Mask of Swords

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Because,” said Sigaldra, “Earnachar is stronger, and his support is more valuable than mine. Because the Tervingi are more numerous than the Jutai, and their loyalty is more important than ours. Because you are strong and can do as you wish. Because,” she blinked a few times, her hard expression unyielding, “why wouldn’t you take our lands?”

  It had not occurred to her, Adalar realized, that Mazael might not be her enemy. It seemed Sigaldra saw only two kinds of people outside of the Jutai – those who were threats, and those who might one day become threats. Given all the foes and dangers that the Jutai had survived to reach Greatheart Keep, perhaps it was surprising that Sigaldra wasn’t more paranoid than she already was.

  “I am not going to strip the Jutai of their lands,” said Mazael. “You’ve lived peacefully, and you’ve come at my call when I summoned you to war.”

  Sigaldra said nothing for a while.

  “I see,” she said at last. “Then Earnachar is acting without your knowledge?”

  “Earnachar son of Balnachar likes to do as he pleases,” said Mazael. “As I am sure you know already. He supported Ragnachar’s rebellion, and since I settled him and his men at Banner Hill, he has taken every opportunity to increase his lands and his prestige. Earnachar has made no secret of the fact that he thinks that a Tervingi should be hrould of the Tervingi nation, that the Tervingi should never have sworn to me.”

  “Then he is a fool,” said Sigaldra. “You defeated the Tervingi at Stone Tower and again at Swordgrim. If the Tervingi had kept fighting you would have killed them all.” She did not sound displeased at the prospect.

  “He’s ambitious,” said Mazael. “That often drives men to folly. So. Petty raids and sabotage. All things he can deny, and all tactics designed to put pressure on you. He doesn’t dare do more. An open attack upon Greatheart Keep would bring my anger down upon his head. He can’t simply kill the Jutai, he needs to coerce them. So he…ah.” He pointed at Sigaldra. “He’s trying to force you to marry him.”

  Sigaldra let out a bitter little laugh. “Earnachar hates me too much for that. I could have half the lands in the western realm, and he would still refuse to wed me. Not that I would accept the odious scoundrel in any event. No, he wants to marry my younger sister Liane.”

  “You oppose the match, I take it?” said Mazael.

  Her glare was like a living thing. “I will cut Earnachar’s throat myself before I allow Liane to wed him.”

  “Your sister feels the same way?” said Mazael.

  “She does,” said Sigaldra.

  “Very well,” said Mazael, seeming to come to a decision. “Tell me. Have you seen or heard anything of spiders lately?”

  Both Vorgaric and Talchar looked puzzled, but Sigaldra flinched as if slapped.

  “Spiders?” she said. “I…don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “I suspect you do,” said Mazael. “I think that it is time we talked, you and I. Alone, but within bowshot of your archers upon the walls.” He swung down from the saddle. “My men will wait here, as shall yours. If there is any treachery, they may shoot me dead.”

  Sigaldra lowered her face for a moment, thinking. She did not look to Vorgaric or Talchar One-Eye for advice, Adalar noted. She would make up her own mind.

  “Very well,” said Sigaldra. “Let us talk.”

  “Wait here,” Mazael told the others, and he and Sigaldra walked along the base of the wall.

  ###

  Sigaldra remained tense. She seemed like a loaded crossbow, ready to go off at any moment. Or like a bowstring drawn back so far that sooner or later it would snap.

  In fact, she reminded him a great deal of Molly when Mazael had first met her. Certainly Sigaldra seemed to carry the same load of grief and pain that focused into rage and hatred. For all that she was indeed a lovely young woman. Had Mazael not been wed, had he been younger and stupider, he would likely have seduced her. He had always liked women with blue eyes. A dark whisper in the back of his mind, the same whisper that sometimes spoke of blood and death and carnage, urged him to do just that.

  He ignored it.

  “What do you know about the soliphages?” said Mazael.

  Sigaldra looked up at him. “The spider-devils?”

  Mazael nodded.

  “There were some in the forests southwest of our old homes in the middle lands,” said Sigaldra. “They were very dangerous. They can change shape and form, and sometimes take the appearance of beautiful women to lure foolish men to their deaths. They drink the lives of their victims, and some of them cast magical spells. Weapons of steel can harm them, but they put up a tremendous fight before they go down.” She shuddered. “We passed through their forests on our way to the Grim Marches. Many fell victim to their webs. I have heard no rumor of the creatures here.”

  “A few days ago,” said Mazael, “I killed one in the village of Castyard.”

  “Truly?” said Sigaldra.

  “Aye,” said Mazael. “The soliphage seemed to be commanding a large band of valgasts. They had tunneled beneath the village, drugged everyone, and were dragging them to the caverns of the underworld when I arrived.”

  “Blood of the ancestors,” muttered Sigaldra. “How many were killed? Sir Edmund Crowhand did not deserve that. He has been a good neighbor.”

  “Not more than a dozen,” said Mazael. “Mostly older men and women who did not recover from the valgasts’ drug. Had we come along a day later, it would have been much worse.”

  “Is that why you asked me about spiders?” said Sigaldra. “Because of the soliphage?”

  “Partly,” said Mazael. “A few days earlier in Cravenlock Town, one of Earnachar’s swordthains tried to assassinate me.”

  Sigaldra’s thunderous scowl returned. “There is your proof that he is a black-hearted villain.”

  “That was my thought as well,” said Mazael. “But I happened to cut open one of the swordthain’s men during the fighting.” No need to tell her about Romaria’s Sight – Romaria’s reputation was already uncanny enough. “He had a spider coiled around his heart.”

  “A…spider?” said Sigaldra. “Surely it must have been part of his innards?”

  “I have seen the innards of enough dead men to tell the difference,” said Mazael. “The spider was about the size of his fist. It seemed to be controlling him. The swordthain was looking for new recruits, as it were, and had a fresh supply of spiders to use.”

  “That is grotesque,” said Sigaldra. “Surely this is proof that Earnachar is trafficking with those who practice dark magic.”

  “Perhaps,” said Mazael. “When I mentioned spiders, you flinched. You had heard something about them.”

  “I had never seen a spider of the nature you describe,” said Sigaldra. “I have seen a soliphage, yes, but not since the Jutai left the middle lands.”

  “Yet you know something,” said Mazael. “What is it?”

  Sigaldra hesitated. “A holdmistress must look to the defense of her people.”

  “And you think telling me about the spiders will put your people at risk,” said Mazael.

  “It will,” said Sigaldra.

  “It is also the task of a hrould to look to the defense of his people,” said Mazael, “or a lord to protect his vassals. For you are both Sigaldra, holdmistress of the Jutai, and Lady Sigaldra of Greatheart Keep. And I am the Lord of the Grim Marches and the hrould of the Jutai. If Earnachar has been stirring up mischief against you, if he has allied himself with the soliphages or worse creatures, I will put a stop to it.”

  “I do not trust easily,” said Sigaldra.

  “Nor do I,” said Mazael. “So let us make a bargain, you and I. You may ask anything of me and I shall give you a true answer…but you must in turn do the same, and I will never speak of this conversation to anyone.”

  Sigaldra hesitated. For just a moment, there was the tiniest crack in her cold mask. She was still young, and she had borne heavy responsibilities for years. Surely she would ac
cept some help, no matter how grudgingly. Even if she did not, Mazael would not tolerate his vassals disturbing the peace of the Grim Marches. If Earnachar was attacking her, Mazael would put a stop to it.

  And if Earnachar had allied himself with the soliphages or a darker power…well, that blood-drenched whisper in Mazael’s head had wanted to kill Earnachar from the moment they had met.

  That voice wasn’t always wrong.

  “You could just command me,” said Sigaldra.

  “Willing cooperation is more reliable than coercion,” said Mazael. “Ragnachar and Toraine Mandragon found that out the hard way.”

  “And you killed them both,” said Sigaldra.

  “I killed Ragnachar,” said Mazael. “Lucan Mandragon killed Lord Toraine. Nevertheless, you see why I am not eager to follow their examples.”

  Sigaldra barked a short, harsh laugh at that. “Very well. Ask me what you will, hrould.”

  “The spiders,” said Mazael. “How did you know of them?”

  “I just learned of them today,” said Sigaldra. “My sister Liane…she has visions.”

  “Visions?” said Mazael.

  “The Tervingi would call it the Sight,” said Sigaldra. “My people believe the ancestors bestow their wisdom upon her.” She shrugged. “I do not know which explanation is true, and I do not care. I do know that Liane’s visions come true. She said today a great warrior would come to Greatheart Keep, a man who stood at the heart of the storm, which can only be you. The visions are exhausting, and often cause her to collapse. But before she fell unconscious, she said she saw spiders everywhere. I thought perhaps she imagined it, or saw something that she did not understand. But after the things you told me, I believe she may have seen your spiders. That is why I was startled when you mentioned them.”

  “Perhaps my wife can help,” said Mazael. “She, too, has the Sight.”

  Sigaldra blinked and looked at Romaria, who watched them from the back of her horse. “She does? Why would you tell me this?”

  “I said I would tell you the truth,” said Mazael. “And most of the lords of the Grim Marches already think my wife is a wolf-demon that feeds upon human flesh during the full moon.”

  “Is she?” said Sigaldra.

  “No, but I wouldn’t make her angry,” said Mazael.

  “It is my turn for a question,” said Sigaldra “Why are you here? I assume Earnachar’s men attacked you, and you came west to make war upon him?”

  “No,” said Mazael. “The knight upon the horse, next to Lady Romaria?” Sigaldra nodded. “That is Lord Adalar Greatheart.”

  “Greatheart?” said Sigaldra, and her eyebrows came together in a deeper frown. “He gave his name to the village?”

  “He did,” said Mazael. “Or his family did, rather.”

  “Then that is why you came here,” said Sigaldra, her words bitter. “To strip away our lands and give them to this knight.”

  “No, it is not,” said Mazael, annoyed at her presumption. Still, after everything the Jutai had endured, he could not fault her caution. “That is Adalar, Lord of Castle Dominus in Mastaria, a vassal of Lord Gerald Roland of Knightcastle. His father Sir Nathan held Greatheart Keep as a fief from my brother. Sir Nathan was a good friend of mine, and he died a few months before the Tervingi and the Jutai arrived in the Grim Marches. His final wish was that Adalar take his ashes and inter them in the keep’s chapel. Adalar intended to come, and I intended to go…but then the Tervingi arrived, and you know what happened next.”

  “Then you are simply here to bury Lord Adalar’s father?” said Sigaldra.

  “Aye,” said Mazael.

  “Does not Lord Adalar wish to claim his father’s lands?”

  “No,” said Mazael. “Adalar has wide lands in Mastaria, far richer and larger than the fief of Greatheart Keep. Under the laws and customs of the Grim Marches, a son must do homage to his father’s lord to receive his father’s land, and Adalar swore to Lord Gerald, not to me. So the land was mine again, and I gave it to the Jutai.”

  “Then you came here,” said Sigaldra, puzzled, “simply to…bury this man’s ashes? That is all?”

  “That is all,” said Mazael. “Does that surprise you so much?”

  “It does,” said Sigaldra.

  “Did not the Jutai carry the urns of their ancestors all the way from the middle lands?” said Mazael.

  Sigaldra had no ready answer for that.

  “That was my intention, at least,” said Mazael. “But then I fought my way through a valgast raid, Skuldari bandits attacked Adalar on the road here, those spiders infested Earnachar’s men, and a soliphage led an attack upon Castyard. Some evil threatens the Grim Marches, and by the gods I will crush it. Now it is my turn for a question.” Sigaldra nodded. “Tell me what you know of Earnachar. When did the trouble begin?”

  “About three months ago,” said Sigaldra. “He was always a truculent and unwelcome neighbor, and made no effort to hide his disdain for the Jutai. Yet fear of you kept him in line. Then his pet sorceresses came to Banner Hill, and started pouring their poison into his ear.”

  “Sorceresses?” said Mazael.

  Sigaldra shrugged. “Or priestesses. Or both. The rumors say both. They accompanied him to Greatheart Keep when he made his threats the last time.”

  “What do they looked like?” said Mazael.

  “Two of them wore hooded black robes, and I could not see their faces,” said Sigaldra.

  “Like the soliphage in Castyard,” said Mazael. Could Earnachar have truly been stupid enough to ally with the soliphages?

  Of course, if the soliphages were responsible for the spiders in Agaric and the others, Earnachar might not have had much choice in the matter.

  “The third, then,” said Mazael. “You saw the third?”

  “Aye,” said Sigaldra. “She called herself the Prophetess.”

  Mazael blinked. “The Prophetess? Are you sure of that?”

  “I heard it with my own ears,” said Sigaldra.

  “What did she look like?” said Mazael.

  “Young,” said Sigaldra. “Maybe about thirty. Red hair and green eyes, very pale skin. I suppose most men would find her comely.”

  Mazael recalled no one who looked like that.

  “You know her?” said Sigaldra.

  “No,” said Mazael. “But at Gray Pillar I fought and killed a valgast wizard…”

  “Vrokul,” said Sigaldra.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “A vrokul,” said Sigaldra. “That’s what the valgast wizards call themselves. They’re not really wizards, though they know spells. They worship a goddess called Marazadra, and try to capture sacrifices in her name.”

  “That…makes sense,” said Mazael. “The…vrokul, you say? The vrokul at Gray Pillar spoke of someone named the Prophetess. The Skuldari worship some goddess or another. This goddess could be the unifying factor behind our recent troubles. Perhaps your Prophetess is a priestess of Marazadra, and the Skuldari, the valgasts, and the soliphages all worship her.”

  “And they converted Earnachar?” said Sigaldra. “Earnachar is too much of a Tervingi to follow a soliphage goddess or work with valgasts.”

  “I doubt they converted him,” said Mazael. “Perhaps he simply thinks to use their power.”

  “Fine,” said Sigaldra, crossing her arms over her mailed chest. “What do you think is happening, hrould?”

  He considered how much to tell her. Mazael had promised to tell her the truth, but that did not mean he had to tell her all of the truth.

  “What do you know of the Old Demon?” he said. “The creature the Tervingi named the Urdmoloch?”

  “A great evil,” said Sigaldra. “Ragnachar and his pet orcragars worshipped him. Wait. I should have mentioned this as well. Earnachar has an orcragar with him, a man named Rigoric who wears a peculiar mask wrought in the shape of miniature sword blades.”

  “I banished all the surviving orcragars from the Grim Marches under pain of death,” sai
d Mazael. “Earnachar and I shall have much to discuss. But we wander from the main point. What else do you know about the Old Demon?”

  “The loresingers said he was ancient and evil beyond the capacity of man to grasp,” said Sigaldra. “That he was the father of all the Demonsouled, and he wandered the earth working woe and misery.” She looked him in the eye. “That Lucan Mandragon was his servant – and that you slew the Urdmoloch on the last day of the Runedead War, the day the runedead were destroyed.”

  “I did,” said Mazael.

  “Preposterous,” said Sigaldra.

  “I told you,” said Mazael, “that I wasn’t going to lie to you.”

  She said nothing for a moment, a muscle working in her jaw. “Fine. You slew the Urdmoloch. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “The Old Demon was subtle and patient,” said Mazael. “He spent years corrupting Lucan into an instrument of his will. Before that, he spent thousands of years siring generations of Demonsouled, unleashing them upon the world to wreak havoc and grow strong so he could kill them and devour their strength. He spun plots and plans that no mortal could comprehend. And I think some of those plots were pacts he laid upon the Skuldari, the valgasts, and the soliphages.”

  Sigaldra’s frown deepened. He suspected that she always frowned, but this time it had more puzzlement than anger. “Why would he do that?”

  “To use them as his servants, most likely,” said Mazael. “The realm of Old Dracaryl that your ancestors fought in ancient days? He raised up the high lords of Dracaryl and then arranged their destruction once they had served his purpose. Or perhaps he wanted them out of his way so they could not interfere with his plans. Or maybe he simply did it to be cruel. He enjoyed cruelty.” The Old Demon could have simply destroyed Lucan, but he had made sure the wizard had known the depths of his folly before the final death. Of course, that cruelty had turned upon him in the end. Had he simply killed Mazael, he would have had victory. Instead he had made sure Mazael would suffer…and that had undone everything.

  “Do you have any proof for that?” said Sigaldra.