《Sword of the Skies》


 Prologue

    Borash stood over Elijah, his acid drool melting through the last traces of the hero''s armor.


    "You have lost, hero; my armies shall pass through the portal. Watch, and know you have failed."


    Demons continuously swarmed past the duo, screaming and chattering as they went. The portal loomed in front of them, no wider than a large dog, but slowly growing. Their thirst for blood, made only stronger by the blood-red walls ever present in their cave-like home, would soon be satiated.


    Elijah could not allow them.


    "I would not be so smug if I were you." His legs began to melt. "There is more good in the world than you could ever have nightmares of. You will be sealed back into your dungeon."This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "And what makes you think that? Humans are corruptable, and even when they aren''t..." Balthazar leaned forward, dripping his saliva on Elijah''s chestplate. "They all die eventually."


    The acid ate through Elijah''s armor. Time was running out.


    "Be that as it may, Lord of Trickery, you underestimate me. I also have a trick or two up my sleeves."


    With that, he pressed a red gem in the pommel of his sword and threw it. It went flying. Past the hordes, through some winged demons, it surpassed them all and escaped hell before any demon could.


    "What did you do?!" shouted Borash, before looking down and realizing he was shouting at a pile of goo. It was in the shape of a crucifix, due to how Elijah was laying. He swiped the hero''s remains aside and howled with anger. Beelzebub would not be pleased.


    The portal needed time to grow before he could escape. But he couldn''t wait that long...


    "Find that sword!" was the last command the demonic legions heard as they poured into our world.

 Chapter 1: Hangover

    I awoke on the ground in a daze. Some fluid was covering my face. Probably vomit. Probably my own.


    I blew my nostrils clear. Nothing came out, and it didn''t smell, so it was probably someone else''s.


    Ugh...


    Hangovers suck. Mine usually feel like some distant blast knocked me on my head, and they''re usually accompanied by something disgusting, like someone else''s vomit on my face.


    As I wiped my face, I thought, Ooh, good, the chunky kind. My vision was kind of blurry from the leftovers as I looked around. All I could see was the outlines of peoples'' limbs hanging off of things. I found a blanket to clear my vision further.


    Now that I could see, I could start to identify people by their limbs. There was Fred''s hand on the couch, Maurice''s stubby finger under some blankets, Sarah''s legs out of the closet. Somehow Alice had gotten stuck between the retracted couch bed and the cushions Fred was sleeping on, but she seemed fine with it. She always liked tight spaces to sleep in.


    Not wanting to disturb anybody, I tiptoed into the restroom and washed my face. The chunks turned out to be wax, and I vaguely remembered something about Fred holding wax fruit covered in sugar, and a dare. Guess he couldn''t hold it all down after all.


    My stealth skill levelled up while I maneuvered about the wreckage from last night. As I neared the door, I noticed movement. It was Vanessa waving goodbye from the closet. She was cross-legged, Sarah sitting in her lap. She resumed stroking her sister''s hair; Sarah relaxed a bit more.


    "Heading out, then?" she whispered. I nodded. "I suppose it is a good time. Get up, sleepyhead, Josh is leaving." She shook Sarah awake, and they both slowly climbed out of the closet.


    After hugging goodbye, Vanessa put a finger to her mouth and creeped towards the rest of the visitors in an overly dramatic fashion. I grabbed the door handle, then turned to see what would happen.


    She motioned: 3, 2, 1..


    "ALRIGHT SOLDIERS, ON YOUR FEET! MOVE IT, MOVE IT!"


    Everybody with military background immediately sprang to their feet, and just as immediately regretted it. The headache you get from standing up fast mixes well with hangover. Everyone else just shuffled around and moaned. The three of us that were up shared stifled laughs. I waved goodbye, then headed out.


    That was the first party I''d been to in a while. It was nice. Good selection of people, the games were entertaining for all, general positive attitude. But now it was back to real life. Real life where you gotta work to earn your keep, people care what you say, laws govern the... people...


    I ran back inside, just to make sure. Where is it, where is it... There! I grabbed a device from one of the drawers, popped a fresh cap on it, and blew. Please, please, please... 0.02! Thank goodness, didn''t want to have to call a cab. Always good to be sure, though. I waved again to all of the now-conscious people who noticed my return, and hopped back outside.


    It was a beautiful day out. Sunny, only partly cloudy, light breeze; it was enough to stop me in my tracks just to enjoy it for a moment. Days like this are almost enough to cure depression. Almost.


    As I started the car, all the familiar thoughts along that line started coming back, but I wasn''t going to let them stay. Nah, today was much too beautiful to waste thinking about all that. I opened the window, and the warm, gentle breeze blew all the bad thoughts away.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The drive home was fairly short and uneventful. I don''t know what I was expecting from it. I dunno, something amazing, I guess... Upon arrival I parked the car and weighed my options. Option A: Go inside, enjoy some screen time, go to bed. Exciting, but a waste of a perfectly good day. Option B: Find someone to enjoy the day with. Ha, as if. Anybody who would be interested is still hungover, even if I could muster the courage to ask. Option C: Bike around the neighborhood for a bit, come home, then revert to Option A.


    Sounds like a plan.


    The bike seat was a bit uncomfortable when I started off. The foam material inside had hardened long ago. Usually the seat is the last thing to wear out, but I guess when you don''t ride often, atrophy sets in before the tires tear or the brake lines have a chance to crack. At least I took good care of it otherwise, and it ran smoothly out of the garage.


    My favorite place to ride is a neighborhood a few blocks over. The area used to be a quarry, but they ran out of material to dig, so they packed up and left a huge hole in the middle of the town, which had grown around the quarry. The people living nearby saw the damage and had the bright idea to clean the chemical wastes left behind and populate the area. The result was a neighborhood with one road spiraling towards the center, which had become a park, and a few walking paths going directly in and out. It was extremely satisfying to ride the spiral all the way down, only occasionally needing to press the brakes, then walk out via the walking paths. Sometimes I would take this path over and over, feeling the rush of the wind against my face, the smooth path underneath the tires, and just imagine this was it. This was all I ever had to do. I could just float down the road and leave all my worries behind.


    After the usual short ride only a few blocks away, I reached the top of the spiral, took a second to appreciate the breeze, waved to the neighbors, and started down the road.


    People all around were enjoying this day just as much as I. One fellow was watering his garden. Another was mowing, though it was obvious by the length of the grass she was just doing it as an excuse to get outside. One couple was sunbathing on towels in their front yard. The day was perfect and the whole world seemed to know it. Nothing could ruin this day.


    Then something strange happened. It got dark.


    I stopped by some road workers who were fixing the road by a small pool full of kids and looked to the sky. Where once before had been only blue skies and light fluffy clouds, now there was what appeared to be storm clouds. Not just any storm, either. They were ready to form a twister, centered directly over the neighborhood park.


    I looked around. The children noticed it, but having never experienced a storm of any magnitude, they just pointed and gleefully shouted rather than running for shelter. Behind me, the road workers were also unfazed. Something felt off.


    I looked back at the storm. A twister was definitely forming. It was halfway to the ground. My neck itched. Something was wrong.


    I shouted at the children, "Get inside!" They looked at me as if to say, "Look at this weirdo. You''re not my mom." They went back to admiring the clouds.


    The storm was growing quickly, at a steady rate. "Get inside! Now! You''ll die if you don''t!" I didn''t know where the words came from, but they felt true somehow. I shouted the same to the construction workers and they gave me the same look the children were.


    All around me, people were outside. Further in the spiral, people were coming out to answer the calls of curiosity from those outside. Something was very wrong.


    I suddenly realized I shouldn''t be on my bike, there was no way I was going to pedal fast enough to escape. I threw it to the ground and stepped backwards toward the nearest house, staring at the storm as it grew. The twister had almost touched down, then stopped. The bottom was hovering a few feet off the ground, and though the clouds continued to twist, it progressed no further.


    My foot fell in the hole the workers were going to fill. They were entranced by the storm, same as everyone else. They hadn''t even put the bags of concrete powder in their hands down. Looking down for a split second, the hole was large enough to hold all three of us, but the depth was questionable. It might be safer than standing outside, and it''s closer than the house, but if it wasn''t deep enough we''d be screwed. Then again, it appeared the workers did not intend to hide. They stood in their dazed state, seeming almost charmed by the storm, despite its lack of beauty.


    Before I could choose whether to run for the house or pull the workers in the hole, the blast chose for me.

 Chapter 2: The Sword In The Concrete Mix

    I awoke on the ground in a daze. Some fluid was covering my face. Probably vomit. Probably my own.


    I blew my nostrils clear. Nothing came out, and it didn''t smell, so it was probably someone else''s.


    Ugh...


    Hangovers suck. Mine usually feel like some distant blast knocked me on my head, and they''re usually accompanied by something disgusting, like someone else''s vomit on my face.


    As I wiped my face, I thought, Thank goodness it''s not chunky. Chunky vomit is the worst to clean up. My vision was kind of blurry from the leftovers as I looked around. All I could see was the outlines of peoples'' limbs hanging off of things. I searched for something to clear my vision further, but felt only hard ground. Why am I laying in the dirt? This must have been a crazy party.I settled for wiping my face with my sleeve, setting a mental reminder to throw this shirt away when I got home.


    After wearily wiping my face, the liquid cleared up nicely and the shapes became slightly less blurry. I didn''t see the partygoers I expected. Instead, all around me various people were stumbling around, bloodied and confused. Mothers and fathers were calling for their children, wailing could be heard from those that found them, and various limbs were hanging out of various objects in every direction.


    One such limb was very close by. In fact, it was almost close enough to brush against my face¡­


    Something brushed against my face.


    Aah!


    That was enough to wake me out of my stupor and get me to my feet faster than, ¡°Free ice cream!¡±


    The dog looked kind of startled, then trotted away looking for more faces to lick, as my face was now too far away.


    Now wide awake and able to see clearly, I was free to further examine my surroundings.


    The first thing I noticed was the blood on my hands. It wasn''t too much blood, but it was noticeable. It was mostly on my right hand, and somewhat on the upper sleeve of that arm as well. Based on its placement, I decided to check if the source was my head. It was, though not very strongly, thank goodness. I was kind of relieved it was blood, actually. At least I didn''t have to deal with more vomit. Then again, blood doesn''t come out too easily either.


    The next thing I noticed was that I couldn¡¯t hear very well. After wiping the blood off my index fingers, I dug around in my ears and found dirt in the right and water in the left.


    Strange, where could the water have come from? These don¡¯t look like rain clouds. They look more like either the clouds that come before a storm or the kind that come after some hell-hole opens in a fantasy story.


    I could only assume it was the former, though not two miles away in almost every direction the clouds turned into perfectly blue skies. Then I turned around and saw a hell-hole opening not too far away, at the center of the spiral.


    Well then, that explains a lot.


    Deciding I would worry about that last, I turned around to see what that limb which almost brushed against my head earlier was attached to. Turns out I landed not too far from the pool, now full of concrete powder, water, concrete bags, and blood, and home to at least two visible sets of body parts, including three arms and about half a head of hair.


    One of the arms was hanging over the side near the head of hair. I assumed the two were connected. The other arm likelybelonging to the same head was resting on the top of the concrete, with the wrist bent in an unnatural direction.


    The other arm was sticking straight up next to¡­


    Wait, is that a friggin¡¯ sword?


    ¡­


    Oh my goodness, it is.


    The situation was very grim, but also very dramatic. The three limbs in the concrete with the sword stuck straight up in the middle like King Arthur¡¯s Sword in the Stone made a fairly striking, yet macabre image.


    The thought of the sword in the stone gave me goosebumps.


    Acting like a movie star in a dramatic Hollywood film, I slowly walked back towards the slab of concrete, staring at the sword the whole way, trying my best to ignore the limbs sticking out of it. I then took a slow, dramatic step onto the¡­ stone¡­


    Welp, I guess this needed a little more time to dry.


    It was a fairly wet, gross, and non-dramatic walk the rest of the way to the sword. Along the way I stepped on various body parts underneath the concrete and tried to ignore the fact that they belonged to children not too long ago.


    Each step after stepping on the first limb made me consider returning, but I was already several feet in, so I thought I might as well go to the sword and get it over with. I also tried to avoid stepping in the bloody pools on top of the concrete, each of which made the trip that much more difficult and gruesome, but they were nigh-unavoidable. It was especially hard when I got to the sword, as there was a fairly large pool emanating from the location the sword was stuck in. I assumed this was from the owner of the arm sticking out nearby.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Once I got to the sword, I said a silent prayer of peaceful rest to all those I had stepped on to get here, especially the one the sword was stuck in. I then said a second prayer for the latter just before I pulled the sword.


    I half expected it to be as though I was the "chosen one" and it would just pop out. I was not quite so lucky. Instead, a small lump rose with the sword for a second and dropped back under when I stopped pulling, leaving an awkward mound in the middle of the pool, and the arm sticking out nearby a little bit lower. I kept working the sword out of the lump a little bit at a time, mostly by wiggling it back and forth. It finally came out when I pressed my foot against the body the sword was stuck in and gave one final tug. The hand nearby was little more than a thumb by this point. Kind of like a thumbs up.


    Good job, you did it! You pulled the sword out of my dead body! It seemed to say.


    ¡­


    I said another prayer for this poor child before turning back.


    I then tip-toed my way back through the pool, trying to avoid the locations I had felt bodies before and failing miserably. In the end, my pants were covered in concrete, blood, and regret, and my stomach was more than a little upset.


    But I have the sword now!


    This was a momentary thought before I lurched over and expelled all thoughts of those in the pool through my mouth in very chunky, acidy mouthfuls.


    The swoord!, I thought weakly.


    After cleaning my stomach and mind as much as possible, I then cleaned my pants of concrete as well as one can with a wet, crumbly stick. In the end, all I got off were the bloody, vommity parts, but that¡¯s all that I needed.


    I turned to leave those horrors behind me along with the slowly growing hell-hole in the distance, then started examining the sword more closely.


    The blade was long, slender, and almost unnaturally shiny. Not long for swords in general- it wasn''t quite bastard sword length- but for a one-handed sword it was quite lengthy. Even so, it was perfectly balanced in my hands. Must have been made for someone about my build; how lucky.


    The held end of the sword was quite unique. It gave an air of regality and importance without being ornate or intricate in any significant way. It was quite plain, but when you looked at it you could tell, a master smith spent a good amount of time making this. Perhaps most notable to this point were the two large gems set in the guard and pommel. In the pommel was a ruby, and in the guard an emerald. The emerald was especially striking, it was almost glowing with radiance... Or was it? Looking closer, it might actually be glowing.


    I wonder where this sword came from? It looks really unique.


    It doesn''t really matter does it?


    Nah, I guess not. It looks really intricate and expensive though.


    A bit too expensive, the owner''s probably looking for it.


    But then again, the owner''s probably dead, which would make it all mine.


    But what if they''re not? That''s theft, you''re better than that.


    But am I? I mean, I just climbed through a pool of dead children to get this thing. I think I earned it in some way or another.


    Earned it by walking on the dead. That totally makes sense.


    Well in any case, I don''t see anyone else looking for it. If someone sees me with it and asks, I''ll give it up.


    But everyone knows the best way to be found if lost is to stay put. If it moves they could miss it. Better put it back.


    ... In the dead body? Haha, what am I thinking?


    Those are not your thoughts.


    This notion came suddenly, but quietly. Almost more of a feeling.


    Anyways, you should definitely leave the sword nearby, in case the owner comes loo-


    My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed the emerald in the guard felt loose to the touch.


    Best not to mess with it. Wouldn''t want to do more damage to it than the blast already has. It seems way too valuable a gem to break.


    But I can just feel it moving back in. If I press it in real gently...


    Suddenly the sword shot up, out of my hands with extraordinary force.


    "Damn it!" came a voice from behind me. I whirled around to see an imp-like demon staring angrily at the sky. He looked back down, saw me looking at him, and slapped his hands to his mouth.


    I stood for a moment, my reactions delayed by shock. When my wits returned, I stumbled back away from the demon. "W- what in the hell?!"


    "Thankfully, not anymore. Now, you''ve found a fine specimen of an item, and my boss is looking for it. If you return it, you''ll be greatly rewarded. That is, when it comes back." He glared at the sky again, shielding his eyes to see better.


    "What? Who are you? What are you? Why the hell did the sword fly into the sky?!"


    "Boy, I wish I could answer that, but it''s not really relevant. As long as you return it when it comes down everything will be fine. Or, maybe, I could just grab it before you." The imp stepped forward, grasping his hands menacingly in indication of his intentions.


    "You stay back!" I shouted, pointing at him.


    Almost immediately after raising my finger, what seemed like a bolt of lightning shot through him. His face, still menacing, drooped towards the ground along with his grasping hands. He remained upright, somehow. Looking closer, I noticed a dark area beneath the imp, reaching from his midsection to the ground. I cautiously walked around the imp, afraid this might be some trick, and found the source of the dark area. It was a sword, stuck directly through his back and into the ground, pinning him in place and not allowing him to fall. As far as I could tell, he was dead.


    I reached out towards the sword, then recoiled from the sight of my own arm. My entire body had become covered in black, segmented armor. The stuff was light as air, but, scratching it, hard as steel.


    "What the hell..."