Sevenfold Sword

by Jonathan Moeller

  “I am not sure,” said Tramond, “but that is likely one of the embassies that King Hektor sent out to the orcish Warlords and the tribes of jotunmiri in the Cloak Mountains. Some of the orcish city-states and the jotunmiri have traditionally been friendly with the High King of Owyllain, and they might be willing to march alongside King Hektor against King Justin.” He scowled. “Especially since King Justin has allied himself with the dvargir and has been letting them take slaves from his lands.”

  “The Vhalorasti are strong allies of King Justin,” said Tamlin. “Some of the orcish city-states converted to the faith of the Dominus Christus, but the orcs of Vhalorast follow the ways of the old blood gods, and sacrifice any missionaries who come to them. Their warlocks and shamans are powerful.”

  Ridmark looked at Calliande.

  She shook her head. “As far as I can tell, no one is using dark magic. Though someone is using earth magic.”

  “That is probably Sir Jolcus of the Arcanii,” said Tamlin. “He is strong with earth magic, and he can command trisalians to do his bidding. Useful in a battle.”

  “The orcs are drawing themselves up to attack the hoplites of Owyllain,” said Ridmark. “I don’t think they’ve realized that we are here yet.”

  Aegeus frowned. “Have they not set out scouts?”

  “They have,” said Ridmark. “Lord Kyralion and I dealt with them.”

  “Ha!” said Aegeus. He slapped Kyralion on the back, and the gray elf flinched. “Good man. The only good enemy scout is a dead enemy scout, that’s what I always say.”

  Kyralion offered that stiff bow to Aegeus. “That is sound tactical thinking, sir knight.”

  “Let us apply some more sound tactical thinking,” said Ridmark. “This is what we should do. Sir Tramond, have some men stay behind to guard the carts. Sir Tamlin, Sir Aegeus, draw up the men to attack. Lady Kalussa, stay with the Keeper.”

  “I assume,” said Calliande, “that you need me to cast the earth-folding spell?” Her expression was calm and aloof. Tamlin thought Calliande was almost two different women at times. She was the devoted mother of Gareth and Joachim and the wife who looked at Ridmark with love in her blue eyes. And she was also the Keeper, calm and aloof and controlled, the woman could heal terrible wounds with her magic and direct the fury of her spells against men like Archaelon and Khurazalin. Right now, she was the Keeper, and Tamlin suspected that the Vhalorasti orcs were about to find that out the hard way.

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. “You’ll know the time. We’ll attack the Vhalorasti soldiers from behind. They’ll see us coming, and they’ll have a moment of indecision while they try to decide what to do. That will be the time to strike.”

  “Pardon,” said Tramond with a frown, “but…earth-folding spell? I’ve never heard of such a thing, nor seen the Arcanii use a spell like that.”

  “Ah.” Tamlin grinned. “You’re in for a sight then, Sir Tramond. The legends of the powers of the Keepers of Andomhaim of old were not exaggerated in the slightest.”

  “Let’s go,” said Ridmark. “The sooner we move, the sooner we can come to the aid of your men.”

  Tramond nodded. “I saw you fight against Calem, Lord Ridmark. I look forward to seeing what a Swordbearer of Andomhaim can do against an army.”

  Ridmark frowned. “Perhaps you shall, Sir Tramond.”

  ###

  Oathshield shimmered with pale white fire in Ridmark’s hand as he led the way southwest, sixty men marching behind him. Twenty others had remained to guard the supply wagons and the scutians. Calliande had put both Gareth and Joachim within one of the wagons, telling them to stay put. Ridmark disliked taking his sons so close to a battle, but he didn’t see any other choice.

  The battle had come to them.

  And the sooner he won the fight, the sooner they would all be safe again.

  They followed the road around the base of the hill, and the two groups of soldiers came into sight, the Vhalorasti orcs facing the hoplites of Owyllain and their jotunmiri allies. Some Vhalorasti warriors and hoplites lay slain upon the ground, pierced by javelins or arrows. The two groups of soldiers had exchanged arrows and missiles, but not yet come to grips with each other. Sir Jolcus still held his trisalians back, the beasts’ tails lashing as they glared at the Vhalorasti with piggish yellow eyes.

  The surprise was absolute when Ridmark’s hoplites came around the hill and started advancing.

  Someone roared an order from within the Vhalorasti soldiers, and a shock went through the orcish warriors. A few of the orcs started to turn, preparing to face the new arrivals, while others remained facing their previous enemies. No soldier liked to be caught between two hostile forces, and the orcish warriors were no exception.

  “Charge!” shouted Ridmark at the top of his lungs, raising Oathshield with both hands. “Calliande, now!”

  He started running forward, and behind him, the hoplites charged. More of the Vhalorasti orcs whirled to face them, and the orcish warriors began to form themselves into a shield wall. Ridmark drew nearer to the Vhalorasti orcs.

  Then Calliande cast her spell.

  The ground folded and heaved in front of the charging hoplites, and the rolling shock crashed into the Vhalorasti orcs. Dozens of them were flung from their feet, and in the same instant, the Arcanius Knights attacked. Tamlin cast a forked lightning bolt that struck two of the orcish soldiers and killed them. Kalussa hurled a bolt of fire that exploded and killed another pair of orcs, and the other Arcanii flung blasts of fire or spheres of snarling acid.

  Ridmark surged forward, drawing on Oathshield for speed, and he attacked.

  He slew four orcs before the warriors regained their feet. The orcish soldiers struck back, and Ridmark shifted to the defensive, Oathshield blurring back and forth as he deflected thrusts and swings. One of the orcish warriors raised his shield and charged, and Ridmark hammered down with a two-handed swing. Oathshield tore through the leather shield and sheared off the orc’s arm at the elbow, and the warrior bellowed in rage and pain. Ridmark killed him and turned, and by then Tamlin Thunderbolt charged into the fray, a spell of air magic hurling him through the air like a catapult stone. The young Arcanius struck like the nickname he hated. He took off the head of another orcish warrior, green blood spurting into the air, and then whirled into the fray, lightning snarling around his left hand. Burning arrows blurred past Ridmark as Kyralion loosed his shafts, each arrow striking home. The gray elf was an uncannily accurate archer.

  The hoplites crashed into the orcs, striking with sword and spear. The formation of Vhalorasti warriors wavered, falling back, and then their original quarry counterattacked. The jotunmiri led the way, bellowing in fury. The giants swung their massive clubs with broad, sweeping swings, and one of the clubs landed with enough force to send a Vhalorasti orc tumbling through the air like a child’s toy.

  That decided the battle. The Vhalorasti orcs broke and ran, and with a trumpeting cry, the trisalians stampeded into motion. Atop each creature Ridmark glimpsed a hoplite clutching leather reins, trying to steer the mighty beasts, and the trisalians raced after the fleeing orcish warriors, spearing them with their horns and trampling them beneath their thick feet.

  “Hold!” roared Ridmark at the top of his lungs. The last thing he wanted was his men racing piecemeal after the Vhalorasti orcs and getting picked off one by one. “Hold! Hold here!”

  The hoplites stopped their pursuit of the surviving orcish warriors and came to a stop, reforming their line. The trisalians continued their pursuit, running down the fleeing orcs and crushing them. Ridmark doubted many of the warriors would return to report to their Warlord and King Justin.

  One of the jotunmiri came to a stop a few paces from Ridmark, peering down at him. The giant had a rough-hewn, brutish face, his eyes the harsh yellow of sulfur, his hair lank and black. The jotunmir opened his mouth to speak, and Ridmark expected to hear a grim snarl of a voice.

  “I say, what a most remarkable weapon,” said the giant i
n perfect Latin, his smooth voice like music and thunder. “I have never seen its like, nor have I heard of such a blade in the ancient sagas of our kindred, and I have seen several of the Seven Swords wielded in battle.”

  “Earl Vimroghast?” said Tamlin, stepping to Ridmark’s side. “Is that you?”

  “Young Sir Tamlin!” said the jotunmir, presumably Vimroghast. “And young Sir Aegeus. Your intervention was most timely.”

  “Sir Tamlin?” said another man. A knight wearing the ornate bronze armor of a Companion of the King hurried forward, helmet tucked under his arm. He was about Tramond’s age, but much heavier than the lean old knight. “Sir Tramond?”

  “Sir Arminios!” said Tamlin, and he offered the older man a bow. “It seems you have quite a tale to tell.”

  Arminios blinked, wiped sweat from his forehead, and looked at Ridmark. “And you have quite a story, it seems.”

  ###

  Calliande listened as Ridmark, Tamlin, Tramond, Arminios, and Earl Vimroghast all shared news. (She had never heard the title before, but evidently, an “earl” was a nobleman of high rank among the jotunmiri tribes.) From what Calliande gathered, the jotunmiri lived in their own strongholds in the Cloak Mountains north of the Nine Cities. Some of their tribes had converted to the faith of the Dominus Christus and had allied themselves with King Hektor, while others followed their cruel old gods of blood and war and allied themselves with King Justin.

  “A most remarkable tale, my lords,” said Arminios once Tamlin had finished speaking. “A most remarkable tale indeed. Lord Ridmark, Lady Calliande, you have the thanks of all the loyal men of Owyllain. If Castra Chaeldon had remained in the hands of the traitor Archaelon, King Justin could have marched his army to the River Morwynial and the gates of Aenesium unopposed.”

  “We didn’t ask to come here, Sir Arminios,” said Ridmark, “but if we are in Owyllain, we are pleased to have been of use. What brings you here?”

  “An embassy,” said Arminios. “King Justin has gathered many allies to his side, and so King Hektor must do the same. I was sent to the orcs of the city of Mholorast to ask them to join us against King Justin.” He shrugged. “Fortunately, it was an easy task. The orcs of Vhalorast still follow the old orcish blood gods, but the orcs of Mholorast are baptized, and they hate the Vhalorasti orcs. They will gladly march to our aid against King Justin.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, the Vhalorasti patrols found us and led us on a merry chase through the hill country. Just as well you found us when you did.”

  Tamlin frowned. “Why did you not send the trisalians against them?”

  One of the Arcanius Knights who had accompanied Arminios grunted. “Too many spears.” Sir Jolcus wore the same fine armor as the rest of the Arcanii, but he had wild brown hair and a bushy beard turning gray. He looked like the sort of man who would be more comfortable in the wilderness, and certainly, he seemed comfortable with his trisalians. Calliande’s Sight revealed the spell of earth magic Jolcus used to control his trisalians, and it was a focused version of the spell Morigna had used to command birds. “The trisalians are fierce in battle, but prepared spearmen can stab them through the neck and pierce their brains. The Vhalorasti were ready for the trisalians. But once Lord Ridmark disrupted their formation…” He shrugged. “You saw the rest.”

  “Given the dangers we face,” said Arminios, “perhaps it would be best if we traveled to Aenesium together.”

  “Agreed,” said Ridmark. “We shall be happy to accompany you, Sir Arminios.”

  Calliande nodded, but a flicker of unease went through her. Ridmark did not seek to challenge King Hektor’s authority…but nonetheless, they would arrive at the gates of Aenesium with a small army.

  She hoped that King Hektor was indeed as wise as Tamlin and Kalussa claimed.

  ***

  Chapter 5: Cross Purposes

  The next day, the hills ended at last, and the roads entered a forest unlike any Calliande had ever seen.

  She had traveled in a variety of different forests during her journeys – the pine forests of the Northerland, the silent forests of Vhaluusk and the Wilderland, and the far more ominous silence of the Qazaluuskan Forest, haunted by the omen-ridden bone orcs and their undead servants. Sometimes it seemed like she had spent half of her life traveling through forests of one kind or another.

  Despite that, she had never seen a forest like this.

  The trunks and branches of the trees were a deep shade of brownish-red. Some of the trees were huge, rising taller than the highest towers of Tarlion, their branches and leaves spreading to cover the sky. Tamlin and Kalussa both said that the ancient trees had been here since before Connmar Pendragon had sailed from Tarlion to found the realm of Owyllain and the Nine Cities. Around the base of the huge trees grew smaller ones, their trunks and branches still red. Green moss mantled the mazes of tangled roots upon the ground, and here and there shafts of golden sunlight stabbed through gaps in the canopy, covering the forest floor in mottled patterns of light and shadow.

  The road wound its way through the forest, turning west or east to avoid the huge trees. Calliande wondered why the builders of Owyllain hadn’t simply cut down the enormous trees, and then realized that diverting the road for a few hundred yards was far less work than felling one of the mighty trees. Plus, destroying something so ancient and so strong for the sake of a road seemed almost sacrilegious.

  Despite that, the column made good time. The road was winding, but it was in excellent shape, and the scutians pulled the wagons without difficulty. The trisalians stamped along, their tails waving, and occasionally let out long, low cries that sounded like the moaning blast of a war horn. Gareth and Joachim were fascinated by the mighty beasts. Sometimes Joachim disliked something Gareth liked (or vice-versa) just for the sake of being contrary, but both boys gaped at the great lizards. The made Calliande nervous at first since a trisalian could squash a human flat without even noticing it, but Sir Jolcus and the Arcanii with earth magic kept the lizards under firm control. For his part, Sir Jolcus seemed the kind of man who liked animals better than most humans (Calliande suspected he would have loved horses, had he lived in Andomhaim), but he happily expounded upon the many virtues of the trisalians to the boys.

  The jotunmiri sang as they walked, their deep voices smooth and melodious. Vimroghast told Calliande they sang one of the ancient sagas of their people, detailing their long battles against the Sovereign and his armies. She could not understand their tongue, but the song was pleasant and stirring. No doubt the jotunmiri kindred boasted many capable bards.

  Calliande walked with Tamlin and Kalussa a few yards behind Gareth and Joachim and Sir Jolcus, listening with half an ear as Jolcus explained the proper way to clean the horns of a trisalian. Ridmark was at the head of the column with Sir Arminios and Sir Tramond, asking questions about the history of the War of the Seven Swords and King Hektor’s campaigns against the Confessor and King Justin. Calliande knew she ought to join Ridmark, that she needed to know about these important matters, but for now, it was pleasant to walk in the shade with her friends, watching her boys get excited about the strange animals.

  Her friends? She glanced at Tamlin and Kalussa. She hadn’t known either of them long, but they were her friends. They had gone through battle together, and that forged a bond unlike any other. They were her friends, even if Tamlin had tried to seduce her the first day they had met. To be fair, he hadn’t tried it since.

  And even if Kalussa had inappropriate ideas about Calliande’s husband.

  Though if Kalussa kept that up she would not stay Calliande’s friend.

  “Those trisalians,” said Calliande instead. “How many does King Hektor command?”

  Tamlin thought for a moment. “About fifty, I would say.”

  “It’s closer to sixty,” said Kalussa. She had a compulsive need to correct Tamlin at every turn. It was almost like watching Gareth and Joachim bicker. Calliande would have thought Kalussa’s dislike for Tamlin masked attraction,
but the two of them simply did not get along.

  “Maybe,” said Tamlin.

  “Why not more?” said Calliande. “They are clearly powerful beasts in battle. Imagine a hundred of them charging at once.”

  Tamlin shrugged. “They are difficult to tame and expensive to feed. An Arcanius Knight with earth magic has the best chance of it, and not all Arcanii have the aptitude for the spell.”

  “I wonder if I could teach you,” said Calliande. “You have some affinity for earth magic, do you not?”

  Tamlin grimaced and tapped the left side of his chest, where his armor concealed the mark of his Swordborn heritage. “Thanks to my treacherous father, though I am better with air magic.”

  “I wonder,” said Calliande, “if I could teach you the spell.”

  Tamlin blinked. “You know the spell to control animals?”

  “I’m afraid I know a lot of spells, Tamlin,” said Calliande. She thought of old Ruth, her predecessor in the Keeper’s office all those centuries ago. “I had a very good teacher.”

  “It seems the Order of the Arcanii is complete in you, my lady,” said Tamlin.

  “What do you mean?” said Calliande.

  Tamlin started to answer, but Kalussa spoke first. “I think what he means is that each of the Arcanii has some magic. I have fire magic, Sir Tamlin has air magic and some earth magic, Sir Aegeus has water magic, and Sir Jolcus and Sir Parmenio have earth magic. But you know it all. And you have powers beyond the reach of the Arcanii. Even old Nicion, the Master of the Order of the Arcanii, would not be able to match you, and he was the strongest human wizard any of us knew before Castra Chaeldon.”

  Calliande frowned. “I hope he does not take my presence as an affront to his position. That is not what I intend, nor what Ridmark intends. We just want to go home. I…” A sudden thought occurred to her. “Wait. Nicion Amphilus is the Master of the Order, yes?” Both Tamlin and Kalussa nodded. “Did that mean he knew Talitha?” Calliande had heard little about the previous Master of the Order, the woman who had conspired with Rhodruthain to murder Kothlaric Pendragon and claim the Seven Swords at Cathair Animus.