Sevenfold Sword: Unity
Page 16
“The Unity gives us harmony, order, and purpose,” said Athadira, “something that humans plainly lack.”
“Plainly,” said Calliande. “The Unity also let the Maledictus of Death lay a plague curse upon you.”
This time Athadira had no ready answer.
“The Sight shows me the aura of the Sylmarus, how it is the core of the Unity,” said Calliande. “When Qazaldhar placed his plague curse upon the tree, that immediately meant the curse spread to every single gray elf connected to the Unity. It’s been killing you ever since.”
“It is a minor setback,” said Athadira. “A cure shall be found. The Sylmarus itself…”
“A minor setback?” said Rhomathar. “Half our kindred have died of the plague curse since Qazaldhar leveled it upon us.”
Athadira glared at him. “The Liberated have recovered from greater losses than that during our history. And it is ill-judged to show dissension in front of outsiders, Lord Marshal.”
“Dissension is one matter,” said Seruna, her exasperation plain, “but facing reality is another, High Augur.”
“And what version of reality is that, Augur?” said Athadira.
“Unless something is done,” said Seruna, “the Sylmarus will die, Cathair Caedyn will fall, and the Liberated will be utterly destroyed.”
“That is poisonous talk,” said Athadira, “and against the consensus of the Unity.”
“The consensus, or your hopes?” said Seruna. “Because the reality is that the plague curse weakens us with every passing day. Even without the plague curse, we would have a hard time holding the city against Nerzamdrathus and his horde. With the plague curse, our defeat is all but guaranteed.”
“Poisonous talk!” said Athadira, but Seruna kept speaking.
“We asked the Sylmarus for help,” said Seruna, “and the Sylmarus gave us a vision of the woman in flames. It also showed us a vision of her and Lord Kyralion either saving or destroying the Liberated…”
Athadira’s eyes all but flashed with anger. “The Augurs agreed to keep the entirety of the vision to ourselves, Seruna! You debase your office by speaking.”
Seruna seemed indifferent to the High Augur’s scorn. “And now Lord Kyralion has brought the woman in flames to us, along with the Shield Knight and the Keeper. Rather against your expectations, I might add. We face disaster on every front, High Augur. I think it is time we consider every option available to us, no matter how much you might dislike the prospect.”
Athadira glared at Seruna, but the other Augur remained unmoved. For that matter, to judge from their expressions, the remaining three Augurs agreed with Seruna. Calliande wondered that she could read their expressions so easily, almost like reading the words written upon the pages of a book. Perhaps with the Unity constantly sharing their thoughts and emotions, the gray elves never bothered to guard their expressions.
Kyralion must have been in intractable riddle to them.
“Perhaps it is time for plain speaking, then,” said Ridmark.
Athadira smirked at him. “Those of us in the Unity have no need of plain speaking, Shield Knight. The entire community of the gray elves knows itself, and consensus is reached at once.”
“A notable achievement,” said Ridmark. “Yet somehow, despite this lack of deception, we have heard differing versions of the vision that sent Kyralion to us. Kyralion said you bid him to find the woman in flames and the Shield Knight and the Keeper. Yet when against all odds he returns to you with the woman of the vision and the Shield Knight and the Keeper, you seem displeased. For that matter, when we spoke with Lord Amruthyr in the ruins of Cathair Selenias, he said that you told Kyralion an incomplete version of the vision, just as Augur Seruna just said.”
“Impossible,” said Athadira. “Lord Amruthyr died millennia ago, defending Cathair Selenias to the last against the hordes of the Sovereign.”
“He did defend Cathair Selenias to the last against the Sovereign’s armies,” said Kyralion, “but he did not die. The Sovereign and the Maledicti twisted Lord Amruthyr’s final spell, and trapped him within it, using his life to sustain the ward. When we came to Kalimnos, the Maledictus of Shadows and the Maledictus of Air warped the spell to use it as a weapon again us, and we had no choice but to enter the ruins and release Lord Amruthyr from his torment. Before he died, Lord Amruthyr bade Tamara to take his staff, and one of his knights gave me his sword and armor.”
Athadira sniffed. “At least that explains how you and your companions came to be clothed in the steel of the gray elves. I should not be surprised that you would stoop to looting the graves of our kindred. But, then, you were never really one of us.”
Again, Calliande saw Third’s eyes narrow.
“Once again, High Augur, we stray from the point,” said Seruna.
“You are right, honored Augur,” said Ridmark. “Why did you not tell Kyralion the entire vision?”
“The role of the Augurs is to guide the Unity,” said Athadira. “We help the Unity to achieve consensus and balance. We also must view the visions the Sylmarus grants us. For the Sylmarus possesses mighty magic, so powerful that it does not perceive linear time in the same way that we do. Often it has glimpses of the future, glimpses that we describe as visions. The Augurs must interpret these visions, for many of them do not make sense to mortal minds, even the minds of the Liberated.”
“Alas, I am not one of the Liberated so this might be beyond my reach,” said Ridmark. Calliande recognized the dangerous glint in his eyes. “The Sylmarus sent you a vision of the Shield Knight and the Keeper, and of Third and Kyralion standing together in a moment that would save or destroy the gray elves. Yet you only told Kyralion and the rest of the Unity of the woman of flames, not of his place in the vision. Perhaps you could explain this mystery to me.”
Athadira drew herself up, gazing at Ridmark with hauteur. “It is the role of the Augurs to explain the Sylmarus’s visions to the rest of the Unity. That was all we chose to share. Our decisions are not to be gainsaid by the rest of the Unity, or by outsiders.”
“Because the vision was dangerous, or because you did not like its contents?” said Ridmark.
Seruna let out a short laugh. “I like him.”
“Enough,” said Athadira. “Whatever we might think of the vision, the Shield Knight and the Keeper and the woman in flames are here. Lady Third, step forward. I would speak with you.”
Third did not move. Her face was cold.
“I can hear you perfectly well from right here,” said Third.
Athadira let out an exasperated sigh. “Very well.”
She strode forward a few paces, her staff tapping against the ground, and stared hard at Third. Third stared right back without blinking.
“You are a dark elf,” said Athadira.
“Half,” said Third.
“Why have you not transformed into an urdhracos yet?” said Athadira. “Whenever the dark elves lay with other kindred, the resultant hybrids inevitably succumbed to their dark elven blood, and were twisted into monsters.”
“I was an urdhracos for nearly a thousand years,” said Third. “Later I was freed of my dark elven blood and became what I am now.”
“Impossible,” said Athadira.
“Perhaps it was,” said Calliande, “but it nonetheless happened.”
Athadira shook her head and stepped back. “Perhaps it did, Lady Third, but you are nonetheless an abomination.”
Third said nothing, but Ridmark tensed.
“You never should have existed,” said Athadira.
“An anomaly?” murmured Third, frowning as if she tried to remember something.
“An elven man should never lie with a woman of lesser kindred,” said Athadira, “and the dark elves were monstrous enough. You never should have been born. You should have been killed before you could become an urdhracos. Perhaps you have freed yourself as you claim, but…” Third remained indifferent, which only seemed to anger Athadira. “You should never have…”
“Do not presume, Shield Knight, to speak of matters of which you know…” started Athadira.
“He is right.”
Kyralion stalked forward to stand next to Third. His expression was usually impassive, but there was no mistaking the anger on his face now. Rilmeira looked at him, a strange mixture of longing and hurt on her features.
“Third is a valiant and brave woman,” said Kyralion. “She crossed half the world to find her friends again. She fought King Justin and the Necromancer, the bearers of the Swords of Earth and Death, without flinching. She walked without hesitation into the trap of Cathair Selenias, and without her, we all would have died. For you to speak to her so brings shame upon the Liberated.”
Athadira said nothing for a moment, her fingers tight against her golden staff. Her chest rose and fell with her breath, and the other Augurs, save for Seruna, shied away from her.
She hated Kyralion, Calliande realized, hated him with vicious intensity.
Had Kyralion done something to her? No, perhaps it was simpler than that. Kyralion was not part of the Unity, which meant Athadira could not read his mind and emotions, could not influence his will towards the consensus of the Unity. His very existence was a challenge to Athadira’s authority as High Augur.
And that was an insult that a woman like Athadira would never forgive.
“Do not ever lecture me,” said Athadira. “Third might be an abomination, but one cannot expect anything better from a creature of the dark elves. But you are a freak.”
Kyralion said nothing, but he did not look away.
“All the other Liberated are joined in harmony within the Unity,” said Athadira. “Not you, though. The greatest creation of our ancestors and you are unfit to become part of it. You should have never been born.”
“Mother!” said Rilmeira, her dismay plain, but the High Augur kept talking.
“It is well that your mother and father died in battle when they did,” said Athadira. “How it would have dismayed them to see what you have become, a constant flaw in the perfection of the Unity, a constant dissonant note in the harmony of our consensus. It would have been better if you had never been born.”
“Mother, stop, please,” said Rilmeira. “This is…”
Still the High Augur kept talking. “Thousands of years of the Unity, and you are the first flaw in it.”
“Other than the plague curse,” said Kyralion.
“As if a freak like you could understand the cost of that curse,” said Athadira. “I had hoped you would die on your quest for the woman of flames. That seemed the kindest fate for something like you, someone who presumed to ask for the hand of the daughter of the High Augur. It would have been better if you had never returned here, if you had perished on your…”
Then Calliande saw something that she had never seen before.
She had known Third for nine years, ever since they had met in the Northerland during the war with the Frostborn. Calliande had seen Third in desperate battle, had seen her sit calmly at dinner, had even seen her smile and laugh a few times.
But she had never, ever seen Third lose her temper before.
It was terrifying. She did not scream or shout, not Third. But the veins throbbed in her temples, her dark eyes widening, and twin spots of color appeared on her usually pale face.
“That is enough,” grated Third.
Her voice was as cold and harsh as the winter in the Northerland, and so threatening that Athadira broke off in mid-tirade.
“Do not interrupt,” started Athadira.
“Be silent,” snapped Third, stepping towards her. A flicker of fear went over the High Augur’s face, as if she thought Third would strike her, and she moved her staff before her like a shield. “When I spoke with Lord Amruthyr, he said I would come to hate the gray elves. I could not imagine why but I understand now. Your Unity has made you into fools. You sit and wallow in the apathy of your despair, bemoaning the fate of your grand civilization rather than trying to save it. The Sylmarus offered you a chance to save your people, and Kyralion was the only one brave enough to take that chance. He crossed a continent and back again in the hopes of saving you, and this is how you greet his return? With scorn and mockery? I see now that Lord Amruthyr was right. Now that I have met you, I do have reason to find you contemptible. If you treat all your brave warriors this way, little wonder your kindred are about to perish from the face of the earth.” Her scornful glare turned towards the other Augurs and Lord Rhomathar. “And you. You permit her to run roughshod over you? You know the one chance you have to save your people, but you stand there and do nothing?”
The Augurs and the Lord Marshal said nothing.
“You dare to…” started Athadira, her voice a little hoarse.
“We have nothing left to say to each other,” said Third. She looked at Ridmark. “I suggest we leave at once and continue our task. There is nothing for us here. It was only ill chance that brought us to Cathair Caedyn. If the Augurs wish to stand and mourn as their final city burns, I so no reason we should stop them.”
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “If we leave now, we should be able to cross the eastern side of the Illicaeryn Jungle before the muridachs arrive.”
“Third,” said Kyralion, his voice soft.
She looked at him, some of the harsh anger fading from her face.
Athadira struck the end of her staff against the ground. The High Augur looked like she was about to explode with rage.
Calliande never did find out what she was going to say.
As one, Athadira, Seruna, Rhomathar, Rilmeira, Arliach, and Nilarion turned and looked to the north, identical expressions of alarm going over their faces.
“What is it?” said Kyralion.
“I fear we are too late,” said Rhomathar. “The sentries upon the walls have just seen the muridach scouts emerge from the jungle.”
Chapter 10: Raiders
Ridmark had already made up his mind to leave Cathair Caedyn.
Arliach and Nilarion had claimed that the Unity joined the gray elves together in equal communication, but it was quite clear that the High Augur Athadira was the true ruler of the gray elves.
And she was clearly a fool.
She was not malicious, but he suspected that she was terrified, both for her people and for her daughter. Inexorable destruction was coming for the Liberated, whether in the form of the muridachs or Qazaldhar’s plague curse, and she was powerless to stop it. So, the High Augur had retreated into brittle pride, reliving the past glories of the gray elves, exalting their achievements even as ruin closed around their final remnants.
He wasn’t sure why she hated Kyralion so much. Perhaps she had been offended at Rilmeira’s obvious love for him. Or maybe his inability to join the Unity was an affront to her pride and position. Perhaps it was simple jealousy – Kyralion Firebow obviously had the respect of the Lord Marshal and the warriors of Cathair Caedyn in a way that the High Augur herself never would.
But it was not Ridmark’s problem to solve. He would help those who wanted aid against creatures of dark magic, but he could not help those who refused assistance. For that matter, he was disgusted by how Athadira had spoken to Kyralion and Third. Kyralion had done nothing to merit such contempt, and Third was a guest.
Ridmark wondered if he could persuade Kyralion to come with them, but he doubted it. Kyralion had undertaken his mission to find Third to save his people. He would not abandon them now, not in the hour of their final extremity. He would die with them, fighting under a leader who detested him.
Kyralion deserved better, but he had made
his choice.
Then all the gray elves looked to the north with alarm, and a cold feeling closed around Ridmark.
Perhaps Kyralion would not be the only one to die in Cathair Caedyn.
If the muridachs moved fast enough and encircled the city, Ridmark and the others might find themselves trapped here.
“How many muridachs?” said Ridmark.
“We do not yet know,” said Rhomathar. “The sentries upon the north wall have seen them…”
“And the western, eastern, and southern walls,” said Seruna, her voice hard. “Scouts upon kalocrypts. They seem to be massing below the northern wall.”
“They will try to strike at once, hope to take us off our guard,” said Athadira. She looked at the other Augurs. “Come. Our spells will be needed in defense of the ramparts.”
The other Augurs moved to follow Athadira as she strode from the Court of the Sylmarus. Arliach and Nilarion fell in behind the Augurs, but the Lord Marshal and Rilmeira remained behind
“Mother,” said Rilmeira.
“Come, Rilmeira!” snapped Athadira, stopping to glare at her daughter.
Rilmeira planted her feet and did not move. Ridmark was reminded of a petulant daughter rebelling against her mother, but there was an echo of Athadira’s steel in her face. The High Augur shook her head in irritation and stalked away, the other Augurs following.
Rilmeira and Rhomathar shared a look.
“Lord Ridmark,” said Rilmeira. “I…I apologize for my mother’s harshness. She bears a great burden of responsibility, and…”
“She does,” said Kyralion, “but she had no right to speak that way to Third.”
“She had no right to speak that way to you!” said Rilmeira.
Kyralion shook his head. “She has been speaking that way to me all my life. Shouting, usually.”
“Rilmeira is right,” said Third, her voice controlled again. “She has no right to speak to you that way.”
Rilmeira and Third looked at each other, and some silent agreement seemed to pass between them.
“Perhaps we can discuss this later,” said Rhomathar. “More urgent matters press.”