Sevenfold Sword: Sovereign Page 3

  Ridmark took the opportunity to charge. Oathshield rested in his right hand, and he drew on his link with the soulblade for speed and strength. In his right hand was a long staff that Tamlin had dubbed Aegisikon. The gray elves had given him the staff after the battle of Cathair Caedyn, and while not as powerful as Oathshield, the staff nonetheless possessed potent magic.

  He struck the confused jastaani, hitting one across the face with Aegisikon, and then slashing Oathshield across the creature’s throat with a swift cut. The jastaani tried to encircle him, and Ridmark stepped back, sending a mental command to his staff. Aegisikon shivered and shrank to its shield form, fitting more perfectly against his left arm than any shield he had ever carried. The staff completed its transformation in time to block the descending sword of a jastaani warrior, and Ridmark lashed out with his shield arm. Aegisikon hammered across the jastaani’s face with enough force to knock out one of its fangs, and Ridmark killed the creature with a quick thrust from Oathshield.

  Step by step, he hammered his way into the jastaani, driving them back and killing with every blow. Third flickered through the enemy, her swords flashing with fire and lightning, and Calem and Tamlin cut down jastaani after jastaani. Ridmark did not think there were more than a few dozen of the creatures, all told. He suspected they had stumbled into one of the advance patrols of the Masked One’s horde, one sent to see if the way to Cathair Animus was clear or not.

  Which meant the Masked One and the Maledicti would be in for a nasty surprise once they arrived at Cathair Animus, assuming they did not run into the Confessor’s army first.

  And assuming, of course, that none of the jastaani scouts survived to warn the Masked One of his danger.

  “Don’t let any of them escape!” roared Ridmark. He parried the thrust of a spear on Aegisikon, and his answering blow slew the jastaani.

  White light flashed before his eyes, seeming to settle around him, and suddenly Ridmark felt faster and stronger. Calliande had cast one of her augmentation spells over him, and he saw a similar glow around Third, Calem, and Tamlin.

  He risked a look towards the gate just in time to see Calliande come through, Tamara following her.

  ###

  Tamara strode through the gate and shot a quick look around, and the surge of old memory went through her head.

  She had never been to this valley before, not in her current life.

  But Talitha, the first of her lives, remembered this place, and those memories now belonged to Tamara. This place was called the Valley of the Crowns, and the huge white statues in the foothills were the tomb of the ancient gray elven kings of old. Cathair Animus had been the first city the gray elves had built in their new homeland, and it had been intended to be the capital of a vast realm that stretched from coast to coast. The gray elves had buried their kings here, close to their first city, even after Rhodruthain had denied them the use of the Well of Storms.

  Tamara remembered marching here with High King Kothlaric and his army, filled with joy and relief. The Sovereign had been slain and his empire broken, and all that remained was to destroy the Seven Swords in the Great Forge in Cathair Animus.

  None of them had realized they were marching into a trap. Not until it had been too late. The War of the Seven Swords had begun, and the Sword of Life had split Talitha into seven different shards.

  It didn’t seem like they had walked into a trap this time.

  It did, however, appear that they had walked into a patrol.

  A fight was underway. Tamlin, Calem, Ridmark, and Third battled against a group of jastaani warriors in bronze armor. Tamara’s heart leaped into her throat when she saw a jastaani warrior try to drive a spear between her husband’s shoulders, but Tamlin was too quick for that. He danced to the side, crimson cloak flaring around him, and flicked the Sword of Earth at the jastaani warrior. It was a light blow, but with the Seven Swords that didn’t matter. The Sword took off the jastaani’s head, and Tamlin whirled to face another.

  “Don’t let any of them escape!” Ridmark’s hoarse shout boomed over the fight. Already Calliande was casting spells, the white fire of the Well of Tarlion blazing up the length of her staff. Likely her spell would make the others stronger and faster.

  Tamara couldn’t do that.

  She could, however, help ensure that none of the jastaani escaped to warn their master.

  Tamara stepped forward and struck the end of her golden staff against the ground, calling on her magic. Poor Lord Amruthyr of Cathair Selenias had given her the staff before he had died, saying that she would need it, and he had been right about that. The staff allowed her to focus and channel her magic, letting her create far more potent effects than she could have done otherwise.

  Right now, Tamara called the magic of elemental air, drawing the power through her and focusing it through her staff. She worked the spell, and lightning ripped down from the sky, landing in a group of a half-dozen jastaani. The thunderclap rang through the Valley of the Crowns, and the blast of lightning killed all six of the warriors. Tamlin faltered for a half-step, saw her, grinned, and leaped back into the fray.

  Others rushed through the gate, and Tamara took several hasty steps to the side to let them pass. Magatai charged into the battle atop Northwind, loosing arrows from his bow. Arcanii and Companion knights of the various kings came next, drawn by the sound of fighting, and swords were drawn, and spells were flung.

  The jastaani scouts were soon overwhelmed and tried to flee. That didn’t go well for them. Tamara called down more lightning blasts, and Third traveled behind them, cutting the warriors down with her swords.

  In short order, the fight was over, and none of the jastaani scouts escaped. Silence settled over the Valley of the Crowns once more.

  But Tamara knew that would not last.

  ###

  The army of Owyllain poured through the gate.

  It made Calliande think of water flowing through a drain. The hoplite soldiers came first, unease on their faces. They had seen many strange and dangerous things during the War of the Seven Swords, but walking through a hole in the air and ending up several hundred miles away would be a new experience. Knights from Hektor’s court shouted orders, directing the soldiers to the mouth of the valley, where they would start digging trenches and raising earthwork walls for a fortified camp.

  Calliande stood with the kings and their knights as they planned for the coming battle. Hektor had claimed a low foothill at the base of one of the monumental statues of the long-dead elven kings, and from here they had a good view of the army pouring through the gate and into the Valley of the Crowns.

  “Why can we simply not enter Cathair Animus and destroy the Swords at once?” demanded old King Kyrian the Pious, the ruler of the city of Callistum.

  “I agree,” said King Aristotle. Kyrian gave him a suspicious look. The ascetic Kyrian detested the more libertine Aristotle, who collected as many concubines as his riches (and, most probably, his stamina) would allow. Had Hektor not kept them in line, likely the two kings would have gone to war with one another.

  “It makes sense,” growled Warlord Obhalzak of Mholorast. “The Sovereign sought to trick us and become the New God. Let us destroy the Swords and then him.”

  “I fear we cannot,” said Rhodruthain. “Not quite yet.”

  “Why not?” said Aristotle.

  “You locked yourself out,” said Calliande.

  Rhodruthain sighed. “Essentially correct.” He turned to the west and waved his staff in the direction of the lake of molten stone and the dome of shimmering white light that surrounded the ruined city. Calliande had to admit the starkness of the white ruins and the fiery stone against the gray mountains made for a strange but beautiful sight. “Before I departed for Urd Maelwyn, I armed the most powerful defensive wards around Cathair Animus. They are ancient spells, built in the days of the strength of the gray elves, and further charged with the mantle of power I received as the Guardian. The wards cannot be opened from the outside, not even by me.”

  Kyrian gave Rhodruthain a suspicious frown. “Then does that not solve the problem? If we cannot enter Cathair Animus, then neither can the Masked One.”

  “For now,” said Calliande. “Unfortunately, the wards are decaying. They can only remain armed for so long. It is only a matter of time until they collapse.”

  “How long?” said Hektor, watching the troops stream through the gate.

  “Perhaps a week,” said Calliande. “Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. We won’t know until they collapse.”

  “A week,” said Hektor. He let out a long breath. “Then, we must hold for a week.”

  “We shall have to face the Confessor and the Masked One, King Hektor,” said Zenobia. Krastikon stood next to his wife, the Sword of Death at his belt. “Between our friends and allies, we have five of the Seven Swords, but the Masked One has the Sword of Shadows, and the Confessor has the Sword of Water.”

  “That will be a difficult challenge,” said King Brasidas. “We have the numbers to match the Confessor’s warriors, though that does not include the undead he can summon to his side. But if the accounts of the Masked One’s strength are correct…”

  “They are,” said Selene. She waited near Calliande, watching the council of kings with something like amusement. Given that she was a quarter of a millennium old, perhaps she had seen such councils many times before. “The Maledicti talked about it a great deal. They convinced the jastaani that the Maledictus of Life was one of their gods, and the ‘Janaab Kal’ got all the jastaani cities to follow him. Their entire armed strength is on the way here.” She shrugged. “The plan of the Maledicti and the Masked One was for the muridachs to destroy the gray elves and invade Owyllain from the south, and Taerdyn and his plague c
urse to overrun Owyllain from the north. The Maledicti would collect the Seven Swords and meet the Masked One at Cathair Animus, and the Masked One would bring the jastaani with him to deal with any remaining resistance.” She grinned her mad, slightly feral grin. “Of course, then the Guardian brought the Shield Knight and the Keeper to Owyllain, and everyone’s plans fell apart.”

  “Have they, though?” said old King Kyrian. “The Maledicti may not have brought all Seven Swords to Cathair Animus for their master, but we have brought five of them here.”

  “It was inevitable, I fear,” said Rhodruthain. “The Swords are artifacts of immense magical power and potency. Throw them into the sea, and the waves would carry them to shore. Cast them into the depths of the earth, and the ground would vomit them back up. The Swords are destined to return to Cathair Animus, one way or another, and if not in our hands, King Kyrian, they would have come here in the hands of others. Possibly those of the Maledicti.”

  “I suggest we turn our attention to more immediate problems,” said King Brasidas. “The problem of supplies, for one. We are a long way from home.”

  “The gate will remain open indefinitely,” said Rhodruthain. Calliande’s Sight saw the power flowing from the Sword of Life in its scabbard, power that maintained the gate to the Vale of Urd Maelwyn. “You already had your supply train traveling from Aenesium to Urd Maelwyn. The scutian drivers will simply have to bring their carts through the gate. So long as no one attacks your supply line back to Aenesium, you can remain provisioned for battle.”

  “We may have sufficient supplies,” said Brasidas, “but I fear we do not have the necessary numbers to hold here until the wards go down. We match the Confessor, but the jastaani have ten times our number. If not more.” He shook his head, weariness flashing over his expression. “If we had sufficient time…perhaps we could fortify the mouth of the valley to hold off the jastaani. But against such numbers? I do not know. We don’t even know how far away the jastaani are.”

  “I have sent Sir Parmenio and his scouts out to seek for the foe,” said Hektor. There was a low rumble from the gate. Calliande glanced down and saw a trisalian lizard lumber through the gate, Sir Jolcus riding on its neck just above the bony shield on the back of its head. The trisalian was a mighty beast, thirty feet long from its beak to the tip of its tail, and its arched back rose twelve feet high. Two enormous horns like a knight’s lances rose from the bony ridge over its beady eyes. Calliande remembered riding on the back of a trisalian as the beasts smashed into the lines of Justin Cyros’s hoplites, utterly breaking his army. “But I fear they are not far away. The jastaani that attacked Lord Ridmark when he passed through the gates were likely an advanced scouting party. It is safe to assume that the Masked One’s army is no more than a few days away, a week at the most.”

  “Which means,” said Aristotle, “they will arrive before the wards around Cathair Animus go down.”

  “Aye,” said Hektor.

  Obhalzak let out a rumbling growl. “I am not one to shy from a fight. But we shall be outnumbered ten to one. Even more, if the Confessor and the Masked One set aside their enmity long enough to destroy us. What hope have we of victory?”

  “This, Warlord,” said Calliande. “We think the Sword of Life has the power to sustain more than one gate at a time.”

  The kings and knights looked at her.

  “Are you saying you can summon reinforcements?” said Aristotle. “That would be welcome, indeed.”

  “We think so,” said Calliande. “I am not certain, but I think the Sword can empower another three gates, and possibly as many as five.” She looked around at the kings and their advisors. “Many of you were with Kothlaric Pendragon when he marched against Urd Maelwyn twenty-five years ago. You know that the men of Owyllain did not go to war alone. The orcs of Mholorast and the baptized jotunmiri accompanied you.” She nodded at Obhalzak and Vimroghast. “But the gray elves, the Takai halflings, and the xiatami all accompanied you to battle. They know the danger of the New God, and perhaps they will fight alongside the men of Owyllain once more.”

  “Would they?” said Aristotle with a hint of bitterness. “They have remained aloof from the War of the Seven Swords so far.”

  “They stayed out of Owyllain’s civil war,” said Calliande. “That is over. The realm has been reunited under King Hektor. Staying out of Owyllain’s civil war was just neighborly.” Brasidas snorted at that. “But the New God threatens all lands and all kindreds.” She offered a grim smile. “And as some of you have seen firsthand, the xiatami and the gray elves owe the Shield Knight a debt. Perhaps it is time to collect.”

  “Any aid you can summon will be welcome,” said Hektor. “And if possible, you should open a gate directly to Aenesium. That would help bring sufficient supplies, and my son Aesacus can send additional forces to our aid.” He looked to the east, his face hard behind his beard. “That will leave Aenesium unguarded, but if we do not win here, we will lose everything.”

  “Aye, lord King,” said Calliande.

  A flicker of premonition went through her. Sometimes the Sight let her see glimpses of future events, but those glimpses were often less than helpful. The future was always in flux and ruled by so many different variables. Yet sometimes she caught the broad shape of what would happen, like seeing a shadow come around a corner in a city.

  And right now, the Sight told her there would be a great deal of violence here in the immediate future.

  Calliande had seen countless battles, but she still shivered.

  The discussion turned to more conventional matters of defense, where to put the camps and how best to fortify the valley. Calliande wasn’t needed for that part, but she listened with half an ear. Her eyes strayed towards the gate, where Ridmark stood talking with Third.

  Some ideas were stirring inside her head, ways to give them an edge in the upcoming battle.

  She wondered if the same ideas had occurred to her husband.

  ###

  Ridmark stood next to the gate, watching the host of Owyllain and its allies pour into the Valley of the Crowns.

  “It is not going to be enough, is it?” said Third. She stood next to him, her face its usual cold mask, her black eyes watching the soldiers.

  Ridmark considered his answer for a moment.

  “No,” he said at last.

  Third waited, letting him work through his thoughts.

  “We might be able to take the Confessor’s army in a straight battle,” said Ridmark. “Battles between equally matched forces are always chancy. Better to attack with an advantage, or to defend from a position of strength. But even if we overcame the Confessor, the Masked One and the jastaani will roll right over us.”

  “Agreed,” said Third. “We shall need more allies.”

  “Aye, quite a few more,” said Ridmark.

  “The xiatami and the Takai nomads should be willing to help,” said Third. She hesitated, just long enough to be noticeable. “And the gray elves.”

  “They will,” said Ridmark. “But we’re going to need more, much more. We have allies outside of Owyllain…and with these gates, we can go anywhere.”

  Third lifted her eyebrows. “Then it is finally time to go home?”

  “Yes,” said Ridmark. “And then we’ll turn around and come back here right again.

  Third blinked in surprise, and then let out a short laugh. She smiled more since the battle at Cathair Caedyn, though infrequently, and sometimes even laughed.

  “Though the return journey will be easier,” said Third. “I will not have to bully any dvargir this time.”

  “Thirty-five hundred miles in a single step is much simpler than crossing the same distance through the Deeps,” said Ridmark.

  “Yes,” said Third. “And I am about to experience that firsthand.”

  He laughed at that.

  “When will you open the next gate?” said Third.

  “As soon as the kings and lords finish their council,” said Ridmark, glancing up at the hill. “Though I won’t have anything to do with it this time. Rhodruthain already saw my memory. He, Calliande, Kalussa, and Morigna can open the gates without my help.”