Sevenfold Sword: Unity

by Jonathan Moeller

  He attacked, sweeping Oathshield around, and opened the throat of the nearest muridach berserker. The creature stiffened and collapsed to the ground, thrashing as it choked on its own blood, and Ridmark stepped past it to kill a second. A third muridach leaped at him, only for Magatai’s arrow to land in its throat.

  By then Tamlin, Calem, and Krastikon were past him. The three bearers of the Seven Swords ripped into the muridachs like a knife through butter. Krastikon went first, his shield flickering with purple light, and he deflected and avoided the strikes of the berserkers. Tamlin and Calem came next, moving with speed and skill, and the blurring blades of the Swords of Air and Earth left slain muridachs in their wake.

  Then Ridmark broke through and stood at the base of the ramp. A pair of berserkers came at him, and Ridmark parried, deflecting the blows of their axes against Oathshield’s blade. He sidestepped, dodged around another blow, and brought Oathshield hammering down, burying the soulblade in the nearest muridach’s skull. Using the augmented strength the soulblade granted, Ridmark wrenched the blade free in a spray of blood and turned to face the second muridach.

  The creature started to bellow, but then a green sword flashed and took off its head. Tamlin did not slow, and his second swing severed two of the four bronze hooks holding the ramp to the battlements. Calem got the other two, and the ramp fell back against the tower with a scream of stressed hinges.

  “Good work!” said Ridmark, looking at the battles raging along the western side of the northern wall. A dozen more siege towers had made it to the ramparts, muridachs pouring down the ramp.

  They had done well against the first tower, but there was far more to do.

  And the ram crawled ever closer to the gate.

  ###

  Tamara threw another sphere of lightning, aiming for the siege tower.

  Or more specifically, at the bronze ramp attached to the tower.

  A score of spells related to controlling the magic of elemental air had swum to the surface of her mind after the attack of the siege ramp, and Tamara used those spells now, throwing her powers into the battle against the muridach horde. With the staff of Lord Amruthyr, she could strengthen her attacks with magical lightning, and she had figured out a way to amplify her spells further.

  Bronze conducted lightning quite well.

  The whirling sphere of lightning struck the ramp and exploded into dozens of crawling fingers of blue-white light. The dozen muridachs packed onto the ramp thrashed and jerked as the lightning stabbed into them, and three of the creatures lost their balance and fell to their death.

  A half-dozen more perished when the gray elven archers sent a volley of arrows into the muridachs at close range. Tamara was drawing together power to strike again when the Augurs cast their spell. A bolt of lightning screamed out of the sky and hit the tower, blasting its top third to smoking kindling. The bronze ramp went flying, spinning over and over, and landed with enough force to decapitate two muridachs running up the hill.

  Hundreds more rushed past the decapitated ratmen, converging on the towers remaining against the wall.

  Next to Tamara stood Calliande, both hands grasping her staff, purple fire playing along its length. The Keeper threw spells of elemental magic, far stronger than Tamara could manage even with the golden staff. She conjured sheets of sleeping mist that rolled over the muridachs on the ramps, and they fell unconscious to their deaths. Or Calliande cast spells of elemental fire that exploded across the tops of the siege towers, setting them ablaze. For all the time and effort that Calliande devoted to healing magic, she could cause a tremendous amount of destruction when she put her mind to it.

  On Tamara’s other side Kalussa used the Staff of Blades, sending a steady stream of crystalline spheres in all directions. Once the towers had reached the walls, she had changed her focus, attacking the individual muridachs instead of the towers themselves, and the crystal spheres punched through the creatures and their armor without slowing.

  Any other army, Tamara thought, would have broken and fled under the force of the defense. The gray elves and their Augurs alone were formidable, and with the aid of the Shield Knight and the Keeper and their allies, they were devastating. How many muridachs lay slain outside the walls of Cathair Caedyn? Thirty thousand? Maybe even fifty thousand?

  It hardly mattered. That was barely a tenth of Nerzamdrathus’s army.

  And the ram was almost to the gates.

  The housing was so tall that it almost reached the battlements. Had Tamara wanted, she could have jumped from the ramparts and landed atop the thick, bronze-plated planks of the housing without injury. That would have been foolish. The hazy dome of shadow and blue light writhed and swirled around the ram, and Calliande said that jumping onto it would be like throwing yourself against a stone wall. A few of the archers had loosed arrows at it, only for the shafts to shatter. One of the bolder gray elven wizards had thrown a bolt of fire at it, only for the blast to hurtle back at him. The unfortunate wizard had barely gotten out of the way in time.

  A shudder went through the rampart beneath Tamara’s boots.

  The ram’s housing had crashed against the gate.

  Another band of muridachs emerged from a nearby siege tower, and Tamara focused her attention on them, hurling another sphere of lightning that knocked the creatures from the ramp. She started to draw together power for another spell, focusing her will on the tower.

  The ramparts heaved beneath her.

  Tamara staggered forward a step, planting the end of her staff against the ground to keep her balance. A tremendous crashing noise filled her ears.

  “What the devil was that?” said Tamara.

  “I don’t know,” said Kalussa, looking around. “I think…”

  There was another shuddering jolt, another ringing crash.

  “That is the ram striking the gates,” said Calliande. “They’re about to break through.”

  ###

  Tamlin cut another muridach warrior in half and turned, intending to bring the Sword of Earth to bear against the bronze hooks of the ramp.

  But he saw that there was no need. Krastikon and Calem were already there, slicing through the hooks with ease. The ramp shuddered and fell to slam against the side of the tower, and the gray elven swordsmen cut down the few remaining muridachs.

  Tamlin stepped back to catch his breath, blinking the sweat from his eyes. Another tower, they needed to take down another tower. There were still too many of the damned things against the walls. Worse, the muridachs were starting to carve footholds into the ramparts. Too much longer, and they might be able to secure large sections of the wall. If that happened…

  A booming clang rang over the city, and the wall shuddered beneath Tamlin.

  “What was that?” said Calem, looking at the sky.

  “The ram,” said Ridmark, his voice grimmer than usual. “They’re at the gates. We need to go to the northern square. If we’re going to hold them off, we’ll do it there.”

  Tamlin nodded and followed the Shield Knight as he ran along the ramparts.

  A peculiar sort of icy calm settled over him.

  Tamlin realized that he was almost certainly about to die. They were in a trap from which there was no escape. The fact did not daunt him, and he even felt at peace.

  He had found Tysia again.

  Tamlin just wished he could have unraveled the mystery of the New God, could have freed his mother and learned her secrets.

  Perhaps he would have a shot at taking the head of that damned Great King or the wretched Qazaldhar before this was over.

  ###

  Ridmark came to a stop in the northern square and saw that the defenders were already gathering behind the gates of golden metal. The five Augurs were there, along with Lord Rhomathar and the most powerful wizards of the gray elves. All the reserves stood in lines through the square, swordsmen in front, archers behind. Calliande, Kalussa, and Tamara stood with the Augurs, staring at the gate. The doors themselves wer
e dented from the hammering of the ram, and even as Ridmark looked, another boom rang out, another dent appearing in the reinforced doors.

  They bulged open a crack, and through it, Ridmark saw muridach berserkers waiting to strike.

  “Why are the Augurs here?” said Ridmark as he joined Calliande. “They should move to a safer location.”

  Athadira must have overheard him. “This is our home, Shield Knight. We shall not quail from its defense.”

  “The gates are about to break,” said Calliande. “If our most powerful wizards strike when they do, we can hold the muridachs back for a little while longer.” She hesitated. “Has Third…”

  Ridmark shook his head. “The Sight has shown you nothing?”

  “No,” said Calliande. “I don’t even know where she is.”

  Ridmark nodded as the ram boomed again. He supposed this was the end. Perhaps the Augurs and Lord Amruthyr both had misinterpreted their visions. It seemed that their visions had not shown the possible salvation of the Unity and the gray elves, but their final destruction. Maybe hope had infected their interpretation, hope beyond hope that somehow the tide would turn.

  But it would not, and Ridmark and his wife and his friends would die here with the gray elves.

  He looked at Calliande and saw the same realization in her eyes. Tamara reached out and took Tamlin’s right hand. Kalussa and Calem were staring at each other. Ridmark regretted that he had brought them here, regretted that he had led them to their deaths, but he could not see what he could have done differently. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

  The ram boomed, and the doors screeched.

  “One more hit, I think,” said Rhomathar, lifting his sword. “Be ready!”

  Ridmark took a deep breath and raised Oathshield. When the fighting grew fiercest, when they were about to be overwhelmed, he would unlock the power of the Shield Knight. Perhaps Nerzamdrathus or Qazaldhar would be foolish enough to lead the assault in person, and Ridmark could cut them down, weakening the muridach host before it turned north to Owyllain.

  The doors exploded open, and the muridachs charged screaming into the square.

  The wizards answered at once, lightning and fire and ice screaming through the gate and into the charge. Hundreds of muridach warriors died in the blink of an eye, but hundreds more rushed forward. And as they did, Ridmark heard a distant roaring sound, a roar that was getting louder.

  Tens of thousands of muridachs were cheering, and they were charging for the broken gate and the remaining siege towers. The final defense of Cathair Caedyn was about to be swept aside in a wave of muridach fury.

  Ridmark charged to meet the enemy, Oathshield drawn back to strike.

  Chapter 18: Blood of the Dark Elves

  It was like walking through an empty blood vessel.

  The strange tunnel led deeper into the heart of the Sylmarus. Third walked in front, Kyralion and Rilmeira behind her. She felt an overwhelming urge to draw her swords, which was ridiculous. There couldn’t possibly be any enemies inside the tree.

  But the sense of danger would not leave her.

  The tunnel’s walls were smooth, unmarked living wood. It reminded Third of some of the natural caverns of the Deeps, tunnels created over the millennia by the flow of water. It was cool and dry within the tunnel, and in the distance, she heard a steady pulsing, drumming sound.

  Like a heartbeat.

  Veins and fingers of that gentle green light glowed in the walls and the ceilings, providing ample illumination as the tunnel turned and twisted deeper into the Sylmarus.

  “Something is strange,” said Rilmeira.

  “Unquestionably,” said Kyralion.

  “No,” said Rilmeira. “I mean…the Sylmarus is huge. But we’ve already walked much farther than should have been possible. At least a mile. The Sylmarus isn’t that large.”

  “No,” said Third. “Magic is at work here.” She thought for a moment. “Rilmeira. When the Sylmarus summoned you, what did it say?”

  “It just said that the time had come,” said Rilmeira. “That I needed to find Kyralion and bring him to you. Ah…what did the Sylmarus say to you?”

  Third shook her head. “Many things. I did not understand most of them. It said that the moment had come to save or destroy the gray elves, that I would have to face the darkness within myself. I do not know what that means. Presumably it thinks that I will need you both to help me.”

  “It is a great honor,” said Rilmeira in a soft voice. “The Sylmarus has only ever spoken to the Augurs.”

  Third let out a breath. “Then perhaps the Sylmarus could have warned the Augurs about the muridachs sooner. Or about Qazaldhar and his plague curse.”

  “I suppose that is the entire reason I am here,” said Rilmeira. “The Sylmarus could not speak directly to Kyralion, since he is not part of the Unity…”

  KYRALION.

  Third froze. It was the same voice as before, but far louder. For that matter, she heard it with her ears, not inside of her skull.

  Kyralion looked around uncertainly. “Did…I just hear that?”

  “I think we all did,” said Third.

  “It is the voice of the Sylmarus,” said Rilmeira, fresh awe in her expression. She reached out a tentative hand and touched the smooth wall of the tunnel.

  YES. I HAVE WAITED LONG FOR ONE LIKE YOU, KYRALION.

  “Why?” said Kyralion. “I am not part of the Unity. I have always been outside of it.”

  BECAUSE AN OUTSIDER IS NECESSARY. THE UNITY HAS CRIPPLED YOUR PEOPLE. THEY CANNOT ACT OUTSIDE THE CONSENSUS OF THE UNITY. THEY LOOK NOT OUTSIDE THE BOUNDARIES OF THE ILLICAERYN JUNGLE. THE UNITY IS FLAWED, AND ITS FLAWS HAVE WEAKENED YOUR PEOPLE.

  “If the Unity was flawed,” said Third with some asperity, “then why did you create it?”

  BECAUSE I KNEW NOT THAT IT WAS FLAWED. BECAUSE WITHOUT THE UNITY, THE SOVEREIGN WOULD HAVE DESTROYED THE LIBERATED LONG AGO. I KNEW THE WOMAN IN FLAMES WAS COMING. I KNEW SHE WOULD HAVE THE POWER TO SAVE OR DESTROY THE UNITY. BUT I KNEW SHE NEEDED A GUIDE. SHE NEEDED SOMEONE OUTSIDE THE UNITY, SOMEONE ABLE TO IGNORE ITS CONSENSUS.

  “Me,” said Kyralion. “Then what must we do?”

  SOON YOU WILL COME TO THE HEART OF THE UNITY. THERE THE WOMAN OF FLAMES WILL DECIDE YOUR FATE. BUT FIRST, SHE MUST FACE HERSELF.

  “Why?” said Third, irritated. “If you want to save the gray elves, then let me pass without the damned games.”

  I CANNOT. IT IS IN THE NATURE OF THE MAGIC AROUND THE HEART. YOU MUST FACE YOURSELF. I AM SORRY FOR THIS ORDEAL, BUT YOU MUST FACE IT.

  “And what must I do?” said Kyralion.

  YOU MUST SAVE HER.

  Third waited, but there was no further speech from the Sylmarus.

  “Riddling talk,” she muttered. She gave an irritated shake of her head. “Let us keep going. If the Sylmarus can offer any aid against the muridachs, better to find it sooner rather than later.”

  She led the way forward, the tunnel twisting and turning through the great tree. The green lights in the walls grew brighter, and the strange sound of the heartbeat became louder. The heart of the Unity? What did that mean?

  Third didn’t know, but she suspected that she was about to find out.

  The tunnel sloped downward, and then widened. It opened into a vast hall of living wood, the walls gnarled and knotted. Green light glimmered and shone within the wood, and Third looked around.

  “If there was an empty space this large within the Sylmarus,” said Third, “the tree would have collapsed long ago.”

  “The Sylmarus has great magic,” said Rilmeira.

  The heartbeat grew louder, sounding almost like the beat of the muridach war drums.

  “Plainly,” said Third. “We…”

  Everything went black.

  Third froze. Her first reaction was annoyance. Was the Sylmarus going to amuse itself by playing games with the lighting? Yet not everything had gone dark. Third lifted her hands and found that she could see herself just fine.
She still felt the floor beneath her boots.

  “Kyralion?” she said.

  There was no answer in the darkness, the echoes of her voice fading away.

  Third took a step forward, and another voice came from behind her.

  “There is no one here to help you, daughter.”

  Every inch of Third’s skin crawled with revulsion, and she whirled.

  A dark elven lord stood a dozen yards behind her.

  He was over seven feet tall, his face pale and stark, his eyes filled with a bottomless void. He wore blue dark elven armor, like Ridmark’s, but far more ornate and adorned with silver reliefs. A winged helm of blue dark elven steel protected his head, and a black cloak had been flung back from his armored shoulders. A longsword of the same blue metal rested in his right hand, and shadows and blue fire twisted around the fingers of his left hand.

  She knew him. She knew him as well as she knew herself, and the sight filled her with hatred as hot and searing as molten steel.

  “Mara killed you,” spat Third.

  The dark elven lord who had once been known as the Traveler laughed at her. “Death has no hold over me, daughter. I am a god! And I am your lord and master!”

  “You are not a god!” snarled Third. “You were a fool with delusions of grandeur and you are dead, you have been dead for ten years!”

  This had to be a trick. Some damned trick of the Sylmarus. Yet it looked so real. And the hatred for the man who had tormented her for all those years exploded through Third’s head like a storm.

  The Traveler’s mirth turned to rage faster than a sane mind could have managed. “You are mine, daughter. You were always mine! Now fall to your knees before your god!”

  His song exploded through her thoughts. Her mind interpreted the aura of a powerful dark elven lord as a song, and the Traveler’s song echoed through her, beautiful and horrible, wondrous and terrible.

  And to her horror, Third felt it start to drown out the song of her own blood, felt her knees start to buckle.