Sevenfold Sword: Sorceress

by Jonathan Moeller

  The creature that shuffled towards them now lacked even that faint connection to sanity.

  It had once been the corpse of a long-dead monk, Tamlin was sure of it. He saw the crumbling brown robe, saw the yellowing bones jutting here and there from the mass of glistening, ambulatory flesh. Yet the Maledictus of Life had used his sorcery to reanimate and regenerate the corpse, and the soulless horror looked like a twisted hybrid of squid, slug, insect, and tumor.

  The creature lunged towards Tamara, and Tamlin snarled and attacked.

  An old, hideous memory flickered through him. He remembered King Justin’s attack on the monastery, remembered desperately running to his mother’s side. Cathala had possessed powerful magic, and Tamlin’s younger self had been certain that she could save him and Tysia, that her magic would destroy the attackers.

  Instead, Cathala had been turned to stone, the dvargir slavers had taken Tamlin, and the long nightmare of Urd Maelwyn had begun.

  But Tamlin wasn’t a boy any longer. He was a Knight of the Order of the Arcanii, and he bore the Sword of Earth. And he wasn’t going to let anything hurt Tamara, no matter what he had to do.

  He attacked the shambling horror, and he swept the Sword of Earth before him in a downward blow. The green blade sheared through the creature without slowing, and it fell in two pieces to the ground. At once the two halves hauled themselves up, new tentacles sprouting from their surfaces like grass from a field, but Calliande cast a spell. A burst of white fire lanced from her hand and drilled into the first half. The creature shuddered and collapsed, dissolving into black slime, and Tamlin slashed at the second half. It fell into two parts, both of them crawling forward under their own power, and Calliande destroyed one with another burst of white fire. Ridmark killed the second with a quick stab from Oathshield. White fire blazed from the soulblade, and the unnatural creature shuddered and collapsed to the flagstones.

  “God and the apostles, that was a nasty thing,” said Krastikon, scanning the battlements of the keep for the Maledictus of Life.

  “And that’s not the only one,” said Calliande. “Get ready! Here they come!”

  The ground shivered again, and dozens of small craters exploded throughout the courtyard, dust and rock chips raining in all directions.

  ###

  Ridmark tossed aside his staff, took Oathshield in both hands, and charged.

  The abominations had risen from the earth, dozens of them. The creatures had no commonality in their appearance, no uniformity. They had once been the skeletons of long-dead monks, and hideous new flesh had grown around their bodies. One of the resultant creatures looked like an ambulatory squid. Another had grown bony armor like a turtle’s shell, and still another looked like a slug, with dozens of eyestalks and fang-lined mouths covering its glistening body. Each one of the creatures was deadly quick, and despite their cumbersome appearances, they moved with fluid grace.

  Even worse, the creatures regenerated constantly. Calem cut one into pieces with quick strokes from the Sword of Air, and the pieces became smaller creatures, growing limbs and claws and pincers. Kalussa sent spheres of crystal shooting through the abominations. The Staff of Blades was a deadly weapon, but against the abominations, it was useless. The spheres punched through the creatures like putty, but the wounds closed at once. Kalussa and Tamara tried using spells of fire and acidic mist against the abominations. Fire and acid could stop swamp trolls from regenerating, and while the magic wounded the abominations, the creatures healed at once, so fast that it was as if nothing had happened.

  This was the power of life, but corrupted and twisted and enslaved to a dark will. Qazaldhar had worked plagues and blood curses. The Maledictus of Shadows had called delusions and hallucinations to choke the mind, and Mhazhama had wielded deadly strokes of lightning. The Immortal One commanded the raw power of life itself, but life twisted and perverted into a nightmare.

  And Ridmark and Calliande had the only weapons that could destroy the creatures.

  Oathshield burned through the twisted power animating the creatures, reducing them to pools of stinking black slime. Calliande hurled shafts of white fire, directing the power of the Well of Tarlion and no doubt augmenting it with the Keeper’s mantle. Kalussa tried, using the new spells that Calliande had taught her as an apprentice Magistria, but she lacked the raw power of the Keeper and could only stagger the abominations.

  The others fell back. Tamlin, Krastikon, and Calem had to fight defensively, since using the three Swords to cut apart the abominations only created more of them. Third and Magatai used their lightning-wreathed swords to stun the creatures. Selene fought with blinding skill, her longsword whipping around her in a blue blur, but she barely kept the abominations at bay.

  Calliande cast spells as fast as she could, but there were too many of the creatures. Soon Ridmark and the others were surrounded, fighting back-to-back as the abominations closed around them in a ring.

  Ridmark had only one option left.

  “Keep them off Calliande!” shouted Ridmark, and he stepped back, Oathshield held before him, and concentrated on his link to the soulblade. A few heartbeats, he just needed a few heartbeats. One of the abominations bounded towards him, reaching for his neck with its tentacles, but Kalussa hit it with a shaft of white fire. Ridmark would have thanked her, but his entire concentration went to his link with Oathshield.

  And he unlocked the power of the Shield Knight once more.

  White fire erupted from the soulblade, encasing him in blue armor as strength and vitality surged through him. Ridmark didn’t hesitate but charged at once, even as the creature that Kalussa had staggered recovered its balance and attacked. The creature lashed at him with barbed tentacles, but the armor of the Shield Knight absorbed the attack. Ridmark swung Oathshield, and the soulblade bit deep into the shapeless horror. The white fire poured into the wound, and the creature fell over and dissolved into black slime.

  Ridmark threw himself into the creatures, making no effort to defend himself, trusting in the armor to turn aside any blows. Again and again, the abominations attacked him, but the claws and fangs and tentacles and pincers rebounded from the plates of blue steel. Ridmark cut down creature after creature, and the abominations focused on him, realizing that he was the most dangerous threat. They tried to swarm him, attempting to pin his arms and bury him beneath sheer weight, but the magical strength of the armor let him shove them off. Calliande and Kalussa struck as the creatures tried to bury Ridmark, using the white fire of the Well to destroy the abominations. Third and Magatai attacked from the sides, using their lightning-wreathed swords to stun the horrors.

  Some distant part of Ridmark’s mind noted that it was just like chopping wood. Cut down one creature, and move on to the next. He felt the rain of blows hammer against his armor, felt his grip upon the terrible power of the Shield Knight waver from the battering. Ridmark could only hold his grasp on that mighty power for a short time, and the more the armor was hit, the harder it became for him to hold the power.

  It was a race. Could he cut down the abominations before the power of the Shield Knight failed him? Ridmark fought on, forgetting everything except his foes and the blasts of white fire that howled past him to strike the creatures. The magical armor gave him strength and speed, and he used that strength to the fullest, hammering down creature after creature as they bit and slashed and clawed at him.

  There were only three left when he lost his grip on the Shield Knight’s power.

  Ridmark stumbled as the armor dissolved into white flame and vanished, its strength and vitality leaving him. But he used the momentum of his stumble to carry him forward, adding it to the power of his next thrust. Oathshield sank into the twisted flesh, and the soulblade’s white fire burned through the abomination, turning it to black slime. Ridmark ripped the soulblade free and spun just in time to intercept the lash of a barbed tentacle aimed at his face. Oathshield sheared through the tentacle and sent it flopping to the ground, and Ridmark took
off the mass of eyestalks and snapping pincers that served as the creature’s head. Body and head both fell to the ground and dissolved into black slime.

  Exhaustion hammered through Ridmark as the final creature came at him, and he dodged, sidestepped, and plunged Oathshield into the center of the glistening mass. He wasn’t sure if the twisted things had hearts or even internal organs at all, but Oathshield must have hit something important, because the creature shuddered, collapsed, and dissolved into a stinking pool of black slime.

  Ridmark stepped back, stumbled, and dropped to one knee, breathing hard. The exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but the magic of Antenora’s bracer kept the fatigue from crushing him as it had in the past when he had called on the Shield Knight’s power.

  “Ridmark!” Calliande hurried to his side, looking him over with an alarmed eye.

  “I’m fine,” said Ridmark, and he managed to get the words out without gasping as he caught his breath. “Just tired. Check the others.” He saw blood streaming down Krastikon’s arm, saw a gash across Calem’s face. “Tentacles might have been poisoned.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” said Calliande, and she turned towards Calem, already casting the healing spell. Kalussa did the same as she stepped towards Tamlin, and Ridmark saw that the younger man had been wounded on the left arm and leg.

  Third crossed to join him, swords still in hand, and Ridmark got his breath back and forced himself to stand.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” said Ridmark as Selene joined Third.

  “Said the thirty-eight-year-old man to the thousand-year-old woman,” said Third. Selene cackled at that.

  Despite his weariness, Ridmark smiled. “You never used to make jokes.”

  Third shrugged. “I am older and wiser now. Also, I am glad we are all still alive. It seemed unlikely.”

  “It did,” said Ridmark. Calliande winced, blinked several times, and stepped back. Her magic had healed Krastikon’s wounds, leaving only faint scars.

  “Thank you, my lady,” said Krastikon, grimacing as he flexed his arm.

  “We should get away from the…from whatever it is those creatures left behind,” said Tamara, gesturing at the pools of black slime scattered around the ground. “The smell is overpowering, and I fear it might make us sick.”

  “Yes,” said Calliande. They headed to the west around the base of the keep. “But it won’t last much longer. Already the pools are shrinking away. See?” Ridmark saw that she was right, that the pools of black slime were evaporating. “Another few moments and they’ll be gone entirely.”

  “I’m more concerned about any remaining creatures or the Immortal One,” said Ridmark. “Have you been able to find them?”

  Calliande shook her head. “There are no more creatures in the monastery. As far as I can tell, there are no magical auras of any kind, save for the ones we carry with us. And the Maledictus of Life fled during the battle. He became a wraith and went to the west.”

  Tamlin frowned. “I wondered why he didn’t just travel away.” He looked at Selene. “They can transport themselves instantly through magic. Why bother becoming immaterial and traveling that way?”

  “The power requirements for traveling through magic are immense, Sir Tamlin,” said Selene. “Short hops are easy enough, but for longer distances, the amount of magical power required for each additional mile goes up exponentially. I think Khurazalin actually worked out the equation for it. It was the sort of thing the pompous blowhard enjoyed. Me, though, I never got to learn the travel spell. I had to fly everywhere, which was vexatious. Especially in the rain. I…”

  “Why the wraith, though?” said Tamlin, distracting Selene before her tangent could get up to speed.

  “What? Oh, yes,” said Selene. “That should be obvious. To get here, we’ve had to walk up and down hills over and over again. A wraith, being immaterial, can walk directly through the hills. The Maledicti move swiftly while in wraith form, and it is their preferred method of travel over long distances.”

  “He’s gone, then,” said Calliande. “The Sight can always find that kind of magic, and the Immortal One is long gone. Likely he thought his creatures could dispatch us and fled to let them fight us without risk to himself.”

  Ridmark shook his head. “It was too easy.”

  “Easy?” said Kalussa, incredulous. “How was that possibly easy?” Ridmark gave her a surprised look. Kalussa usually tried to avoid talking to him save when necessary. Perhaps Calem’s wound had rattled her composure. “God and all the saints! I will have nightmares about those things! That wasn’t easy. If you and Calliande hadn’t been with us, they would have killed us all.”

  “That’s the point,” said Ridmark, and Kalussa looked away. “Those creatures were deadly dangerous, and they would have overcome nearly anyone. But the Immortal One had to know that a Swordbearer and the Keeper could win against them. So why throw them against us?”

  “Perhaps Selene’s absence threw the plans of the enemy into disarray,” said Magatai, “and they had to improvise.” He soothed Northwind as they walked, leading her by the reins. The struthian did not like the smell of the pools of black slime.

  “Mmm. That is flattering but unlikely,” said Selene. “I proved ineffective against both a soulblade and the kind of magic the Keeper wields, whatever it is…”

  “The magic of the Well of Tarlion,” said Calliande.

  “Yes, that,” said Selene. “My presence on the side of the Maledicti would have made little difference on the outcome of this fight. I was more useful to them as a scout rather than a combatant.”

  “This could be just the first stage of the trap,” said Third. “More dangers may await us here.”

  “That is sensible thinking, cousin,” said Selene. “Most likely those ugly squishy things were merely the first wave, and the Immortal One and the other Maledicti have more surprises for us.”

  “A pleasant thought,” said Kalussa.

  “Well,” said Ridmark, rolling his aching shoulders. He wanted to lie down and sleep for a week. No, he wanted to take his wife and sons and return to Andomhaim. But the only way home was forward. “If the Maledicti have more tricks for us, then let’s not keep them waiting.”

  He called his staff back to his hand and led the way around the base of the keep.

  Chapter 14: Statue

  Tamlin’s heart thundered as they walked around the keep, the Sword of Earth ready in his fist.

  Part of his fear was the leftover tension from the fight with the Immortal One’s horrors. Some of it was fear for Tamara’s safety. More of it was bracing himself for whatever attack the Maledicti had planned next.

  But most of it, he was embarrassed to admit, was anxiety at the thought of seeing his mother again.

  It had been…God, it had been nearly fourteen years, hadn’t it? Fourteen years since he had last been here, fourteen years since Tamlin had believed that his father had murdered his mother. What would Cathala say once she was restored to flesh once more? How would she deal with the shock of seeing that nearly a decade and a half had passed in the blink of an eye? For that matter, what would she think of Tamlin? She had been pleased that he wanted to become a monk. What would she say when she realized that he had become a married Arcanius Knight?

  He looked at Tamara and rebuked himself for his anxiety. However bad it was for him, it had to be worse for her. At least Tamlin knew who he was. His previous life had been unpleasant, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but he remembered it. Cathala knew who Tamara had been. Tamlin’s mother would know why that unknown woman had split herself into seven shards.

  It occurred to Tamlin that they might learn the secret of the Seven Swords in another hour or so.

  “Together,” murmured Tamara. She had realized his thoughts, as she often did. “We’ll do it together.”

  “Yes,” said Tamlin.

  They rounded the corner and came to the northern side of the courtyard. The monastery’s walls and buildings were in
worse repair here, damaged by the long-ago battle. There were large craters scattered about the courtyard. Tamlin at first feared that more of those soulless creatures had risen from the earth, but then he remembered. Justin had created those craters with the Sword of Earth, commanding the ground to open and swallow those who had been fighting against him. The doors to the central keep faced the northern wall and its outbuildings, and those doors had been thrown down in twisted, splintered ruin, the timbers weathered and crumbling.

  And there, before the shallow steps leading to the doors of the keep, stood the white statue that had been Cathala.

  The statue looked just as Tamlin remembered, fashioned from the white stone that the Sword of Earth created. Cathala stood with her hands outstretched as if casting a spell, her gown rippling around her. It looked like a statue of astonishing detail, so detailed that if Tamlin got close enough, he would have been able to see every fold of her gown and every faint line of her skin.

  He felt an absurd surge of relief. Tamlin had feared that the Maledicti might solve the potential threat of Cathala’s knowledge by carrying off the statue. Or that they might smash it to pieces. But Calliande thought that the Sword of Earth’s power to transmute flesh to stone would pin the victim in place and that the resultant statue would be immune to every form of destruction. Perhaps that was why the Maledicti hadn’t destroyed the statue.

  “Here we are at last,” said Ridmark, his voice grim. His face looked pale and drawn beneath its glittering coat of sweat, but his eyes were bright, and there was no trace of fatigue in his movements. Sometimes Tamlin hoped he had half as much stamina as the Shield Knight did when he got to that age. “Perhaps we shall have some answers.”