That sent a chill down Tamlin’s spine. He had seen the Confessor’s urdhracosi, his most trusted lieutenants, circling over the central tower of Urd Maelwyn. In the ruins of Cathair Valwyn below Aenesium, he had fought an urdhracos with the Keeper and the Shield Knight, and even with Calliande’s and Ridmark’s help, that had been one of the hardest fights of Tamlin’s life.
“That is also correct,” said Third. “I was an urdhracos for nearly a thousand years.”
Silence answered that. Tamlin wanted to reach for his sword.
“But…you’re not now?” said Aegeus.
“No,” said Third. “After Queen Mara slew our father, I was filled with despair. I returned to Nightmane Forest to die in battle. The Shield Knight battled me to a standstill, and I urged him to slay me. Instead, he said that Queen Mara had broken free from our father’s blood, and I might do the same. A friar named Brother Caius baptized me so that my soul might be commended to the Dominus Christus before I died, and I faced the dark elven blood within myself. I broke free of its hold, and became as I am now.”
She said it so…calmly.
As if it were not one of the most astonishing things that Tamlin had ever heard.
He glanced at Calliande and Ridmark. From time to time, they spoke in passing of things they had done in the past, and both the Shield Knight and his wife spoke of the most astounding deeds as if they were nothing.
“A remarkable tale indeed,” said Kalussa.
“You are the one,” said Kyralion.
“The one to do what?” said Third.
Calliande looked at Kyralion. “The vision you spoke of…”
“The Augurs of the Unity sent me to find the Shield Knight and the Keeper, to protect them from harm,” said Kyralion. “They also showed me one of their visions. I was to watch for a woman in flames. You are the woman from the vision. You are the omen.”
“The omen of what, Kyralion?” said Calliande.
“The Augurs and the lorekeepers said that the woman in flames would either save my kindred and the Unity,” said Kyralion, “or she would be the final instrument of my kindred’s destruction.”
There was silence for a while.
“That seems unlikely,” said Third at last. She remained calm, though she watched Kyralion with wariness. “You are a gray elf? I did not even know of your kindred until the Shield Knight told me of you a quarter of an hour ago.”
“But you are the woman from the vision,” said Kyralion. “I am utterly certain of it.”
“Let’s talk to King Hektor first,” said Ridmark. “He needs to know about this, and how Third’s capabilities can help us against Justin Cyros. By then the army will be camping for the night, and we can sit down and talk properly.”
“If there is no objection, I agree to this course,” said Third.
“Yes,” said Calliande. “I think…”
She fell silent and frowned, her fingers tightening against her staff.
Then she looked up.
###
The Sight stirred to life within Calliande.
She looked around, both with her material eyes and with her Sight. At once she saw the powerful magical aura around the bracer on Third’s right forearm, and she recognized the distinctive work of her apprentice Antenora. There was a seeking spell on the bracer, which no doubt explained how Third had found them on the other side of the world. She also carried another magical item in her pack, something that also had the distinctive look of Antenora’s work.
But that was not what had awakened the Sight within Calliande.
There was a ripple of power nearby, faint and suppressed. Even with the Sight, Calliande could barely find it, and she could not pinpoint the source.
But she had seen a ripple like this before, in the final hours before Calem, the bearer of the Sword of Air, had attacked them at the town of Myllene.
“Ridmark,” said Calliande. “It’s Calem. I think he’s nearby.”
That got a response from the others.
Ridmark tossed aside his staff, which would have been useless against the Sword of Air, and drew Oathshield. Tamlin drew his sword of dark elven steel and Aegeus the dwarven axe he had taken from the Maledictus Qazaldhar in the ruins of Cathair Valwyn. Kalussa gestured, fire crackling around her free hand, and the crystal at the end of the Staff of Blades started to glow brighter. Kyralion snatched his bow from over his shoulder and set an arrow to it. Third glanced at them and then drew her short swords of dark elven steel from her belt.
Some of the cart drivers stirred, frowning at the sight of drawn weapons.
“Where?” said Ridmark.
“I don’t know,” said Calliande, “but he’s nearby.”
“My ability to travel is being blocked,” said Third.
Calliande looked at her, and then at Ridmark. Mara and Third could travel nearly anywhere with the power in their blood, but they couldn’t travel while holding soulstones. But powerful wizards could sometimes cast a ward that could block the traveling ability within a specific area.
“The Sword of Air must have that effect,” said Ridmark. “It…”
“There!” said Third, pointing up with her right-hand sword.
Of course. Calem would attack from above. He had tried to attack them from above at Myllene.
Calliande looked up, and up, and up.
A hundred and fifty feet off the ground, perched on one of the redwood branches, she glimpsed a man in a white cloak. In his right hand he held a silver longsword, and as Calliande’s Sight focused upon him, she saw the magical force that burned within that blade, magic mighty and unyielding.
Calem had indeed returned, and he carried the Sword of Air.
The white-cloaked assassin leaped from the branch and fell like a thunderbolt, sword angled to kill.
Chapter 2: Chains of Dark Magic
“Move!” shouted Ridmark, stepping in front of Calliande with Oathshield’s hilt in both hands.
His warning was unnecessary. Calliande’s Sight and Third’s keen eyes had already spoiled Calem’s ambush, and the others scattered. The white cloak billowed like wings behind Calem, and the assassin adjusted the arc of his fall, aiming for Calliande.
Calliande jumped back, and Ridmark charged to meet Calem.
The fall should have shattered every bone in Calem’s body, but he landed lightly, and his silver sword shivered towards Ridmark’s face in a gleaming blur. Oathshield burst into howling white flames as it met the Sword of Air. Ridmark drew on the sword’s power for stamina and strength, and that gave him the speed to meet Calem’s attack. The younger man was quick, deadly quick, and Oathshield and the Sword of Air clanged together three times in as many heartbeats.
Then the others closed around him. Calliande and Kalussa began casting spells, and Calem leaped backward, soaring a dozen yards through the air to land in the gap between two redwood trees, the Sword of Air held before him.
Ridmark took a long breath, raising Oathshield in guard.
There was no sign of the wounds Ridmark had inflicted on Calem at Myllene.
Whoever Calem was, the wounds that should have killed him had been healed. He had bright green eyes and thick black hair, his face an expressionless mask. Beneath the white cloak, he wore blue dark elven armor like Ridmark’s own, overlapping plates of blue steel covering his torso and hanging down to shield his upper legs. The Sword of Air hung loosely in his right hand, and fingers of lightning crawled up and down the blade. The white cloak that hung from his shoulders seemed to stir of its own volition, rippling despite the lack of breeze.
“Who are you?” said Ridmark. “Why are you attacking us?”
Calem said nothing, his eyes moving back and forth between them. Tamlin, Aegeus, and Third spread out around Ridmark. Kyralion lifted his bow, and both Kalussa and Calliande held magic ready.
“I am Calem,” said Calem in a toneless, dead voice. “Your deaths have been decreed. I must slay the Shield Knight and the Keeper. If I carry out the decre
e, perhaps I shall wake from the nightmare without end.”
He thrust the silver sword forward, and a cone of lightning leaped from its end, snarling across the ground towards them. Ridmark called on Oathshield’s power, but Calliande was faster. She thrust her staff, and a shimmering wall of translucent white light appeared before them. Calem’s cone of lightning slammed into it with a snarling thunderclap, and both the cone of lightning and the warding spell vanished.
Calem was right behind it, and Ridmark met his attack.
The Sword of Air and Oathshield met again, lightning snarling against the soulblade’s white fire. Calem was fast, and Ridmark suspected that the Sword of Air augmented his speed further. Without Oathshield’s power, Ridmark doubted he could have held the younger man back.
Third, Tamlin and Aegeus all closed. Tamlin moved with the speed granted by the magic of elemental air, and Aegeus had conjured a massive shield of ice upon his left arm, the dwarven axe in his right hand. Ridmark doubted the icy shield would do anything to slow the edge of Calem’s sword.
But for all his speed and skill, Calem was only one man, and he would only deal with attackers from so many directions at once.
As the others closed around him, Calem leaped again, and once more he soared backward, landing a dozen yards away.
Kyralion drew back his bow and released, the magic of the minor soulstone set into his bow setting his arrow ablaze. Kalussa threw a bolt of magical fire, shimmering and bright even in the afternoon sun. Calem moved, and the Sword of Air blurred. The arrow shattered against his blade, and Kalussa’s magic splintered against the Sword of Air.
“God and the saints!”
Ridmark risked a glance back, saw that one of the cart drivers had stood up in his seat. Fortunately, he seemed to be driving the last cart in the line of march. Most of the rest of the army had moved on, which meant that there were fewer targets for Calem to kill. Ridmark could barely hold his own against the white-cloaked assassin. If any common hoplites or even Arcanii joined the fight, Calem would cut them down like wheat.
“Run!” snapped Ridmark to the man. “Get a message to King Hektor! Tell him that Calem has returned!” Ridmark did not think that Hektor Pendragon would be a match for Calem in hand to hand combat, but the power of the Sword of Fire might contest against the Sword of Air. For that matter, if Master Nicion and the more powerful Arcanii joined the fray, that might turn the tide.
To his credit, the driver did not hesitate but snapped the reins. The scutians lumbered a little faster, and the wagon rattled away.
Calem did not care. Likely he knew that no hoplite would pose a threat to him. Again, he thrust the sword, hurling a cone of lightning toward Ridmark, and again Calliande’s shimmering ward shattered it before the cone would touch anyone. Kyralion shot three arrows toward Calem in rapid succession, and Calem knocked every one of them out of the air with quick, flourishing slashes of his blade.
Ridmark strode towards Calem, Tamlin, Aegeus, and Third following him, and Calem slashed the Sword of Air.
The air around Ridmark thickened, and everything around him went slightly blurry as if he was trying to look at the world through a window covered with a thin layer of grease. Aegeus, Third, and Kyralion all went motionless, though a blaze of white light flared around Calliande. Kalussa and Tamlin remained free, immune to the Sword of Air’s power because of their Swordborn heritage. Oathshield burned hotter in Ridmark’s hands, and he recognized the power that Calem had just used. At Myllene, he had somehow used the Sword to thicken the air, imprisoning the people of the town like flies trapped in amber.
Oathshield’s power protected Ridmark from the magic, and Calliande’s power as the Keeper shielded her.
Calem rushed towards him, and Ridmark fought for his life as Kalussa and Tamlin rushed toward him.
###
Calliande summoned power for a spell, white fire burning up and down the length of her staff. Ridmark dueled Calem in front of her, Oathshield battling against the Sword of Air. He held his own against the assassin in the white cloak, but Calliande did not know how long he could hold the assassin back, and he needed help. But she was starting to suspect that Calem needed help as well.
Calem burned with dark magic to her Sight…but it wasn’t his own dark magic.
It looked as if spiked chains of harsh blue fire and shadow had been driven into his flesh and threaded through his limbs, almost like strings controlling the limbs of a marionette. A similar chain of dark magic had been wound around his head, the spikes stabbing into his mind. If Calliande looked at those chains for too long, a vision flashed through her mind, an image of Calem hanging naked in a shadowy vault, hundreds of bronze spikes driven into his flesh.
Someone had done this to him.
Someone had bound him with dark magic and sent him to kill. Could she break the spells upon him? Calliande didn’t know. If she had an hour and no interruptions, she would probably do it, but the spells were complex, and she doubted that Calem would give her that hour.
And if she had to choose between Calem’s life and Ridmark’s, she would choose Ridmark’s.
Calliande drew in as much power as she could hold, shouted, and struck the end of her staff against the ground. The staff blazed with white fire, and a ring of brilliant light exploded out from it. The ring slashed through the air, and the strange distortion vanished. Kyralion put another arrow to his string. Ridmark and Calem kept battling, but Tamlin, Aegeus, and Third charged at the white-cloaked assassin. Aegeus changed tactics and hurled a spike of magical ice at Calem, and the Sword of Air darted up and shattered the attack. But the necessity of blocking the attack forced Calem back a step, and Ridmark pursued, hammering with two-handed blows. Third circled around him, her blades stabbing at Calem’s side and flanks, and if she landed a blow on his leg, she would cripple him.
Calem had no choice but to leap into the air again, landing a dozen yards away as his pursuers turned to attack him.
But before Calem could attack or Ridmark and the others could charge, Calliande struck.
She threw a shaft of brilliant white fire at Calem, throwing all the power of the Well of Tarlion and all the strength of the mantle of the Keeper into the spell. It was a spell of dispelling, designed to shatter and break spells of dark magic, and it would not hurt a living mortal.
But it burned into the bonds of dark magic chaining Calem.
The assassin shuddered with a scream, his eyes going wide. Calliande gritted her teeth, ignoring the pain in her jaw, and poured all her strength into the spell. She felt her will contesting with the dark magic woven through Calem’s flesh. The dark magic wavered, started to crumble, and then rallied, repulsing Calliande’s attack.
But for an instant, she had seen bewilderment on Calem’s face. As if he didn’t know where he was or what he was doing.
The cold mask returned, and he charged to meet Ridmark once more. Third, Tamlin, and Aegeus rushed to join the fray, but the brunt of the battle fell upon Ridmark. He was the only one who could move fast enough to match Calem’s inhuman speed, and Calliande could tell it took every bit of his strength and all Oathshield’s power to manage it.
Yet Tamlin and Aegeus attacked with enough vigor to force Calem back on the defensive. Third kept harrying Calem, keeping the assassin off-balance. Even without her power to travel, she was still a masterful fighter. Calliande had not seen many fighters with a thousand years of experience, but Third fought with the accumulated skill of every one of those years.
“That spell,” said Kalussa.
“What spell?” said Calliande, drawing power for another spell. What should she try next? Another spell to break the binding upon Calem? An elemental spell to stun him – no, the Sword of Air would likely deflect anything as simple as that. Or should she use her magic to augment the speed and strength of Tamlin and Third and Aegeus?
“You tried to break the bindings on him,” said Kalussa. “I saw you use that spell against him at Myllene.”
&nb
sp; “He’s moving too fast, and the bindings on him are too strong,” said Calliande. “If he would stay still long enough, I might be able to manage it, but…”
“Let me try something,” said Kalussa, and she lifted the Staff of Blades with both hands, pointing the weapon towards Calem.
###
Kalussa sent her will into the Staff of Blades, and she felt the weapon stir in response to her magic.
She hated the damned thing.
Kalussa had resented her magical ability for years. She was Swordborn, a daughter of the wielder of the Sword of Fire, and she was immune to the power of the Seven Swords. If not for her magic, she would have been married by now. If not for that power, she might have had a child already, maybe two.
If not for her magic, she might not have made such a damned fool of herself trying to become Ridmark’s concubine.
And if not for her magic, she would not have bonded with the Staff of Blades.
Calliande told her that the Staff held no dark magic, only elemental magic of surpassing potency, yet her skin still crawled as she touched it. Khurazalin had used the weapon to slaughter dozens during the battle at the banquet hall, and for millennia before that, the Staff had been one of the personal weapons of the Sovereign of Urd Maelwyn. How many loyal men of Owyllain had the Sovereign slain with the staff? How many brave knights and heroic champions?
She was touching a weapon once wielded by the Sovereign, and that filled her with loathing.
Still, her uncle Kothlaric Pendragon had slain the Sovereign, so perhaps the Staff belonged to the House of Pendragon by right of conquest. And Kalussa had taken the Staff from Khurazalin, even if it had almost killed her in the process. Perhaps she had the right to wield the Staff both by right of blood and right of conquest.
The right, perhaps…but not the ability.
Khurazalin had used the Staff to unleash storms of bladed crystalline disks, disks that had sliced through flesh and bone and even stone as if they had been soft butter. Kalussa couldn’t manage that yet, maybe couldn’t ever manage it. Her magical skills were nowhere near the level of someone like Calliande or Khurazalin.
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