Facing them stood Kalussa Pendragon, her arms folded over her chest, a scowl on her pretty face.
Tamlin had only met her a few times before, and he did not like her. She was pretty enough that he would have had no objection to sleeping with her, but that would have meant putting up with her tongue and temper, which was not worth the trade-off. She plainly thought that her royal blood, combined with her status as a Sister of the Order, gave her the right to command. In truth, Tamlin thought, she was only the daughter of one of King Hektor’s concubines, and only her talent for fire magic gave her any right to be here at all.
Fortunately, he doubted any of the men would accept her as commander.
That didn’t stop her from trying.
“We cannot fall back to Aenesium,” said Kalussa. “We all know that King Justin is getting ready to throw his army against the walls of our city. If we leave Castra Chaeldon in the hands of Archaelon, Justin Cyros will be able to march unhindered to my father’s gates.”
In a less serious situation, Tamlin might have amused himself by counting how many times Kalussa managed to mention “my father” in a conversation, but the matter was too urgent for games.
Besides, Tamlin agreed with her.
“What could we do against Castra Chaeldon?” said Aegeus. “We have no siege equipment and no Arcanii with powerful earth magic. We inflicted heavy losses on the orcs, yes, but just as many escaped behind the castra’s walls. God alone knows how many undead horrors Archaelon has summoned up.”
“Many.” Kalussa shuddered a little. “And he has a Maledictus with him. Lord Ridmark and I saw a Maledictus leading undead to the castra.”
“But many of our hoplites are imprisoned inside the castra,” said Tamlin. “We cannot abandon them.”
“Nor should we,” said Aegeus. “But we may not have the power to help them. We do not have the equipment for a siege, and we do not even have the supplies. What could we accomplish save to starve to death outside the walls?”
“Perhaps you are both right,” said Parmenio. “Maybe it would be better to return to Aenesium and obtain reinforcements, and then march back to attack Archaelon.”
Tamlin shook his head. “There’s no time.”
Kalussa raised her blond eyebrows. “And just why not, Sir Tamlin?”
“Because,” said Tamlin, “we only have seven days until the moons are in the proper configuration to augment spells of necromancy. Lady Calliande thinks that Archaelon will try some a great spell of necromancy then.”
“Lady Calliande,” said Kalussa, glancing to where Calliande stood speaking with her husband. “Are we sure we can trust her?”
“She saved my life,” said Tamlin, irritated.
“And the lives of several of my men,” said Aegeus. “They would be dead now or dying in agony, if not for her magic. Aye, her tale is outlandish, I will admit. We all thought Andomhaim perished beneath the claws of the spider-devils long ago.” His expression darkened. “And if Rhodruthain brought them here…yes, that is the sort of trickery and treachery that the Guardian of Cathair Animus employs.”
“And it makes logical sense,” said Parmenio. “Why take captives? Captives must be fed and housed. And guarded, especially when they are fighting men. Archaelon must intend to kill them in a necromantic spell.” He shook his head. “He was always…odd, yes, but it is hard to believe that he has betrayed his Order, his King, and God Himself by turning to necromancy.”
“And in the service of a wretch like Justin Cyros,” said Kalussa.
Once again Tamlin found himself in agreement with Kalussa. It was a disquieting feeling.
“But I wonder at that,” said Tamlin. “When Archaelon threw those orcs at us, he said he was betraying us in the name of King Justin. Yet those are the Confessor’s soldiers we fought. The Confessor must have sent them, but perhaps Archaelon betrayed him.”
“But the Confessor wants to claim all the Seven for himself as well, do not forget,” said Kalussa. Was she capable of speaking without condescension? “It would please him to no end if Justin destroyed my father, or if my father destroyed the traitor. Then the Confessor could fall upon the weakened victor and claim both the Sword of Fire and the Sword of Earth for himself. To the Confessor’s heartless mind, that outcome would be well worth the cost of a few hundred orcish soldiers.”
“Maybe Archaelon has betrayed them both,” said Aegeus. “A man must be mad to turn to necromancy, so maybe he is mad enough to try to set up his own kingdom. Maybe he thinks to set up a realm of the undead and rule over it.”
“Or perhaps he is in the service of the Necromancer of Trojas,” said Parmenio. “Someone had to teach him necromancy. Or maybe the Masked One of Xenorium. This is exactly the sort of cunning stratagem that the bearer of the Sword of Shadows prefers.”
“No,” said Kalussa. “That Maledictus taught Archaelon necromancy, I’m certain of it.”
“If you really saw a Maledictus,” said Tamlin.
For once, there was no condescension in her voice. “It was a Maledictus. If you had seen the creature, Sir Tamlin, you would not doubt me now.”
“Perhaps not,” Tamlin conceded. He remembered the fear he had felt in Khurazalin’s presence.
At least until he had destroyed the vile creature and avenged Tysia.
“We can argue about Archaelon’s motives until the sun goes down,” said Aegeus with some exasperation. “It doesn’t solve the problem of what we shall do next.”
“And Archaelon’s motives will matter not at all,” said Tamlin, “once he is slain and Castra Chaeldon is back in our hands.”
“Which we cannot achieve with the men and supplies we have left,” said Aegeus.
“And that,” said Tamlin, “is why we need to agree upon who is in command.”
“Sir Parmenio,” said Aegeus at once. “He’s the most senior of us. He ought to command.”
Parmenio was shaking his head before Aegeus finished. “I am ill-suited for such a role, and I have no experience leading so many men in battle. I will bring disaster on our heads.”
“Then I should command,” said Kalussa at once, drawing herself up.
“You?” said Aegeus and Tamlin in unison.
Kalussa scowled at them. “Why not? I have been a full Sister of the Order of the Arcanii for three years. I am a daughter of Hektor Pendragon. Ruling is in my blood.”
“It might be,” said Tamlin, “but has your ruling blood any experience in commanding men? Do you know how to order a marching column? How to array men for a siege?”
Kalussa blinked, her irritation obvious. “Then do you know how to do any of those things, Tamlin Thunderbolt? Spending years fighting as a gladiator in Urd Maelwyn might have taught you the sword, but I doubt it taught you any of the things you just mentioned.”
“They did not,” said Tamlin, looking to where Calliande stood talking with Ridmark, “but I know someone who might.”
###
“It is my fault,” said Calliande in a soft voice.
Ridmark recognized that expression and tone of voice. She was blaming herself for what had happened to Gareth and Joachim. He feared the blame might paralyze her, the way she had blamed herself for Joanna’s death.
They could not afford that, not now.
“It is not,” said Ridmark. “I am just relieved that you are alive.” He brushed her left temple. “A sling bullet to the head like that…God and the saints, that’s almost always fatal. Another inch of the right and you would be dead.”
Calliande shook her head. “I should have seen it coming.” She looked up at him, her eyes full of pain and regret. “Ridmark, I’ve…I’ve not been myself, not for a while. It’s like my head has been full of fog. If I had been thinking faster, if I had been prepared…”
“Prepared?” said Ridmark.
She blinked at him.
“In what possible way,” said Ridmark, “could you have been prepared for an elven wizard to march into Arandar’s hall and transport us to
Owyllain? Of your life before we met, I know only what you’ve told me, but I doubt that happened terribly often.”
She smiled a little at that. “Never, in fact. I didn’t think it was possible for humans to be transported that far with magic, at least without going insane. But it seems Rhodruthain figured out a way to do it.”
“Rhodruthain.” Ridmark took her hands in his own. “This is his fault. Not yours, not mine, but his. If he wants us to fight this New God of his, he could have asked nicely. Not snatched us and dropped us here.”
“But if I had only reacted faster,” said Calliande. “If had…”
He squeezed her hands. “No. Don’t. I know all about blaming myself, Calliande. We already defeated the Frostborn. You can’t wander the Wilderland for five years looking for them the way I did.”
She stared at him, her face full of pain.
“And we don’t have time to waste blaming anyone but Rhodruthain,” said Ridmark. “Not when Gareth and Joachim need us.”
Her face crumpled a little, and Ridmark feared he had said too much, that he had pushed her too far. But the old steel flashed in her expression, and Calliande nodded, seeming to pull herself together. The entire time that Ridmark had known her, she had refused to rest when someone needed her. After the final battle with the Frostborn, she had labored for days without sleep to heal as many of the wounded as her strength would allow.
And now her sons needed that strength.
Ridmark suspected that Archaelon might come to regret his treachery. And Rhodruthain would regret his actions, too, if Calliande ever crossed his path again. Rhodruthain had seen Calliande when she was half-broken with grief.
He had not seen the Keeper of Andomhaim in her wrath.
“You’re right, of course,” said Calliande. She took a deep breath. “We must act. The question is, though, what are we going to do?”
“We go to Castra Chaeldon and get our sons back,” said Ridmark.
“Just like that?” said Calliande. “It won’t be that easy. Between the two of us, we can deal with any undead creatures. But Archaelon and that undead warlock will have living orcish warriors. They’ll have the walls of Castra Chaeldon, and Sir Tamlin said it was a strong fortress. Archaelon has that Champion creature of his that broke the hoplites. And I don’t know what kind of powers Archaelon has, but I can see a necromantic aura. If he can generate an aura that powerful, he must be strong indeed.”
“Perhaps we can get the hoplites and the Arcanius Knights to help,” said Ridmark. “They are ready to fight, and they want to rescue their comrades that Archaelon took captive.”
“I think we can persuade them,” said Calliande. “But we will have to act at once. We have seven days. The moons will be in the optimal position for necromancy then. Whatever spell Archaelon is planning, he will attempt it then.”
“Which means,” said Ridmark, taking a deep breath, “that we have seven days before he kills Gareth and Joachim.”
He said it more harshly than he intended, and he feared the impact the words would have on Calliande. But the resolve on her face only hardened, and this time he saw anger there. She had always hated those who had abused and twisted magic, even when she had lost most of her memory. Combined with the threat to their children…if Archaelon came into her power, he would not escape punishment for his crimes.
But if they failed…
No. Ridmark could not think on that. God and the saints, how many losses did a man have to endure in his life? The scriptures said that the span of a man’s days was seventy years or eighty if he had the strength, and truly their time was but sorrow and trouble. Ridmark had lost many friends and family, his first wife and his lover Morigna. How many more losses would he endure before he died? Tarrabus Carhaine and the Enlightened of Incariel had wanted to live forever. They had been fools – how long could a man live before everyone he had ever loved died, and he was left to twist into a creature as cruel and as heartless as a dark elven lord?
Ridmark pushed aside the thoughts. This was no time to indulge in dark musings. Especially since Calliande’s mind had been so badly harmed by grief.
“Yes,” said Calliande. “Seven days, Ridmark. Seven days to stop whatever Archaelon is planning.” To his surprise, she smiled a little. “We’ve done mad and dangerous things before, haven’t we? What is one more?”
“Yes,” said Ridmark. He rubbed his jaw, the stubble rasping beneath his palm. His face itched damnably, and he could have used a good shave. “Sir Tyromon’s dead, and I think Sir Tamlin and Kalussa and some of the other Arcanius Knights are the closest things that the hoplites have to a leader right now. Maybe I can convince them to help us.”
“Actually,” murmured Calliande, “I think they want to convince us to help them.”
“Really?” said Ridmark.
“Look,” said Calliande.
Ridmark looked away from her and saw Kalussa, Tamlin, and two other Arcanius Knights approaching them.
###
Calliande watched the others approach.
She suspected she knew what they were going to ask.
Tamlin looked resolved, as he always did. The stocky red-haired man next to him had to be Sir Aegeus, whom Calliande had glimpsed during the fight. The older knight must be Sir Parmenio, who had no wish to command the host even though he had the right. And the young woman…
To her surprise, Calliande felt a flicker of dislike go through her.
Certainly, she had no rational reason to dislike Kalussa Pendragon. Calliande had not spoken more than a few words to her, the girl had conducted herself well during the battle, and Ridmark had said she was a young woman of surprising nerve.
No. Calliande had no rational reason to dislike Kalussa. It wasn’t even the simple fact that she was younger and prettier.
It was the fact that she was younger and prettier and had spent the last day and night traveling alone with Ridmark.
The pettiness of the emotion disgusted Calliande. She trusted Ridmark. She had never doubted him while he had been away on campaign, and she ought not to start now. But it had been a long time since Calliande and Ridmark had lain together. Ridmark was a man of iron will and unyielding determination, but he was still a man of flesh and blood, a man who had not shared a bed with his wife in months.
And Kalussa was very pretty.
Perhaps in a moment of weakness, Ridmark had…
Angry at herself, Calliande pushed the idea out of her head.
“Lord Ridmark,” said Tamlin with a polite bow.
“Sir Tamlin,” said Ridmark. “Lady Kalussa. And I assume you are…Sir Aegeus and Sir Parmenio?”
“You have the right of it, sir,” said Aegeus. He seemed cheerful, despite their grim circumstances. Sir Aegeus struck Calliande as a happy brawler, the sort of man who enjoyed a good fight just as much as getting drunk with his friends. Likely he was a bad influence on Tamlin. Or maybe Tamlin was a bad influence on him.
“Aye, Lord Ridmark,” said Parmenio. He was much more reserved and collected than the others. Calliande suspected that as the oldest Arcanius Knight, he ought to have taken command of the hoplites, but he didn’t seem the kind of man who liked to put himself forward. Perhaps that was just as well. A lot of harm had been done by men whose ambition exceeded their abilities.
“That sword you carry, sir,” said Aegeus. “A soulblade, it is called?”
“You are correct, Sir Aegeus,” said Calliande. Out of old habit, the calm reserve of the Keeper came to her. If they were going to ask the men of Owyllain for help, best not to show any weakness in front of them. And if the men of Owyllain wanted to ask for help, then it was definitely a good idea not to show any weakness. “Five centuries ago, as the urdmordar besieged Tarlion, the Keeper of Andomhaim traveled to Cathair Solas to ask help of the high elves. The archmage Ardrhythain forged the soulblades, weapons of mighty magical power, and with those weapons, we defeated the urdmordar and saved Tarlion. The Swordbearers have been the chief defenders of t
he realm of Andomhaim ever since.”
“It is as if you wield one of the Seven Swords themselves, sir,” said Parmenio.
“He does not exaggerate,” said Kalussa. “I saw Lord Ridmark fight a pack of urvaalgs drawn by Archaelon’s’ necromantic magic. One strike from Oathshield was enough to destroy the vile beasts.”
“Lady Calliande’s magic was no less potent,” said Tamlin. “We heard the tales of the power of the Keepers of Andomhaim in ancient days, and we have all seen the men here who would have died if not for her magic.”
“We thank you for the compliments,” said Ridmark. “And we have seen firsthand that the valor of the men of Owyllain is no less than the valor of the men of Andomhaim. But I wonder why you mention this now when so many more urgent matters press.”
Kalussa snorted. “What my illustrious brothers in the Order have not yet mentioned is the obvious. We want you to take command of our men and lead us against Castra Chaeldon and Archaelon.”
“Why?” said Ridmark.
Kalussa blinked, confused. Perhaps she had expected Ridmark to jump at the chance. “Because you are the best choice at hand. By rights, I should take command of our men.” Tamlin rolled his eyes at that, and Calliande carefully kept from smiling. “But to be blunt, I have no experience of command, and I might lead our men to disaster. None of us have much experience leading armies. The stakes are too high for us to turn away help…especially help as powerful as what you and Lady Calliande offer.”
Ridmark said nothing for a moment, looking at them without blinking.
“If I do this,” said Ridmark, “I have two conditions.”
“Name them,” said Tamlin.
“First,” said Ridmark, “I’ve told the tale of our arrival here to Lady Kalussa, and Calliande has done the same for Sir Tamlin. Presumably, the four of you know that our sons are imprisoned in Castra Chaeldon. You must tell this to no one else. The truth stays with the six of us.”
Sevenfold Sword: Champion Page 17
