Sevenfold Sword

by Jonathan Moeller

  “I think some Arcanii are fighting the Accursed there,” said Calliande.

  Ridmark nodded. “Kyralion.”

  “We shall defeat them,” said the gray elf, lifting his sword. The lighting spell upon it shone to Calliande’s Sight.

  “Good man,” said Ridmark. “Calliande?”

  She nodded and started casting a spell, wishing that she had her staff. She had left it in Queen Adrastea’s dressing room, figuring that she wouldn’t need it tonight. Calliande did not require the ancient staff to use magic, but it did help when focusing spells, and she suspected she would have to do a great deal of rapid spell casting before the night was over.

  Ridmark and Kyralion hurried down the final set of stairs to the Agora, and Calliande followed them, her magic ready.

  A battle unfolded before them.

  Light spilled from the opened doors to the great hall, and the sounds of screams and fighting rose from the doors. In the light Calliande saw a mob of abscondamni, struggling against a row of Arcanius Knights who fought with sword and spell. She glimpsed Master Nicion Amphilus in their midst, his magic glowing with fury as he hurled blasts of fire or bolts of lightning.

  Six towering jotunmiri fought alongside the Arcanii, using their height and the swings of their mighty clubs to keep the abscondamni at bay. Their brutish faces were hard with battle fury, and Calliande spotted Earl Vimroghast in their midst. He wielded a tree-sized bronze-bound club as if it were no more than a willow branch, and every one of his blows sent an abscondamnius tumbling through the air.

  “Now!” said Ridmark.

  He and Kyralion raced forward, swords ready to strike, and Calliande unleashed her magic. A shaft of white fire stabbed from her hand and cut across the battle. It passed through the jotunmiri and the Arcanii without harm, but the abscondamni flinched and stumbled as the magic of the Well attacked the dark magic corrupting their flesh. The Accursed whirled to face the new foes, and Ridmark crashed into them, Oathshield flashing left and right as he swung and stabbed. Kyralion was a half-pace behind him, taking advantage of Ridmark’s attack to cut down the abscondamni.

  Vimroghast bellowed something in his native language, and Nicion shouted a command. The jotunmiri surged forward, hammering with their clubs, and the Arcanii loosed a volley of elemental spells. Ridmark tore through the abscondamni, and Calliande threw her magic into the fray.

  ###

  Ridmark ripped Oathshield free from the last abscondamnius and turned to face the jotunmiri and the Arcanius Knights. Calliande hurried to his side, white fire still glimmering around her fingers.

  “Lord Ridmark, Lady Calliande,” said Nicion. The Master looked exhausted, an acid burn on his left forearm, his face smudged with soot, but his eyes blazed like Oathshield’s fire. “Your arrival is most timely, but there is much fighting to be done.”

  “Thank God you’ve come,” said one of the Arcanii, a middle-aged man in bronze armor.

  Ridmark blinked. “Sir Parmenio? What’s going on?”

  “Prince Rypheus has gone mad,” said Parmenio. “I was sitting towards the back of the hall, so I couldn’t make out what happened. But King Hektor fell. Sir Tamlin accused Rypheus of poisoning him. There was some shouting…and Rypheus screamed that he would kill us all in the name of the New God. Then the abscondamni started dropping from the ceiling. I told my wife to run, and I started fighting, but I was driven into the Agora.”

  “I had not intended to attend the banquet, as I do not consume alcohol, lest it cloud my judgment,” said Nicion. “But I heard the sounds of fighting, and came at once, collecting what Arcanii I could on the way. Earl Vimroghast acted likewise.”

  “Indeed,” said Vimroghast in his melodic voice. “This act of vilest treachery must be answered at once.”

  “But Rypheus?” said Calliande. She sounded as stunned as Ridmark felt. Rypheus Pendragon had seemed like his father’s strong right hand, a worthy heir to the crown of Aenesium and perhaps the high kingship of Owyllain.

  But Ridmark had once thought Tarrabus Carhaine a loyal lord of Andomhaim, and he had been wrong about that, as well.

  “Perhaps he was corrupted by the Masked One,” said Nicion. “I always told Hektor he underestimated the Masked One.”

  “We can speculate later,” said Ridmark, looking at the confused melee in the great hall. “Right now, those men need our help. So, we’re going to kill the abscondamni and stop Prince Rypheus.”

  Nicion scowled. “Just like that?”

  Ridmark looked at him. “Do you have a better plan?”

  Nicion sighed. “Regrettably, no.”

  “Then follow me,” said Ridmark. “Arcanii, if you prefer fighting hand-to-hand, stay with me. If you would rather throw spells from a distance, stay close to Lady Calliande and protect her.”

  “Together our righteous blows,” announced Vimroghast, “shall cleanse the stain of wicked treachery from Owyllain.”

  “Let us hope you are right,” said Ridmark, and he strode towards the chaos in the great hall, lifting Oathshield before him.

  ***

  Chapter 21: Last Stand

  Tamlin’s shoulders ached, his arms throbbing with exhaustion and pain. He had kept any of the abscondamni from touching him, but some of the acid had spattered on his arms and chest. It had left small round burns on his arm, and the droplets had burned through his tunic to sting his chest.

  Another abscondamnius came at him. This one had once been a saurtyri, and bony spines had grown from the slimy muscles of its arms. Tamlin shifted his stance, slashing down with his sword. He took off the saurtyri’s right arm at the elbow, but wounds never seemed to slow the abscondamni. The creature kept coming, and Tamlin dodged, slashing his sword across its neck as he did so.

  The abscondamnius fell, but another rushed to take its place.

  Next to him fought Sir Aegeus, his chest working like a smith’s bellows, his dwarven axe rising and falling as he chopped and hacked. He had controlled his swings as promised, but perhaps that was because he was exhausted. His face had gone pale beneath its glistening sheen of sweat, and he had stopped hurling ice spikes into the enemy, instead conjuring his shield of ice. Tamlin hadn’t expected his friend to fight so well while drunk, but as Aegeus had said himself, fighting, drinking, and wenching were the only three things he really enjoyed.

  Behind them Kalussa threw bolts of fire at the abscondamni, stunning them long enough for either Tamlin or Aegeus to take them down. She, too, was reaching the limits of her strength. Sweat dripped down her face and stained her dress, and she was swaying on her feet. Tamlin knew firsthand the strain extended magic use put upon the body, and he could tell when someone was reaching their limits. Both Kalussa and Aegeus were nearing theirs.

  Come to think of it, so was Tamlin.

  Three abscondamni came in a rush, arms extended. Tamlin forced magical power through his growing exhaustion and cast a spell, arcs of lightning leaping from his left hand. The glowing blue-white arcs jumped across the three abscondamni, causing their exposed muscles to jerk and twitch. The abscondamni stumbled, and Tamlin slashed, his sword sinking deep into the neck of the Accursed on the left. He ripped his sword free, and Aegeus bellowed and brought his axe hammering down, burying it in the skull of the abscondamnius on the right.

  The final creature lunged at Tamlin, but he had not yet pulled his sword free from the first. He started to retract the blade, but it was too late.

  The glistening fingers reached for his throat.

  A bolt of fire slammed into the abscondamnius, rocking it back. Tamlin wrenched his sword loose and stabbed, plunging his blade home into the creature’s chest. The abscondamnius stiffened, the yellow fire in its empty eyes going dark, and collapsed to join the others on the floor.

  “Thanks,” croaked Tamlin, lifting his sword once more.

  Kalussa managed a nod, blinking sweat from her eyes. “You saved my life before. Only fair.”

  “Come on!” roared Aegeus, brandishing his axe
at the abscondamni upon the dais. “Is that all you got?”

  As it turned out, it was not.

  More abscondamni rushed forward, and Tamlin braced himself to face another wave of foes.

  As he did, he caught a glimpse of black fire behind them.

  ###

  Rypheus’s lip curled with contempt as he strode towards the three Arcanii.

  Throughout the hall, his abscondamni were winning, cutting down the knights and Companions and forcing them to flee. Yet on the dais, Tamlin, Kalussa, and Aegeus still held firm. That was annoying. Even more annoyingly, they stood guard over King Hektor, who was still alive.

  Well, Rypheus would rectify that shortly.

  He stepped forward, and Kalussa and Tamlin saw him. Rypheus noted with amusement the rage that went over their faces. They were loyal to the wretch lying on the ground behind them with the Sword of Fire on his chest. Could they not see Hektor for the loathsome fool that he really was?

  He was even more amused to see both Kalussa and Tamlin starting spells, preparing to hurl a volley of elemental magic at him. Could they not yet understand the power of the New God?

  Well, Rypheus would teach them.

  He lifted the Sign in his left hand and called upon its power.

  ###

  Tamlin saw Prince Rypheus striding towards them, sword in his right hand, that strange black amulet in his left.

  Something about the Prince looked…wrong, twisted. The symbol of the New God burned with black fire in his left hand, and some of that black fire had sunk into his flesh. His skin had taken a grayish, corpselike cast, and an eerie blue glow shone in his dark eyes. The teachers of the Arcanii said that using dark magic sometimes caused mutations in its wielders, and Tamlin had seen firsthand evidence of that in Urd Maelwyn. Often the high priests of the Maledicti had not been particularly sane.

  That same madness seemed to burn on the Prince’s face now.

  “You murderous cur!” said Kalussa, her weariness falling away beneath her rage. “To lift your hand against your own blood.”

  Rypheus laughed at her, the sound heavy with contempt.

  “How many women did you kill today, Rypheus?” said Tamlin. “How many children?”

  “Oath-breaking dog,” spat Aegeus. “Come closer and see if that magic medallion saves you from my axe!”

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” said Rypheus, “stupid as you are. The coming of the New God shall undo all oaths, break all covenants, shatter all laws.”

  Kalussa sneered. “It just as well that Queen Helen died when she did. Else she would have been horrified to hear you spouting such foolish nonsense. Perhaps she would curse the day that you were born…”

  Tamlin had long ago decided that Kalussa had a knack for insults, and that was proved right once again. A shudder of rage went through Rypheus, the blue light in his eyes brightening, and he lifted the amulet in his left hand.

  “Then die,” he snarled. “Die, and…”

  Tamlin, Kalussa, and Aegeus all struck at once. Tamlin cast a lightning bolt, throwing every scrap of power he could muster into the spell. Kalussa flung another one of her searing blasts of magical flame, and Aegeus hurled a spear of ice at the traitorous Prince. The combined volley of magical power would have been enough to kill any man, would have even been enough to kill an urvaalg on the spot.

  It did nothing against Rypheus.

  The black fire around the medallion darkened as Rypheus lifted it, and the shadow fire around the metal disc seemed to drink their spells. Tamlin’s lightning and Kalussa’s fire were sucked into it and extinguished. Aegeus’s spike of ice touched the dark fire and shattered into glittering dust.

  “Is that all?” snarled Rypheus. “My turn.”

  He thrust the amulet, and blasts of blue fire leaped from the medallion.

  Tamlin cast a warding spell, a protection designed to shield him from magical attack.

  Rypheus’s power tore through the spell like wet paper.

  Tamlin screamed as agony flooded through him, and he stumbled and fell to one knee, his muscles trembling and jerking. He heard Kalussa shriek and Aegeus let out a long groan, and he heard the clang as the axe fell from Aegeus’s shaking hand. Tamlin tried to fight the spell, tried to stand up, tried to summon magic to throw another lightning bolt at Rypheus. He had endured pain before, had suffered whippings and beatings in Urd Maelwyn. One flogging had been so bad it had almost killed him, and he knew how to struggle through the pain.

  But this agony was overpowering.

  It took all of Tamlin’s strength to stay on one knee, to keep from falling over. He managed to look to the side and saw Kalussa collapsed next to her father, saw Aegeus on his hands and knees.

  Rypheus stalked towards them, a dozen abscondamni trailing after him, a sword in his hand and murder on his face.

  ###

  The Sign of the New God burned colder in Rypheus’s fist.

  The little harlot. How dare she. How dare she! The impudent girl was not fit to even speak his mother’s name, let alone to throw her death in Rypheus’s face like that.

  She would die first, Rypheus decided. No, better. He would kill Hektor first and make her watch. Then he would kill all three of them, slowly and painfully. Then he would…

  A flicker of light caught his eye.

  Rypheus frowned and looked over the great hall.

  The battle continued, but his abscondamni were winning, and soon they would have driven the knights and the Arcanii from Palace. Then, Rypheus decided, he would take the Sword of Fire and lay waste to Aenesium before he presented the Sword to Khurazalin. He wanted the satisfaction of seeing the city in flames, of seeing its smug, stupid people burn at his will.

  Then that flash of light came to his eye again, jerking him out of his musings.

  A group of jotunmiri battled their way into the great hall, Earl Vimroghast at their heads. A dozen Arcanii came with them, and to judge from the intensity of the bolts of fire that stabbed into the abscondamni, Nicion Amphilus himself led them, and with them came…

  A shiver of fear and anticipation went through Rypheus.

  The Shield Knight and the Keeper came with them.

  The Keeper flung a shaft of white fire that slashed through the abscondamni, shattering the dark magic upon them and throwing three of them to the floor. But the Shield Knight was far more effective. He tore into the abscondamni, his burning sword rising and falling, killing one of the Accursed with every step that he took.

  And the light from his sword…

  Rypheus flinched.

  The light hurt his eyes.

  It hadn’t the first time at Tamlin’s domus. Rypheus wondered what had changed. Perhaps the dark magic of the Sign had altered his vision.

  A chill went through him.

  The Shield Knight and the Keeper were coming for him. That terrible burning sword was coming for him.

  The chill turned to glee.

  Let them come! They, too, would see the power of the New God.

  ###

  Kalussa would have screamed, but she was in too much pain and was having trouble breathing. The dark magic filled her with wave after wave of agony, and she could not stand, could not fight, could not even think.

  This was how she would die, murdered by her mad half-brother, a man she had always admired. Regret flooded through her and mixed with the agony. Kalussa would never have children, would never prove herself worthy of her royal blood and magical power.

  Instead, Rypheus would slaughter her like a pig and bring Owyllain crashing into ruin.

  Kalussa braced herself for the end, praying for the Dominus Christus to forgive her sins and accept her soul.

  The pain winked out.

  Was she dead?

  No, she could still feel the beat of her heart.

  Kalussa scrambled to her feet as Tamlin and Aegeus did the same. Rypheus had withdrawn from the dais, accompanied by his abscondamni guards. Where was he going?

  White
light flashed before her eyes, and she saw a new battle starting on the far side of the great hall.

  A man in blue armor and a gray cloak strode into the great hall of the Palace of the High Kings, a sword of white fire in his right hand, and next to him came a blond woman in red with white fire burning around her fingers.

  Hope flooded through Kalussa.

  The Shield Knight and the Keeper had come at last.

  ***

  Chapter 22: Fury

  Ridmark looked over the chaos and carnage in the great hall.

  The dead were everywhere. Men lay sprawled on the polished floor, their bodies burned from the acidic touch of the abscondamni, far more men than Ridmark would have wished. He also saw women lying motionless on the floor, and his fingers tightened against Oathshield’s hilt.

  It seemed Rypheus’s wrath had been indiscriminate.

  He would regret that before Ridmark was done with him.

  Many more men were still on their feet and fighting, holding against the abscondamni. Small bands had formed under the command of Companion knights and Arcanii. Ridmark spotted Sir Tramond commanding one, Sir Arminios leading another, and bushy-bearded Sir Jolcus leading still a third. A pity that Sir Jolcus had not brought any of this trisalians to the banquet. They would have been useful just now.

  The men of Owyllain were not yet beaten.

  “This isn’t over until we find Rypheus,” said Ridmark, “and one of the Maledicti, if they’re here with him. We’ll have to kill every single one of the abscondamni.”

  “What do you suggest?” said Nicion.

  Some of the abscondamni turned in their direction.