Sevenfold Sword: Champion

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Likely not,” said Ridmark.

  “That makes you an anomaly,” said Archaelon. The black gaze shifted to Calliande. “You, too, Lady Calliande, are an anomaly.”

  Calliande raised her eyebrows. “In what way, might I ask?”

  “You are the single most powerful human user of magic I have ever encountered,” said Archaelon. “Khurazalin and I, working in tandem, might be able to overcome you, but it is just as likely that you would prevail. You claim to be the Keeper of Andomhaim, yes?”

  “A claim that would be accurate,” said Calliande.

  “Andomhaim should have been conquered by the urdmordar centuries ago,” said Archaelon. “Even if the realm stood against the wrath of the urdmordar, there are still three thousand miles of ocean between Aenesium and Tarlion. You could not have arrived here without a large fleet and a host of soldiers. Yet you and Lord Ridmark alone stand before me. Another anomaly.”

  “If you want the answers to your riddles,” said Calliande, “I shall be happy to share them once you have surrendered and released your captives.”

  “Do you know,” said Archaelon, “that a year ago I would have agreed with you? That I would have looked on my current path with horror and recoiled from it at once?”

  “What changed?” said Ridmark.

  “I learned the truth,” said Archaelon.

  His black gaze moved over Tamlin and Kalussa, both of whom looked back at him with cold expressions.

  “And you, Sir Tamlin and Lady Kalussa, both of you are anomalies,” said Archaelon.

  “What do you mean?” said Kalussa. “Speak sense. You are a murderer and a traitor and a necromancer, so you could at least express yourself without all this riddling nonsense.”

  “Swordborn,” said Archaelon. “You two should not exist. Why should some of the power of the Seven pass to you just because your fathers bore two of the Swords? It shouldn’t have worked that way, but it did. An anomaly. A flaw in the design, something that was not intended.”

  “You’re speaking in ciphers,” said Tamlin.

  “Am I?” said Archaelon. “I am speaking quite clearly to those who know the truth. You see, our history was a lie. All five centuries since Connmar Pendragon arrived to found Aenesium and Owyllain and the Nine Cities, all of our history has been a lie.”

  Kalussa frowned. “You mean to say that our history is false? That something else happened?”

  “No,” said Archaelon. “The facts are the same. The history you learned as a child is true. But our purpose…our purpose has always been false. The reason we fought the Sovereign was false. Only a few know it. Perhaps you start to realize it.”

  “Speak plainly,” said Tamlin.

  “Very well,” said Archaelon, the dark gaze focusing on the young knight. “Khurazalin murdered your wife.”

  Tamlin’s face hardened. “Told you about that, did he?”

  “He did. I told him it was a mistake,” said Archaelon.

  “How generous of you,” said Tamlin with scorn.

  “No,” said Archaelon. “Khurazalin should have killed you, not your wife.”

  “Why?” said Tamlin.

  “Your wife was an enemy, a known enemy,” said Archaelon. “She failed once before. You, however, are an anomaly. An aberration. Anomalies cannot be predicted and are therefore more dangerous. I will not make the same mistake.”

  “Is that a threat?” said Tamlin, dropping his hand to his sword hilt.

  “Merely a promise,” said Archaelon. “I will not kill you in a parley, but during the battle to come.”

  “Why?” said Kalussa. “Why have you betrayed King Hektor?”

  “It is as I have told you. I have seen the truth,” said Archaelon.

  “And what truth is that?” said Ridmark.

  His black eyes turned towards Ridmark, full of certainty. “The New God is coming.”

  “Is it, now?” said Ridmark. “Since I’ve come to Owyllain, I’ve heard about the New God, but no one will tell me what it is.”

  “The New God is the future,” said Archaelon. “Its coming is inevitable. The death and defeat of the Sovereign guaranteed it. The New God will rise and rule this world for all time. You say I have betrayed my oaths to King Hektor? Perhaps I have, but those oaths are null and void. The coming of the New God shall break all bonds, dissolve all oaths, and shatter all covenants.” He gestured at Castra Chaeldon. “You wonder why I have done what I have done? My spell shall raise a vast army of undead, and it shall lure King Hektor and King Justin into destroying one another. When the New God is made manifest, I shall present it with an army of undead when I kneel before it, and I shall rise high in the new order.”

  “Madness,” said Kalussa.

  “You have been duped by the lies that snake Khurazalin is pouring into your ears,” said Tamlin.

  Archaelon sighed. “No. We have seen the truth. And I fear you shall see the truth in the battle to come.”

  “And you are sure there is a battle coming?” said Ridmark.

  “It is obvious.” Archaelon gestured towards the distant column of purple fire. “I know not the nature of the magical spell Lady Calliande has prepared, but it is clearly a magical attack. It will fail. You lack enough men to overcome my defenses, and I shall overwhelm you. Even if you crouch outside my walls, in four days I will finish my ritual and raise a vast host of wraiths. They will destroy you utterly, and your corpses shall rise again and join my army.”

  “You seem quite confident of that,” said Ridmark.

  “I am.” Archaelon sighed again. “But I have a proposal that may save you from unnecessary bloodshed.”

  “Very well,” said Ridmark. “I have a proposal for you first.”

  “Oh?” said Archaelon. Again, came that strange, mechanical smile. “Permit me to guess. I shall surrender, release all my captives unharmed to you, and then depart Owyllain never to return.”

  “Yes,” said Ridmark.

  “I reject it categorically, though I understand you felt it necessary to make the effort,” said Archaelon. “Now I propose another course.”

  “What is that?” said Ridmark.

  “A duel,” said Archaelon.

  Ridmark frowned. “Between you and me?”

  “No,” said Archaelon. “Between you and my Champion. These are the terms I offer. If you defeat my Champion, I will abandon Castra Chaeldon and depart. All my captives will be released, and the fortress will be yours. But if the Champion is victorious, your men will depart for Aenesium at once.”

  “I see,” said Ridmark. “We must consider this proposal. Will you give us a few moments to discuss it?”

  “Of course,” said Archaelon. “I shall wait here for a quarter of an hour. If you do not return in that time, I will withdraw to Castra Chaeldon, and we shall continue on as before.”

  Ridmark nodded, gestured to the others, and they withdrew back to the lines of the hoplites.

  “You cannot fight the Champion alone,” said Calliande, her voice tight with worry.

  “Fighting the Champion was the plan,” said Ridmark. “The Champion is obviously an undead creature of great power. Oathshield is the only weapon that has any chance of defeating it.”

  “Yes,” said Calliande, “but you shouldn’t have to fight it alone. My magic could be of great help, along with the spells of the Arcanii. If you fight the Champion alone, you might get killed.”

  “Aye, I might,” said Ridmark, “but that also means the Champion will fight me alone. Fighting the Champion when Archaelon and Khurazalin are backing it up would be far more dangerous. If I fight the creature now, I would have a better chance than if Archaelon and Khurazalin threw their spells into the fray.”

  “But only if Archaelon keeps his word,” said Calliande.

  “He might,” said Ridmark.

  “Lady Calliande is right,” said Kalussa. “He is a treacherous dog and will stab you in the back.”

  “He’s a madman,” said Tamlin.

  �
��No,” murmured Calliande. “No, I don’t think he’s insane. He has abandoned all conscience and morality, yes. But he’s not insane. He really believes this New God of his is coming, and he thinks that it will be powerful enough that he’s going to switch sides right now.”

  “That changes nothing,” said Kalussa. “If he would abandon the Dominus Christus to worship this false New God of his, then he is indeed a treacherous dog who will stab you in the back.”

  Ridmark nodded. “And that certainty of victory is why he’s sending the Champion out to duel me. He is certain, utterly certain, that the Champion will kill me.”

  “Can you take the Champion?” said Tamlin. “Lord Ridmark, to be blunt, this is neither the time for false modesty or false pride. I fought all manner of foes and beasts in the Ring of Blood, but I have never seen anything move as fast or hit as hard at Archaelon’s Champion.”

  “By myself, I would say not,” said Ridmark. He tapped his sword hilt. “But with Oathshield, I think I can probably defeat the Champion. With a soulblade in hand, I’ve killed urvaalgs, ursaars, and even an urdmordar. Perhaps it is pride and folly, but I think I can win.”

  And if he couldn’t, he had a fallback option. Oathshield bore the unique power of the Shield Knight. If Ridmark had no other choice, he would draw upon that power. The cost would be high, but almost certainly the power of the Shield Knight could defeat the Champion.

  Rallios shook his head. “It seems rash to me, my lord.”

  “He did defeat a half-dozen urvaalgs by himself,” said Kalussa in a quiet voice. “That was no lie. I saw it with my own eyes and had anyone else described it to me, I would not have believed it.”

  “But the urvaalgs did not have two powerful necromancers to aid them,” said Calliande.

  “They didn’t,” said Ridmark. “But I’ll have you watching for any sign of treachery.”

  Calliande frowned. “Then the delay only advantages Archaelon. I’ll have to stop work on the spell of earth magic to watch the duel.”

  Ridmark gave her a tight smile. “What if the spell was already done?”

  Calliande blinked, and then a smile spread across her face as she understood.

  “Why does that matter?” said Rallios.

  “I will tell Archaelon that I need time to prepare,” said Ridmark. “I will agree to duel the Champion, but at noon. That will let Calliande finish the spell. All she will need to do then is release the power and direct it. The best time to attack will be after I defeat the Champion.” Ridmark knew he dared not show fear or doubt, not now. “That will dismay Archaelon and his orcish warriors. The instant the Champion falls, Lady Calliande will release her spell. The earth magic will breach the wall, and we can attack at once.”

  Rallios nodded. “The only thing better than dealing a hammer blow to the foe is to deal two hammer blows to the foe in rapid succession.”

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. “If we wait until noon, I can defeat the Champion, Calliande can breach the wall immediately afterward, and we can storm the castra and put an end to this. No magic of this world can resist the power of the Keeper of Andomhaim, and Calliande will turn her spells against Archaelon and Khurazalin while we deal with the orcish warriors and the undead.”

  No one said anything for a while.

  “God and the saints, it is a bold plan,” said Rallios. “I’ve been a soldier too long to put any faith in bold plans.”

  “But I cannot think of anything better,” said Sir Parmenio.

  “Nor can I, sir knight,” said Rallios. He took a deep breath. “If this is your will, Lord Ridmark, by God we will see it done.”

  Ridmark nodded. “Thank you, Decurion.” He was glad of the old soldier’s support, but in the end, only one opinion mattered to him.

  “You are sure you can do this?” said Calliande in a quiet voice.

  He met her eyes. “I will do what must be done.”

  Ridmark meant it. Gareth and Joachim were inside that fortress, and he was going to get them back.

  No matter what he had to do.

  Calliande took a deep breath. “Then we will watch you beat the Champion, and then bring ruin upon Archaelon’s head.”

  “So be it,” said Ridmark. “Come. Let’s see if we can convince Archaelon to wait until noon.”

  “The dog ought to agree,” said Tamlin. “He will think a delay will give him more time to finish his ritual.”

  “Perhaps,” said Ridmark. “But one way or another, we shall see the end of this today.”

  Ridmark, Calliande, Tamlin, and Kalussa walked to where Archaelon awaited them with his orcish guards. The traitorous Arcanius had remained motionless, his expression still empty of all emotion. The cold black eyes turned to Ridmark.

  “Have you given any thought to my offer?” said Archaelon.

  “I am willing to accept it,” said Ridmark, “with one condition. The duel must take place at midday.”

  “I have no objection to this condition,” said Archaelon. “But before I accept, permit me to make you one final offer. Join me.”

  “Join you?” said Ridmark, making no effort to hide his scorn. “As what? Shall I spend my time robbing graves to supply corpses for your army, or shall I devote my attention to betraying my oaths?”

  Archaelon sighed and shook his head. “Neither. Join me as a follower of the New God. For the New God is coming, Ridmark Arban. The world shall belong to it, and all shall kneel before it – either as willing servants or as terrified slaves. Choose this day whom you shall serve.”

  The misquote from the scriptures irritated Ridmark, but he kept it from his face.

  “I refuse you and your New God,” said Ridmark.

  “Very well,” said Archaelon. “Then I accept your condition. The duel shall take place at noon, at this very spot, and it shall continue until the Champion kills you. I suggest you appeal to your Dominus Christus, Lord Ridmark, and see if any divine aid is forthcoming. When none arrives, you can reflect upon your folly in the final instant before the Champion crushes your skull. Come.”

  He gestured to his guards, and together they marched back to the castra. Ridmark watched as they disappeared through the postern door.

  “Let’s go,” said Ridmark. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  Chapter 20: The Duel

  Calliande finished the great spell about half an hour before noon.

  She almost wished that she hadn’t.

  The cylinder of purple fire and glowing symbols whirled before her, pulsing with power to her Sight. Two days of work had allowed Calliande to summon and interlock a tremendous amount of earth magic. The power was harnessed to her will and waiting, almost like a bolt lying in a readied ballista. All she need do was direct her will, and the torrent of power would flow out. It would shake the earth beneath the curtain wall and send it crashing to the ground. Raising that much power had been a great effort, but Calliande had done it before.

  Already she missed the effort of the work.

  It had kept her from dwelling on the duel.

  Ridmark was going to face the Champion, and the Champion might kill him.

  Calliande had no doubts about her husband’s ability as a warrior. With her own eyes, she had seen him defeat Tarrabus Carhaine, the Lord Commander of the Frostborn, Agrimnalazur, Tymandain Shadowbearer, the Weaver, Prince Kurdulkar, and a host of other foes. When they had first met ten years ago, she had wondered what kind of terror he must have been on the battlefield with a soulblade in hand, and once he had taken up Oathshield and become the Shield Knight, her speculation had proven correct. Ten years had taken some of his speed, but Oathshield’s power made up for it, and he had ten years of additional experience.

  But she knew nothing about Archaelon’s Champion, knew nothing of its capabilities, save that its attack had broken an army of five hundred men, some of them wielding powerful elemental magic. A soulblade could kill almost anything, but it usually took teams of Swordbearers and Magistri to overcome powerful creatures like urdmorda
r and urdhracosi and urvuuls.

  And even then, sometimes the urdmordar and the urdhracosi and the urvuuls won.

  Calliande might see her husband die before the day was over.

  The thought threatened to turn her spine to water. She had already lost her daughter. Would she lose her husband and her sons in a single day? Calliande had met women who had lost their husbands and all their sons to the Frostborn. She had seen the lasting grief, the pain that never went away.

  Would that be her fate?

  Perhaps that would be her punishment. She had led so many men to their deaths against the Frostborn. Perhaps watching her entire family die in a single day would be her punishment. But she had failed to save Joanna, hadn’t she? Maybe this was how God would punish her, how he would…

  “Stop that!” she hissed to herself. “Stop it now!”

  Calliande would have slapped herself if would not have drawn odd questions.

  She had gone to pieces after Joanna’s death. She could not afford to do so now. Too much was at stake. Calliande valued her husband’s life and her sons’ lives more than anything, yes, but there were also hundreds of other lives at stake, both the hoplites outside the walls and the prisoners within the fortress. And if Archaelon finished his spell and unleashed an army of wraiths on Owyllain in the name of his New God, then thousands more would die, maybe tens of thousands.

  Calliande’s dread turned to shivering anger and then resolution, her hands tightening against her ancient staff.

  Ridmark would duel the Champion…and at the first sign of interference from Archaelon or Khurazalin, Calliande would show the two necromancers just why wielders of dark magic feared the Keeper of Andomhaim.

  And if it looked as if Ridmark was going to lose, Calliande would unleash her spell at the wall and then aid him. To hell with the rules of the duel. She would not let Archaelon’s pet monster hurt Ridmark.

  She walked through the waiting ranks of hoplites and joined Ridmark and the others at the head of the army. Ridmark stood there, Oathshield in his right hand. Kalussa, Tamlin, Parmenio, Aegeus, and Rallios waited near him, and Rallios and Parmenio were describing the Champion to him.