Sevenfold Sword_Warlord

by Jonathan Moeller

  Tamlin didn’t know what that meant, either.

  Then the undead rushed towards the Mholorasti warriors, Warlord Obhalzak howled a battle cry echoed by a thousand throats, and Tamlin had no more time for thought.

  ###

  The urvaalg snapped at Ridmark, and he sliced Oathshield at its muzzle, drawing on the soulblade to enhance his speed and strength. The urvaalg reared back, but not before Oathshield carved a sizzling line through the creature’s neck. The beast roared in fury, claws digging into the crushed grass as it prepared to spring at Ridmark, and then Third appeared behind the creature in a swirl of blue flame. Her swords ripped along its hind legs, and the urvaalg pitched forward.

  Oathshield came down and took off the urvaalg’s head, black slime spurting into the earth.

  Ridmark straightened up with a grunt, ignoring the ache in his shoulders and knees, and looked around. A flash of lightning caught his eye, and he saw Tamlin blast down another undead, his elemental lightning breaking the dark magic upon the undead thing. Aegeus used his magic in a far more direct fashion, smashing the undead with his frozen shield and using his dwarven axe to take off their heads before they recovered. The orcish warriors threw themselves at the undead with bellowed battle cries, Warlord Obhalzak in their midst, his huge axe rising and falling as if he was chopping wood.

  Another urvaalg bounded towards Ridmark, and he wheeled to face it. Before the urvaalg came another step, two spheres of fire and a bolt of lightning slammed into the creature. Master Nicion and the Arcanii had arrived and were unleashing their magical fury at the urvaalgs. The volley had not been enough to kill the urvaalg, but it had slowed it down enough for Ridmark to land a lethal strike.

  He ripped Oathshield free in time to face another pair of urvaalgs. The High Warlock must have had an entire kennel filled with the damned things. Ridmark pivoted, drawing on Oathshield for speed, and dodged a pair of jaws that would have opened his throat. He sidestepped, the soulblade’s strength filling him, and chopped the blade down with a two-handed swing. His blow took off the urvaalg’s head, and the creature went into spasms and then collapsed, black slime spurting from the stump of its neck.

  Ridmark wheeled to face the second urvaalg, but Sir Calem was already there.

  The former gladiator swung his sword with all his considerable strength behind it, and the Sword of Air passed through the urvaalg as it had been made of soft butter. The keen blade sliced the urvaalg in half, and the creature collapsed at once, the catastrophic wound snuffing out its life. Calem used none of the Sword’s more powerful magic for fear of collapsing the wards that held his spells of enslavement at bay. But with the Sword’s keen edge and its ability to make him faster, combined with his skill and strength it transformed Calem into an unstoppable force. He had left a half-dozen urvaalgs in pieces, and any undead that came into his path were dispatched with a simple flick of the Sword of Air.

  Ridmark turned, seeking for more urvaalgs. He saw Third a few yards away, caught her warning glance, and whirled just as four undead came at him, bronze blades flashing.

  Ridmark snapped up Oathshield, and he parried the first strike with enough force that the bronze blade tumbled from the undead orc’s hand. The creature staggered from the blow, and Ridmark struck. Oathshield blazed with white fire, and the soulblade’s power shattered the undead orc. It collapsed in a pile of bones, tarnished armor, and crumbling, mummified skin. Third raised her swords in a cross-parry, catching a descending bronze axe between her blue blades. Before the undead orc could retract its sword, Oathshield split its skull. Third whirled at once, driving her blades through the neck of the fourth undead orc with enough force to shatter the yellowed vertebrae. The final undead slashed at Third, but Ridmark parried the blow, retracted his sword, and drove Oathshield through its skull.

  He took a step back, breathing hard, and lifted Oathshield in guard as he sought for more urvaalgs. But he couldn’t find any. Had he and Calem dealt with them all already?

  A roaring noise filled his ears. It sounded a little like a storm, or perhaps the sea pounding at the shore, but Ridmark knew it was neither. It was an unmistakable sound, the roar of thousands of men charging into battle at once.

  The Vhalorasti orcs had almost reached the Mholorasti warriors. Justin’s hoplites were only a few dozen yards from Hektor’s soldiers, and the pagan jotunmiri and the baptized jotunmiri were charging at each other, bellowing their sagas in their native tongue.

  A screaming wall of Vhalorasti orcs charged at Ridmark, faces twisted with fury behind their long black mustaches and their spiraling red tattoos, the crimson glimmer of orcish battle fury in their black eyes. Behind Ridmark came the Mholorasti orcs, weapons raised as their Warlord led them into the fray.

  The battle had begun.

  Ridmark and Third fought for their lives in the melee.

  Chapter 16: Wrath of the Arcanii

  Kalussa gripped the Staff of Blades so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, and she forced herself to relax her grip and breathe slowly and deeply.

  The single largest battle she had ever seen was about to begin.

  It might be the greatest battle of the War of the Seven Swords. The war had been stalemated for years, with her father, King Justin, and the Confessor raiding each other, but lacking the strength to overcome the others in a final battle.

  This single battle, she realized, might decide the war.

  Kalussa looked at Calliande and wondered how the Keeper could look so calm, almost serene. Kalussa wanted to fall to her knees and throw up. Probably Calliande had a great deal of practice at this kind of thing.

  “Brace yourself,” murmured Calliande.

  Kalussa looked around, wondering if enemies had gotten behind the lines and were coming to attack her father.

  “This is going to be loud,” said Calliande.

  Loud? What was going to be loud?

  Then Justin’s men charged the final yards to meet Hektor’s army, and the roar filled Kalussa’s ears.

  She had never heard a sound like it, the noise of thousands of men shouting at once as they charged. It grew louder and louder, dotted with the shrieks of the wounded and the dying and the endless clang of bronze blade against helmet and cuirass and shield, and the ghastly sound of swords plunging into flesh. The two formations of hoplites crashed into each other, the shield walls struggling to hold, while the mobs of orcish warriors and jotunmiri charged and came to blows in ragged mobs. The archers sent flights of arrows soaring high overhead, and they arced through the air to fall like hailstones into the enemy.

  Justin’s archers did the same, and Kalussa flinched as the arrows fell towards them. They landed well clear of King Hektor’s banner, but she heard some screams as the arrows found targets among the hoplites.

  “The line is holding,” said Sir Tramond.

  Kalussa wondered how he could tell.

  There was a flash of fire on the left, followed by a thunderclap. Kalussa turned her head and saw another fireball raging through the Vhalorasti orcs. Master Nicion was there, she remembered, along with half of the reserve Arcanii. Ridmark and Tamlin and Aegeus and Lady Third and Calem were there as well. They had gone to fight the undead and the urvaalgs, and Kalussa realized they would have been trapped by the charge of the Vhalorasti orcs.

  Perhaps they were dead.

  Kalussa hoped they were alive. She didn’t want any of them to die. Ridmark’s death would leave Calliande a widow and his sons without a father. Tamlin had become a friend, to Kalussa’s surprise, and she was even fond of Aegeus. Third was Calliande’s friend and Sir Calem…Kalussa was surprised that the thought of him dying here upset her. A valiant warrior like him deserved better than dying in battle against a wretch like Justin Cyros. Calem deserved better than what had been done to him.

  She looked at the shouting mass of soldiers.

  A lot of men deserved better than what was about to happen to them.

  “Lady Calliande,” said Hektor. “Are t
he Arcanii still reinforcing the Mholorasti orcs?”

  Calliande turned her head in that direction. “Yes. They’re fighting the Vhalorasti warriors with their spells. It looks like the Vhalorasti are being driven back, at least a little.”

  Hektor looked to Sir Tramond. “Send a messenger. I want Nicion and his Arcanius Knights back here as soon as possible.”

  Kalussa hesitated. It wasn’t her place to question the King during the battle, but why would her father withdraw the Arcanii from the Mholorasti orcs? Did he want the Mholorasti orcs to fall? Worse, Ridmark and her friends were there.

  Then she saw Calliande looking to the north, and she understood.

  Hektor wanted the Arcanii gathered around his banner to deal with the orcish warlocks and King Justin’s Dark Arcanii. Sooner or later, they would make their presence known.

  Kalussa watched the chaos, wishing she could make sense of what was happening, wishing that she could do more to help.

  ###

  “Wise Elders of the Pyramid of Iron Skulls,” said Justin, watching the battle, “I think it is time that you took a direct hand in the fighting.”

  The two armies had come together. The hoplites strove against one another, bronze shields rasping against bronze shields, swords and spears stabbing through any gaps. They would struggle until one of the lines broke. Justin expected the battle to be decided either by the struggle between the jotunmiri or by the savage fighting between the Vhalorasti and the Mholorasti orcs. If Justin’s jotunmiri and Vhalorasti orcs broke through first, they would circle behind the struggling hoplites and decide the battle.

  If Hektor’s jotunmiri and Mholorasti orcs broke through first, they would attack Justin’s hoplites from behind and win the victory.

  Unless, of course, Justin turned the battle in his favor before that.

  Granted, he could use the Sword of Earth to rain destruction down upon Hektor’s army, but Hektor would use the Sword of Fire to answer in kind, and both armies would be destroyed in the resultant storm of magical power. No, best to save the Sword of Earth’s power until he had no choice to use it, or if he had a chance to deal a crippling blow to Hektor Pendragon. When the King of Aenesium was dead, Justin wanted Hektor’s surviving men to swear loyalty to him. Justin would need those soldiers against the Confessor and the Necromancer.

  “Lord King,” said Urzhalar in his rumbling voice. “Has the time come to use the power of the New God?”

  Justin would use any weapon at hand to defeat the New God. Including the New God’s own power.

  An appropriate irony, he thought.

  “Not yet,” said Justin. “We shall see what the Wise Elders can do first.”

  “So be it,” rasped the eldest of the warlocks. “You shall see the height of dark magic, King Justin. The feeble spells of the Arcanii are but a child’s game compared to the wisdom of the Pyramid of Iron Skulls.”

  Justin suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Then, please, demonstrate.”

  The warlocks began casting a spell, linking their powers together as bloody flames danced around their fingers.

  ###

  Calliande held the Sight in her will, sweeping it through the battle.

  It showed her terrifying things.

  The Sight revealed the ripples of pain and death going through the army, splashing against her mind like crimson paint against a white sheet. She saw the blaze of power waiting around the Sword of Fire and the Sword of Earth. The Sight also showed her Oathshield’s furious flame as Ridmark battled the Vhalorasti orcs and a hundred lesser auras of magic from the Arcanii and the warlocks.

  It was overwhelming. It would have driven Calliande mad, had she let it. But she had done this before, during battles larger than even this one, and years of experience allowed her to focus. She wanted to dwell on Ridmark, to make sure he was safe, or to blast her way to his side, but he could defend himself better than anyone else in the army, and she was needed here.

  Specifically, she needed to watch for the warlocks.

  “It’s coming,” said Calliande, her voice tight. “The warlocks are getting ready to strike. If any of you have any defensive spells to turn aside dark magic, cast them now.”

  “You heard the Keeper!” snapped Nicion. He had returned from the melee against the Vhalorasti orcs. After he had challenged her authority in Aenesium and then bowed before her greater magical skill and strength, the Master of the Arcanii seemed to have decided that he would enforce her commands in the harshest possible way. “Now!”

  Calliande ignored him and lifted her staff as she saw the storm of crimson fire form over Justin’s banner. At first, it was visible only to her Sight, but then she saw it with her material eyes. The warlocks of Vhalorast had pooled their power, gathering it together for a single massive strike at Hektor’s banner and the people around it.

  A sphere of crimson fire and shadow gathered over Justin’s banner, and a ripple went through the battle as the soldiers saw it.

  “Warding spells!” shouted Nicion, and the sphere hurtled towards King Hektor’s party, soaring over the battlefield.

  Calliande slammed the end of her staff against the ground and cast her own spell.

  The magic of the Well surged through her in a burning torrent, and she fed it through the Keeper’s mantle, charging it with power that no spell of this world could resist. Calliande thrust her staff over her head, and the end erupted with brilliant white fire. A dome of translucent white light appeared overhead, shimmering and rippling, and it grew large enough to cover the King’s entire party.

  An instant later the wrath of the Vhalorasti warlocks exploded against Calliande’s ward.

  She gritted her teeth and held her ground, pain exploding through her jaw, her entire will and magical power bent upon holding the ward. The crimson flames and writhing shadows burned against her shield, but her magic held.

  But already the warlocks were preparing another deadly spell, and while the Keeper’s power could not be overcome, Calliande’s stamina had no such advantages.

  “Nicion!” she said. “Strike back at them! I will hold back their attacks, but you need to strike back at them.”

  Another whirling ball of crimson flame and twisted shadow rippled into existence over Justin’s distant banner. The warlocks cast their spell, and this time they sent it hurtling towards the struggling hoplites. Calliande adjusted her focus and cast her warding spell, and another half-dome of white light appeared over the soldiers. The warlocks’ spell would have killed a hundred hoplites, ripping open a gash in Hektor’s lines, but Calliande’s ward held against the assault.

  Nicion bellowed commands to the other Arcanii, and they began a spell, joining their powers together. Their magic wove into an elemental attack, creating a whirling ball of molten fire ringed in snarling lightning. Nicion barked another order, and the sphere shot over the battle and landed in the midst of the orcish warlocks near Justin’s banner.

  They were nearly a mile away, with thousands of struggling men between them, but the Sight showed Calliande the warlocks’ frantic efforts to defend themselves. The warlocks’ next spell collapsed, and for a moment she saw nothing but chaos as they tried to rally. Nicion struck them again with another blast of elemental fire and snarling lightning, and the warlocks cast a ward of shadow around themselves, a hazy dome that would drain away any elemental attack.

  “Hold!” said Calliande. “They’ve warded themselves. You don’t have anything that could penetrate that.” She could break down the ward, given enough time, but that would distract her from doing anything else. And she suspected the point of the warlocks’ attack was not to decide the battle but to hold the Arcanii in check, to neutralize them and keep them from coming to the aid of the hoplites.

  And she saw a familiar surge of dark power near Justin’s banner.

  The Maledictus Urzhalar was getting ready to cast a spell.

  ###

  “We cannot break the ward, King Justin!” rasped the warlock, leaning on hi
s staff to keep from falling over. Wisps of smoke rose from the wood. Several of the warlocks had fallen dead from the effort of their recent spell casting. “I have never seen such magical strength. It is like trying to break a wall of stone with hammers of glass!”

  “I see,” said Justin, keeping the disdain from his face. The Wise Elders, indeed. Calliande Arban might have been the Keeper of Andomhaim, but she was still just one woman. Whether or not the Wiser Elders were wise might have been debatable, but Justin knew firsthand that they were useless.

  Another blast of elemental fire soared over the battlefield and slammed into the dome of shadows the warlocks had conjured around Justin and his party. Justin watched as the fire crackled against the ward, only to unravel and vanish as the dark magic drank away the power.

  “The Arcanii?” said Justin.

  “They continue their attack,” said the warlock, shaking his head as shadows streamed from his fingers to strengthen the ward. “We must strike back, or the enemy will break through our wards, but we cannot defeat the Keeper’s power.”

  Justin nodded as a volley of lightning bolts fell from the sky and hammered against the dome of shadows. The Arcanius Knights were giving a good showing of themselves. Well, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Nicion Amphilus was a jackass, but he was industrious and fearless. The Order of the Arcanii had become an effective weapon under his guidance.

  Despite the chaos of the battle, Justin’s mind flicked back over the decades. It was a danger of growing older, he supposed. He had accumulated so many memories that they sometimes arose in his mind at odd times. But he remembered Nicion as a young man, remembered the circle of four apprentices who had adored Master Talitha and followed her around like wolf cubs after their mother. Taerdyn, Cavilius, Cathala, and Nicion, and Nicion had been the only one not to be corrupted.

  A pity Justin hadn’t been able to recruit him.