Fifteen yards. Tamlin could use his magic to increase the power of his leaps.
Could he manage fifteen yards?
###
Ridmark killed an Ironcoat and wrenched his sword free, the white fire of Oathshield burning away the young man’s blood.
He had just killed one of Justin’s sons in front of him, but Justin only looked irritated. Again, the King of Cytheria flung one of those spheres of brilliant green light at Ridmark, and he had to step back, blocking the attack with Oathshield. More Ironcoats ran at him, swords raised, and the warlocks began another spell. Urzhalar glided after them, hands extended, and blue fire crackled around his fingers.
Ridmark realized that he was about to die.
He had gambled with his life so many times in the past, but his luck had finally run out. Oathshield’s power thrummed through him, and he braced himself for a final charge, hoping to take down Urzhalar before the Maledictus killed him.
Then a white blur flashed before Ridmark’s eyes, and Calem crashed into the Ironcoats.
He killed two of them in an heartbeat, the Sword of Air slicing their heads from their shoulders with cuts of uncanny sharpness. The Ironcoats’ elemental magic could deflect most blades, but it could do nothing against the Sword of Air. The remaining Ironcoats faltered, and Urzhalar and the warlocks turned their attention to the new threat.
And it gave Ridmark the instant he needed to unlock Oathshield’s power.
He concentrated and called on the power, and both soulstones set in the sword exploded with white light.
###
Justin pointed the Sword of Earth at the Shield Knight, preparing to call forth its power and hopefully overwhelm his opponent.
Then the white-cloaked warrior leaped into the Ironcoats and started butchering them, a silver sword flashing in his fist. Yes, that had to be the one who had killed the High Warlock, the one they called Calem Whitecloak. And he had the Sword of Air with him. Justin had no idea who Calem was, or how he had found the Sword of Air, or why he had allied himself with Hektor Pendragon.
But this was a marvelous opportunity. If he was victorious, Justin could claim both the Sword of Fire and the Sword of Air in the single day. Three of the Seven Swords reunited, and Justin would be that much closer to preventing the rise of the New God.
Then the blue sword in Ridmark Arban’s hands exploded with white fire.
Justin blinked in surprise, wondering if Oathshield’s magic had somehow failed. That would be an amusing end for the Shield Knight of Andomhaim, killed on the battlefield when his sword blew up in his hands. The white fire leaped from Oathshield and wrapped around Ridmark, and Justin expected it to incinerate the Shield Knight.
Instead, it hardened into metal.
The white fire transformed into blue plate armor that covered the Shield Knight from head to toe. Oathshield still burned in his right fist, and Ridmark surged forward with incredible speed, killing two of the warlocks in as many heartbeats. Urzhalar cast another spell at Ridmark, but the blue armor absorbed the dark magic, and the Shield Knight did not slow.
And Justin understood that he had been right earlier.
Today he would either die, or he would win everything.
He charged into the fray, calling on the Sword of Earth’s power.
Chapter 19: Victory or Death
Calliande summoned the magic of the Well and the mantle of the Keeper’s power, casting another ward around herself. Two Dark Arcanii joined their powers together and threw a bolt of blue fire and shadow at her, but it shattered against her ward. Calliande struck back with a blast of white flame, killing one of the winged creatures. It tumbled smoking from the sky, and Calliande focused her will upon the second Dark Arcanius as it banked away.
She expected the creature to turn and attack her once more.
Instead, it flew away to the north.
Calliande blinked in astonishment.
The sudden silence that fell around her was shocking in its contrast against the howl of magical ice and the roar of lightning bolts. She still heard the fury of the battle raging to the north as the hoplites strove against each other, and her Sight detected magical spells raging beyond that.
But the Dark Arcanii were flying away. Nearly three-quarters of the creatures had been killed in the furious battle around Hektor’s banner, and only thirty or forty had remained. But now the survivors were flying to the north, converging on King Justin’s banner. Likely Urzhalar had triggered their transformation at King Justin’s bidding, and Urzhalar must have called them back.
Did that mean that Justin himself was under threat?
Calliande sent the Sight sweeping over the battle, trying to see what was happening, and a bolt of dread went through her.
King Hektor’s army was losing.
The Mholorasti orcs had broken through, but Hektor’s hoplites and Vimroghast’s jotunmiri had been forced back. Calliande saw that Hektor’s lines were about to collapse from the battering the warlocks had given them, that Justin’s soldiers had done a better job of keeping their formation intact. When they broke through, Hektor’s army would collapse. They would have to retreat back to Castra Chaeldon, perhaps all the way back to Aenesium.
“Are…are we winning?” said a woman’s voice.
Calliande turned and saw Kalussa leaning on the Staff of Blades, her eyes bloodshot and her face pale with exhaustion. The crystal at the end of the Staff kept shifting and changing shape, likely because Kalussa was too tired to keep tight control over the magical weapon. Kyralion stood next to her, his face impassive as ever, though he likewise looked exhausted.
“No,” said Calliande. “Follow me. Hurry!”
She ran to join King Hektor, Kalussa and Kyralion hurrying after her. Hektor stood beneath his banner, flames crackling around the Sword of Flames.
“Gather the Arcanii who still have the strength to fight,” said Hektor. “I think the Mholorasti are attacking Justin himself and his warlocks. We must aid the hoplites, or else the battle is lost. Go!”
Nicion began barking orders at the Arcanii who still had power left to fight, and they rushed to the north, preparing spells to use against Justin’s hoplites.
“Keeper,” said Hektor. “Any aid you can offer now would be welcome.”
Calliande took a deep breath. “I am going to find Sir Jolcus and bring his trisalians into the fighting.”
Hektor looked at her. She could see his doubt. He had trusted her enough to go along with her plan to use trisalians as war beasts, but the situation was desperate. Her help was needed against the warlocks and Justin’s hoplites.
“We’re going to lose the battle,” said Calliande, “if we don’t do something unexpected.”
Hektor grimaced, and then nodded. “Do as you think best, Keeper. May God be with you.”
“And you,” said Calliande, and Hektor turned, raising the Sword of Fire. The Sword blazed with power, and a molten sphere of liquid fire fell out of the sky and exploded in the midst of Justin’s hoplites.
Calliande turned back Kalussa and Kyralion.
“Keeper,” said Kalussa. Calliande saw the despair spreading over her face. “What…what are we going to do?”
For a heartbeat, Calliande did not know what to tell her, and then she thought of what Ridmark would have done, what she had seen him do in situations like this numerous times before.
“We’re going to win,” said Calliande. “Come on!”
She ran to the southeast, Kalussa and Kyralion keeping pace behind her.
###
Ridmark charged forward, encased in the power of the Shield Knight.
The armor was somehow alive, and it made him faster and stronger than even Oathshield’s power allowed. It also leached away his exhaustion, and it covered the pain of his wounds. One of the Vhalorasti warlocks threw a lance of red flame at him, and the blue armor deflected the spell without a scratch.
Three Ironcoats rushed to meet Ridmark, crackling with purple light as th
ey armored themselves with wards to deflect weapon blows. Ridmark met them without hesitation, making no effort to block their attacks. The Ironcoats struck him with terrific force, their bronze swords and axes hammering at him with magic-enhanced force. Had they struck Ridmark, they would have killed him.
But the magical armor of the Shield Knight shrugged off the blows with ease, and Ridmark struck back, Oathshield dealing death with every blow. He left all three Ironcoats dead on the ground, and he turned towards the black-robed warlocks as they unleashed their powers in unison.
Five of the warlocks joined their magic and hurled a howling lance of crimson fire and twisted shadow at Ridmark. It struck him in the chest with enough force that it knocked him back a step. The armor of the Shield Knight held against the furious attack, but the warlocks continued hurling the lance of dark magic at him. Ridmark struggled towards the warlocks. It was like trying to wade uphill through a stream with a powerful current. Their spell could not hurt him, but it did slow him, and he dared not waste a single second. Antenora’s bracer would keep the power of the Shield Knight from exhausting him, but he could still only use that power for a few moments. He had to close and kill Justin before that power expired.
Otherwise, Ridmark did not think he could defeat the King of Cytheria and his warlock allies.
Ridmark forced himself forward another step, the crimson fire of the warlocks’ magic howling around him.
Then Calem landed behind the warlocks, the Sword of Air flashing left and right in his hands. One of the warlocks fell in pieces to the ground, and the dark magic hammering at Ridmark lessened as the orcish sorcerers turned their attention to the new threat. Ridmark surged forward as Calem killed another warlock, and the remaining three sorcerers began a new spell. Fire lashed at Ridmark, but he shrugged it off, killing a warlock with a stab from Oathshield even as Calem cut the others down.
A crack of green light spread across the ground.
“Move!” shouted Ridmark, and Calem leaped away as another gash opened in the earth. It was smaller than the one Justin had used to cut them off from the Mholorasti warriors, but it was more than large enough to swallow Ridmark whole. He sprinted away and avoided the chasm, turning towards Justin.
As he did, more Ironcoats charged at him, and the twisted winged creatures that had once been the Dark Arcanii dove from the sky.
###
“Go!” said Tamlin to Aegeus.
“And where the hell are you going?” said Aegeus.
Tamlin grinned at him and sheathed his sword. “I’ll meet you on the other side, assuming you can catch up to me!”
Before he could change his mind or talk himself out of it, he sprinted for the edge of the massive chasm, casting a spell as he did.
The spell of elemental air took hold, making him faster, and Tamlin kicked off the edge of the chasm. He hurtled through the air like a catapult stone, the abyss yawning beneath him. Far at its bottom, he saw the glint of the armor from the dead Mholorasti warriors who had plunged to their deaths, and Tamlin started to hurtle towards them. Would he join them? At least a fall from that height would be a quick death. The far edge of the chasm rose towards him. He had miscalculated. He wasn’t going to land on the far side. No, he was almost going to make it…
Tamlin hit the far lip of the chasm and almost fell. He seized the ground, his fingers digging into the grassy earth, and heaved himself over. His armor clattered as he rolled onto his back, and Tamlin grunted and heaved himself to his feet.
He started to shout back to Aegeus that he had made it, but there was no time.
Two Ironcoats rushed him, bronze swords in hand, a haze of purple light sheathing them in warding spells. Tamlin didn’t have his sword drawn, and there hadn’t been time to summon magic for another spell.
But the dvargir gamemasters had trained him in every kind of combat, and that included unarmed combat. The first Ironcoat stabbed at him, and Tamlin twisted past the thrust, seized the Ironcoat’s wrist, and swung to the side. As he did, he drove the heel of his boot into the back of the Ironcoat’s knee. The Ironcoat’s leg buckled, and he tumbled over the edge of the chasm with a scream.
A second later the scream ended in an ugly crunch.
Tamlin supposed that he had just killed one of his half-brothers.
The second Ironcoat stabbed again, and the blade clanged against Tamlin’s cuirass. The edge slipped between the plates of bronze and bit into the skin of his chest, and pain erupted through Tamlin. But that didn’t matter. He and pain were old acquaintances, and it didn’t slow him as he brought his fist up and punched the Ironcoat in the neck as hard as he could manage. The Ironcoat’s earth magic protected him from blades of bronze, but it did nothing against human flesh. Tamlin punched him again, and before the Ironcoat could get his breath back, Tamlin grabbed his arm and heaved him over the edge of the chasm.
The Ironcoat did not get his breath back to scream before he hit the bottom.
Tamlin took a deep breath, at last having a moment to yank his sword from its scabbard. There were no Ironcoats nearby, but a short distance to the northeast he saw the winged creatures converging on a man in a white cloak and a warrior armored in blue metal.
That had to be Calem and Ridmark, and they were battling for their lives against the warlocks and the Dark Arcanii.
Tamlin sprinted towards them, calling magic as he ran.
###
“King Justin,” said Atreus, backing away, “what are we going to do?”
Justin considered, just for a moment, turning Atreus to stone simply to shut him up. No, that would be wasteful.
If he was forced to flee, leaving Atreus behind might slow down the Shield Knight and the Whitecloak.
Because Ridmark Arban and Calem were tearing through the warlocks and the Ironcoats.
It was irritating. Justin had spent years training his Ironcoats, turning them into the best warriors in all Owyllain, and the Shield Knight and the man in the white cloak were cutting them down like grain. Given that Justin had just seen a dozen of his sons die in the last few minutes, he supposed that he ought to have been grieved, but he only felt annoyance. The Ironcoats had been tools to him. Useful tools, to be sure, but a man did not become too upset when a useful tool failed.
Besides, if he lived through this, he could always sire some more.
But that was beginning to look like a remote possibility.
Justin called on the Sword of Earth’s power, while next to him Urzhalar cast a spell. The Sword turned the earth beneath the feet of the Shield Knight and Sir Calem to churning, boiling mud. Against any other foes, it would have trapped them or scalded them to death. Instead, Calem leaped away, carried by the power of the Sword of Air, and the Shield Knight simply slogged through it untouched.
Damn it all, could nothing kill that man? Little wonder Andomhaim had somehow survived the attack of the urdmordar if they had an army of such warriors. The surviving Dark Arcanii swooped to attack Ridmark and Calem, but they fought off the winged creatures. The Sword of Air sliced through them and sent them in pieces to the ground. Their spells shattered against the Shield Knight’s blue armor, and Ridmark hacked them apart with sweeping blows of his white-burning sword.
Justin considered his options for retreat.
He was still winning the battle. With the Dark Arcanii withdrawn or slain, Hektor and the Arcanius Knights were unleashing their full strength against Justin’s soldiers, but it was too late for them to turn the tide. Any moment now Hektor’s hoplites would break, and the pagan jotunmiri would be able to turn and attack Hektor’s hoplites in the flank.
And yet if Justin retreated, if that news reached his army, that would destroy their morale and cause them to surrender. If Brasidas realized that Justin had fled, he would think himself free of his oath and pledge his loyalty to Hektor. Atreus was a toad who would follow the strongest leader.
“Patience,” rumbled Urzhalar, as if the Maledictus had guessed Justin’s thoughts.
; Justin glanced at the undead sorcerer.
“The power of the Shield Knight is potent,” said Urzhalar, blue fire and shadow coiling around his fingers, “but mortal flesh cannot sustain that level of magic for long. Soon it will expire, and we shall have him.”
“We do not have that long,” said Justin. Atreus let out a cringing moan.
“Then I shall attack the Shield Knight,” said Urzhalar, “if you can prevent the bearer of the Sword of Air from striking me down.” Something like irritation entered the inhuman voice of the Maledictus. “The bearer of the Sword of Air is not supposed to have been here. It must have gone wrong somehow.”
Justin grimaced. The damned Maledicti and their damned plots for their precious New God. It had hindered his plans more than once. Well, he would make sure they would pay, once he had gathered all the Seven Swords and reunified Owyllain under his banner.
But first, he had to win this damned battle.
“Then do it,” said Justin.
He raised the Sword of Earth and strode forward as the Shield Knight and Calem butchered their way through the last of the Wise Elders of Pyramid of Iron Skulls.
###
Terror went over the warlock’s face, and the orcish sorcerer cast his strongest spell, a deadly column of crimson fire and shadow howling from his fingers.
Ridmark stepped into the attack without slowing, raised Oathshield, and took off the warlock’s head. Green blood spurted from the stump of the warlock’s neck, and the orc fell over as the crimson fire around its hands winked out. The orcish warlocks were powerful foes, but they did not matter. Justin Cyros was the key, Justin and possibly the Maledictus Urzhalar. If Ridmark could just reach them and cut them down, then the battle was over.
He turned and saw Justin running towards him, the Sword of Earth shining with green light in his hand. No, Justin was running towards Calem, and the King of Cytheria gestured as he ran. The ground beneath Calem rippled and shook, and he leaped away, white cloak flaring around him. Justin headed after the younger man, ignoring Ridmark.
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