“Because of the Seven Swords,” said Ridmark.
“Aye,” said Tamlin. “If they knew that we had three of the Seven Swords with us, they might attack and take those Swords for themselves.”
“But they permit trade in Najaris?” said Calliande.
“Oh, yes,” said Tamlin. “It’s said that anything can be bought or sold in Najaris. Gems, poisons, drugs, slaves, tomes of dark magic, one’s own soul…anything at all, so long as you do not violate the peace of the city.”
“That sounds like Khaldurmar,” said Third.
Krastikon frowned. “You have been to Khaldurmar?”
“Yes,” said Third. “I do not recommend it.”
“Like the dvargir, the xiatami keep their word when given,” said Tamlin, “but if they can find a way to keep the letter of their agreements while violating the spirit, they will not hesitate to do so.”
“What manner of gods do they worship?” said Calliande. “It seems safe to assume that they are not followers of the Dominus Christus.”
“They are not,” said Tamlin. “As far as anyone knows, they worship one of their own gods. Their priests are called Intercessors, and they regularly offer blood sacrifices to their god. Usually taken from their slaves, of course.” His mouth twisted. “I heard a rumor that the xiatami began holding gladiatorial games lately. No doubt the dvargir are happy to provide slaves for that as well.”
Ridmark frowned. “Then the dvargir slavers work for the xiatami as well?”
“They do indeed, friend Ridmark,” said Magatai. “Dvargir slavers often issue forth from the Deeps in hopes of capturing Takai to sell in both Najaris and Urd Maelwyn.”
Ridmark grunted. “Then we’ll need to be doubly cautious. The xiatami might prefer to stay at home and avoid trouble, but the dvargir slavers do not.” A thought occurred to him. “Did the Sovereign conquer the xiatami?”
“He needn’t have bothered,” said Tamlin. “Like the muridachs, the xiatami did whatever the Sovereign asked instead of risking his displeasure. They were his vassals for millennia. But they must have disliked it, for they sided with Kothlaric quickly enough when they saw a chance of overcoming the Sovereign.”
“Aye, he was feared, but never loved,” said Tamlin.
“Do you think the dvargir slavers will risk attacking us?” said Kalussa, casting a nervous look into the swamp.
“Possibly,” said Third. “The dvargir slavers are cunning, but they are only infrequently bold. They are wise enough to attack only weakened targets that cannot fight back.” She shrugged. “And if they do attack, perhaps they will regret their folly once you send crystalline spheres through their foreheads.”
“Or when Magatai puts arrows through their throats,” said Magatai. “The Takai are a free people, and do not tolerate slavers.”
“Nor do the men of Andomhaim,” said Ridmark, though he knew Tarrabus Carhaine had sold some of his freeholders to the dvargir to help finance his attempted usurpation of the throne. But Tarrabus had been dead for eight years, and Ridmark had more immediate concerns than the shadows of the past. He hoped they could reach the Monastery of St. James without encountering the swamp trolls, hydras, dvargir slavers, or the xiatami.
Hope or not, he knew they were unlikely to be that fortunate.
For the first hour, they saw no one else on the road or in the surrounding swamps. Twice Third spotted lone swamp trolls in the distance, and once Ridmark glimpsed one of the creatures swimming below the water like a giant ugly fish. Yet the trolls never drew any nearer. Perhaps their previous encounter had taught the trolls caution. Or maybe the xiatami regularly attacked any trolls who used the causeway.
Or maybe the swamp trolls were preparing an ambush further down the road.
About an hour before noon, Third came to an abrupt stop.
“What is it?” said Ridmark.
“I think I see something strange ahead,” said Third.
Ridmark looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, and he didn’t see any signs of enemies, whether on the causeway or in the marshes. The xiatami must have regularly chopped down any trees or bushes that tried to grow along the top of the causeway, but ahead was a young tree, moss already hanging from its branches.
“Go ahead,” said Ridmark.
Third nodded and disappeared in a pulse of blue fire.
“Calliande?” said Ridmark.
Third reappeared next to the tree, looked around, and then started examining the trunk.
Calliande blinked a few times as she drew on the Sight. “I don’t see any magic nearby.”
Third nodded to herself, plucked something from the tree, lifted it to her nose, and disappeared in another swirl of blue flame.
She reappeared in front of Ridmark, holding something in her left hand.
“I thought so,” she said. “The color was wrong for the tree.”
In her hand she held a small dart, the end adorned with a crimson feather. The dart came to a wicked-looking point. The tip had been smeared with a dark liquid.
“What is it?” said Calliande.
“A dart,” said Ridmark. “Probably poisoned.”
“It is,” said Third. “I do not recognize the poison, but it gives off a strong odor. I suspect it is a sleeping poison of some kind. Most probably the dart was fired from a blowgun.”
“Magatai,” said Ridmark. “Do any of the kindreds of the Serpent Marshes use blowguns?”
“Not that I have heard, friend Ridmark,” said Magatai. “The xiatami prefer to fight with swords, bows, and magic. The trolls disdain weapons and employ their claws and teeth.”
“The dvargir slavers, maybe?” said Kalussa.
Tamlin shook his head. “They use nets, chains, and sleeping gas.”
“Someone new, then,” said Ridmark. “We’ll have to keep our eyes open.”
Krastikon snorted. “We were going to do that anyway.”
“Then we have all the more reason to do it,” said Ridmark. “Let’s keep moving.”
###
Calliande’s unease grew as they traveled further southeast.
Several times during the day, she had the sensation of unseen eyes upon her. Calliande had been hunted by creatures of dark magic enough times in her life to know when something was watching her, and she kept her guard up. She sent the Sight spiraling around them, seeking for unseen foes, and every time she found nothing. Whatever was following them was not a creature of dark magic.
But something was following them. Calliande was certain of it.
The others felt it as well. Hands hovered near sword hilts, and Magatai rode atop Northwind with an arrow resting in his bow. Calliande saw the aura of power around both Tamara and Kalussa as they held their magic ready. Come to think of it, the swamps had gone quiet. The droning buzz of insects never ceased, but the calls of birds and the splashing of other creatures in the swamp had fallen silent.
“There!” said Ridmark, pointing with his staff.
Calliande looked north. She couldn’t see anything at first, but then a rippling distortion caught her eye.
Something was moving along one of the grassy islands, something that blended with the colors around it.
“I see it,” said Calliande.
Before she could react, Third vanished in a pulse of blue fire. She reappeared on the island a few yards from the rippling distortion. For an instant, neither Third nor the distortion moved, and then it shot away with terrific speed, seeming to elongate as it did so. Third stood motionless for a moment and then vanished.
She reappeared next to Ridmark.
“An urvaalg?” said Ridmark.
“I do not believe so,” said Third. “It was on two feet at first.”
“Urvaalgs can move on their hind legs,” said Calliande.
“They don’t prefer it,” said Ridmark, “and they usually only do so when attacking. Did you see any tracks?”
“I did,” said Third, “and they were not urvaalg tracks.” She seemed puzzled,
which was unusual. There were not many creatures that Third had never before encountered. “I did not recognize the tracks, though they looked somewhat like the paws of a great hunting cat.”
“A cat?” said Calliande. “Like a lion?”
“There are no hunting cats in the Serpent Marshes,” said Magatai, voice grim. “Of that, Magatai is certain. Cats do not like to get wet. There are lions in the Takai Steppes, and jaguars in the Illicaeryn Jungle, but no cats in the marshes.”
“And it was walking on its hind legs,” said Third. “I did not get a good look at it, but I was certain of that. It only went to all fours to run from me.”
Ridmark grunted. “It must have been following us and watching from a distance.”
“A giant lion,” said Tamlin, voice distant. “I wonder…”
“What is it?” said Calliande.
“There was a book I read in the monastery library as a child,” said Tamlin. “An old book, from the first century of Owyllain’s history after Connmar Pendragon founded Aenesium. The author claimed to have traveled beyond the Tower Mountains and visited the lands on the far side of the continent.”
“Only tribes of nomadic orcs dwell beyond the Tower Mountains,” said Magatai. “Some kobold tribes as well. They make war against each other constantly.”
“This author claimed to have traveled even farther,” said Tamlin. “He said that a kindred who call themselves the jastaani dwelt far beyond the Tower Mountains. They look like men with the heads of jaguars, and they live in cities fashioned of jade and crystal.”
Krastikon snorted. “That sounds like a fanciful tale, Sir Tamlin. No doubt this author claimed that the fountains of the jastaani cities ran with wine, the streets were paved with gold, and that in the heart of their lands, seven virgin priestesses stand guard forever over the Holy Grail of the Dominus Christus.”
Tamlin shrugged. “I can only repeat what the book said. But Lady Third’s account of a giant, cat-like footprint brought the story to my mind.”
“It does sound fanciful,” said Kalussa.
“Aye,” said Calliande. “But many things sound unbelievable until you see them with your own eyes. Most of the men of Owyllain believed that the gray elves lived in nomadic bands, and then we fought for our lives on the walls of Cathair Caedyn. Or you thought that Andomhaim had been destroyed by the urdmordar centuries ago, and then Ridmark and I walked into the battle for Castra Chaeldon.”
“It is also possible,” said Third, “that the creature we saw was a new kind of dark elven war beast, one that we have not encountered before. Urvaalgs and ursaars have something of the same ability to blend with their surroundings.”
“If given a choice,” said Krastikon, “I would rather face those jastaani things than a dark elven war beast.”
“Well, let’s keep moving,” said Ridmark. “Perhaps if we move fast enough, we can avoid both the jastaani and any creatures of dark magic.”
He took a step forward and stopped.
“Or not,” he said.
Calliande followed his gaze, and a wave of alarm went through her.
Perhaps fifty yards to the southeast, the road atop the causeway rippled and shimmered, like the air over the ground on a hot day. But while it was hot and damp in the marsh, this section of the causeway was shaded by the massive, moss-choked trees rising from the water. There was no reason for the air to ripple like that.
And what was more, the distortion was drawing closer.
Which meant dozens of the mysterious creatures were approaching.
“Get ready,” said Ridmark, shifting his staff to his left hand and drawing Oathshield with his right. “We will likely have to fight.”
###
Tamlin drew the Sword of Earth, planted himself in front of Tamara, and waited.
His skin crawled at the sight of the distortion. His instincts screamed that urvaalgs were approaching, and every battle with urvaalgs had been a harrowing experience. Yet the distortions in the air looked wrong. Truth be told, they seemed too large to be urvaalgs.
Tamlin called power, sparks crackling around his left hand. He saw the others raise weapons or start spells. Ridmark remained motionless, staff in his left hand, sword in his right. Oathshield’s blade hadn’t started to burn, which meant that whatever caused the strange distortions in the air was not a creature of dark magic.
The distortions came to an abrupt halt, and suddenly they vanished.
In their place stood dozens of warriors, swords and spears in hand.
Several details struck Tamlin’s mind.
The first detail was the cloaks. Every warrior wore a cloak of strange design, the colors rippling and shifting up and down its length. Tamlin realized that the cloaks blended with their surroundings, their colors shifting to match the landscape. The warriors had only become visible when they had thrown back their cloaks for battle.
The second thing that Tamlin noticed was the warriors’ heads.
They had the heads of jaguars.
Each warrior stood between five and six feet tall and wore a bronze cuirass, a bronze helmet, and a leather kilt that came to their knees. Their arms and legs were covered in golden fur marked with countless black spots, and their heads looked like those of jaguars, with the same golden eyes, whiskers, and gleaming white fangs. The warriors also had tails curling behind them. They had human-like hands and fingers, albeit tipped with razor-edge claws, and their feet looked like the paws of great cats. The underside of their fingers had thick paws, which likely permitted them to run on all fours when necessary. Likely Third had encountered one of their scouts.
“Looks like that author wasn’t writing fanciful tales after all,” said Krastikon, his shield flickering with purple light.
“Indeed not,” said Tamlin. “These must be jastaani.”
“Have you ever encountered them, Third?” said Ridmark.
She gave a quick shake of her head, her black braid lashing against her gray cloak. “I have not. They look akin to the manetaurs and the tygrai of Andomhaim, but I have never seen these creatures before.”
“Whoever they are,” said Magatai, “it is clear they desire a fight. Magatai will be glad to oblige them.”
“Let us pass in peace!” shouted Ridmark in the orcish tongue. Tamlin wondered if the jastaani understood that language. “Let us pass, and we shall do the same for you. This need not end in bloodshed.”
One of the jastaani stepped forward, a bronze sword glittering in his left hand. His armor looked more ornate than the others, a plume of brilliant red feathers marking the crest of his helmet. Probably he was the leader. The jastaani leader shouted something in an unknown language, his voice a purring snarl, and then his voice rose to a scream.
“Janaab Kal!” he roared.
“Janaab Kal!” screamed his warriors.
“Janaab Kal!” shrieked the leader again, and he pointed his sword at Ridmark.
“Calliande!” said Ridmark as the jastaani moved.
The front rank of the jastaani warriors, over a score of them, raised blowguns to their muzzles.
But Calliande was ready. The Keeper struck the end of her staff against the ground, and a shimmering wall of white light rose up to stretch across the top of the causeway. The jastaani loosed a volley of darts, and they shot with terrifying speed and accuracy. Had the darts struck their marks, a half-dozen would have found Ridmark. Instead, they hit Calliande’s ward and rebounded.
The jastaani leader howled something, and the warriors lifted their faces to the sky and screamed. It sounded exactly like the howls of hunting cats, and it made the hair on the back of Tamlin’s neck stand up.
The jastaani raised their swords and charged, still screaming their terrible cries.
“Defend yourselves!” said Ridmark, raising his sword and his staff.
Calliande and Tamara struck first, casting a spell that made the earth of the road ripple and snap like a banner in a strong wind. The spell threw the charging jastaani from their f
eet, and Kalussa sent a crystal sphere hurtling from the end of the Staff of Blades. The sphere exploded through a jastaani warrior’s skull, and Tamlin just had time to note that their blood was red.
Then he charged as Ridmark, Calem, and Krastikon surged forward, Magatai sending arrow after arrow humming from his bow. Blue fire pulsed and Third appeared behind one jastaani, stabbed the creature through the chest, and disappeared before the others could close on her.
By then Tamlin had closed, and he thrust out his left hand, releasing the magical power he had gathered. A forked bolt of lightning leaped from his fingers, striking two of the jastaani. He hadn’t put enough power into the spell to be lethal, but the lightning stunned the jastaani warriors all the same. That gave Tamlin the time he needed to attack, and he swept the Sword of Earth in a sideways cut that sliced a jastaani in half. The second jastaani recovered and slashed his sword at Tamlin’s head, and he raised the Sword of Earth in guard. The bronze sword struck Tamlin’s blade and shattered, and the jastaani stumbled, golden eyes widening with surprise.
Tamlin took off his head with a swift chop of the Sword of Earth.
He spun, seeking new foes as his friends carved into the jastaani. Tamlin had never thought that a man could fight with a longsword and a quarterstaff at the same time, but not only did Ridmark Arban do it, but he also did it well. He used the staff as a shield, blocking and deflecting the attacks of his enemies, Oathshield delivering killing blows. Third spun through the battle, using her lightning-wreathed sword to stun her foes, followed by lethal stabs from her fire-wreathed blade. Krastikon hammered his way through the jastaani, catching their attacks on his spell-reinforced armor, pounding through their defenses with the Sword of Death. Calem followed in his wake, covering Krastikon’s back and cutting down the jastaani with quick flicks from the Sword of Air. His fighting style was less brutal than Krastikon’s but no less effective.
Magatai hung back from the fighting, shouting threats and boasts in the Takai tongue as he sent his arrows humming into the foe. Tamara and Kalussa stood side-by-side. Kalussa hurling spheres of crystal from the Staff of Blades, while Tamara cast bolts of lightning or globes of fire. Calliande did not use any elemental magic, but instead drew on the power of the Well of Tarlion, casting spells of augmentation to make the others faster and stronger.
Sevenfold Sword: Sorceress Page 7
