Sevenfold Sword_Warlord

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Well, Urzhalar?” said Justin. “What do you think of that?”

  “The New God shall rise, King Justin,” said Urzhalar, his voice a deep basso rumble. If a mountain could speak, it would have a voice like that. His withered lips and mummified face remained motionless as he spoke, the blue fire in his eyes flickering. “It is inevitable. The New God shall have dominion over all the world, and all mortal kindreds shall be its slaves.”

  “Meet Urzhalar, the Maledictus of Earth,” said Justin.

  “Earth?” said the Keeper. The blue eyes narrowed. “Qazaldhar called himself the Maledictus of Death, and Khurazalin mentioned that he was the Maledictus of Fire. There is one high priest of the Maledicti for each of the Seven Swords, isn’t there?”

  “Very good, my lady, very good,” said Justin. “You may or may not be the real Keeper of Andomhaim, but you certainly have their legendary insight.”

  “Then here is another insight,” said the Keeper. “The Seven Swords are the means of the advent of the New God, are they not? That’s how the New God will rise. When the Seven Swords are united, the Maledicti will use them to somehow summon the New God.”

  “You speak truly, Calliande Arban,” said Urzhalar, the undead sorcerer’s glowing eyes turning towards her. “My brothers Khurazalin and Qazaldhar were not deceived. You are indeed dangerous.”

  “Khurazalin is dead,” spat Tamlin.

  “As am I, Sir Tamlin,” said Urzhalar. “As am I.”

  “If you are planning to summon the New God and Justin Cyros opposes it,” said the Shield Knight, “why are you aiding him?” His voice was grim and harsh, a little hoarse from shouting commands in battle. It was the voice of a veteran warrior. A dangerous man, then, and Justin suspected that the sword at his belt was just as dangerous. Urzhalar had said that the magic of the Shield Knight’s sword was just as potent as any one of the Seven Swords.

  “If you are as familiar with warfare as I think, Shield Knight,” said Justin, “then I trust you have heard this maxim. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “The Confessor opposes the rise of the New God,” said Urzhalar. “King Hektor Pendragon opposes the rise of the New God. Rhodruthain the Guardian opposes us. The Necromancer of Trojas opposes us. They shall be destroyed, as the Master Talitha was once destroyed and her shards shall be destroyed. Once our foes are overcome and the Seven Swords reunited, the New God will rise in power and splendor.”

  “So you see,” said Justin. “The Maledicti think they can use me to destroy their enemies and claim the Seven Swords for them. They are wrong. Once my enemies are destroyed, I will turn on the Maledicti and destroy them.”

  “So you say, King Justin,” said Urzhalar. “But in time you will see the glory of the New God revealed.”

  “Indeed,” said Justin with a smirk. “Do you not see, Hektor? This is what I have done. I will reunite Owyllain, reunite the Seven Swords, and destroy the seven high priests of the Maledicti. Then Owyllain will be reunited. Then we shall be at peace.”

  “And what shall be done with the Seven Swords once they are reunited?” said Hektor.

  “Six of them I shall lock away in safety,” said Justin. “The seventh I shall wield, and with it, I will transform Owyllain into an empire that will make the Sovereign’s realm look like a petty fiefdom. Mankind shall rule all other kindreds, and we will forge a realm that will last for ten thousand years.”

  “I’ve heard such speeches before,” said the Shield Knight, “and they ended in disaster.”

  “No,” said Hektor. “The Seven Swords must be destroyed.”

  “Destroyed?” said Justin, incredulous. “Ridiculous. They offer immense power. We were helpless against the dark elves and the dvargir and the xiatami until Rhodruthain founded the Order of the Arcanii amongst us. But the Arcanii wield small elemental magic and nothing more. The Swords hold limitless power. With them, we can make humanity safe from all harm.”

  “Power such as this,” said Hektor, and he banged the pommel of the Sword of Fire with his fist, “was not meant to be wielded by mortal hands. Nothing but death and destruction has befallen Owyllain since Kothlaric found the Seven Swords. No. I will reunite Owyllain, and I will take the Seven Swords to the ancient forge in Cathair Animus. There I will destroy all seven of them, as Kothlaric intended to do, and I will free our people from their curse.”

  Justin shook his head, annoyed. “You were always too timid, Hektor. Too timid to do what must be done to save our people.”

  “I know what must be done to save our people and Owyllain,” said Hektor, “both from the Seven Swords, and from you. This parley is done.”

  “Almost,” said Justin. He looked away from Hektor and towards the Shield Knight and the Keeper. “I have one more offer to make first.”

  Chapter 14: To Save The Realm

  “Steady,” murmured Kalussa as King Hektor and King Justin spoke.

  Tamlin managed a shallow nod, his heart thundering in his chest, his sword hand clenching and unclenching at his side. Some part of him was ashamed at his lack of self-control.

  The rest of him just burned with rage.

  He had not expected that the sight of Justin Cyros would infuriate him so much. Justin had aged in the years since Cathala’s murder and the destruction of the Monastery of St. James. Yet Tamlin still recognized Justin as the terrifying warrior who had led the attack on the monastery, who had butchered the monks and killed Tamlin’s mother. He felt again the helpless, terrified rage of the boy he had been, the dread as the dvargir clapped their chains around him and dragged him to Urd Maelwyn.

  Every one of Tamlin’s miseries, every loss he had suffered, all of them could be laid at the feet of Justin Cyros. He would not have been made a slave and sold as a gladiator if not for that man. His mother would still be alive.

  Tysia would still be alive.

  But Tamlin wasn’t helpless now, was he?

  He wanted to draw his sword and cut down Justin where he stood. He wanted to call magic, as much elemental force as he could hold, and blast the murderous King of Cytheria to smoking char.

  Only two things stopped him.

  First, he could not shame himself in front of his friends and King Hektor. Tamlin was a Companion knight of the King and of the Order of the Arcanii, not a weepy child. If Tamlin struck first, if he attacked Justin, history would remember that one of Hektor’s knights had drawn a sword under a banner of peace. He would not dishonor Hektor Pendragon, not after all the King had done for him.

  Second, there was nothing Tamlin could do to hurt Justin right now.

  If he drew his sword and charged, likely Krastikon and the other Ironcoats would cut him down, or Urzhalar would blast him dead with dark magic. If Tamlin tried to cast a spell at Justin, Urzhalar would stop him. For that matter, the Sword of Earth might protect Justin from any elemental magic.

  Acting now would only bring catastrophe.

  Patience. Hadn’t the dvargir trainers in the Ring of Blood taught him that the patient warrior, the warrior who governed his rage and held his passions in check, was the warrior who usually won? More importantly, hadn’t Michael always said the same thing? There was no way Hektor and Justin could come to an accord. Justin had forsaken honor and justice and the church of the Dominus Christus for tyranny and dark magic. Hektor would not make an accord with a man like that, and this parley was going to end in a battle.

  Patience. Tamlin was going to have his chance.

  Perhaps sooner than he would like.

  “God and the saints,” muttered Kalussa.

  Tamlin glanced at her.

  “Justin does like the sound of his own voice,” said Kalussa.

  Tamlin fought down a wild laugh. “He does.”

  She was trying to distract him from his own obvious rage and pain, trying to keep him from doing something stupid, just as Calliande had done a moment earlier. That was surprising, really. He never thought that someone like Kalussa Pendragon, arrogant Sister of the Order of th
e Arcanii, was capable of empathy. Calliande was a good influence on her.

  She had been a good influence on Tamlin as well, come to think of it.

  “I have one more offer to make first,” said Justin.

  Tamlin thought Justin was speaking to him. Well, he would tell Justin just where he could shove his offer.

  Then he realized that Justin was talking to Ridmark and Calliande.

  ###

  Ridmark watched Justin Cyros.

  In a way, Justin reminded Ridmark of Tarrabus Carhaine. Tarrabus had possessed the same ruthlessness, the same sense of brutality, the same willingness to use dark powers to achieve his ends. But Tarrabus had lied to himself constantly, and Justin did not seem to share that weakness. For that matter, Tarrabus’s attempt to usurp the throne of Andomhaim had lasted barely a year before he had been defeated. Justin had ruled Cytheria, kept his allies in line, and held his enemies at bay for twenty-five years.

  Ridmark suspected that Justin was far more dangerous and competent than Tarrabus had been.

  He glanced at Calliande, and she nodded, and together they took a few steps forward.

  “And what manner of offer is that?” said Ridmark.

  “It is true, is it not?” said Justin. “You are from Andomhaim.”

  “That’s right,” said Ridmark.

  “Fascinating,” said Justin. “Urzhalar said that you had come here from Andomhaim…but I did not think it true. Andomhaim was destroyed by the urdmordar centuries ago, all men know that.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Ridmark. “I’ve seen it. Recently, in fact.”

  “How did you come here?” said Justin. “Surely you didn’t travel all this way just to interfere in the War of the Seven Swords?”

  “We did not,” said Calliande. “Nor did we choose to come here. The Guardian Rhodruthain appeared in the hall of the High King in Tarlion.” Urzhalar let out a faint rumbling sound that reminded Ridmark of a falling boulder. “He claimed that the New God was coming and that if it was not stopped, it would enslave the world. Then he used his magic to transport us to the hill country near Castra Chaeldon.”

  He did not mention Gareth or Joachim. Justin Cyros had just admitted to murdering Queen Adrastea’s children from her first marriage.

  “And he did not…give you a task?” said Justin. “He did not give you a mission, a purpose?”

  “He did not,” said Ridmark. “He simply dropped us in the hills near Castra Chaeldon. The Guardian has not deigned to speak to us or appear to us since.”

  Justin snorted. “How typical.”

  “You know something of the Guardian, then?” said Calliande.

  “More than I would wish,” said Justin. “Some of it, no doubt, you have heard from King Hektor and Master Nicion. When Connmar Pendragon came to these shores and founded Owyllain, we were nearly destroyed by the dark magic of the Sovereign and his servants. Rhodruthain founded the Order of the Arcanii among us…and then disappeared for centuries after providing the Arcanii with only a modicum of training. He returned during Kothlaric’s final war against the Sovereign, and accompanied the High King to Cathair Animus to destroy the Seven Swords there.” He shrugged. “Likely you have heard what happened next. Master Talitha and Rhodruthain betrayed Kothlaric and tried to take the Seven Swords. In the resultant fighting, Kothlaric was slain, and so was Master Talitha. Taerdyn and Cavilius got away with the Sword of Death and the Sword of Shadows, and the Confessor seized the Sword of Water for himself. I realized that if I did not take one of the Swords, Owyllain would be enslaved, so I took the Sword of Earth. Hektor had the same realization, which is why he now carries the Sword of Fire.”

  “I did,” said Hektor. “And I will complete my brother’s mission and destroy the Seven Swords.”

  “No, you won’t,” said Justin. “Do you not see? Bringing the Seven Swords to Cathair Animus will summon the New God.”

  “How?” said Hektor.

  “What is within Cathair Animus, King Justin?” said Calliande. She had taken on fully the mien of the Keeper now, calm and collected and aloof. “Rhodruthain calls himself the Guardian of Cathair Animus. Presumably, that means there is something within Cathair Animus to protect.”

  “There is a source of magical power within Cathair Animus,” said Justin. “Something ancient and potent. The Sovereign always wanted it, but he was never able to seize Cathair Animus. I don’t know what it is, but apparently, the gray elves called it the Well of Storms…”

  “What?” said Ridmark.

  The heart of the storm. The dwarven history Antenora had read claimed that the Sovereign had gone to Owyllain to claim the heart of the storm.

  And the Well of Storms…

  There was a Well in Andomhaim. The High King’s Citadel had been built around it, and the Well was the source of the magic of the Magistri and the healing magic that Calliande used. For the first five centuries of Andomhaim’s existence, the Well had been a mystery, its purpose unknown. Then the high elven archmage Ardrhythain had partially unlocked the Well and founded the Order of the Magistri, permitting the men of Andomhaim to use the Well’s magic for healing and defense and knowledge.

  Something Ardrhythain had once said flickered through Ridmark’s mind. It had been during the day of the final battle against the Frostborn and Imaria Shadowbearer, and so Ridmark had been distracted at the time. But Ardrhythain had said there were other Wells of magical power scattered around the world. When Imaria had seized the Well at the Citadel’s heart, she had almost freed Incariel and destroyed the world.

  If there was another Well in Cathair Animus, what would happen if one of the bearers of the Seven Swords claimed it?

  “The Well of Storms?” said Calliande.

  “Yes,” said Justin. “Or so the Maledicti called it. Some of the orcs of Owyllain have legends of it. The gray elves, too. Or at least they did before the Sovereign ground their civilization into dust.” He tapped his fingers against the pommel of the Sword of Earth. “You’ve heard of it, then?”

  “I have seen magical Wells elsewhere,” said Calliande, which Ridmark supposed was true enough. “They are very powerful and very dangerous.”

  Justin nodded. “Rhodruthain is the Guardian of Cathair Animus because the ruined city holds the Well of Storms, I believe. That, no doubt, is why he betrayed High King Kothlaric and claimed the Sword of Life for himself. He feared Kothlaric desired to claim his precious Well.”

  “Perhaps,” said Calliande. “Rhodruthain did not seem entirely sane.”

  “Of course he isn’t sane,” said Justin. “He’s at least fifteen thousand years old. I doubt any mind, even the mind of a gray elf, could endure that span of years without crumbling. And that is why he brought you here.”

  “Because he’s insane?” said Ridmark.

  “Because he is protecting his ruined city,” said Justin. “He is extending the war between the bearers of the Seven Swords because it is to his advantage to do so. That’s why he simply dropped you into the hill country near Castra Chaeldon. He knew you would bring chaos and this war would drag out even further.”

  “What is your point?” said Ridmark.

  Justin’s steely eyes met Ridmark’s. “Join me. Both of you.”

  Calliande laughed a little. “You cannot be serious, King Justin.”

  “I am deadly serious, my lady,” said Justin. “If you are truly the Keeper of Andomhaim, you wield great power. As for the abilities of the Shield Knight…well, King Hektor still holds Castra Chaeldon and Rypheus was stopped, was he not? Yes, I know you would be dangerous enemies…or potent allies.”

  “Why would we join you?” said Ridmark.

  “Because I am willing to do what needs to be done,” said Justin. “Owyllain must be reunified by force. The Seven Swords must be gathered, and the Maledicti destroyed.” Urzhalar showed no reaction to that. Ridmark wondered if the Maledictus was confident that he could deal with Justin Cyros when the time came. “I will use any weapon I can find to save both O
wyllain and mankind. But Owyllain is not your homeland, and the War of the Seven Swords is not your fight. I assume you want to go home? Perhaps Rhodruthain left your children behind in Andomhaim. If you help me, once I have reunited Owyllain and crushed the other bearers of the Seven Swords, we will find Rhodruthain and force him to use his magic to return you home.” He pointed at Hektor. “Shield Knight, Keeper, you have chosen the wrong side. In the end, I am strong enough to do what must be done to end the war and return you home. Hektor is not.”

  “Do you know what this is?” said Ridmark, tapping Oathshield’s pommel. The soulstone in the pommel flashed a little at his touch. Through his bond with the soulblade, he felt the weapon’s fury at the presence of the dark magic that mantled Urzhalar.

  “A weapon of magical potency,” said Justin. “Equal in power to the Seven Swords, but its magic is defensive in nature.”

  “It’s called a soulblade,” said Ridmark. “Five hundred years ago, the high elven archmage Ardrhythain forged the swords and gave them to the men of Andomhaim so our ancestors could fight the urdmordar. That was how Andomhaim survived the war with the urdmordar and their servants. That is how we were able to take Castra Chaeldon from Archaelon and stop Rypheus.”

  “A potent weapon,” said Justin. “Is this a warning against betraying you, Shield Knight? You are too powerful to risk it, you and your wife both. Join me, and I will fulfill my promise to you.”

  “Carrying this soulblade makes me a Swordbearer of Andomhaim,” said Ridmark, “and Swordbearers are sworn to oppose dark magic in all of its forms and shapes and guises.”

  Justin’s steel-colored eyes narrowed, and Urzhalar let out a quiet, rumbling laugh.

  “Then you reject my offer?” said Justin.

  “I think my answer speaks for itself, King Justin,” said Ridmark.

  Justin snorted and looked at Calliande. “And you, Keeper of Andomhaim? What say you? Or does the Shield Knight speak for his wife?”

  “Lord Ridmark is perfectly capable of speaking for me. But if you want an answer from my own tongue, King Justin, you shall have one. I am the Keeper of Andomhaim,” said Calliande, her voice cool and clear. “The office of Keeper originated upon Old Earth, defending the men of Britannia from dark magic. Later the Keepers of Avalon allied themselves with the High Kings of Britannia, and the Keeper followed Malahan Pendragon through the gate to this world to escape from the pagan Saxons. Ever since then, the Keepers have watched over the realm of Andomhaim, defending it from dark magic.” She called forth no magic and cast no spell, but her eyes seemed to blaze, and her voice grew louder. “You don’t know what it has cost me to defend Andomhaim from dark powers, King Justin Cyros. You don’t know the sacrifices I have made and the horrors I have fought. I saw two wars that make the War of the Seven Swords seem like a skirmish between rural lords. All this I have seen, all this I have survived…and you ask me to lay that aside to help you work dark magic. No.”