Sevenfold Sword

by Jonathan Moeller

  The Sword of Fire blazed with magical power to Calliande’s Sight.

  It looked like the sword that Rhodruthain had carried in Tarlion, though this sword had been made of red metal rather than gold. Upon its pommel was the same closed-eye sigil that had been on the pommels of the Sword of Life and the Sword of Air. Like the two Swords that Calliande had encountered earlier, the King’s Sword shone with magical power. King Justin might have been able to use the Sword of Earth to rip down stone walls and open chasms to swallow his foes, but King Hektor could call down firestorms upon his enemies.

  Calliande forced her attention from the Sword. The man next to Hektor had to be his son. He had the Pendragon look – the same dark eyes and prominent nose, though his hair was thick and black and he was only a few years older than Tamlin and Aegeus. He wore the ornate bronze armor of a Companion of the King, and a golden chain of office hung from his neck. His dark eyes flicked over Calliande, and an easy smile came over his face.

  The man next to him scowled. He was in his middle forties, his hair receding, his face thin and tight. His armor was the overlapping bronze plates of an Arcanius, and Calliande’s Sight saw an arcane aura shimmering about him. He was an Arcanius Knight, and a powerful one.

  The woman next to King Hektor was about forty, with long black hair with gray streaks at the temples. She was beautiful in a remote, cool way, and wore a sleeveless gown of blue with jewels glittering at her throat and upon her fingers. The men of Owyllain took one wife and as many concubines as they could support, and Calliande suspected that this woman was Hektor’s queen. Kalussa’s mother? No, likely not – Kalussa looked nothing like the older woman.

  Aegeus, Tamlin, and the hoplite all went to one knee, and Ridmark and Calliande bowed.

  “Lord King,” said the hoplite. “I present the Shield Knight Ridmark Arban and the Keeper Calliande Arban, both of Andomhaim.” There was a note of wonder in his voice as he spoke.

  “Thank you, soldier,” said King Hektor. His voice was deep and strong but hoarse, likely from years of bellowing commands over the din of battle. “Please, return to your duties. Sir Tamlin, Sir Aegeus, rise.” The hoplite bowed and departed as Tamlin and Aegeus got to their feet. “Lord Ridmark, Lady Calliande, welcome. As you have guessed, I am Hektor Pendragon, King of Aenesium. I present my wife, Queen Adrastea.” The dark-haired woman inclined her head. “My eldest son and heir, Rypheus Pendragon, Crown Prince and Constable of Aenesium.” The smiling young man offered a bow. “And Nicion Amphilus, Master of the Order of the Arcanii.”

  Both Kalussa and Tamlin had mentioned that Sir Tyromon Amphilus’s younger brother was the Master of the Order of the Arcanii. Nicion neither bowed nor smiled. If anything, he seemed just short of furious, his blue eyes glinting as he glared at them.

  “You have already met my daughter Lady Kalussa,” said Hektor, “and Sir Tamlin and Sir Aegeus. I hope you will forgive the informality of this meeting place. The great hall becomes intolerably hot in the afternoon, and the shade is pleasant.”

  “After nearly two weeks of traveling through the hill country,” said Ridmark, “I would not object to shade. Though the garden is beautiful, and I regret that I must give you grievous news in such a place.”

  Hektor inclined his head. “And what news is that, Lord Ridmark?”

  Ridmark lifted the sheathed bronze sword that Tyromon Amphilus had given him. “I regret to report that Sir Tyromon gave me this sword before he died from his wounds. He bade me to tell you that Sir Archaelon had turned traitor and intended to hand Castra Chaeldon over to Justin Cyros…but I suspect word of this has already reached your ears.”

  Hektor sighed, took the sheathed sword from Ridmark, and regarded it for a moment. Then he passed the blade to Nicion, who clutched his older brother’s weapon and glared at Ridmark.

  “That is grievous news indeed,” said Hektor. “Tyromon was a brave man, and I could always rely on him. You are right that word of his fate has reached my ears, but you were there when he died, Lord Ridmark, and both you and Lady Calliande were there for the battle at Castra Chaeldon and the strange attack at Myllene. I would hear the tale from your own lips.”

  “Of course,” said Ridmark, and he started to speak.

  ###

  Ridmark started with Rhodruthain’s arrival in the great hall of the Citadel of Tarlion and related everything that had happened since. Occasionally Calliande interjected, mostly to put Ridmark in a better light, or Hektor or Rypheus interrupted to ask a question. At last Ridmark finished, and Hektor paced back and forth a few times, frowning behind his gray beard.

  “A strange tale,” said Hektor. “A strange and troubling tale. Had you told me such a story a year ago, I would have thought you either a liar or a madman. Yet the proof is before our eyes and backed up by the testimony of many reliable eyewitnesses. It seems Andomhaim did not fall to the urdmordar all those centuries ago, and that the Shield Knight and the Keeper wield powers unmatched in all of Owyllain.” He gazed at the sky for a moment. “And it is strange that you should come now. The War of the Seven Swords is approaching its climax after twenty-five years. I fear that within a year’s time, either Owyllain and the Nine Cities shall be reunited into a single realm, or that we shall be the slaves of King Justin or the Confessor. Both are preparing great hosts to invade Owyllain, and the Necromancer of Trojas and the Masked One of Xenorium wait upon the edges of the conflict like jackals ready to spring upon a wounded antelope.” The dark eyes swung back to Ridmark. “And as this storm is about to fall upon us, you stride into the midst of the battle.”

  “Two weeks ago,” said Ridmark, “we knew nothing of this. We assumed that Connmar Pendragon and his fleet had perished long ago, just as you assumed that the urdmordar overran Andomhaim.”

  “And then Rhodruthain brought you here?” said Hektor. “He gave no reason why?”

  “Only one, lord king,” said Calliande. She had taken on the mien of the Keeper, calm and smooth as a glassy lake. “He said the New God was coming. Archaelon claimed the same thing. When we spoke with Lord Kyralion, he said the gray elves feared the coming of something they called the Kratomachar. I believe that the Kratomachar and the New God, whatever they are, are the one and the same.”

  “Prophecies and portents,” said Hektor. “Well, whatever the reason the Guardian brought you to Owyllain, you are here.” He glanced back at the others. “How shall we greet our visitors?”

  “As honored guests, husband,” said Adrastea. Her voice was soft and musical. She was a lovely woman, and Ridmark had to remind himself not to stare at her. It had been long enough since he had lain with Calliande that it was becoming increasingly difficult not to be distracted by women in general. “All the accounts agree. Without the Shield Knight and the Keeper, Archaelon would have surrendered Castra Chaeldon to Justin Cyros or the Confessor, and this Calem creature would have caused great harm in Myllene. For that matter, the Vhalorasti orcs might have killed Sir Arminios and Earl Vimroghast, and we would have not have learned that the Mholorasti orcs are marching to aid us against Justin Cyros. It is my counsel that you reward the Shield Knight and the Keeper and welcome them to Aenesium.”

  “I agree with my stepmother,” said Rypheus. Michael had mentioned that the late Queen Helen was Rypheus’s mother. Hektor must have remarried and taken Adrastea as his queen. “Our strength is evenly matched with that of King Justin, and the Confessor will attack the minute he perceives any weakness. If we had lost Castra Chaeldon, that might have decided the war. Not only should you reward our guests, Father, but I also counsel that you should offer Lord Ridmark lands and make him our ally.”

  Both Sir Arminios and Sir Tramond spoke and agreed with the Crown Prince.

  “Master Nicion?” said Hektor. “What is your counsel?”

  Nicion scowled at the others, and then his glare turned towards Ridmark and Calliande. “It is my counsel that you order them both from the city immediately, and banish them forthwith from the realm of Owyllain.” />
  Hektor blinked, and Rypheus started to speak, but Kalussa spoke first.

  “That is ridiculous, Master Nicion!” said Kalussa. “What possible reason would you have to counsel my father to such folly? Without Lord Ridmark and Lady Calliande, every man who marched to Castra Chaeldon would be dead, and the fortress would be in the hands of the foes of Owyllain.”

  “For once, I am in complete agreement with Lady Kalussa,” said Tamlin.

  Nicion leveled a finger at Tamlin. “Both of you are young, so you do not see the danger of treachery. I am old enough to remember when High King Kothlaric put his trust in the Guardian Rhodruthain and the Master Talitha of accursed memory. My lord king, your brother put his trust in them, and they betrayed him.”

  “I remember,” said Hektor. “I was there as well, Master Nicion.”

  “Then you know the danger of putting your trust in sorcerers outside the Order of the Arcanii, my lord king,” said Nicion.

  “With respect, Master Nicion,” said Tamlin, “individual Arcanii have turned to dark magic an appalling number of times. Archaelon was the most recent example. The Masked One of Xenorium and the Necromancer of Trojas were both Arcanii who turned to dark magic and betrayed their oaths and the realm.”

  “If it helps,” said Ridmark, “neither the Keeper nor I are Arcanius Knights. But both of us were sworn to defend the people of Andomhaim from the powers of dark magic. Since you are our sundered cousins and we share common ancestors, that oath applies to you as well.”

  Nicion scowled at him. Tramond sighed and rolled his eyes at the Master of the Arcanii, while Arminios kept the polite smile in place. Ridmark suspected that Nicion Amphilus was not as loved as his older brother had been. Ridmark’s father and Dux Gareth Licinius had told him more than once that a lord needed an honest man who spoke his mind no matter how unpleasant his thoughts, and it seemed that Nicion filled that role for King Hektor.

  “I doubt not that you speak the truth, Lord Ridmark,” said Nicion, “and I mean no offense, nor do I doubt Sir Tamlin or Sir Tramond. But Owyllain is at war. This might be another sinister plot of Rhodruthain or some scheme of the Masked One of Xenorium…”

  “The Masked One!” said Rypheus with exasperation. “The Masked One has spent the last twenty years hiding behind the walls of Xenorium and doing nothing at all. Yet you insist upon seeing his hand in every single setback. If a herd of cattle dies, it’s the Masked One’s fault. If someone sneezes during the mass at the Great Cathedral, it’s the Masked One’s fault.”

  “The Masked One wields the Sword of Shadows,” said Nicion, “the sword of illusions and trickery and deceptions. Do not underestimate him, Lord Constable.”

  “I do not underestimate anyone, Master Nicion,” said Rypheus. He smiled at Ridmark and Calliande. “Least of all our guests from the realm of Andomhaim.”

  Nicion, Rypheus, Arminios, Tramond, Kalussa, Tamlin, Aegeus, and Queen Adrastea all started talking at once. Ridmark glanced at Calliande and was surprised to see a flicker of amusement on her face. It was a serious situation, but then he realized the source of her amusement. King Hektor was doing the exact same thing that Ridmark himself often did, letting everyone have their say and then announcing his decision. Any moment now…

  “Thank you for your counsel, my lords,” said Hektor. The others fell silent. “This is my decision. The Shield Knight and the Keeper extended aid to the hoplites of Owyllain in their hour of need. I recognize that Lord Ridmark and Lady Calliande only slew Archaelon and took Castra Chaeldon to save their children, but what man would not do the same to save his sons from a traitor like Archaelon? Even then, the Shield Knight and the Keeper had no obligation to come to Aenesium and present us with Sir Tyromon’s sword. They certainly had no duty to defend the people of Myllene from the bearer of the Sword of Air, and no duty to come to the defense of Sir Arminios and Earl Vimroghast of the jotunmiri. I recognize your prudent warnings of danger, Master Nicion, but if the Shield Knight and the Keeper plan treachery, it is not apparent from their behavior so far. Therefore, I wish that a chest of gold be awarded to the Shield Knight and the Keeper in gratitude for their labors since they have no source of income in Owyllain. Further, it is my decree that they have the thanks of the King of Aenesium, and that they are my honored guests. Sir Tamlin?”

  “My lord king?” said Tamlin.

  “I understand that you have already offered our guests lodging in your domus,” said Hektor. “It is my wish that you continue.”

  “My lord,” said Tamlin. “I should be glad to do so. I would have bled to death in the hills below Castra Chaeldon if not for Lady Calliande.”

  Hektor nodded. “The crown will defray any expenses you are put to for the comfort of your guests. Lady Kalussa, you are already acquainted with the Shield Knight and the Keeper so I would ask you to act as their guide while they are in Aenesium.”

  Kalussa smiled. “Gladly, Father.”

  Affection went over Hektor’s face. “Good girl.” He turned back to Ridmark. “Lord Ridmark, Lady Calliande, I would like to speak with you later within the next few days. I imagine we have many questions for each other.”

  “You surmise rightly, lord king,” said Calliande.

  Hektor nodded. “First, though, I must attend to the business of government. King Justin is coming, and I have a battle to plan. Lady Kalussa, Sir Tamlin, if you will see our guests back to Sir Tamlin’s domus?”

  “Of course,” said Tamlin.

  Ridmark and Calliande bowed to the King once more, and then they followed Tamlin, Kalussa, and Aegeus from the terrace. Behind them Hektor and his advisors fell into a discussion, both Nicion and Rypheus gesturing.

  The audience, it seemed, was over.

  ***

  Chapter 8: The Gladiator

  “You know,” said Aegeus as they stepped from the Palace’s gate and back into the harsh sunlight, “I think that went rather well.”

  Tamlin nodded. “I told you both that King Hektor is a wise man.”

  “For once, I agree with Sir Tamlin,” said Kalussa. “My father is the only reason that neither Justin Cyros nor the Confessor have overrun Owyllain. If he had not seized the Sword of Fire during the chaos at Cathair Animus, then we would all be slaves of the Confessor or King Justin by now.”

  Calliande said nothing as she walked next to Ridmark, her staff tapping against the flagstones of the Agora of Connmar. Kalussa looked at her father through the eyes of a worshipful daughter, and she suspected that Tamlin loved King Hektor as a surrogate father in place of his true father Justin Cyros, who had murdered his mother and sold Tamlin into slavery to Urd Maelwyn. Sometimes the eyes of love deceived, yet it seemed that Hektor lived up to what his daughter and his sworn men thought of him.

  At least so far. Calliande wasn’t sure what effect wielding an artifact of power like the Sword of Fire might have had on Hektor. Soulblades were powerful magical weapons that hated dark magic, and some of that hatred transferred to the Swordbearers themselves, filling them with a burning rage against dark sorcery. She knew Ridmark felt that rage when facing wielders of dark magic, though it never seemed to dominate his thinking.

  Perhaps Hektor Pendragon was strong enough to resist any influence the Sword of Fire had on him.

  “Master Nicion,” said Calliande. “He seemed hostile.”

  Kalussa gave a derisive snort. “He is suspicious of everything. If he sees his own shadow in the afternoon, he thinks it’s a plot of the Masked One.”

  “Didn’t he know the Masked One in the old days?” said Aegeus.

  “What? Oh, aye,” said Kalussa. She waved a hand at Tamlin. “You like to talk, Sir Tamlin. You can tell the tale.”

  “As ever, your flattery is like honey to my ears,” said Tamlin.

  “Honey to my ears?” said Kalussa. “Why would you pour honey into your ears? Is that supposed to be a metaphor? If that’s a metaphor, it’s terrible.”

  Tamlin deigned not to notice her criticism. “Master Nicion, t
he Necromancer of Trojas, and the Masked One of Xenorium were all Arcanius Knights during High King Kothlaric’s war against the Sovereign. All three of them were personal students of Master Talitha herself. When Talitha and Rhodruthain betrayed Kothlaric, the Arcanii who would become the Necromancer and the Masked One sided with Talitha, while Nicion remained loyal. When the dust settled, Kothlaric was dead, Nicion was badly wounded, and the Necromancer and the Masked One escaped with the Sword of Death and the Sword of Shadows.” He shrugged. “Nicion sees traitors in every shadow and a plot of the Masked One in every misfortune. But he is loyal to King Hektor and utterly incorruptible.”

  “You all call him King Hektor,” said Calliande, another thought occurring to her.

  Aegeus blinked. “Well…he is the King of Aenesium, my lady.”

  “Aye,” said Calliande, “but why is he not the High King?”

  “He has refused to claim the title,” said Tamlin. “He says that his brother Kothlaric is the true High King of Owyllain.”

  Kalussa shrugged. “He is the High King of Owyllain whether or not the other kings call him that. The kings of Echion, Megarium, and Callistum all follow him, and once he has defeated the Necromancer, the Masked One, and King Justin, all of Owyllain will be under his authority.”

  “Owyllain has nine cities and nine kings,” said Ridmark. “How many follow King Hektor?”

  “Three kings follow my father,” said Kalussa. “Two more follow King Justin. Neither Trojas nor Xenorium have a king, for the Necromancer and the Masked One wiped out their royal houses and rule the cities as unlawful and godless tyrants. But once my father has defeated the usurpers and claimed all the Seven Swords, no doubt he will be the High King of Owyllain in title as well as truth.”

  The words spun through Calliande’s head. There were nine cities of Owyllain, and Seven Swords taken from the fall of Urd Maelwyn. Into this war, Rhodruthain brought her two sons. The numbers tumbled through her thoughts like an equation that she could not quite solve, a riddle whose answer lay just outside of reach.