The Bladeweaver [Book 1 Complete]

The silence stretched for some time before Rika said, "Look, we wouldn't even be here without Namara."

Everyone turned toward her.

"I wouldn't be here without Namara," she added. "Sure, she's shady as all hells—"

"Hey," Namara cut in, mildly offended.

"She can't seem to give a straight answer to save her life," Rika continued. "Thinks everything is about her. Needs to be the center of attention at all times—"

"Okay, now that's unfair," Namara said. "I'm very capable of being quiet. Mysteriously quiet. People say I'm mysterious."

Rika gave her a look. "But she's helped us. Every step of the way. Protected all of us. Got us back together. Found Sadek's friend."

Namara raised a finger. "I genuinely didn't know about Yajub, so I can't take credit for that." She paused for a moment, thinking. "That being said… it was my genius plan that led us here, so actually, yes, I do deserve all the credit. You're welcome, gang!"

Rika sighed. "What I'm saying is… I think she's on our side."

Liliana turned to Namara.

Namara beamed a radiant smile back, tilted her head, and placed both hands under her chin in a mock-cute pose. "Besties forever!"

Liliana exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "Let's hope you're right, Rika."

"Yay!" Namara said, throwing a fist in the air like she'd just won something.

Next to her, Yajub silently mirrored the gesture, placing his massive hands under his chin and tilting his head, eyes narrowed in confusion. He held the pose a moment, then slowly raised one fist, glancing around to see if that, too, was required.

Kale stared at Yajub, brows lifting slighty.

"Don't mind him," Sadek sighed.

Namara clapped her hands. "Now that those unpleasant little tensions are out of the way, and we're all best friends again, I propose something important. I should be captain of this ship."

"I think Rika should be captain," Kale said. "She already has the eyepatch."

"That won't do," Namara said. "We're not pirates. Normal upstanding captains don't have eyepatches."

"We did steal this ship, though," Rika said. "Kind of makes sense for the girl with the eyepatch to be the pirate captain."

Namara turned to look at her. She opened her mouth, hesitated… then gave a tiny nod, like she maybe, sort of, saw the point.

Sadek folded his arms. "Have either of you ever captained a ship before?"

"No…" Rika said.

"Yes!" Namara said at the same time.

Sadek stared at her.

She wilted like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "No."

Then almost immediately straightened again, all cheer. "But how hard could it be?"

Sadek gave her a long look. "Alright then. What direction is Loyrth?"

Namara closed one eye, held a finger up to the horizon, slowly turned in a circle… then pointed. "That way!"

Sadek shook his head. "That's where we came from."

Namara smiled brightly. "Exactly! I was just testing if you knew that."

"No," Sadek said, deadpan.

He turned. "You know what? Rika, come take the helm. Just steer the ship toward that star in the sky."

Rika looked around, frowning. "What helm? I don't see any helm."

"That big wheel with the things sticking out," Sadek said, pointing. "Turn it until the brightest star is dead ahead. That'll get us to Loyrth."

"How do you know all this?" Kale asked.

Sadek looked at him like that was the strange part. "How come none of you know this?"

Kale raised a hand. "I've lived on a farm my whole life. I'd never even seen the ocean before this week."

Rika shrugged.

Namara nodded seriously. "I totally knew all of this."

Sadek just sighed.

"Yajub," said Yajub.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Everyone turned to look at him, expecting more to come. Nothing did. Sadek sighed again.

***

The rest of the voyage passed without incident. The sea had been kind. No storms. No monsters. No mysterious ships trailing them through the fog. Just water, stars, and the steady creak of their questionably acquired vessel.

By the time the twin towers of Loyrth came into view, even Namara had stopped trying to rename the ship after herself.

It was dark still, the moon casting a faint silver sheen across the water. The shape of the city rose ahead—two tall stone towers, a long, curving dock. The city itself was hard to see, more silhouette than shape.

Sadek pointed toward the shore. "There should be a lighthouse."

Kale squinted. "You sure?"

"Every harbor town has one," Sadek said. "Especially a city like Loyrth. They don't go dark unless something's gone very wrong."

No light. No flicker of fire, no sweeping beam across the sea. Just stone and shadow.

The wind carried nothing back—no dockworkers shouting, no ships creaking, not even gulls.

Kale crossed his arms. "So they probably weren't lying about the plague. Place looks abandoned even from here."

"Maybe they're all just sleeping," Rika said. "It is night, after all."

Namara sniffed the air, then shook her head. "No. It doesn't smell right."

"I don't need to smell anything," Sadek said. "Just look at it. Something's wrong."

Liliana's voice was quiet. "So it's exactly like we were expecting."

Sadek took another long look at the shoreline. "Let's not dock. We don't know what's waiting for us down there. Could be nothing. Could be a welcome party with torches."

"Friendly torches or angry ones?" Rika asked.

He ignored that. "We'll anchor here. Take the harriers into the city by air. If things go bad, we might need the boat to get out."

Kale nodded. "Smart."

Namara sighed. "Ugh, flying at night. My hair's going to be a disaster."

Yajub glanced over. "Yajub likes your hair."

Namara turned to him, pleased. "There's a lot of wisdom in you, Yajub. And excellent taste."

Yajub said nothing, but nodded solemnly.

***

The harriers flew low over the waves, as they glided toward the docks. The air grew heavier the closer they came, still and stale.

They touched down in silence. The harbor was devoid of life.

The dock planks were warped and soft underfoot, sagging like old flesh. No sign of a fight. No scorch marks, no arrows, no shattered crates. Just… decay. The wood was slimy, splintering at the edges, blooming with black mold. Ropes lay limp and frayed.

The tide still lapped, but the city made no sound. No voices. No activity. Not even gulls.

And then they saw the first body.

It lay crumpled near a post, skin cracked and leaking dark fluid. Another slumped against the side of a building. Then another. And another. All of them bloated, pale, tinged with black veins and shriveled sores. Rotting.

Kale stepped closer, and inspected a body. "This isn't a plague."

"No," Liliana said quietly. "It's him."

There was no need to say his name.

Xeroth.

They all knew.

Namara crouched by one of the bodies, not touching it. Her voice was softer than usual. "Their souls are already gone. Nothing left to take… uhh… save."

They moved further in, boots creaking softly on the warped planks.

Kale nodded towards the town. "We should head in. Maybe someone's still alive."

Rika shook her head. "Do you really think anyone's left?" She gestured at the lifeless harbor. "Look at this place."

"I have to be sure," Kale said.

Liliana stepped around another corpse, frowning thoughtfully. "No… he's right. We should see how far the rot reaches. Maybe we'll find something useful—clues about how this all works."

"Something we can use against him," Kale said.

"Exactly," Liliana nodded.

They moved through the quiet streets of Loyrth, the warped boards of the dock giving way to uneven stone roads slick with mildew. The town was still—no lights in the windows, no movement behind curtains, no flicker of lanterns down alleys. Just the soft tap of their boots and the occasional creak of tired wood.

The smell was stronger here. Not just rot—though that hung heavy in the air, thick and wet like spoiled meat—but something sharper underneath. Sour. Wrong. A stink that clung to the back of the throat and whispered of foul magic.

Around the corner, they found a cart abandoned in the street, its wheels half-sunken into the moss-eaten ground. A rotting horse lay collapsed in its traces, tongue lolling, ribs sunken and grey. The driver had fallen beside it, face-down in the muck. His body was bloated, blackened veins crawling across his arms.

The cart itself was piled with corpses.

Liliana approached slowly, hand over her nose and mouth—not that it would help much. Her voice was calm, but tight. "Looks like they were trying to dispose of the dead. Didn't make it far."

Kale scanned the street. Aside from the ones in the cart, there weren't many others. "Where are the rest? There should be more."

Here and there, a door was marked with a crude black 'X,' painted in tar or soot. The symbol stood out sharply against the pale, flaking wood. Dozens of them.

"I think those houses had sick inside," Liliana said, gaze flicking from door to door.

Kale looked around, uneasy. "It's awfully quiet."

"Everyone probably stayed indoors to avoid the sickness," Liliana said. "Locked their doors. Waited it out."

Rika stepped off the street and approached one of the houses. A faded black X was painted across the wooden door. She peered through the grimy window.

"Much good it did them," she muttered, turning back toward the others—

Then something slammed into the glass.

She whipped around just in time to see a face crash against the window from the inside. Pale. Sunken. Leaking black ichor from the eyes and mouth. Its hands scraped against the glass, nails leaving streaks, mouth gaping like it was trying to scream, but no sound came. Just more of that foul, bubbling liquid.

Rika jumped back and pulled Guts from her back. "Shit!"

Everyone froze. The corpse just stood there, staring at them. Its sunken face pressed to the glass, black liquid still leaking from its mouth. Fingers dragged slowly down the pane, leaving thick, streaky trails.

Kale glanced at Liliana.

She exhaled quietly. A shard of blood formed at her fingertip, sharp as a needle. She sent it through the window with a soft hiss—clean through the creature's skull. The body dropped out of sight.

Liliana lowered her hand. "It's the least we can do. A little mercy. Maybe now… whoever that was can rest."

Kale said nothing.

His eyes lingered on the broken window, the streaks of black still glistening on the glass. He didn't see this town anymore. He saw Khor'vel.

He remembered the silence there too. The heavy air. The corruption. How the corrupted bladeweavers turned on him, fighting something inside them that had already won.

He hadn't known them. Not personally. But they'd been like him. Carriers of the same gift. Same burdens. And he'd been the one to cut them down. Not because he wanted to. Because he'd had to.

And now here it was again. The same rot. The same quiet. The same sinking certainty that this wasn't just a tragedy. It was a message. A signature. Xeroth's magic at work.

Ikareia had said decay was part of the natural cycle. That Xeroth was just another form of balance.

But this? This didn't feel like balance. Or even death. It felt like theft. Theft of the hopes and dreams of innocent lives.

This wasn't natural. Nature didn't hollow people out and leave them clawing at windows. Nature didn't fill lungs with black liquid. Nature didn't twist souls into things that begged for death with their eyes.

No. This was a violation. A sickness.

And if this was order, then maybe order needed breaking.