“I’ll find Rypheus and stop him,” said Ridmark.
“And the rest of us,” said Calliande, her voice the iron of the Keeper commanding men in battle, “are going to stop the abscondamni.”
She began casting another spell, the white flames around her hands growing brighter. Ridmark had seen her use that spell many times before. She would augment the weapons of their allies, making them stronger against creatures of dark magic.
“Follow me,” said Ridmark, and he lifted Oathshield.
A mob of abscondamni charged towards them and Ridmark ran to meet the creatures.
Calliande shouted and cast her spell, making a chopping motion with her hands. The white fire exploded from her fingers and leaped to sheathe the swords and clubs of the Arcanii and jotunmiri. Ridmark attacked the Accursed, hammering with Oathshield. His blade tore open one abscondamnius from throat to groin, sending the creature and its corrupted innards spilling to the floor. A shorter abscondamnius that must have been a saurtyri attacked him, and he twisted around, taking off its head with a single chop. A third abscondamnius reached for him, slashing with the bony blades jutting from its forearms, and Ridmark dispatched the Accursed with a thrust through the heart. As the other creatures closed around him, Calliande struck even as she held the spell around the weapons in place. Bursts of white fire struck creature after creature.
Ridmark killed another Accursed, using Oathshield’s speed to stay ahead of their grasping reach, and then the Arcanii and the jotunmiri joined him. Some of the Arcanii fought hand to hand as Tamlin and Aegeus did, using short bursts of magic to stun their foes or to wrap their swords in elemental force. Others fought as Kalussa did and hurled bolts of fire and shards of lightning. Nicion stood with Calliande, and the Master of the Order of the Arcanii unleashed magical power. He wasn’t Calliande’s match, but he was still a powerful wizard, unleashing volleys of elemental fire and storms of elemental ice.
The jotunmiri simply smashed their way through the creatures, swinging their clubs with terrific force as they bellowed out a song in their own language. Vimroghast hit one abscondamnius with enough vigor that the creature tumbled head over heels and smashed into a pillar.
That made a mess. Ridmark was glad the jotunmiri were on their side.
A shiver went through the battle, and the momentum began to change. The men of Owyllain yelled and threw themselves at their foes with new vigor, forcing back the abscondamni.
“To me!” roared Ridmark, cutting down another creature. “To me, men of Owyllain! To me!”
He battled on, seeking for Prince Rypheus.
###
The agony faded, and as Tamlin got to his feet, he saw a sight that filled him with new hope.
Jotunmiri and Arcanius Knights fought their way into the hall, spell and club and bronze blades dealing death with every step. That was heartening enough, but at their head fought Ridmark Arban, while Calliande hung back with the Arcanii. The soulblade burned in Ridmark’s hands as he cut down the abscondamni, and while Calliande wore a man’s tunic over her reunion dress (which looked odd), it did not slow her magic. The clubs of the jotunmiri and the blades of the Arcanii shone with the power of her magic, and she still had strength enough to cast spells at the abscondamni, her white fire setting them aflame.
“To me!” Ridmark’s voice thundered through the hall. “To me, men of Owyllain!”
“You heard him!” said Tamlin. “This is our best chance to stop Rypheus.”
“But we cannot leave my father here!” said Kalussa.
She was right. If Hektor was left unguarded, the traitorous Prince might dispatch his remaining abscondamni to cut the King’s throat. For that matter, it might occur to Rypheus to kill Hektor and claim the Sword of Fire for himself. Ridmark had battled Calem to a standstill at Myllene, but Tamlin didn’t want to see a battle between Oathshield and the Sword of Fire.
As the abscondamni converged on the newcomers, Tamlin saw that he and Aegeus and Kalussa had been forgotten, at least for now.
“No, we can’t,” said Tamlin, sheathing his sword. “Aegeus, lift under his arms.”
“Are you insane?” said Kalussa. “If he drops the Sword, he’ll die.”
“That is why,” said Tamlin, “you’re going to make sure that he doesn’t drop it.” He grabbed under the King’s knees, while Aegeus took him under his arms. “Let’s move.”
Together they lifted Hektor Pendragon, while Kalussa grasped the scabbard, keeping the Sword of Fire from falling. Tamlin and Aegeus hurried down the steps of the dais, avoiding the corpses of slain knights and Accursed, and jogged across the hall. They ducked behind the pillars, keeping to the narrow aisle beneath the balcony between the pillars and the wall, and hurried towards the doors. None of the abscondamni were approaching, and Tamlin thought they could make it. His arms and legs were already exhausted from the fighting, and his shoulders and arms screamed with the strain of bearing the King’s weight, but he forced himself onward. Just a little further…
An abscondamnius raced towards them. Tamlin cursed, started to reach for his sword on reflex, and almost dropped Hektor. If he dropped Hektor and the King lost his grip on the Sword, it might mean his death.
Kalussa snarled, raised her hand, and cast a spell. The bolt of fire blasted through the abscondamnius’s skull, sending the creature to the ground. The stench of burned meat flooded Tamlin’s nostrils. Kalussa swayed on her feet and almost fell.
“That was almost everything I had left,” she said. “Go!”
Tamlin gritted his teeth and strained, hurrying past another pillar.
Three more abscondamni came into sight, racing towards them. Tamlin cursed as Kalussa raised her hand, fire sputtering around her fingers as she tried to pull together another spell.
“Set him down!” shouted Tamlin. “We’ll have to fight!” Aegeus nodded, and they started to lower Hektor to the floor. But the King was too heavy, and Kalussa didn’t have enough stamina to pull together another spell. She stumbled, a tremor going through her arms, and the abscondamni drew closer.
Then white fire flashed, and one of the abscondamni fell.
At least, the abscondamnius’s body fell. The head tumbled to the side and rolled away, and Ridmark Arban stepped into the path of the next Accursed, Oathshield a brand of white flame in his hand. A second abscondamnius fell, and Ridmark hammered his sword into the head of the third.
The final Accursed collapsed, and Ridmark turned, the light from his sword throwing harsh shadows across his scarred face.
“Lord Ridmark,” said Kalussa, her voice a croak. “We…”
“Good thinking, you three,” said Ridmark, looking at Hektor. “Follow me. Hurry!”
He led the way, cutting down any abscondamnius that drew near. Tamlin and Aegeus and Kalussa followed him, Tamlin’s shoulders screaming, his heartbeat a constant thunder in his ears. Nearly setting Hektor down to fight had made picking the King up again all the harder.
Then Ridmark went past a pillar, and they were behind the line of the advancing jotunmiri. In fact, it looked as if the great hall was turning from a sea of chaos to a battlefield, with the knights and the Arcanii rallying around the jotunmiri and Master Nicion, while the abscondamni drew together for a massed charge.
“Here!” Tamlin saw Lady Calliande hurrying towards them, white fire burning around her hands. “Set him down here!”
Tamlin and Aegeus set the King on the floor with a grunt, and Ridmark ran back to the fighting. Calliande went to one knee next to Hektor and cast a spell, her brow furrowing with concentration. Tamlin thought that she had been punched in the eyes, but then he realized that sweat had smeared her makeup.
“Can…can you help him, Lady Calliande?” said Kalussa.
Calliande put a hand on the King’s forehead. “Yes. The poison hurt him badly, but…” She looked up. “It wasn’t in him long enough to kill him.”
“That was Kalussa’s doing,” said Tamlin. “She realized what had happened and stu
ck a finger down his throat.”
“Good thinking,” said Calliande. “That was very good thinking. Another five seconds and the King would have been dead. You saved his life.”
Kalussa flushed at that.
Calliande put her hand on Hektor’s forehead and cast the healing spell. She grimaced and shook her head. “He should wake up eventually.” She got to her feet with a grunt. Tamlin realized that she was still holding the enhancement spell around the weapons, that she had cast the healing spell while having her concentration divided in so many directions. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of magical skill it took to maintain so many different flows of power at once. “If we live through this, he should survive.”
“Well, then,” said Tamlin, drawing his sword once more. “We ought to ensure that, hadn’t we?” Aegeus grinned and drew his axe once more, calling a new shield of ice into existence.
“Lady Calliande,” said Kalussa, staring at her father. “Thank you. I…I…”
“We can talk later,” said Calliande, already looking at the battle. “Right now, we need to fight.”
She cast another spell, throwing a bolt of white fire that burned through an abscondamnius and sent the lifeless creature to the floor.
“Yes,” said Kalussa. She drew herself up and called power, more fire dancing around her fingers.
Tamlin turned and headed towards the Arcanii and the jotunmiri struggling against the Accursed, Aegeus following him.
And as he did, shadow and blue fire exploded into the midst of the abscondamni.
###
Rypheus watched the battle, the Sign like a shard of ice in his fist.
The arrival of the Shield Knight and his wife had put fresh hope into the men of Owyllain, and with that hope came new vigor. They drove back the abscondamni, pushing further into the great hall. The abscondamni still outnumbered the Arcanii and the knights, but the men of Owyllain were fighting far more effectively.
It was time to change that.
Dark magic poured from the Sign, and Rypheus heard the whispering in his mind.
The whispers poured knowledge into his thoughts.
He had thought the Sign was merely a wellspring of power, a font of dark magic, but he had been wrong. Somehow it was putting the knowledge of spells into his mind. Once he was victorious, he would have to ask Khurazalin about it.
Until then, it was time to put his new knowledge to use.
Rypheus lifted the Sign and cast a spell.
###
Ridmark slew another abscondamnius, the creature joining the dead carpeting the floor.
The men of Owyllain were winning.
The abscondamni charged in a ragged mass, but the Arcanii and the knights maintained their formation, forming a line that blocked the doors to the Agora. The Arcanii threw blasts of elemental magic, killing the abscondamni before they could draw near. Those that came within sword range met the clubs of the jotunmiri or the swords of the Arcanius Knights who preferred to fight hand to hand.
But this would not be over until they found Rypheus. If he had poisoned Hektor, if he had started using dark magic, then almost certainly he was the one commanding the abscondamni. Ridmark killed another of the Accursed and looked for the Prince, but he saw nothing but a wall of bloody flesh and glowing yellow eyes. Maybe Rypheus had decided to flee the city while he still could.
A flare of shadow and blue fire burned behind the attacking abscondamni and Oathshield shuddered with new fury in Ridmark’s hand.
A lance of blue fire ripped out and struck one of the jotunmiri warriors. The giant let out a howl of agony and fell to one knee, the blue fire burning up and down his limbs. The mighty warrior withered into an ancient, mummified corpse. Vimroghast and the remaining jotunmiri let out bellows of rage, and Ridmark tried to find the source of the attack.
Rypheus stepped from the abscondamni, a bronze sword in his right hand, an amulet marked with the symbol Ridmark had seen in Cathair Valwyn in his left hand.
Gone was all trace of the smiling, confident Prince. Now Rypheus’s face was twisted with rage and hatred and sadistic glee. His skin had taken a grayish, corpse-like pallor, and blue fire burned in his eyes. Shadows crawled around both his blade and the medallion in his left hand, and Oathshield shuddered in response to the dark magic pouring off the Prince. Ridmark had seen this kind of transformation before. Dark magic had a deleterious effect on its users, and an incautious wizard could find himself accidentally twisted into a creature of dark magic.
To judge from Rypheus’s maddened expression, he had left caution behind a long time ago.
“The traitor!” shouted Nicion. “Take him! Take him now!”
A half-dozen knights sprinted for the Crown Prince, swords drawn back to stab.
Rypheus bared his teeth in a snarl, bringing up the black medallion.
“No!” said Calliande. “Don’t get close to him! Don’t…”
Spells flew at Rypheus, fire and lightning and ice and spheres of sputtering green acid. Rypheus thrust the medallion before him, the symbol of the double ring and the seven spikes flaring with blue light, and the medallion drained the spells into itself, like a dry sponge drinking water. Blue fire scythed from the medallion, washing over the half-dozen knights. The ghostly flames flashed over the men and sent them dead to the floor, reducing them to withered husks in bronze armor.
Rypheus’s dark magic was too strong. The elemental magic of the Arcanii was powerful in its own way, but it had little defense against the corruptive power of the dark sorcery that Rypheus Pendragon wielded. But Ridmark Arban was a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade, the only Swordbearer in Owyllain, and he wagered that Rypheus had never faced a foe like him before.
Or Calliande, for that matter.
A blast of white flame struck the Prince, rocking him back, and Rypheus screamed. In that moment of distraction, Ridmark charged, calling on Oathshield for protection. The soulblade flared with white fire in his hand, and the strength and speed the sword granted faded from Ridmark. But the soulblade’s power protected him from the aura of blue flame that swirled around Rypheus. Ridmark lunged at the Prince, hoping to end the battle with a single blow. Rypheus wore no armor, and if Oathshield found his heart, it would be over.
Rypheus snarled and raised his bronze sword to block, shadow fire swirling around the blade. Oathshield clanged off the sword, and Ridmark struck twice more in rapid succession, hoping to overwhelm the younger man’s defenses. Rypheus kept his balance, parried, and struck back. Ridmark dodged, and then beat side a sword thrust aimed at his throat. Calliande hit Rypheus with another shaft of white fire, and the Prince screamed in fury, stepping back and casting a spell in her direction. A lance of shadow-wreathed blue fire hurtled towards Calliande, but she made a raking motion with her hands, and a ward of light appeared around her. The lance shattered into nothingness, and Ridmark attacked again, hoping to land a blow before Rypheus recovered.
But the shadow-wreathed sword came back up, deflecting Oathshield.
“Interloper!” screamed Rypheus. “This is not your land! You cannot stand against the rise of the New God.”
“The New God?” said Ridmark. “A phantasm and a lie.”
Rypheus let out a wild laugh. “Are you blind? Do you not see the power of the New God?” He brandished his medallion. “Behold the sign of his coming!”
“For God's sake, man! Look around you!” said Ridmark. “Look at what the New God's power has wrought. Your comrades slaughtered and half your family dead. What has the New God promised you? The kingship of a realm of corpses? Perhaps its power is not the lie, but whatever it has promised you.”
Rypheus flinched as if Ridmark had slapped him, and something like lucidity came back into his face, the blue light dimming in his eyes. He looked around, as if seeing the dead for the first time, and doubt came into his expression.
Then the rage drowned the doubt, and Rypheus screamed and threw himself at Ridmark, sword rising and falling.
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Ridmark retreated, Oathshield’s hilt in both hands as he parried the enraged Prince’s attacks. The bronze sword should have shattered against Oathshield’s blade by now, but the dark magic protected Rypheus’s sword. Rypheus was too young to have become so powerful so quickly.
That amulet blazed with black fire in his left hand. Perhaps that was the source of his dark magic. It looked identical to the one that Qazaldhar had worn in Cathair Valwyn. Maybe it was even the same one. Either way, Rypheus was holding the thing in a death grip.
What would happen if he lost it?
Ridmark parried again, shoved Rypheus back, and went on the attack. The Prince snarled and raised his medallion, and it flung another lance of shadow-wreathed blue flame at Ridmark. He snapped Oathshield up, deflecting the blast, and swung at Rypheus. The Prince retreated back towards the dais. Ridmark fell into a pattern, launching swing after swing at Rypheus’s head.
On the fourth swing, he feinted, changing the direction of Oathshield at the last moment. Rypheus tried to react, but it was too late. Oathshield fell like a hammer blow and sheared through Rypheus’s left wrist. The Prince’s left hand fell to the ground, blood spurting from the stump, the fingers still clutching the dark medallion.
Rypheus screamed in horror and stumbled back, staring at his left arm. The aura of blue fire around him vanished, and the shadows around his sword winked out.
Ridmark started after him, and then an abscondamnius appeared in the corner of his vision. He shifted his stance, preparing to defend, but the abscondamnius ran past Ridmark, followed by three more.
They weren’t coming for Ridmark.
###
In all his life, Rypheus had never known pain like this.
His entire left arm felt like it was on fire. He staggered back, unable to take his eyes from the bloody stump. How had this happened? He was a follower of the New God! Rypheus would kill his father, present Aenesium to Justin Cyros, and the New God’s advent would be that much closer.
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