Sevenfold Sword: Unity

by Jonathan Moeller

  “It was a great victory,” said Seruna. “The Maledictus Qazaldhar caused great harm to the Liberated. To see him brought low was justice indeed.”

  “You are welcome to stay as long as you wish,” said Rilmeira. She looked at Third. “All of you. For without you, the Liberated would have been destroyed, and Qazaldhar would have turned the muridach horde towards your homelands.”

  Third inclined her head in a slight nod.

  “But you traveled with us long enough,” said Ridmark, “to know the urgency of our mission. We have to speak with Cathala. She might have the knowledge we need to stop the Kratomachar and the Maledicti. For that matter, we have three of the Seven Swords. If we stay here with the Swords, that might put Cathair Caedyn in danger.”

  “I understand,” said Kyralion, “and we shall give you all the supplies and equipment that we can. Is there anything you would ask of us? If not for you and Lady Third and the others, Cathair Caedyn would now be ashes, and the Liberated would be extinct.”

  “There is only one boon I would ask of you,” said Ridmark. “And it is the same thing that I asked of the Windcallers and the Tumaks of the Takai.”

  Kyralion inclined his head in understanding.

  “But what boon is that, Shield Knight?” said Rilmeira.

  “We must be ready,” said Kyralion, “to march when the hour comes.”

  “Yes,” said Ridmark. “The Kratomachar is coming. You’ve seen that firsthand. Qazaldhar leveled the plague curse on you in the name of the New God, and he brought the muridach host here in the name of the New God.”

  “You speak wisdom, Shield Knight,” said Seruna. “I fear Qazaldhar’s crimes against us were intended to sweep the Liberated from the path of the Kratomachar. We opposed the Sovereign for fifteen thousand years,” her mouth twisted, “though not with overwhelming success. Perhaps the Maledictus of Death feared that we would hinder the Kratomachar, and so sought to destroy us before his New God could arise.”

  “I agree,” said Ridmark. “The war of the Seven Swords raged for twenty-five years, and in the past two months, Justin Cyros and the Necromancer have fallen, and we have found the bearer of the Sword of Air. One way or another, the war is approaching its end. I fear the Maledicti will try to summon the New God, and if we are to stop them, we shall need every ally we can find.”

  “The Liberated will come,” said Kyralion. “When the Shield Knight and the Keeper call, the Liberated will come.” He smiled. “For the Shield Knight and the Keeper brought the woman of flames to us, and she was the one who saved us.”

  “And because of that,” said Rilmeira, “we wish to give you a gift.”

  Third blinked. “Me?”

  “Yes,” said Rilmeira. “You, my lady Third. You who remade the Unity and who cleansed the Sylmarus of its plague curse.”

  Third shook her head. “I have no need of boons or gifts.”

  Kyralion smiled. “No, but you do like swords.”

  Third blinked again. “Swords?”

  Rilmeira turned as another gray elven woman approached, holding a bundle wrapped in gray cloth.

  “The war with first the Sovereign and then the muridachs raged for so long,” said Kyralion, “that we have more weapons stored than we have hands to wield them. We wish you to have these.” Rilmeira took the bundle and stepped towards Third. “You will put them to good use.”

  Rilmeira unwrapped the bundle, and Ridmark saw that the gray cloth was a cloak identical to the one that he and the gray elves wore. Rilmeira took the cloak and swirled it around Third’s shoulders, pinning it in place with a small brooch of golden metal. Inside the bundled cloak was a sword belt wrapped around two scabbarded longswords of gray elven steel.

  “Those weapons are enspelled,” said Calliande.

  Third shook her head. “This is generous, but I cannot use an enspelled blade. A soulstone would block my ability to travel.”

  “Yes,” said Kyralion, “which is why neither of those blades uses soulstones. Those weapons were unique in our armory.”

  “Several centuries ago,” said Seruna, “a dwarven scholar named Irizidur visited Cathair Caedyn.”

  Ridmark saw Calliande stiffen. “A dwarven scholar?”

  “Aye, Keeper,” said Seruna. “He was a wanderer, seeking lost secrets, though he would not tell us what he sought.”

  Ridmark shared a look with Calliande. The Seven Swords were of dwarven design and had been forged of adamant steel, an alloy known only to the master smiths of the dwarves. But there were no dwarves in Owyllain, and Ridmark had not heard the slightest scrap of evidence that there had ever been any dwarves in this land.

  Until now.

  “What happened to Irizidur?” said Ridmark.

  “It is not known to anyone within the Unity,” said Seruna. “He departed Cathair Caedyn and was never again seen by any elf of the Liberated. But before he departed, he forged these weapons as a gift for us, in gratitude for our hospitality. My Queen?”

  Rilmeira drew one of the swords, and Ridmark saw that the golden steel had been carved with dwarven glyphs. The Queen’s brow furrowed with concentration, and the sword burst into snarling elemental flame. She dismissed the flames, sheathed the sword, and drew the second weapon. It was identical to the first, save that the dwarven glyphs glowed with a blue-white glow instead of a sullen orange-red one. Rilmeira concentrated again, and the blade shimmered with crackling elemental lightning.

  “We hope you will accept these,” said Rilmeira.

  “You lost both of your swords fighting in defense of the Liberated,” said Kyralion. “It seems only just that we supply you with replacements.”

  Third hesitated and glanced in Ridmark’s direction.

  “The cloak suits you,” he said.

  “I accept this gift,” said Third. “Thank you.” She took the sword belt, buckled it around her chest like a baldric, and hooked the scabbards to her back. “It is a kingly gift.”

  “Which, since you are a king now, seems only suitable,” said Tamlin.

  “Indeed,” said Kyralion. “Once again, we thank you all. For as long as you shall live, you will be welcome at Cathair Caedyn.”

  “We shall remember that,” said Ridmark. “And now…”

  “But before you go, Lord Ridmark,” said Seruna, “the Sylmarus has something for you.”

  “The Sylmarus?” said Ridmark.

  “Aye,” said Seruna. “Kyralion suggested it. Look down.”

  Ridmark followed the suggestion. He stood near one of the thick roots of the mighty tree, and as he looked, a patch of the bark shivered. A twig emerged from the root, which thickened into a stick, which rose higher until it was about his own height.

  There was a snapping sound, and the long, straight branch fell from the root.

  Ridmark reacted on instinct and caught the branch as it fell.

  The staff thumped into his hand. It was rough-looking, rather like Calliande’s staff, but seemed to adhere to his palm as if the weapon had been made for his grip. Ridmark stepped back, testing the weapon’s weight. It seemed perfectly balanced, suited for both swings and thrusts.

  “A stick?” said Magatai, baffled. “What warrior fights with a stick?”

  Tamlin laughed. “You might be surprised.”

  “You seemed annoyed when the fire drakes burned your bamboo staff,” said Kyralion, “so this seemed a suitable replacement.”

  “It is enspelled,” said Calliande, gazing at the staff. “At least as strongly as Third’s swords.”

  “It is,” said Seruna. “It will wound and slay creatures of dark magic. Something, Shield Knight, that I imagine you will find most useful. Additionally, it has another useful property. Throw the staff upon the ground.”

  Ridmark nodded and tossed the staff away.

  “Now concentrate,” said Seruna, “and call it back to your hand.”

  Ridmark frowned, shrugged, and held out his hand, thinking about the staff.

  To his surprise, it leaped f
rom the ground and landed in his outstretched hand.

  “The staff is now linked to you,” said Seruna. “Only you may wield it, and it will obey only your hand. It is not alive as your soulblade is, but it will nonetheless be a potent weapon. May it serve you well.”

  “I am certain that it shall,” said Ridmark. “Thank you, King Kyralion.” He smiled. “It is indeed a kingly gift.”

  “Farewell, my friends,” said Kyralion, and he smiled back. “I would like to go with you, but my duties lie here. And I suspect we shall see each other again when all kingdoms and all nations must face the New God or perish...”

  “Wait!” said Magatai, stepping forward. “Friend Kyralion, Magatai is still carrying your sword. It would be grievous to depart with it.”

  “I hope you will accept the sword as a gift,” said Kyralion. “For you used it well indeed. It is always difficult to throw a sword, but you pinned Qazaldhar into place. Had you not done so, he would have escaped to work his evil elsewhere. And you helped avenge all the gray elves slain at the hands of his sorcery.” He grinned, one of the few times Ridmark had seen him do that. “Besides, think of the tale you can tell when you return to your tribe with a sword that wounded both the Maledictus of Fire and the Maledictus of Death.”

  “Magatai had not considered that,” Magatai said. “Yes, Magatai will carry your sword, and do many valiant deeds with it.”

  ###

  A half-hour later they crossed the damaged northern gate and headed towards the Illicaeryn Jungle.

  Ridmark glanced back at the others. Calliande walked next to him, green cloak streaming from her shoulders, her golden armor glinting in the sun. Third followed her, expression calm, the hilts of her new swords rising over her shoulders. Kalussa walked with Calliande, the Staff of Blades in hand. Behind her came Tamara and Tamlin, and both of them kept smiling at each other. Magatai rode atop Northwind, and Krastikon and Calem brought up the back.

  “Three,” announced Magatai.

  “Eh?” said Krastikon.

  “Magatai has now fought three of the seven Maledicti,” said Magatai. “The Maledicti of Air and Shadows at the Tower of Nightmares, and now the Maledictus of Death.”

  “Aye.” Krastikon tapped the pommel of the Sword of Death. “Hopefully we won’t see him again.”

  “Now we must seek out the remaining four Maledicti immediately,” said Magatai.

  Krastikon let out an incredulous laugh. “You are mad, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t worry, Prince Krastikon,” said Ridmark. “We don’t have to seek anyone out. I suspect the Maledicti will come to us.”

  Against all odds, they had survived the siege of Cathair Caedyn and won a crushing victory over the muridachs and the Maledicti. But the siege had only been a skirmish in a far larger war, and the New God was still coming.

  And Cathala might know the secret to stopping the New God.

  “Then we shall be ready to smite them,” said Magatai.

  “Indeed,” said Ridmark. “And we might find the answers we need at the Monastery of St. James.”

  “Assuming our journey is not interrupted yet again,” said Tamlin.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Tamara, and she grinned at him. “Some interruptions are more enjoyable than others.”

  Ridmark wondered what that meant, and decided that it wasn’t any of his business.

  “Onward, then,” said Ridmark, and he led the way north, staff in hand.

  Epilogue: Maledicti

  Night fell over the crumbling ruins of the Monastery of St. James.

  It had once been a strong castra, a fortress where monks could conduct the work of God in peace, but the power of the Sword of Earth in Justin Cyros’s hand had proven stronger. The gate had been smashed to rubble, breaches torn in the curtain wall. The buildings were empty stone shells, gutted by long-quenched fires, and weeds forced their way through the gaps in the flagstones of the courtyard.

  The Maledictus of Shadows glided through the gloom of the courtyard, making his way towards the broken doors of the central keep.

  No one, save for the other Maledicti and their master the Masked One, knew that he was here. Nor would anyone know that he was here. Thanks to the power the New God had granted him, anyone who observed the Maledictus of Shadows would fail to see him. Anyone who had the strength of will to perceive him would immediately forget that he was there.

  Even the mighty Sight of the Keeper of Andomhaim could not find the Maledictus of Shadows when he did not wish to be found.

  Of course, that had done him little good at Kalimnos.

  Just as Qazaldhar’s blood sorcery had failed at Cathair Caedyn.

  The Shield Knight and the Keeper had hindered the Maledicti again and again, and they threatened the advent of the New God. Even worse, they might be able to realize the truth, the ultimate secret at the heart of the Seven Swords. That, the Masked One could never allow, so he had dispatched the Maledicti to deal with his foes.

  And they had failed, again and again.

  Fortunately, the answer was at hand.

  The Maledictus of Shadows gazed at the woman who would destroy the Shield Knight and the Keeper.

  A statue of white stone stood before the steps to the keep, her hands outstretched, her face tight with concentration. Before Justin Cyros had turned her to stone, Cathala of the Order of the Arcanii had been a striking woman, at least by the standards of humans. Her hair had been a long mass of reddish-gold, her eyes like jade, her skin fair and clear, her body shapely and strong. Cathala had been fully aware of her beauty, and she had employed it as a weapon, drawing men to her like moths to a flame and using them to further her purposes.

  Then she had seduced Justin Cyros. Which had been a mistake, since it had led to her current predicament. She had been ambitious, and she had been beautiful…but, alas, her intelligence hadn’t quite been enough to match the reach of her ambition.

  Would she learn the lesson of her previous failures?

  The Maledictus of Shadows very much doubted it.

  And that would be the key to undoing the Shield Knight and the Keeper.

  They were too powerful to confront directly, and previous attempts had not ended well. But that was all right. In life, the Maledictus of Shadows had been an orcish man, and he had relished battle and violence as most orcish men did. In undeath, he knew better. What use was a strong sword arm when the mind controlling it grew weak? What use was courage when it could be eaten out from the inside?

  The power of the Sword of Shadows gave the Maledictus the skill to cast whatever shadows he wished into the minds of his foes.

  And when he did, his enemies destroyed each other, heedless of his presence.

  The Maledictus of Shadows waited, wrapped in his gray robes.

  Soon the Shield Knight and the Keeper would arrive and free Cathala, and when they did, their doom would be at hand.

  Cathala wouldn’t destroy them.

  Thanks to the Maledictus of Shadows, Cathala would ensure that the Shield Knight and his friends destroyed each other.

  ###

  In the heart of the Sovereign’s Durance, within the Tyrathstone hidden within the depths of Urd Maelwyn, Morigna paced back and forth within her imprisoning circle of dark elven menhirs.

  She supposed if she paced long enough, she might wear a tunnel through the earth. But that would take thousands of years, and while that length of time did not daunt a Guardian and a spirit, her duties did not have that kind of time to spare.

  Ridmark and Calliande did not have that time to spare.

  Not with the Maledicti coming for them again.

  She had seen Irizidur again today, the mad dwarf wandering through the mist-choked forest and lamenting his mistakes in multiple languages. Morigna was not terribly sympathetic. Partly because his lamentations were growing tedious, and partly because they were accurate.

  And she had to deal with the consequences of Irizidur’s mistakes.

  But she had contacted
the Scythe, and she had contacted Third, and Third had done what was needed.

  Maybe Morigna could reach Third again, or perhaps the Scythe.

  She had no other choice. Ridmark and Calliande had to be warned.

  Morigna gathered her power and got to work.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading SEVENFOLD SWORD: UNITY!

  But there are more adventures to come for Ridmark and Calliande in SEVENFOLD SWORD: SORCERESS, the next book in the series coming in summer 2018.

  If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review at your ebook site of choice. To receive immediate notification of new releases, sign up for my newsletter, or watch for news on my Facebook page.

  Other books by the author

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