Sevenfold Sword: Shadow

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Something happened to us,” said Calem, standing. “We…we need to find the others, we…”

  “Please,” she said, “please, get dressed. We…”

  The door burst open, and Calliande stood there, the staff of the Keeper in hand, white fire glowing around her fingers. For an awful instant, Kalussa was sure that Calliande knew what she had been doing, that the Keeper had come to rebuke her for the loss of self-control.

  Then Calliande’s eyes went wide, her expression almost comical with surprise. Shame flooded through Kalussa, and she felt her face burn with it.

  “Kalussa?” said Calliande. “I heard you shouting…”

  “I don’t know what happened,” said Kalussa. “I…I…it was like we were in a dream, I couldn’t stop myself, it…”

  “A dream, yes,” said Calliande, her face hardening. Kalussa braced herself for the rebuke, but it didn’t come. “I just spent the day sitting in my room holding my dead daughter, and before that, I saw one of the Maledicti cast a spell.”

  “The Maledicti?” said Kalussa, grasping at that word as if it offered hope. Perhaps she had not been herself. Perhaps she had been under a spell or some sort of magical compulsion to explain how she had acted in such a wanton and shameful manner.

  “Yes,” said Calliande. “I think the Maledictus cast the spell over the entire town. I don’t know what is going on, but it isn’t good. Get dressed as quickly as you can and meet me in the common room.”

  “I want to get dressed in your room,” said Kalussa. “Please.”

  Calliande looked at her, at Calem, and frowned, but she nodded. “As you wish.”

  “Kalussa,” said Calem, his voice raw.

  “We need to get ready,” said Kalussa, and she followed Calliande into the hallway, her clothes, boots, and the Staff of Blades clutched against her body to preserve some semblance of modesty. She couldn’t bear to look at Calem because when she did, the shame flooded through her.

  Kalussa didn’t blame him. How could she? She had all but thrown herself at him, practically dragged him to her bed. And all the while she had been under the influence of a spell. How could she have possessed so little self-control? She was a daughter of a King, an apprentice of the Keeper of Andomhaim, and the bearer of the Staff of Blades. Kalussa had to have better self-control.

  No matter how much it hurt to do so.

  She felt Calem staring after her as she left with Calliande.

  ###

  Tamlin laughed as Aegeus told Tysia the story of the siege of Castra Chaeldon. Aegeus had told that story over and over, though he always exaggerated Tamlin’s part and downplayed his own. Aegeus might have enjoyed drinking and wenching a little too much, but he wasn’t a braggart.

  He had always been a good friend.

  Though Tamlin wondered why he was telling Tysia that story. She had to know it already since she had escaped from Urd Maelwyn with them and had lived with Tamlin ever since. So why tell her that story as if she had never heard it before?

  As if she had not been there for the two and a half years after Tamlin had escaped from Urd Maelwyn with Aegeus and Michael.

  Something else scratched at his mind, something that demanded attention.

  Every time he looked at Tysia, her face looked subtly different. Her hair changed, or her clothes did. Her left eye shifted from the pale blue he remembered to a strange shade of silver or a vivid purple. Like she was somehow three different women at the same time.

  That didn’t make any sense, and the thought threatened to erupt within his mind.

  “So then,” said Aegeus, gesturing, “we got through the wall and into the courtyard. Archaelon sent his undead to stop us, of course, but your husband and I…”

  A searing bolt of pain drilled between Tamlin’s eyes, and he sagged against the wall.

  “Tamlin?” said Tysia. “Husband? Husband!”

  Tamlin looked at her. Tysia’s face had gone solemn, her eyes wide and grave.

  “Find me again,” she whispered. “The New God is coming.”

  Then both she and Aegeus dissolved into mist and vanished.

  Tamlin gaped, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Then he felt the grief crashing through him. He had found Tysia again, only to lose her once more…

  No. Wait. That wasn’t right. He was in Kalimnos, sitting in his room at the Javelin Inn. And he had fond Tysia again twice, first in Trojas where her name had been Tirdua, and then again here where she was called Tamara.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Tamlin got to his feet and heard shouting.

  He grabbed the Sword of Earth and ran to his door. He opened it just in time to see Krastikon striding up the corridor with the Sword of Death in hand, his expression haunted and alarmed. He froze when he saw Tamlin.

  “Let me guess,” said Tamlin. “You just dreamed that you spent the day talking with dead people, or some other impossible situation.”

  “My father,” admitted Krastikon. “Our father. He had reunited Owyllain, forgiven all his enemies, and was ruling as a wise and merciful High King.” His mouth twisted. “Indeed, it had to be a dream.”

  “It would,” said Tamlin. “I just thought I spent the day with Tysia and Sir Aegeus. Peculiar that we should both have a waking delusion at the same time, is it not?”

  “Aye,” said Krastikon. “This has all the hallmarks of the Maledicti. Or maybe the Tower of Nightmares is far more dangerous that we thought. We had better find the Keeper at once.”

  “Agreed,” said Tamlin. “And…”

  A door further down the hallway burst open. Calliande stepped out, holding the staff of the Keeper. Kalussa scrambled after her. Tamlin was astonished to see that Kalussa was naked and that she held her clothing and boots and the Staff of Blades in a mostly futile effort to cover herself. Tamlin didn’t think she even noticed him or Krastikon as she hurried three doors down the hallway and vanished into Calliande’s room.

  “Unless I miss my guess,” said Krastikon, “you and I were not the only ones to suffer dreams of that nature.”

  Tamlin nodded and walked down the hall to where Calliande waited.

  “Keeper,” he said. “What’s happened?”

  “I don’t rightly know,” she said. “Did the two of you experience some sort of waking dream? Or a delusion that you thought was real?”

  Krastikon nodded. “We both did.”

  Calliande’s mouth twisted. “I just spent the day taking care of my daughter.” A haunted look flashed through her eyes, but the cool mask of the Keeper returned. “Kalussa and Calem…”

  “I think we can guess the effect the dream spell had on them,” said Tamlin.

  Calem stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He looked like he had gotten dressed in a hurry, and his face was drawn and strained.

  “Do you know if anyone else was affected?” said Calliande.

  “Melex and his sons were,” said Krastikon. “They were waking up in the common room when the delusion ended.”

  “I see,” said Calliande. “Tamlin, I want you to go have a look around. Take Krastikon and Calem with you.” Tamlin wondered if she wanted to separate Kalussa and Calem. “Do a quick circuit of the town and then get back here as soon as you can. See if there are enemies outside the walls, and find out how many other people were affected. This would be a superb time to attack Kalimnos.”

  Tamlin agreed. If the strange dream spell had affected the entire town, locking every man, woman, and child within their own private delusion, an enemy force would have an easy time marching through the gate and taking over. He wondered if the muridachs had the magical skill to do something like this, or if it was yet another plot of the Maledicti.

  “And see if you can find Ridmark and Third,” said Calliande.

  Krastikon frowned. “Didn’t they go scouting this morning?”

  “They did,” said Calliande, “but I don’t know if they came back or not. I think I remember seeing Ridmark and Third
early today. I…showed them Joanna.” She scowled and shook her head. “But I might have dreamed that as well.”

  “Can your Sight find Oathshield?” said Tamlin.

  Calliande’s eyelids fluttered, her tense expression relaxing somewhat. “Not…precisely. I think it is somewhere north of town. But I can’t tell exactly. That means he’s either inside a powerful warding spell, or he’s underground.”

  “Underground?” said Krastikon, startled.

  “I wonder if there are passages beneath the Tower of Nightmares,” said Tamlin, remembering the ruins of Cathair Valwyn under Aenesium.

  “Go,” said Calliande. “Kalussa and I will keep guard here once she’s ready.”

  “We’ll be back as soon as possible,” said Tamlin.

  “And if we encounter foes,” said Krastikon, “three of the Seven Swords should deal with them.”

  Tamlin nodded and headed to the common room, Calem and Krastikon following him.

  “Sir Tamlin?” said Melex, leaning against a table. The stocky innkeeper looked dazed. “What happened?”

  “We don’t know yet,” said Tamlin. “The Keeper things it was a magical attack of some kind. Stay here and guard the inn.”

  “If you see Tamara, please make sure she’s safe,” said Melex. “We sent her to get nails from the smith…God and the apostles, that was hours ago.”

  “If we find her, we’ll send her here,” said Tamlin.

  He stepped into the agora with Calem and Krastikon. Fortunately, nothing seemed amiss. Tamlin saw people standing around with confused looks on their faces, but there was no immediate signs of any danger. It seemed that the spell had affected the entire town.

  “What happened back there?” said Krastikon to Calem.

  Calem’s face remained a bleak mask. “I…behaved abominably, I fear. Without honor. I did not know what was happening, and I could not stop myself…”

  “I see,” said Tamlin. Calem wanted to be an honorable knight, and Kalussa had a rigid sense of propriety…yes, Tamlin could see how that would upset them both.

  Fear shivered through him as he thought of Tamara. Was she safe? Had he found Tysia again only to lose her once more?

  “Come on,” said Tamlin. “We can act once we know more.”

  But the situation wasn’t nearly as bad as he had feared.

  Most of the men and women of the town had fallen asleep for the day and reported having strange dreams and visions. Nearly all the dreams had been pleasant. Sir Rion called out the militia, gathering the fighting men of Kalimnos in response to a possible attack, but there were no enemies visible outside the walls, and no one had died or even been hurt. A few people had soiled themselves while lying prone, but they hadn’t been unconscious long enough to suffer from hunger or even severe thirst.

  Yet there was no sign of Ridmark, Third, Tamara, or Kyralion, and no one recalled seeing them since Ridmark and Third had left to go scouting this morning.

  Tamlin braced himself to deliver the bad news to Calliande as they returned to the Javelin Inn.

  Yet Calliande looked more hopeful that she had earlier. Kalussa stood next to her, silent and pale in her red tunic and trousers and boots, and she refused to look at Calem.

  “Ridmark’s moving,” said Calliande. “Oathshield is coming south, and I think it’s above ground. And there’s more. The aura around the Tower of Nightmares has disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” said Tamlin, astonished.

  “It seems the most logical conclusion,” said Krastikon, “is that something in the Tower of Nightmares caused the delusions in the town. Lord Ridmark went to deal with it, was successful, and is now returning.”

  “Is Tamara with him?” said Tamlin, trying to keep the fear at bay.

  “I don’t know,” said Calliande, “but it seems logical. Let’s find out. Krastikon, can you stay here and take charge? Tamlin and I will go out and meet Ridmark.”

  “Of course,” said Krastikon, and Calliande started for the door without another word. Tamlin hurried to catch up with her. That woman could walk quickly when she put her mind to it.

  Tamlin glanced back, saw Kalussa and Calem staying well away from each other, and then followed Calliande into the agora.

  “Calem and Kalussa,” said Tamlin. “Did they…”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Calliande. “Kalussa blames herself, and Calem blames himself.”

  Tamlin snorted. “What’s there to blame? They would have slept together eventually at some point.”

  Calliande raised an eyebrow. “They wanted to do it properly, Tamlin. And I know that was the first time for Kalussa, and I’m reasonably sure it was Calem’s first time as well.”

  Tamlin sighed. “And it happened while they were influenced by that damned spell, whatever it was.”

  “Aye,” said Calliande. “But right now, we need to figure out what happened. Ridmark will know, if he’s returning from the Tower of Nightmares.”

  It was also possible, Tamlin knew, that Ridmark had been killed in the Tower of Nightmares and that someone was now carrying his soulblade south.

  But he didn’t say it.

  Calliande knew that already.

  They left the town and hurried north.

  ###

  The Tower of Nightmares rose on its hilltop to the north, and Calliande came to a stop as the sun slipped away beneath the hills to the west.

  Five figures approached from the slope of the hill. Four of them were on foot, and one of them rode upon the back of a struthian lizard. The man at their head wore blue armor and a gray cloak, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his belt.

  A wave of overwhelming relief rolled through Calliande, so strong that it threatened to turn her knees to water.

  Ridmark was still alive. Whatever else had happened, her husband was still alive.

  “That’s Lord Ridmark,” said Tamlin.

  “Aye,” said Calliande, peering through the gathering twilight. “And Tamara’s with him.”

  “Thank God,” said Tamlin.

  “And Kyralion, Third, and…I think that’s Magatai,” said Calliande.

  “They must have a hell of a tale,” said Tamlin.

  “Let’s go hear it,” said Calliande.

  She broke into a jog and hurried up the slope, her eyes sweeping over Ridmark as he and the others came to a stop. He looked exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes, and she saw half-healed cuts on his arms and dried blood on his clothes. He must have been using Oathshield’s limited power to heal himself. Third and Kyralion and Tamara likewise looked tired, though Tamara was carrying a staff of golden metal that glowed with magic to Calliande’s Sight, and Kyralion wore armor and carried a sword of the same metal. Magatai looked extremely satisfied with himself, and for some reason, he bore Kyralion’s enspelled sword at his side.

  “Calliande,” said Ridmark. “Are you…”

  “I’m fine,” said Calliande, which was mostly true. “The entire town was asleep or sleepwalking, but then we woke up. You did something, didn’t you?”

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. “It’s a long story.”

  “Tamara,” said Tamlin, stepping past Calliande. “Are you…”

  She smiled at him. “I am well, Sir Tamlin. And I am pleased to see you awake. More…more pleased than I can say.”

  “What happened?” said Calliande.

  “Well,” said Ridmark. “We had to fight some bad dreams.”

  Chapter 22: Hard Lessons

  The next morning, Ridmark awoke in his bed at the Javelin Inn.

  He was stiff, sore, exhausted, and had a splitting headache, but he felt much better than he had yesterday. Calliande had insisted on healing his wounds even before he had told her what had happened. Ridmark had to admit that made the journey back to Kalimnos much less painful than it would have been otherwise.

  Still, he was tired. He was getting too old for this kind of thing.

  Ridmark laughed at himself as he stood up and stretched his weary m
uscles.

  As if there was any proper age to fight a pair of malevolent undead wizards and their deadly phantasms.

  He stretched again, and the door swung open.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake,” said Calliande. She was holding a tray, and on the tray rested a steaming cup of hot tea, several pieces of fresh-made pita bread, and sliced cheese and sausage. “I had Melex’s saurtyri make you breakfast.”

  Ridmark smiled, kissed her, and sat on the bed, and Calliande sat next to him. “A bit much, isn’t it?”

  “You saved the town,” said Calliande. “Everyone in Kalimnos knows that the Shield Knight went into the Tower of Nightmares and broke the spell. You could have had every piece of food in the kitchen if you wanted.”

  Ridmark snorted. “I had help.”

  “Aye,” said Calliande. “But you were the one who dueled those two Maledicti. And you’re the one who saved your wife.”

  “I had help,” said Ridmark again, his voice quiet.

  “How are you feeling?” said Calliande.

  “Tired,” admitted Ridmark, “but much better than I have any right to feel, thanks to your healing spells.” He wasn’t sure how to ask the next question, so he asked something else instead. “How are the others?”

  “Krastikon and Tamlin are fine,” said Calliande. “I think Tamlin saw Tysia and Aegeus in his dream. And Krastikon dreamed that his father was ruling as a wise and benevolent High King over a reunified Owyllain.”

  Ridmark snorted. “I suppose that is so implausible that Krastikon found it easy to shake off the dream.”

  “There is that,” said Calliande. “But Kalussa and Calem…” She shook her head.

  “Did he force her?” said Ridmark.

  “No,” said Calliande. “He wouldn’t have, even under the influence of the dream. But they both blame themselves. Kalussa thinks she seduced him, and Calem thinks he took advantage of her.”

  “For God’s sake,” said Ridmark. “She practically threw herself at me. Now she seduces Calem, and she’s remorseful?”