“No one ever has perfect self-control,” said Calliande. “No one is ever completely in control of their own lives.”
“You have perfect self-control…” started Kalussa.
Calliande’s laugh drowned the rest of her sentence.
“What?” said Kalussa, half-bewildered, half-offended.
“I have perfect self-control?” said Calliande. “That’s very flattering, but it’s also dead wrong. I just told you that Ridmark could have had me any time he wanted. And if I had control over my life, do you think I would be here? No. Ridmark and I would be at home in Tarlion…with all three of our children.”
“Your daughter,” said Kalussa.
“Yes,” said Calliande. “Joanna.” She took a ragged breath. “You can’t control everything about your life, Kalussa. Sometimes bad things come into your life, like Joanna’s death. But sometimes good things come into your life, and I think that Calem is one of those things. And I also think that you should talk to him soon, and if you don’t, you’ll regret it for a long time.”
“I feel like such a fool,” said Kalussa.
“Love can do that to you,” said Calliande.
“I mean that it was worse for you,” said Kalussa. Calliande noted that Kalussa did not argue that she wasn’t in love with Calem. “I just…well, you know what the dream spell caused me to do. But it showed you Joanna. That must have been cruel.”
“It was,” agreed Calliande. “And I will always mourn for my daughter. But I have too much to do to let it paralyze me.” Her eyes narrowed. “And the Maledicti will come for us again, I’m sure of it. When they do, I’m going to make them regret using that grief as a weapon.”
“I imagine their regret will only last a short time,” said Kalussa.
“One hopes.”
Kalussa took a deep breath. “Thank you. I don’t know if I feel better, but it was good to talk about it with someone. I…I should try to talk to Calem soon. Not yet, but soon. God, I don’t even know what I’ll say to him. I’ll apologize for seducing him…”
Calliande raised her eyebrows. “He blames himself for seducing you.”
“What? No. That is not how it happened,” said Kalussa.
“Since you both blame each other,” said Calliande, “perhaps you can forgive each other and start over. If you really want to have a husband and children, you’ll have to learn to forgive each other at some point.”
“Maybe you are right,” said Kalussa. “I think…”
Calliande didn’t hear the rest of the sentence.
The Sight surged through her, and she saw currents of magical power flowing through the lowest tier of the ruined city.
Something was waking up.
“Keeper?” said Kalussa.
Calliande leaned over the ruined wall and gazed at the street below, sending the Sight sweeping before her.
She found the currents of power at once. Dozens of concentrations of magical force moved through the street below, converging on the ruined tower where Calliande and the others sheltered. Each one of those concentrations of magical force was potent. They weren’t things of dark magic, but rather warding magic. Likely these were the guardians that Magatai and Kyralion had mentioned.
And they were coming to confront the new intruders to their city.
“Lady Calliande,” murmured Kalussa. “Those lights.”
Calliande blinked. She had been so focused on the Sight that she had neglected what her physical eyes had been telling her. In the streets below, she saw dozens of pale white lights moving towards the tower, almost like men carrying lanterns of white glass.
“The guardians,” said Calliande. “We had better join the others right now. We may have to fight.”
Kalussa nodded and followed Calliande towards the stairs.
###
Third stood in the doorway of the great hall, watching the silent streets of Cathair Avamyr.
She supposed the sight would have put someone else into a melancholy mood. There was a solemn grandeur to the ruined city, an air of inevitable loss. The gray elves had put up such a fight to save their homes and families and civilization from the Sovereign’s tide.
They had fought, and they had lost.
It was a sad thought, but Third was used to it. She had seen centuries of battle, had seen men die to defend their homes again and again. Sometimes their sacrifices saved their families.
Sometimes they did not.
That made her thoughts turn to Kyralion. The Augurs had sent him alone on his mission without adequate arms and armor, and they had lied about the vision they had seen. Yet he had never complained. He carried on, doing his duty. She wondered if he had family in the Illicaeryn Jungle. A father and a mother who were still alive? Brothers and sisters?
A wife?
It was such an absurd thing to think about, but her thoughts turned in that direction. It was such a useless fantasy. Third had no wish to settle in the Illicaeryn Jungle. She desired to fulfill her mission from Queen Mara and High King Arandar and return home to the Nightmane Forest. For that matter, she knew Kyralion had no desire to leave his kindred. A man who would undertake such an arduous mission to save his people would not abandon them. Certainly, he would not abandon them to run off with an ancient half-human, half dark elven hybrid…
Third’s breath hissed through her teeth.
A flicker of light caught her eye. She had been brooding, but she was too experienced to let the brooding override her vigilance. Third took a cautious step forward, her hands dropping to her sword hilts.
A white light was moving through the street. More than one white light, come to think of it. And they were moving towards the ruined tower. Third took a step back, intending to go up and warn the others.
A glance back told her that was unnecessary. Ridmark and Calliande hurried down the stairs, Kalussa right behind them. Kyralion and the others came with them. Magatai came on foot, leaving Northwind in the library chamber with the scutians. It was a solid choice. The struthian’s speed could not be put to proper use in the streets. For all his bravado, the Takai halfling had solid tactical sense.
“You saw the lights?” said Third.
“I did,” said Calliande, coming to a halt near the doors. “With the Sight. They are concentrations of magical force. Guardian spirits, I think.”
“The guardians of the city,” said Magatai. “You remember the suits of gray elven armor we fought in the Tower of Nightmares, friend Third?”
“Hard thing to forget,” said Third.
“These guardians are akin to them,” said Magatai. “They are suits of armor with crystals in the chest. Soulstones, like the one in friend Kyralion’s sword.” He tapped the bronze sword that hung at his belt. “The only way to defeat them is by prying the soulstone free of their cuirasses. That is what Magatai did. When he defeated them, the spirits offered him a boon, and he departed with it, having completed his Blood Quest.”
“Here they come,” said Ridmark, lifting Oathshield.
Third waited as the guardians came into sight.
There were dozens of them, and they wore the armor of the gray elves, overlapping plates of golden metal upon a backing of chain mail. Swords rested in their gauntlets, and white crystals shone on their chests. They wore golden helms with T-shaped slits in the front, and glowing white mist swirled and danced within the helms.
“What are they?” murmured Tamara.
Third didn’t expect anyone to answer, but Calliande spoke.
“Memories,” she said, blinking as she drew on the Sight. “The memories of gray elven warriors, recorded in the soulstones. It is a weaker version of the spell used on the soulblades. They are constructions of magic, but they have the memories and skills of gray elven warriors.”
“They must make formidable fighters,” said Krastikon.
“They did,” said Third, remembering the battle outside the Chamber of Meditation. “Focus upon the soulstones, as Magatai said. If we can knock them free, th
at will break the spells…”
She trailed off.
The armored forms went motionless, dozens of glowing helms staring at them.
“They appear to be waiting for something,” said Tamlin. “Did they do this the last time you were here?”
“They did not, Sir Tamlin,” said Magatai. The halfling sounded puzzled. “They attacked at once.”
Then voices began speaking, dozens of them at once. They were deep and toneless but filled with authority nonetheless.
Third realized that the guardians were speaking.
“You are of our kindred.”
“Magatai thinks they mean you, friend Kyralion,” said Magatai.
“Yes,” said Kyralion.
He stepped forward, golden sword in his right hand.
“Name yourself,” said the chorus.
“I am Kyralion of the Illicaeryn Jungle,” he said.
The golden figures considered him. “You are not of the Unity.”
“No,” said Kyralion.
“Then you are the one. You are the herald. The hour of doom has come.”
“The herald?” said Kyralion. “The herald of what?”
“The doom of our kindred. Our doom, or our salvation. Is the woman of flames with you?”
Third shifted, the tension within her mind hardening. Kyralion looked at her.
“Yes, she is here,” said Kyralion. “But she can speak for herself.”
Third stepped forward, and she felt the attention of the guardians settle upon her like a physical weight.
“You are the woman of flames. You are the woman of blue fire. You are the lady of war.”
“I do not know what any of that means,” said Third. “I am Third of Nightmane Forest, sister of Queen Mara. I came here to bring the Shield Knight and Keeper back to Andomhaim. Until I came to Owyllain, I knew nothing of the gray elves or Cathair Avamyr or the Sovereign. How do you know who I am?”
“Our vision is unanchored in time,” said the chorus. “We can see the tapestry of fate, and we have watched our kindred dwindle beneath the wrath of the Sovereign. At last the fate of the Liberated comes to its end, and we shall either meet our doom or we shall be saved.”
“How?” said Kyralion.
“The woman of flames shall be the instrument of our destruction or our salvation,” said the guardians.
“And how will I do that?” said Third. A mixture of irritation and confusion and growing anger went through her. “How can I possibly destroy you or save you? I am just one woman, and I know barely anything about you.”
“We have seen you walk your path through the web of fate,” said the chorus. “Your sister had and has a mighty destiny and decided the fate of nations. You, too, shall decide the fate of nations.”
“Tell me how,” said Third.
“We have seen you walk through the tapestry of time,” said the guardians. “You were the daughter and slave of a mighty dark elven lord. Your sister slew him, and now you are free. The threads of many others wrap about your decisions.”
“That does not answer the question!” said Third, her voice sharper than she intended.
“You and Lord Kyralion shall stand at the apex of fate,” said the guardians. “The Kratomachar is rising, and its servants have come to destroy our kindred. You shall break the Unity, or reforge it. You shall save the Liberated or destroy them.”
“Tell me more,” said Third.
“We cannot, for the future is still in flux,” said the guardians. “We shall allow you and your companions to depart in peace, for you are not the enemies of the Liberated. Yet you must beware. Your enemies come for you. Be on your guard. Kyralion of the Illicaeryn Jungle. Guard well the woman of flames, for without her, our people are doomed.”
With that, the guardians turned and walked away, dispersing back into the city.
No one spoke for a while.
“Well,” said Magatai at last. “That was very strange.”
Chapter 5: Firebow
The next morning Ridmark and Third went to the great hall.
“I suggest that we ascend to the outer wall and make a circuit of it,” said Third. Ridmark did not think she had slept at all last night. Her face was calm as ever, but the lines around her mouth and eyes seemed sharper, and there were dark circles under her black eyes. “From there we will overlook the surrounding plains. We will be able to see if anyone approaches.”
“That is a good plan,” said Ridmark. He wondered if she wanted to talk about what the guardians had said last night. Well, if she wanted to, she would bring it up.
Third glanced towards the higher tiers of the city and the towers of the ruined fortress at its heart. “Unless we wanted to go higher. We would have a better view from the top of the city.” Her mouth twisted. “The guardians ought to let me pass. Since I am apparently their liberator or their destroyer.”
“Perhaps not,” said Ridmark. “We don’t understand the ancient magic of the gray elves. Best not to take the risk. The view from the outer wall should be sufficient.”
Third hesitated, and then nodded. “Yes. That is reasonable.” Again, her mouth twisted. “Nothing about the magic of the gray elves makes any sense, so why should their guardians make any sense as well?”
She took two steps to the side, and then back again. Pacing was unlike her. She was far more agitated than she wanted to show.
“Why?” said Third. “Why did the guardians tell me these things? Why tell me that I could save or destroy them?”
“I don’t know,” said Ridmark.
“And Kyralion,” said Third. “I…” She took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology.”
Ridmark frowned. “I cannot possibly see how.”
“When we fought the Frostborn,” said Third, “and I met the Keeper for the first time. I could not understand why you were so conflicted. I do now.”
“Because of Kyralion,” said Ridmark.
“Yes,” said Third. She gave an irritated shake of her head, the black tail of her hair slapping against her shoulders. “I do not…” She sighed. “I do not wish to discuss this further. Let us go scout.”
“As you wish,” said Ridmark.
Third took a step forward and then stopped. Ridmark wondered if she had changed her mind and wanted to talk, but instead, she turned towards the stairs.
Kyralion descended, hesitated, and then strode towards them.
“Lord Ridmark, Lady Third,” said Kyralion. “It is good you are here. I need to speak with you both.”
“What is it?” said Ridmark.
Kyralion stopped, took a deep breath, looked at Third, and then back at Ridmark.
“I think it is time that I return to the Illicaeryn Jungle,” said Kyralion.
Third blinked, once. From her, that was like she had flinched.
“You feel that your people need you,” said Ridmark.
“Yes,” said Kyralion. “When I departed the Illicaeryn Jungle, the chief threat facing the Liberated was the plague curse that Qazaldhar had cast upon the Unity. That was something I was not equipped to fight, for I have no magic. Then the Augurs had their vision of the woman of flames and the Shield Knight and the Keeper, and I was sent to find you. I thought that perhaps if we were successful, if we defeated the New God and destroyed the Seven Swords, that might end the plague curse. But since we have come to Kalimnos, I have learned that the muridachs have moved against my people in far greater numbers than I thought. They have always been a threat to the Liberated of the Illicaeryn Jungle, but not like this.” He took another deep breath.
“You cannot fight against the plague curse,” said Ridmark, understanding, “but you can take up arms against the muridachs and fight to defend your people against them.”
“Yes,” said Kyralion. “I have a duty. The Augurs sent me to find the Shield Knight and the Keeper and the woman in flames, and I have done so. I thought this would save my people, but perhaps the Augurs were mistaken.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps you will defea
t the New God, and my intervention at the proper time ensured you will survive to be victorious.”
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark. He shook his head. “But you feel you must do this?”
Third said nothing, her eyes on Kyralion.
“I must,” said Kyralion. “It is my duty. My conscience tells me this.”
“We will miss your help,” said Ridmark. “We wouldn’t have won against Khurazalin or the Necromancer without your aid.”
“And I will miss the company of you and the others,” said Kyralion. “I have never felt…at home as I do now. But I have my duty, as you have yours.”
“Kyralion,” said Third, her face a mask.
Kyralion looked at her, and they stared at each other.
“You…could come with me, Lady Third,” said Kyralion. Third swallowed, a muscle twitching near her eye. “The Unity needs warriors, and you are a great warrior. You would be welcome among us.”
“As you are welcome among your kindred?” said Third. “You said yourself that you are an outcast, that you are not part of the Unity.”
“Perhaps,” said Kyralion, “but we are in no position to turn away help. And…I would like you to come with me.”
They stared at each other. Ridmark felt like he was intruding on a private moment.
“Kyralion,” said Third. She closed her eyes, opened them again. “I…”
Ridmark never did find out what she intended to say.
There was a flash of reddish-orange light to the south, and Ridmark looked in that direction just in time to see a fireball erupt over the crumbling towers, followed a half-second later by a ringing thunderclap.
###
Calliande rolled her shoulders, adjusting the weight of the gray elven armor over her tunic and gambeson. She never liked wearing armor, though she recognized the necessity. Perhaps she ought not to complain. Men spent weeks at a time in armor while marching in the field. Then again, men generally did not have breasts that the armor always seemed to pinch.
She was walking in circles, trying to get the armor settled, so she was in front of the library’s southern window when she saw the explosion.
Sevenfold Sword: Unity Page 9