“Yes,” said Calliande. “I…”
She trailed off, her eyes going hazy.
“The enemy comes!” said Magatai, raising his sword. “Prepare yourself.”
Enemy? What enemy? Tamlin didn’t doubt the Takai halfling, but the courtyard seemed deserted.
Then he saw the rippling.
It was not as hot this high in the foothills, but the air over a portion of the courtyard rippled as it had lain in the baking sun all day. The ripples were getting closer, and with a chill, Tamlin recognized the familiar telltale ripples that came from camouflaged urvaalgs.
Quite a lot of hidden urvaalgs, come to think of it.
“With me!” said Ridmark, lifting Oathshield. “Keep them away from Calliande and the sorceresses!”
Calliande shouted and struck the end of her staff against the uneven ground, and a ring of white fire leaped from her and rolled across the flagstones. The white fire slammed into the rippling distortions, and the urvaalgs became visible with snarls of rage and fury. As ever, Tamlin’s skin crawled at the sight of the dangerous creatures. They looked like a twisted hybrid of wolf and ape, greasy ropes of lank black fur hanging down their muscled limbs. Their eyes burned like coals, and their claws and fangs were like black serrated daggers. The creatures the Immortal One had raised in the courtyard had been alien and terrifying. Yet the urvaalgs had their own air of deadly menace. They looked like creatures built to war, monsters bred and refined to kill.
The urvaalgs loosed war cries like tearing metallic screams, and Tamlin rushed to join Ridmark as the Shield Knight charged.
###
An urvaalg bounded towards Tamlin and Krastikon, and Tamara thrust her staff and cast a spell. An arc of lightning leaped from the end of the golden staff and struck the creature. She couldn’t cast elemental magic with enough force to kill the urvaalgs, but she could hit the creatures hard enough to stun them, and the urvaalg thrashed and howled as her lightning made its muscles writhe and twitch.
Tamlin wheeled and cut the urvaalg in half with a smooth slash of the Sword of Earth.
A second urvaalg sprang past him, and Ridmark caught it with a stab from Oathshield. The soulblade’s white fire flared hotter, and the urvaalg howled as it died. The Shield Knight wrenched his sword free and stepped back, seeking another foe. Tamara was impressed that Ridmark could still fight with such ferocity after battling the Immortal One’s soulless horrors.
And they were winning the fight against the urvaalgs, and with far greater ease than they had against the abominations. Urvaalgs were a terror in Owyllain, and only teams of Arcanius Knights working in concert could kill the dangerous creatures. But Ridmark cleaved through them like a hot knife through butter, Oathshield’s blade blazing with wrath. The Shield Knight and the Keeper had told Tamara that soulblades had been forged to fight creatures of dark magic, and watching Ridmark, Tamara believed it.
Calliande cast one of her augmentation spells, making the others faster. Calem, Krastikon, and Tamlin cut through the urvaalgs, their Swords slicing through the creatures as if they had been made of mist instead of corrupted flesh. Magatai used his lightning-wreathed sword to stun the urvaalgs, allowing one of the others to finish the creature off. Third and Selene fought alongside each other, and the two former urdhracosi had settled on a simple but effective strategy. Selene used her elemental magic to freeze the urvaalgs’ clawed feet to the ground, and Third then stabbed the trapped creature through the heart.
Another urvaalg rushed towards Tamlin, and Tamara struck it with a lightning bolt. The urvaalg staggered, its claws rasping against the ground, and before it could recover one of Kalussa’s crystalline spheres punched through its skull in a spray of black slime. The urvaalg went limp and fell dead, and silence fell over the courtyard once more.
Tamara shot a quick look around and saw dozens of dead urvaalgs scattered on the ground, black slime dripping from their wounds.
No other foes moved in the courtyard.
“Calliande?” said Ridmark, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Anything?”
“No, no more urvaalgs,” said Calliande. “Nothing. As far as I can tell, we’re alone.”
Ridmark grimaced. “That was too easy.”
“As strange as it is to consider any fight with urvaalgs easy,” said Krastikon, “I fear that you are right. The Maledicti must know how effective a soulblade and the Keeper’s magic are against creatures of dark magic. Why waste urvaalgs by throwing them against you?”
“We did kill a large number of urvaalgs,” said Selene. “The effort was not wasted.”
Tamara frowned. “Mhazhama said you were disappointed that we killed your urvaalgs.”
Selene laughed. “Did she? Well, she’s a tiresome old crone. I hated urvaalgs. God, the smell of the things. Any day where I can kill urvaalgs is a good day.”
“Aye,” said Ridmark, looking towards the white statue at the foot of the keep, “but I think something else is going to happen today.”
Tamara looked at her husband. Tamlin’s face was set, his fingers tight against the hilt of the Sword of Earth as he gazed at Cathala.
“It’s time, isn’t it?” said Tamlin.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “Keep your eyes open, all of you. I’m sure the Maledicti have more surprises for us.”
“None shall escape Magatai’s vigilance!” declared the halfling, climbing back into Northwind’s saddle.
“Indeed not,” said Ridmark. “Let’s go.”
He led the way to the foot of the keep and to the statue of Cathala. As they drew closer, Tamara saw that there was something indeed uncanny about it. No human sculptor, no matter how skilled, could possibly have made a sculpture of such exacting detail. A wave of fear followed her uneasiness.
Tamara might be about to learn who she really was.
What if she didn’t like the answer?
“Tamlin,” said Calliande.
“I’m not sure what to do,” said Tamlin.
“Taerdyn said a touch from the Sword of Earth would restore Cathala to flesh and blood once more,” said Calliande. “Let’s find out if he was right.”
Tamlin nodded, took a deep breath, and laid the blade of the Sword of Earth upon the statue’s shoulder as if he was knighting her.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then the Sword of Earth flashed with green light.
The transformation happened with shocking abruptness. One moment a statue of a woman stood before the shattered doors to the keep.
The heartbeat after that, Cathala stood there, sucking in a startled breath.
She was a striking woman, clad in a green gown that fit her well and matched her eyes. Her long hair was the color of flame, and jewels glittered in her ears and on her fingers. Tamara’s first thought was that it was odd Cathala had worn so much jewelry while living as a guest in a monastery. Her second thought was that Cathala seemed to have a vitality to her, a powerful vigor and charisma. Tamara had wondered how Cathala had seduced Justin Cyros, given that Justin could have had nearly any woman he wanted, but it was clear that Cathala was the kind of woman who could have had almost any man she wanted.
She didn’t look that much like Tamlin. He took more after Justin Cyros. But, yes, there were similarities – something in the shape of the face and jaw.
Cathala took a step back, looking around in shocked bewilderment. Tamara supposed that from her perspective she had been surrounded by Justin and his dvargir one moment, the monastery in flames, and then an instant later everything had changed around her.
Tamlin lowered the Sword of Earth, his eyes wide.
“Mother,” he said.
Cathala looked at him, and then her face twisted with a snarl.
“Justin,” she spat. “You will not stop me!”
She cast a spell and hurled a bolt of fire at Tamlin’s face.
Chapter 15: Mother
Calliande saw the flare of magical power around Cathala and realized what was about to happen.<
br />
She reacted at once, casting a warding spell on Tamlin. A shell of white light flared to life around the young knight, and the bolt of fire that would have killed him instead sputtered off the warding spell. Calliande felt the strain of the impact. The magic of the Well turned aside Cathala’s elemental magic, but nonetheless, Cathala was strong, probably one of the stronger wielders of elemental flame that Calliande had encountered in Owyllain.
“Stop!” said Tamlin. “Mother, stop!”
Cathala bared her teeth as she backed towards the doors to the keep. “You will not hold me from my destiny, Justin! I will save Owyllain! I will stop the New God! I will…”
Tamlin yanked off his helmet. “Mother, I’m not Justin. Look. Just look!”
Cathala’s ranting trailed off, and her green eyes began darting back and forth. She glanced at Calliande, at the ruined, half-overgrown state of the monastery courtyard, and some of the rage drained from her face.
Fear and confusion replaced it.
“I…I don’t understand,” said Cathala, taking another step back. She still held her magic ready to strike. “What is happening? Justin? No…no, you’re not Justin. Who are you? What is going on?”
“Tamlin,” said Tamlin. “I’m Tamlin.”
“No, that’s not possible,” said Cathala. “Tamlin’s a boy, a little boy. Not some oafish brute of a warrior. He’s…”
“Mother,” said Tamlin, lifting the Sword of Earth. Cathala flinched but did not attack. “Justin used this to turn you to stone. He thought he was killing you, but the Sword of Earth has the power to turn its victims back to flesh once more.”
“He turned me to stone?” said Cathala. “I…the dvargir surrounded me. I was fighting to escape. Then Justin approached me, and I thought I would turn that treacherous bastard to cinders. There was a green flash and then…and then…”
She shook her head, the flame-colored hair stirring around her slender neck.
“It was just a second ago,” murmured Cathala. “Just a second ago. And yet…I feel as if I have been sleeping for a very long time.” Her green eyes went wide. “And if you are really my son…dear God. How long have I been turned to stone?”
“Over fourteen years,” said Tamlin.
Cathala flinched as if she had been slapped. “Fourteen years? Fourteen years?”
“Yes,” said Tamlin. “It has been a long, long time. A long path to come here to find you again.”
Her mouth twisted. “You’re not one of Justin’s men, are you? You haven’t sworn loyalty to that murdering swine?”
“No,” said Tamlin. “I helped kill him, and I took the Sword of Earth.”
“Just as well,” said Cathala. “I had higher hopes for you, that you would become a man of peace and learning instead of just another…just another swaggering brute in armor.”
Tamlin flinched as if she had slapped him, and Calliande felt herself start to scowl.
“Tysia,” said Cathala. “Where is Tysia? Is she with you? She’s all that matters. Where is Tysia?”
“She died in Urd Maelwyn,” said Tamlin. “One of the Maledicti murdered her.”
“No,” whispered Cathala. “No, it can’t be.”
“But we found another of the seven shards,” said Tamlin. “The Maledicti killed six of the seven, but we found the seventh.”
Cathala’s eyes moved to Tamara. Bewilderment went over her face, and then her features lit up with relief.
“Yes!” she said.
She shoved past Tamlin and stood before Tamara, looking at her.
“Yes, I can see the resemblance,” said Cathala. “It’s obvious, now that I know to look for it. You look just like Tysia, save that your left eye is purple instead of pale blue. Do you remember me at all?”
Tamara hesitated. “No. I had a vision of you once. I was lying in a domed chamber, and you and Rhodruthain were there. Then Rhodruthain stabbed me with the Sword of Life, and that was all that I saw.”
Cathala nodded. “The day you died and were reborn seven times. At your age now…you must be almost twenty-five. Your powers are returning and will be manifesting even more strongly soon.” A triumphant look went over her face. “The Maledicti tried to stop us, my lady, but we outwitted them. Yes. We are going to save the world. It’s not yet too late. Not if my son is carrying the Sword of Earth. Who are your companions?”
Tamara opened her mouth, closed it again. She seemed unsettled by the fact that Cathala was ignoring Tamlin entirely. Truth be told, Calliande found that odd herself. If she had been separated from Gareth and Joachim for fourteen years, if her sons had returned as grown men to rescue her, she would have dissolved into incoherent tears.
“Ah…this is Ridmark Arban, the Shield Knight of Andomhaim,” said Tamara. Cathala blinked at the mention of Andomhaim. “His wife Calliande Arban, the Keeper of Andomhaim. Lady Kalussa Pendragon of Aenesium. Prince Krastikon of Trojas and Cytheria. Sir Calem, a knight in Lord Ridmark’s service. Lady Third of Nightmane Forest. Magatai of the Takai Steppes. And Lady Selene of…ah…”
Selene grinned. “I travel around quite a lot.”
The smile did not touch her silver eyes.
“You have gathered strange companions around yourself, my lady,” said Cathala. “But I suppose that was necessary if you were to survive.”
“And Tamlin, you remember,” said Tamara.
“Yes, of course,” said Cathala, not bothering to look at him.
“My husband Tamlin,” said Tamara.
Cathala blinked in confusion, and then fury exploded over her expression.
“What?” she snarled. “You married him?”
“Tysia did,” said Tamara, “and since Tysia and I were the same woman…”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Cathala, glaring at Tamlin. “I had hoped for better from you. Instead, you’ve turned into just another oafish warrior, and like every other oafish warrior, you are unable to control your lusts. Tysia has a far greater and nobler destiny than serving as the bedmate and brood mare of some illiterate knight with pretensions of…”
“That is enough,” said Tamara, her voice quiet but cold.
“What God has joined together,” said Calliande, “let no man break asunder.”
She found herself getting angry. Tamlin had been a good friend to her and Ridmark over the last several months. He had let Calliande and her family stay at his domus in Aenesium, and Calliande’s sons were living there even now. And what was more, Tamlin had stood with her and Ridmark in some very dangerous battles, the desperate fights against Justin Cyros and the Necromancer and the muridachs and others.
“Do not presume to lecture a Sister of the Order of the Arcanii,” said Cathala, drawing herself up. “The Keeper of Andomhaim, is it? Oh, I’m sure. Andomhaim was destroyed centuries ago.”
“It wasn’t,” said Calliande.
“Given that you just spent fourteen years as a statue,” said Ridmark, “it is possible there are more things in the world than you know.”
“I am certain I know more than you, sir,” said Cathala.
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark with indifference.
He looked at Third.
She nodded and disappeared in a flicker of blue fire.
Cathala blinked, starting to look around, and Third reappeared behind her.
“Or perhaps not,” said Third.
Calliande felt a flicker of amusement as Cathala jumped and whirled.
“Lady Cathala,” said Ridmark before Cathala could speak, “we have traveled with your son a very long way to ask you some questions. The War of the Seven Swords has been raging for twenty-five years, and we fear that the Maledicti will find a way to summon the New God soon. I know you’ve had a tremendous shock…”
“I’m fine,” snapped Cathala.
“But we’re almost out of time, and we need your help,” said Ridmark.
Cathala drew herself up again, and some of her hauteur returned.
“Yes, yes, I suppose you do,” said
Cathala. “If you are truly dedicated to stopping the return of the New God. Without my help, you will fail. I am the only one who can stop the New God.”
Calliande found herself doubting that.
Suddenly she thought back to Andomhaim’s civil war against Tarrabus Carhaine and the Enlightened of Incariel nine years ago. Many of the Magistri had sided with the Enlightened, abandoning the Well of Tarlion for the corruptive power offered by the shadow of Incariel. Those traitorous Magistri had been utterly confident in their own superiority, certain that the power of their magic gave them the right to do as they wished.
Cathala reminded her of those Magistri.
Perhaps that was unfair. Calliande had barely known the woman five minutes. Yet her treatment of Tamlin in those five minutes had rubbed Calliande the wrong way. Tamlin’s face had become a blank mask, almost the way Calem’s face looked when he had been under the control of the Masked One’s spells of dark magic.
“I don’t care who stops the New God, so long as it is stopped,” said Ridmark.
“An uncommonly sensible attitude for a knight,” said Cathala. “Very well. What do you want to know?”
“Who am I?” said Tamara at once.
Cathala looked at her.
“I know who I am now,” said Tamara. “Tamara Earthcaller of Kalimnos…”
“Kalimnos? That dusty pigsty?” said Cathala. “God. What an unsuitable place to raise the child who is going to save the world. What was Rhodruthain thinking?”
“I had a happy enough childhood there,” said Tamara, her voice cold again. “I know who I am. But I want to know who I was. Who was I when Rhodruthain stabbed me with the Sword of Life?”
“You were once,” said Cathala, “Talitha of Aenesium, the Master of the Order of the Arcanii. You and I saved the world at Cathair Animus, and we are going to do it again.”
“What?” said Tamara, shock filling her expression. “No. No, that’s not possible, she was a traitor…”
“She was not,” said Selene. “Rather, the Masked One and the Maledictus of Shadows convinced everyone that she was.”
Sevenfold Sword: Sorceress Page 22
