Immortal swordslinger 5, p.1
Immortal Swordslinger 5, page 1
Immortal Swordslinger 5
Dante King
Copyright © 2022 by Dante King
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
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Immortal Swordslinger
Bone Lord
About the Author
Chapter 1
Guildmaster Xilarion didn’t believe in doing things by halves.
The Radiant Dragon guild house rang with the clash of weapons, grunts of exertion, and bursts of Augmentation as every able-bodied member trained their hardest.
Enhanced reflexes and hundreds of hours of training of my own were just enough to keep me out of harm’s way, but watching over the newer recruits was stretching my focus to its limit.
Pairs of initiates and outer disciples sparred around the deathless pillar of flame at the center of the guild house courtyard. I recognized some of the trainees, but there were just as many grizzled Augmenters I’d never laid eyes on before.
I sidestepped a descending staff before it cracked off the flagstones with a burst of sparks. The owner paused his sparring and shot me a guilty glance.
In return, I offered a grin and an encouraging slap on the shoulder. Awe flashed in his eyes. His opponent jabbed him in the gut with a training spear, and the guy who’d almost brained me turned his attention back to his training.
I weaved in and out of the tightly packed Augmenters, offered a comment on technique here, or a suggestion on Augmenting there, and kept the lower ranks of the guild in check. My hand rested on the Sundered Heart Sword by my side, and a dragon’s voice slid into my mind.
“On your right, Master,” Nydarth said. “The young ones grow too fierce in their play.”
I adjusted my path through the crowd of training Augmenters and found the culprits. Two young initiates were going at it, hammers and tongs. Their weapons of choice were in pieces on the ground, and the hiss of Untamed Torches boiled between their hands. Anyone with two working eyes could see they hated each other and viewed their training as the perfect vector for this shared hatred.
“Much like your rivalry with young Wysaro,” Nydarth said.
“Yeah, but he actually wanted to kill me. And we ended up working together.”
“Perhaps a lesson you must impart to these young drakes.”
I doubled my pace as the insults stopped flying and the magic flared up. I had plenty of options to take the students down a notch, but I figured a more dramatic method would ram the lesson home.
My Physical pathways opened to the ocean of Vigor stored within me, and I strolled into the middle of the firefight as the first Untamed Torches blasted from the initiates’ hands. I channeled fire into my body to increase my resistance to heat and caught a blast of flame on each side. I couldn’t resist folding my arms and putting on a disapproving face. The gouts of flames vanished immediately, and the two warring initiates stared at me in abject horror.
The last remnants of the fire washed around my clothes, fizzled out, and left me untouched. Half of the surrounding initiates had stopped to watch the confrontation, and I raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t hear anyone call, ‘Stop,’” I said.
Some of the newer students almost fell over themselves as they resumed training. The guy on my left—a Wysaro, judging by the red eagle on his training robe—summoned more fire into his hands, but I shook my head.
“I’m calling a timeout for you two, though.”
“He called me a traitor!” the Wysaro snapped.
I glanced at the other student. An unassuming farm boy from Flametongue Valley, probably, with a blunt face and no malice in his eyes. I doubted the Wysaro’s story, but I wasn’t about to get too involved in the discussion. We had enough problems as it was.
“And?” I asked.
“Well, that’s an offense against my family’s honor, and… uh—”
The Wysaro’s bluster broke down when he saw the look on my face. I had to tread lightly here. I didn’t have any particular love for the Wysaro clan, in light of recent events, but we needed every able-bodied Augmenter we could find.
So, busting the kid’s balls about his family’s relationship with treason was off the table. I decided instead to channel my inner Yoda and teach both of them something.
“Augmentation is a precise art,” I explained. “Precision requires focus. Emotion blurs that focus. It stops you from reaching your full power. Or it allows the other person to pull the wool over your eyes and strike you when you’re least expecting it, which can get you killed.”
The farmboy’s eyes widened. “Has that happened to you, Ethan?”
“I try to be the guy pulling the wool over the eyes. So, focus without letting emotion drive the magic. And remember, you two might hate each other for whatever reason, but there’s a war coming, and I don’t care where you’re from. What I need to know is this: Can I count on you to have each other’s backs when you’re facing an army of demons?”
The farm boy and the Wysaro kid blanched at the question.
“You’re Radiant Dragon initiates now,” I reminded them. “You’re part of a greater whole. I didn’t get as far as I did alone. Who you see as your enemy or rival today might be your ally tomorrow.”
The Wysaro snorted, and I chuckled at that.
“Just ask Hamon Wysaro, or Labu of the Qihin. I’ve fought by their side before, for the greater good. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant protecting the guild. “
Their eyes bulged at the names, and I told them to pick up their weapons and change partners. I swam back into the fray of the initiates and outer disciples, giving the hilt of the Sundered Heart a grateful squeeze.
“I appreciate that, Nydarth. Doesn’t look good if two kids barbecue each other on my watch.”
“You were one of them, once,” she purred. “So young and supple and hotheaded.”
“Well, I’m still supple. Just a little less young.”
“Such is the nature of things. First, a mere hatchling. And now? You grow ever stronger, with each rank you claim within the guild. Soon, you will transcend the need for their ranks in the first place, Master. And you and I will finally embrace.”
“Pillow talk later,” I said. “Got a job to do, here.”
The center disciples of the Radiant Dragon were responsible for the overseeing of training and discipline for the lower ranks. I’d won my title in a bout with the masters of the guild themselves, but that wasn’t what most people knew me as.
“Swordslinger!” a voice called.
I pinpointed the source of the sound and spotted Xilarion’s personal aide. The thin, nervous man perched on the stairs, unwilling to descend into the fray. I sidestepped a shoulder charge from an enthusiastic initiate, then gave the scribe a wave to show I’d heard him. I offered a few more nuggets of advice as I wove through the crowd of students before I joined the scribe at the foot of the wide steps that led to the guild hall.
“Morning,” I said. “I take it Guildmaster Xilarion needs to see me?”
The scribe nodded. “Your wives have requested your presence first, but yes, once you’ve met with them, I’ll bring you to his quarters for your appointment.”
“Thanks. One moment.”
I summoned my Vigor into my pathways, stepped into the air with a burst of Flight, and levitated above the mass of students. Small streamers of fire danced around my feet and legs to hold me in the air. I grinned at the usual rush of flying with magic.
“Initiates! Disciples!” I shouted.
The mass of students halted their sparring, did a double take as they saw me midair, and stood to attention. Six dozen or more young Augmenters, each on their own Path, sheathed their weapons and waited for my next command.
“Take an hour for breakfast. You’ve earned it,” I called.
I readjusted my trajectory in the air and
“The monks taught you well, Master,” Nydarth observed.
“I would’ve liked to spend more time with them,” I replied, “but there’s a war brewing, remember?”
“Of course. Flesh and blood and fire unleashed in passion, hatred, and love.” The dragoness within the Sundered Heart sounded ecstatic. “Those dusty, old fools have no stomach for it, even if they were the reason for its beginning.”
“I don’t think the Hierophant planned for Tymo to hand Jiven the Void Orb,” I said. “But you’re right. They should’ve stayed, but they gave us what we needed.”
“Oh?”
“We know Jiven’s planning to assassinate the Emperor. He might have a week’s head start on us, but that’s not going to stop us from catching him and kicking his ass up between his ears.”
I landed at the top of the steps and drank in the view of the guild house. In another world, it might have been a Chinese palace, dripping with gold and red banners, but after spending so much time here, it’d become the closest thing to home I’d found in the Seven Realms.
I pushed through the heavy oak doors before cutting left with a steady stride. I’d tried flying inside before, but the aura of my Vigor tended to set the tapestries on fire, which had earned me a gentle chiding from Faryn.
It was fair enough. The Radiant Dragon didn’t exactly teach Flight to most of its students. Not when you had to kill a couple of flying killer lizards to learn it.
I heard a wall-shaking roar, and I angled toward the sound with a grin. Kegohr’s battle cry was unmistakable, and it was loud enough to wake the dead. I pushed my way through another door and entered one of the wide courtyards within the guild house. Scorched pavestones widened under my feet, but I didn’t have time to appreciate the architecture.
A Greater Stone Golem shot backward through the air, straight for my face.
I didn’t waste a second. Wood Augmentation blitzed through my pathways, and I stomped against the pavestones. A wall of Plank Pillars erupted from the ground to create a makeshift palisade. The golem crashed into the planks, mulching most of them, but my technique had been enough to stop the summoned creature from punching a hole in the side of the guild house. It collapsed into a pile of stones behind me. I incinerated the wall of thick wood with a single burst of Untamed Torch and stepped through the cloud of cinders to join my friends.
All seven feet of Kegohr stood at the center of the courtyard, encased in the rippling blue fire of his Spirit of the Wildfire talent. I cleared the cloud of ashes, and his huge muscles shifted under his blue fur as he wiped his tusked mouth on his sleeve. The half-ogre was one of the first friends I’d made in the Seven Realms, and since our journey to the Dying Sun Monastery, he’d become the ogre equivalent of the Hulk and the Human Torch on steroids.
“Ethan!” he called. “Where have you been?”
“Doing your job for you, big guy,” I teased. “Whipping the younger students into shape, while you’re up here trying to knock down the whole guild house.”
A white marble statue in the shape of a petite, young woman with a staff stood opposite Kegohr. It melted back into flesh as I got closer, and Mahrai bounced her weapon off the flagstones. The pile of stones behind me that had been a Greater Stone Golem dissolved into a cloud of dust, and the Earth Augmenter glared at Kegohr, unintimidated by his size or power.
“You’re cheating again,” she growled. “We agreed—no Physical Augmentation.”
“Aren’t you using it?” Kegohr fired back.
“To stop myself getting incinerated, you huge lump of lard—”
I kissed Mahrai’s cheek and cut her off mid-sentence. She relaxed into me for a moment, and her fingers tightened around my ass, just out of sight from the rest of the crew, before she shook her head and muttered something about boulder-headed ogres.
“Good to see you, too,” I redirected her.
“You and I are getting drunk tonight,” Mahrai declared. “And then we’re going to—”
“Ethan!” Vesma called from across the courtyard.
“—get distracted, apparently,” Mahrai muttered.
I kissed Mahrai’s hair, enjoying her unique, musky scent, and treated her to a cheeky pinch on the ass in return. She didn’t flinch, but blood flushed into her cheeks, and she gave me a mock-angry shove.
“Plenty of me to go around, Mahrai,” I said.
Vesma, Faryn, and Kumi stood at the other end of the courtyard. Kegohr and Mahrai fell into step beside me as we made our way to the others. Kumi and Faryn were halfway through a sparring session. Their blades shone in the morning sunlight, and I took a moment to appreciate the skill and talent of my wives.
Kumi’s royal robes flowed with each beguiling step she took, baring her smooth belly, tight hips, and strong, lean arms. Her dark skin and braided hair blurred together as she used traditional Qihin techniques and her butterfly daggers to fend off Faryn’s straight sword. There were years of training in Kumi’s movements, years of flowing and intercepting and deceptive counter-attack that I’d initially found so hard to combat on the Diamond Coast.
Faryn fought with a different kind of elegance, a different kind of speed. The elvish Wood Master kept her free hand tucked behind her back and used straightforward, lancing attacks with her blade, much like a traditional fencer.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Master Faryn!” Kumi boasted. The Qihin princess slapped yet another strike aside, danced in, and caught Faryn’s straight sword between her butterfly daggers.
Faryn twisted in an attempt to disentangle her weapon, but the blade lock was too firm. She crowded Kumi until their faces were a few inches apart, separated only by glistening steel.
“Impressive technique, Kumi,” Faryn acknowledged. She released her grip on her sword, swung out of the way of Kumi’s knives, and caught Kumi’s flowing garb. Kumi staggered, and Faryn cut her legs out from under her with a smooth sweep of her foot. Kumi gasped, released her grip on her weapons, and hung in the air for a split-second. Faryn’s sword shot up into the air, spinning end over end, and the elf snatched it out of the air as her opponent hit the pavestones. She pressed the blade against Kumi’s collarbone with an angelic smile.
“But you’re too focused on the dance,” Faryn critiqued.
“Slick,” I commented.
Faryn and Kumi’s eyes snapped to me, and I winked. Vesma strolled to my side, and I greeted her with a kiss. Each of the girls had their own unique skill set, and Vesma’s talents lay in both background knowledge of the Seven Realms, and an uncanny precision with Fire Augmenting. Vesma handed me a harness, weighed down by a golden trident and a stout warhammer. I took my other two Immense Blades, buckled the harness onto my body, and the familiar voices of the Depthless Dream and the Demure Rebirth joined Nydarth in my mind.
“Ah, reunited at last, Master.” Yono sighed. “Every moment away from you feels like the waning of the moon upon the tides. Did you fulfill your duties to the young ones?”
“He went above and beyond,” Nydarth assured.
Choshi’s younger, brighter voice joined the other two. “Good morning, Master!”
“Morning, Choshi. Yono didn’t lull you to sleep with her ocean metaphors?” I asked in my mind.
“She tried.” Choshi giggled. “But I’m used to it by now.”
I pushed their voices to the back of my mind and refocused on my wives. Faryn helped Kumi to her feet, and all the women clustered around me in a tight circle. A fierce surge of pride bled into my veins. We’d met in insane circumstances, fought unimaginable evils together, and each of them had proven themselves a true companion ten times over.
Jiven Wysaro didn’t stand a chance against us. Not if we were together.
“Thought you’d still be working with the kids,” Kegohr said.
“I told them to have breakfast,” I replied.
“Good, because you’re short on training, yourself,” Vesma commented. “We need you as sharp as you can get for when Xilarion gives the word to go after Jiven.”
