Dragontiarna

by Jonathan Moeller

  Sir Erkan howled in fury and started another spell, blue fire playing down his sword. He lunged at Tyrcamber, and Tyrcamber dodged, the dark magic-infused blade shooting past his face. Tyrcamber thrust at Erkan and Kyathar’s tip skidded off Erkan’s wraith-armor. But the intensity of Kyathar’s flame melted the last of the wraith-armor, and the Knight of Blood was vulnerable. Tyrcamber’s next strike drove Kyathar through a gap in Erkan’s armor and into his chest, and the Knight of Blood fell with a gasp. Tyrcamber ripped the sword free and raised it for the kill, but the final black knight lunged at him. He had no choice but to jump back, Kyathar ringing in his hands as he parried.

  Blue fire twisted behind the black knight, and Third appeared out of nothingness, Storm and Inferno blazing in her hands. Storm found the gap in the knight’s shoulder plates, driving into his chest, and Inferno sank halfway into his neck. The Knight of Blood fell, and Tyrcamber whirled, casting the Shield spell to intercept whatever Erkan intended next.

  But the fight was over. Erkan lay slumped against the floor, shuddering, and his gray lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl of hate.

  “And here we are again,” said Tyrcamber, lifting Kyathar.

  “Don’t worry,” growled Erkan. “It will be the last time. You and the foolish lords of the Empire will all die when…”

  He shuddered and went limp, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Erkan had stopped breathing, but the Knights of Blood didn’t need to breathe, so it really didn’t matter. Tyrcamber prodded Erkan with Kyathar’s tip, but the knight did not respond. Tyrcamber had cut down Erkan, Knight of the Order of Blood, yet again.

  Rilmael hurried up the steps to the dais, wisps of smoke rising from his staff. “Is anyone hurt?”

  “No,” said Selene. “Whatever the Knights of Blood expected, I don’t they expected to deal with the likes of you.”

  “But they were preparing for something,” said Tyrcamber. “But what?”

  They stood in silence for a moment.

  “I don’t know,” said Rilmael. “But it is dangerous. We had best return to Sinderost and get men to search this ruin. Because whatever the Fallen Order is planning, we haven’t yet discovered it…”

  “Which means we are not ready to defend against it,” said Third.

  They left the ruin, returned to the surface, retrieved their horses, and rode for Sinderost. Tyrcamber’s mind turned over what they had discovered. The muridachs and the Fallen Order. The strange alchemical necromancy of the Embalmer. The mysterious reference to the obelisks, whatever the hell that was.

  What was the enemy planning?

  Tyrcamber suspected he would find out sooner than he might wish.

  ***

  Chapter 15: Prepare

  They gathered in the great hall of the Prince’s Palace to hear Morigna’s news.

  Moriah went to summon Archbishop Caelmark, and to Ridmark’s surprise, the archbishop came at once. He wouldn’t have thought Caelmark would heed the counsel of someone like Moriah, but the demands of war had a way of making unlikely allies.

  And the war was coming to Cintarra soon.

  Prince Tywall sat on the curule chair atop the dais, looking solemn and a little frightened. The untimely death of Tywall’s father, Ridmark thought, had been a serious blow to the realm of Andomhaim. He had known Prince Cadwall Gwyrdragon, and Prince Cadwall would have stopped the Scepter Bank and the Drakocenti from amassing so much power. He would not have allowed the nobles to enclose their land for sheep, and a stronger Cintarra would have been in a better position to fight off the Dragon Cult and the Heptarchy.

  And Prince Cadwall would have been able to protect his son from the rapaciousness of the Regency Council and the Scepter Bank.

  Thinking of that brought his own children to Ridmark’s mind, to what would happen to them if he and Calliande were killed in battle. Mara and Jager would look after them, or maybe Ridmark’s brother Tormark. Ridmark and Calliande did not hold wide lands as Tywall did, so there would not be a scramble to take control of Gareth the way the Regency Council had done to Tywall. Still, the thought of leaving his children without a father left Ridmark wondering what he was doing here, why he was risking his life.

  The answer came a few seconds later as Morigna continued speaking. The Heptarchy was coming, and all Andomhaim would be at risk.

  “The Heptarchy is ruled by seven urdmordar females who have presented themselves as goddesses to their subject nations,” said Morigna.

  She stood before the dais, leaning on her staff. There had been time for her to wash and eat before Caelmark was summoned and Tywall roused, but she still looked exhausted, dark circles beneath her green eyes.

  “Do these seven urdmordar cooperate?” said Caelmark. The archbishop stood to the right of the curule chair, solemn in his black robe.

  “To an extent,” said Morigna. “The seven do not share their true names with their subjects, but instead titles – the Visionary, the Crimson, the Azure, the Viridian, the Silence, the Famine, and the Fury.”

  “Charming titles,” said Moriah. She stood with Niall and Rufinius a short distance from the dais.

  “Each urdmordar has a temple dedicated to her,” said Morigna. “The Heptarchy is less of an empire and more of an array of vassal kingdoms and tribes ruled by the Seven Temples of the urdmordar. Each Temple holds sway over various vassal kings and tribes, and so long as the tribes and kings meet their quotas of soldiers, slaves, and tribute, they are mostly left in peace. But sometimes the seven urdmordar disagree, and since female urdmordar do not harm each other, they use their vassal states to make war and resolve their disagreements through battle.”

  “Like knights settling their disagreements through a game of chess instead of battle,” said Ridmark. “But a game with living pieces.”

  “Precisely so,” said Morigna. She took a long breath. “But when the urdmordar find a new opponent to conquer and enslave, they unite without squabbling.”

  “Like us,” said Calliande.

  Morigna nodded. “And Agravhask told them of Andomhaim.”

  “How did you come to spy upon the Heptarchy?” said Caelmark.

  “As Ridmark and Calliande might have told you, after the defeat of the Frostborn, the archmage Ardrhythain appointed me the Guardian of mankind against dark magic,” said Morigna. “After the battle of Cathair Animus and the defeat of the Sovereign, I saw a vision of a dark power from across the sea rising to strike at Andomhaim. I traveled through the Deeps until I came to a continent far to the south…and I saw that Agravhask was gathering the armies of the Heptarchy.”

  “This Agravhask,” said Caelmark. “He is like Merovech Valdraxis and Aeliana Carhaine? Another Herald of Ruin?”

  “Yes,” said Morigna. “But worse.”

  “How so?” said Caelmark.

  “I could only learn a little about him,” said Morigna. “He was from an orcish city called Mazulrast, and he became a soldier of the Temple of the Crimson. He was the most feared warrior and commander in the Heptarchy and won victory after victory. But then Mazulrast was destroyed, and Agravhask disappeared. During those years, he traveled through the Deeps to Urd Morlemoch, and he met the Warden and received the dark soulblade Shieldruin. Agravhask returned to the Heptarchy and told the seven urdmordar of Andomhaim. He convinced them to assemble a vast fleet and army to invade this realm.”

  Calliande frowned. “But the urdmordar are the enemies of the Warden. The Warden was the only dark elven prince to defeat them, though he trapped himself within Urd Morlemoch in the process. Why would they not kill Agravhask for his treachery?”

  “I doubt they know of it,” said Morigna. “Agravhask keeps Shieldruin in an enspelled scabbard that conceals its power. And Agravhask is cunning. I have never encountered anyone as cunning as him, or as possessed of as much dark wisdom. It is as if he can look at a man and read his heart. Such things are possible with magic, but he is not a wizard.”

  “You make him sound like King Solomon from the script
ures,” said Caelmark.

  Morigna gave him a sharp look. “Yes. Exactly right, my lord archbishop. But King Solomon was a man of peace, a man seduced by the lusts of the flesh. Agravhask is a man of the sword…and he has no weaknesses. None that I can see, at least. And he is coming. You must prepare.”

  “How far away is his fleet?” said Ridmark.

  “Two days at the least, six days at the most,” said Morigna. “The Heptarchy has already conquered the Isle of Kordain and use it as a base to support their conquest. My escape will likely have changed Agravhask’s plans.”

  “How many men and ships does he have?” said Caelmark.

  “At least three thousand ships, transports and warships both,” said Morigna, “and between fifty and sixty thousand fighting men.”

  Ridmark shared a look with Calliande. The assembled army of Andomhaim, once the warriors of Khaluusk and Rhaluusk arrived, would be around thirty to thirty-five thousand men. Between his allies and reinforcements, Merovech Valdraxis likely had between twenty-five to thirty thousand soldiers. Agravhask would have more warriors than both sides combined.

  And he might well cooperate with the Dragon Cult. Both Merovech and Agravhask were Heralds of Ruin, and the Warden likely would not allow his servants to fight each other.

  “They are planning to attack Cintarra?” said Caelmark.

  “Yes,” said Morigna. “It would make more sense to attack Tarlion or to land in Taliand or Arduran and establish a base there. But Agravhask is a Herald of Ruin, and the Warden has sent him to seize the Great Eye…”

  “And the Great Eye is under Cintarra,” said Calliande.

  Morigna nodded. “Agravhask’s justification to the priestesses is that Cintarra is the largest city in Andomhaim, its valley the most populated part of the realm. The most souls and subjects they can harvest for their false goddesses.”

  “What is their strategy for the attack?” said Ridmark.

  “Agravhask planned to split his fleet into thirds,” said Morigna. “A third would land a few miles west of Cintarra. Another third would land a few miles east of the city. Once they disembarked, the remaining warships would sail into the harbor and launch their assault. Almost certainly, the city would fall between the combined attack of the three parts of the Heptarchy army.”

  “Especially since the bulk of Andomhaim’s strength is gathered near Rhudlan,” said Ridmark. “By the time the High King managed to get his army turned around, Agravhask would already hold Cintarra against him.”

  “Against an army of such size,” said Caelmark, “we cannot hold Cintarra. Not with the forces the Crown Prince left to guard the city.”

  “Agravhask has more than just soldiers,” said Morigna. “The priestesses of the Seven Temples are all spiderlings, and each one of them is skilled with dark magic. The most powerful high priestesses would be a match for a minor dark elven lord. The Seven Temples also have the kyralf wizards, hybrids of dark elves and orcs created by the sorcery of the Visionary. They can wield powerful spells, and they specialize in battle magic.”

  “I have already sent a message to the Magistri with the High King and the Crown Prince,” said Calliande, “and received one in return. Arandar is turning the army and leaving a small force to hold Rhudlan. The host of Andomhaim will make a forced march to Cintarra to defend against the Heptarchy.”

  “The timing will be close,” said Caelmark. “A fast rider might make it from Rhudlan to Cintarra in three and a half days, but for tens of thousands of men and horses, it will be much harder.”

  “I wish I could have given more warning,” said Morigna.

  “You did give us warning,” said Ridmark. “The Heptarchy would likely have taken Cintarra already without your message to Accolon.”

  “Agravhask knew that I was there,” said Morigna with a weary shake of her head. “He was too cunning. I tried to kill him, for I know the devastation a Herald of Ruin could wreak upon Andomhaim. But I could never get close enough to him. He knew I was there, and he hunted for me. That was why I had to flee…”

  “Morigna,” said Calliande.

  “Nor could I send more than a few warnings,” said Morigna. “The priestesses were too vigilant. If I used the Sight for too long, they would almost certainly realize that I was there. I…”

  “Morigna,” said Calliande, a little louder this time.

  She blinked and fell silent, looking at Calliande.

  “You did all that you could,” said Calliande. “I understand. You always think there was something more you could have done, some other decision you could have made. But you did all that you could, and if you had not, the Heptarchy likely would have seized Cintarra in a sneak attack…or we would be totally unprepared for their assault now.” She sighed. “Believe me, I understand. I have spent much of my life wrestling with such doubts.”

  “Thank you,” said Morigna.

  “Tomorrow, when the power of my soulblade recovers, I will travel to Rhudlan and the High King,” said Ridmark. He took a deep breath. “With luck, we will return with the High King and the host of Andomhaim.”

  “It will be as God wills,” said Caelmark. “Prince Cadwall?”

  The boy took a deep breath and began to recite what sounded like a memorized speech. “I would be honored if you would be my guests for dinner this evening.”

  “We shall,” said Ridmark. Time was short, but it wasn’t as if he could use Oathshield’s power to return to Rhudlan until tomorrow anyway. “It would be our honor, lord Prince.”

  ###

  Later that evening, after the dinner was over, Niall and Rufinius walked with Moriah through the gardens of the Prince’s Palace.

  The sun was setting to the west, slipping beneath the battlements of the curtain wall. The gardens were in bloom, the air scented from the flowering bushes. Niall walked on Moriah’s right and Rufinius on her left. He felt oddly comfortable with them both, but perhaps it wasn’t surprising. They had all gone through the terrible fighting at Rhudlan and come out the other side alive. Ever since Castarium, Niall had come to understand that there was nothing like the bonds forged between those who survived a battle together.

  Perhaps that was the only reason he and Sir Ricatus hadn’t killed each other. Because when the swords were out and the arrows flew overhead, Ricatus Eborium was a good fighter to have on your side.

  “I’m very glad you’re both still alive,” said Moriah. She laughed a little and shook her head. “That sounds trite, doesn’t it? But I am glad.”

  “And I am glad you are well, my lady,” said Rufinius. “My father spoke most highly of you, and he is not a man who impresses easily.”

  “He is not,” said Moriah. She yawned. She looked as tired as Niall felt. “He’d be intolerable if he wasn’t as devoted to charity as he was. Probably he’s the only one who could rule Cintarra in Accolon’s stead.”

  “Aye,” said Niall. “Definitely better him than someone like Ricatus Eborium.”

  Moriah laughed. “I remember Sir Ricatus from Rhudlan, from that first meeting when Comes Lhanwyn was still alive.” She hesitated and glanced at Niall as if worried that mentioning Lhanwyn would upset him, but he was past that. “Sour-faced old miser, isn’t he? He looks like he tried to swallow an entire lemon whole.”

  “He did lose all his lands and his sheep,” said Rufinius.

  “Which he had enclosed,” said Niall. “Though I suppose they’re Merovech’s sheep now. Maybe they’ll kick him in the head and end the war for us.”

  Moriah blinked and burst out laughing. Rufinius looked at her and grinned. The expression seemed out of place on the Swordbearer’s grim face.

  “I don’t know why that was funny,” said Moriah. “But it was. The war ended by a disgruntled sheep.” She sighed and rubbed her face. “God, I’m tired. I’ve been awake for two days. It was good seeing you both, but I really need to get some sleep.”

  “We will likely see you tomorrow,” said Rufinius. “I suspect Lord Ridmark will leave Si
r Niall and myself here in Cintarra to assist my father in preparing the city’s defense.” Niall hoped that Lord Ridmark would take Ricatus back with him to the army.

  They paused at the base of one of the keep’s towers.

  “Good.” Moriah opened the door. “I’ll find the treacherous nobles, and you two can arrest them for the archbishop.” She grinned at them. “Good night, my lords.”

  “Good night, Lady Moriah,” said Niall, and Rufinius echoed him. Moriah disappeared into the tower and closed the door behind her.

  For a moment, Rufinius and Niall stood in silence outside the door.

  “It was good to see her again,” said Rufinius.

  “Yes,” said Niall. “We wouldn’t have held Rhudlan without her.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t stand her when we first met, but…she is very brave.”

  “I agree, sir,” said Rufinius. “She possesses many virtues.”

  “Yes,” said Niall again.

  “And she is very lovely,” said Rufinius.

  Niall hesitated. “I cannot disagree.”

  “Sir Niall, you have been a worthy companion in many battles,” said Rufinius. “And though we come from different backgrounds, I feel we understand one another. A nobleman’s bastard and the son of a freeholder are both out of place in many ways.”

  “Aye,” said Niall. “But…if I can speak bluntly, you have always been a good captain and knight.” He shrugged. “I am new to knighthood, but yours is a good example to follow.”

  “Thank you,” said Rufinius. “Because of our friendship, I should say this openly. I intend to pay court to Lady Moriah once the war is over, and I hope that will not offend you.”

  Niall hesitated. “I…uh…why would that offend me?”

  “Is it not obvious?” said Rufinius. “She is a beautiful woman, and you are a man with eyes. And I admit I have seen you looking at her. But I would like to pay court to Lady Moriah, and I would not want us to become rivals over a woman.”