Sevenfold Sword

by Jonathan Moeller

  “These ruins,” said Calliande. “They must have been a city of the gray elves.”

  Kyralion nodded and pointed at the Low Gate. “That is the script of my kindred upon the stone. It names this city as Cathair Valwyn, and says that this gate leads to the lower citadels.”

  “If there was once a city of the gray elves where Aenesium now stands, what destroyed it?” said Calliande.

  “I do not know,” said Kyralion. “The Lorekeepers could tell you, but I could not. Most likely it was the Sovereign and his armies. His hosts destroyed all of our great cities and drove us into the Illicaeryn Jungles.”

  “Most likely, Lord Kyralion,” said Hektor. “All we know is that the ruins were abandoned when Connmar Pendragon settled here, and Aenesium was built upon the site of the ruined city. In time, our ancestors realized that a vast maze of underground galleries and chambers had been built below the elven city and that those galleries led to the caverns of the Deeps.”

  “I see,” said Ridmark. He had heard tales like this before when miners and builders had accidentally opened the way into the Deeps and been slain by the creatures that emerged. In fact, when this whole mess had begun, he had been Tarlion to witness the oaths of the new Dux of Calvus after the previous Dux had gotten himself killed exploring the dark elven ruins beneath Castra Andrius.

  “Several tribes of kobolds and muridachs had settled in the deep halls below the city,” said King Hektor, “and my ancestors fought battles within the walls of Aenesium itself. Eventually, the kobolds were driven back, and the Low Gate sealed, bound with magical wards fashioned by the Arcanii. That was over two centuries ago, and nothing has come through the Low Gate since.”

  “Until today, it would seem,” said Kalussa.

  “Yes,” murmured Calliande. She took a step forward, eyes distant as she gazed at the Low Gate. Joachim still sat in her left arm, blinking as he took in the strange sights around him. He had been frightened at first, but he seemed to have settled down into bewilderment. Gareth stood next to her, trying to keep a serious expression. “I can see the remnants of the wards upon the Low Gate. Something broke them from the other side.”

  “The other side?” said Rypheus. “How?”

  “With great force,” said Calliande. “Those wards were powerful, but I could have broken them in about an hour or so. But I have advantages other wielders of magic do not. For someone to have broken the wards from the other side…it must have been a wizard of considerable power.”

  “And Aenesium is now open to attack from the Deeps,” said Rypheus.

  “Perhaps,” said Hektor. “Lady Calliande, can you sense any more of the abscondamni nearby?”

  Her eyelids fluttered for a moment. “Some. Scattered ahead, and…below the crypt? Probably further into the subterranean ruins of Cathair Valwyn.”

  “Then whoever broke the wards and sent the abscondamni after us is still below,” said Rypheus. “Father, this is a dangerous threat, especially as King Justin’s army advances from the north. If this is Justin’s doing, he could send a force into the city while our army marches. Or if this is the Confessor’s work, he could raze Aenesium while we struggle against King Justin.”

  “Yes,” said Hektor. “You are correct, my son. We have no choice but to descend into the tunnels and find whoever broke the wards and sent the abscondamni into the city.” He looked at Rypheus. “Get back to the Palace and start summoning soldiers. We still have many hoplites on the southern bank of the River Morwynial, and we can bring them here. We will need to sweep the tunnels, find the wizard who broke the wards, and destroy any remaining abscondamni.”

  “It shall be done,” said Rypheus. He turned towards the stairs to the church.

  “Wait,” said Ridmark.

  Rypheus stopped and looked at him.

  “Lord King,” said Ridmark. “This might be a trap.”

  “Explain,” said Hektor.

  “We easily defeated the abscondamni who attacked us,” said Ridmark. “Too easily, I think. What if it was a lure? The wizard who sent the Accursed must know that you would have no choice but to respond. What if that was his plan all along? To lure you into the ruins and kill you?”

  “My father bears the Sword of Fire,” said Rypheus, and Kalussa nodded her agreement. “He can defeat any trap.”

  “Lord King,” said Tamlin, stepping to Hektor’s side, “anyone who had the power to set a trap for you would know the limitations of the Sword of Fire. The Maledicti had the power to create abscondamni, and the Maledicti would know the abilities of one of the Seven Swords. As you said yourself, lord King, you are not immortal.”

  “And your death would be disastrous, would it not?” said Ridmark.

  “Prince Rypheus would carry on in my stead,” said Hektor.

  “But there is always chaos after an old king dies and a new king takes the throne,” said Ridmark. “And with an enemy nearly at your gates, that chaos could be the downfall of Aenesium and Owyllain.”

  Rypheus looked at Ridmark, and then back to his father.

  “Lord Ridmark…may have a point,” said Rypheus. “If it is God’s will that the throne should pass to me, then I will accept the burden. But Lord Ridmark is correct. If anyone challenged my authority as the new King of Aenesium with Justin Cyros at our gates, we could well lose all.”

  “What do you suggest, then?” said Hektor. “I am King of Aenesium. I cannot leave my people undefended from this threat, and I cannot ask any man to fight a foe I will not myself face.”

  Ridmark’s opinion of the King of Aenesium rose.

  “I suggest,” said Ridmark, “that I investigate the tunnels below the city.” Calliande frowned at him. “I have a soulblade, and no creature of dark magic can stand against it. If there is a Maledictus below, I will find and kill him, or at least force him to retreat.”

  “You shouldn’t go alone,” said Calliande. “I ought to accompany you.”

  Ridmark nodded. He would have preferred that she remind behind here in safety. Yet if the abscondamni could get into Aenesium, then nowhere was safe within the city’s walls. For that matter, she had as much experience fighting creatures of dark magic as he did, and he had yet to see a wizard in Owyllain that could stand against her power.

  And without her help, Khurazalin and Archaelon would have killed him in Castra Chaeldon.

  “Very well,” said Ridmark.

  “You should not go alone,” said Tamlin. “King Hektor, I wish to accompany the Shield Knight and the Keeper into the ruins of Cathair Valwyn. If they fight in defense of Owyllain, a knight of Owyllain should accompany them.”

  “You speak wisely, Sir Tamlin,” said Hektor.

  “And I’m not a man to miss a fight,” said Aegeus, clapping Tamlin on the shoulder.

  “Very good, Sir Aegeus,” said Hektor.

  Kyralion moved to Ridmark’s side. “I shall accompany you as well, for the Augurs commanded me to aid you and watch for the omen of the flames.”

  Ridmark nodded. “We shall be glad of your help.”

  “Kalussa,” said Calliande. “Can you take the children back to Sir Tamlin’s domus? If more abscondamni emerge from the Low Gate, they ought to be far from the fighting there.”

  Kalussa hesitated for an instant. Ridmark could tell she wanted to accompany them into Cathair Valwyn, but if she wished to become Ridmark’s concubine and Calliande’s apprentice, then she could hardly refuse orders from Calliande.

  “Of course, Lady Calliande,” said Kalussa, and she stepped forward and took Joachim from Calliande.

  “But I want to go with you!” said Joachim, looking at Calliande.

  “You’re going to be a knight one day, Joachim,” said Ridmark, and his younger son’s blue gaze turned towards him. “And knights need to obey their lords in battle. I have a task for both of you.” He looked at Gareth. “Can you accompany Lady Kalussa and look after her?”

  “Of course, Father,” said Gareth.

  Kalussa smiled at him. “That i
s very kind of you, my young lord.” Whatever else she was, Kalussa was good with children. “This way.” She looked at Ridmark. “We’ll be waiting for your father at Sir Tamlin’s domus.”

  She took the children and headed for the stairs, vanishing into the church.

  “It is hard, is it not,” said Hektor in a quiet voice, “to send your children into harm’s way?”

  Ridmark looked King Hektor. The King had said that he had thirty-seven children. Ridmark could not wrap his mind around that concept. Yet he knew well the gnawing fear he had felt when Gareth and Joachim had been imprisoned in Castra Chaeldon. He remembered the searing grief at Joanna’s death. And King Hektor was an old man. He had likely ordered his Swordborn children into battle. He had likely sent some of them to their deaths.

  Suddenly Ridmark knew exactly where Hektor’s gray hairs had come from.

  “It is,” said Ridmark.

  Rypheus cleared his throat. “Hopefully we can keep anyone from dying today, save for the foes of Owyllain. Father, with your permission I will send for more hoplites and Arcanius Knights to hold the Low Gate until the Shield Knight and his companions return. And though I hope God grants them success, if need be we can storm the tunnels and find the wizard and any remaining abscondamni.”

  “This counsel seems wise to me,” said King Hektor. “Rypheus, summon more men. Lord Ridmark, Lady Calliande, and Lord Kyralion. You have my thanks for your efforts in our defense, even though you are not men of Owyllain. Sir Tamlin, Sir Aegeus, I know you will conduct yourselves as worthy Arcanius Knights.”

  Ridmark nodded and looked through the open doors of golden metal, at the gloomy white gallery that stretched away into the darkness.

  A flicker of misgiving went through him. If both he and Calliande died in the ruins of Cathair Valwyn, they would leave their sons orphaned in a strange land. Ridmark had done any number of reckless deeds as a younger man, challenging mighty foes and traveling in dangerous lands. In truth, he had not cared whether he lived or died, and after his first wife’s murder, he had courted death.

  Now, though…while the prospect of death did not faze him, the consequences of it did. What would happen to Calliande if he died? She had just barely started to recover from Joanna’s death. What would the blow of his death do to her? For that matter, what would it do to his sons? He could not leave his children without a father in a strange land, especially in a land as dangerous as Owyllain.

  Well. That just made matters simpler, didn’t it?

  Ridmark had to slay the remaining abscondamni, defeat whoever had brought them here and broken the wards, and return alive.

  “The sooner we go,” said Ridmark, “the sooner we can return. Ready?” Calliande and the others nodded.

  Ridmark took a deep breath and led the way to the Low Gate.

  ###

  Silence reigned in the ancient halls of Cathair Valwyn.

  Calliande held her magic ready to strike, the Sight swirling around her as she watched for any sign of danger. Ridmark walked in front, Oathshield in hand, the soulblade flickering with pale white fire. Tamlin walked at his right, dark elven longsword held ready, and Aegeus at his left, bronze blade in hand. Kyralion and Calliande brought up the back, the gray elf’s bow ready in his hand. Calliande would have been concerned at having an archer behind the swordsmen, but the uncanny skill Kyralion had displayed against the Mholorasti orcs gave her confidence in his aim.

  So far, they had seen no enemies…but the signs of ancient violence were everywhere. Here and there Calliande saw bones lying against the walls, the bones of orcs and kobolds and muridachs. Bits of damaged armor and weapons, the bronze long since turned green, lay on the floor. It seemed clear that many different creatures had fought in the subterranean ruins of the gray elven city.

  The corridors themselves unsettled Calliande and reminded her of similar places she had visited in years past. The white stone of the floors and walls and ceilings was identical to that used in dark elven ruins. Unlike the dark elven ruins, the angles were not disturbing and strange, lacking the alien aspect that the dark elves found so appealing. In its height, Cathair Valwyn must have been a place of remarkable beauty.

  There was something else strange about Cathair Valwyn.

  Namely, it looked so worn.

  The walls were cracked in places, and the passage of feet over thousands of years had worn grooves into the stone of the floor. In places the stone was pitted, almost crumbling like a dried-out branch. Calliande had never seen signs of age like that in the dark elven ruins, no matter how damaged they had been.

  She remembered what Kyralion had told them, how some of the high elves had renounced their immortality to become the gray elves. It seemed the mortality of the gray elves had also extended to their buildings.

  “God and the saints,” muttered Tamlin, his tense voice cutting into Calliande’s musings. Just as well. If her attention wandered too far, she would become distracted, and that was dangerous.

  “What is it?” said Ridmark, looking around the corridor. It was eighteen feet high and twelve wide, built of pale white stone. The ceiling was arched, and every so often a crystal had been mounted in the apex of the arches, throwing ghostly light over everything. Some of the crystals had cracked and went dark, and others only gave off a sputtering light. Like everything else in Cathair Valwyn, they seemed to be falling into ruin.

  “I just had no idea there was so much…empty space down here,” said Tamlin. “The thought of all that rock above my head, the entire city of Aenesium…I confess it is not a pleasant feeling.”

  “You get used to it,” said Ridmark.

  Tamlin frowned. “You’ve done this sort of thing before, then? Wandered the caverns of the Deeps? Delved into some ancient ruin that is older than Owyllain itself?”

  Ridmark glanced at Calliande, and both of them laughed.

  Aegeus grunted. “Guess that’s a yes, then.”

  “More often than I want to remember,” said Ridmark.

  “Thainkul Agon,” said Calliande. “Near the Black Mountain. That was the first time both of us explored a subterranean ruin together.”

  Ridmark nodded. “Then Urd Dagaash with the spiderlings.”

  “And Urd Arowyn with the urdmordar,” said Calliande. “Thainkul Dural after that.”

  “The catacombs under Coldinium,” said Ridmark, his eyes watching the corridor for foes or traps. “And then Urd Morlemoch.”

  Calliande shuddered. That was a bad memory. “Khald Azalar and Dragonfall.”

  Ridmark stepped over a broken bronze cuirass that had turned green with age. “And the Labyrinth near Shakaboth.”

  That was a worse memory. Calliande remembered Ridmark covered in blood, his flesh torn by the claws of the manetaur warrior. It was something she would never forget. She had come so close to losing him, and it was grievous to think of all the things that never would have happened if he had died before they were married.

  “God and all the saints,” said Aegeus. “How did you two survive all that?”

  Calliande shrugged. “Good fortune, my husband’s sword arm, and the grace of God.”

  “And your magic, don’t forget,” said Ridmark. He paused, holding up a hand for a halt. “I think the corridor opens into a larger hall. Keep quiet. I don’t know how far sound will carry down here.”

  Calliande nodded, and the others followed suit. They advanced in silence, and she called on the Sight, sending it before them in search of dark magic. She did see dark magic further in the complex, but she didn’t think there was any dark magic in the hall at the end of the corridor. Calliande sensed magic ahead, but she didn’t think it was malign or dangerous. If anything, it looked like a spell of preservation and warding.

  The corridor ended, and they stepped into a large hall of white stone, the only light coming from crystals mounted on the ceiling and on the pillars running along the walls. It looked like it had been a throne room or an audience hall, with a dais supporting a stone throne
at the far end of the long chamber. Behind the throne, rising against the wall, was an intricate relief, and…

  Calliande blinked in surprise.

  It was a relief showing scenes of elven history.

  “Kyralion,” she said. “Can you read those symbols?”

  “I can, Lady Calliande,” said Kyralion.

  “I want to take a closer look at that,” said Calliande, looking at Ridmark. “It might help us understand why Rhodruthain did what he did.”

  Ridmark nodded. “Aegeus. Keep an eye on that door.” He pointed at the far wall, where two more archways opened into corridors that led in different directions. “If any enemies come for us, they’ll come from that direction.”

  Aegeus grinned. “And if they do, I’ll put a spike of ice through their throats and then give them a thumping.”

  “Good man,” said Ridmark, and he and Tamlin followed Calliande and Kyralion as they climbed the shallow stairs to the dais, walked past the throne, and gazed at the relief.

  She marveled at its complexity. Unlike much of the stonework in the outer corridor, the relief had not lost its sharpness, and it looked as if it had been carved yesterday. Calliande could not read the script of the gray elves, but the images told a story. She saw the high elves fighting the urdmordar and losing. A group of the high elves gathered and departed, sailing across the sea and arriving at a new land. In the final panels of the relief, the gray elves built mighty cities and towers in their new kingdom.

  An eerie sense of familiarity settled over her.

  “Ridmark,” said Calliande, pointing her staff at one of the relief panels. “Is that…”

  “Aye,” he said, “I think it is.”

  “Who?” said Tamlin.