“Talk to the quartermaster,” said Ridmark. “A knight and Companion of King Hektor named Sir Arminios. He’ll be able to get you a blanket, at least.”
Belatedly he realized that Calem likely had no idea who Sir Arminios was.
“Come, Sir Calem,” said Kalussa. “I will show you the way.”
“Thank you, Lady Kalussa,” said Calem.
The two of them headed into the camp.
“Lady Kalussa seems to have some grievance against you,” said Third.
Ridmark grimaced. “It is complicated.”
“Actually, it is quite simple,” said Kyralion. “The men of Owyllain have a custom of concubinage, and the men of Andomhaim do not. Lady Kalussa wished for Lord Ridmark to take her as his first concubine of Owyllain. Lord Ridmark refused her advances repeatedly and finally rebuked her harshly before Prince Rypheus’s attack at the banquet.”
Ridmark looked at him.
Kyralion blinked a few times. “Was I inaccurate?”
“No,” said Ridmark. He still did not think he had handled the matter well, but could not think of what he should have done differently. At least Kalussa had given up on trying to become his concubine. “As you said, Lord Kyralion, it is quite simple.”
“Let us instead speak of a complicated matter, Kyralion,” said Third. “Why did your Augurs see me in a vision?”
“I do not know,” said Kyralion.
“Lord Ridmark told me of the gray elves,” said Third, “but I have never encountered your kindred before, nor have I ever heard of them.”
Kyralion shrugged. “I already told Lord Ridmark everything I know. Long ago, my kindred departed from the high elves, laying down our immortality in exchange for freedom from the strictures of the Threefold Law of the high elves. We built a mighty civilization in the land now called Owyllain, and raised tall towers and proud cities. But the Sovereign pursued us across the sea and made war against us. One by one he threw down our cities and ground our kingdoms into the dust, and the final remnant of our people retreated into the Illicaeryn Jungle. There we founded the Unity and became strong again, and helped High King Kothlaric to defeat the Sovereign. But the Maledictus Qazaldhar laid a plague curse upon the elves of the Unity, and we are dying. The Augurs received a vision of the Shield Knight and the Keeper, and of you, and I was sent to find the vision.”
Third frowned. “Why did they send you?”
“Because I am not part of the Unity,” said Kyralion.
“What does that mean?” said Third.
“He’s tried explaining,” said Ridmark. “I don’t think either the Latin or the orcish tongue has the adequate terms.”
“Then you are an…outcast?” said Third.
“Of a sort,” said Kyralion. “I am not a criminal or an outlaw. I am part of the Liberated, as we call ourselves. But I am not part of the Unity.”
“Lord Ridmark said you were immune to magic,” said Third.
“Most magic,” said Kyralion. “All but the most powerful and potent magic. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I am highly resistant to most forms of magic.”
Third thought this over, frowning at him.
“Then,” she said at last, “is the Unity a magical spell? A ward, perhaps?”
Ridmark opened his mouth, closed it, and then felt like a fool. If Kyralion was nearly immune to magic and not part of the Unity, it made a great deal of sense that the Unity was a magical spell. Was it a ward? The Traveler had sheathed Nightmane Forest in wards so powerful they had kept the Frostborn at bay even after his death. Had the gray elves done something similar?
“In…part,” said Kyralion. “Parts of it are a magical spell. Components of it are similar to a ward. Yet that does not explain it fully.” He sighed. “I am unable to explain it fully because I have never experienced the Unity myself. However, because I am not part of the Unity, I am immune to the plague curse the Maledictus of Death has leveled upon us, and so traveled in search of aid.”
Third’s frown deepened. “Why do your Augurs think that I will save or destroy your kindred?”
“I do not know, my lady,” said Kyralion. “The Augurs do not tell me many things, for I am not part of the Unity. They told me that the Shield Knight and the Keeper would face danger, but they did not tell me the danger would be in the form of Calem. They told me that I would find a woman in flames who would save or destroy or people, but they did not say that she would be a liberated urdhracos, or that she would be so beautiful…”
Third’s eyes widened a little in surprise, and Kyralion trailed off.
At last he offered one of his stiff, awkward bows.
“Forgive me, my lady,” said Kyralion. “I am not eloquent under the best of circumstances.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” said Third. “Eloquence is often a means of deception. Tarrabus Carhaine was most eloquent.”
“Who?” said Kyralion. He seemed relieved the topic had changed.
“He tried to usurp the throne of the High King of Andomhaim,” said Third. “The Shield Knight defeated him below the walls of Tarlion.”
“You helped,” said Ridmark, bemused. He hadn’t expected Kyralion to react that way to Third. “Quite a lot. Tarrabus probably would have killed me if you hadn’t been there.”
Third shrugged. “His judgment was clouded by his hatred of you. Had you not been there, his thinking would have been clearer, and consequently his decisions would have been more rational.”
“If you will excuse me, Lady Third, Lord Ridmark,” said Kyralion. “I should scout for any enemies.”
He offered another stiff bow, turned, and strode away, his gray cloak swirling around him.
Ridmark and Third stood in companionable silence for a while. He had known her for a long time, and they had survived so many dangerous situations together that he could usually guess her mood despite her impassive expression.
Right now, she seemed baffled.
“You seemed to have confused our gray elven friend,” said Ridmark.
“Why would his Augurs think that I can help or destroy them?” said Third. “I am not a wizard. Despite my dark elven blood, I possess no magical abilities, save for the power of travel. If this ‘Unity’ of his were a nation of urdhracosi, perhaps I could show them the way to freedom.”
“I don’t know,” said Ridmark. “No one in Owyllain knows very much about the gray elves. Owyllain has only been here five centuries, but the gray elves have been in this land for at least fifteen thousand years.”
“Perhaps these Augurs are charlatans,” said Third.
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark.
Yet Kyralion had known where to find him and Calliande. Kyralion had recognized Third even before he had met her.
Whatever the Augurs were, they were not frauds.
A wave of misgiving went through Ridmark. He wanted to find Rhodruthain and force the Guardian to return them to Andomhaim. Already Ridmark had gotten involved in one war.
Would he have to get involved in another to find the way home?
“You are troubled,” said Third.
“Extremely,” said Ridmark.
She smiled.
“What?” said Ridmark.
“You are always troubled,” said Third, “but as before, we shall find the path to victory and take it.”
“I hope you are right,” said Ridmark.
Chapter 6: Lore of the Keepers
Calliande slipped the steel bracelet onto her right wrist, sat cross-legged upon her blanket, and slowed her breathing.
Bit by bit, she slipped into a trance.
The Sight was a complex power, and she did not understand it completely. No Keeper ever had. Calliande could direct it and focus it, but sometimes it came upon her unbidden. It would show her visions of the future, which was often frustrating because the visions usually made no sense. Or it would rise in response to her emotions, or in the presence of powerful magic.
The bracelet had been made to direct the Sight.
C
alliande cleared her mind, bent her will upon the bracelet, and sent the Sight into it. She saw the web of spells that Antenora had woven into the metal, spells both complex and powerful. Calliande probed deeper, observing the threads of magical power.
Then the bracelet’s magic activated.
Calliande’s Sight hurtled northward with terrific speed. Visions blurred through her mind. She saw the redwood forest, the dry hills around Castra Chaeldon, and then plains and forests and mountains that she did not recognize. The Sight hurtled over an ocean, the waters an endless plain of rippling blue.
Then Calliande saw Tarlion once more, the Citadel sitting upon its crag, the spires of the Tower of the Magistri and the Castra of the Swordbearers, the walls encircling the city. Her Sight blurred towards the slender white length of the Tower of the Keeper, and then she saw the Chamber of the Sight atop the Tower. It was a domed chamber, with narrow windows looking over the city of Tarlion and the woods of the Tower’s grounds. The floor was polished green marble, carved with interlocking rings of magical symbols, and there was no furniture in the room.
But Antenora had made one addition to the Chamber in Calliande’s absence.
A bracelet rested upon the floor, identical to the one upon Calliande’s wrist.
The bracelet on the green floor began to chime, the crystals flashing with white light.
A moment later the bronze door to the Chamber swung open, and Antenora, the apprentice of the Keeper of Andomhaim, stepped into the room.
When Calliande had first met Antenora nine years ago in the Vale of Stone Death, she had worn all ragged black, her face the gaunt gray of a corpse, her eyes a venomous yellow. A curse of dark magic had preserved her half-alive, half-dead for fifteen centuries until she found her way to Andomhaim. The curse had been lifted after the defeat of the Frostborn outside of Tarlion, and now Antenora looked like a healthy woman in her late twenties, with large blue eyes and curling black hair that hung down her chest and back. She was wearing a green gown with golden trim, and in her right hand, she carried her black staff, the sigils carved into its length flickering with harsh yellow-orange light.
Antenora looked at the bracelet, smiled, and slid it onto her wrist. Calliande felt a pulse of power through her own bracelet, and the vision of the Chamber of the Sight became sharper.
“Keeper?” said Antenora. “Can you hear me?”
Antenora’s voice seemed incongruous with her youthful appearance. She sounded a great deal like Third, with the same controlled, emotionless voice. Her curse had been lifted, but the fifteen centuries she had spent within its grasp had left its mark upon her.
“I can,” said Calliande.
“God be praised,” said Antenora, her face relaxing in a smile. “We knew you were alive. My Sight confirmed it, and the bracer I had forged to find Oathshield would not work if the Shield Knight was slain. Third seemed confident she could traverse the Deeps and find the path to you, and it appears that her confidence was not misplaced.”
“It wasn’t,” said Calliande. “She found us this morning. Her timing was excellent. She intervened in a battle we might otherwise have lost. Antenora, this bracelet…this is brilliant. I wouldn’t have thought of anything like this. You have a talent for forging magical items.” Some of the Keepers of old had crafted items of tremendous power and potency. Calliande’s skills did not lie in that direction. She had always been better with magical healing.
Still, given how many battles she had seen, perhaps it was just as well that her talents lay with healing.
“I cannot take credit for the idea,” said Antenora. “I found the design in one of the high elven books in the library of the Tower. I adapted it from there.”
That was another strength Antenora had that Calliande did not. Calliande preferred to be on her feet and doing things, not sitting and reading. She could when necessary, but it wasn’t something she did for enjoyment. Antenora did, however, and in the last eight years, she had worked her way through both the library of the Tower of the Magistri and the forbidden books in the Tower of the Keeper. Calliande had read many of those books herself during her training centuries ago, but she suspected Antenora had retained more of it.
“Credit or not, it is brilliant,” said Calliande. “The Magistri have always been able to converse over long distances via magic, but over three and a half thousand miles? I didn’t think it was possible.”
“I was not entirely certain myself until this moment,” said Antenora. “Are you well? Are the Shield Knight and your children well? I shall need to report this conversation to the High King once we have concluded.”
“I am,” said Calliande. “The children are safe.” Even though her heart ached with their absence. “Ridmark is also well, though we are both facing a great deal of danger. Antenora, how long with this connection last?”
“Indefinitely,” said Antenora. “We can reestablish it at will, though I have to be in the Chamber of the Sight for it to work. The bracelet will summon me should you attempt to make contact.”
“Very well,” said Calliande. “This is what happened.”
For the next hour, Calliande told Antenora what had happened since Rhodruthain had summoned them to Owyllain. She left out a few parts – Kalussa’s attempted seduction of Ridmark, or the reunion dress Calliande had worn for Ridmark. A few times Ridmark poked his head through the tent flap to check on her, and she heard him conversing with Third in a low voice.
“So that was the agreement we made with Hektor Pendragon,” concluded Calliande at last. Conversing through the Sight, she realized, was more comfortable than with lips and tongue. That much talking would have made her throat hurt. “We will help him defeat Justin Cyros and the Confessor, and in return, he will help us reach Cathair Animus. From there we hope to force Rhodruthain to send us back.”
“One thing occurs to me, Keeper,” said Antenora. “Rhodruthain came to Tarlion to find you. He knew where you and the Shield Knight would be.”
“Perhaps he possesses the Sight himself,” said Calliande.
“That is likely,” said Antenora. “However, when I spoke with the High King and the other witnesses, they said that Rhodruthain said that a woman told him about you.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Calliande, blinking. “I had forgotten that.”
“Who is this woman?” said Antenora. “Another Guardian? One who knew about Andomhaim and its Keeper?”
“And she would have had to have known about Owyllain and Rhodruthain as well,” said Calliande. “I cannot think of anyone who matches that description.”
“Nor can I,” said Antenora. “Regardless, I think you should remain watchful for a second Guardian. Perhaps Rhodruthain has an apprentice, one who visited Andomhaim before he did.” She shrugged. Odd that Calliande could see the gesture from three and a half thousand miles away. “Or perhaps the second Guardian was in Andomhaim and communicated with Rhodruthain.”
“Aye,” said Calliande. “We’re already on our guard anyway.”
“That is wise,” said Antenora. “I have heard of the Sovereign before.”
“You have?” said Calliande. “Before coming to Owyllain, I never heard of him.”
“He was mentioned in one of the dwarven books in the library of the Tower of the Keeper,” said Antenora. “The dwarves have been in this world far longer than humans, and they do a better job of recording their history than we do.”
“They do,” said Calliande. “What did the dwarven book say about the Sovereign?”
“The book said that the Sovereign was the brother of the Warden of Urd Morlemoch,” said Antenora. “It said that while the Warden was the greatest wizard of the dark elves, the Sovereign was their greatest warrior and commander. He destroyed the dwarven city of Khald Meraxur. Yet whenever the Sovereign conquered an enemy, in time the enemy always rebelled against him, so in mockery, the other dark elves gave him the title of the Sovereign.”
“That matches what we learned of him here,” said Ca
lliande. “Did the book say anything else about the Sovereign?”
Antenora shrugged again. “Only that when the urdmordar came to this world, the Sovereign saw the folly of opposing them. He fled the land that became Andomhaim for another land across the sea, seeking the heart of the storm.”
“The heart of the storm?” said Calliande. “What is that?”
“I do not know,” said Antenora. “There was no other reference to it in the book, and none of the dwarven stonescribes I have spoken with in the last few years knew what it was. I did not pursue it with great interest since we have had many more pressing concerns. However, these Seven Swords. I have seen swords of such design before.”
“You have?” said Calliande. “The men of Owyllain all think they are dark elven in origin, but the magic upon them looks dwarven.”
“The glyph of the stylized closed eye upon the pommel,” said Antenora. “That design of sword was produced by the master smiths and stonescribes of Khald Meraxur before the Sovereign destroyed the city.”
“Did the swords have magical power?” said Calliande.
“I do not believe so,” said Antenora. “That was the standard design of sword produced by Khald Meraxur’s master smiths. They were enspelled, yes, but not with the level of power you described within the Sword of Air and the Sword of Fire.”
“Perhaps the Sovereign found them in Khald Meraxur and took them with him to Urd Maelwyn,” said Calliande.
“That makes as much sense as anything,” said Antenora.
She was right, but it still didn’t make much sense. If the Sovereign had possessed seven weapons of tremendous power, why hadn’t he used them to save himself?
“It is a mystery,” said Calliande. “It reminds me of the mystery around the return of the Frostborn.”
She hoped it wasn’t as deadly dangerous.
“I will speak to the dwarven ambassador,” said Antenora. “He can send a message to the stonescribes of Khald Tormen. Perhaps they have more records of the Sovereign and these Seven Swords.”
“Thank you,” said Calliande. “Anything you can tell us of the Sovereign and the Seven Swords will be helpful.”
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