The Legend of the Seven Sages: The Kin of Caladen

by B. A. Scott

  “What for?” Dareic asked.

  “Because of you, there is one less Zelvanyan in this world. Calcifera and her kin have caused us much grief. They refused to perish, no matter our efforts. They have slain so many of our children. Countless have tried to end her through the ages. All have failed—until you. We have waited a long time for her demise. So, thank you both.”

  “I’d say it was our pleasure,” said Dareic, “but that was a right nasty beast. Why didn’t you try harder to kill it yourselves? Are you not powerful enough?”

  Treäbu elbowed Dareic hard in the ribs.

  “Respect,” he commanded. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

  “Sorry,” Dareic told the Goddess. “I just don’t understand.”

  “It is a fair question,” Arey’n spoke. “Our power is different than you might presume. And after the Golgril withstood a deluge of calamity, we believed it would only fall to the sands of time. Looking back, it seems Calcifera was blessed with longer life than we anticipated. She was half divine, after all.”

  “And the other half?” Dareic asked.

  “Primen,” Arey’n answered.

  “Forgive me,” Treäbu said, looking to his surroundings, “but I thought you lived at the Adorcenn Tower with the other Goddesses.”

  “The Tower is no longer safe. We left its comforts the night Daro took it for his own.”

  “Why didn’t you kill him?” Dareic asked. “It all could have ended that night!”

  But Arey’n shook her head. “We cannot interfere with the lives or matters of the world. We can only guide, teach and advise. In that knowledge, you, our precious creations, must do what you will with the world we have given to you—that the Creator has given to you, for it was He who gave it to us to bless with life.”

  “Were you there—when Daro took the Adorcenn Tower?” Treäbu asked.

  Arey’n closed her eyes as the painful memories of Lord Daro’s overthrowing raced through her mind. “Yes,” she said.” The Human and Borean Sages attempted to bind him, but they failed. And the force of Daro’s magic smashed us all to the ground.”

  “You?” Dareic asked. “The Goddesses?! Daro overpowered you?!”

  The Goddess of Fortune nodded as the memory flooded back to her.

  “Your body is broken, Arey’n,” he said. The Dark Lord’s eyes glowed fiercely as his grip tightened. And in the quiet of the council chamber—the safest haven in all of Adoran—Daro’s words echoed in her ears: “And your world is ended.”

  His free hand clenched and began to glow. When he spread his fingers wide, his forearm erupted in flame.

  The Goddesses Teréyu and Ceraya simultaneously opened their eyes, having regained full consciousness from Daro’s earlier attack. Without hesitation, they each stretched out an arm toward one another, and with their other hands, reached for Arey’n. A white beam of light connected the trinity, and in a blinding flash, they vanished.

  Then, the chamber was quiet, save for the howling wind. Daro stood with his arm still outstretched, though the Goddess who had once been at its end was gone. He unclenched his fist, and brought it to his side.

  “Run,” he said. “Run and hide.”

  “And then we retreated to our sanctuaries,” Arey’n finished. “Where we will be safe, at least for a time.”

  Dareic’s heart sank. “That’s it,” he said. “We’re done for.”

  “Arey’n,” Treäbu began, “There is something I must know. Are there any Tyken who survived the attack in Warruntyne?” The Goddess looked at Treäbu with sympathetic eyes.

  “The Tyken,” she said somberly, “are no more.”

  “Oh, save us,” Treäbu uttered. “Daro cannot be contested, Arey’n. Is there hope for any of us now?”

  “Yes, there is,” Arey’n spoke softly. “Indeed, Lord Daro’s magic has grown strong. The weapons you would use against him, now, will fail. But there is one—only one—that will not. It alone will pierce Daro’s magic. It alone will strike where no other weapon can.” Arey’n drew a slow breath, closed her eyes, then spoke as if every word she uttered was holy beyond comprehension. “The Blade of Origin,” she said. “The sword of creation. The very one that forged all life on this world, given to us by the Creator, which holds more purity, more divinity, and more power than any tool made by the hands of those it created. The Blade cannot be shielded. Nor can it be bent or broken. No magic can hold it, for nothing is greater than the Blade. It is pure, perfect. And undoubtedly, the sole instrument of your survival.”

  “This is a thing of Gods,” Treäbu said. “The Blade of Origin has never even been seen by mortal eyes. Some scarcely believe it exists at all—‘a myth,’ they call it.”

  Arey’n raised her palms. “These hands have grasped its very hilt. It is as real as you or I, my child.”

  “I don’t understand,” Dareic interjected. “I don’t understand how all our hopes rest on this one sword. Why won’t the weapons we use against Daro be effective? That’s what you said, isn’t it?”

  Arey’n sighed. “Some things,” she said, “you must discover for yourselves.”

  “And would the location of the Blade of Origin be such a thing?” Treäbu asked eagerly.

  The Goddess smiled, and drifted backwards, floating over the glowing pool. “The sanctuary of my sister, Teréyu, Goddess of Earth, lies near Valea, in the mountains of the winged ones. Just as I reside on the border of the Corren’dai to protect its boundaries, so she dwells to ensure the secrecy and concealment of the Blade. If you go to her, she will guide you. But a warning to you both,” the torches along the walls dimmed. “Whoever claims the Blade of Origin must first possess the power of the Avenflame, fountain of the Erygians.”

  “The Celestial Blaze?” Treäbu asked. “But Avenalora’s been lost for centuries!”

  “Only with the gift can one endure the power of the Blade,” Arey’n continued. “Without it, you would not be able to withstand its unfathomable might, for it is too much to bear for mortal hands alone. To hold something divine, you will need the light of the heavens within you.”

  “Impossible,” Treäbu said. “Impossible! Avenalora is lost! Yet within it lies the key to our salvation, you say? How many men have searched for it all their lives and found nothing? How many have died in pursuit of its discovery. By the time we’ve given up hope in searching, lost in the wilderness of some wretched stretch of land, Caleton will be long destroyed, as will the rest of Adoran. Forgive me, my Goddess. But it seems a foolish impossibility.”

  “Do not confuse impossibility with difficulty,” Arey’n spoke. “Arduous is the path of the righteous. Such is the path before you.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?” Treäbu asked the Goddess. “We’re on our way to Skaelwood. Daro will march on Caleton, and Dareic is bringing King Mercer’s call for aid to the Skaelar. Should we abandon our plans and wander the land, in search of Avenalora?”

  “I would not deter from your course,” Arey’n answered. “The Skaelar presence at Caleton is essential if the city is to stand any chance against an attack.”

  “Can you help us?” Dareic asked. “Please. Can you do anything to sway the battle in our favor?”

  “As for the battle, I cannot,” Arey’n responded sadly, “for interference with the paths of mortals, and denying the bounds of my divinity is forbidden. However, I do possess the liberty to bestow an extraordinary gift to one of you.”

  “One of us?” Treäbu asked.

  “Yes. What is your greatest need at this time?”

  Dareic and Treäbu thought, but it was Dareic who spoke first.

  “Speed,” he said. “I fear time is against us. And I’ve been slowing Treäbu down ever since he got stuck with me.”

  “Very well,” said Arey’n as her eyes began to glow. She reached her right arm toward Dareic, palm upwards, and proceeded to raise it slowly. As she did, Dareic felt the air about him grow lighter. At first, he thought he was growing taller, but when his toes no l
onger touched the ground, he realized Arey’n was lifting him into the air. The flames in the torches flickered, and Dareic felt a breeze upon his body. The surface of the pool rippled as tremors coursed through the cavern walls.

  “Watch closely, my child,” the Goddess told Treäbu. “This is a very special thing to see.” Then, Arey’n abruptly motioned her outstretched hand so that her palm faced Dareic, whose feet dangled above the platform. His arms spread wide, and Treäbu was shaken to the ground.

  The pool of water around the platform spread to the perimeter of the cavern, and traveled up its walls, between the torches, like great tidal waves, suspended in their emergence. As the wall of water moved upward, droplets fell like misty rain upon the ground.

  All the while, Dareic had no control over his body. Arey’n clenched her hand into a fist, and reopened it violently. Every one of the torches erupted, and sent flames in a blazing cord to Dareic’s body. Dareic felt their fires flowing into him. His insides tingled with warmth, then began to sear with a nearly unbearable burning. His heart raced furiously, and felt as if it would thump right through his chest.

  At last, with an explosion of light, Dareic yelled until all the air in his lungs was gone. The torches retreated as quickly as they had erupted, and the waves that flowed between them crashed down to the barren cavern floor, forming once again, a calm, peaceful pool. Arey’n lowered Dareic to the platform. He touched down lightly, and when he finally stood on his own two feet again, Treäbu rose beside him.

  “You okay?” the Skaelar asked.

  “Yeah,” Dareic said, surprised at Treäbu’s concern.

  “To you, Dareic Caladen,” Arey’n spoke, “I grant the gift of Momentum.”

  “What’s that?” Dareic asked.

  “A new ally in your race against time,” said the Goddess. “Let energy, endurance, and as you asked for, speed, be with you. Additionally, with the gift of Momentum comes the potential for even more. You are on your way to Skaelwood Forest, are you not? You may drink from the Fountain of Skael’demále, and be refreshed.”

  Dareic did not understand what the Goddess implied. But Treäbu clearly did.

  “Holy...” said the Skaelar.

  “What?” Dareic asked.

  “She—she made you a wielder of magic.”

  Dareic’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Arey’n.”

  The Goddess bowed her head slightly in acceptance of Dareic’s gratitude, then began drifting back toward her throne.

  “And now,” she said, “you must be on your way. I ask that you keep the location of my sanctuary secret. It is hidden for a reason.”

  “We will,” said Dareic.

  “Farewell, my children,” Arey’n said in her loving, resonating voice. Then, the circular platform glowed with the same intense light that the circle of stones had glowed with at the surface. A beam of light rose from the platform to the rocky ceiling above.

  Dareic and Treäbu began to float upward, yet just when they thought their heads would meet the cavern ceiling, another light met their eyes. It was sunlight, partially blocked by large leaves on branches, swaying gently in a breeze.

  Dareic looked to his feet, discovering that he and Treäbu stood once again in the circle of white stones—the ground in which faded from its brilliant glow to the normality of leaves and flower petals.

  “So, I’ve been thinking,” Dareic said. “Back in the Corren’dai, after I ran back to help you, I’m sure there was a lot of us saving each other’s hides going on.”

  “What are you saying?” Treäbu asked.

  “I’m saying I don’t know what the score is between us—who saved whose life more. All I know is that you delivered the killing stroke.”

  “Which you made possible,” said the Skaelar.

  “Right,” said Dareic. “Still, I’ve decided to relieve you of your debt to me. You’ve been through enough on my account, and I have a feeling if you stick with me, that unbreakable honor of yours is gonna get you killed.”

  Treäbu considered the offer with a deeply conflicted weight upon his brow. He looked longingly to the trail ahead, then back to Dareic. “First of all,” he spoke at last, “you can’t do that. Second, I travel with you now, because I choose to. Come on.”

  Treäbu led Dareic into the trees. Dareic ran as fast as his legs would carry him—slowly at first, but once he gained momentum, he caught up to the Skaelar—to both of their amazements.

  “Buggar me!” Treäbu exclaimed, increasing his speed such that the leaves blurred around him. Yet stride for stride, Dareic met his pace.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 12: Intentions

  Daro sat in silent mediation as a knock resounded at his chamber door, breaking his concentration.

  “Enter,” he spoke, and a Primen presented itself.

  “My Lord,” it said, “a messenger from the regiment at Trendell has arrived, bearing relics for your honor. He awaits you in the council chamber.”

  Daro rose at once and sped to the top of the Adorcenn Tower, where a Blessed One knelt upon his entrance.

  “Rise, my child,” Daro told it. “What have you brought?”

  The Blessed opened a large chest for Daro to inspect.

  “We plundered the town, and found a chamber concealed beneath an unmarked grave,” it said. “It held many trinkets. There is an account of each.” It handed Daro a small, leather-bound roll of parchment.

  “Defiling graves,” Finwynn said from above. “Is nothing beneath you?”

  Daro ignored the comment, and read the parchment.

  “An ancient stash, it seems,” he said. “The Human Sage, Azlara. She lived not two and a half centuries ago.”

  He laid the parchment aside, and withdrew a small pouch from the chest, then poured its contents into his hand—a silver ring, topped with a blue gemstone, cut to resemble an open eye. “A ring of Everwake—to never tire, never sleep,” he spoke, impressed, then placed it back in the pouch. He drew three books from the chest, then read their titles.

  “A Study of Fury and Water, and this—a tome on Gale application. And—” he paused in utter delight. “Theories of Union: Volume Three.” He set down the other two books and delicately wiped the dust from the third.

  “Something strike your fancy?” Finwynn asked.

  “I have explored union spells in ways you could never dream,” Daro said. “Every wielder is drawn to disciplines they find appealing.” He carefully opened the book and gently shook the dirt from its pages. “You, Finwynn, I’ve heard, have devoted many years to understanding hover charms. I have always been fascinated by union spells. To bind an object within another, imbuing it with new properties—and at the same time, protecting it. You have undoubtedly learned the long-taught method of performing a union spell—such a rudimentary technique. But I have discovered many different methods. Each distinctly unique in execution, and each with their own advantages. A find like this is always a delight,” he presented the book, “to read how far others have gone in their pursuit.”

  Daro placed the book back in the chest, and withdrew a stunning emerald sword, sheathed in hardened leather. “Azlara named this Stonecutter,” he said, unsheathing the blade. “She writes of it cutting through marble like silk. I shall examine its properties. If it proves legitimate, it may be worthy of binding with my blade, imbuing Redentor with its talents.”

  “Redentor—‘the Redeemer,’” Finwynn said. “Is that what you’ve named that death blade at your hip?”

  Daro sheathed the emerald sword, and drew his own, displaying it for the Sage to see.

  “My greatest furentus,” he said. “The essence of three blades lie within its metal— blades of power, spread across the land, guarded as a treasure should be. As each was found and joined with my own, so its power grew. Within this dark exterior lies the Diamond Sword of Fringen Isle—unbreakable and forever resilient. The Feather Blade, forged by Rigel the Reverent of the Valean Aeroli—a we
ightless weapon, yet one that delivers a deadly, heavy stroke. And a sword of Eversteel—unmeltable, crafted by the Incinian Sage, Creos, long after the War. Three swords, bound within the body of one.”

  He once again drew the emerald sword, and held it side by side with his own. “With any fortune,” he said, eyeing Stonecutter’s craftsmanship. “This will make the fourth.”

  * * * * *

  Kade usually found peace in the comfort of Athiux’s chambers. Her grandfather’s presence had always been soothing, ever since she was a child. She loved him like a father, like a mentor and took every word he said to heart. Yet as she paced back and forth, even in his presence, Kade found no peace of mind.

  “I don’t have to be mind-marked with you to see that you are troubled,” said the Sage.

  “These Caladen brothers—ambassadors—they’ve put my mind through hell,” said Kade.

  “Are you prepared to leave with them?” asked the Sage.

  “I am,” said Kade. “But I do not wish to go.”

  “You have been given a very important task,” Athiux said. “It must be done.”

  Kade’s lips did not move, yet her hands were busy—fidgeting, feeling her bracelets and adjusting her necklaces. “I don’t—I just—” she said, but the words would not come.

  Athiux’s voice turned tender and fatherly. “What, child? What is it you fear?” he asked. “Speak to me.”

  Kade closed her eyes and stopped her pacing upon hearing the question. She shook her head, and spoke quietly, “Aside from my task, even with my presence, Caleton doesn’t stand a chance against Daro. You know it just as well as I. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Athiux lowered his gaze. “That is why I’ve decided to go with you,” Athiux said.

  “What?” Kade asked, surprised. “Why?”

  “Why do you think? Were our places exchanged, the Human Sage would come to our call. So I will defend his city in his stead. But moreover, I’m coming to ensure we’re paid our price for the Tears of Life. The other Enchanters will understand. By whatever means, I intend to discover who among our people dared to defy our laws and commit such a heinous act.”