Sevenfold Sword: Unity

by Jonathan Moeller

  It wasn’t moving fast. But it was already crawling up the hill, and in another few moments, it would reach the gates. Even as Ridmark looked, light and shadow snarled around the ram, encasing it in a dome of twisting blue light and darkness.

  “They’ve warded it,” said Calliande, blinking as she used the Sight. “And stronger than before.” She shook her head. “That siege ramp was a test, I think. To make sure we couldn’t penetrate the warding spells. Now that they know we can’t breach that spell, they’re going to throw the ram against the gates.”

  “If we use the catapults, perhaps, in a coordinated barrage,” said Rhomathar, “we might be able to overcome the spell…”

  Calliande shook her head. “The spell is strong enough to withstand it. If we throw any magic at it, it will reflect the spells back at us. If I try to use the mantle of the Keeper to break the spell, it will repair itself faster than I can do damage. There are too many muridach priests feeding power into the ward, and Qazaldhar’s skill is controlling the power. If I had a few hours, perhaps, I might be able to prepare something to shatter the ward, but I don’t.”

  And as Ridmark looked at the advancing ram, at the next wave of siege towers, he realized that Cathair Caedyn and the gray elves only had a few hours left.

  Ridmark knew in his bones that this was the attack that was going to break Cathair Caedyn’s defense.

  “We do not have enough soldiers left to man the walls and to stop a breach in the gates,” said Rhomathar. “The wall was the only thing that kept the muridachs from bringing their full numbers to bear against us. Once the gate is breached…”

  “We should focus on destroying as many of the siege towers as we can,” said Ridmark. “If we can keep most of the muridachs away from the walls, perhaps you can concentrate your soldiers in the northern square and hold the gate.”

  Even as he said it, he realized how unlikely that was.

  “And it might be wise,” said Calliande in a soft voice, “to prepare to flee the city. Or to have the women and children flee through the southern gate while we fight on the northern wall.”

  “But the muridach host surrounds the city entirely,” said Rhomathar. “We cannot break through.”

  “Some might,” said Calliande. “Because if they stay inside the walls, they’re going to die.”

  “It hardly matters,” said Athadira. “The Sylmarus is the heart of the Unity, and once the Maledictus of Death enters the city, he will finish his evil work and destroy the Sylmarus. The Unity will be shattered, and any gray elves who survive shall be broken wanderers. No. If the Liberated are to be overcome, it will be here.”

  Ridmark wanted to argue, but he didn’t see the point. The odds of any gray elves getting past the muridach horde were slim to none. A few, perhaps? Maybe a handful. Perhaps they would live with hope for a few moments longer before they died.

  As he had told Calliande, the battle wasn’t over until it was over. Qazaldhar and Nerzamdrathus might yet make a mistake. If they did, the gray elves could turn the tide of the battle.

  But the Maledictus and the Great King had not yet made any mistakes. They had tied a noose around Cathair Caedyn, and they were squeezing it tighter. Tens of thousands of muridachs had fallen in battle, but that hardly mattered. Nerzamdrathus could replace them twenty times over.

  There seemed no way to stop the muridach horde.

  ###

  Third gazed at the approaching ram and siege towers, a cold sense of inevitability falling over her.

  This, it seemed, was the end.

  She saw no way to stop it. Third supposed if she got out of the city and away from the influence of the Seven Swords, she could use her power to travel and try to assassinate the Great King or the Maledictus of Death, but she doubted that even she could do it. The Throne Guards surrounded the Great King, along with the muridach priests, and Third did not think she could defeat one of the Maledicti on her own.

  Or she could use her power to escape the Illicaeryn Jungle entirely.

  No. Third would not abandon her friends. Mara and Arandar had sent her to find the Shield Knight and the Keeper. Third would not return to Andomhaim to tell them how she had abandoned her friends to their fate.

  And death did not daunt her. Hadn’t there been long centuries where she had yearned for death? Centuries where the only thing that she wanted more than death was to kill her father?

  No. If this was where God ordained for her to die, and then she would die well, with a ring of muridach corpses around her before she fell.

  She looked at Kyralion and felt a stab of regret. Which was strange, because she knew he was in love with Rilmeira, that he had only been drawn to her because Rilmeira was unavailable. Kyralion started to turn towards Third.

  And then he stopped.

  Third looked around, wondering what had caught his attention.

  Except he stayed motionless.

  And the siege towers and the ram had stopped. Had the muridachs given up? That didn’t make any sense. If they stopped there, the catapults would take the towers apart.

  Third looked to the defenders to see how they had reacted.

  They, too, had gone motionless.

  Third stared at them in confusion, and then she saw the light.

  She raised her hands.

  The veins were glowing with blue fire beneath her skin. They did that when she used her power to travel several times in rapid succession, when she drew on the fiery song that filled her blood, the song that had taken the place of the Traveler’s will. She heard her song now, loud and strong, rising within her like a storm.

  She also heard the song of the Sylmarus. Her mind interpreted the mighty tree’s aura as a song of infinite beauty and terrible sadness, stronger than any dark elven lord’s aura. It was powerful, but it was sick, and it was dying. The song had been in her mind constantly for the last few days of battle, and she had grown so used to its presence that she had forgotten it was there.

  But she heard it now. Suddenly she couldn’t think of anything else.

  Third turned and stared at the Sylmarus.

  The gentle green glow of the veins drew her attention, and she stared at them, staring past the branches, past the tumorous black growths, past the crumbling bark, to the light at the heart of the ancient tree.

  The song swelled in her thoughts, and the notes melded together, becoming…

  Words.

  LOST CHILD.

  The song thundered through her head.

  “What?” said Third, astonished.

  LOST CHILD.

  “I am not a child,” said Third, baffled. “I have not been a child for a very long time.”

  BY THE MEASURE OF THE HUMANS YOU ARE ANCIENT. BUT I AM AS OLD AS THIS WORLD.

  The strange voice sounded so weary. A mountain that had seen epochs come and go might sound that way if it could speak.

  “I suppose all the gray elves must seem as children to you,” said Third.

  I SAW THIS MOMENT IN THE TAPESTRY OF TIME. I SAW YOUR BIRTH FORETOLD. YOUR MOTHER, A SLAVE. YOUR FATHER, A DARK ELVEN LORD. I SAW YOUR PATH WOULD BRING YOU HERE, TO THIS MOMENT WHEN THE GRAY ELVES ARE ABOUT TO DIE. YOU WOULD BE THE WOMAN OF FLAMES, AND YOU WOULD STAND AT THIS JUNCTION IN TIME.

  “Then help them,” said Third. “If you are so powerful, then help them.”

  I CANNOT. I JOINED THE LIBERATED TO ME, AND THEY ARE BOUND TO MY AURA. THE MALEDICTUS HAS POISONED ME, AND I CANNOT FIGHT THE CONTAGION. IT SPREADS THROUGH ME, AND WHEN IT KILLS ME, THEY TO SHALL DIE. THAT IS WHY WE ARE ONLY SPEAKING NOW. IT HAS TAKEN ME THIS LONG TO GATHER THE STRENGTH.

  Third frowned. “If it made the gray elves so vulnerable, then why did you let them create the Unity?”

  BECAUSE I TOOK PITY ON THEM.

  Third blinked.

  Pity…

  Forgiveness. A conversation about forgiveness flickered at the edge of her memory, but she could not quite recall it.

  “Why?” said Third.

  YOU DO NOT UND
ERSTAND? YOU CROSSED HALF THE WORLD TO FIND YOUR FRIENDS.

  “They were my friends,” said Third. “I owed them. I would still be an urdhracos without Ridmark. You owed the gray elves nothing.”

  THEN YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS TO TAKE PITY ON THE PAIN OF ANOTHER?

  “Likely not,” said Third. Another half-forgotten memory tugged at her mind. Something about pity… “But if you cannot help the gray elves, why are we having this exceedingly strange conversation?”

  I CANNOT HELP THEM. YOU CAN.

  “How?” said Third. “How can I possibly help them? I am just one woman. I can kill a thousand muridachs, fight until a ring of the slain lies at my feet, and it will still make no difference to the outcome.”

  YOU ARE UNIQUE.

  “Perhaps,” said Third, “but I am still just one woman.”

  YOU AND YOUR SISTER ARE UNIQUE. IN ALL THE LONG HISTORY OF THIS WORLD, IN ALL THE HISTORY OF THE ELVES, THERE HAVE NEVER BEEN DARK ELVEN HYBRIDS WHO HAVE NOT BEEN SLAVES. YOUR SISTER WAS THE FIRST, AND YOU WERE THE SECOND. YOU ALONE CAN SAVE THE GRAY ELVES, LOST CHILD.

  “Then tell me how,” said Third. “Who must I defeat?”

  YOURSELF.

  “That does not make any sense,” said Third. “Do you mean I need to face myself, the dark elven half of my blood? I did that nine years ago.”

  NOW YOU MUST FACE YOUR ENTIRE SELF.

  “Once again, that fails to make any sense,” said Third.

  ONLY BY SAVING YOURSELF CAN YOU SAVE OR DESTROY THE UNITY. YOU MUST FACE YOURSELF. YOU MUST FACE WHAT YOU HATE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF. ONLY BY FACING THE SHADOW INSIDE YOURSELF CAN YOU ACT.

  Third hesitated. This didn’t make any sense at all, and the battle was about to begin. She didn’t have time to waste in riddling talk with a giant tree. Ridmark and the others needed her help.

  And yet…

  They were going to lose the battle, weren’t they?

  That giant damned ram was going to smash the gates, and the muridachs would swarm into the city and annihilate the gray elves. The Sylmarus would likely die as well. Qazaldhar would go out of his way to destroy the ancient tree. If Third fought alongside Ridmark when the battle began, he would die, she would die, and everyone else would die.

  If there was a chance, even the slightest chance, that she had a way to alter the outcome of the battle, she had no choice but to take it.

  Third said a brief prayer in the silence of her mind. She did not pray often. Brother Caius had told her that the Dominus Christus forgave all sins. But Third wondered if her soul, tainted by dark elven blood and centuries of murder, was something she wanted to bring to the attention of God.

  “What must I do?” said Third.

  COME TO ME IN THE HEART OF THE CITY. YOU WILL THEN SEE WHAT YOU MUST DO.

  The song grew fainter, and the world exploded back into motion around her. The siege towers and the great ram continued their slow advance. The defenders rushed to their positions on the walls. Calliande and the Augurs were discussing how best to use their spells to take down as many of the siege towers as possible. Third caught her breath, her heart racing in her chest.

  Ridmark was staring at her.

  He would have noticed if something was amiss. He knew her too well.

  “Are you all right?” said Ridmark in a low voice.

  “No,” said Third. “No. I…do not know how to explain it. But I think the Sylmarus has summoned me. I do not know why.”

  “Is it anything I can help you with?” said Ridmark.

  Third hesitated. “No. I do not know what it is. But I think I need to go alone.”

  Ridmark nodded. “We’ll wait for you here, then.” He tried to smile. “I’ll save you a muridach or three.”

  Third was gripped by the sudden overwhelming feeling that she would never see him again.

  “Maybe even four,” said Third. “I will return as soon as I can.”

  “Good luck,” said Ridmark.

  Third took a deep breath, nodded, and left the ramparts before anyone noticed. She crossed through the square and headed for the street leading to the Court of the Sylmarus. The great tree filled her vision, and its song seemed to be somehow summoning her…

  “Third!”

  It was Kyralion’s voice.

  She turned and saw Kyralion and Rilmeira running towards her.

  “I have to do this,” said Third. “I do not know why, I do not understand why, but…”

  “I know,” said Kyralion.

  “The Sylmarus spoke to me,” said Rilmeira, her voice filled with wonder. “Through the Unity. It was as if time froze around me, and the Sylmarus spoke directly to me. It…it said I had to take Kyralion with me at once, that we had to accompany you. Or…or…”

  “Or,” said Kyralion, voice grim, “that you would die, and the Liberated would perish soon after.”

  “I do not understand what is happening,” said Third, “but let us find out together.”

  Kyralion nodded, and the three of them walked down Cathair Caedyn’s central street and came to the Court of the Sylmarus.

  Third stepped off the flagstones and onto the grass, gazing up at the massive trunk of the Sylmarus. The Court was deserted, with all the gray elves either on the walls, attending to their duties elsewhere, or sitting in their homes and waiting for the end. The green glow beneath the bark held Third’s attention, and the Sylmarus’s song grew louder in her thoughts, more compelling.

  She walked across the grass, past the gnarled roots thicker than a house, and headed for the base of the tree.

  “Lady Third?” said Rilmeira, but she and Kyralion followed her.

  At last, Third stopped at the foot of the tree, the green light flickering and dancing beneath the trunk. Driven by some suggestion of the song, she reached out and touched the bark. It felt warm beneath her hand, almost feverish.

  And then it shivered beneath her fingers.

  A hole appeared in the tree, opening like an iris, and expanded into a tunnel that led into the depths of the Sylmarus, glowing with a gentle green light.

  “I never knew that was there,” said Rilmeira, her voice stunned.

  “Nor did I,” said Kyralion.

  The song pulsed in Third’s head, inviting her onward.

  “I do not think it existed until just now,” said Third. She looked at the two gray elves. “If you desire to turn back…”

  “No,” said Kyralion. “You are the woman of flames from the Augurs’ vision. I brought you here. This is my responsibility. And if Lord Amruthyr was right, then I must come with you.”

  “I will come with you,” said Rilmeira. She looked at Kyralion. “This…this might be the end of all of us. If we are going to die, I want to do it standing at your side.” She looked at Third as if pleading for permission. “Please. I…I need to do this.”

  Third nodded. “Then let us see the end of this.”

  She took a deep breath and walked into the tunnel, Kyralion and Rilmeira following her.

  Chapter 17: Ruin

  The drums boomed over the city, growing louder as the siege towers and the ram drew closer.

  And with them came the muridach host.

  Calliande watched as the siege camps emptied, tens of thousands of muridach warriors forming up at the bottom of the hill. Their plan was obvious enough. The siege towers would reach the wall, and the muridach shock troops would hold the defenders in place. Then the ram would reach the gate and tear it open.

  And once it did, the muridach horde would charge into Cathair Caedyn.

  Calliande, Kalussa, and Tamara unleashed their magic, focusing their powers on the siege towers. As before, Calliande and Tamara used spells of elemental earth, turning the ground to mud and unbalancing the towers. In short order, they sent two towers tumbling down the slope, smashing to pieces as they rolled. Kalussa hurled volleys of crystalline spheres at the towers, blasting their wheels into splinters. With the full might of the muridach priests and the Maledictus of Death shielding the huge
ram, the Augurs were free to turn their magic against the towers. They called blasts of magical lightning that splintered the towers like trees, or firestorms that consumed both the timbers of the towers and the undead muridachs pushing them. It helped that there were so many dead muridachs and so much wreckage left over from the previous assaults. The towers had to take a careful path, weaving their way around the smashed debris of earlier attacks.

  Calliande and the others wiped out half of the towers before they reached the walls.

  But the other half came to the ramparts nonetheless, lowering their bronze ramps onto the battlements with a crash.

  And still the ram crawled ever closer to the wall.

  ###

  Ridmark charged into the fray, Oathshield drawn back to strike.

  Tamlin, Calem, Krastikon, and Magatai followed him into the fighting. He keenly missed the presence of Third. Ridmark could always rely on her, and they had fought alongside each other so many times that they knew what the other was thinking without the need for speech.

  He hoped the Sylmarus had a good reason for summoning her.

  Ridmark also missed Kyralion’s presence. The gray elf was an unfailingly accurate archer.

  And there were no shortage of targets pouring from the siege towers.

  A mob of muridach berserkers leaped from the nearest tower, swarming down the ramp and charging into the waiting gray elves. The golden steel of the gray elves clanged against the bronze axes of the muridachs, and in the initial crash of combat, Ridmark saw four muridach berserkers and two gray elven swordsmen fall, dead before they hit the ground.