Sevenfold Sword

by Jonathan Moeller

  Everywhere he looked, he saw corpses.

  Someone had to take command of the battle. There were a thousand individual fights in the great hall, but the abscondamni were winning most of them. If someone did not take command and start fighting back, the abscondamni would overwhelm the knights and hoplites and Arcanii one by one.

  A woman screamed in rage, and a flash of fire caught Tamlin’s eye.

  His head snapped to the side, and he saw Kalussa standing over the prone form of her father, fire blazing around her fingers and crawling up her arms. A ring of smoldering abscondamni lay on the ground around her, and even as he looked, Kalussa slew another of the creatures, her magic blasting a smoking crater through its chest.

  She grimaced, wavered on her feet, and fell to one knee, breathing hard. She had used too much magical power in too short a time, and the exhaustion was catching up to her.

  The abscondamni closed around her for the kill.

  Tamlin sprinted forward, called on his magical power, and jumped.

  The magic of elemental air drove him forward and lifted him in a blurring leap, and the jump carried him ten yards in a single bound. Tamlin hurtled towards the ground, and Kalussa looked at him in sudden surprise.

  The abscondamni did not, though, which meant they did not see him until his sword came down in a blur and took off an Accursed’s head in a single blow. Black slime spurted from the ragged stump of the neck, and Tamlin went on the attack, using his momentum to carry him forward.

  He cut down two more of the abscondamni, and Kalussa recovered her breath, getting back to her feet.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Tamlin inclined his head, looking for more enemies.

  “We need to get my father away from here,” said Kalussa.

  “Aye,” said Tamlin. “I’d welcome any ideas on…here they come!”

  Another group of abscondamni rushed towards them, and once more Tamlin fought for his life.

  ###

  Kalussa changed her tactics. Tamlin was masterful with a blade, the kind of swordsman who could use any opening to take down an opponent. Kalussa gave him those openings, hurling bolts of fire at the waves of attacking creatures. She didn’t put nearly enough power into the spells to kill, but that wasn’t necessary. Her blasts of fire staggered the abscondamni, giving Tamlin the opening he needed to take them down. Whenever he got a chance, he cast a spell, hurling arcs of lightning into the attacking abscondamni. Like Kalussa’s magic, his spell only stunned the Accursed, but that was long enough for him to cut them down.

  Yet Kalussa was tired. Sweat glistened on Tamlin’s face, his tunic sticking to his back and chest. Kalussa had never fought a battle or tried to use magic after drinking a large quantity of wine, and she couldn’t imagine it was a pleasant experience.

  All it would take was for the abscondamni to wound either of them and then the battle would be over. Kalussa threw another blast of fire into an abscondamnius, and Tamlin cut it down. God and the saints, how many abscondamni had Rypheus brought with him? She had seen hundreds of the creatures, some that looked human, and some that looked like they had once been saurtyri. The sight of a skinless saurtyri, its body dripping with acidic slime, had been horrible. Likely Rypheus had transformed his own saurtyri servants into abscondamni. It was a terrible thought – the saurtyri could not even fight back as humans could.

  She had never hated anyone as she hated Prince Rypheus.

  Even if she died here, Kalussa hoped that she got the chance to burn him before the killing blow fell.

  More abscondamni rushed towards them.

  A man’s voice bellowed over the roar of the melee, and a spike of ice hurtled through the air and stabbed into the nearest creature. The abscondamnius stumbled and went limp, and Sir Aegeus rushed to their side, wild rage on his face, that bronze-colored dwarven axe in his hands.

  “Ha!” he said, taking off the head of a creature with a two-handed blow. “And you and Shield Knight said I couldn’t control my swings!” He killed another abscondamnius. Like Tamlin’s sword, the axe seemed impervious to the acidic slime. “What do you think of that, eh?”

  “At least the Accursed will give you plenty of practice!” said Tamlin.

  “I think,” said Kalussa, “that this is the first time I’ve ever been glad to see you, you drunken oaf!”

  Aegeus laughed, killing another abscondamnius. “See? Not even Lady Kalussa can resist my charm!”

  They battled on, more abscondamni rushing for them.

  ###

  Rypheus watched the battle, his sword in his right hand, the Sign clenched in his left.

  He was winning. His abscondamni rampaged through the great hall, killing and killing. Pockets of resistance had formed, but they were being overwhelmed. Rypheus had originally planned to lay the blame for his father’s death and the attack on the Shield Knight and the Keeper, but everyone had just seen him take credit for it and announce his allegiance to the New God. Though he might be able to kill all the witnesses, someone would no doubt get away.

  Oh, well. Rypheus supposed he would just have to rip the heart from Aenesium instead. Let Justin Cyros take the city and fight to defend it from the Confessor’s gathering armies. Rypheus would laugh as the Confessor and King Justin bled each other dry, and he would laugh when the New God rose in power and broke them both.

  Something caught his eye, and his mirth cooled.

  Tamlin Thunderbolt, Sir Aegeus, and Kalussa had gathered over his father’s prone form, battling the abscondamni upon the dais. The three of them were fighting well, but that wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, they would be overwhelmed, and they would die.

  But if they held out long enough…

  Rypheus still didn’t know where the Shield Knight and the Keeper were. He had been certain that they would be here. Where had they gone? Perhaps he had been lucky, and the abscondamni had surprised and killed them both before they could bring their powerful weapons to bear.

  Chance ruled the world, but Rypheus wasn’t foolish enough to think he was that lucky.

  And if the Keeper was still alive, and if she reached Hektor, her healing magic might still save him.

  All at once, the obvious solution occurred to Rypheus.

  He had poisoned his father, true, but he had just admitted that in front of the knights and nobles of Owyllain. Why bother with poison? Why not just cut Hektor’s throat as he lay unconscious? Not even the Keeper could heal that.

  And Rypheus would have the distinct pleasure of killing that bitch Kalussa, that sot Aegeus, and that preening fool Tamlin with his own hands.

  “Come,” said Rypheus.

  His abscondamni guards followed him as he strode towards the three Arcanii, the Sign burning with black fire in his left hand.

  ***

  Chapter 20: Interlopers

  “You need to wake up,” said Morigna.

  The dream was odd, hazy. Ridmark thought he stood in a vast domed chamber of white stone, shafts of sunlight stabbing through gaps in the crumbling ceiling. A stone well dominated the central third of the floor, and heaps of rubble lay around him.

  He had never seen this place before, but it seemed important, so important.

  “You need to wake up right now,” said Morigna.

  Ridmark blinked and turned his head.

  Morigna stood a few paces away, looking just as she had on the day that Imaria had murdered her nine years ago. She wore the same wool and leather, the same cloak of tattered brown and green strips, the carved staff in her hand. Her black eyes regarded him without blinking, and her face was tight with urgency and alarm.

  “You’re dead,” said Ridmark, trying to think through his confusion. “Nine years. You died nine years ago. Your spirit helped me against the Frostborn, but you moved on.”

  “I did,” said Morigna. “But that is not important right now. You need to wake up.” She almost smiled. “You passed the test, you know. And I am very pleased that you and the Keeper have…
reconnected with such vigor, let us say.” The smile turned solemn again. “But you need to wake up. You must wake up. If you do not…”

  “Ridmark!”

  Ridmark blinked awake.

  For an instant, confusion gripped him as the dream slipped from his memory. He was lying naked on his back, cool grass against his skin, the stars and the moons shining overhead. Why was he sleeping outside?

  He sat up, turning his head, and saw Calliande sitting next to him, her slim form painted silver in the moonlight. She wore nothing except some jewels, her hair disheveled and her makeup smeared with sweat. Then the memory came back, and Ridmark smiled. How long had he been asleep? Long enough to recover his strength for a third time? Ridmark wasn’t sure, but he was willing to find out…

  He saw Calliande’s expression. It was tight with alarm. Ridmark looked around the garden, half-expecting to see foes. Then he heard the distant sound of swords ringing and men shouting and women screaming, along with the crackle and snarl of magical spells.

  “Someone’s attacking the banquet,” said Calliande.

  “What?” said Ridmark, his mind snapping into focus through the fog of sleep. “Who?”

  “I don’t know,” said Calliande, “but the Sight…Ridmark, it’s more abscondamni. Hundreds of them. They’ll need our help.”

  Ridmark got to his feet, his back and knees informing him that he was really too old to sleep on the ground. Or to do other activities on the ground, for that matter. He held out his hand, Calliande grasped it, and he pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She looked beautiful in the mingled light of the moons. He wanted to draw her close and kiss her again, but if the abscondamni were loose in the Palace…

  “The children,” said Ridmark, a darker thought occurring to him. “Are the abscondamni going after them?”

  Calliande shook her head. “I don’t think so. The abscondamni are converging on the Palace. The entire leadership of Aenesium is gathered in that great hall. I think Qazaldhar must have returned and is trying to wipe out King Hektor and his men in one blow.”

  Ridmark grimaced. “Not if I have anything to say about it. We had better get dressed.”

  They retrieved their clothes in haste, Ridmark pulling on his armor and his sword belt. It took Calliande much less time to get dressed simply because the reunion dress didn’t cover very much. She scowled as she fiddled with the band of red silk that wound around her chest.

  “If I breathe too deeply I’m going to pop right out of this,” she said. “I’ll be like one of the ancient Celts on Old Earth, charging naked into battle.”

  “Here,” said Ridmark, tossing her his tunic. With his armor and his gambeson, the tunic was just extra weight. Calliande flashed him a grateful smile and pulled on the tunic. It hung off her shoulders like a cloak, the hem dangling almost to her knees. “It was a beautiful dress, though.”

  Her smile widened, her alarm momentarily forgotten. “Do you think so? Well, I know you thought so. You certainly proved it to…”

  Her head snapped around, her eyes narrowing, and white fire started to glow around her fingers.

  “They’re coming,” said Calliande.

  Ridmark yanked Oathshield from its scabbard, lifting the soulblade. At once the blue blade burst into harsh white fire, the sword’s anger filling his mind. Creatures of dark magic were drawing close. He looked around the garden, gauging the position of the trees and bushes. They were behind a row of low bushes, and smaller bushes and trees were scattered around the garden.

  He stepped past the row of bushes, and yellow fire glimmered in the night.

  A half-dozen abscondamni rushed into the garden, the grass smoking and dying beneath their bloody feet.

  These Accursed looked different from the ones that he and Calliande had fought in Cathair Valwyn. Those abscondamni looked as if they had been created from orcs. These creatures looked as if they had been made from humans, and there were smaller, lumpier ones that Ridmark thought had been saurtyri. For that matter, the abscondamni sported bony spikes that jutted from their forearms like daggers. It reminded Ridmark of the natural bone armor of the Anathgrimm orcs of Nightmane Forest. The dark elven lord called the Traveler had engineered those orcs, mutating them to grow bony armor over their flesh.

  Ridmark just had time to wonder if someone had created these abscondamni within the walls of Aenesium, and then the creatures were on him.

  Two of them reached for him, and Ridmark dodged, Oathshield’s speed letting him stay ahead of their grasp. He slashed the soulblade, and it ripped through the nearest abscondamnius’s chest like a hot knife through butter, the corrupted flesh burning and sizzling as it touched Oathshield. The abscondamnius fell, and Ridmark killed a second, his sword tearing through its neck.

  Calliande cast her spell, thrusting out her palms. A shaft of white fire leaped from her hands and slashed across two of the abscondamni, killing them both. The creatures collapsed, leaving only two standing, and they were far apart from each other. Ridmark killed one with a quick lunge, yanked Oathshield free, and turned to meet the final creature as it charged him.

  A few heartbeats later the abscondamnius joined the others upon the ground.

  Ridmark looked back at Calliande, but she was frowning at the dead creatures.

  “These ones look different,” said Calliande. “And their auras are different…I think they were created recently.”

  “How recently?” said Ridmark.

  Her eyes met his. “This morning, probably.”

  “God and the saints,” said Ridmark. He beckoned, and she hurried to his side as they left the garden. “One of the Maledicti must be in the city. Maybe that rat Khurazalin, or perhaps Qazaldhar came back. They knew Hektor and all his Companions and knights would be at the banquet, so they created the abscondamni to kill them.”

  “I don’t know,” said Calliande. They hurried down a flight of stairs to a lower terrace. The sounds of fighting became louder as they drew closer. “Hektor could probably destroy a small army of abscondamni with the Sword of Fire.”

  “Maybe the Maledicti found a way to neutralize him,” said Ridmark. “Poison, perhaps. Or a knife in the back. Can’t defend against a blow that you don’t see coming.”

  “No,” said Calliande. “We…”

  She fell silent, and further down the terrace, Ridmark saw a flash of harsh blue-white light, like a lightning bolt in the night.

  “It’s Kyralion,” said Calliande. “He’s fighting the abscondamni!”

  Ridmark broke into a run, Calliande right behind him.

  The battle came into sight. Ridmark saw Kyralion, his lightning-wreathed sword in his right hand. Five abscondamni surrounded him, the slime dripping off their limbs and sizzling against the ground. One of the Accursed lunged at him, and Kyralion dodged with fluid grace. His sword flickered up, and then down, and one of the abscondamni reeled back, stunned by the lightning of his sword. Kyralion stabbed, killing the abscondamnius with a quick thrust to the throat, and he leaped back, staying ahead of the other creatures.

  But he was still surrounded, and Ridmark saw three more abscondamni running to join the fray.

  He sprinted forward, the soulblade burning hotter in his fists. The abscondamni started to turn as they saw the new threat, but it was too late. Ridmark swung the sword, all his strength and the soulblade’s power driving his blow, and took off the head of an abscondamnius. The headless body staggered and fell off the side of the terrace, and Kyralion seized the moment to kill another creature. A blast of Calliande’s white fire took down two more Accursed, and Ridmark and Kyralion turned to face the three approaching abscondamni.

  Together they made short work of the creatures, and Ridmark lowered his sword, looking for enemies.

  “Lord Ridmark and Lady Calliande.” Kyralion made his awkward, stiff bow. “I am very, very glad to see you. Especially as I thought I was about to die and leave my charge from the Augurs unfulfilled.”

  “What is happening, Ky
ralion?” said Calliande.

  “I do not know,” said Kyralion. “I walked alone in the gardens, for as I stated earlier, I found them soothing. Then I heard noise coming from the great hall. Men shouted that King Hektor had been poisoned.” Ridmark shared a look with Calliande. “If the King had been poisoned, I realized that Lady Calliande’s healing magic would prove necessary. I had seen you go alone into the western gardens earlier,” Ridmark hoped that the gray elf had stopped watching after that, “and I headed in that direction. I was attacked by abscondamni before I found you, and would have been overwhelmed had you not intervened.”

  “Did you see any urvaalgs?” said Ridmark. The abscondamni were bad enough. But urvaalgs were far more dangerous, and far more resistant to the elemental magic that the Arcanii wielded.

  “I did not,” said Kyralion. “I suggest we hasten.”

  “Agreed,” said Ridmark, and they resumed their run through the terraces of the Palace. Ridmark hastened down another broad flight of stairs. He wished he knew more about the Palace’s layout. Surely there was a better way to reach the great hall instead of circling the Palace until they came to the double doors overlooking the Agora of Connmar, but Ridmark dared not waste time getting lost inside the Palace. He saw the dome of the Great Cathedral ahead, illuminated by both its own lights and the glow of the moons.

  The sounds of fighting came from the Agora, and even as Ridmark looked, a fireball bloomed in the darkness of the square.

  ###

  Calliande called on the Sight, sending it sweeping before her.

  She saw a powerful elemental aura in the Agora, surrounded by dozens of darker auras from the abscondamni. If the fighting had begun in the great hall, it seemed to have spilled into the Agora by now. There was a flash of light and a boom, and the light of a fiery explosion illuminated the square for an instant. In that light, Calliande saw the glint of bronze armor and the glistening, skinless bodies of the abscondamni.