Sevenfold Sword

by Jonathan Moeller

  The time was almost at hand.

  ###

  Kalussa cursed and ran forward as her father fell. Some of the knights raised half-hearted hands to stop her, but she tore free and raced up the dais. Hektor Pendragon lay on his back, shivering, his eyes open and staring at nothing. Rypheus had backed away a few paces, his face blank, while Adrastea stood over her husband, eyes wide with shock.

  “Can you not see the truth?” said Tamlin. “He was poisoned! Prince Rypheus poisoned him!”

  “Summon Lady Calliande!” said Adrastea, terror on her face. “Quickly! We need her healing magic. Does anyone know where she is? Find her!”

  Kalussa rushed to Hektor’s side, kneeling next to him. His eyes rolled back and forth without seeming to see anything, his face pale, his strong body shaking. Poison, Rypheus had poisoned him. But the poison had been in the wine. He had just swallowed it. There couldn’t have been much time for the poison to work his way through his body.

  “Tamlin!” shouted Kalussa. He was at her side a second later, gazing in horror at his King. “Hold his jaws open. Quickly!”

  Tamlin blinked in confusion, then nodded, dropped to his knees, and pried the King’s mouth open.

  “What are you doing?” said Rypheus. “They are harming the King, they…”

  “Get back, sir!” said Sir Tramond, who had drawn his sword.

  But he was now pointing it at Rypheus.

  The Crown Prince’s eyes narrowed, but he remained motionless.

  Tamlin pried the King’s jaws open, and Kalussa pinched his nose shut with her left hand.

  She pushed the first finger of her right hand as far down his throat as she could manage.

  The results were immediate. Hektor heaved, and he sat up and vomited out a thick black sludge, spattering both Tamlin and Kalussa. The slime smelled of death and rot, and Kalussa hoped it could not pass through her skin to infect her.

  The King slumped against the floor, his eyes closing. His breathing was better, but he still looked like a corpse, and he dripped with sweat.

  “The Sword,” said Kalussa, looking around. “Where is the Sword? He needs it. If he’s holding the Sword, it will help to heal him.”

  “There!” said Tamlin, pointing. He got to his feet, picked up the Sword of Fire by its scabbard, and carried the weapon to the King. Tamlin laid the blade on Hektor’s chest, and Kalussa grasped her father’s hands and placed them on the crimson hilt. His fingers tightened against the sword, and Hektor took a ragged breath.

  “The Sword of Fire,” said Sir Arminios. “I saw Prince Rypheus rip it from the King’s belt.”

  “I feared the Sword’s magic would enhance the poison,” said Rypheus.

  “Then you admit there was poison?” said Kalussa, glaring at him.

  She was angry, but she was also shaken to the core of her being. All her life, she had looked up to Rypheus Pendragon, the dashing knight and prince who would follow after her father. For him to have done this monstrous thing…she could not comprehend it.

  “Of course, there was poison,” said Rypheus, gesturing at the slime spattered over her. “You must have slipped it into his cup, and arranged this ludicrous game to…”

  “In the goblet you carried to him with your own hands?” said Tamlin.

  “Rypheus,” said Adrastea, her voice full of anguish. “Why? Your father loved you. Why poison him?”

  “I did not poison him,” said Rypheus. “I…”

  Kalussa scoffed with disdain, looking back at her father.

  And her contempt seemed to break Rypheus’s control.

  Rypheus’s smile vanished, his calm evaporating. Once again it was like watching a mask come off. Fury and loathing and hatred filled his expression, distorting his face into something almost inhuman, and Kalussa flinched despite herself.

  “At last,” said Rypheus. “How I have wearied of lies.”

  “Why?” said Adrastea, horrified. “Why do this?”

  A stunned silence had fallen over the great hall, every eye on the dais. Kalussa hoped someone had gone to find Calliande. Hektor’s breathing was better. The Sword of Fire’s power would help to heal him, but Kalussa knew its magic would not be as effective as Calliande’s healing spell.

  “Because he was a fool,” spat Rypheus. “A proud, blind fool, too weak to do what had to be done to save Owyllain.”

  “And you were strong enough, I assume?” said Tamlin. He drew his sword and pointed it at the Crown Prince, lightning starting to crackle around his free hand.

  “I was strong enough,” said Rypheus, “to see the truth of the New God. Behold!”

  He reached into his tunic and yanked out a medallion of strange dark metal. Its surface had been adorned with…

  Kalussa flinched, fresh dread flooding through her.

  The medallion had been adorned with the symbol of a double ring pierced by seven spikes, the same symbol that Ridmark had seen in the ruins below the city.

  She remembered again her conversation with Ridmark on the balcony, remembered him speaking of danger they had not yet seen, some foe lurking in the shadows that connected the New God and the Seven Swords and the Maledicti.

  In that horrible instant, Kalussa understood Ridmark’s fear far better than she had ever wanted.

  “Do you not yet see?” said Rypheus, his eyes glittering with hate. “The New God rises. All shall bow before it. Nothing can stop its coming! Every battle our father fought, every victory, only hastened its arrival.” He swept the medallion before him, glaring at his father’s court. “You all shall bow before the New God, those of you who survive! I shall…”

  “Cease this blasphemy!” thundered Tertius. “You have abandoned God and reason for madness, Rypheus.”

  “Enough,” said Sir Tramond. “His guilt is clear. Let us hold him in custody until King Hektor awakes. The King can decide what is to be done with this traitor.”

  Rypheus laughed, the mad glitter in his eyes sharpening. “You think you can stop me, old fool?”

  Tramond snorted. “I might not be able to, but you are surrounded by the best warriors and the most powerful Arcanii in the realm, Rypheus. I doubt you can fight all of them.”

  “Are you so certain of that, old man?” said Rypheus.

  “Men of Owyllain,” said Tramond. Several knights and Arcanii stepped forward. “Take Prince Rypheus into custody and hold him secure.”

  Rypheus laughed again…and the medallion in his hand began to burn with black flames. A cold chill washed over Kalussa, partly from her fear, and partly from the dark magic radiating from the medallion.

  “Still you fail to see!” said Rypheus. “The New God has not yet risen, but its power has been cast backward through time in herald of its advent! You shall see the power of the New God with your own eyes.”

  Now a dozen Arcanii stood in a ring around the dais, holding spells and swords ready.

  “In the name of God, Rypheus!” said Tertius. “Have you abandoned all sanity to wield dark magic in the very heart of Aenesium?”

  “Even with dark magic,” said Tramond, “you cannot hope to defeat us by yourself.”

  Rypheus grinned. “Who said I’m by myself?”

  He looked up, and Kalussa screamed before she could stop herself.

  The balconies over the great hall had been closed off for the banquet, and she hadn’t thought to look in that direction for some time. But now she saw figures milling there, hundreds of hideous, misshapen figures, their skins ripped from their flesh, their eyes glowing with yellow fire, slime dripping from their bloody limbs.

  Abscondamni. Hundreds of abscondamni. Some of them had crawled up the pillars during the confrontation and were clinging to the ceiling like glistening spiders.

  “Kill them!” said Rypheus. “Kill in the name of the New God!”

  The abscondamni leaped from the balconies and dropped from the ceiling, and the killing began.

  Kalussa snarled and cast a spell, hurling a sphere of flames at the murderou
s Crown Prince, but Rypheus leaped back.

  Then the abscondamni charged towards her, and Kalussa fought for her life.

  ###

  Rypheus took several steps towards the wall, the Sign of the New God clutched in his left hand, his sword in his right. The dark magic from the Sign surged through him, filling him with strength, but he didn’t need it.

  The abscondamni would do the killing for him. A guard of them formed around him, protecting him from the Arcanii. Not that it mattered, since the Arcanii were battling against the Accursed.

  He watched as the carnage began, screams and shouts filling the hall as the abscondamni rampaged through the guests, and a wide smile spread across his face. At last, at long last. The heart of the realm would be ripped out. Rypheus would take the Sword of Fire, and the advent of the New God would be that much closer.

  A flicker of color caught his eye, and he turned.

  Adrastea stood a few steps away, staring at him, her expression filled with horror. She had been caught on the wrong side of the abscondamni when they had dropped from the ceiling.

  “Oh,” said Rypheus. “But the New God is gracious. It has not yet arisen, but already it blesses me.”

  “Rypheus,” said Adrastea, “it’s not too late. You can still stop this. If you keep on this path, you will be destroyed. You can still save…”

  He stepped forward and drove his sword into her belly, into this whore who had presumed to take his mother’s place. Her eyes went wide with agony, and he savored the expression like the finest wine.

  “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” said Rypheus, “you loathsome harlot.”

  He ripped his sword free, opened her throat, and sent her corpse to lie in its own blood upon the floor.

  Perhaps Hektor Pendragon would live long enough to see the consequences of his folly.

  Rypheus laughed and turned back to watch the carnage, a smile on his face and the Sign burning in his left hand.

  ***

  Chapter 19: Lightning & Fire

  Khurazalin stood on the balcony, watching the carnage unfold in the great hall.

  No one could see him, not even Rypheus. The spell he had used concealed his presence from human eyes, though the Keeper could use her Sight to pierce the spell.

  Not that it mattered. When the moment came to strike, Khurazalin intended to rid himself of the Keeper and the Shield Knight and King Hektor of Owyllain in one blow.

  He watched the fighting with interest. Rypheus Pendragon, he feared, was a flawed instrument. The young man was a boiling cauldron of wounded pride and seething hatred and burning contempt for his father. Telling him about the coming of the New God, telling him that he was one of those chosen to receive the New God’s wisdom, had been like throwing a lit torch into a pool of oil.

  The results were explosive.

  Khurazalin was curious to see if Rypheus would live out the night.

  Well, no matter. Either way, the purpose of the New God would be advanced. If Rypheus survived, he would claim the Sword of Fire and would have no choice but to submit to Justin Cyros. Two of the Swords would be united, and the advent of the New God would be all the closer. If Rypheus was slain, Aenesium would be crippled with its King dead, and Justin Cyros would easily conquer the city and bring nearly all of Owyllain under his control.

  Either way, the advent of the New God would be hastened.

  No matter what happened tonight, Khurazalin would prevail.

  The only thing that could go wrong was the Shield Knight and the Keeper of Andomhaim.

  Khurazalin had not always told Rypheus the entire truth, but he had not lied when he said that Ridmark and Calliande were dangerous. If they realized what was happening, they could derail the plan. Rypheus had the dark magic of the Sign and a small army of abscondamni, but the Shield Knight and the Keeper would be a match for them.

  Of course, Khurazalin was ready for their interference.

  The Staff of Blades would ensure that.

  During the Sovereign’s long wars against the gray elves and the xiatami and the Takai nomads, many champions had stepped forth to challenge the Sovereign in hopes of killing their conqueror. The Sovereign had slain them all, and the Staff of Blades had been one of his favorite weapons for disposing of would-be heroes.

  At least until Kothlaric Pendragon had slain the Sovereign below the gates of Urd Maelwyn.

  Khurazalin’s face was undead flesh and no longer responded to his will, but if he had been capable of it, he would have smiled.

  The world would behold the truth of the New God soon enough, and it would tremble.

  But until then, there was work to do.

  Khurazalin waited, watching the abscondamni rampage through the great hall.

  ###

  Tamlin almost died in the first frantic instants of the fighting.

  The abscondamni dropped from the ceiling like bloody raindrops, and one of them nearly hit him. Tamlin jerked back, and the abscondamnius pursued him, reaching for his face with bloody, dripping fingers. On reflex, Tamlin stabbed, and his blade sank home into the creature’s chest. The acidic slime coating the abscondamni could eat through bronze and stone, but the steel of the dark elves was impervious to its touch. Tamlin ripped his sword free and stepped back, and the abscondamnius fell in silence, the yellow fire in its eyes winking out.

  As it did, Tamlin noticed the row of burning spines jutting from its forearms, like blades strapped to the flesh. All the abscondamni had them. Even as he stepped back, preparing himself for the next attack, he noticed that the abscondamni fought with greater skill than the ones he had faced at his domus and in Cathair Valwyn, using those bony spines to parry and deflect attacks.

  That was bad.

  Two more abscondamni rushed at him, and Tamlin had to defend himself. He had laughed a little at Ridmark for wearing armor to the King’s banquet, but now Tamlin cursed himself as a fool for not wearing his own armor. Bronze would at least slow the acidic touch of the creatures. Better to burn his armor than his skin.

  Tamlin’s hips bumped against the high table. He had run out of room to retreat, but he had gathered power for a spell. He raked his left hand before him, and arcs of lightning leaped from his fingers to coil around the two abscondamni. The creatures reared back with furious hisses, smoke rising from their limbs. Tamlin hadn’t hit them with enough force to kill them, but the lightning stunned the creatures long enough for Tamlin recover his balance and strike back.

  His blue sword blurred sideways, and he killed the abscondamnius on his left, sinking his blade halfway into its neck. Tamlin ripped his sword free and drew it back to strike, and the remaining abscondamnius reached for him.

  There was nowhere left to retreat, so he jumped backward, landing on the table. Goblets clattered and fell around his boots. The abscondamnius jumped after him. The wood beneath its glistening feet started to sizzle and hiss. Tamlin retreated a step, and the abscondamnius pursued him.

  Four more of the creatures rushed towards him, bloody fingers outstretched.

  ###

  Kalussa fought for her life, the magic of elemental flame burning through her.

  She stood over her prone father, fires crackling around her fingers. Her first thought had been to strike down Rypheus, to burn out the murderous traitor’s heart. But Rypheus had retreated behind a guard of his twisted abscondamni, and now the creatures rampaged through the great hall. Utter chaos ruled as men fought the abscondamni and died, or tried to get their wives and concubines to safety. Fire and ice and lightning ripped through the air as the Arcanii threw their powers into the attack. At least there were no children here.

  Kalussa barely noticed any of it.

  There were too many enemies around her.

  An abscondamnius charged at her, and Kalussa cast a spell. A sphere of harsh yellow-orange light whirled to life around her fingers, and she thrust out her hands with a yell. The blast burned through the creature’s forehead, turning the interior of its skull
to smoking char, and the abscondamnius topped and fell.

  Another came at Kalussa, and she attacked again, hitting it with all her strength. This time her spell burned through its chest and turned its heart to smoking ash, and the creature collapsed atop the first one.

  Frantic, she looked around for help but saw none at hand. The great hall had dissolved into a thousand individual battles. Kalussa could kill an abscondamnius with a single spell, but it took all her magical strength and focus to do it. She could not keep this pace up for long, and when her strength wavered, the abscondamni would kill her.

  And they would kill her father.

  Desperate, Kalussa fought on, flinging magical fire at every abscondamnius that drew near.

  ###

  Tamlin retreated along the high table, the abscondamni pursuing him, the table sizzling and starting to burn beneath the acidic slime coating their feet. He killed one of the abscondamni with a thrust from his sword and blasted another from the table with a bolt of lightning.

  Then the table shuddered beneath him, and Tamlin saw his chance.

  He feinted at the nearest creature, his blade blurring towards its face. The abscondamnius dodged the blow and lunged at him, and he leaped back. The lunge put all the abscondamnius’s weight upon its left foot, and it slapped hard against the table.

  That proved too much for the damaged wood, and the abscondamnius’s leg stabbed through the table, pinning the creature in place. Tamlin leaped off the table as it collapsed, the remaining abscondamni pinned in place by the wreckage.

  He killed them all before they broke free.

  For a moment, he stood in a clear space. Bloody chaos ruled around him, and for a moment Tamlin did not know what to do. In every direction, he saw battles, in every direction he saw comrades in need of aid, saw women fleeing from the burning touch of the abscondamni.