Sevenfold Sword: Unity

by Jonathan Moeller

  Calliande froze as the thunderclap echoed through the chamber, and she reached for the Sight and sent it towards the flames. She saw the lingering currents of elemental magic that had produced the explosion, accompanied by the flare and flicker of a dozen spells. Half of them were elemental magic, and the other half were dark magic.

  Dark magic? How had wielders of dark magic gotten past her? Alarmed, she sent the Sight sweeping towards the north, and she spotted a dozen wielders of dark magic moving through the city. They had the now-familiar aura of priests of the Lord of Carrion.

  The Deeps, she realized. The subterranean levels of the city must extend to the Deeps, and the muridachs moved through the caverns of the Deeps with ease. Muridach warbands must have entered the subterranean levels of Cathair Avamyr through the night.

  All this flashed through her mind in an instant.

  “My lady?” said Kalussa, hurrying to her side. “Did you see that?”

  “Yes,” said Calliande, blinking as she concentrated on the Sight and their surroundings at the same time. “I’m not sure…but I think someone is fighting the muridachs.”

  She turned and looked back at the others. Most of them had been awake already, but the sound of the explosion had roused those who had still been sleeping. “We need to go. Krastikon, Calem, get the scutians ready to move. And make sure each of you is carrying a pack with food. If we’re pursued, we might have to leave the scutians behind.” Calliande would dislike leaving the pack scutians to be consumed by the muridachs, but the poor lizards could only move so fast.

  The others scrambled to obey, and Ridmark ran up the stairs to the library, taking them two at a time, Third and Kyralion behind him.

  “The explosion,” said Ridmark. “Elemental magic?”

  “Aye,” said Calliande. “I think the muridachs are fighting someone. I don’t know who.”

  “It is possible,” said Kyralion, “that the muridachs are fighting the Liberated. Some of my kindred have the magical power to unleash an explosion of that size, and they might have sent scouts north to watch the progress of the muridach hosts.”

  “Should we aid them?” said Calliande.

  “Maybe,” said Ridmark. “How the devil did the muridachs get into the city? If they came through the northern gate, we should have seen them.”

  “Probably the Deeps,” said Calliande. “We saw the underground galleries of Cathair Valwyn beneath Aenesium, and those opened to the Deeps…”

  “And there were muridach warbands in there,” said Ridmark, voice grim.

  “Maybe we should withdraw through the northern gate and circle around the city,” said Third. “If we are drawn into a fight in the streets, we could be surrounded and trapped.”

  “I think it’s too late for that,” said Tamlin, pointing out the northern window. “Look!”

  Calliande crossed to the window. The library chamber was high enough to see over the city’s northern wall. That meant she could see the dust cloud rising on the northern horizon, along with the dark mass drawing closer to the city.

  “One of the muridach armies,” said Ridmark.

  “They will have kalocrypt scouts out,” said Magatai. “We will not be able to leave the northern gate without drawing their attention.”

  “The southern gate, then?” said Tamlin.

  Calliande didn’t like that thought. They needed to go northeast, not south. Yet it seemed they had little choice. Trying to leave Cathair Avamyr through the northern gate would be suicide, as would attempting to leave the city through the caverns of the Deeps. Those tunnels would be swarming with muridachs, and the ratmen would have the advantage in the caverns.

  It seemed their only option was to retreat through the city’s southern gate.

  “I don’t think we have any other choice,” said Calliande.

  “Agreed,” said Ridmark. “Let’s move. And if Kyralion’s kindred need aid, we’ll help them. Perhaps we can fight our way out of the city together.”

  ###

  Ridmark stepped into the street outside the tower, Third at his left and Tamlin at his right. There was another flash of red light to the south, followed by a thunderclap, and Ridmark heard the distant clang of sword against shield.

  There was a battle raging on the streets nearby.

  “We had better hurry,” said Calliande, looking towards the square before the northern gate. “I think there are a group of muridach priests heading for the gate.”

  “They will almost certainly have a guard of soldiers, perhaps even berserkers,” said Magatai.

  “Then let’s not wait here to meet them,” said Ridmark, drawing Oathshield. A flicker of white fire ran up the blade. Ridmark wasn’t sure if it was reacting to the dark magic of the muridach priests or the aura of ancient magical power around the ruined city in general. “Follow me.”

  He led the way from the tower, heading east around the base of the city’s next tier. Ridmark’s eyes swept over the crumbling towers and houses, but nothing moved in the ruins, though he knew that would not last. With a muridach army approaching from the north and fighting to the south, Ridmark and the others had found their way into the eye of the storm. It had happened by accident, but he feared that storm was about to wash over them.

  Kyralion had been ready to depart to aid his kindred against the muridachs. Ridmark was beginning to fear they would have to go with him, simply because they could not withdraw in any other direction.

  Ahead, the street turned south.

  Ridmark went around the corner and found himself looking at a battle.

  Nearly twenty men in either leather armor or the golden armor of the gray elves stood in the center of the square. The men were gray elves, with pointed ears and eyes of gold or silver or purple, and they wore gray cloaks identical to the one that hung from Ridmark’s shoulders. The elves in leather armor carried bows, and the ones in metal armor bore swords. Both swords and bows were augmented with soulstones, whether they had been forged of bronze or of gray elven steel, and flames and lightning and icy mist crackled around the weapons.

  Nearly two hundred muridachs surrounded the gray elves, attacking in waves. The gray elves fought back, unleashing burning arrows and attacking with their soulstone-augmented swords, cutting down any muridach that drew too close. One of the gray elves stepped forward. His armor was more elaborate than the others, and he wore a winged helm. The gray elf gestured, casting a spell, and a fireball exploded in the middle of the muridachs, throwing a dozen of them into the air.

  Yet the creatures continued their attack, and Ridmark saw that the gray elves would soon be overwhelmed.

  “Friends of yours?” said Ridmark.

  “Yes,” said Kyralion, though he did not elaborate. “We must aid them.”

  “We shall,” said Ridmark.

  “There are only a hundred and fifty of them,” said Magatai, setting an arrow to his bowstring. “That will prove little challenge.”

  Krastikon snorted. “I would hate to see what you would find a challenge, sir.”

  “Let’s see if Magatai is right,” said Ridmark, and he strode forward, lifting Oathshield.

  ###

  “You take the right,” said Calliande, “and I’ll take the left. You can avoid the gray elves?”

  Tamara nodded, holding her golden staff with both hands as she drew upon her magic.

  “What should I do?” said Kalussa.

  “Kill as many of the muridachs as you can,” said Calliande, purple fire starting to crackle down the length of her staff. “If you see any berserkers, priests, or Throne Guards, focus on them. They’ll be the most dangerous.”

  Kalussa took a deep breath, the blue crystal at the end of the Staff of Blades shifting and crackling.

  Tamara held her power ready as Ridmark, Tamlin, Calem, Krastikon, Kyralion, and Third walked towards the square. Magatai rode behind them on Northwind, his bow ready. For a moment neither the muridachs nor the gray elves noticed the newcomers, and then the muridachs start
ed to turn in alarm.

  “Now!” said Calliande, striking the end of her staff against the ground.

  Tamara released her own spell a half-second later, forcing the earth magic through Lord Amruthyr’s staff. Her magic was strong, though it wasn’t anywhere near as strong as Calliande’s. Yet with the staff to focus and augment her power, Tamara could affect nearly as large an area as Calliande.

  That came in handy now.

  Calliande’s spell sent a distortion through the left side of the broad square, knocking the muridachs from their feet. Tamara’s spell went through the right side, knocking over the ratmen but leaving the gray elves untouched. The gray elves hesitated in astonishment, and Ridmark and the others charged forward. The Shield Knight struck down two muridachs in rapid succession, and Tamlin and Calem and Krastikon and Third proved no less effective. Magatai started sending shafts into the ratmen, killing with every shot. Kalussa threw those deadly spheres of crystal from the Staff of Blades, the impact blasting apart muridach skulls.

  Kyralion came to a stop, raised his bow, and loosed arrow after arrow, his hands a blur. He shot down muridach after muridach, sending the creatures dead to the ground. The gray elves gave a shout and charged into the fray, driving back the ratmen.

  Tamara started casting a new spell. She sent another distortion through the ground, knocking the muridachs from their feet so the gray elves and her friends could strike. Then she conjured a brief curtain of acidic mist, wounding and stunning the ratmen.

  “Firebow!”

  Tamara blinked. One of the gray elves had shouted that, looking at Kyralion. For his part, Kyralion gave no response but kept loosing arrows into the muridachs. The gray elf in the winged helmet, the one who had cast the powerful fireballs, looked at Kyralion and grinned.

  “Firebow!” he called, and he cast another spell. A sphere of fire shot from his armored hands and landed amid the muridachs. The sphere exploded in a bloom of flame, killing a half-dozen ratmen.

  The gray elves cheered, shouting “Firebow,” and charged into the battle. Tamara cast spell after spell, as did Calliande, and Ridmark and Tamlin and the others carved their way through the muridachs. In an instant, the defense of the muridachs collapsed, and the creatures whirled and began fleeing from the square, pouring down the street to the south.

  “Should we pursue them?” called Krastikon, pulling the Sword of Death from a slain muridach.

  “No!” said Ridmark. “No, hold! If we chase them, they’ll lure us into an alley, and we’ll be finished. No, let them go.”

  Tamara lowered her staff and caught her breath as the muridachs fled.

  The gray elves looked at her and the others. Tamara had to admit that it was an unsettling feeling. The gray elves all had such intense eyes, gold and silver and purple. They weren’t immortal, and to the best of Tamara’s knowledge, the gray elves lived about a thousand years or so before death claimed them. Yet she felt the weight and age in their gaze, and she knew that the gray elves were far older than she was.

  The gray elf leader pulled off his winged helm. He had brilliant silver eyes and thick black hair, his features sharp and alien. For all that, he looked harsh and grim, with deep lines cut into his face and dark shadows beneath his eyes. He took a few steps forward, staring at Kyralion.

  Then the hard face relaxed in a smile.

  “Kyralion Firebow,” said the gray leader.

  “Arliach,” said Kyralion. “It has been a long time.”

  “Aye, too long, my friend,” said Arliach. “It is good to see you, but I hope you have some good news for us.”

  Kyralion looked back at Ridmark and Third. “I might at that.”

  Chapter 6: Fallback

  Third looked at the gray elves, unable to contain her curiosity and seeing no reason to try. For all the time that she spent thinking about Kyralion, she knew little about the gray elves. The stories she had heard were contradictory, and Kyralion often had trouble articulating himself about his kindred. He always answered her questions, but some of the concepts of the Unity or the society of the gray elves did not translate into either the orcish or the Latin tongues.

  But Third had centuries of experience assessing targets, and right away she noticed several strange things about Arliach and his gray elven warriors.

  First, she was reasonably sure that they were all sick, every single one of them.

  Kyralion was a vigorous man, able to travel and fight from dawn until dusk without stopping for a rest, and that strength showed in his face and his posture. The same could not be said of the rest of the gray elves. Kyralion’s face was tanned and a little weathered. The gray elves looked pale, not from the lack of sun, but from exhaustion and illness. All of them had the same deep lines and dark shadows beneath their eyes as Arliach.

  For that matter, as Arliach drew closer, Third noted the veins beneath his skin. They were turning black as if they were rotting, and many of the other gray elves had black veins visible on their faces and hands. Was that a sign of Qazaldhar’s plague curse?

  The second strange thing she noticed was the silent communication.

  The gray elves kept glancing at each other as people did when having a conversation. Third recognized the familiar movements of face and eye, and the gray elves looked like men discussing momentous news. Yet they were utterly silent. Third was certain they were communicating without speech. Her first thought was that they were using some sort of hand code, yet their hands remained grasping their weapons.

  Were they communicating through magic? The Magistri of Andomhaim could converse in silence and across long distances using their mindspeech spell. Were the gray elves doing something similar?

  Third glanced at Calliande and saw the Keeper staring at the gray elves with a frown on her face. Calliande saw her looking, and Third walked to join her.

  “Noticed it too?” murmured Calliande in a low voice.

  “They are communicating without speech,” said Third.

  “They are,” said Calliande. “There is a spell linking all of them. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. It’s like the mindspeech spell of the Magistri, but far, far more complex and profound. It’s…” She frowned. “It would be almost like they share the same mind.”

  “Is this the Unity?” said Third.

  “Perhaps,” said Calliande. “But if it is, the spell has been twisted. There is a necromantic taint to it, one that is poisoning these gray elves.”

  “Qazaldhar’s plague curse?” said Third.

  “I don’t know,” said Calliande, “but it seems likely. Come. Perhaps we can learn more.”

  Third nodded and followed the Keeper as she walked to join Ridmark, who had come to stand next to Kyralion.

  “You have found powerful friends, Firebow,” said Arliach in accented Latin. He seemed genuinely glad to see Kyralion, a warrior pleased to have found a comrade in a dangerous place. Third had thought Kyralion a pariah or an outcast, yet given his skill and bravery, it would have been strange for the warriors of the gray elves to reject him. Perhaps it was the leaders of the gray elves who did not like Kyralion, while the warriors admired him.

  “I have,” said Kyralion.

  “For unless I am wrong,” said Arliach, “you have three of the Seven Swords with you.”

  “You are not wrong, my friend,” said Kyralion. “This is Ridmark Arban, the Shield Knight of Andomhaim. His wife Calliande, the Keeper of Andomhaim. Sir Tamlin Thunderbolt, the bearer of the Sword of Earth. Sir Calem, the bearer of the Sword of Air. Prince Krastikon Cyros, the bearer of the Sword of Death. Lady Kalussa Pendragon, the bearer of the Staff of Blades. Tamara of Kalimnos. Magatai of the Takai nomads.” Magatai offered a grand bow from Northwind’s saddle. “And Lady Third of Nightmane Forest.”

  Third stepped closer, feeling Arliach’s silver eyes upon her. The other gray elves remained silent, though they kept glancing at each other. Third suspected that Kyralion’s introduction had stirred them up. Not surprising, given that
the last time three of the Seven Swords had been in the same place had been before Kothlaric Pendragon’s imprisonment at Cathair Animus.

  “And this is Lord Arliach of the Illicaeryn Jungle,” said Kyralion, “a wizard and a ranger of the Liberated.”

  “I am pleased to meet you all,” said Arliach, his eyes upon Third. “But if you found the Shield Knight and the Keeper as the Augurs said…then is she…”

  “Yes,” said Kyralion. “Lady Third is the woman of blue flames from the vision. She is also a most brave and honorable woman.”

  Arliach glanced at the other gray elves. Again, Third had the impression of unseen communication passing between them.

  “Perhaps in deference to the urgency of the situation, Lord Arliach,” said Calliande, “we should restrict ourselves to the spoken word.”

  His eyes snapped to face her. “You can hear the Unity?”

  “No,” said Calliande. “But the Keepers of Andomhaim possess the gift of the Sight. I can see the links of magic that bind you together. All of you, that is, except Kyralion, who has always said that he is not part of the Unity.”

  Arliach let out a breath. “The Augurs said that the Keeper would be powerful. In truth, I feared that Lord Kyralion would never return from his task, that the Augurs had sent him away because he made them look…” He scowled and shook his head, perhaps in answer to an unseen question. “Regardless, we have more urgent matters to discuss.”

  “Yes,” said Ridmark. “Such as what we should do next.”

  “Agreed,” said Arliach. “But first…Lady Third is truly the woman in blue flames?”

  “She is,” said Kyralion. “She is the one from the vision.”

  “But she is not one of our kindred,” said Arliach, his bafflement plain. “She is…”

  “A dark elf,” said Third, and she felt a little satisfaction as the gray elves blinked in unison. “Half human, half dark elf.”

  “A hybrid,” said Arliach. “But that is impossible. If you were a hybrid of a human and a dark elf, you would have transformed into an urdhracos long ago.”