A Legacy of Blades - An Epic Tower Fantasy

Shockingly, Anilith's journey out of the Forest was far less eventful than her entrance. As it turned out, forest creatures didn't take to the commotion of a skirmish in their midst, if the unnatural stillness of the woods hadn't given that away already. Even the predators gave the fight a wide enough berth that she made it clear of the tree line before the more inquisitive of the bunch deemed it safe enough to investigate.

Eventful or not, her body betrayed her nerves through its sporadic, uncontrollable shaking. The dearth of adrenaline left her in a state of vibrational distress, but waiting in the forest for her body to reacclimate didn't strike her with the ring of wisdom. All things considered, she was glad to see the trees begin to thin up ahead, marking the boundary between the deep woods and the vastly tamer woodland which bordered the Plains.

Anilith found it strange that she could see the subtle differences indicating this demarcation of territory, when on the journey inward, she only noted the decrease of ambient light. Now, she noted an uptick in the presence of small greenery and shrubberies. The trees were less imposing, and finding a path forward was easier here, as the space between the trees increased.

Perhaps most interesting of all, she was struck by the aromas of the woodlands. Further in, near where she was ambushed, the air held a heavy must, rich with signs of decay. This wasn't the unhealthy rot of disease, nor was it the foul stagnation of the swamps she knew as home, where an ill-advised step might render any perfume useless for a week or more. This was the earthy smell of healthy rot feeding back into the roots that drank deep from the soil, a smell expelled as each step disturbed the dry leafy detritus of the deep woods floor. Here, at the more pleasant edge of the Forest, the smell of decay intermingled with scents of berries, flowering plants, and wildlife, painting an eclectic image of life.

How smell alone could tell such a story, Anilith wasn't sure, yet it whispered to her with the voice of truth. What did she know, though? After all, this was her first time in a forest, and she'd held her eyes wide shut during the inward journey, ignorant of so much that surrounded her.

"Would I even appreciate this beauty if not for those creatures?" She mused, "Certainly not if they'd succeeded."

A bout with danger does wonders for one's appreciation of the wider world, for nothing ever smells as sweetly as a life that nearly wasn't. It is an eerie gratitude, the appreciation for those who wished you harm, but something cherished by her people. Challenges must be overcome for greatness to flourish. As the swamplands ever shift at the whims of nature and its great beasts, so her people knew that stagnation only leads to rot and a slow death.

Anilith's Master had often reprimanded her for her tendency to wax poetic in her musings, reminding her that a distracted mind makes for easy prey. The ghosts of the mind hold pressing danger for their ability to obscure reality.

"You are a warrior," her master was wont to remind her, "not some village leader with the leisure of pursuing philosophy. Your mind must be sharp, honed for its own good and the detriment of your enemies. Beware its edge, lest you fall victim to your own observations. Awareness is a tool: a tool that often blinds one to that which is overlooked for its unremarkable nature."

She'd survived one ambush today, however, and let her mind wander as the energy and adrenaline dripped from her body like molasses. She needed to keep hold of her focus to keep herself from crashing, just not so tightly as to drain herself through a constant state of hyper awareness. She had found, particularly after lessons with the Relic, that it was best to gradually ease into a state of relaxation.

Sighing, she hoisted her bag of spoils, a hodge-podge bag she'd cobbled together from the scraps worth saving from the creatures' garb, higher on her shoulder and continued her trek townward, seeing the Forest's edge ahead, the Plains appeared like an immense clearing after the encompassing claustrophobia of the trees.

On her journey from Spokane, Anilith had avoided the outpost nearest the Forest. She hadn't wanted to get distracted and lose any more time than she already had that day. She had no such compunction on her return. From the edge of the forest, she gazed across the flat expanse of the Plains and saw the outpost rising like a beacon a few miles away. She couldn't help but notice that the sun had remained high in the sky for an unusually long time, but chalked that up to another aspect of the Tower's altered nature.

In the world she knew, she would have had to break multiple times by now to avoid travelling in the dark, when unknown terrors lurked. Here, she had ample time to make the journey at a steady, maintainable pace. In no particular hurry, she made for the outpost in the distance while observing her surroundings in greater detail than the last time she passed through the area, only hours before.

She spotted nothing except natural wildlife, even if the variety of creatures was astounding. Some were so small, she hardly would have noticed them if she weren't taking in every detail. They dug in the dirt, making burrows to hide from the larger animals. None of these seemed dangerous, unless they threatened a farmer's livelihood.

Smaller still were the insects. They moved in such numbers as to astound her, now that she took the time to look. How many had she crushed in her passing without ever knowing they were there? How many died each day from the unrelenting march of nature? Still, they moved in greater numbers than any other creature she saw. If they were to ever rise up and seek control, she couldn't imagine the fight being anything but devastating. Their numbers dwarfed the critters, which already were more numerous than she could have imagined.

While watching the blades of grass blowing in the wind, Anilith thought of her Master. Life in this place, so different from her homeland, all existed in the familiar embrace of the wind. In its touch, she felt a whisper of the Blade Weaver, but knew it was something more. He, for all he meant to her, was just a man, a fleeting existence in the permanence of the world. This breath spoke of eons, of the breadth of Life it embraced. Only now, feeling the influence it must have had on him, did she appreciate his true reverence for the Wind, and knew it was not simply a function of nature to him. Without a doubt, he was gifted in ways she could never understand, but she could see the echoes the Wind left in its passing, just for knowing him.

Each beast left its mark, a blank spot in the canvas, an absent whisper that belied its presence. As astounded as she was already, her senses expanded, guided by the Wind's touch, showing her a world of motion that defied comprehension. In that moment, she felt so small. She was an insect next to the scope of the Wind's embrace, and even the largest beasts on the plains were insignificant next to the potential it held. Within that gentle touch lay the potential to spread life to all corners of the world, or to end it on a whim.

A trance came over her as she lost herself in the Wind. It was separate from the trance of Blade Weaving, as she felt it, yet familiar. She was hardly aware of her actions, so enthralled was she in her experience with the Wind. Her body moved automatically, aware of its surroundings, yet the lines between herself and her surroundings were indistinguishable to her perception. No animal moved without her awareness touching it, and yet she couldn't feel the Wind's touch on her own face. In a few areas, she could even tell there was something there, but could pick out nothing beyond the void in the Wind that betrayed that something's presence. It was, in a word, intoxicating.

She felt in touch with everything from the grass to the birds that fluttered in air currents she'd never have imagined possible. It was as if her eyes could see for the first time. The Wind blew refreshing and cool, a balmy blue in her sight, only she didn't see it with her eyes, but sensed the Wind's passage with something greater. She knew, in an impossible way, the breath of the world, felt the breath of every creature, and the ebb and flow of the minute currents they caused in the atmosphere. Every creature was connected in that breath, and the world breathed through them all. The Wind was not some force of nature, but something more: a force of Life and Death. She knew all of this as surely as she knew the truth of her love for her family.

Until, suddenly, the awareness left her, and the world around her was lesser for its loss, leaving her standing on the outskirts of the outpost, unaware of her part in the journey. She wondered if her Master experienced something like that trance, but suspected it was a gift greater still. For the first time, she'd caught a glimpse of how Master saw so much at all times. She had always thought it was his great skill at Blade Weaving that gave him such insight, but now she couldn't help but wonder. The thought passed as a summer breeze, the Wind and the secrets that it whispered, gone with a terrible quickness, her awareness of the world now all too mundane, reminding her vividly of the abrupt severance of her connection with her siblings and, nearly as great a loss, with Temperance. Together, they represented a foundation she could always rely on, a place to which she could always return.

In that moment, the reality of the Forest settled over her. She was fine, but she had walked a narrow ledge. One false step would have meant her end, but more importantly, it would have meant never returning.

She stood and she wept at the loss of the Wind's beauty; she stood, and she wept at the pain she had buried. She stood until the sun began to dip low in the artificial sky, unaware of how long that took, not caring if any were watching.

"Pashikh? Of all the bivouacs in the world, in all the outposts, in all the Tower, I walk into yours."

"Pardon, Lady, who mistakes me for who I am not, you must have me confused with my brother. I am Dashikh, more handsome than my brother, by far."

To Anilith's eye, there was little, if any, difference between the two men, and only the feeling in her gut told her that he was telling the truth. Even his calculating smile was a perfect mirror of his brother's.

Whatever scale they judged their looks on was beyond her understanding, but she saw no benefit from wasting time contemplating such inanity. "Alright, alright. Let's say I believe you and move on. Your brother deals in information; what's your deal?"

"Dashikh is a purveyor of many things," he said with a trademark smile. "For some, this means information; for others, I can procure more…specialized requests. For you, Lady An Illith, who mistakes me for who I am not, I bear a message. I see, from the…bag, shall we call it? That you carry, my delivery may already be late."

Anilith met his gaze with an even stare, no emotion coloring her face.

He continued, unperturbed, "My brother Pashikh has asked me to pass on this message: 'I felt, on your departure, that my warnings may have been too gentle. It gladdens me that you have stopped at the outpost and not foolishly ventured further with a lack of information. This is something I never recommend, and further suggest you be wary of departing the Plains before you have experienced some of what our benevolent host has to offer. Most report having…unfamiliar experiences, shall we say, in their first days in the Tower. Best to avoid unexpected changes in life-threatening situations, yes? Ah, and do visit the noticeboard before you go. One always discovers more when they know what they are seeking.'"

Anilith briefly wondered how Pashikh could have known which way she would go, having a message waiting at the outpost nearest her destination, but she chalked it up to secrets she would one day uncover.

Dashikh smiled, looking almost uncomfortable. It was an expression his features were ill-suited to convey. "He will be glad to hear of your return. I must ask, though. What brings you to the outpost, having already ventured beyond? Surely, one capable of such a feat would feel comfortable in the Plains, even in darkness."

Anilith scratched her head, her discomfort more practiced than Dashikh's. "Well, I didn't have a clear plan, per se, when I set out…this morning?" She shook her head, "It doesn't seem like it could have been only this morning, but it has been a big day, I guess."

"Ah, yes. The day does flow differently here, does it not? It is easy to forget, after a time, but our days stretch longer, and our nights pass quickly. It is, shall we say, good for business. More time to be active in one's pursuits in the daylight, and less opportunity for nefarious activities under cover of night."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Yeah. Sure, I guess. Anyway, my feet got carried away, and before you knew it, I was a little bit farther into the Forest than I meant to be, may have gotten into a bit of a tough scrape, and I find myself in possession of some items I might pass on to another, for a price. I figured the outpost might hold some ideas as to where I might find such an individual."

With an air of seriousness, the merchant nodded once. "This is true and well thought, but I would caution you against offloading too much treasure in such a place. Notices hold value here, for they must be turned in at the Hall in Spokane. Vendors, however, must transport goods back themselves, and still seek to make a profit for their trouble, so they will not offer as good prices as town-bound merchants. It is fair and useful for lightening one's load of less desirable goods, but time is money, as they say, and for your time, you might earn more money. Here is an address of one who might assist you. He offers fair prices, well, for those with whom he chooses to do business." He held his hand out with a slip of paper between two fingers.

Anilith wasted no time and jumped up at those words, grabbing the paper from the man. "Well, best be off then. I'll see you around, Dash! 'Til next time, thanks!"

Dashikh sat until the girl was out of earshot. "Ah, but she truly does not waste time, does she, Pashikh?"

A voice came from somewhere within Dashikh's billowing robes, "No, Dashikh, she certainly does not. Ah, but it is good to see the fervor of youth."

"You have always had a soft spot for the strange ones, Pashikh. Let us hope it pays off this time, or you shall find yourself yet further still in debt," Dashikh finished with a laugh.

It was near dark when Anilith arrived back in Spokane and, seeing as she was unfamiliar with the town to begin with, she set out for the address on the paper the next day, after a proper rest at her quarters and having neglected to visit any noticeboard on the way. Anilith pushed open the door and stepped into a dimly lit room. Moments passed as her eyes adjusted before she noticed a wispy-haired, scraggly, middle-aged man staring at her with one wide eye. The store was in a spectacular state of disarray, and the man seemed perfectly at home.

"Never seen you around before," the shopkeep noted conversationally, seemingly oblivious to Anilith taking in the mess. "Must be a new batch of meat here, eh? Been too long since anyone's come through with promise, heads always filled with glory and honor. Well, missy, glory and honor are all well and good but, let me tell you, there ain't nobody tellin' stories of all them what never comes home, y'hear?"

Anilith couldn't help but be frustrated at her inability to get a word in, but she resigned herself to waiting out the shopkeep's rambling. 'It was unwise,' Master always said, 'to offend somebody with whom you wish to make a deal.' Rocky, uneven ground makes for a bad foundation, after all. So, she smiled and nodded along.

"…no sirree, that's what I say! Couldn't pay me to go back out in the field, no sir. Er… ma'am. Agh, you know what I'm sayin. After the third time I lost a digit, my favorite one, I might add, I swore off the merits of glory. More glory to be found as a lowly peddler than dead in a ditch, or worse, summat's belly." He shook his head with a bruuughh, his cheeks flapping freely.

Anilith smiled, a genuine smile, finding it remarkable how skilled this man was at saying nothing of substance while saying so much.

"Now, what brings you to Ol' Mingus' shop, little lady?" asked the shopkeep, who certainly didn't look all that old. "Lookin' to buy," he said with hope in his voice. "Or maybe I should take it by the sack over your back that you're one of them glory-addled fools looking to sell your spoils." He spat on the ground

Stepping over the expectoration with which the shopkeep had emphasized his disdain, Anilith plopped her sack on the counter. Still holding it by the neck, she made eye contact with Mingus, noting the way his eyes lingered on the aperture.

"Now, sir," Anilith replied in mock disdain, "A girl's got to eat, so if you aren't prepared to give me a fair deal for my trouble, I'm happy to find someone who will."

"Well, missy," chuckled the self-proclaimed old-timer, "can't say what's fair 'til I see what you done hunted, out there in the wilds. Market saturation and demand and all that hubbub, best be hopin' what you got's better than the average schmuck, walkin' in here all swagger and charm. I gots more charm under my left arm than most of these 'heroes.' Ended more fisticuffs 'fore they started with this here beaut," he finished, punctuating his statement with a smooch to his pit, as an undeniable odor wafted free for a moment.

Anilith's eyebrows rose of their own volition, thankfully more due to surprise and amusement than any affectation of the stench.

"Well, I can't promise it'll all be top of the line, especially as I am, as you've so aptly noted, new in town," she began, "but in hindsight, I probably could have been more careful on my first time out. No chance of a deal for a first timer looking for a good working relationship? Surely, there can't be many vendors with your gumption for salesmanship."

"Hee-hee-hee! Well now, missy, ain't no need for butterin' me up, I'm already an ol' greaseball as is, but I can 'preciate your practiced eye for refinement and class," he spat, positively dripping with their opposite. "Let your goods speak for 'emselves an' we'll see if we can't figure somethin' more long term," he straightened his back to maximize his unimpressive full height, "so long as you meet my particular standards."

Still holding the bag shut, Anilith replied, "Well, I can only hope to live up to your expectations. Unfortunately, I can't say I was out there looking for anything as impressive as glory or honor. Honestly, payment hadn't even crossed my mind when I left town. No, my foolish behind was only out looking for the experience. There's just so much to see here, how could anyone wait to go explore all of it?"

"Well, now, that's somethin' I can respect, even if I prefer to experience it from the safe side of a counter. Hooo-wee! There sure is a lot to see in this little ol' world of ours. Few an' far between, pursuits noble as experience. One of the rare few aims in life that anyone can 'spire to. Met folks with more experience in their big toe than many warriors have in their whole body, course some of 'em still couldn't stop a blade to save their life," cackled Old Mingus. "Open'er up an' we'll give it a fair shot."

Letting the sack fall from her grasp, Anilith saw the glimmer in his eyes return with a vengeance.

"Hooo-wee! Let me tell you, there's nothin' that beats the rush of openin' up a mystery. Nothin', y'hear! Now scoot scoot, let's see what you got. Ain't beat around the bush that much since I was a young'un missin' his love, not that it weren't fun. Rare few that 'preciates Mingus anymore," he said with a sad wink.

Old man Mingus pried open the bag's makeshift portal with a practiced hand, the sides falling away neatly and exposing the treasures within.

"Huh. Well, ain't what I'd call treasure per say," the vendor muttered as he pulled out a gray dismembered hand, "normally folks bring in the shiny stuff and jewels, pokey stabbys, and whatnot. This here, well…not what I imagined from a first timer."

Anilith's face fell at the realization that she might have wasted time gathering useless junk. "So, it's no good?"

"Now, I didn't say that there, missy! Just surprised me, 'sall. Yeah, some o' the stuff is right useless, but not to us what knows our audience. Trophy hunters are interested in the darndest things."

He sifted through the goods a few minutes before settling on a pair of unsettling objects.

"Well, well. Lookie here, you did bring me some jewels after all," he exclaimed while reaching into the bag and hoisting a couple of oblong spheres, not unlike large grapes, into the air, giggling like a prepubescent boy. He set them aside and dove into the task at hand with renewed vigor.

He sifted through the contents of the sack, remarking to himself as he sorted various oddments into piles. The collection of weapons, largely rusted daggers of no fine make, denoted the most normal of the piles. Anyone wandering into the shop and witnessing the scene being laid out on the counter would be unlikely to linger, even if Mingus' other wares were actually plated in precious metals, which, of course, they were not. There is a certain sense of unease found only in the staring eyes of an unseeing, beheaded creature.

After a time, the bag lay limp and empty on the counter, surrounded by mounds of varying disturbance. "Well, I'll level with ya here, little lady," Mingus started, sounding more serious than she'd heard him yet as he indicated the pile of dismembered digits and appendages, "this here'll present some challenge to pawn off. Very niche market for such oddments, but I might know a guy what might be able to help, so I'll still give ya a fair price to take 'em off your hands." The gleam in his eye betrayed his internal pleasure at his macabre humor. "Always someone what thinks strange things lucky."

Jotting down a quick note on a pad he had kept under the counter, he moved on to the next pile.

"This un here should move quick enough. More'n a few folks 're fond o' displayin' ol' gobber heads round here. Hard to spit in these parts without it hittin' someone who's been on the receivin' end o' their cruelty. I 'spect you might be seein' your handiwork displayed 'round town if'n you keep your eyes open, which I heartily recommend you do," he said as he set one of the heads apart, "got some questions 'bout this one, though, once we get through the chaff."

Anilith nodded and bid him continue.

"These here weapons, if'n you're so inclined to call 'em such, won't be worth much. Too poorly made, but someone or another 'll surely melt 'em down for arrowheads or such," he said before sweeping them off the counter into a previously unoccupied bin. "No sirree, ya can't ever have enough o' those, not 'round here, anyway."

The only pieces he set aside from the stack of armaments were the sliver of wood she'd taken from the flame wielder, which he placed next to its owner's flesh-riden skull, and the ball-peen hammer with its accompanying cylinder.

"The story builds itself 'fore me eyes," Mingus muttered, shaking his head. He moved on to the final pile, the scraps of armor she had salvaged.

"Now, no adventurer in their right mind's gonna use most o this, an' I'll likely have it melted down just the same. Take a mighty fine need to use summat as might fail any moment," Mingus laughed, "always remember, missy, ol' reliable's an adventurer's truest friend."

He hefted one group of items, one after another, from the pile before discarding the rest into the bin with the weapons, declaring, "This, however, tells a different tale."

He held in his hand one piece of earthen armor she had managed to salvage from Rock-stomper's crushing demise, eyeing it carefully, before he put it in a pile with the few other salvageable pieces. Strangely, most of the armor left visible had begun crumbling the moment the tree, a true hero and one she would remember for its sacrifice, snuffed his wick. Anilith had managed to salvage at least these few bloodstained bits of rock from the splatter once known as Distraction.

"You prob'ly don't know what these here is," Mingus began quietly, "but their worth's greater than nearly the rest o' your haul combined. Nearly."

Seeing he wasn't going to get a reaction from the young woman, he continued, "Curious, that. Largest manafested armor I ever seen intact. Don't know how much you know 'bout magic, an' conjuration in particular, but few things linger after the death o' the caster. That you managed to bring me a piece like that, well. Curious. The right mind could glean great insight from such a piece, learn paths untread for ages. Magic, y' see, is a right lesson in perspective, an' too few're willin' to look outside their own to learn anythin' worthwhile. This here can offer that insight, to those what know to look."

Magic. The word felt funny in her mind, like a forgotten secret that lay hidden behind the curtain of Ages. Even with the Primer's assistance, she was hard pressed to find more than a contextual understanding, but knew it related to the gifts of her people.

Mingus gestured to the smallest pile he had set aside, distracting her from her musings.

"On any normal day, which this un surely ain't," he went on with a sigh, "this would be your treasure. Most folk pray for a haul like this, an' only see such on rare occasions, but its worth pales next to them hunks o' rock. Tell Ol' Mingus how you came by this all."

Now, all children of the Moors have some skill in oration, oral tradition being a definitive aspect of their cultural history, but Anilith wouldn't count herself among the most skilled she'd heard. Still, she spun old Mingus the yarn of the day that led her to his doorstep, emphasizing her conquest of the flame-wielder in those final moments of the battle, notably leaving out any mention of how she actually killed the thing. It wasn't exactly a lie to say she cut him in half.

"Gifted, ya say," he interrupted, "Yer one o' them, I s'pose. Figures ya might be, got the right attitude an' such."

She continued when he didn't add more, glossing over the more gruesome details of her looting. Mingus had already seen the outcome of that, after all. Likewise, she only briefly told of her uneventful egress from the darkness of the deep woods, skipping her experience with the Wind.

Finishing her story with her brief stay at the outpost, she said, "So the handsome brother, by all accounts I've heard, pushed me your way, and here we are, Ming Ming."

When she finished, he sputtered, clearly having struggled to keep it in that long, "you must be some kinda dumb fool, blessed idjit, or a talent what like the world ain't seen in an age to 'ave survived that your first time outta town: and let me tell you there ain't never a talent like the world ain't seen. Best thank the spirit watchin' your back, missy."

He added as an apparent afterthought, "An' ya need some work with your 'dentification skills, there, missy. You ain't fight one 'gifted,' but three."