Sevenfold Sword: Unity

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Well,” said Krastikon, “far be it from me to argue with Magatai.”

  Ridmark looked at Arliach and Nilarion and the other gray elves. “Your kindred will let us pass? I would prefer not to have arrows shot at me from behind every tree and bush.”

  “We can continue unhindered,” said Arliach. He hesitated and looked at the other gray elves. “We sense none of the other Liberated at this time. Likely they have all withdrawn further south. And the jungle no longer offers any protection. The muridachs have advanced in such numbers that they will flush out all our hiding places and hidden trails.”

  “Then let’s not linger here,” said Ridmark.

  They continued into the jungle, following a trail that Arliach pointed out. The narrow trail and the thickness of the undergrowth forced them to go in pairs and single file. Third volunteered to bring up the back of the line, keeping watch for any muridachs that might have followed them from the steppes.

  She remained vigilant as she followed the trail, watching the thick foliage around the path. It seemed a safe assumption that the brighter a plant was, the more poisonous it would be. Though Third suspected that any dangerous animals would be camouflaged and hide themselves in the trees. She would have to ask Kyralion about that.

  As if her thoughts had summoned him, Kyralion came into sight and fell in alongside her.

  “Lord Kyralion,” said Third.

  “Lady Third,” he answered. “Lord Ridmark suggested we both keep watch. He thought that two pairs of eyes would have a better chance of spotting foes than just one.”

  “He is usually right about such things,” said Third.

  Kyralion smiled a little. “Then we can stride boldly into the jungle together, just as Magatai said.”

  “It is home for you, I think,” said Third.

  “I wonder,” said Kyralion. “Magatai makes what I have done sound bolder than it really was.”

  “Does he?” said Third. “He did not speak falsehood. You did the things that he described.” She hesitated. “And you seem bolder than your fellows who are part of the Unity.”

  “It is easy to be bold and act against the consensus of the Unity when you do not have the Unity inside of your head,” said Kyralion. “I think…”

  He fell silent and shook his head.

  “What is it?” said Third.

  Kyralion took a deep breath and took her hand.

  A shock went through Third’s nerves, but it was a pleasant shock. His hand felt hard and strong against hers, the fingers layered with calluses from bow and sword. She felt a sudden fluttering feeling in her stomach. Third had heard people describe butterflies in their stomach, but she had never experienced it before.

  “Kyralion,” said Third.

  “If I was really a bold man,” said Kyralion, “I would have done this long ago.”

  He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. She made no effort to stop him, and she found herself kissing him back a few heartbeats later, her free arm coiling around his back. At last Kyralion stepped back, and Third gazed at him, her heart racing.

  “We,” she said, trying to force moisture back into her throat. “We should keep walking.”

  “Yes,” said Kyralion. He took a deep breath. “It would not be wise to become separated from the others here.”

  They walked in silence for a few moments.

  “I…do not think it would work,” said Third. “We are too different.”

  “I know,” said Kyralion. “But we might die in the next few days. If I do die, I will die with one less regret.” He blinked and then smiled. “And Magatai was right.”

  “About what?”

  “It is indeed better to be bold.”

  The laugh burst from Third’s throat before she could stop it.

  For the rest of the day, she felt herself smiling from time to time for no reason.

  Chapter 8: Cathair Caedyn

  Two days after leaving the steppes, the jungles thinned, and Calliande saw the strange aura with the Sight.

  She had traveled through many different forests over the years, but Calliande had never seen a forest quite like the Illicaeryn Jungle. The trees were huge, rising as tall as the great redwoods in the forest north of Aenesium, their branches spreading over the sky like the vaulted ceiling of a mighty cathedral. The thick canopy blocked the sun, and the floor of the jungle was always dim, the path surrounded by thick bushes and vines and brilliant flowers. The humidity never wavered, but at least they were out of the sun.

  For two days they pushed south, the ground flat save for the tangles of the massive roots, and at last the earth began to slope upward. The trees grew thinner and smaller, and shafts of golden sunlight stabbed through the canopy, stark against the green background.

  And Calliande saw the strange aura.

  “Calliande?” said Ridmark.

  She blinked at him and then realized that she had come to a stop in surprise.

  “The aura,” she said. “There’s a magical aura ahead. It’s huge and powerful, and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “A warding spell?” said Ridmark.

  “No,” said Calliande, trying to focus the Sight to make sense of it. “It’s…I don’t know, Ridmark. It’s powerful, but it’s not a ward. It’s alien, but it’s not dark magic. It’s…”

  She trailed off as the foliage rustled and Third and Kyralion came into sight along the trail. Third was staring to the south with a hard expression, her hands flexing as if she wanted to grasp the hilts of her swords.

  “What is it?” said Ridmark.

  “I can hear it,” said Third.

  “The aura,” said Calliande, understanding. “You can hear the aura.” Both Mara and Third had told Calliande that their minds interpreted the auras of powerful dark elven lords as songs, as beautiful, terrible, compelling songs.

  “Yes,” said Third.

  “There’s a dark elven lord ahead?” said Ridmark. He drew Oathshield a few inches from its scabbard and glanced at it, but no white fire danced around the blade.

  “It is not the aura of a dark elven lord,” said Third. She looked almost haunted. “I…do not know what it is. I have never encountered anything like it before.”

  “Does it have something to do with the Unity?” said Calliande to Kyralion.

  The gray elf shrugged. “I do not know, Lady Calliande. I have never been part of the Unity and do not understand how it works. Yet we are nearly to the final refuge of my people. Perhaps you sense part of our magical defenses.”

  “In a way, Lady Calliande,” said Arliach’s voice.

  She turned her head and saw Arliach and Nilarion approaching. The journey had worn hard upon the gray elves, their pale faces slick with sweat, their strange eyes bright and feverish. Yet they pressed ever onward without complaint.

  “The aura,” said Calliande. “It has something to do with the Unity, doesn’t it?” Already the Sight showed the web of connections between the gray elves shifting, strands moving to join the aura radiating from the south.

  “It does,” said Arliach. “What does the Sight show you, Keeper?”

  Calliande considered the aura. The Sight interpreted it as a strange emerald-colored light. Yet there were sickly-looking yellow threads in the light, threads that wrapped into the taint she saw in the web of the Unity.

  “Sick,” she said at last. “The aura looks like it is sick and dying.”

  “Yes,” said Third. “The song…it sounds like the final song of a dying man.”

  “That is because the Unity is dying, and the Liberated with it,” said Arliach. “You are about to see the truth of us, Lady Calliande.”

  “Things that no human has ever seen, save for Kothlaric Pendragon when he came here to ask our aid against the Sovereign,” said Nilarion. “Perhaps it would have been better if we had refused him.”

  “Or perhaps it would be worse,” said Arliach. He took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his eyes. “There are things that the
Liberated are forbidden to speak of to outsiders, my lady, but you are about to see some of those things with your own eyes. We are approaching Cathair Caedyn, the final city of the Liberated.”

  “A city?” said Calliande. “I thought you lived in the Illicaeryn Jungle as nomads.”

  Nilarion smiled. “That is the impression we wished to give.”

  “Cathair Caedyn is our stronghold and our refuge,” said Arliach, “and it is home to the heart of the Unity…the Sylmarus itself.”

  “What is the Sylmarus?” said Calliande.

  “It is easier to show you,” said Arliach. “Come.”

  ###

  The jungle grew thinner, the trees shorter and farther apart.

  Then, at last, they came out of the jungle, and Ridmark looked upon the walls of Cathair Caedyn.

  The jungle opened into a wide clearing, perhaps five or six miles across. A low hill took up the central half of that clearing, and the city rested atop the hill, surrounded by its tall wall of gleaming white stone. It looked like a smaller version of Cathair Avamyr, with the same style of towers and domes and houses, and Ridmark saw the similarity to the gray elven fortresses in the Pass of Ruins. Yet Cathair Caedyn was not yet ruined. It looked large enough to house twenty or thirty thousand gray elves, though Ridmark wondered how many actually lived in the city.

  It was a beautiful place, and the solemn grandeur he had seen in gray elven ruins was reflected in the strong lines of the walls and towers. Yet that was not the most remarkable thing about the city.

  The huge tree that rose from the heart of Cathair Caedyn drew the eye.

  It was the single largest tree that Ridmark had ever seen. It had to stand at least a half a mile tall, higher than even the Tower of the Moon in Tarlion, and the base of the trunk was three hundred feet across. The branches soared overhead and covered the central third of city with their canopy. Veins of brilliant green light spread beneath the trunk, and the strange tree gave off a sense of power and strength and vitality.

  Or, at least, it would have.

  Because the great tree was obviously dying.

  Half the branches had lost their leaves, and many of the remaining branches looked diseased, large patches of bark missing from the limbs. Scattered across the trunk and branches, Ridmark saw huge black growths that looked almost tumorous. It reminded him of the plague magic that Qazaldhar had unleashed in Trojas.

  Behind Ridmark, the others came out of the trees and stared at the city. Tamlin, Tamara, Krastikon, and Magatai gazed at the city and the tree with obvious wonder on their expressions. Even Northwind somehow seemed impressed. Calem’s expression was a blank mask, as always, and Kalussa held the Staff of Blades before her like a shield. Kyralion’s face was hard, and Third’s calm, but Ridmark knew her well enough to see the tension.

  “Cathair Caedyn,” said Arliach. “The last living city of the Liberated in this world.”

  Calliande nodded, her eyes on the enormous tree. “And that tree, I assume, is the Sylmarus?”

  “Yes,” said Arliach. “It is the heart of the Unity.”

  “It’s alive,” murmured Calliande, her eyes going hazy as she drew on the Sight.

  Ridmark frowned. “Aren’t trees usually alive?”

  Though given the black growths and the dead branches, Ridmark wondered how long the Sylmarus would stay that way.

  “Yes,” said Calliande. “But not like this. That tree, Ridmark…it’s awake. It’s a thinking being. And old, so old. Maybe as old as this world.” She shivered. “Maybe even older than the high elves.” She shook her head, blinked her eyes back into focus, and looked at Arliach. “How is the Sylmarus the heart of the Unity, Lord Arliach? It has powerful magic, magic beyond anything that a human or a gray elf could wield.”

  “That is a question for the High Augur, my lady,” said Arliach. He and Nilarion looked at the white walls of Cathair Caedyn, as did all the other gray elves in perfect unison.

  “It is safe to assume that the High Augur knows we are here,” said Ridmark.

  Arliach blinked a few times and then nodded. “Yes. The High Augur requests our presence at once in the Court of the Sylmarus.” He turned to Kyralion. “She wishes to speak with you immediately.”

  “I can imagine,” said Kyralion. From time to time, Ridmark had seen a hint of bitterness on Kyralion’s face, and that bitterness returned now. Kyralion had said that he was outcast from the Unity, and he was clearly not part of the harmony the other gray elves shared. Yet the gray elven warriors admired him, even seemed to hold him in awe at times. Perhaps Kyralion wasn’t as outcast from the gray elves as he thought.

  Or maybe this High Augur and the other Augurs did not care for Kyralion, and something of their dislike spread into the consensus of the Unity. Ridmark did not like that thought. He had assumed the Unity joined all the gray elves equally together, but what if the Augurs had more power within that silent communion than the other gray elves? That kind of power could easily be abused.

  “Then let’s not keep the High Augur waiting,” said Ridmark.

  The gray elves fell in around them as they traversed the field towards the city and its hill.

  “Lord Arliach,” said Calliande, “what exactly are the duties of the Augurs?”

  It seemed that some of Ridmark’s suspicions had crossed his wife’s mind as well.

  “The Augurs are the leaders and guides of the Liberated,” said Arliach. “We have had many different forms of government since the Liberated came to Owyllain – monarchs, republics, and elected councils of lords and wizards. The Unity makes such governments unnecessary. The Augurs are the closest to the Sylmarus, and they can use some of its power to glimpse the future.”

  “Such as the vision of the woman in flames,” said Calliande. “The vision that sent Kyralion to find us.”

  “Yes,” said Arliach. He hesitated a little. “There was some dissension among the Augurs over the vision, which was unusual. Most of the time they are in accord about the proper course of action, but…” Nilarion and several of the other gray elves looked at him. “But I should not speak of this now. The High Augur will speak of it with you if she wishes.”

  Magatai and Krastikon began questioning Arliach about the city’s defenses, and the gray elven wizard proved less reticent on that topic. The outer wall stood thirty feet high and fifteen feet thick, with northern and southern gates. The watch towers held siege engines, both ballistae and catapults, along with crews of gray elves trained to use the weapons. Twenty-five thousand gray elves lived within the city’s walls, with five thousand capable of wielding weapons and spells in defense of their people. Nearly all the gray elves had some magical ability, but only a few dedicated themselves to the study and mastery of magic as Arliach did.

  Based on the city’s size and the solemn looks the gray elves shared, Ridmark suspected that Cathair Caedyn had possessed a far larger population and more fighting men not all that long ago. Both Qazaldhar’s plague curse and the muridach attacks had taken a bitter toll on the gray elves.

  A short time later they climbed the slope to the gate. The doors of gleaming golden metal had swung open at their approach, and gray elven warriors watched from the ramparts overhead, armored in golden metal. Ridmark and the others walked through the gate and into a large square. It was a beautiful space, with three and four-story houses of white stone overlooking the square. A tree rose from a garden in the center of the square, covered in flowering blooms.

  A small crowd had gathered to watch the patrol return and, no doubt, to get a look at the newcomers. The gray elven women wore sleeveless robes of blue and gold and green, their features sharp and alien. The children wore blue tunics and leather sandals, their faces solemn as they gazed at the humans.

  On both the women and the children Ridmark saw the black veins of Qazaldhar’s plague curse.

  This was a city under siege. The gray elves were an alien kindred, but Ridmark recognized the signs. He saw the strain and fear in the faces of
the women and children, fear that didn’t come from just the plague curse. Every gray elven man Ridmark saw carried weapons and wore armor, and stacked against the walls were bundles of spears and quivers of arrows.

  Cathair Avamyr had been a ruin, grim and solemn and tragic.

  Cathair Caedyn had the air of a city waiting for its inevitable destruction.

  “They are all staring,” murmured Tamara.

  “That is because they are impressed by Magatai’s magnificence,” said Magatai.

  “They’re not staring at us,” said Tamlin. “They’re staring at Third.”

  He was right. The gray elves, every single one of them, men, women, and children alike, stared at Third. She shifted a little, her face calm, but Ridmark saw her tense the way she did in the final moment before a battle.

  “If the Unity links the gray elves,” said Calliande, “and the Augurs truly saw her in their vision, they might recognize her on sight.”

  “We should continue,” said Arliach. “Nilarion and I will escort you to the Court of the Sylmarus. Our soldiers and scouts will get some rest and return to their families.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Ridmark. “Please, lead the way.”

  The rest of the gray elven soldiers broke off, some of them walking to join the women and the children. Ridmark supposed at least some of the women and children would be reunited with their husbands and fathers and brothers. Arliach and Nilarion led the way across the square. A street opened on the other end, leading in a straight line towards the massive trunk of the Sylmarus in the center of the city.

  “You are the one.”

  Ridmark slowed as a gray elven woman approached them. She looked old, her hair turned to white, her sharp, alien features marked with faint lines. Age did not seem to lie as heavily upon the gray elves as it did upon humans, yet Ridmark had no doubt that this woman had seen centuries, perhaps even near the full millennia of life that came to the gray elves. She might have been older than Andomhaim itself.