A Legacy of Blades - An Epic Tower Fantasy

By then, the purple path didn't seem so long, the way traversing a well-trod route becomes habit. Indeed, it had become almost a respite from the unceasing danger of the hidden dungeon, as had most of this floor of the keep. The floor below, even, suffered regular patrols, traps, and things to disquiet the mind. Despite the group no longer feeling challenged by that level of threat, it didn't allow them to fully relax.

Now, to say they were fully relaxed would be untrue, for none of them were fools, even if one played the part, but this hall afforded them the luxury of relaxing their guard. After so long spent in hostile territory, this felt akin to relaxing, and each found the time to process their growth, excepting the Shadow Guard, who were at once close-mouthed and painfully aware of their growth, as it had upended their existence as a whole.

Anilith spent her time recovering, for she still felt strained from over-expending that unknowable resource that Blade-Weaving drew upon. The walls blocked her senses, still, but practicing with them proved a balm on her inner turmoil. She had not found a way, in those days, to return to that strange place within her, yet sensed it was not as orderly as it had been during her last visit.

Using her innate gifts, letting their energies course through and renew her, repairing hurts that could not be seen, only felt, she found a measure of peace, despite her environment's limitations. Always one to push her limits, she seldom gave herself a chance to rest and let growth settle into the cracks, although she knew the importance. This floor, by design or by chance, forced her to focus on balance.

Orion lost himself within, following the knotted trails that dwelt there. There were simply too many to make any definitive progress, but, as with all things that truly matter, a measure of diligence can keep an unending task from growing until it becomes easily managed. Orion was no stranger to the peril of letting his affairs get messy. He realized he had, unwittingly, let this neglect seep in until it affected his deepest sanctuary. Years spent drowning himself in a haze had done little to push him to grow.

It was no wonder he had become so knotted inside. As he observed his connections, his ties to this life, he worked by feel, bundling all those that felt alike and braiding them into something stronger, something that would not knot. One such braid he attended most diligently, and this he called family. At its core were connections cut short, ones that faded into oblivion, but they were supported, bolstered by stronger bonds through his efforts. With his most precious threads, he wove in the ties of Razhik, Anilith, and those others he valued the most, including his furry pal at the Drowned Marmot. Through all of it, he felt the gentle guidance of his fated mark.

It was an unending task, but he took pleasure in the realization that it gave him renewed purpose. He was more than the life he'd lost, his purpose greater than that of remembrance. That would always be a part of him, for he refused to forget, but as he worked, he began to see how much more connected him to the world than the illusion he'd let blind him for so long, than the lies he'd found in his drink. As he worked, he discovered himself, not just the man he had been, but the man he could be, and the man he was that connected them both. As he worked, some measure of his irritation at being forced down this pathway once more faded.

He'd never tell the others that, though.

Razhik, frustrated by his performance on his own, having needed to call on the Shadow Guard, thought hard as they walked. Next to necessary, hard work, he despised little more than necessary, hard thought.

Simply put, it was a pain.

He knew he could have done better, that he'd barely tapped the depths of his gifts, as Anilith called them. As they walked, though, he felt less disappointment, realizing it was only natural that a King and his subjects work together, and to deny that truth would be to deny himself. That didn't mean, unfortunately, that he didn't need to work harder, just that he hadn't failed as thoroughly as he thought. Plus, he had a few strokes of inspiration while he thought. At least one held promise, and he couldn't wait to test it. He only wished he'd thought to practice them sooner.

The fish always thinks there's time before it becomes lunch.

So the party of disparate souls, brought together through space and time, walked on, each appreciating the silence in their own way.

Orion hardly recognized the crossroads when they left the passageway. Much as the purple antechamber had changed, so the room before them was affected. It had truly become a rainbow crossroads, hewn of lustrous, hued stone. Elderscript crept from the path behind them, snaking its delicate fingers along the walls and invading the wider keep.

Alongside the previous paths, two more had appeared, one green and one orange. The expected carpet ran down each, now disguised by the colored stonework. Having had his fill of silence and contemplation, Orion was quick to speak up.

"I've got a good feelin' about green," he said, glancing at his right hand where the mark lay hidden. "Anyone feel different?"

The others shook their heads, so he continued. "Good. And I don't think we need to hold ourselves back, either. The way I see it, faster we get this done, faster we put this all behind us. No need to be careless, though. Maybe keep that ability under wraps for now," he finished with a knowing look.

"Don't have to worry about that," she said. "I won't be risking that unless there's no choice left; Don't feel that would end well for me."

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Razhik, unusually quiet, started off down their chosen path, and they followed suit. The floor climbed steadily upwards at a noticeable incline, different from all the other, flat paths, and the walls were lined with Elderscript.

"That's new," Anilith noted, looking up, "Not sure what to make of it."

"Only one way to find out," Orion replied as they climbed into the unknown.

"Suppose that explains the climb," Orion said as they came to the end of the passage.

Before them, battlements stretched, clear of enemies. A building stood at the far end, a simple door facing them. At the walls. A green barrier blocked anything beyond the tops of the battlements from view, arching and creating a verdant tunnel. Everything below took on a shade of green, rich as the Forest.

"Shall we?" Anilith asked as the group trekked on without complaint.

At the building's threshold, they stopped a moment before Anilith strode forth, the others in tow. Inside, there was neither ornamentation nor obstruction, only a scattering of torches and five goblins standing in wait. The moment they entered, the enemy started moving.

It was already too late.

Anilith called on Fire, bursting forth. Razhik stepped to the shadows. Orion, well, he stood still, connecting to his friends and linking their powers even as they felt his frustration at losing his bow. A flash of light and a deep, rumbling roll were the only clues they gleaned as to the capabilities of these new foes before five bodies hit the floor, and the stillness claimed the room.

"Well," Razhik said cheerfully, breaking his silence and stepping toward the door, "looks like we can move on, eh?"

"Hold on a second, Razh," Orion replied, holding up a hand. "I'm all for moving quick, but let's look around a second. Might be some clue as to what we're up against." He didn't release the tethers that bound them as he moved to inspect the fallen goblins.

Their weapons, a healthy mix of bludgeoning and piercing tools, went into his storage necklace, along with their armor. Both were fashioned better than most and emblazoned with a storm cloud. No other mark distinguished these from any other goblin, but that they were armed with finer gear.

"Dark clouds, huh," he puzzled. "Don't know if that's ominous, or somethin' else. Let's move carefully; we still don't know what we're facin' here, but I'd wager it's somethin' we ain't seen yet. Seems to be the theme recently."

Beyond the door, a long stretch of wall awaited them, but this one was far from unoccupied. A veritable army of goblins milled about, appearing bored; Orion counted no fewer than sixty, but estimated the true number to be nearer to eighty. They appeared less well outfitted than the short-lived squad they'd just dismantled, but numbers were more dangerous than finery.

"Got our work cut out for us, here, "Orion said as the goblins turned to face them as one. "I'll guard the retreat, just in case. You two do your thing., but lean on each other. Ani, let's use your Wind-eyes for this one; Earth's been a bit wonky since we got here, on your own word, and I ain't sure I'd know what to make of fire. May be a chance to test that yet."

"Don't need to tell me twice," Anilith replied, summoning Razhik's mantle atop her leathers. Razhik himself had already vanished.

From a distance, Orion watched as the enemy formed a semblance of ranks. They seemed more organized than the average goblin he'd seen, and they took too well to orders. Unnatural, that. Maybe these gobs ain't died so much.

All of them were armored, but some had bits of cloth, reminiscent of robes, that trailed from their waists, and hoods that obscured their heads. Others wore lighter suits and bore agile weapons. Yet others bore thick iron plates and heavy weaponry. There was a balance to the army, but his friends were no average foes.

As he watched, he told them all he saw, drawing upon Anilith's sight to keep track of that which his eye couldn't track, while Razhik leapt from unseen places, a shadowed reaper in a field of flesh. Anilith moved steadily forward, never rushing, but dancing in step with the wind.

Energy gathered above the hooded figures, coalescing into dark clouds within the barrier. Rain began to fall thick and heavy, making the ground slick as the clouds grew dense, and the wind grew frenzied. Orion worried a moment how that would affect Anilith, but quickly realized she'd already felt and adjusted to the shift, moving this was and that in a mad dance, her dark form a petal in the storm.

All eyes were on her, even as goblins fell in the gathering dark. She reached the frontlines as the first peal of thunder broke and lightning flashed high in the clouds, white light disturbing the sea of green. Soldiers of Storm, it appears.

Where the hooded figures called, lightning answered, imbuing the arms of the light infantry as often as it targeted his allies. Where the Armored goblins struck, thunder echoed forth. The lightly armored footmen rode the soundwaves, propelling their attacks at great speed.

None of it touched his friends.

Razhik leapt between the shadows, sowing discord where he passed before slipping away to his realm. The enemy, entirely focused on the threat before them, rarely noticed his attacks before they fell. He was patient, and the count of his victims grew without steady rhythm. Every strike brought the end closer, and he didn't work alone.

For her part, Anilith was simply faster, embodying a Wind beyond even that summoned by the tempest, and the freedom of the battlefield suited her well. She moved as a spirit of the Wind, as a being unbound, unpredictable, and fierce, reflecting an attack here, deflecting one there. The enemy weathered her assault, but it was relentless, and she whittled their forces like wind-scoured stone. Through it all, Orion's warnings guided them to safe harbor.

The tactics reminded him of the thunderclap traps they'd faced on the way up the mountain, and the fight where Anilith was deafened, down to the imbued weapons. Guess it ain't so new, after all. Feels like an Age ago, but good thing we got used to the noise on the way up.

Anilith fared far better in this battle, no doubt a result of overcoming abundant danger. These creatures were undoubtedly more skilled and dangerous, but between his friends' skill and his oversight, the battle ended uneventfully, for all the slaughter they wrought. The enemy was dangerous, sure, but none alone presented the danger of those champions the group had overcome, and their tactics never adapted. The rainfall washed the battlements clean of the slaughter before it came to a slow end, the mages' power outlasting their lives.

A sense of unease settled over Orion. The fight felt but a taste of what could have been, and he began to wonder what the real purpose of these next paths might be.

Still, the green barrier lingered above, and another doorway awaited.