A Legacy of Blades - An Epic Tower Fantasy

Orion plodded through the shadows on the outskirts of the Plains. He'd slipped out of the city, unnoticed, through the southern gate and made his way south-east from there. He had business near the marshlands this evening. It was time to meet with a friend who owed him a favor.

The night air was still cool here; he savored the crisp feeling. Of all the lands here, none of them brought him peace like the green and gold crested hills. The Swamplands reminded him of a time before, a person ignorant of the greater possibilities of the world. He was more, now, cultured. Oh, he'd tasted the finer things in life during his time, but that never held a candle to the freedom he felt in the wilderness.

Still, not all places were created equally. He always dreaded the transition into the wetlands. "Wet" didn't begin to describe it. The air morphed from inviting, cool breaths to a dense, cloying, choking moisture in the span of a step. Even knowing in advance, the transition still physically hurt every time. The wonderful shift in aromas didn't help much, either.

A bog isn't exactly a fun tourist destination for all, and comes with its own suite of odors and sensations. Being walloped all at once with the full gamut was always a breathtaking experience.

Orion thought to himself, 'Now just gotta remember to keep moving, unless I want to lose a boot.'

With each step, the swampland tried to pull him in deeper. Only slow, constant steps kept him from being reclaimed by the sucking bog. The cloth he had used to seal the gap between his pants and boots, although ruined itself, was doing a proper job of keeping the worst of the swamp from his underclothes. He'd still need to take a pitstop at a stream to get the stink off him after this, though.

Orion wandered until he reached a drier, raised section of swamp. The circle of land stood above its surroundings like a wart on a toad's backside, or perhaps a turtle submerged in the muck, with only its shell still showing. Orion liked to think of it as the latter, but the former image always crept into his thoughts. It was hard to have pleasant thoughts here. He knew the spot well, as it was where he'd first met the friend he was seeking, although years and many meetings lay between that moment and this one.

The Wanderer let out a short, rhythmic whistle. It cut through the ambient noise, causing a momentary hush to fall over the land. The silence was jarring in its suddenness, but just as quickly, a heartbeat returned to the wilderness. The resonance of insect wings was punctuated by the croak of amphibious throats, undercut by the slow sucking sound made by the passage of unseen things moving in the muck.

Finding a dry place on the hillock, a rock he'd used a time or two before, to rest his rump, he sat and waited. He hated to call in favors, yet couldn't help celebrating a reason to see an old friend. It had been longer than he cared to admit since they'd met, such auspicious occasions now few and far between. He just wished his friend lived somewhere a little more pleasant.

An ear-piercing whistle woke Razhik'issala Khash'dhrissa from his slumber. He, of course, knew who was whistling, nobody else knew the pattern, nor the pitch, that would alert him so, but he still couldn't help but feel irritation towards the Man. Friend or not, the pitch was just unbearable! He may have sworn an Oath to answer when called, but he could think of at least a few different ways to get his attention. Didn't the Tower know he had a phenomenal sense of smell to match his hearing?

Of course it did. No, this was just the characteristic humor the thing displayed from time to time. Razhik couldn't help but think this humor struck more often when his friend was around. The Man, for all his positive traits, could be a bit…disrespectful. 'That's all well and good,' Razhik thought, 'when dealing with normal beings, but the Tower's anything but normal.' It had persisted through Ages from even the roughest estimates anyone could hazard. The least the Man could do was keep the disrespect in his head, like Razhik.

Humans could be utterly incomprehensible at times.

Razhik stretched, chasing the remnant artifacts of slumber from his limbs. From above, he would be nearly invisible as he slept, his variegated brown scales camouflaged him perfectly in the murky water. He wasn't foolish enough to sleep out in the open, not in these waters, but he took comfort in the thought that few of the things that lurked would notice him. His four taloned paws kneaded the earth, making sure to ease the sleep from each digit, in case he needed to teach his friend a lesson. Sometimes it was good to remind soft, fleshy things of their vulnerability.

Razhik did find it hard to understand why anything would opt for removable armor over the convenience of scales. His own served more than one purpose, and he couldn't deny a certain vain pride he felt for their aesthetic. He was particularly fond of the vibrant green underbelly he had cultivated over the years, carefully plucking out any scales that didn't match his desired image until they regrew in the proper shade. After a lifetime of effort, when he twisted about in the water, he was indistinguishable from the algae-laden surfaces, the brown and green of his body disappearing in the sea of life that dwelt beneath the water's surface.

Feeling his body come alive, he slithered from his hidden abode, a pocket of safety he'd made in the mire. Few creatures cared to tangle with one such as him, knowing his natural advantages were abundant. He represented an apex predator of this land, one who thrived more through agility and stealth than raw power, although he wasn't lacking in that department, either.

Humans had many names for creatures like him, and so many made no sense to Razhik. There were a few he liked, though. River dragon wasn't so bad. He wasn't really a dragon, but he also couldn't help that the name tickled his pride. Still, it didn't speak to who he was, what he was. One name fit his nature better than any other: King in the Mire, after the majestic spiked ring that adorned their heads, a crown atop their brow. He had laughed when Orion shared that one with him, feeling it was foolish that the human creatures seemed to think he couldn't leave the swamp. There was nothing in particular tying his kind to the Marshlands; they just preferred it there. They were adaptable enough to find a home anywhere, yet this had become their domain.

Entering the depths of the swamp, his kingdom, he made way to the meeting place. His friend always waited in the same place, a hill the Man had once saved a much younger Razhik at. It was time to pay his friend a visit and show him how much he had grown.

Orion sat on the rock, eyes closed. He sighed, letting out the breath slowly.

"Nice try, Razh, but your pounding heart gives you away every time. I know I look like a snack, but you'll never sneak up on me like that. Have you grown? Your breath feels more forceful."

The serpentine beast had silently crept as close as it could, its mouth spread, teeth inches from Orion's head. Slowly, it retreated.

"Man, you always ruin the fun. How do you know every time?" The beast flopped to the hillock floor, its tail thumping the ground in irritation. "I'll get you next time, Ori, just you wait."

"Lookin' forward to it." Orion's eyes snapped open, and a smile spread across his face. "Did I wake you?"

"Do you have to ask? Can't we come up with a different signal? This one sucks. I was having the best dreams. I can't remember what they were…they were good ones, though, I'm sure of it."

"I'm sure they were, old friend. I'm sorry I had to disturb you." The man put a hand on the serpent's nose and gave it a rub. "There's someone I'd like you to meet, a new hopeful."

Razhik gave Orion the flattest look the serpentine was capable of making with his inhuman features, an expression he had worked hard to perfect. "And how many does this make? Seven? Eight, now? How many times will you let yourself get your hopes up? Every time one of these hopefuls lets you down, you disappear for years, Ori. One of these days, you won't come back from that dark place."

"This time is different, Razh, I feel it in my bones."

"You felt it in your bones last time, too. His bones aren't feeling anything in the Jungle, now, though, are they?"

"Alright, that don't count. I feel it in my gut then. Mingus even sent this one my way!"

"Oh, well, if that crazy old bastard approves…"

"Shut it, you're coming with me. You're gonna like this one, she's got gumption."

"A woman?" Razhik rolled his eyes. "This is gonna be phenomenal. You should have told me to bring snacks. I'll be right back!"

As Razhik made to leave, Orion put a hand on his flank. "Razh, come on. Trust me on this. She's different! There's something strange about her. An air of magic I've never seen in the Tower. She took out three, well, two casters on her first day here. I only helped a little!"

Orion sighed, knowing his friend just didn't want to see him hurt again. Still, he couldn't give up now, not after all he'd given up just getting to that moment. "I just need you to come watch her, help me vet her. If you want to leave after that, I won't stop you."

A look of pity came over the beast, but he quickly tried to hide it. He couldn't have been quick enough to hide much from his friend, though. "Alright. I'll trust you on this. Where are we going?"

"The Plains."

Razhik blinked rapidly for a moment. "The….Plains? Didn't you just say she was special?"

"Adaptability is something you can test independently of difficulty. Now, come on. I'm sure this will be the entertainment of the decade. I'll tell you what I have in mind."

The two started back in the direction the Wanderer had come from. He rubbed his chin a moment in thought. "On second thought, maybe you should bring snacks."

Anilith sat on a bench in the plaza near the noticeboard. The man, she realized she'd neglected to ask his name during their charming first encounter, had never even bothered to say which noticeboard he wanted to meet her at, so she arbitrarily picked the one closest to the Forest, at the western exit.

As much grim satisfaction as it brought her, she could only continue mentally referring to anyone as a useless waste of space for so long. For all her sarcasm, she wasn't an inherently disrespectful person, and the usage of the term had begun to grate on her. Honestly, she found it astounding that so many people felt comfortable referring to her as "missy" and "kid." "Lady" had a nice ring to it, though. It wasn't a title native to her homeland, but maybe she should change that when she returned.

The day was as pleasant as any she'd seen; a cool breeze lacking any teeth blew from the southeast. It came down over the rooftops, blanketing the plaza with its balmy presence, and she was reminded of the ubiquitous nature of the wind. She watched people across the plaza move about, each pursuing their own ends, carrying about their own business. It was amazing to her that everyone here moved with such a determined purpose.

Back home, while she wouldn't say the people were lazy, they lacked a particular sense of urgency. They milled about, ambling like a leaf caught in the currents of the air, in no hurry to reach their destination and simply enjoying the journey. As long as their tasks were completed by day's end, the day was generally counted as a success.

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Here, there was a liveliness to the pace of life.

As she sat there, observing the people, whom she supposed she should think of as her new people, even if they were temporary allies in her grand plans, she couldn't help appreciating their way of living. Truly, there was a charm to her rural upbringing that was absent here, although perhaps she might find it among the farms surrounding Spokane. There was a rhythm she'd never known here, and it was beautiful.

She imagined the rhythm as she saw the clouds above. Each individual cloud moved in its own way, drifting through life at the whims of currents beyond its power, yet moving with a driven purpose, even if the purpose was not its own. Together, they formed an interconnected tapestry, a kaleidoscopic view for all to see, ever shifting and wonderful in its beauty.

A saying of her Master's came to mind, and she muttered under her breath, "Observe the sky long enough, as with all things, and one may glimpse the hidden patterns, the secrets this world hides in plain sight."

Here, every individual had a purpose of their own, but she still appreciated the comparison. They undoubtedly created a tapestry of life, and if she studied it long enough, from the right perspective, she was certain their patterns held secrets.

And so, Anilith sat there relaxing more fully than she had in…well, longer than she cared to admit. She wasn't a victim of the forced relaxation of recovery, as she most often found herself "relaxing." No, she was in a state of genuine repose that she found shockingly unfamiliar. While she could have taken the time to grow irritated at the man for making her wait, not knowing when he might show up, as the sun was high in the sky for so very long here, she chose to spend the time reflecting and pontificating on the world as she saw it.

It was the most comforting experience she could remember for a long time, short of hearing her siblings' breaths in the dead of night and knowing they were safe, even as her mind raced and planned the next day's training regimen. She could have stayed like that, content and thriving, as she witnessed the town's heart beating.

She could have, were it not for a voice saying, uncomfortably close to her ear, "Waiting for someone?"

Anilith nearly jumped out of her skin. Who should that voice belong to but the not-so-useless waste of space.

Twice now, this man had put her awareness to shame. She prided herself on her stealth and bushcraft, even if they were secondary skills for her, but this man was on another level. She shuddered to think how much he must see if she felt pride in her own skills.

"Give a girl some warning, will ya?"

"Oh, come now, where's the fun in that?"

Anilith stood, shaking her head as she did so. "Whatever. Let's get on with it and go pick up some requests."

"Already got 'em, didn't you notice?" He punctuated his question with a knowing wink, clearly aware she hadn't. "Let's get moving, ya laggard wench. Day's a'wastin!"

Anilith felt her blood rise at the man's vexing attitude. She tried to swallow her frustration and demanded with a growl. "Give me a name, and I'll consider not walking away right now. Gods, you make me wait all morning and just waltz in here acting like I'm the inconvenience! Maybe I should reconsider this arrangement if you have the nerve…"

"Folks call me the Wanderer," he cut her off, "But my friends call me Orion. I'll let you decide where you fall. Now step to, kid, we ain't gettin' any younger!"

He marched off, full of confidence and swagger, looking, for all the world, like a man without a stealthy bone in his body, hood down and roughshod hair blowing in the breeze. Anilith put her face in her hands a moment before reluctantly following.

"Something tells me I'm going to regret this."

Anilith and Orion walked through the western gate to the city. Before them lay fields of gold the likes of which Anilith had never seen. She had moved through in such a hurry, her first trip through here, that she hadn't paused to appreciate the natural beauty. On her return trip, the Wind had revealed to her a different splendor but had blinded her to this, and likely others.

She found herself grateful for Orion's choice in time for tackling the requests. The sun sat high in the sky, beaming down at a gentle angle, illuminating the veritable ocean of aureate grain. It was beautiful, in a word.

Never had she felt her breath stoppered, like a cork holding in the contents of a bottle, as she did at that moment, and she found a new respect for something she'd only known as a word: breathtaking. Beautiful as the fields she'd seen through her window upon her arrival in the Tower were, their vibrant green hues fell immeasurably short of the gilded lands before her. Even if she'd experienced the golden waves from a distance, that paled next to walking through them in the brightness of day.

"Quite the sight, eh?" Her new, and only, companion hadn't missed the catch in the rhythm of her exhalation.

"I'd ask if you ever get used to it," the young lady replied, "but clearly you aren't as enamored with the sight."

"Aye," the Wanderer replied with an air of reluctant sadness, "when you see the world as I have, beauty and horror in such measure as would make folks doubtful of the tales, it takes a sight beyond to bring wonder to your eye."

He went on with a sigh, "I find myself winded in a more somber way." He spoke slowly as they walked. "I envy you, kid. To experience life for the first time is a gift few appreciate in the moment. The past is a wonderful reflection, but it pales next to the emotion of the present." He paused a moment, a distant look in his eyes. A weight settled over the man for a passing moment. "Let's hope the chains of the past never drag you down, kid." After his uncharacteristically somber speech, he produced a flask from…somewhere…taking a swig before moving on. As quickly as it appeared, the flask vanished with a flourish of Orion's cloak.

She followed in his wake; her exuberance balanced with his melancholy. The weight he carried with him was apparent from his gait, speaking to untold injuries, physical and otherwise. She saw it in the slump of his shoulders and the way his feet wanted nothing more than to drag. He never let them, betraying a bedraggled strength in the man.

"Now, based on your story, you jumped in the deep end before you learned to swim proper. Lucky nothing took a real chomp out of you. Like I told you before, most folks start simple before jumping into other territories. Best to know how things work first, eh? It's rare to see someone stupid enough not to get a decent lay of the land before striking out for the first time, and I'll tell you it's certainly rarer still that they come back. On their lonesome."

Anilith's temper flared, growing annoyance at everyone's mockery painting her response, "Can you really blame me for going where I could find a challenge?! The requests around here are just so mundane, if my glance at that noticeboard is any basis. Hang my laundry, fetch me some water from the well, make sure the animals are fed, and the pens are mucked. I didn't come here to be a farmhand or handmaid! If that was the life I wanted, I would have stayed home with the children!"

"Ahh, adventurers and your naïve hearts. That's something I definitely don't envy you for. Always looking for the greatest challenge, the next mountain. Let me tell you, there are mountains right over yonder," he pointed north to where the mountain peaks pierced the skies, "and you don't want any part of climbing them. You think what you saw in the Forest was bad? You have no idea what you signed up for coming here!" The heat dissipated from his words as suddenly as it had come. "No one ever does."

Silence fell between the two for a time before Orion spoke again. "Listen. One day, you'll appreciate those boring, mundane tasks and see them for what they are: a guarantee of food in your belly and a roof over your head. If that's not enough, you can at least buy supplies with your earnings."

Anilith bit her tongue, swallowing her retort and just following along. They walked in silence for a time, Anilith reflecting on her vexing partner's words. There was a depth to the man she hadn't expected, but she couldn't say if she liked him more for it.

"Why would anyone have a request out for these creatures? Surely, they aren't harming anyone?" Anilith looked at the subject of the next quest, as Orion kept calling them, and couldn't fully suppress the warm and fuzzy feelings that threatened to overcome her.

The first three quests had been simple enough, if boring. First, she had to plow a field for some farmers. While she wasn't practiced in the art, it was a simple enough undertaking, and she used the task as a simple form of strength training. It was only after she finished the requisite work that she realized she could have used beasts of burden to aid her in her efforts, but she was satisfied with the results. After her relaxing morning, a session of hard work was just what she needed.

Secondly, she had had to locate a flock of escaped flightless birds. This quest was surprisingly frustrating, as she found the first handful quickly and the remaining birds without too much trouble. The last one, however, was a complete nightmare for her to find, and she had overturned nearly the entire area before she thought to climb the rancher's house and look into the chimney. There, nested on the grating that kept animals from entering the house through the chimney's aperture, sat the final bird. She was glad to be through with that quest and wasn't particularly looking forward to whatever reward she had earned for her efforts. No matter what it was, she doubted she would consider it worth the time.

That wasn't the goal of these tasks, though, as she was so often reminded by Orion's snarky remarks as she went through her labors. He was remarkably quiet as she plowed the field, but he more than made up for it as her struggle to find the final bird grew increasingly more desperate.

Thankfully, her third quest, chopping firewood, wasn't so bad, either. She was more than accustomed to this task, as it was something she frequently started her day with in her life before the Tower. Firewood, despite the temperate climate of her homeland, was used for so many things. Boiling water for cooking or sanitization, cooking over an open flame, providing warmth, keeping the house even a little less humid, and smoking meats. The list went on and on, fire being one of civilization's most important tools. It was also good to take out some frustration after her second quest. Could anyone blame her if she imagined some of the logs to have Orion's face? That snarky git.

This all brought her to her fourth quest, the one that tried her more surely than any of the preceding tasks. At first, she was excited about the task. All she had to do was eliminate the threat to the farmer's crops, simple enough. Now, as she gazed out at a field full of rabbits, she just wasn't so sure her heart was in this task. They all hopped about, nibbling on this plant or that. It was just so…cute.

"Sometimes, the hardest task is the one you didn't see coming. There's a reason I didn't let you pick all of your own tasks, kid. Wouldn't be much of a test if I had. Go on, eliminate the threat." Even as the Wanderer said the words, she saw no joy in his eyes, just a reluctant acceptance at the task he set before her…or was there something more?

She considered the nature of the request and decided it was ambiguous enough to try another approach. Mingus had left an abundance of bags in the ring he'd given her, and she took the time to pull a few out. She had yet to do a full inventory on the contents of the ring, and she found the task intimidating after witnessing the state of the man's shop, but when she mentally called for bags, they appeared. She picked out a handful and returned the rest to storage.

She crept through the field, sticking to where the vegetation was highest, doing her best to sneak up on the critters and pop them into a sack. When one was full, she took it to Orion, who gave no impression as to his take on her approach to the quest. His face was impassive as a statue as he watched her wrangle the little things.

Finally, Anilith was down to her last sack and had collected just about all the creatures she could see. Her efforts had to put a serious dent in their numbers. She glanced towards Orion, seeing a grin briefly shatter the marble of his expression before he mastered himself. He must have been as ready to finish this task as she was.

As she crept among the weeds, approaching the last rabbit in a state of utmost focus, she felt a disturbance in the grass nearby through the unnatural awareness she had touched upon a few times by then. She froze, not liking the imposing size of the lurking beast that the amount of movement suggested.

She slipped her blades from her hip sheaths, the rabbit's ears perking up at the slither of leather. Faintly, she heard a more disturbing hiss slide through the vegetation with an awful sibilance, and she wasn't the only one to hear it. She felt the rabbit's fear, something none of the others had experienced to such a degree while she collected them. She felt the moment its heart gave out, the fear it felt simply too great for its tiny body.

Still, the movement crept closer.

She couldn't tell if the beast knew she had detected its presence or not, but regardless, her options were closing by the second as the beast approached. Suspecting she'd never outrun a creature of that size, she stood tall and faced the direction it lay in wait. "Beast, think twice before you pick this fight. I won't run, and if all my death achieves is to cripple you, that is a death I choose willingly." A blade in each hand, she waited for the first sign of movement.

Fast, far faster than she thought possible, a snake-like creature launched itself at her. All she saw was a blur of brown before she stared up at the green underbelly of the beast, as claws that she hadn't anticipated the thing possessed dug into her sides, its jaws far too near her face for comfort. Venom dripped from its maw, sizzling on the earth around her, plants withering where it hit.

In a moment, her bravado fled, and she felt small, smaller than she had felt in her years. An echo of the rabbit's emotions beat in her chest, and she knew what it was to feel fear.

The horrifying beast of nightmares…licked her face.

A cackling, profoundly genuine laugh belted from the Wanderer and reverberated through the area.

"Shame about that little hare, eh?" The serpentine beast astride her spoke. "Oh well, guess I didn't need to bring quite so many snacks. Alas, waste not, want not." The creature stretched out a portion of its considerable length, snatching up the morsel. "Blechhh, soured from fear."

As she lay there, pinned, Anilith stewed more thoroughly than any brace of conies, the way only someone finding themselves on the wrong end of a joke can.