Sevenfold Sword: Sorceress

by Jonathan Moeller

  Calliande cast the spell of earth magic, purple fire flickering around her fingers and staff. Her will reached out and sank into the earth, and at once she felt the weight of Ridmark and the others pressing against the ground.

  She also felt the weight of a dozen others approaching from the north a short distance away.

  Calliande cast another spell, drawing on the power of the Well, and thrust her staff. A pulse of white fire erupted from the staff and swept across the ground. It left the others untouched, but the magic of the Well of Tarlion could not harm living mortals, and this wasn’t a spell of attack.

  Rather, it was a spell of dispelling.

  A dozen columns of shadow appeared in the air as her white fire swept past them, and the shadows hardened into dvargir warriors.

  The dvargir each stood around five and a half feet tall, their bodies wider than those of humans, their skin the gray of granite. They wore black armor that seemed to be both somehow shiny and drink the light at the same time, and they carried swords and maces, the weapons forged from the same black steel. The dvargir looked a great deal like dwarves, but unlike dwarves, they shaved their heads hairless, even their eyebrows, and wore rings in their ears and noses. And unlike the dwarves, their eyes were utterly black, filled with the shadow of the void.

  The dvargir froze in surprise.

  “Oh, hell,” muttered Tamlin, bringing up the Sword of Earth.

  The dvargir charged, raising their swords and maces.

  Calliande cast a spell, and Tamara joined her. Earth magic lashed out from their staffs and rushed across the ground, setting it to ripple and fold. Blue fire flashed, and Third appeared behind one of the dvargir. She stunned the dvargir warrior with her lightning-wreathed sword and then launched a killing stab with her second blade. The blue fire swallowed her again, and she vanished before the other dvargir could close around her.

  Tamlin struck next, flinging one of his lightning bolts. The spell stunned two of the dvargir, and the black-armored figures staggered. Both Tamlin and Calem leaped into them, slashing right and left with the Swords of Earth and Air, and they carved a path through the dvargir. Krastikon and Ridmark crashed into the enemy a moment later, white fire flickering around Oathshield as the soulblade responded to the dark magic within the dvargir. Kalussa thrust the Staff of Blades, and a crystalline blur shot from the end of the weapon and exploded out the back of an unfortunate dvargir’s head.

  The battle was over in a moment. Ridmark, Third, Tamlin, Calem, and Krastikon hammered through the dvargir, and Tamara and Kalussa both threw their magic into the fray. Three of the dvargir whirled and tried to flee the valley, but Magatai shot down two of them, and Third caught the final one.

  “They must not have been ready for us,” said Krastikon as Calliande looked over the bodies. “Else we would not have overpowered them so easily.”

  “The Swords gave us an advantage,” said Tamlin. “The steel of the dvargir chews up bronze quickly. A bronze sword is ruined after a fight with them.”

  “No,” said Calliande, pointing with the end of her staff. “No, they were ready for us, and they were planning to take us in our sleep. Look at this.”

  One of the dvargir had a set of metal loops hanging from his belt. It was a metal collar, connected with a set of heavy chains to two wristbands of black metal. Calliande’s Sight saw the waiting dark magic in the collar, and she realized that all the dvargir carried similar restraints.

  “What are those?” said Kalussa.

  “Collars for binding users of magic,” said Calliande. “If that is around a wizard’s neck, he cannot use a spell without intolerable pain. The Sculptor put one on me in Khald Tormen a long time ago. I managed to break free, but it took days.”

  Kalussa shivered. “Then they…they really were here for us?”

  “It would seem so,” said Calliande. “Probably they planned to creep up on us as we slept and put those collars on us.”

  “God and the saints,” said Krastikon. “Do you think the Maledicti sent them?”

  “Perhaps,” said Magatai. “But the dvargir slavers do as they will, and think only of their own profit. Even in the days when they served the Sovereign, they always made sure they profited from their service. They often prey upon the Takai and launch treacherous ambushes.”

  “They might have nothing to do with the Maledicti,” said Ridmark. “They might have stumbled upon us and decided to take their chances.”

  “Or,” said Calliande, “they know we have three of the Seven Swords and want to seize them. Perhaps capturing us as slaves was merely a bonus.”

  “If so, they overreached themselves in their greed,” said Third. “The sensible course of action would have been to kill us in our sleep. Likely the kobolds were intended to draw our attention.”

  “I will not be a slave again,” said Calem, his voice hard. “I will die fighting first.”

  “As will I,” said Tamlin.

  “Well,” said Ridmark, “better to make the dvargir die fighting first. Let’s move. We can’t camp here, and the sooner we are gone from this valley, the better.”

  They continued on, following the ancient road higher into the foothills.

  Chapter 10: The Immortal One

  Ridmark fought down a yawn as they set off the next morning.

  They had traveled for several more hours last night, leaving the dead dvargir and kobolds behind. After a few miles, they had found a hilltop suitable to serve as a camp. It was wide enough to hold everyone and commanded a good view of the road and the surrounding hills. Out of necessity, they did without a fire, and Calliande, Tamara, and Krastikon took turns keeping watch. Calliande and Tamara both knew the earth-sensing spell that let them sense the weight of invisible creatures, and Calliande taught the spell to Krastikon without much difficulty.

  But they saw no sign of any enemies, whether dvargir, kobold, or jastaani.

  Ridmark awoke tired, and he had the oddest sensation that he had forgotten a nightmare. For a moment, just a moment, he seemed to remember a leafless, mist-choked forest and a ring of dark elven standing stones, and then the memory slipped from his grasp. Ridmark had seen many such circles of standing stones in Andomhaim, and no doubt he had dreamed of them.

  He put the misgivings aside. There were far more dangerous things to worry about.

  “At a guess, how much farther?” said Ridmark, glancing up at the mountains.

  “About ten, twelve miles,” said Tamlin, looking at the ancient road. “We’re not far. If we’re not delayed, and the road stays in good condition, we will probably arrive just before sunset today.”

  Ridmark nodded. “Third, Magatai, and I will scout ahead and to the north and the east. Calliande, Tamara, and Krastikon will stay close and keep that spell of earth magic active at all times. With luck, we can reach the monastery’s ruins before the dvargir or the jastaani find us again.”

  “Sir Tamlin,” said Magatai from Northwind’s saddle. “Magatai has a thought.”

  “Oh?” said Tamlin.

  “When King Justin destroyed the monastery,” said Magatai, “how badly was it damaged?”

  “Badly enough,” said Tamlin. “He used the Sword of Earth to shatter the gate and tear some breaches in the curtain wall. Then his soldiers set all the buildings on fire.”

  “But he did not smash the buildings?” said Magatai. “The monastery was a strong castra, was it not? And King Justin did not use the power of the Sword of Earth to destroy it utterly?”

  “I…don’t know,” Tamlin admitted. “When I was carried off with the rest of the captives, the keep and the outbuildings had all burned, but the walls were still standing. Why do you ask?”

  “Because a strong castra is a difficult thing to build,” said Magatai. “Much easier to take one that someone else has built. It occurs to Magatai that someone else might have moved into the monastery and fortified it anew.”

  “Someone such as the dvargir slavers?” said Ridmark.

  �
�That is a disturbing thought,” said Calliande. “We should have realized it sooner.”

  Ridmark shook his head. “This is such a remote place. Why would anyone bother to fortify a monastery here, save for the monks? No. We’ll have to scout ahead. If the dvargir or anyone else has fortified the monastery, it should be obvious from a distance.”

  “If an enemy holds the monastery, we’ll have to take the place by storm,” said Tamlin.

  Kalussa shrugged. “We took Castra Chaeldon.”

  “We had an army then,” said Tamlin. “Right now, we just have nine of us.”

  “Fear not, Sir Tamlin!” said Magatai. “One Takai warrior is worth at least ten lesser men. Maybe even eleven.”

  “Perhaps even twelve,” said Tamara with a straight face.

  “Mmm. Magatai will consider this.”

  “And we do have three of the Seven Swords,” said Kalussa.

  Ridmark shook his head. “If someone is holding the castra, we won’t try to storm it. We’ll sneak inside, free Cathala, and get out of there. We’re here to find answers, not to fight a war with the dvargir slavers.”

  They climbed the slope of a hill and came to the lip of another shallow valley, this one perhaps a half-mile across. More boulders littered the valley, and the road continued its climb on the northern side. The foothills of the Gray Mountains had been covered in grass and dotted with small trees, and the men of Kalimnos had hewn the hills near their town into terraces that supported rich crops. The foothills of the Tower Mountains were barren and dry, with insufficient soil for anything to grow. Any streams they encountered passed swiftly towards the morass of the Serpent Marshes to the west.

  Ridmark took a step forward, and Third came to a sudden stop.

  “Ridmark,” she said, looking at the sky.

  Ridmark stopped and followed her gaze and spotted the dark shape circling overhead.

  “The Scythe,” said Calliande. “I can see the dark magic around her.”

  Ridmark nodded, his hand tightening against his staff. “Then we can expect another attack soon.”

  “Yes,” said Third. “She would not show herself unless she was ready to move.”

  “And I believe she is ready to move now,” said Magatai, pointing with his bow. “Look!”

  At the other end of the valley, Ridmark saw a band of figures come over the rise of the hill. Bronze armor flashed in the sun, and he heard the rasp of claws against the stony ground.

  Dozens of jastaani warriors approached, with dozens more following them.

  ###

  Calliande gripped her staff, calling the magic of the Well to her and feeding it through the Keeper’s mantle.

  She would need all the magical power she could summon very soon.

  “Calem, Tamlin, Krastikon, Third, with me,” said Ridmark, Oathshield in his right hand and his staff in his left. “Calliande, Kalussa, Tamara, stay together and work your spells. We’ll keep the jastaani away from you. Magatai, can Northwind outrun the jastaani?”

  “Northwind can outrun the wind itself!” said Magatai.

  “Good,” said Ridmark, looking into the valley. The jastaani had stopped halfway between the northern and southern slopes of the valley, and Calliande could tell they were forming themselves for a charge. She wondered what the jastaani were doing here. Had they followed Calliande and the others from the Serpent Marshes? Or had the Scythe found them and led the jastaani here?

  Either way, they would have to fight.

  “Then you know what to do,” said Ridmark. “Stay ahead of the jastaani and shoot arrows into them. That will throw them off their guard. Horse archers can be deadly in the right circumstances.”

  “Horse archers?” said Magatai. “What is a horse?” Calliande supposed he had never seen one or had even heard of the beasts. Right now, looking at the jastaani, Calliande wished she had a horse or a hundred mounted knights clothed in steel.

  On the other hand, perhaps the jastaani would have killed the horses, and they would have to fight on foot anyway.

  “Struthian-mounted archers,” corrected Ridmark. Oathshield flickered in his hand, the soulstones in the tang and the pommel of the sword glowing, and white flame started to flicker around the blade. The soulblade was reacting to the presence of a creature of dark magic, probably the Scythe. Calliande sent the Sight seeking for the urdhracos, and she spotted the concentration of dark magic beyond the northern edge of the valley. It seemed the Scythe was keeping out of sight, waiting for the correct moment to strike.

  And more dark magic came to Calliande’s Sight, but power unlike anything she had ever seen before.

  It was a kind of healing magic but twisted and warped. It had been the same kind of magic, she realized, that had bound the nine-headed hydra and driven the creature to a frenzied rage. It also seemed like the aura she had seen around Rhodruthain in Tarlion. Yet there had been no trace of dark magic in Rhodruthain’s aura, and the power she saw now was infused with malignant darkness. Had Rhodruthain turned to dark magic? Calliande disliked the Guardian enough that she believed him capable of anything, but she had not seen any evidence that Rhodruthain was using dark magic.

  Or was this some other wizard, one she had not encountered before?

  “Ridmark,” said Calliande, and her husband looked at her. “There’s a wizard nearby, a powerful one.”

  Ridmark let out a long breath. “Then we’ll have to be ready to fight him, whoever he is.”

  He started to say something else, and one of the jastaani began bellowing in a strange language.

  “Somehow I doubt he’s inviting us to tea,” said Tamara, purple fire flickering along the length of her golden staff.

  “No,” said Calliande as the jastaani continued his oration. This jastaani was probably the leader and wore an ornate helm with a crimson plume, golden designs on his armor and bracers. Likely the jastaani was giving his warriors a rousing speech before they went into battle, but Calliande had the sudden feeling that the leader was in fact leading them in prayer.

  “Janaab Kal!” roared the leader.

  “Janaab Kal!” screamed the warriors, and they struck their swords and spears against their shields with a ringing clang.

  “Janaab Kal!” bellowed the leader once more.

  “Janaab Kal!” answered the warriors, and they charged forward, shields raised, swords and spears drawn back to strike. They were running at full tilt up the slope but managed to maintain their formation, presenting a wall of shields towards their enemies. Calliande was impressed.

  She would have to do something about that.

  Her staff shone with purple fire as she cast the earth-rippling spell, forcing it through the mantle of the Keeper for additional strength. The ground folded and heaved, and Tamara sent her own spell a half-second after Calliande. The neat formation of the jastaani warriors dissolved into chaos and Kalussa began flinging crystalline spheres while Magatai loosed arrows.

  The jastaani leaped back to their feet with catlike grace, and Ridmark and the others charged. Third disappeared in a flash of blue fire, leaving a dead jastaani warrior in her wake. She reappeared behind a pair of jastaani driving at Ridmark and distracted them long enough for Ridmark to cut them both down. Calem and Tamlin wheeled through the jastaani like a storm, the Swords of Earth and Air slashing through the creatures, and Krastikon accepted blows on his shield and armor and repaid them with killing strikes from the Sword of Death.

  Calliande called on the magic of the Well and cast an augmentation spell, dividing her power among Ridmark, Calem, Krastikon, and Tamlin. They began to move faster, her magic granting them additional speed, and they cut down jastaani after jastaani.

  ###

  A jastaani warrior stabbed at Tamlin, and he parried with the Sword of Earth, turning the blade so the weapon shattered the bronze sword in the jastaani’s clawed hand. The jastaani recovered at once, raising his shield in guard. The move was perfectly executed, and it was also useless. The Sword of Earth cut through th
e shield as if it had been paper, and the jastaani fell dead.

  Tamlin retracted his sword before he became overbalanced, seeking another foe.

  A quick look around showed that they were winning. The jastaani were skilled and deadly warriors, but they had no weapons to match Oathshield and the three Swords, and their armor and shields were no defense from the deadly edges of the Swords. Furthermore, they had no wizards to counteract the magic of Calliande and Tamara, and Kalussa rained crystal spheres upon them as Magatai sent arrows punching into their flesh.

  Another jastaani warrior sprang at Tamlin, and he dodged around the warrior’s spear and thrust his left hand at his foe. Arcs of lightning sprang from his fingers and plunged into the jastaani, and the creature stumbled for a half-second. The jastaani started to recover almost at once, but it was too late. Tamlin slashed down with the Sword of Earth, and the green blade sheared through both the bronze helmet and the jaguar-like face.

  The warrior fell to the ground, blood staining the stones.

  A jastaani voice bellowed a command, and the surviving warriors raced back down the slope, leaving their dead scattered across the ground. Tamlin risked a quick look around and saw that none of his friends had fallen. But over a third of the jastaani had been killed. Tamlin wondered why the enemy had attacked with so little chance of success.

  The jastaani retreated to the bottom of the valley, and a second group of jastaani came over the northern slope, moving to join their comrades. A dark shape hovered over the jastaani warriors, and Tamlin saw the Scythe flying overhead, her longsword of dark elven steel in her armored hand.

  And with the jastaani glided a figure swathed in golden robes.