizes magic
More Works by this Author
Thank you for readi
ng this Legends of Vandor Collection
You can find the published works individually by publication date below:
Legend of Vandor Short Stories
Vessen Marr, Bladesinger
Bastion Frell, Riftlander
Jessa Poe, Witch
Cortland Dex, Master Bard
Auren Trist, Legionnaire
Cole the Sevens
Cortland Dex, Immortal Journey
The Siege of Haverfjord
Assassin’s Price
Captain Seafang, Pirate Lord of the Maelstrom
Also by this author:
Legends of Vandor Novellas
The Last Bladesinger Part I (Summer 2017)
The Last Bladesinger Part II (Fall 2017)
The Last Bladesinger Part III (Summer 2018)
The Last Bladesinger Part IV (Fall 2018)
The Last Bladesinger Part V (Summer 2019)
The Infinity Verge Trilogy
Kodiak: Infinity Verge Book 1
Atlas: Infinity Verge Book 2
Ursidae: Infinity Verge Book 3
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Table of Contents
Contents
Title
Copyright
A note from the Author
Dedication
Quote
Cortland Dex: Master Bard
Cortland Dex: Immortal Journey
Vessen Marr: The First Bladesinger
Jessa Poe: Witch
Bastion Frell: Riftlander
Assassin's Price
Auren Trist: Legionnaire
The Siege of Haverfjord
Captain Seafang: Pirate Lord of the Maelsea
Cole the Sevens: Warden
Map: Age of the Opening
Terms
More Works
