Sevenfold Sword: Champion

by Jonathan Moeller

  The blue fire in the skull’s eyes brightened.

  “Ah,” said Archaelon. “The Champion failed to kill you, so I suppose I shall have to do it myself.”

  Chapter 22: Armor & Shield

  Ridmark did not bother with words.

  Archaelon had taken his children, and the Arcanius had shown himself to be both a traitor and a necromancer. Such a man merited only one fate.

  Ridmark charged up the stairs, drawing on Oathshield for speed, hoping to strike and end the battle with a single blow.

  Even with Oathshield’s speed, Archaelon was faster, or at least his magic was faster. The skull at the end of his staff of bones burned brighter, and a blast of shadow and blue fire hurtled towards Ridmark. He didn’t have enough time to dodge, and he had no choice but to bring Oathshield up in guard. The soulblade flared as Archaelon’s necromantic attack hammered into him, and Ridmark gritted as his sword shuddered under the attack, but once again Oathshield proved stronger than Archaelon’s necromancy.

  The ghostly fire winked out, and Ridmark stepped forward.

  The wraiths surged towards him.

  Archaelon stepped back as he gestured with his staff, and a dozen wraiths flowed towards Ridmark, ghostly blue fire glimmering in their eyes, their translucent bodies of black smoke and mist rippling and writhing. A deathly chill washed through Ridmark as the undead creatures approached him, and once more he fell back. The wraiths surged after him, and Ridmark called on Oathshield to protect him from their deadly touch.

  The chill vanished, but so did the augmented strength and speed that the soulblade granted him. It could protect him from potent dark magic, and it could make him stronger and faster, but it could not do both at the same time. Ridmark went on the attack, slashing Oathshield with two-handed swings.

  There was one advantage to fighting wraiths. Their immaterial bodies did not slow Ridmark’s sword at all. Oathshield ripped through a wraith, its blade blazing hotter with white fire, and the specter shrieked as it unraveled into nothingness. Two more wraiths came for him. One resembled an orcish warrior and the second a hoplite of Owyllain. Ridmark slashed through the first wraith, sidestepped around the second wraith’s touch, and ripped his soulblade diagonally through its chest.

  Both specters unraveled into nothingness.

  Archaelon snarled and pointed his bronze sword at Ridmark. The shadow fire around the blade deepened and darkened, and it spat a bolt of black flame. Ridmark wasn’t sure if Oathshield could protect him from the dark magic and the wraiths at the same time, and he decided not to find out. He sidestepped again and swung Oathshield, intercepting the bolt of dark magic. The shadow magic struck the soulblade and shattered, leaving Ridmark untouched. He charged once more, hacking his way through the wraiths, moving closer to Archaelon.

  The necromancer snarled again and retreated into the great hall, wraiths rushing towards Ridmark.

  ###

  Calliande saw the battle raging before the doors to the keep, saw Ridmark fighting a mob of wraiths alone. Archaelon stood before the doors, holding a sword of bronze and a staff of bone. Calliande’s Sight saw the necromantic magic swirling around him, a power far stronger than he should have been able to wield. She realized that his ritual to raise an army of the dead had been constructed of necromantic magic the way that her spell to tear down the wall had been wrought of the magic of the earth. His ritual wasn’t finished, but he was tapping it now, using its stored power to fuel his spells.

  “Lady Calliande!”

  Calliande glanced to the side and saw Kalussa running towards her, a short bow in hand.

  “We must help Lord Ridmark,” said Kalussa, breathing hard as she came to a stop. “He cannot fight the wraiths alone.”

  “Archaelon is the enemy,” said Calliande. “If we kill him, that will deal with the undead.”

  Kalussa nodded. “I shall strike him at once.” She began calling fire into her grasp.

  “No!” said Calliande. “His wards will turn aside your attack. Wait until I strike, and then cast your spell right after mine. Perhaps you will be able to burn him before he can rebuild his defenses.”

  Kalussa made a twisting gesture, a sphere of fire spinning to life in her cupped hands. “I shall strike when you give the word, Keeper.”

  Calliande nodded and started casting her own spell, calling together the power of the Well and the mantle of the Keeper.

  ###

  Ridmark destroyed another wraith, snapping Oathshield up in time to deflect a blast of dark magic from Archaelon. Oathshield let him destroy wraith after wraith, and it protected him from Archaelon’s attacks.

  But it did not let him move any closer to Archaelon.

  The necromancer had called too many wraiths, and he was throwing spell after spell at Ridmark. Forced to defend himself from both the wraiths and the magical attacks, Ridmark was losing ground, retreating step by step into the courtyard. Too much further and the wraiths would get past him to attack the hoplites struggling against the orcs, and unless Calliande was there to defend them, it would be a slaughter.

  Then white fire slashed across his vision and struck Archaelon.

  The necromancer stumbled back, his eyes going wide, and the second after that a bolt of fire struck him in the left shoulder. Archaelon staggered with a scream of pain, leaning hard upon his staff of bones for balance. Ridmark risked a swift glance over his shoulder and saw Calliande and Kalussa standing side by side as they cast spells. He had seen Calliande do something similar with Antenora during their quest to stop the Frostborn. Calliande would use her magic to break the wards of an enemy wizard, and Antenora would follow up with a devastating attack of elemental fire.

  Evidently, Calliande had taught Kalussa the same trick. Both women were already casting new spells.

  Archaelon growled and whirled to face them. Kalussa’s spell had left a hideous burn across his left shoulder, but he hardly seemed to feel or even notice it. He started another spell of his own, blue fire and shadow mixing together, and Ridmark took the opportunity to attack, cutting down wraith after wraith. The undead creatures swarmed towards him, but they could not stand against the power of Oathshield, and he destroyed them one by one.

  And he moved closer to Archaelon.

  ###

  “Behind me!” snapped Calliande.

  Kalussa took one look at the storm of dark magic swirling around Archaelon and hastened to obey.

  An instant later the traitor unleashed his attack, flinging a lance of withering shadow at Calliande and Kalussa. But the Keeper was ready, and a half-dome of shimmering light appeared before her. Archaelon’s lance struck the dome and unraveled, and Calliande attacked again, throwing another shaft of brilliant white fire at the necromancer.

  “Strike!” said Calliande as Archaelon’s wards collapsed.

  Kalussa obeyed at once, throwing all of her will and power and magic into a single spell. The bolt of fire soared from her fingertips, and this time she hit Archaelon in the center of the chest. The impact rocked the necromancer into the doorframe, plates of twisted bronze exploding from his chest, smoke rising from his burned flesh. Archaelon screamed, and for a moment Kalussa thought she had dealt a killing bow to the traitor.

  But Archaelon straightened up, casting another spell, and Calliande began another ward.

  ###

  Tamlin cut down an orcish warrior and ripped his sword free, looking around for his next opponent.

  For a moment, he couldn’t find any.

  The men of Owyllain were winning the battle decisively. The orcish soldiers had been shattered, and he saw some of them sprinting for the opened gate. Rallios was making no effort to stop them from fleeing, which was just as well. If the orcish soldiers were trapped, they would fight to the death, likely taking more hoplites with them

  But Archaelon and Khurazalin were still somewhere in Castra Chaeldon, and the battle would not be over until they were found.

  White and blue fire flashed back and forth ac
ross the courtyard, and Tamlin looked towards the keep. He first saw Ridmark Arban, battling against a horde of wraiths with his soulblade burning like a brand in his fists. Calliande and Kalussa stood side-by-side, hurling fire at Archaelon. The traitor stood in the doorway leading to the keep’s great hall, a staff of bones and a bronze sword grasped in his hands, dark power snarling and spitting around him.

  He was losing. Calliande and Archaelon both wielded magic far beyond Tamlin’s skill and knowledge, but he had seen enough battles to know what a man looked like on the verge of defeat, and he saw defeat in Archaelon. Either Calliande would break him, or Ridmark would kill him with Oathshield.

  But there was still no sign of Khurazalin. Likely the Maledictus had used his ally as a stalking horse, letting Archaelon take the brunt of the attack. Once Archaelon was slain, and Calliande weakened from the fight, Khurazalin would act. It was how the Maledicti preferred to fight. Khurazalin had even stabbed Tysia from behind, preferring to attack from the shadows rather than risk even the slightest chance that she might be able to hurt him.

  Which still did not make sense, even two years later. Tysia couldn’t possibly have hurt him…

  Tamlin put the thought out of his head and hurried towards Calliande and Kalussa.

  He had already killed Khurazalin once before to avenge his wife. He had no objections to doing it again.

  ###

  Ridmark hammered his way through another wraith, his heart thundering in his chest, sweat pouring down his face, his arms and shoulders aching. The long battle had drained him, and he didn’t have the stamina he had possessed as a younger man. Even Oathshield’s powerful magic could only go so far.

  But it didn’t matter.

  The end of the battle was at hand.

  There were only a few wraiths left between him and Archaelon. The necromancer himself was wounded badly. Three of Kalussa’s fiery darts had hit him, and one had even grazed the side of his head, transforming the right half of his face into a hideous mass of crimson burns and black char. Archaelon ought to have been in too much agony to move, let alone to fight, but he battled on, locked in his magical duel with the Keeper of Andomhaim.

  It was a duel that he would lose. Even alone, Calliande would have been able to overcome Archaelon. With a Swordbearer to aid her, Archaelon’s defenses were crumbling.

  Especially since with his attention bent towards Calliande, he had no power left to summon wraiths.

  Ridmark slashed through two more wraiths, and then the path was clear to Archaelon. He started up the steps, soulblade raised, watching the necromancer for any sign of attack. Archaelon glared at him, his burned lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. He stumbled back a few steps, his sword and staff held out before him.

  And then, for some reason, he looked up.

  Ridmark shot a swift glance upward, wondering if there were archers above, or perhaps some sort of flying creature, but he didn’t see anything.

  Then Archaelon screamed and thrust his staff at the sky.

  The top level of the keep exploded in a spray of shattered masonry and blue fire.

  ###

  The surge of power came so quickly it took Calliande off guard.

  She had been gathering magic to strike again, hoping to weaken Archaelon enough that Ridmark could kill him. During her spell, Tamlin had hurried over, sword in hand. Kalussa demanded to know what he was doing, and Tamlin had said that he expected Khurazalin to attack the Keeper. That seemed reasonable, and Calliande was focused on her spell anyway, so she said nothing.

  Then dark magic surged through the keep, and the top level exploded with a deafening roar. An inferno of blue fire snarled and roiled through the shattered masonry, and debris rained into the courtyard, killing a dozen hoplites and orcish soldiers.

  Calliande stared at the fireball in horror.

  Her sons were up there! She reached for the Sight in sheer panic, and relief flooded through her when she found them. They had not been on the top level of the keep, but instead a level below it.

  Then fresh alarm overrode her fear for her children. Archaelon had been conducting his ritual on the top level of the keep, gathering the dark power he needed here. And he had just tapped the entirety of the power he had gathered, driven to a desperate act by his impending defeat.

  A ribbon of fire shot from the inferno and coiled around Archaelon, and the necromancer screamed once more.

  ###

  The ribbon of ghostly blue fire wrapped around Archaelon, the power surging through him, and Ridmark raced forward.

  Even with Oathshield’s magic driving him forward, he was still too slow.

  Archaelon threw back his head and howled, and wraiths erupted from the ground around him, hundreds of them at once, overlapping and blurred. Ridmark had to stop and call on Oathshield’s power to shield him from the wraiths’ life-draining touch. Hundreds of wraiths coiled and wrapped around Archaelon, flowing around him in a blue-glowing haze.

  He was armoring himself in wraiths.

  And still more wraiths rose from the ground.

  ###

  “Stay close to me!” said Calliande. “Both of you!”

  She did not need to tell Kalussa twice.

  Dark haze exploded from Archaelon, rolling across the courtyard. An instant before it reached Kalussa, Calliande cast a spell. A dome of translucent white light erupted from the end of her staff, covering Calliande, Kalussa, and Tamlin. The shadowy haze filled the courtyard like water pouring into a bowl, and to Kalussa’s horror, ever single hoplite and Arcanius in the courtyard fell over.

  Had the haze killed them? No, it seemed to have stunned them. But how long would they stay alive in that miasma of dark energy?

  “What is happening?” said Tamlin.

  “Archaelon’s summoned hundreds of wraiths at once,” said Calliande. “He’s using them as armor, I think. There are so many of them that they’ve stunned anyone without magical protection. Maybe I can stop him.”

  She pushed out her free hand and cast a spell. A shaft of white fire lanced across the courtyard, cutting into Archaelon. At least, it was supposed to have cut into Archaelon. The fire drained away as it crossed the courtyard, the shadowy haze leeching away its strength. Dozens of distorted wraiths clung to Archaelon like a suit of nightmarish armor, and Calliande’s weakened spell slammed into the wraiths. Her magic destroyed two or three of them, but more wraiths took their place at once, flowing out of the ground.

  Kalussa tried to cast a spell of her own, hurling a bolt of flame at Archaelon. Her effort was even less successful. Her fire barely got twenty yards before it unraveled and vanished.

  “Don’t bother,” said Calliande, her teeth gritted with concentration. “There’s too many wraiths. Their combined aura will leech away any magic before it gets to Archaelon. My own spells can barely get to him.”

  “What about Lord Ridmark?” said Kalussa.

  She spotted him standing twenty paces from Archaelon, the shadowy haze flowing past him. He held Oathshield in both hands, the sword raised before him as if to parry. The soulblade blazed with white fire, holding the shadows at bay, yet Ridmark’s arms trembled with effort.

  “Why does he not strike?” said Tamlin. “He’s so close.”

  “He can’t,” said Calliande. “It’s taking all of Oathshield’s power to keep the wraiths’ aura from killing him. He’s too close to Archaelon. We’ll have to get closer.”

  Calliande gripped her staff in both hands and thrust it forward, the light at the end shining brighter. She started to walk forward, but slowly, her face tight with strain. Likely it took all her strength to move forward through the shadows while maintaining the warding spell. Kalussa and Tamlin followed her, making sure to remain within the light of her ward.

  But she wasn’t moving fast enough.

  Archaelon wavered on his feet for a moment and then turned towards Ridmark, raising his bronze sword. Black fire roiled up and down the blade, and with a surge of horror, Kalussa
realized he was going to kill Ridmark. And Ridmark would not be able to defend himself, not with his whole effort going to keeping the wraiths’ aura from sucking away his life.

  She looked at Calliande. It seemed so cruel, so monstrously cruel. Calliande had lost her daughter, and now she would see her husband slain in front of her? How could the world be so monstrous?

  Then Oathshield burned brighter in Ridmark’s hands, the flames crawling up his arms as both the soulstones embedded in the weapon shone like stars.

  ###

  “Your foolish attack ruined my labors,” said Archaelon, “and it was all for nothing.”

  The armor of wraiths swirling around his body distorted his voice, making it sound deeper and harsher. Despite the dark haze of the wraiths, his pallor had increased, and his eyes glowed with blue fire. Between that and the burns, he almost looked undead himself. Perhaps the strain of the spell he had unleashed would kill him.

  It would not, however, kill Archaelon before he killed Ridmark.

  The shadowy haze of the wraiths’ combined aura had filled the courtyard, felling the hoplites and the surviving orcish soldiers. Had it killed them? Ridmark could not tell. He saw the familiar white light of Calliande’s magic near the gate, and he thought he saw Kalussa and Tamlin with her, but he wasn’t sure.

  He did know that Calliande would not be able to reach him in time.

  “Because no matter what happens here today,” said Archaelon, “the New God shall rise in power. Kill me, and it will not affect the outcome. The Seven Swords were the herald. The omens have been millennia in the making, and their fulfillment has come. The New God will rise in glory, and all mortals shall be its slaves or its servants.”

  And Ridmark knew he had no choice left.

  His sons were in the keep. His wife was behind her warding spells. The soldiers, if they were still alive, were trapped by the power of the wraiths. If Ridmark wanted to save them, if he had any chance of saving them, he had only one choice left.