Ridmark, especially.
She was relieved, so relieved, they were still alive.
But they might not be for long.
For Shadowbearer held the bulk of Calliande’s attention.
Her ancient enemy stood a few yards from both Ridmark and Mournacht, his shadows billowing behind like a long black banner. In his right hand he held a leather pouch, likely holding the empty soulstone Calliande had taken from the Mhalekites on the day she had awakened. In his left hand brilliant blue fire snarled and hissed, killing fire summoned with all the skill of a high elven archmage and all the dark power of Incariel’s shadow behind it.
His shadow began to rotate around him, faster and faster, and his quicksilver eyes narrowed with hatred.
And, perhaps, a trace of fear.
“You,” said Shadowbearer in his double voice. One half of his voice belonged to Tymandain, the high elven archmage who had forsaken his people.
The other half of his voice was the shadow of Incariel itself.
“Eloquent as ever, Tymandain the apostate,” said Calliande. “Perhaps your allegiance to Incariel has eroded your rhetorical skill?”
Morigna let out an incredulous laugh.
Calliande considered the power gathered around Shadowbearer. He held enough power gathered to kill everyone in the Vault in a storm of fire, or to bring the ceiling crashing down upon their heads. She didn’t expect him to fight. As his title implied, Shadowbearer preferred to work from the shadows, manipulating puppets and dupes, and fled from direction confrontation unless victory was certain.
So why was he still here?
“You were not so bold,” said Shadowbearer, “when last we met.”
“I didn’t know who I was then,” said Calliande. “I do now. You had your chance, Tymandain, but you squandered it. You could have killed me on the Black Mountain, but you failed. Your servants have failed to kill me ever since.”
Shadowbearer laughed. “Do not boast of your prowess, Keeper of Andomhaim. You have not the strength for it. You only live because your allies have kept you alive.”
“Of course,” said Calliande, taking a step closer to him. “I am alive because of their help. Do you expect me to be ashamed of that? I could not have come this far without them. Who stands with you? The Mhorites? Your duped slaves in the Enlightened?”
His mirrored eyes narrowed, and the shadow spun faster around him, seeming to hiss and snarl. Again she wondered why he did not flee. He had the soulstone, and surely he could find some orcish shaman or kidnap a Magistrius to empower the stone for the gate.
“Do you really believe you can stop me?” said Shadowbearer, both his voices soft. “You are an interloper, Calliande of Tarlion. This is not your world. Your predecessors brought humans here a thousand years ago, but that is only a blink of an eye in the depths of time I have seen. I came among the high elves and turned them to the worship of Incariel, and the dark elves were born. I walked among the dwarves and the dvargir arose. Now I have corrupted your kindred as well, and the Enlightened of Incariel stand ready to serve me…”
“No,” said Calliande, interrupting his boasts. “The shadow of Incariel did all these things. You, Tymandain, are merely its latest vessel. A tool to be used and then cast aside. You are not my enemy. You are merely the vessel of my enemy.”
The shadow lashed around him like a banner caught in a gale.
“Foolish child,” said Shadowbearer. “I shall be free, and this world shall burn…”
“You?” said Calliande. “Or the shadow of Incariel? Is there a difference any longer?”
Shadowbearer said nothing, the fire in his hand blazing brighter.
“Why don’t you flee?” said Calliande, a realization starting to come to her. “You have the empty soulstone. Take it and travel away. You can likely use it before Ardrhythain finds you again.”
Still Shadowbearer said nothing, his shadow stirring around him like a restless serpent.
“But you can’t, can you?” said Calliande, certain at last. “You can’t travel with magic while holding an empty soulstone.” Mara had given Calliande the answer. After the fall of the Iron Tower, Mara had tried to travel while holding the soulstone, but was unable to do so. She had claimed the soulstone felt too heavy to move, which Calliande had not understood at the time. Now, with the knowledge of the Keeper restored to her, she understood. Mara’s power allowed her to cut across the threshold, and the soulstone was too magically powerful to enter the threshold.
The same limitation, it seemed, bound Shadowbearer so long as he carried the soulstone.
“So you have a choice,” said Calliande, striking the end of her staff against the ground. It flared with brilliant fire as she drew upon its power. “Leave the soulstone and flee, and wait another two or three centuries for the proper conjunction of the thirteen moons. Or stay…and we shall settle this now.”
“Such pride,” said Shadowbearer. “Such confidence. I almost brought your realm of Andomhaim to its knees once before, and I shall do so again.”
“Perhaps,” said Calliande. “Or maybe your hundred thousand years of war will end today. Perhaps all your countless thousands of victims who cry out to the heavens for vengeance will receive it today.”
Shadowbearer started to answer, and then his left hand snapped up. A blast of blue fire and writhing shadow burst from his palm and hurtled towards Calliande, a spell of dark magic strong enough to kill a hundred men in a heartbeat.
Calliande was ready for it.
She called on the power of the Well, channeling it through the mantle of the Keeper, and cast a ward around herself. Shadowbearer’s spell struck the ward and shattered into nothingness, breaking like glass against the Keeper’s granite-hard power.
For that was the secret of the Keeper’s power, the secret of how the Keepers had defended Andomhaim for five centuries before Ardrhythain had founded the Two Orders. Calliande was not stronger than Shadowbearer. She did not have his skill and knowledge. Yet the power of the Keeper was unlike any other magic upon this world, and no magic of this world could resist it, just as an iron nail could not resist the pull of a lodestone. That secret had allowed the Keeper to defy orcish warlocks and dark elven wizards and the fury of the urdmordar.
And perhaps that secret would allow Calliande to put an end to Shadowbearer’s evil at last.
She cast another spell, this one of elemental magic, similar to the ones her predecessor must have taught Antenora centuries ago. Calliande called elemental fire to her hand, fed it through the mantle of the Keeper, and focused it into a tight beam. The shaft of fire leapt from her hand and arced towards Shadowbearer. It would have sliced through his wards and ripped him in half, but the corrupted archmage gestured with his free hand. One of the stone tables leapt from the floor and intercepted Calliande’s spell. Her beam sliced the table in half, its glowing halves falling to the floor with a thunderous crash, the cut edges smoking and white-hot.
“Kill them!” screamed Shadowbearer, both his voices thundering through the Vault of the Kings. “Kill the Keeper! Kill them all! Kill them all now!”
He began another spell, and Calliande summoned more power as chaos erupted around her. The Mhorites charged, likely believing that Mhor had commanded them to kill. Mournacht sprang at Ridmark, his black axe a blur of dark steel and bloody fire, and Ridmark barely got out of the way in time. Calliande would have aided him, but she dared not turn her attention from Shadowbearer.
Either she would kill him, or he would kill her.
She cast another ward as Shadowbearer unleashed his power at her.
###
Mournacht charged, and Ridmark fought for his life.
He was tired and wounded, his limbs aching, his chest and stomach battered and bruised beneath his dark elven armor, which he supposed better than having his guts split open by a Mhorite axe. But his exhaustion and pain did not matter, not when the battle still hung in the balance.
Not when there was a chance of f
inal triumph.
So he ducked Mournacht’s next attack, spun, and put all his strength into the blow. Again his staff struck Mournacht’s face with a loud crunch, the orcish shaman’s head snapping back. Mournacht had healed the previous damage Ridmark had dealt to him, but the blow still hurt, sending the shaman reeling back. Ridmark hit him again, and again, trying force his advantage home before Mournacht recovered.
The Mhorite warriors separated them, rushing to the aid of their shaman. Ridmark retreated as four Mhorite warriors attacked, slashing with swords and axes. He parried a sword blow aimed for his head, ducked under an axe, and crushed a Mhorite’s throat with a sharp blow from his staff. A sword bounced off his stomach, and another opened a cut upon his left leg, and Ridmark stumbled. The Mhorites pursued him for the kill, and then the floor rippled around him. Morigna’s earth magic knocked over the Mhorites. Ridmark seized the opening and killed two Mhorites in quick succession, but more warriors charged into the gap. Mournacht himself pursued, pushing aside his warriors to get at Ridmark, his black axe burning anew with his dark magic.
White fire flashed against the bloody fire of Mournacht’s power, and Gavin and Arandar charged into the fray. Mournacht roared and withdrew, slipping back to a defensive posture. The soulblades had taught Mournacht caution. He had been strong enough to fight the Traveler to a standstill, but even the Traveler had feared the soulblades carried by the Swordbearers of Andomhaim.
Kharlacht and Caius joined the battle, and the melee swirled through the wreckage of the Vault as the bearer of shadow and the Keeper of Andomhaim unleashed their powers at one another.
###
“I think I can get behind him,” said Mara, taking a deep breath. “If I surprise him…”
“No!” said Antenora, her staff beginning to burn again. “The bearer of shadow is too well warded from attack. A soulblade would penetrate his wards, but even a blade of dark elven steel would not.” She shook her head, her dark cowl rustling. “If you stand too close to him, the Keeper’s power might well destroy you by mistake.”
Morigna had to admit that seemed likely.
Ridmark, Gavin, Arandar, Kharlacht, and Caius fought with vigor, attacking the Mhorites that swarmed around them. Mournacht hung back, bellowing commands to his warriors. He no longer seemed as eager to engage Ridmark. Likely he hoped to avoid the killing fire of the soulblades. It was a ferocious, bloody fight, with Mhorite after Mhorite falling to the skill of Ridmark and the others.
Yet it seemed like a tiny thing compared to the fury snarling back and forth between Calliande and Shadowbearer.
Calliande attacked, and she no longer wielded just the power of the Well. Now she also struck with blasts of elemental fire similar to Antenora’s magic, but with far more focus and precision. The Keeper unleashed attacks of elemental stone, the floor exploding beneath Shadowbearer, or gales of elemental wind to drive back the ancient archmage. Even with all that, Calliande still attacked with blasts of the Well’s white fire. Ardrhythain and the Warden had been more powerful, but Morigna had never seen a human unleash such a display of magical prowess as Calliande did now, not even the Old Man himself.
It frightened her a little.
Shadowbearer frightened her much more.
The bearer of shadow defended himself with savage fury, conjuring blasts of ghostly blue fire and lances of darkness to attack the Keeper. Even without casting the spell to sense the presence of magical forces, Morigna felt the raw power of those attacks. Those spells should have shattered Calliande’s wards, killed her instantly, and left her and everything around her for a hundred yards reduced to lifeless ash. Yet her wards held firm beneath the assault.
And to Morigna’s astonishment, Shadowbearer seemed unable to ward himself from Calliande’s attacks. Whenever Calliande’s spells touched his wards, they collapsed like paper. To defend himself, Shadowbearer interposed objects between him and Calliande – stone benches, chests of dwarven steel, even the corpses of dead Mhorites. Whenever Calliande attacked him, whether with white fire or elemental flame or fists of stone that reached from the ground, he stopped his attacks and used invisible force to pull something to use as a makeshift shield.
“I think,” said Jager, his voice awed. He had fallen back to protect Mara and the others. “I think she’s winning.”
“How?” said Morigna. “Calliande’s magic is not strong enough, even with the staff of the Keeper.”
“The power of the Keeper is potent,” said Antenora.
“That’s not it,” said Mara. “Her magic…the magic of Shadowbearer cannot resist it. I think it is because the power of the Keeper originated upon Old Earth. It is alien to the magic of this world. Shadowbearer’s power cannot stand against it.”
“Why does Shadowbearer not simply drop the soulstone and travel away?” said Jager. “Tarrabus and the other Enlightened said he could travel from place to place in an instant.”
“He should,” said Mara, and her green eyes widened. “He won’t! He’s spent too long trying to reclaim the soulstone, and he won’t let it go now. He needs it, but he cannot escape so long as he holds it. We have to find a way to help Calliande!”
“How?” said Morigna. Blue fire contested against white, thunder and the screams of battle echoing through the Vault.
“This is Calliande’s chance to kill Shadowbearer!” said Mara. “He founded the Enlightened. He trained your Old Man. He’s trying to summon the Frostborn. If Calliande kills him now, it all ends!”
“I do not dispute your logic,” said Morigna, “but one wonders how we can possibly help! This is beyond my skill. We should aid Ridmark and the others instead.” So far they were holding their own against Mournacht and his guards, but the shaman had begun flinging spells into the battle. Every time he did, Gavin or Arandar had to use their soulblades’ power to deflect the spell, allowing the Mhorites to gain another few steps. Very soon the Mhorites would encircle them, and the battle would end after that.
“No,” said Antenora. “The lady of shadows speaks truly. If we defeat Shadowbearer, the Keeper can crush the orcish shaman in a matter of moments.”
“Mara and I will assist Ridmark,” said Jager. “You two are the sorceresses, you figure out how to help Calliande. If Mara or I tried, we’d be dead in three seconds.”
Mara nodded and followed Jager as he sprinted across the open space. She flickered into blue fire and reappeared behind a Mhorite, hamstringing him with a quick slash of her sword. Jager finished off the Mhorite warrior with a casual stab, and the two of them went on the attack, causing chaos among the Mhorites struggling against Ridmark and the others. Morigna wondered what their courtship must have been like. Had Jager invited her to come rob a nobleman? Or had Mara asked his help for an assassination?
She pushed aside the thought. Fatigue was making her light-headed, her thoughts scattering at random.
“Now,” said Antenora, pointing her staff. “Let us strike as one.”
Morigna nodded and gestured, forcing her weary will to call more earth magic. A soft whisper in her mind suggested using dark magic against Shadowbearer, but she rejected that idea at once. Trying to use dark magic against him would have been like trying to put out a forest fire with a lit candle. Instead she called a pillar of acidic mist that wreathed him like a bank of cloud, and Antenora flung a fireball that exploded against him with a booming roar.
Neither spell did anything. Morigna’s mist sputtered and dissolved against Shadowbearer’s wards, while Antenora’s fire crackled into smoke. For a moment Morigna feared Shadowbearer would direct his wrath against them, but the corrupted archmage did not even look away from the Keeper. Calliande held his full attention and concentration. Even as Morigna watched, Calliande sent another lance of white fire at Shadowbearer, only for a stone table to leap from the floor and block the attack, coins flying in all directions.
A stone table…
Morigna blinked as an idea came to her. She could not batter down Shadowbearer’s wards.
She could not even hurt him. She could, however, command the element of stone.
And those tables were made of stone.
###
Ridmark beat aside the thrust of a Mhorite sword, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulders and chest. The Mhorite warrior came on, and Ridmark retreated, letting the orc pursue him. At last the Mhorite stumbled over the outstretched arm of a dead Anathgrimm warrior, and Ridmark drove his staff forward, crushing the warrior’s throat. The Mhorite fell, choking and gagging, and joined his comrades upon the floor.
Between the dead orcs, the blood, the rubble, and the melted patches of gold, the footing was becoming increasingly treacherous.
Blue fire flashed behind another Mhorite, and Mara appeared behind the warrior, driving her short sword into his armpit. The Mhorite bellowed and jerked free of the blade, turning to face her, and Ridmark swung his staff. The length of black wood struck the Mhorite’s head, the shock traveling up Ridmark’s arms and into his shoulders, and the Mhorite went limp and joined to the growing collection of corpses upon the floor.
Mournacht roared and thrust his axe, and shadows and crimson fire leapt from its massive blades. Gavin moved to defend, raising Truthseeker, and a shell of white light shimmered around him. An instant later Mournacht’s spell of dark magic struck him, his power snarling and clawing against the soulblade’s protection. Mournacht’s power proved no contest against the might of the soulblade, but it did force Gavin to stop.
The Mhorite warriors closed around Gavin, hoping to take down a Swordbearer. Ridmark rushed to defend him, collapsing a Mhorite’s skull with his staff and tripping a second warrior, bringing his weapon around in time to deflect a sword thrust that would otherwise have taken him in the throat. Arandar rushed to Gavin’s aid, swinging Heartwarden with enough power that the soulblade took off a Mhorite’s head with a single mighty blow. Mournacht bellowed a spell, and another bolt of shadow-wreathed fire leaped from his axe. Arandar spun, Heartwarden blazing as the soulblade protected him from the killing wrath of the spell. The charging Mhorite warriors shifted to attack Arandar, and Gavin released his own protections, coming to attack. Truthseeker’s power gave him speed and strength, and he beheaded one Mhorite and took the sword arm from another. Ridmark joined the attack, and killed three Mhorites in quick succession, while Jager and Mara caused chaos and Kharlacht and Caius fought in skillful unison.
Frostborn: The Broken Mage Page 29