Ridmark nodded. He shouldn’t have expected anything else.
“Perhaps the Maledicti already disarmed the traps when they prepared their attack here,” said Tamara.
“Doubtful, Tamara Earthcaller,” said Magatai. “The Maledicti floated a few inches above the ground, you will recall. No doubt they left any fiendish mechanical devices armed to kill us. Were they not his mortal enemies and sorcerers of evil, Magatai would admire their cleverness.”
“We’ll have to be careful,” said Ridmark. “Third, Kyralion, stay close to me. Third has the best eyes of any of us, and Kyralion will be familiar with how the builders of this place would have thought. Magatai, Tamara, stay behind us. If you see anything that looks strange, anything at all, let me know at once. Magatai, please try not to shoot us in the back.”
Magatai let out a booming laugh. “Do not fear, Shield Knight! Magatai’s arrows fly where Magatai wishes them to fly, and nowhere else!”
“Glad to hear it,” said Ridmark. “Let’s go.”
He led the way across the grand hall, his eyes sweeping the floor and the ceiling for any sign of traps. Ridmark had explored and survived the ruins of the dvargir and the dark elves and the dwarves in Andomhaim, and perhaps the only thing that all three of those kindreds held in common was a love of fortifying their underground strongholds with deadly mechanical traps. Though if Cathair Selenias had fallen to the Sovereign’s hordes and become the Tower of Nightmares, perhaps the mechanical traps had been destroyed or disabled. On the other hand, the Maledicti might have gone to the trouble to rearm or repair those traps. A hostile knight would have challenged Ridmark to his face, but the Maledicti would be just as happy to kill him in a trap or simply shoot him in the back with an arrow.
But they reached the corridor without incident, and Ridmark led the way forward, Third at his right and Kyralion at his left, Tamara and Magatai bringing up the back. More reliefs covered the walls, showing scenes of the gray elves triumphing over armies of orcs and jotunmiri. Ridmark felt a strange pang as he glanced at the carvings. The reliefs all looked so…hopeful, so triumphant.
It was a stark contrast to what had actually happened to the gray elves.
He glanced over the reliefs and the floor, looking for the telltale signs of mechanical traps, but saw none. Instead, he saw a golden glow shining at the end of the corridor. His first thought was that sunlight was leaking through damage in the ceiling, but the golden light was too harsh for that.
It was also pulsing, much in the same way that the bloody glow from Taerdyn’s corrupted heart had pulsed.
“Any idea what that is?” murmured Ridmark to Kyralion.
The gray elf shook his head.
“I do not know,” said Antenora. “But the aura of power around the Tower strengthens considerably there.”
“Be ready,” said Ridmark.
The corridor ended, and they entered another pillared hall like the first one, the same style of reliefs upon the walls.
But there were several differences.
The first was the mist. It swirled and writhed in a layer across the floor, rising high enough to reach Ridmark’s knees. He stooped and waved a hand through the mist, but he felt nothing. Ridmark took a careful step forward, and the mist retreated from him in a circle about a yard across, as if Oathshield was exerting pressure on it.
The second thing he noticed was the veins.
Veins of golden light covered the pillars, the walls, and much of the arched ceiling. They were translucent and hazy, and Ridmark saw the white stone behind them. The veins pulsed as with the beat of an invisible heart, growing brighter as they expanded and dimmer as they shrank, the process repeating over and over again.
They stood in silence, taking in the strange sight.
“Lord Ridmark?” said Tamara. “You said we were to tell you if we saw something strange.” She took a deep breath. “I think see something strange.”
“Aye, I think we all do,” said Ridmark, sweeping his gaze around the hall so Antenora could see the glowing veins. “Antenora?”
“I…confess I do not know,” said Antenora. The voice in his head sounded baffled and intrigued at the same time. “Those veins are somehow empowering the dream spell, but I have never seen magic like this before. Could you place Oathshield against one of the veins and see what happens?”
Ridmark complied, stepping to the wall and tapping Oathshield’s blade against a vein of golden light as thick as his arm. The light shivered, and the nearest veins pulled away from Oathshield, just as the mist seemed to retreat from the soulblade. When Ridmark stepped away and lifted Oathshield, the veins returned to their original position.
“Fascinating,” said Antenora. “Oathshield disrupted the veins, but they rebuilt themselves as soon as you removed your weapon. I had hoped we could disrupt the spells with your soulblade, but that appears unfeasible.”
Ridmark nodded. “You can’t kill a beast by scratching at its veins. You have to strike at the heart. What do you make of this mist?”
“It is akin to the mist that washed over the town,” said Tamara, taking a few steps into it. The mist rippled over her boots, seeming to writhe with agitation.
“She is correct,” said Antenora. “It is the very essence of the oneiromantic spell, and it is potent.” She paused. “If the five of you were not immune to the effect, I believe you would be overwhelmed by powerful nightmares. Likely they would be so powerful that your hearts would stop from fear.”
“A useful defense,” said Ridmark.
“And it may be dangerous,” said Antenora. “The spell is so powerful that the line between dreams and reality may become blurred.”
“What does that mean?” said Ridmark.
“The mist might not be able to invade your minds,” said Antenora, “but I think it is reacting to your presence like a pond reacts when a pebble is dropped into it. The oneiromantic spell is strong enough that images from your past might manifest in temporary physical forms and attack.”
Even as she spoke, the mist filling the chamber rippled, and currents rolled through it. The currents flowed together, and a dozen pillars of mist rose from the floor.
“Lord Ridmark,” said Tamara, gesturing as she cast the spell to sense the presence of magical forces. “The mist is doing something, but I’m not sure what. I think it’s…”
“Manifesting,” said Ridmark. “Defend yourselves!”
The pillars of mist hardened and congealed and became forms from a nightmare.
Unfortunately, the nightmare was something that Ridmark had experienced in the waking world.
The pillars of mist had become the abscondamni, the Accursed of the Sovereign. They looked like orcs that had been flayed alive, their bodies red and glistening, the white tusks stark against the skinless muscle of their faces. Black tumors dotted the bloody, dripping flesh. These abscondamni also had black claws jutting from their fingertips, serrated and twisted and no doubt razor sharp.
“God and the saints!” said Tamara.
“They’re abscondamni,” said Ridmark, lifting Oathshield. “Don’t let them touch you. Their flesh is acidic. Third, with me. Go!”
He sprinted forward, raising Oathshield, and the dozen Accursed closed on Ridmark. Third disappeared in a pulse of blue flame and reappeared behind one of the abscondamni on the left. Her swords flashed as she hamstrung the creature, and Ridmark surged forward, whipping Oathshield around with all the soulblade’s magic driving his blow. His soulblade took off the twisted creature’s head, and he sidestepped, pivoted, and drove Oathshield home into the chest of a second abscondamnius.
By then, the others had reacted. Kyralion began sending arrows at the abscondamni, using the magic of his bow to set them aflame. The acidic slime that covered the creatures was flammable, and the abscondamni went up like torches beneath his burning arrows, allowing Third to finish them off. Magatai screamed a war cry and went on the attack, using his relatively low height and excellent agility to stay ahea
d of the enemy’s grasp. Tamara could not make the floor ripple and twist down here since that might make the ceiling collapse. Instead, she conjured pillars of acidic mist that washed over the abscondamni. Ridmark was not sure what effect that would have, but her mist reacted violently with the acidic slime coating the creatures, causing them to burst into snarling blue flames.
Another of the Accursed sprang at Ridmark, slashing with black claws. He dodged and lopped off the creature’s hands with a quick hack of Oathshield. The Accursed’s mouth yawned in a silent scream, and Ridmark finished it off with a slash across the throat. It tried to close with him as it fell, using its maimed arms like clubs, and Ridmark dodged out of the way just in time to meet the attack of another abscondamni. Covered in acidic slime, the abscondamni fought with little skill, attempting to close and grapple with their victims. The slime usually made that a lethal tactic, but the trick was to stay ahead of them and limit their mobility. Ridmark slashed Oathshield, the soulblade slicing across the back of the abscondamnius’s leg and severing the muscles there. The creature stumbled, its momentum taking it too far, and Ridmark swung his sword again, burying the blade in the creature’s neck.
The abscondamnius fell, and Ridmark stepped back and raised Oathshield, looking for another opponent.
But all the abscondamni were down, the mist washing over their bodies. Even as Ridmark looked, the creatures dissolved into mist and drifted away, leaving no trace that they had ever been there.
“Everyone all right?” said Ridmark, but it looked as if his companions had avoided any serious wounds. Though Ridmark had taken a few minor burns on his hands from the droplets of acidic mist flung by the abscondamni. Alas, the burns did not seem likely to dissolve into mist as the abscondamni had.
“It would appear so,” said Third.
“Those creatures…were they even real?” said Tamara. “They vanished as soon as we killed them.”
“No,” said Antenora in Ridmark’s head. “They were not real, but the oneiromantic spell is powerful enough to give dreams the semblance of reality. They were real enough to inflict mortal wounds had you not fought back. Likely the mist will pluck memories from your thoughts and manifest them into foes.”
“Antenora says not,” said Ridmark. “But it doesn’t matter. The magic here makes them real enough to kill.”
“Likely the dream creatures will become stronger the closer you draw to the source of magical power,” said Antenora.
Somehow Ridmark had expected that.
“Which way to the source?” said Ridmark. “Mhazhama said she and the Maledictus of Shadows would wait for us at the Heart of the Nightmare, whatever that is. I would assume it is the source of power for the spell.”
“Most probably,” said Antenora, “although it may be something else.” She paused. “Continue through that corridor on the far side of this hall. I will guide you as best I can, and warn you should I see any magical traps. But you will have to remain on guard against any mechanical traps…and the mist might manifest more creatures at any moment.”
“Yes,” said Ridmark. He looked back at the others. “The corridor ahead seems to lead to the source of power for the spell. Keep an eye out for mechanical traps, and also keep an eye on that damned mist. Antenora thinks it might manifest more enemies at any time.”
Magatai nodded. “This place reminds Magatai of Cathair Avamyr. But worse.”
“You survived Cathair Avamyr,” said Ridmark. “With luck, you’ll survive the Tower of Nightmares as well. This way.”
###
The mist created three more bands of enemies in the next twenty minutes, and Tamara threw her spells into the fray as the others fought.
The first group was a pack of four urvaalgs, and the sight of the twisted creatures sent a chill of fear down Tamara’s spine. Lone urvaalgs had attacked the farms around Kalimnos twice in the last ten years, and both times Sir Rion had fought the urvaalgs since his spells were the only weapons in the town that could harm a creature of dark magic. The second time the urvaalg had shredded his leg, and it had been months before he could walk again.
But Ridmark and the others were equal to the challenge, and the burning power of his soulblade could kill an urvaalg with a single blow. Third’s swords of dark elven steel could wound the urvaalgs, as could Kyralion’s bow and sword. Tamara’s magic confused and slowed the creatures, and together they overcame the urvaalgs.
The second attack was a band of a dozen kobolds, the short, sleek, lizard-like creatures armed with bows and spears. Tamara recognized them on sight. Kobolds had come out of the Deeps to raid the farms several times, and she had fought and killed them before. Together they made short work of the gray-scaled creatures and continued deeper into the pale stone maze of the Tower of Nightmares.
She didn’t recognize the third group of creatures. They were huge, gray-furred things that looked like bears that walked as men, though they wore heavy armor and carried swords and axes and maces. Red light glazed their eyes, and spittle flew from their fangs. The battle was short but fierce, with Ridmark and Third attacking together, Kyralion and Magatai loosing arrows, and Tamara using her magic to stun the hulking creatures.
“Let’s rest a moment,” said Ridmark as the final bear-thing dissolved back into mist. “It will do us no good if we’re winded when we find the Maledicti.”
“Aye,” said Tamara, blinking sweat from her eyes. “Those creatures. What were they? I’ve never seen anything like them before.”
“Medvarth,” said Ridmark. Sweat glittered on his face, and Tamara thought he looked tired. “The Frostborn used them as foot soldiers. Bigger and stronger than humans, and they like to fight. There are still tribes of them in the Northerland, and when the snow falls, they go raiding.”
“Frostborn?” said Tamara. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“That is a blessing,” said Ridmark. “I sometimes wish I had never heard of them.”
He and Third shared a look, and Tamara suspected that they knew each other well enough to communicate at length without speaking.
Which wasn’t surprising, given how well the two of them fought alongside each other.
Both the Shield Knight and Third were absolute terrors in battle. Some part of Tamara’s mind had entertained lingering doubts about Calliande’s story. Could one man have really played such a significant part in defeating Justin Cyros and the Necromancer? Yet after watching Ridmark fight, after watching that burning sword of his lop the head from a medvarth warrior, she believed it.
Third was no less formidable. Even without her power to travel, she moved with the speed of a struthian and struck with the power of a hammer, her blue swords carving wound after wound into the flesh of her foes. And Kyralion…Magatai was a superb archer, but Kyralion was just as skilled, and between the two of them they had stopped both a group of kobolds and a pair of medvarth from reaching Tamara as she worked her spells.
Perhaps it was the mercy of God that Kalimnos had such powerful defenders in its time of need.
She only hoped that they did not fail. The thought of her father and brothers dying while locked in the dream as a distressing one.
And Tamara was surprised at how much the thought of Tamlin dying bothered her.
“Another five minutes, I think,” said Ridmark, and Third nodded. He took a drink from the waterskin he had slung from his belt. “Then we’ll keep going.”
“What if the foe manifests more monsters from the mist?” said Magatai.
“Then we’ll fight them right here,” said Ridmark. He tilted his head to the side, frowning. Likely he was listening to Antenora’s voice. “Antenora thinks she’ll be able to give us a moment of warning if it does. Evidently, the magical aura surges or pulses right before it happens.” Tamara glanced at the golden veins covering the pillars and the walls of the lofty hall. “Either way, we’ll have at least a little warning.”
“Is it strange to take counsel from the voice of a distant sorceress in your head?�
�� said Magatai.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. He snorted. “But it’s not even the strangest thing I’ve ever done.”
“I have a question if you do not mind,” said Tamara.
Ridmark nodded, stretching. “I suppose you have many questions. Maybe I can answer at least one of them.”
“Your sword is called Oathshield,” said Tamara. “Why? It’s a sword, not a shield.”
“I didn’t pick the name,” said Ridmark. “The high elven archmage Ardrhythain forged it for me, and he named it. I suppose he gave it that name because it has powers a regular soulblade does not, and it is the sword of the Shield Knight.”
Tamara felt her eyes widen. “Then there are other swords of such power in Andomhaim?”
“Over a thousand of them,” said Ridmark.
“I always thought the urdmordar destroyed Andomhaim in ancient days,” said Tamara. “That was why High King Connmar fled here and founded Owyllain. Though I suppose if there are a thousand such knights of your power in Andomhaim…that explains how your land resisted the urdmordar.”
Ridmark nodded. “And the Mhorites, the dvargir, the Mhalekites, the Frostborn, and a host of other foes. Though the Frostborn were the most dangerous by far. The purpose of the knights of the Order of the Soulblade is to defend Andomhaim from creatures of dark magic. From things like the urvaalgs, and from sorcerers like the Maledicti.” He shook his head. “If there had been Swordbearers in Owyllain, the war against the Sovereign wouldn’t have lasted five centuries.”
“You said you were the Shield Knight of Andomhaim,” said Tamara, her curiosity increasing despite the danger. “What does that mean?”
“I think,” said Ridmark, “that Ardrhythain intended the Shield Knight to defend the Keeper of Andomhaim. To be her shield. Which was convenient, since I was already married to her.” He tapped the glowing white crystal in the pommel of his sword. “Most soulblades have one soulstone in the tang of the blade. Oathshield has two. The second soulstone holds the power of the Shield Knight. When I draw upon it, the power manifests as a suit of plate armor that’s impervious to nearly anything. It also makes me much faster and stronger.”
Sevenfold Sword: Shadow Page 24