The old woman stopped before Third.
“You are the one,” said the old woman.
“I am sorry?” said Third.
“You are the one from the vision of the Augurs,” said the old woman. “The one who will save us or destroy us.”
Third opened her mouth, closed it, and found her voice. “I do not understand how. I do not desire to destroy anyone, but nor can I see how I can save you. Until an hour ago, I did not even know that this city existed.”
“Have mercy upon us,” said the old woman. “We do not deserve it, for we sought to become more than we are. But, please, remember us.”
With that, she bowed and stepped back. Third stared at her for a moment, then shook her head and joined Ridmark.
“What do they expect of me?” whispered Third, her voice half-annoyed, half-bewildered. “What do they want of me? Calliande is the one who can heal people, not me.”
“I don’t know,” said Ridmark. “Perhaps the High Augur will tell us more.”
They left the square and entered the street. Ridmark suspected the Court of the Sylmarus would be a square at the foot of the mighty tree. As they drew closer, more details of the huge tree became apparent. It was a beautiful tree, tall and strong, and the light of the green veins shining beneath the bark seemed somehow calming, soothing. Yet the signs of blight grew more apparent with every step, the strange tumorous growths clinging to the trunk marring the beauty of the great tree. Had a forester of Andomhaim seen a tree with a blight that extensive, he would have recommended that his lord cut down the tree and use it for firewood.
“It is grievous, isn’t it?” said Calliande in a quiet voice.
“Hmm?” said Ridmark, shaken out of his thoughts.
“Do you remember when we traveled through the redwood forest south of Castra Chaeldon for the first time?” said Calliande. Ridmark nodded. “I wondered why the road wound its way around the trees.”
Ridmark shrugged. “Cutting down those trees would have been more work than just digging the road around them.”
“Aye,” said Calliande. “And it would have seemed…obscene, would it not? To kill something so old and beautiful and strong just for a road? I don’t know what the Sylmarus is, Ridmark, but I think it is old. Maybe older than anything else in the world. And Qazaldhar blighted and poisoned it to strike at his enemies.”
“Another crime to lay at his door,” said Ridmark. “It…”
“Kyralion!”
It was a woman’s voice, strong and musical, and it was filled with joy.
Ridmark turned his head as a gray elven woman emerged from one of the houses and ran towards them. She had thick golden hair and eyes the wrong shade of blue to be human. Like all the other gray elves, she had a sharp, alien face, with pointed upswept ears. She was wearing the golden armor of the gray elves, and Ridmark supposed she must have been a wizard with enough magical skill to be dangerous in battle.
She ran across the street and caught Kyralion in a tight embrace.
A brief look of resignation flickered over Third’s face.
“I was so frightened,” said the woman, stepping back as Kyralion eased out of her grasp. Ridmark could not quite read his expression, but he thought Kyralion looked regretful, perhaps even sad. “Mother said you would never return, but I knew better. I knew you would come back. And you found them, didn’t you?” She beamed at him. “You found the Shield Knight and the Keeper and the woman in flames, didn’t you? I knew you would.”
“Yes,” said Kyralion, gesturing. “This is Ridmark Arban the Shield Knight, and Calliande Arban the Keeper of Andomhaim.” One by one he introduced the others. “And this is the woman in flames, Lady Third of Nightmane Forest.”
The gray elven woman and Third looked at each other.
Then the gray elven woman smiled, though she looked a little frightened.
“My name…my name is Rilmeira,” said the woman. “Thank you for helping Kyralion to come home. I…I was very frightened that he would not return.”
It was difficult to gauge the age of gray elves, but Ridmark thought that Rilmeira was young, at least by the standards of the Liberated.
“He has been a great help to us,” said Third. “I doubt we would have survived this long without his aid.”
“I am glad, Lady Third,” said Rilmeira. “I would have gone with him when the Augurs sent him to find you, but they forbade it…”
“Your mother also forbade you from speaking with me,” said Kyralion. He took a deep breath. “It was for the best, Rilmeira. We both know it.”
“I know,” said Rilmeira. “I know.” The sadness was obvious for a moment, and then she pulled herself together. “But a wizard of the Liberated may greet one of the scouts when he returns. And especially when the scout brings such illustrious guests.”
Arliach and Nilarion looked at her, and Rilmeira scowled at them. Ridmark found it annoying to be surrounded by conversations he could not hear. No wonder Kyralion seemed so aloof at times. Though it was fascinating to watch the play of expressions on the faces of the three gray elves. They could communicate without speech, but their expressions reflected their emotions nonetheless.
“Is the High Augur your mother, Lady Rilmeira?” said Calliande.
Ridmark blinked in surprise, and the three gray elves broke off from their silent argument and looked at her.
“She is, my lady,” said Rilmeira. “How did you know?”
“An intuition, let’s say,” said Calliande.
“And if your mother is the High Augur,” said Ridmark, “perhaps we should not keep her waiting.”
Arliach and Nilarion looked at Rilmeira again.
“I am accompanying them to the meeting,” said Rilmeira, though she looked at Kyralion as she spoke. “It is my right.”
“Perhaps we should not keep the Augurs waiting,” said Ridmark.
Arliach took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, you are right. This way, please.”
Chapter 9: Unity
Calliande considered Kyralion, Rilmeira, Arliach, and Nilarion as they walked south, the white houses of Cathair Caedyn rising around them and the Sylvanus towering above like a living mountain.
She had been involved in many negotiations with numerous lords and knights and kings, and Calliande thought she saw the situation here. Rilmeira was in love with Kyralion. Even with the alien nature of the gray elves, Calliande had seen the adoration on Rilmeira’s face, and a flicker of the same emotion on Kyralion’s stoic features. Except the High Augur had forbidden her daughter from spending any time with Kyralion, and the High Augur had also apparently lied about the contents of her vision to Kyralion. Calliande wondered how close Kyralion and Rilmeira had been. Perhaps he had courted her, or whatever the equivalent custom was among the gray elves.
Had the High Augur sent Kyralion to pursue the vision of the woman in flames simply to get him away from Rilmeira? It seemed like a petty thing to do.
Calliande looked at Third, but her face gave away nothing.
A short time later they came to the Court of the Sylmarus.
It was a huge round plaza in the heart of the city, the ground unpaved and covered in grass. The massive bulk of the Sylmarus’s trunk rose from the earth, as thick and as tall as the great towers of the Citadel itself in Tarlion. The green light shone over everything in a gentle glow, making the tumorous black growths all the more hideous by contrast.
At the edge of the roots stood six gray elves, one man and five women. The man looked older and wore elaborate golden armor, a sword at his belt, a winged helm tucked under his arm. His dark eyes roved over them, and he smiled when he saw Kyralion.
The five women did not smile.
All of them were in the gray elves’ equivalent to late middle age, and all five of the women wore sleeveless blue robes, golden torques of rank wrapped around their left arms. Calliande’s Sight flared to life, and she saw the intricate web of the Unity around the five women. Each of the gray elven women would be a
powerful wizard.
The woman in the center wore a more elaborate robe than the others, and a golden chain of office hung around her neck. In her right hand, she carried a staff that looked like Tamara’s, but far more ornate and topped with a round, jeweled headpiece. Her face was gaunt, even by the standards of the gray elves, and she had thick golden hair bound beneath a diadem and brilliant blue eyes. She looked like an older, harsher version of Rilmeira.
This, most likely, was the High Augur.
Her intense eyes met Calliande’s, and the gray elven woman’s lips thinned a little. Calliande had the overwhelming impression that the High Augur did not like her. No, that was too specific. Calliande suspected the High Augur did not like the presence of humans within Cathair Caedyn, and that she was unhappy about the return of Kyralion. Even as the thought crossed Calliande’s mind, the High Augur glared at Rilmeira, who turned a defiant look toward her mother. Three of the other Augurs looked anxious. The fourth, an older woman with brilliant white hair, merely looked exasperated.
The gray elven man in golden armor approached, and Arliach and Nilarion offered him a bow.
“Lord Arliach,” said the older man. His voice was hard and raspy. “You have news, I see.”
“Aye, lord,” said Arliach. “Lord Marshal Rhomathar, Kyralion has returned and fulfilled his charge from the Augurs. The Shield Knight and the Keeper are here, as is the woman of flames from the vision of the Sylmarus.”
“I see,” said Rhomathar. “Lord Kyralion?”
“Lord Marshal,” said Kyralion, “I have the honor to present Ridmark Arban, the Shield Knight of Andomhaim. His wife Calliande Arban, the Keeper of Andomhaim. Sir Tamlin Thunderbolt, the bearer of the Sword of Earth. Lady Kalussa Pendragon, the bearer of the Sovereign’s Staff of Blades.” Some of the Augurs looked surprised at that, though the High Augur’s gaze remained flinty. “Sir Calem, the bearer of the Sword of Air. Prince Consort Krastikon Cyros, the bearer of the Sword of Death. Magatai of the Takai halflings.” Magatai offered a florid bow from Northwind’s saddle. “Tamara Earthcaller of Kalimnos.” Kyralion took a deep breath. “And Lady Third of Nightmane Forest, the woman from the vision. She is the woman of flames.”
Neither the Augurs nor Rhomathar spoke.
“It has been my honor,” said Kyralion, “to have been their companion in many adventures. They defeated Justin Cyros and took the Sword of Earth, and they also slew the Necromancer and stopped him from unleashing a plague of undead across the world.”
The High Augur’s lip twisted. “Human problems, created by humans.” Her voice was musical and clear and cold as winter.
Again, the white-haired Augur rolled her eyes. The other three Augurs gaped at her in surprise.
“You have a thought, Seruna?” said the High Augur. “Please, by all means, share it with our guests.”
“Only this,” said Seruna. “The Sovereign created the Seven Swords, at least to the best of our knowledge. The Seven Swords will be instruments of the rise of the Kratomachar. The Sovereign was our problem long before the humans came to this world. Rather than bringing human problems to our doorstep, I rather think the humans have brought our problems home to us.”
The two women stared at each other. Calliande had the impression they did not like each other very much.
“Well,” said the High Augur, turning away from Seruna and the other Augurs, “let it not be said that the Liberated lack in courtesy. I am Athadira, and it is my honor to serve as the High Augur of the Unity of the Liberated. Seruna, it seems, has already introduced herself, as has our Lord Marshal.” One by one she introduced the other three Augurs, who bobbed in quick, polite bows.
“Lady Third is the woman from the vision,” said Kyralion. “I am certain of it. And Lord Ridmark is the Shield Knight and Lady Calliande is the Keeper.”
“So I see,” said Athadira, taking a step forward. “Yes. The Shield Knight bears a weapon of high elven power. A potent one. The Keeper is linked to one of the Wells, and…yes, she bears a mantle of alien magic, one inimical to this world. Likely it was fashioned upon the world humans originated from, this Old Earth.”
“That is correct,” said Calliande. “You possess the Sight, my lady?”
The High Augur’s smile was condescending. “Of course I possess the Sight, Keeper. How else can the Augurs interpret the visions of the Sylmarus, the glimpses the Sylmarus gives us of the future?” She waved a hand at the city. “We are the heirs of fifteen thousand years of the tradition of the Liberated, and before that, one hundred thousand years of high elven history. You stand in an ancient civilization, Keeper of Andomhaim, one a thousand times older than your Andomhaim.”
“Of course,” said Calliande. Her initial reaction was amusement. She had been to Cathair Solas, the last city of the high elves, had seen the city soaring through the air at the command of its residents. She had spoken with Ardrhythain, the last archmage of the high elves, and had seen him unleash powers that could scatter armies and shatter mountains. Compared to that kind of power, that bombast of Athadira’s boasts seemed comical.
But mockery and contempt rarely proved useful.
“Could you tell me more of the Unity, High Augur?” said Calliande. “I have rarely seen such a potent feat of magic.”
“The Unity was the salvation of the Liberated,” said Athadira. “If you have traveled through Owyllain, you have heard the history of it. No doubt Kyralion managed to relate some of that history to you in his clumsy and inept way.” Third’s eyes narrowed for just a moment, and Seruna rolled her eyes again. “But you will hear now the true history of the Liberated, Keeper of Andomhaim, the history of the kindred that your kind so ignorantly name the gray elves. And then you will understand that the elves of the Unity need no assistance.”
“Of course, High Augur,” said Calliande. “I am most interested in learning that history.”
“You know we came to this land to escape from the urdmordar,” said Athadira. “Once we cast off the restrictions of the threefold law of the high elves, we were free to grow in ways that the high elves could not. When we arrived in this land, we located the Well of Storms and built Cathair Animus to tap and control its magical power. Using that magic, we built mighty cities and raised tall towers, and built a civilization to exceed that which the high elves raised before the coming of the shadow of Incariel…”
“Pardon, High Augur,” said Calliande, “but did not the archmage Ardrhythain of the high elves appoint Rhodruthain the Guardian of Cathair Animus?”
Athadira let out an irritated breath. “He did. More accurately, he named Rhodruthain the Guardian of the Well of Storms. The archmage Ardrhythain was too timid to cast aside the constraints of the threefold law, but he still wished to exert control over the Liberated, even as we left to create a new realm. Rhodruthain’s task was to make sure that the power of the Well of Storms within Cathair Animus was never misused.” She gave an annoyed shake of her head. “Rhodruthain was a fool. He still is a fool. If we had used the power of the Well as a weapon, we could have annihilated the Sovereign. Rhodruthain is the one who brought you here, is he not?”
“He is,” said Calliande.
Athadira snorted. “He is mad. He brought you here as part of some scheme or another to defend the Well. Ridiculous. No mere humans can stand before the power of the Kratomachar. The elves of the Unity shall save the world, or it cannot be saved. It was a waste for Rhodruthain to bring you here.”
“Before you can save the world,” said Ridmark, “I suppose you will have to save yourselves.”
Athadira smiled at him, like a teacher smiling at a slow pupil. “I do not expect you to understand. Humans are incapable of taking the view of the centuries as the Liberated can.”
“You were telling me of the founding of the Unity?” said Calliande.
“Our civilization prospered and flourished,” said the High Augur, turning her gaze back to Calliande, “but the Sovereign followed us, for he was jealous of our power. Our war
riors were valiant, and our wizards powerful, but the Sovereign used treachery and trickery to overcome us. Finally, we lost control of Cathair Animus, and Rhodruthain refused to allow us to use the Well of Storms, the treacherous craven. At last, we were driven to the Illicaeryn Jungle, and here we found the Sylmarus.” She gazed at the huge tree.
“What is the Sylmarus?” said Calliande. “I suspect it is rather more than a large tree.”
“Obviously it is more than a large tree,” said Athadira with asperity, “much, much more. It is an ancient and powerful being, the last of a kindred older than both the high elves and the dragons themselves. Once there were thousands of such trees, but now the Sylmarus is all that remains. When the surviving Liberated gathered in the Illicaeryn Jungle, we petitioned the Sylmarus for aid, and in its wisdom and mercy, it granted our petition. With the magic of the Sylmarus, we created the Unity, and raised the Liberated to new heights of strength and wisdom.”
“What precisely is the Unity?” said Calliande.
Athadira’s smile turned condescending once more. “Beyond human comprehension, I fear. It is the highest achievement of the Liberated, and the greatest feat of magic wrought in the history of this world.”
“On the surface,” said Calliande, “I would say that it is a shared mind, a link. I can see the web of power joining the gray elves to each other.” Athadira’s smile faded. “It must let you communicate without the need for speech or for even words. I saw Lord Arliach and his men fight. They moved in perfect speed and harmony. Little wonder you have held the Illicaeryn Jungle against all foes for so long.”
“The harmony of the Unity makes our warriors into an unbeatable fighting force,” said Athadira.
“It does,” said Calliande, “but the Unity is also killing you.”
Athadira smiled again. “I fear it is beyond your comprehension.”
“It enforces a consensus,” said Calliande. “It’s hard for any gray elves to disagree from a course of action. You forbade your daughter from greeting us, and I saw how hard it was for her to challenge that.” Rilmeira shifted.
Sevenfold Sword: Unity Page 15
