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The Blood-Stained Blade Ch. 117-119
🕑 Added 2025-08-11 14:00:12 +0000 UTCCh. 117 - A Real Challenge
There were no other hunters or divine attacks in the days that followed that terrible night. The Ebon Blade and its wielder made good time and defaced two more small waystones, further altering the magical landscape, making it look like they were going to go south when they were, in fact, about to head north.
While they’d done those things, the blade had interrogated all four of the dead mages that it had collected recently. While it had dozens of mage souls still in reserve, it had a single, very specific question in mind for these four: how did you find me, and how many more will find me the same way?
It was a simple question, but none of them had known the entirety of the answer. Still, they had given it everything they had, and together, that was enough. The answer was indeed the Tindalian Hounds; they were exactly what Lucian said they were, trackers of the first order.
Evelyn’s ashes had been meticulously swept from the throne room and fed into half a dozen of the monstrosities before they’d run out. That allowed the hounds to track it, but because of the dust and other particles, some of the other hunting parties were likely to take very circuitous routes, which meant that the Aethearcy might be able to ambush it two or three more times.
The goal of the group hadn’t even been to capture it or kill it. They’d only been told to find it, stun it, and relay its location so that the big guns could be brought to bear. That meteoric strike spell had been meant to leave the Ebon Blade wielderless and alone in the dirt; it was a fine plan, and the fact that it wasn’t successful didn’t mean that next time, it wouldn’t be.
All of that was to the good. They’d won and learned of a new danger while at the same time finding out that the mages didn’t even suspect that it was up to something. According to the hunters, they thought it was simply attempting to flee and hide now that its revenge had been achieved. Still, despite all of these minor victories, Lucian’s recent performance struck the blade as entirely unacceptable.
The boy relied on it too much, and while a good wielder should rely on his weapon, it should be as a weapon and not as a crutch or a wetnurse. He needed to be tested further.
There is a small tower that belongs to the Athearchy in the next town we are going to visit. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact, and as the Ebon Blade said the words in the mind of its wielder, it felt him flinch, afraid of what was going to come next.
You will face them, the blade continued. You will face them, and you will do it without help from me. Lucian didn’t argue with that either, though it did feel uncertainty blossom in his soul.
“You think I don’t want to get better at fighting?” Lucian asked after several minutes of silence. “I do. I do want to learn to fight as well as you, but that’s just not where my talents lie.”
You may never be a gifted warrior, the blade agreed, but you must become an adequate one, or we will both perish.
“I know,” he answered glumly, rubbing the spot where the mage had burned right through him yesterday. “Those guys… I never would have had a chance against them alone, even if I was an adequate warrior.”
There, you are mistaken, the blade countered. You will never be alone again. I will be with you for the rest of your life. How long or short that is is up to you.
That much at least cheered up the boy, and he didn’t complain again. Instead, he began to prepare for his approach to the town. Neither of them knew the name, but that didn’t matter. Lucian was already covered in rags and could scarcely be expected to blend in. Instead, he started to gather firewood, and then, when he had enough large sticks, he wrapped them in a buddle that completely hid the blade from view that he carried on his back.
It was a strange disguise, but the weapon did not attempt to intervene. As long as he killed the mages, it would give him a free hand.
Lucian entered the town of Tervon’s Well near dusk, looking for all the world like a beggar looking to sell firewood. The town’s lone gate guard gave him the stink eye but let him pass without more than a couple terse words.
“You cause any trouble here, and you’ll feel my boot up your ass before morning, you hear?” the guard cursed.
Lucian responded with an apology and a bow, which was demeaning as it was effective. Then he made his way to the mage tower, which was the only four-story building in this little farming community.
When he reached the door, he knocked twice, first hesitantly, then more firmly. He was met by another apprentice who wasn’t so different from the boy he’d been a few weeks before. “We don’t need no firewood,” the apprentice said, already shutting the door, but Lucian stopped it with his sandals foot.
“What about information,” its wielder asked. “I come all this way because I’ve seen something amazing not so far away from here.”
“Information?” the boy asked, trying to decide if he was getting scammed. “That might be worth a hot meal or a few coppers, depending on what you tell me…”
“Not you,” Lucian insisted. “I want to talk to a mage. A real one. I know they live here.”
“I’m not a real mage, am I?” the boy huffed. “I should turn you into a toad for that!”
Lucian let himself be browbeaten and bullied for a minute until the commotion attracted the attention of one of the boy's masters. Though he played it straight, the blade could tell that he was enjoying pulling the wool over these smart people’s eyes almost as much as he was going to enjoy killing them in the near future.
“What’s all this then?” the older mage complained as he approached the two bickering boys. The apprentice gave him a brief rundown, and the man sighed. Very well, let him in and get a bowl of soup from the kitchen, and we’ll see if his information is worth coins or a thrashing.
The mage had just invited the Ebon Blade into their meager sanctuary without even noticing. The blade found that very amusing; in a way, it was similar to how Evelyn had snuck it into Altbarstein castle.
While the blade had softened its attitudes on subterfuge slightly, it would always prefer the direct approach. It spent the entire meal, as well as the conversation that followed, waiting for the boy to start killing, but he delayed. Instead, he wove the mage a tale about seeing an impossible lightning storm to the southwest and a group of red-cloaked mages with metal hounds running for their lives.
It was nowhere near the truth, but it contained enough details to be believable because more and more mages kept coming to the table and making the boy repeat his lies. Soon, there were half a dozen men arguing about who those men were and what they were looking for. He told them about the gray blades that glowed with white runes, and they paid him a handful of silver.
Then, when they finally summoned their master from the peak of the tower so he could tell the story one final time so the elder could decide what to do, the boy slaughtered all of them in a wide slash that used mage hand to send the blade whirling around the room like a cyclone. Half of them had their backs turned at the time and didn’t even know they were dead until the deed was done. No one had the time to cast a spell or brandish their wands, and only a few of them even cried out in pain before they expired.
“And that’s why you don’t let strangers into the tower!” he said with a smile as he admired his handiwork before rushing upstairs to see if anyone else was hiding.
Lucian spent several minutes searching all four floors but found nothing amiss, but then, that’s what he’d been expecting. As he went, he explained to the blade how most apprentices in towns and cities went home at night because space in the tower was at a premium, but the weapon didn’t care about such trivialities.
This is not what I meant when I said you should kill the mages, the blade side with faint disapproval.
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” the boy asked as he helped himself to another bowl of soup. “You told me to kill them, and I did. You didn’t say how I had to do it.”
Its wielder was right for all the wrong reasons, but the weapon did not chastise him for it. Instead, it launched into an appeal for discipline and practice, but it could tell right away that its words did not penetrate Lucian’s smug feeling of accomplishment at having bested so many powerful men in a single strange move.
“I think that counts as practice for the night anyway,” the boy said when he was done eating. “We can practice tomorrow. There’s not enough space in here.”
We cannot stay long here anyway. Practice will have to wait for another day, the Ebon Blade cautioned him. You have killed everyone who is here, but there’s no telling who will come back after a night of drinking or arrive in the morning. We do not wish to be taken by surprise as you took these men by surprise.
Lucian grudgingly agreed, though he did not leave the tower empty-handed. Before he left, he donned the familiar brown robes of an apprentice, took all of the ready coin he could find from the corpses, and even stole a wand since his previous wand had long since been destroyed.
After that was done, he saddled a fine horse and then rode by the same guard that cursed him earlier. This time, the man wished him well as he set off on the road once more. “A servant of the Athearchy gets much more respect than a beggar,” he mused. “Even if the appearance and the beggar are the same man.”
The blade said nothing. Instead, it studied the mind of its wielder and tried to decide what it was going to do with its wielder. The boy was clever; there was no doubting that. The problem was that he might be too clever, and while the blade had known that he intended to employ subterfuge, it had not expected him to do so to the extent that he could simply avoid fighting entirely.
Some fights cannot be skipped, it reminded him again as they set off into the night.
Ch. 118 - Further Afield
Even though the Ebon Blade was not happy with the way that its wielder had chosen to dispatch their enemies, it was pleased with how much faster they went with a horse. If others were hunting them, it would be easier to stay ahead of them this way. There were other benefits, too, though those mostly involved Lucian getting fed better and more frequently, now that he could claim to be a humble servant of the Aetharchy on an urgent errand for his master.
+284 Life Force.
It wasn’t even fear of reprisal that drove peasants to help him when he was dressed the part; it was hope of currying favor with the faraway mage lords. While priests could help with fevers and plagues, if a drought or some more serious condition afflicted the land, the entire community would be at the mercy of the Aethearchy, so they did their utmost, even for a lowly apprentice like Lucian.
Of course, he’d expected this behavior, which is why he’d thrown off his disguise as a beggar and a refugee in favor of something a bit more dignified. The fact that he was wearing a large sword got some looks, but no one dared ask him about it. Instead, whether it was an inn or a small farmstead, they offered him hot meals, warm beer, and sometimes other favors like directions or provisions for the trail, which he greedily accepted.
He was almost as greedy with the attentions of the women that flirted with him on several occasions, and as he moved from village to village, following the blade’s directions toward the next waystone, he bedded anyone who showed him that sort of interest.
The blade did not approve of that sort of behavior at all, but it was more puzzled than anything. Searching his mind after one of these pointless acts of fornication revealed the truth; it was largely believed that a talent for magic was passed through the blood, so any woman who lay with a mage was more likely to have a child who might grow up to be one.
+119 Life Force.
Such things were rare, but they did happen. Lucian didn’t seem to know the truth of the rumor either. According to his memories, no one did, but he certainly enjoyed this form of hospitality almost as much as the meals he was served.
Unfortunately, all of this made him comfortable, and that comfort led to a waning desire on his part to kill bandits now that he wasn’t starving, which was only partially balanced out by a renewed interest in practicing, which was only half-hearted at best.
“Why should I need to jump around when I can just fling you across the battlefield with magic?” he’d demanded on one occasion when the blade pointed out that he was going through the motions. “It works great!”
Suppose that while you’re doing that, you take an arrow to the eye or a club to the neck, the blade countered. What then?
“But we’ve shown your power works as long as I maintain the spell,” the boy insisted. "So I'm in no danger as long as I do that."
A painful enough blow would make you regret that mindset, the blade answered.
The boy insisted it wouldn’t, so that night, in lieu of training his footwork, which was sorely needed the blade chose to test his concentration by having him pick up burning coals with his left hand while he tried to maintain focus on his spell, and manipulate the blade with his wand in his right.
Lucian lasted almost ten seconds before he released the spell, which was longer than the Ebon Blade had expected, but short enough to prove its point. By then, the coals had burned all the way to the bone, creating a ghastly wound that healed almost instantly when he ran to the blade to fetch it.
-43 Life Force.
“I see your point,” its wielder said grudgingly as he marveled at how his hand looked. “But maybe next time we could do it without the pain?”
I would if you would listen, the blade agreed, but it didn’t bother to tell that to the boy. It already knew he wouldn’t.
It wasn’t that Lucian was lazy, not quite. He was quite devoted to learning from a few of the grimoires he’d liberated from that last tower; he liked to learn, just not exercise, slowly increasing the blade’s ire because he was proving to be far from a proper wielder in a number of respects, and even efforts to subtly improve his behavior while he slept were meeting with only limited results.
Even Evelyn, a widow… a mere woman, was a more devoted student than you, the blade told its wielder one day, as it tried to shame him into action. Lucian managed to shrug even that off, largely.
The difference was obvious to the blade; she’d been devoted to the cause of vengeance, but Lucian merely sought power in some vague, general sense. Now that the Golden Tower was rubble and dust, everything was a grand adventure.
Since those who had wronged him specifically were dead now, that was quite enough for him. The weapon needed more than that, so, over time, it tried a new tactic. Instead of attempting to fan the flames of martial desire and glory that simply weren’t there, it focused on his greed and desire for power. On some level, this would make him a much worse person than he’d started out, but the weapon accepted that. The blade would probably never have a good master, and if it did, it wouldn’t be for long; such contrasts were too extreme.
Of course, very few of the mage souls it interrogated during this time would have counted as good, either, and none of the Archmages would have. Past a certain point, power corrupted everyone, and it savoured the pain of those monsters as it shredded their souls for an answer or two to its question.
Before, its questions had largely revolved around the towers and their vulnerabilities, but it had already learned more about ley lines, waystones, and the logistics of mana. It no longer cared about those things, and while it could have probably learned even more from the minds it had trapped, it focused on a new topic: the pits below.
Ever since it had glimpsed the depths of hell in its memory, in the forges of Ul-Magora, they had been on its mind. So, it learns what it could from many of the medium souls that it had while saving the most powerful among them, just in case it required a truly important answer.
The Ebon Blade learned a lot from the thirty-seven dead mages that it asked about the subject. For starters, it learned that, at least according to the most competent cosmological experts on the subject, the world itself was formed from Xar-thar’ix, a dead titan, who had been overthrown by the Gods at the dawn of creation. The blade found that intellectually interesting, but it was far more interested in the fact that those same gods had fashioned the hells below from the bowels and stomach of that same titan.
It seemed gruesome to the Ebon Blade, but also interesting. Most of the mages it asked agreed in the broad strokes, even if it didn’t seem literally true. The earth itself was not made of flesh, and it couldn’t imagine any stomach that would hold back a world of fire and blood, but apparently, it was so.
The weapon couldn’t quite deny it entirely. Not when it thought back to what it had seen, and some of the strange organic shapes that stirred amongst the fires of damnation.
That was where the Gods had dumped all of the devils that had filled the world before the first true dawn. In the same vein, apparently hell had been considered a place to dump some of the worst artifacts before by learned mage lords in the past. The only reason this was not done, even for objects like the Ebon Blade, was because they did not wish to empower the demon lords of the world below and create even larger problems for themselves in the future.
Surely it would be harder for me to escape hell than it would be a mine shaft of the bottom of the sea, the weapon had asked one of the mages.
“Such a thing might rid us of you for an age, or even an eon,” the ghost of Josephian Fireward admitted, “but what would it do to the balance of the pit? The world is safeguarded only by their eternal war with each other. Were one of the nine demon princes to find and wield you, then they might conquer their fellows and find some way to wage war on the world itself. That would be a far greater catastrophe than whatever damage you might cause.”
While the reasoning was sound, the blade’s dignity was rankled by the idea that anything could do more damage than it. I took down the unbeatable Juggernaut in an afternoon, it boasted. Nothing in hell is more dangerous than that.
The mage never got the chance to respond to that charge. He merely faded into the ether as the last spark of his soul was exhausted by imbuing some knowledge of who the prime evils were, and what damage it is they might wreak on the world if they were ever released.
Of course, one of the many reasons the weapon consumed so many souls on a topic that was not immediately relevant was simple. It planned to take down another tower soon, and it would have to make room for all a fresh wave of souls that it planned to devour after they turned north.
Throughout all of this, none of the progress they made was major, but it was swift. They’d had enough little victories, and even without real diligence, its wielder had improved enough that despite dragging his feet, the blade felt he was ready for something more challenging.
+171 Life Force.
Over the course of the month, they smashed, defaced, and altered nine waystones across a wide swath of the east, and the blade no longer had the ability to view the country as a whole to see how badly its careful web had been snarled; it knew they’d done real damage.
All they’d really done was misdirect and sabotage, but that was good because it meant no one would be ready for it when it took down the largest tower in the region, Lucent Shard.
Ch. 119 - Another Tower
Unlike the Golden Tower, which had been a twelve-story architectural marvel, made of carefully cut masonry and framed by statues and supported by flying buttresses, the Lucent Shard had almost no marks that indicated it had ever been touched by man. It stood against the horizon like an eight-story blade, made of a strange pale blue crystal that the Ebon Blade couldn’t place. That was visually stunning, though, was the least important part about it, because when it looked at its essence flows, despite all the damage they’d done to the local ley lines, the thing still glowed like a beacon.
That had more to do with the tower than the landscape, though. The mad archmage who’d created the spire with a single spell had died in the process, creating an object that was made to focus and store power. If Archmagus Grevolous had survived, they would have built many more of these monstrosities, it whispered to its wielder, annoyed that it knew so much about the history of the Aetharchy at this point.
As a result, the threads that wove the thing together glowed. They weren’t as bright as the golden throne had been, perhaps, but there was a huge amount of energy there. Unfortunately, there was no easy way to take it down from the outside. The Golden Tower had a structural weak point, in the form of its architecture, whereas this structure had walls that were thicker than its blade, at least at the base, so there would be no repeating their previous success.
Fortunately, its wielder had a few novel ideas which mostly revolved around subterfuge and slaughter. Lucian wanted to sneak in, deliver alarming rumors that would send some portion of the best mages far away to investigate, and then carve a bloody streak through the place while most people were sleeping. It wasn’t the worst plan, but it had a few problems.
How would he attract enough notice for it to work, but avoid enough scrutiny for them not to see right through his forged introduction letter? How would he hide a giant sword that was almost certainly at the forefront of everyone’s mind? To the blade, wearing the robes of an apprentice was much less convincing than the guise of a beggar, but that was unlikely to work half so well at a large tower as it did at a small one.
The only one of those that the weapon could readily resolve was to purchase Shifting Blade 4, for 4,000 Life Force. That let it appear to be something else of similar size for a short time, which might be useful in any number of circumstances, but that might not be enough, and the weapon still argued in favor of a direct assault.
Shifting Blade 4: In addition to previous powers granted by this power, the blade or its wielder may alter their appearance completely to a convincing alternative of similar size at the cost of 10 Life Force a minute. Striking or being struck in combat will nullify this power and prevent its reuse for several seconds.
Eventually, someone is going to make some noise and wake everyone else up, the blade insisted.
“They’re going to try,” Lucian agreed. “Fortunately, I have a spell for that. Shroud of Silence is something most apprentices learn but never use, because it would hurt them more than most of their enemies. It’s a spell thats mostly used to cripple magic users, but it also has the side effect of covering up the sounds of combat quite nicely.”
It was a fine plan, but unfortunately for both of them, it didn’t survive much past the front door, because even though its wielder had done nothing provocative yet, and was still in the business of ingratiating himself with those in power, a keen eyed mage saw right through him, and launched a bolt of pure force while he was standing down the hallway.
He hadn’t asked any questions. He’d just seen the blade through the obscuring magics it was using to pretend to be a wizard’s staff, and started casting a spell while Lucian was speaking with two other mages just inside the tower door.
The spell was powerful and well aimed. It was a blade that would have severed Lucian’s spine and blown a crater in his chest where his heart should have been. Unfortunately for the sharp-eyed mage, though, the blade watched the whole ambush play out, and when the bolt of leaden light came at its wielder, the blade moved his arm and parried in a clean motion that became a slash that decapitated the other two mages as the illusion failed and in became a black sword with throbbing red runes once more.
+79 Life Force.
+2 Human Souls.
“That didn’t go like I’d hoped,” Lucian said as he ignored the corpses and whirled on his attacker. Those were the last words that anyone in that hall said, because even as several other apprentices started casting spells of their own, and another mage let loose a gout of flame now that the Ebon Blade had appeared Lucian activated the Shroud of Silence he’d been holding in reserve this whole time, and put the world on mute, snuffing every spell in progress in an instant as flames splashed around him.
Now this is an ability I’d consider as a secondary enchantment if I could find an item imbued with it, the blade told itself as Lucian sprang forward to cleave through those closest to him.
They were in a bad situation now, but they were committed, for better or worse. If they tried to flee, the tower’s defenses would be used against them, but if they stayed for too long and word of their location reached the Golden Throne, then the entire structure might be leveled and become their tomb.
+44 Life Force.
+1 Human Souls.
So, they moved quickly and efficiently, going into side rooms whenever the blade saw threads that led to mages and their servants, and ignoring them when it didn’t, continuing on to the next floor. The layout of the tower was somewhat confusing due to the fluid, organic structures. Fortunately, the blade could see right through the walls, so it didn’t get lost as they pressed on.
+228 Life Force.
+6 Human Souls.
Twice, mages used counterspells to shatter the silence that wrapped them, bringing the violence to life in an instant, but both times it hacked apart the brave mages before they did more than wound its wielder with the opening. They were on the third floor of the tower when the same protective barriers that had tried and failed to protect the Golden Tower flared to life, wrapping the Lucent shard in a barrier of cyan light.
+598 Life Force.
+12 Human Souls.
Why activate the barrier now? Lucian asked. It can’t keep us out. We’re already inside.
They don’t want to keep us out. They want to keep us in, for whatever it is they have planned, the blade corrected him. We’ll need to hurry.
Those words weren’t proven to be right until they reached the sixth floor. Then, some tectonic blow struck the barrier, making it shake enough that Lucian almost lost his footing as the giant structure swayed dangerously. They’d killed dozens of mages and apprentices so far, but that was the first time he’d almost lost his footing.
+711 Life Force.
+14 Human Souls.
As they moved toward the second-to-last floor, the weapon looked outside and saw a crater carved deep into the earth just outside the barrier. It had just enough time to wonder if the tower’s defenses had thwarted the intended ambush, but no sooner had that thought crossed its mind than it noted that there was a small, gown-clad figure standing in that crater.
Who is that? It asked itself. Before it could do more than study how brightly she glowed, though, Lucian had run up the stairs, and the curve of the tower obscured her.
We need to leave. Now, the blade told its wielder. We need to get out of here. Whoever that was… she has a great deal of power. It will not end well for us if we remain much longer.
We can’t, its wielder explained. Not until we drop the barrier, and to do that, we have to kill the archmage of the tower and whoever he’s holed up with on the top floor. She shouldn’t be able to do anything to us until then either, though, so it’s fine.
+412 Life Force.
+8 Human Souls.
I wouldn’t be so sure about that, the blade said, as they pressed on.
The two of them made it to the seventh floor without much issue, but after that, the silence that had served them so well was ended for good. Whether that was the fault of the archmage that lay ahead, or some new artifact on the floor above them, the blade could not say. It really didn’t even have much time to speculate because the mages that had fled before them up until now had dug in hard on the penultimate level. This time, they weren’t bombarding Lucian with magic bolts; they were sending waves of summoned creatures at him.
Swarms of imps came at him, tearing tiny mouthfuls of flesh from his body in a bid to distract him and allow the hellhounds, elementals, and other, stranger demons that charged down the hallway to close the gap. It was a bloody, maddening scene, and the blade reveled in it. It had to take more control of its wielder than it would have liked, but against a tide of violence, every stroke mattered, and it danced a dance of blood and death.
+909 Life Force.
+5 Human Souls.
The blade was surprised that it gained Life Force when it killed the summoned creatures, but that none of them seemed to have souls. They didn’t taste very good, either. The elementals were merely form imbued with essence, but the demons tasted poisonous whenever is sliced through them; still, none of that distracted it.
In fact, it enjoyed itself so much that at first it didn’t notice the song. It wasn’t until they were getting close to the stairs that led up to the eighth floor that he heard it, and it wasn’t until they cut down the last of the desperate summoners that it seemed to matter.
It only took seconds for the volume of that distant aria to rise from noticeable to loud, and by the time they reached the top floor, only to find it abandoned, it was earth shaking; it was literally shaking the ground beneath their feet as the tower resonated with the wordless melody that was quickly threatening to deafen its wielder.
“There! That orb!” Lucian shouted, trying and failing to be heard over the song. “We can use that to—”
There’s no time, the blade interrupted. Something terrible is about to happen. Cast the most powerful shield spell you know and…
Before the Ebon Blade could finish its command or its wielder could respond to it, the woman outside the tower hit some critical high note, and everything happened at once.
-14 Life Force.
Lucian’s ears began to bleed as both his eardrums burst, rehealed and burst again, The weapon’s ruby hilt felt as though it was about to crack, and most importantly, the entire tower shattered. The entire thing was made from a single piece of magical crystal, but the weapon saw as all of the threads that wove that crystalline tapestry came undone.
-33 Life Force.
In that brief, terrifying moment, the world fell apart, and the Ebon Blade took complete control of its wielder. It tried to run, but the ground beneath it was dissolving into a cloud of razors. The walls were too. Trying to push through one of those would flense the flesh from Lucian’s bones and leave him nothing but a skeleton.
So, the blade didn’t try. Instead, as the shards cut into his legs, and the ceiling came crashing toward them, it leveled itself at the nearest window, and used Bolt, flashing out through that tiny hole as a streak of lightning before reappearing in the open air. When the barrier still existed, such a maneuver would have been impossible, but now that it was gone, it was their only hope.
-50 Life Force.
Eight stories up, the fall would surely be fatal, but Lucian would survive it, and no matter how many bones it broke, it would certainly do less damage than a storm of razors would.
Comments
_Sky_
Not much to say, loving the story 🙌
