A Legacy of Blades - An Epic Tower Fantasy

Anilith floated in a void, considering how familiar this feeling was becoming, and not entirely certain she liked the trend. This void wasn't entirely familiar; in fact, it was a far different quality than she'd experienced underwater. There was no distinct pressure weighing down on her, and her eyes saw no more than any other sense she tried to flex. If anything, they saw less, the infinite darkness swallowing her attempts to pierce the veil.

As the organs were proving rather useless, she decided to forego their use, and closed her eyes, choosing to reflect on the transformative battle she'd undergone. To say it was a struggle wouldn't be accurate. Despite the caliber of her foes, it had been a remarkably easy fight for her, compared to her most recent encounters. The Wolverines, while dangerous, were simply not fast enough to catch her out, nor were they numerous enough to outlast her, although that was a near thing, evidently.

She couldn't help but feel it was good she had made it back to Orion and not passed out in the cavern for anyone to find. Kewrok, well, she didn't want to imagine what he'd do, given the chance.

She found it astounding how exhausting Blade Weaving had proven. It was a small change, refusing the trance, going so far as to fight it, and she wasn't sure it made much difference in the result, but there was something important about maintaining control. After the last slaughter, she wanted to remember what she'd done, not absolve her actions through ignorance.

Even if they were beasts, she wanted to remember the lives that she ended, some of them more than once already. It was the least she could do to honor something that fought tooth and nail, even to the end.

It wasn't exactly her fault that the Wolverines weren't a match for her speed.

Truthfully, if she hadn't experienced the Wind's jubilation on the summit, she would never have embraced such freedom of movement, and it stood as a stark reminder of the importance of perspective. She was faster because she knew better, now, where the limits of the Wind lay. She moved more freely because she understood better what freedom was, what it felt like.

A rabbit, undisturbed by predators, roaming a field at its will, thinks itself free. The sparrowhawk that rides the lower currents of the skies thinks itself free. That which rides the currents of the atmosphere, thriving where the air is thin and unrestricted, she couldn't imagine freedom more complete than that.

She shivered at the thought that, one day, she might look back and think herself foolish for ever believing she understood the true scope of freedom; but where could the Wind truly fly with less restriction…what stood higher than mountains? Could there even be something so grandiose, or were the mountains only grandiose from her perspective?

Truly, she had no answer to the thought, and contented herself with the knowledge that she might one day find an answer, if she only kept expanding her views as she had in the Tower.

Her contemplations on freedom brought her back to her current predicament, a prison all its own. Despite her inability to escape, her situation brought with it certain freedoms of its own, namely an absence of soul-deep exhaustion. She had never experienced anything like it and could think of no better description in that moment, but it rang with the voice of truth.

That wasn't the only freedom she found here, though. Gone were the ever-present aches and pains that she had grown so used to in her life as a warrior. Gone were the expectations, the weight of the responsibility on her shoulders. Gone was the guilt at having left her life behind in her pursuit of power. Gone was everything outside of her.

Here, she was free to be her truest self, to explore her truest self, and she found she didn't know who that was. It was a disturbing realization.

Opening her eyes in that strange, empty space, she considered the quality of the darkness. That wasn't a thought she'd have had before knowing Razhik. In her life before the Tower, darkness was darkness, and any amount was cause for a fire.

The Moorish people had learned not to underestimate the things that lurked in the shadows of the swamplands.

This umbral land felt different, though. There was a sheen to the distance, as if there were an edge, and not mere nothing. Looking down, she found that she wasn't floating as she'd thought, but rather suspended above a surface that the darkness seemed to rebound from. Willing herself down, she found the surface was hard, and she could walk without issue.

Spurred on by the realization that nothing was keeping her here, more than anywhere else in this empty place forsaken by light, she set out to investigate the apparent edge. Each step resonated in that space, the faintest noise her worn leather boots made seeming so sharp, not the scuffing she had grown accustomed to, but a clipped gait, reminiscent of a shod beast of burden.

Looking down, she noticed a peculiar detail.

As her foot drew close to the floor, an image of it seemed to move up to meet it, moving sole to sole towards the distant edge. It matched her pace, but moved with a strange rhythm, always meeting her boot, yet seeming to move at a pace of its own, almost as if it knew when her foot would land. Anilith wondered, for the first time, if she was alone here.

Seeing no other course of action but to continue, she made for the distant wall, or whatever it might be, with resolute determination. She still didn't know where she was, or if any of this was real in the first place. All she knew for certain was that she'd overtaxed herself, worn herself ragged, and emptied whatever reserves Blade Weaving drew upon.

As she walked, she considered all of the moments she'd practiced the skill in the Tower, and couldn't help but feel she was missing something. She was tired when she'd used it, sure, but not much more than when she physically exerted herself in a major workout.

Why was she so much more exhausted, drained to the point, evidently, of having hallucinations, or dreams at the very least, if she were unconscious, than she was when she let the skill take charge? Why could she use Blade Weaving independently of her own Magic? Surely, it was a form of magic itself. It had to be.

What made it so special, what made her so special that she'd gained the gift in the first place? How was it passed down along the Blade Mother's inheritors?

Why had she never thought to ask any of these questions before?

Ahead of her, the darkness appeared to part, absorbed by the mysterious surface Anilith approached, giving it a silvered appearance. Again, she examined the quality of the darkness, and found that it wasn't true darkness. It was an absence of light, sure, but she wouldn't be able to see the wall before her if it were dark.

So, it must be something else.

She took a step towards the wall, and the ground beneath her boot rippled forward, striking the wall at its base, and large visible ripples erupted outwards. As she stepped forward, laying her hand upon the smooth surface before her, a hand reached out and braced itself against the other side of the surface, a silhouette of her own familiar form. She stared into her own eyes, which returned the look, but the smooth-featured face in which they were set wore a disconcerting grin all its own.

"Took you long enough to find me," the image said, "Welcome, Anilith, it's time we had a little chat."

"Watch over her," Razhik instructed his personnel, "Ori, here, says it's time to go have a chat."

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The Grokar legion saluted their liege as one, closing ranks around their charge.

All around the cavern, Razhik saw Grokar warriors move about, clearing the dead, erecting rough barricades from gods knew where, and forming a makeshift base of operations inside enemy territory. Every so often, one would stare too long at the traitorous Shadow Guard, but they had grown in their time under Razhik's wing, and their presence alone was enough to turn away most unwanted stares.

They'd be fine, he was sure, and worst-case scenario, he was only a quick jump away. The bastards wouldn't know what hit them.

Razhik was content to let Orion take the lead, especially as he was really there as more of a translator than anything. His friend had a plan, he was sure.

As they stormed, well, Orion stormed, anyway, towards the commanders, who had set up a safe distance from the "danger" of the front lines, Razhik couldn't help but snort at the creatures' cowardice. Kewrok croaked up.

"Ah, my friends! Glorious work, oh, Serpentine one and your companions! You have brought great glory to the depths of our homelands with your bravery and have earned a place in our history, whether this attack succeeds or ends in disaster. Already, I have sent a messenger bearing the songs of your terrible triumphs!" His trademark, twisted grin appeared, "How I wish I might have seen the effects of your wrath firsthand, but, alas, someone must mind the rabble."

"Whatever you're croakin' about," Orion said, not waiting for a translation, "I've got some things to say first."

Kewrok paused, mid adulation, his sails going slack as the wind abandoned them, with a look of cautious shock on his bug-eyed face. "Ah, but of course, whatever questions this friend of the great Serpent has, we would be overjoyed to hear them!" He gulped, which would have been less noticeable from a less girthy flesh-bag.

"He said 'fire away, '" Razhik paraphrased.

Orion cleared his throat, drawing a dagger to clean imagined gunk from beneath his nails. "Seems to me," he began, drawing out his words, "that this ain't the first time you've offered less than appropriate support in battle. Seems to me as, were it not for Razh's friends, we wouldn't have had any Grokar support, this last time, and they're really the survivors of your first force, ain't they? Now, I might be a simple man, but that don't strike me so well. Fool me once, well, that's on me, alright. Fool me twice, best believe I'm watchin'.

"Fool me three times," he paused, carelessly dropping the knife with a clatter, a single drop of blood falling from a pricked finger to splash upon the stone, "Well, I don't know as anyone's lived to tell that tale, have they, Razh? Can you tell him all that for me, Razh?"

Razhik rolled his eyes. "You know he can understand you," he said, before continuing, "My friend here says—"

"Yes, yes, mighty Serpent," Kewrok said, gulping far more audibly, the ghost of anger in his eyes in the face of something dangerous enough to clear out the cavern in which they spoke, "I heard. Rest assured, we meant no slight. The time will come when you will be glad for our reticence, when our numbers are the only thing that will secure our victory. You are mighty, there is no doubt, but could you face a horde while contending with the power that holds dominion here? Perhaps, but I am not so sure. We, at great losses, no doubt, will hold the line when the time comes, and our defense will be greater for your triumphs."

"He says," Razhik began as he turned back to Orion, "that he's sorry, but it's all part of the plan. I'll give you the details later."

"Still, best see as it don't happen again. You hear?" Orion held his tongue as he gathered his thoughts, ignoring Kewrok's neckless nod. "What's our next move here? Can't help but notice you've got parties scoutin' out the tunnels. Tell him it's his turn, alright, Razh?"

Razhik said nothing, merely turned one large saucepan eye towards the chieftain.

"My scouts have found scattered remnants of the beasts that called this place home," Kewrok began, "and my elites have moved in to eliminate the threats, with minimal casualties. Regrettably, it seems the beasts have a natural resistance to poisons and venoms, and we had to adjust our tactics.

"We're still forming a working understanding of the intricate runnels, seemingly carved by the beasts themselves, but all roads we've explored so far have ended at sizable fortification. We've garrisoned each pathway as we've cleared it, and the enemy has made no moves to push us out. When we have made sure, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the tunnels are clear, we'll move to set up a more sizeable garrison to pen them in."

"More killing, some mapping," Razhik summarized, "and they found the next obstacle. He'll let us know when we're ready to move out, won't he?"

Kewrok nodded frantically as Orion stroked his beard. "Good, good. Fill me in on the details while I make us something to eat." Before he turned to walk away, he picked up his dagger, letting more blood stain its hilt. "Just know, Chief, you get any ideas, any at all, and I've got an arrow with your name on it, and I don't miss. Don't matter if you send everything you got at me, you hear?"

The Wanderer spat on the ground before turning and marching away.

"Well," Razhik said cheerily, "You heard the guy! What else can I really add to top that?" Razhik subtly snaked a hand into his shadow, tapping the creature on its shoulder with a long, sharp talon. "But I'm watching you, too."

Razhik disappeared into his shadow, reappearing by his Guard after a moment. He imagined the creature looked a touch more mucous-ridden than before their visit.

Anilith stared into eyes she'd only seen in the still surface of tranquil water, and yet knew on an instinctual level. She could only see the hand and the smooth features of the face, the rest of the figure dissolving into silhouette, obscured by the depths of the strange surface.

"What in the names of the gods are you?"

The question escaped Anilith before she even fully processed it.

"Well, that's no way to greet an old friend," the figure replied, with mock injury, "I guess we haven't really known each other that long, though."

The figure's voice sounded unnatural, given a quality not unlike the ringing of forge-striken metal, or the clash of blades, if they could speak in words.

"Gotta say, you made it here faster than most, but most don't go into that place. You're the second, actually."

"That doesn't exactly answer my question," Anilith said.

"Well, I'm you, after a sense. Really lucked out with your natural talents, I did. You've got a nearly unheard-of resonance with her abilities, you know." The smooth smile widened, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I'm your legacy, or rather her legacy. But I'm your bit. Think of me as a guide. I'm here to show you the ropes, and share some of the burden, so to speak."

"You're a guide," Anilith said, unable to hide her disbelief entirely, "Alright, I'll bite. So you're here to teach me about my abilities, then?"

"Oh, gods now," the figure replied, "this place, maybe, but certainly not me. No, I'm here to teach you about her abilities. What you know as Blade Weaving. See, back when she came back to your people, she fractured her skill; that's how she made that nifty legacy. She kept a piece for herself, sure, but most of her power went into that thing. I'm a portion of that power, uniquely your portion, one of the last, actually.

"It takes a lot for disciples to earn this knowledge, have to earn the right to meet their fragment, but she went to great lengths to provide for her disciples. Her gift, it isn't without its dangers, after all. I know you've started to notice the…call it exhaustion. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't.

"One of my functions, if you want to think of them that way, is to bear the load while you're learning the ropes, keep you from breaking yourself with her toy. I can only do that, though, when you let me take over. Leads to some gaps in the memory, though, unfortunately."

The last statement hit Anilith with the force of a warhammer.

"You're what I've been fighting against? You're what keeps trying to take over, the reason I ended up here?"

The figure sighed. "I don't think you're listening very well. I'm not the reason, I'm the solution, the safeguard. If not for me, you'd have ended up far worse after using her gift as much as you have. You're ready to start learning the next steps, but you still need me. She knew the risks of her power better than anyone, and without me, without this place, you wouldn't be in limbo like this: you'd be dead."

Anilith thought back to the strain she'd felt while fighting the wolverines and realized she'd underestimated just how vital whatever she was draining was.

"You mean—"

"Sorry," the figure interrupted, "seems like our time here is up. Do try to figure out a way to talk without nearly killing yourself next time, okay?"

She felt a tugging, a sense of connection to another place, and the space around her seemed less real by the moment.

"It's time to wake up, kid."

It was most definitely not Orion's voice, but who else might reach her there?