The Blood-Stained Blade Ch. 104-105

Ch. 104 - Last Gasp

The Ebon Blade watched as the ad-hoc army assaulted the gates and curtain walls for several minutes with cautious, probing attacks. Some of these were quite powerful, but each time they retreated. This was enough to make the weapon think that there were some defenses it didn’t know about at play, but no matter how much it searched for them, it found nothing. 

It would have defended the place with a hundred golden knights if it could. However, since it was limited to only nine guardians, that plan would be impractical. It had already seen how the weakness of these magical knights could be exploited, so it would use them carefully to their best effect. It didn’t care how much damage its enemies dealt to this place, only that they bled for the privilege. 

Then, when no one stopped them, a few men scaled the walls to open the gate. The blade decided not to allow that and sent one of its guardians barreling out of the same window that Evelyn’s corpse had shattered earlier. The golden armor went to pieces in the garden, but in seconds, it had put itself back together and was charging toward the three men who were trying to raise the portcullis and lift the bar that sealed the doors. 

They heard the sound of plate mail in time to turn, but even with their swords out, they had no chance of saving themselves. Its golden guardian lacked the Ebon Blade’s Siphon ability or any of its other powers, but it could fight with the blade’s skill, which was really all it needed, and for once, the weapon enjoyed fighting enemies with a bit of a handicap.

The golden guardian was only twice as strong as a man, which was less than half the strength of whoever wielded it. So, it was able to take them apart a piece at a time and leave them bleeding on the ground before retreating to wait for the next wave. Then, men on the other side of the wall sent a volley of arrows over at it, as well as a bolt of lightning from the sky, but neither affected it in the slightest. 

This forced them to batter the gate down a while longer with magic. The Ebon Blade did nothing to stop that. It only waited for the thing to fail completely as mage fire burned through the defenses before it quit the field entirely. 

As hundreds of men and dozens of mages moved into Altbarstein in force, the blade decided that their best plan of attack was probably to level the place. That would have buried it under tons of rubble. Foolishly, though, that didn’t appear to be their plan. They seemed to want to capture it directly, which would almost certainly prove to be impossible. 

To do so, they charged toward the central keep in waves. Ten or twenty warriors surged forward with a mage or two toward every entrance, braced for trouble, but there were no guards. The entrances had been closed and locked with a thought, and there were still a few servants trapped inside, but the blade wasn’t interested in killing them down there. It couldn’t devour their souls from such a distance, and it was in the mood to collect as many mage souls as possible. 

The blade had sealed the main door to the throne room, and it felt sure that the walls surrounding it were more likely to be breached than it was. The thing was utterly massive. It was a twenty-foot-tall bronze affair embossed with an image of King Paralon standing astride the world that must have weighed several tons; with its magic, Var'gar might have had a prayer of forcing it open, but none of the humans it had ever seen could say the same. 

It would resist anything short of dragonfire. That wouldn’t protect it entirely, of course. There were still two smaller doors on either end of the hall and the windows, but the weapon had planned for that. Those were chosen to be its chokepoints.

As they forced down doors and cleared hallways in the lower levels, looking for clues and survivors, it staged its men. Four of the golden guardians stood just out of sight near each door and one by the throne in case someone got past the first wave. Of course, it might be willing to let the right person get past its guardians, but it wouldn’t know that until they were here. 

The weapon hungered for a wielder. Despite how many tools and resources it had here, laying on the throne, it wanted, more than anything, to be back in the hands of a living warrior, and empty suits of armor made a poor replacement for that. 

I cannot taste their blood or their marrow from here! The blade complained to itself as it watched the bands of armed men make slow progress through the building. While they did so, it considered buying some of the upgrades that were available to it but resisted the temptation to do so. That could wait for an emergency or for when it had more time to think and plan. Doing so now, on the brink of battle, would be folly. 

Still, nearly an hour passed before the first group managed to reach the throne room. That was ironic, considering that despite all of their effort, all of them were left bleeding out on the tiles in less than two minutes. 

+162 Life Force.
+13 Human Souls.

They would have died even faster had the view of trying to direct four separate warriors not been so confusing. Except for perhaps the now-dead Juggernaut, the Ebon Blade was a warrior without peer, but fighting ten men at once with one body was far different than fighting them with four different bodies, and that problem only became worse as its enemies started attacking both doors at once.

+332 Life Force.
+27 Human Souls.

The increased load of controlling eight different moving combatants at once was too much, even for it. Suddenly, it was losing. Not completely, or all the time, but now, instead of cleanly slicing through groups like butcher, they’d sometimes manage to knock one of its guardians out of the fight for a few seconds before they perished. That didn’t put the Ebon Blade in any danger, but it was humiliating just the same. 

Truthfully, if they’d relied solely on swords and axes instead of magic, they would have done better. The mages almost always got in the way of those who were supposed to defend them. Sometimes, they even killed them, and for what? Fire, lightning, and acid did nothing to metal men. Ice or force was only scarcely better. Ice would lock up the joints of the things, slowing them down for a minute or two, and force would scatter them across the marble for half a minute.

+621 Life Force.
+54 Human Souls.

Still, for every small victory the mages won with those spells, they killed someone in the process, and the blade took all of their souls. The warriors it consumed immediately, but only to keep its soul storage free for the more valuable targets. It didn’t really like the idea of feeding the throne like this, but it had no other choice. It couldn’t control the souls that were drawn to it any more than it could affect the fog of energy that was coming from the dead and the wounded that lay scattered across the floor. 

As the battles went on sporadically, the blade tried to peer into the hearts of those that it fought, but it found nothing special there. These were creatures of duty and fear, not bloodlust; they fought it because they feared what would happen to them if they ran for their lives. 

+387 Life Force.
+32 Human Souls.

Twice, mages assisted by spells that made them move quickly or fly almost made it to the throne to steal the blade. In both cases, though, they met their end on the steps. In the case of the runner, its final guardian loped him in half. The flyer, though, the blade took out personally, using a Bolt spell to knock him to the ground, where the man was promptly dispatched.

Once, toward the end of the fighting, half of the remaining teams of men broke through at once, causing over a hundred warriors to assault the throne room at once. This was as close as the humans came to victory. If they’d been able to keep that pressure up for a few more minutes, they might have been able to break through one or both choke points, and if they’d done that, they would have been able to break through completely. 

Of course, the blade's final line of defense would be to grab anybody it could and keep fighting. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that, and eventually, those who were able to retreat from the blood-soaked antechambers, leaving the corpses of the comrades in their wake and leaving the blade with the souls of more than twenty mages to play with at its leisure. 

+722 Life Force.
+59 Human Souls.

In the end, none of the warriors it saw stood out as being both brutal and skilled enough for it to suffer their presence. These had been heroes who saw it as a monster to be slain, and it would not suffer those conflicts lightly, even with the advanced level of control it achieved. 

Children of King Paralon, the blade shouted into the ether in a voice that it hoped was loud enough to reach the hundred or so lights spread throughout the kingdom that it wanted to reach. Your father is dead, the throne has fallen, and one of you will be my next wielder. Come to the capital and fight for the right to hold the Black Blade of Baraga or die trying. Anyone who attempts to flee the kingdom or avoid answering this call. Do not test me. 

When it was done, it sampled a few of the minds it had touched almost at random, enjoying the panic. Yes, this would be fun, it decided. While it really should be trying to leave the castle, it lay in as soon as possible. It wasn’t in a huge hurry. The place’s magical defenses seemed to force even powerful wizards to take the long way, and for now, that was the only real defense that it needed. 

Ch. 105 - Free For All

In addition to watching the walls of its flimsy fortress for the next sign of attack, the blade spent its time watching and judging the men and women that descended from the now-dead King. It couldn’t watch them all at once, any more than King Paralon had. It could only peek into each life, one at a time, and in those glimpses, it found only chaos. 

It found men panicking, wives fighting with husbands, and, more generally, statements of cowardice. It didn’t strike anyone down for that last behavior. Swearing to flee beyond its reach was a far cry from actually doing so. The blade knew more than anyone else that even a brave wilder might have doubts before a battle and that at least some of those cowards would change their minds in the days ahead. 

Its gaze only lingered where it found the conversations interesting, and in most cases, this involved mages. “I can confirm that Altbarstein has fallen,” one dark-robed man told the Duke of Durnwell. “Your father is no more, and whatever slew him has repelled attempts to take back the throne.”

“But that’s impossible!” the Duke declared. “The Golden Throne grants father immortality! And the Jugg… his dark bodyguard. What could get past that?”

“A limited form of immortality, yes,” the mage agreed. “But such things don’t work well on violent ends, and if the black blade was truly able to beat the King’s black knight, well, no magic is likely to help with an end that violent.”

“What are you going to do then?” the noble demanded, grasping for some kind of lifeline. The blade thought it was very unlikely that he would be its next wielder. He was an old, flabby sort, “Surely the Aetherachy has a contingency for this.”

“I really can’t say,” the mage hedged. “But I, like you, would expect them to have a contingency for almost any conceivable threat. If it really is the black blade, though, well, that’s not something that’s easily dealt with. The throne couldn’t conquer it, and the depths wouldn’t swallow it, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t already making plans in Hightower or Heron Hall. This threat will be answered.”

The blade noted the names, and made a point to ask one of its mage souls what and where these places were later. For now, though, it continued to listen.

“That’s what it said it was,” the King’s fifty-year-old son insisted. “It said it was the Black Blade of Baraga, and if we don’t fight each other for it, then it will kill us. Do you think that’s possible?”

“Though I doubt the blade can reach you from here, it’s not impossible,” the mage admitted. “If it truly has the throne, well, then anything within the kingdom might be within its reach.”

The two chatted a while longer. The mage even admitted that he’d heard that attempts to reclaim the throne room hadn’t gone well but that “The nature of the throne’s defenses make it especially strong against magic. Against another foe, we would just open a gate and storm the place, but King Paralon made that impossible long ago.”

Eventually, he departed, leaving the Duke alone, and when he left, the blade’s interest went with him. If only I could spy on that one, it reflected. I could learn much from that. 

Some of the other conversations it listened into that night, as it waited for another wave of attacks that never materialized, were interesting. However, none of them were nearly as informative, and as the hour grew later and later. Eventually, all of those dots went to sleep, leaving the blade along with its thoughts. It tried to spy on their dreams and found that it could, but it also found such experiences dizzying. 

Robbed of reality, the mind of another revolted the blade, so instead, it turned back to its own upgrades and concerns. I will eventually leave this spot, it told itself, hopefully, sooner rather than later. 

If that was the case, then what it needed to do was use as much of this power up as it could because it was sure that when it vacated the seat, whoever took it up again would use that power against the blade. Destroying it would have been even better, but given what had happened to its wielder the last time it had tried that, the blade reasoned that such rash acts were impossible, at least until its power was thoroughly depleted. 

Spending it, though, that was dicey, too, but there was no third option. It could either spend it or leave it behind. Even after spending so much yesterday, it had already gained thousands of Life Force in the interim and was only about 30,000 less than it had been before. 

Throne Life Force: 81,902,471/100,000,000

How much of that is from the bloodbath, and how much is merely from it siphoning away the power of its subjects? It asked itself, but it was clear that both played apart. Hours before, the floor had been covered in blood. Now all that was gone, and only the dry, desiccated corpses of the vanquished remained behind, singly and in piles.

The blade looked through its powers and decided that the best way to proceed was to max out its Aethersight and then go from there. It's the only thing that will let me study this cursed chair in any greater detail. It still knew very little about the details of magic, but if it could learn more about the thing’s workings, it could ask one or more of the mage souls it had saved. It had nearly two dozen of those right now. Surely, one of them would know something. 

As it purchased Aethersight level three, four, and five, it felt small surges of power flow through it. That was what worried it. In the past, the weapon felt cold when it used up its power, but this time, each use of energy resulted in another surge. It spent just over ten thousand Life Force to max out the ability. Such a sum would have been enough to deplete it on any other day, but today, its power was unchanged. However, with each upgrade, its sight grew sharper. 

The first level had given it the power to see like a mage, and the second level had given it the ability to use that power at will without cost. The third and fourth levels likewise sharpened that vision. It didn’t know what emanations were or aspects, but its enhanced sight allowed the blade to see them. To it, it was like the white glowing lines of creation took on colors and patterns, allowing it to gain a deeper impression of each object than it had before.

In that vision, the golden throne was no longer a single white bonfire but a thousand tiny ones in every shade of gold, copper, and blood. It was a fine tapestry woven from millions of lives, and the blade that laid upon it was an equally complex knot of red and black.  

The blade interrogated the souls of two mages chosen at random from its collection when it saw those complex patterns, but their knowledge of how to create such things was meager. “Such complexity is all but unknown!” the first one claimed, and based upon his memories, he wasn’t lying. 

The second one had only slightly better luck. It was able to explain how the runes that bound and defined it caused second- and third-order effects, but attempting to understand what the blade saw burned out his mind before he was capable of grasping even the vague outlines of the problem. 

The blade didn’t really understand why until it studied its golden knights or even a rage blade left over from the fight. Only then did it realize how much simpler a hex blade was than it was. Up until now, the blade had thought that it was just a more powerful hex blade, but it was clear now that was not the case, and that became more true when it finally used Aethersight level 5 to study the thing. 

Aethersight 5: Nothing can evade your sight. You no longer view the world as a tactician, a warrior, or a mage, but as something more. This level of perception is normally reserved for the gods themselves, and will allow you to see to the very heart of your opponents, understanding their weaknesses immediately. 

Then, it could see that it had no more relation to the thing than a human did to a goblin. Both might have 4 limbs, a head, and a beating heart waiting to be silenced forever, but the differences would forever outnumber their similarities. 

Likewise, it could now see the way the throne and the way that it interacted, and though it didn’t understand all of those connections, it seemed possible that the balance of power could be reversed if it overplayed its hand, though there didn’t seem to be any danger of that happening any time soon. 

Presently, there were currents of red leaking through the throne’s weave rather than currents of gold climbing up through the blade’s tightly wound essence. The possibility that the situation might change wasn’t enough to stop the blade. It had spent ten thousand Life Force on its sight, and it was ready to spend another ten thousand on Golden Storage to double its reserves. 

Fire flooded through it as it spent more energy than it ever had before on a single purchase, but the discomfort was meaningless to it. Instead, it watched the weave of the two powerful artifacts as power arced between them. The gold definitely advanced, but only a little. 

Next, the blade tried using one of the throne’s minor bones to solve a local famine on the east side of the Inner Kingdoms. It barely felt that surge of power, clearly showing the line between the two power sets. 

If I spend its power to upgrade, then its influence on me increases ever so slightly, but if it spends its own power on its own abilities, then nothing happens to me, it decided. 

That simplified things. For the rest of the evening, the blade spent Millions of Life Force that had probably been accrued over decades. No, spending was the wrong word. It wasted it, frivolously. It addressed every minor complaint that appeared on the things status screen, and it could feel the throne's outrage as it happened. 

Periodically, as it watched the things grip on it get smaller and smaller as golden threads retreated in the face of blood-red ones, it would purchase one of the large upgrades it still desired, claiming both Golden Range and Golden Strength in this way. 

As a decision it was risky, and each time the throne’s grip on it tightened once more. Once, after it burned 20,000 Life Force to claim Golden Strength, it could actually hear the throne screams of outrage at the edges of its mind. Without the soul that had been its keystone they were chaotic, disordered things, but as soon as it started to grant more wishes to the denizens of its country, they faded. The thing wanted to be a god, but now it was being bled dry serving the people it had been built to serve. 

Bled dry is a bit strong, it corrected itself. Even when it was done resolving every reasonable crisis, it still had tens of millions of essence in reserve, but even if someone managed to retake the thing now, its goal of godhood would be pushed at least a century further into the future, and that could only be a good thing. 

In the weeks and months ahead, as all of this surging power ended any number of plagues, famines, and led to heroes rising up to purge monster nests, the Inner Kingdoms would experience a surge of plenty like they’d never known before. That should have annoyed the blade since it had wanted to burn the entire place down, but it no longer blamed the entire world for its creation and treatment.

The king who had done it was dead, and anything it could do to weaken the throne that had puppeted the man and tried to control it was a good thing as far as it was concerned. More food and freedom will simply allow the peasants to breed so that I might have more of them to slaughter in the future, the Ebon Blade decided, satisfied with the decision it had made.