Soul of Swords (Book 7)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “Maurus, Montigard, with me,” said Hugh. “Lord Bryce, you have the command until I return. Montigard, pick a hundred knights for our escort, and make sure they all have flasks of wizard’s oil.”

  “What do you have in mind?” said Bryce.

  “I am going to meet Lord Malden Roland,” said Hugh, “and I am going to tell him to leave Greycoast at once.”

  Karlam scowled, but thankfully did not say anything.

  Bryce sighed. “As you think best, my lord Prince. We shall be ready for battle, if it comes to it.”

  Hugh nodded and rode to join Montigard. A short time later Montigard had assembled the escort, and they rode down the gentle slope of the valley and to the bank of the Mistwater. The Chalsain banner, the black tower on green, flapped from Montigard’s lance. The Mistwater was shallow here, little more than a wide creek, and Hugh saw stones jutting from the water. The river would slow a cavalry charge…but it would do nothing to stop infantry, and would not slow the runedead at all.

  Hugh stared at the southeastern edge of the valley, at the massed force of runedead. He saw living men there, spearmen in chain mail, knights in plate sitting atop their horses. Nearly fifteen thousand men stood with the runedead. How could any man follow a lord who commanded undead? An army of runedead – it was like something from the dark days of Old Dracaryl.

  Hugh shook aside the thought. “Maurus. Now.”

  The master wizard cast a spell. The air in front of Hugh’s face rippled, a buzzing rang in his ears, and then Maurus nodded.

  Hugh stood up in his stirrups and spoke, Maurus’s magic amplifying his words to thunderous volume.

  “I am Hugh of the House of Chalsain, Prince of Barellion and liege lord of Greycoast!” The echoes rang over the valley. “I demand that Malden of the House of Roland, Lord of Knightcastle and liege lord of Knightreach, present himself to me! His armies have unjustly invaded my land. His soldiers have ravaged my villages and spilled the blood of my peasants. I demand that he present himself to me, answer for his crimes, and send his host from my lands!”

  He fell silent, and the runedead and the living soldiers remained motionless.

  Perhaps this had been a bad idea.

  Then Hugh saw a band of horsemen making their way down the slope, the Roland banner flying overhead.

  ###

  Lucan rode behind Lord Malden’s horse.

  He was not entirely certain how to handle this.

  He had convinced Malden to send his runedead host in a single vast wave to destroy the armies of Greycoast. The runedead would smash Hugh Chalsain’s army, and perhaps the battle would generate enough stolen life force to open the Door of Souls. Lucan could then return to Knightcastle and leave Lord Malden to do as he wished.

  And then Prince Hugh had issued that damned challenge.

  “Are you certain this is wise, my lord?” said Lucan.

  “I am the Lord of Knightcastle,” said Malden, “not a common brigand or a ravening warlord. If I am to deal justice to this false Prince, then I will accuse him of his crimes to his face. Perhaps some of his vassals will repent of their crimes and join my righteous mission.”

  “These men are corrupt and wicked,” said Lucan. “They will oppose you to the bitter end.”

  Malden remained unmoved. “Perhaps. Or I may convince Hugh Chalsain to give up his Demonsouled talisman and return to the path of justice. His father was a…not quite a friend, but a friendly enemy of mine, and the House of Chalsain was once a vassal of the Lords of Knightcastle. Perhaps this can be again.”

  And that was that. The black dagger had corrupted Malden…but not even Lucan could push him far enough to kill Hugh Chalsain without first offering parley. And if he pushed too hard, Malden might turn on him, and Lucan needed him until the Door of Souls opened.

  So they rode to the edge of the Mistwater, gazing at the horsemen on the far bank. Prince Hugh sat surrounded by a hundred of his knights, the Chalsain banner flying from his standardbearer’s lance. The Prince had the same curly blond hair and bright green eyes as Malaric, though Hugh did not look nearly as cold and angry as his late half-brother. Yet there was hardness in the young man’s expression, and Lucan realized that Hugh might make a formidable foe.

  But not formidable enough to stop ninety thousand runedead.

  “Lord Malden,” called Hugh. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

  “How could I refuse so gracious a request?” said Malden. “Perhaps you might ride here, that we might have a civilized discussion?”

  Hugh’s smile held not a hint of mirth. “Or you could join us?”

  “I propose,” said Malden, “that we meet in the center of the river. We may each choose one escort.”

  “Agreed,” said Hugh, gesturing to a black-coated master wizard at his side.

  “Lucan,” said Malden, and Lucan followed the Lord of Knightcastle into the Mistwater.

  He gathered power, preparing to cast a spell. If need be, he would kill Hugh and start a battle. The resultant slaughter would gather enough power to open the Door of Souls.

  ###

  Hugh reined up in the center of the Mistwater, the water foaming around his horse’s legs. Maurus settled alongside him, his fingers flexing as he prepared spells in case of any treachery.

  Lord Malden rode into the river. After him trailed another rider, a man wrapped in a heavy black cloak. Hugh caught a glimpse of green light from within the cloak’s hood. Had Malden put a runedead on a horse for some reason?

  Malden stopped a dozen paces away, and Hugh stared at the older man. While he had never spoken with the Lord of Knightcastle, he had seen Malden at tournaments before.

  And, somehow, Malden looked younger. The man was in his late sixties, but he looked about Hugh’s age.

  Gods, he even looked younger than Hugh.

  “My lord Malden,” said Hugh. “You are looking surprisingly well.”

  Malden made a dismissive gesture. “The path of righteousness has rich rewards.”

  “Including renewed youth?” said Hugh.

  Malden offered a thin smile. “So it would seem.”

  “That is curious,” said Hugh, “given that your actions have no trace of justice in them.”

  Malden’s blue eyes narrowed. “You had best explain your impudence. The Lord of Knightcastle does not suffer insults from his inferiors.”

  “Inferiors?” said Hugh. “Is that what gives you the right to invade my lands? Did that give you the right to slaughter my people? I have heard the reports.” He waved a hand at the undead army above the valley. “I know what your pet runedead have done. You have brought fire and war to my lands, and you have do so without right or cause.”

  “I have every right!” Malden drew himself up, his armor flashing in the sun. “I am the Lord of Knightcastle, and the realm is in chaos. Runedead ravage the land, serpent-worshippers creep through the shadows, and Demonsouled lords raise armies and march to war. Only I stand against them.”

  “If you truly want to wage war against the worshippers of the serpent,” said Hugh, “I suggest you keep marching north. You’ll find more servants of Sepharivaim than you’ll know how to handle.”

  “That is why I left Knightreach,” said Malden. “Word reached my ears that Mazael Cravenlock is of the blood of the Old Demon, and Grand Master Caldarus of the Justiciar Order marched east to destroy his evil.”

  “A likely story,” said Hugh. “Knowing the Justiciars, they thought up the lie to justify reclaiming their old estates in the Grim Marches.”

  The cloaked figure turned his head. The face within was gaunt and pale, with unblinking black eyes. The cloaked man wore a black diadem in the shape of a curled dragon upon his brow, the dragon cradling a glowing emerald in its claws.

  Something about that diadem, and that face, scratched at Hugh’s memory. He had seen that man before. But where?

  “I would have marched with Caldarus,” said Malden, “but the Aegonar sent an embassy to Knightcastle, dem
anding my submission. I threw them out, and my advisor,” he nodded at the cloaked man, “discovered that the Aegonar were under the command of Skalatan. An entire nation of San-keth proselytes cannot be left unchallenged. I gathered my army and marched north at once.”

  “And quite an army it is, too,” said Hugh, looking at the cloaked man. The man’s black eyes returned his gaze without flinching, without even blinking, and something in his stare made Hugh’s skin crawl. It was like gazing into the eyes of a dead man. “And what sort of necromancy did you use to bind the runedead to you?”

  “Nothing of the sort,” said Malden. “The runedead were enslaved by Caraster, a rebel and a madman. Once Caraster was defeated, the runedead submitted to me, due to the justice of my cause and my rightful position as liege lord.”

  Maurus snorted, once, and fell silent.

  “So you came with a host of runedead,” said Hugh, “to make war upon the Aegonar. Well and good. I will be blunt with you, my lord Malden. Greycoast is in dire peril, and we would welcome your assistance. We were already weakened from the chaos of the Great Rising, and the Aegonar invasion caught us with my father’s armies scattered. Before he could respond, the Aegonar had seized the northwestern quarter of Greycoast. Then Malaric murdered my father and brothers and claimed the diadem for himself. His ambition and bloodlust were equaled only by his incompetence as a commander, and thanks to his folly, fully half of Greycoast now lies under the control of the High King of the Aegonar.”

  A strange look went over Malden’s youthful face. Regret, perhaps? No – it was sympathy, and Hugh felt a flicker of hope.

  The cloaked man turned his head to look at Malden.

  “The runedead are a blight and a scourge upon the land, but I will not lie to you,” said Hugh. “If you have come to aid us against Skalatan and the Aegonar, then I will not turn away even this…this army of abominations.”

  “Yes,” said Malden, voice quiet. “You are the Prince of Greycoast, and you must do what is necessary to defend your lands and people.”

  “I must,” said Hugh. “And I must also ask you why you have come north to make war upon the lords of Greycoast. Why? We have not made war upon you, or even insulted you. We did not come to your aid against the runedead or Caraster, that is so…but the Aegonar pressed us hard and we had no aid to spare.”

  An instant of confusion flickered across Malden’s face, and then his expression hardened.

  “The shadows are your doing,” said Malden.

  “Shadows? What shadows?” said Hugh. “It’s almost noon. There are no…”

  “The gray shadows, the creatures some have named runeshadows,” said Malden. “They rise from the earth and attack the living, and can only be destroyed through magic. They are your doing.”

  Hugh burst out laughing.

  Malden blinked in surprise.

  “Truly?” said Hugh. “You think I created those shadows? How, pray? I am no necromancer. I am not even a wizard, and none of the wizards in my service practice necromancy.”

  “You created them with your Demonsouled talisman,” said Malden.

  “My what?” said Hugh. “I have no magical talismans, Demonsouled or otherwise.”

  “The skull you took from Malaric,” said Malden. “You allied with the Demonsouled Mazael, slew Malaric, and took the skull of a powerful Demonsouled from Malaric. The skull gave Malaric the powers of a Demonsouled…and now you wield the skull yourself.”

  “For the love of the gods!” said Hugh. “Malaric had such a skull, yes. But when Malaric was slain, Skalatan took it and fled to the Aegonar. I never touched it. Gods, I never even saw the thing. Malaric kept it warded in my father’s old study.”

  He expected rage from Malden, expected a sneering denial.

  Instead he only looked confused, and for an instant Hugh caught a glimpse of a puzzled old man in the youthful face.

  “You…don’t?” said Malden. “But…then where did the shadows come from?”

  “I don’t know,” said Hugh. “Perhaps you could tell me.”

  “The Demonsouled talisman created them,” said Malden. “It has to be.” He shook his head. “It has to be.”

  “My lord,” said Hugh, “I swear to you, I have never seen or used that skull. You have come north for a fight, aye…but you are fighting the wrong foe! The lords of Greycoast have not harmed you or made war upon you. In truth, my lord, we have been so occupied with our own troubles that we have never spared you a thought.”

  Malden’s frown deepened.

  “If you want to rid the world of evil, to fight with the cause of justice,” said Hugh, “then aid us! Ride to war with us against the Aegonar, and help us drive them back into the sea. If that Demonsouled skull is indeed summoning the shadows, Skalatan has it, and only with his defeat will we be free.” He held out a hand. “My lord, please…the world needs you to do this.”

  Malden wavered, and Hugh felt a sudden wild hope. That cloaked advisor had some sort of baleful influence over Lord Malden, that was plain, but if Hugh could gain Malden’s aid…he would not turn it away.

  He would not even turn away an army of runedead. Not when the plight of Greycoast was so desperate.

  Malden wavered, and Hugh held his breath.

  ###

  Lucan realized that he had made a serious error.

  He should not have let Malden agree to this parley. The young Prince of Barellion had proven eloquent, and Lucan saw that his arguments had reached Malden. Another few moments, and Malden would agree to aid Hugh against the Aegonar.

  Lucan could not allow that.

  But could he use it to his advantage?

  For a moment he considered the idea. The Aegonar could not stand against the runedead, and the knights and the black daggers would slaughter thousands of Aegonar warriors. That alone might draw enough life energy to open the Door of Souls.

  Unless Skalatan chose to interfere.

  That possibility concerned Lucan. Skalatan was powerful and subtle, and Lucan did not want to risk a confrontation with him. The archpriest had undoubtedly made plans to stop Lucan and reach the Door of Souls for himself, and Lucan could not permit that. If Skalatan transformed himself into a new god, he would be worse than any of the Demonsouled.

  No, better to destroy the armies of Greycoast and sack Barellion. The runedead could destroy the Prince’s host and take Barellion before Skalatan stirred himself, and then Lucan could unleash the knights with their black daggers. The knights would feast, the Door of Souls could open…and Lucan would return to Knightcastle and enter Cythraul Urdvul before Skalatan could stop him.

  How best to arrange that? Perhaps he should allow Malden and Hugh to reach an alliance, and then stage an act of treachery during the march north. That would turn Malden against Hugh. Lucan’s eyes wandered over Hugh’s party on the riverbank, contemplating various plans…

  He found himself looking at Hugh’s standardbearer, a vigorous-looking knight with curly brown hair and a bushy beard.

  And with a shock, Lucan recognized the man.

  It was Philip Montigard. Years ago, before Mazael had even returned to the Grim Marches, Caldarus had tried to have Lucan assassinated to spite Lord Richard. The assassins had almost overwhelmed Lucan, but Montigard had intervened, and Lucan had used his magic to overcome the Justiciars. After that, Montigard had gone on his way…and apparently had ended up in service to the Prince of Barellion.

  Even as the thought crossed Lucan’s eyes, Montigard’s gaze met his.

  The knight’s eyes narrowed in thought…and then widened in surprise.

  ###

  “My lord!”

  Hugh turned, alarmed, and saw Montigard riding forward, pointing at the black-cloaked figure.

  “My lord, beware!” said Montigard. “It is Lucan Mandragon!”

  “Lucan Mandragon?” said Hugh. “No. Lucan Mandragon is dead. Mazael killed him at…”

  Two facts clicked together in his mind with terrible force.

 
Suddenly he remembered where he had seen the cloaked man’s face before. It had been in at a tournament in the Grim Marches, years ago, when Hugh had still been a squire. He had seen Lucan Mandragon with Lord Richard. It was the same face, though older and harder now.

  The second fact was that Lucan was utterly motionless.

  He was not even breathing.

  “My lord Malden!” said Hugh. “Get away from him, quickly!”

  “What are you talking about?” said Malden.

  “That is Lucan Mandragon!” said Hugh.

  “Yes, I know,” said Malden.

  “You know?” said Hugh. “Do you know what that man has done?”

  “He healed me from a dire illness,” said Malden, “and defeated the rebel Caraster. And with Caraster dead, the runedead now follow me and…”

  “He created the runedead!” said Hugh.

  “I know,” said Malden. “He told me. He raised the runedead to cleanse the world of the Demonsouled.”

  “And what has been the result?” said Hugh, gesturing at the undead atop the valley. “You are at the head of an army of rotting corpses, of horrors raised by necromancy! How many people have died, my lord Malden? How many people have suffered, how many people have seen sons die, daughters die, at the hands of the runedead?”

  Malden flinched, a shadow of grief crossing his face, and Hugh saw that his words had struck home.

  Hugh pointed at Lucan. “What has he made you do? He might have healed you and made you young again…but what has been the cost? My lord, I beg you, ask yourself this. Five years ago, could you have seen yourself doing the things Lucan Mandragon had made you do? Or would you have denounced yourself as a monster?”

  “Silence!” said Malden, yet Hugh saw the grief there. “Silence! I…”

  “My lord, do not listen to him.” Lucan’s voice was cold and dead. “Have I not healed you? Have I not defeated the rebel Caraster in your name? Yes, I worked the Great Rising and raised the runedead to rid the world of the Demonsouled. Yes, there have been…losses, I deny it not. But it will be worth the price. We will rid the world of evil, and you will bring the realm to order…”