Sevenfold sword necroman.., p.30
Sevenfold Sword_Necromancer, page 30
A wave of exhaustion flooded through Calliande, but she pushed it aside and thrust her staff towards Khurazalin, throwing a burst of white fire at him. Kalussa had already weakened his wards with the Staff of Blades, and perhaps Calliande could batter them the rest of the way down. Her spell drilled into Khurazalin, knocking the Maledictus further back, and then Khurazalin vanished. Calliande looked to the side as Qazaldhar disappeared as well.
“Where did they go?” said Kalussa, sweat glittering on her face
“I don’t know,” said Calliande, sweeping the Sight through the courtyard. She saw Ridmark deflect another attack from Taerdyn, saw her husband stumble with weariness, though Oathshield dissipated Taerdyn’s lethal necromancy. He needed help, and Calliande’s initial impulse was to rush to his aid or to throw her full power at the Necromancer. Yet even if she hit Taerdyn with every scrap of power she could muster, it still wouldn’t overcome his strange healing spells.
And Khurazalin and Qazaldhar were nearly as dangerous as the Necromancer, and the two Maledicti worked together with deadly harmony.
A flicker of dark magic drew her Sight.
“There!” said Calliande, looking up.
The Maledicti had reappeared hundreds of feet above the battle, standing atop the Nine Pillars. Khurazalin and Qazaldhar began new spells, and Calliande drew in her own magic, preparing to work yet another ward to block their attack.
Except they weren’t aiming at her this time.
###
Tamlin parried the slash of a bronze sword, and the undead warrior’s blade shattered against the Sword of Earth. The undead felt neither fear nor pain nor exhaustion, but even one of the Bronze Dead could still suffer a loss of balance, and the undead warrior stumbled as its sword splintered. Before the creature could recover, Tamlin sidestepped and swung the Sword of Earth. The blade sliced through the undead warrior as easily as if it had been made of mist, and the creature collapsed in a pile of bones and worn bronze armor.
Two more took its place. Tamlin fell back, bracing himself for their attack.
A lightning bolt cracked across his vision and struck the undead creature on the left. The warrior stumbled, and Tamlin seized the opening. The Sword of Earth sliced the creature in half, and Tamlin leaped over the clattering bones and attacked the second Bronze Dead. His blade shattered the bronze sword, and he dispatched the undead warrior with a flick of his wrist that sent the Sword of Earth slicing through the yellowed spine.
Tamlin straightened up and recovered his balance, and risked a quick look around the battlefield. White fire flared behind the Nine Columns, and he saw that Calliande and Kalussa had joined the fight. Kyralion and Third fought side-by-side, carving their way through the fray to reach Ridmark’s side. Theseus, Aegeus, and Tirdua ran towards Tamlin, and he caught Tirdua’s mismatched eyes through the battle, and she smiled at him, her face illuminated in the silvery light from the magic crackling around her hands.
Even amid the chaos around them, she looked so beautiful.
Then the light on her face changed.
Tamlin’s gaze snapped up, and he saw Khurazalin and Qazaldhar standing atop of two of the great pillars. Qazaldhar cast a spell and sent a sphere of rippling green mist hurtling towards Calliande and Kalussa. The Keeper struck the end of her staff against the ground, her face tight with strain and concentration, and a ward of shimmering white light appeared around her and Kalussa. The plague magic shattered against the ward and winked out of existence. Khurazalin kept casting his spell, a sphere of flame whirling between his fingers. He was about to throw the spell at Calliande.
But at the last instant, he twisted.
“Look out!” shouted Tamlin.
Aegeus laughed. “Time for a proper fight, my friend! Let’s…”
“Look out!” screamed Tamlin.
The sphere hurtled down from Khurazalin’s fingers and landed about three inches in front of Theseus.
The spell erupted in a blast of elemental flame, and the explosion was close enough that it knocked Tamlin from his feet and sent him sprawling with a clatter of armor. The heat rolled over him, hot and intense enough that his face stung with it. Frantic, Tamlin scrambled to his feet as the flames winked out.
It was too late.
Theseus and Aegeus lay dead on the smoking ground, their corpses had burned so badly that Tamlin could only identify them by the dwarven axe that still rested in the blackened claw that had been Aegeus’s hand. The rivets in Theseus’s armor had melted and sunk into his flesh even as the leather had been incinerated.
Tirdua lay twitching a few yards away from her adoptive father and Tamlin’s best friend. He staggered towards her and saw that she was still alive, but only barely. Hideous burns covered the right side of her body, and the stench of burned flesh filled his nostrils as he bent over her.
Her eyes, silver and blue, met his, filled with pain and confusion.
Suddenly he was back in Urd Maelwyn, watching her die for the first time.
“No,” said Tamlin, “we’ll get Calliande, she can heal you yet, it…”
Her uninjured hand seized his, and clarity filled her eyes.
“Tamlin,” she whispered. “Husband.”
Tamlin stared at her, his heart ripping in half.
“Find me again,” said Tirdua. “The New God is coming.”
A final breath escaped her lips. Her limp hand slipped from Tamlin’s grasp, and her sightless eyes gazed at the sky.
Tamlin screamed.
Chapter 21: Wrath of the Necromancer
The light from the explosion cleared, and Ridmark loosed a furious curse.
He wasn’t sure, but he thought that the flames had killed Theseus and Aegeus, and probably Tirdua and Tamlin as well. All four of them had disappeared in the light of Khurazalin’s fireball, and they had no protection from the elemental magic. And if Khurazalin and Qazaldhar perched themselves on top of the Nine Pillars and rained destruction onto the courtyard, the battle would be over in short order.
Ridmark had to end this fight now. If they did not overpower or disable Taerdyn soon, they were going to lose.
“Calem!” shouted Ridmark, cutting down another undead warrior.
The young knight stepped back, the Sword of Air raised before him in guard. “Lord Ridmark?” He half-croaked, half-panted the words. Like Ridmark, he had taken a half a dozen minor wounds.
“We need to get to Taerdyn, now!” said Ridmark. He parried a bronze blade, shoved, and knocked the creature back. Calem finished it off with a slash of his silver sword. “If…”
There was a flash of fire, and Ridmark feared that Khurazalin had thrown another fiery blast into the battle. But the flames danced around Kyralion’s bronze sword, and he and Third fought their way to Ridmark’s side.
“Theseus and Aegeus are dead,” said Third, her face grimmer than usual as she cut down an undead warrior. “Tirdua and Tamlin likely are as well.”
“Lady Calliande and Lady Kalussa are battling the Maledicti,” said Kyralion. Calem shot a quick, concerned look in their direction, and then turned his attention back to the Bronze Dead. “They will not be able to aid us.”
“Calem,” said Ridmark. The young knight looked at him. “Get to Taerdyn and attack him.”
“As you wish,” said Calem, “but I will not last long against the Necromancer.”
“You won’t need to,” said Ridmark. “I have an idea. Taerdyn summoned the Bronze Dead to aid him, and they came at his call. If you attack him, they might forget about us and rush to their master’s aid. With luck, we can punch through the Bronze Dead and get to the Necromancer.”
Calem was already moving before the last word had left Ridmark’s mouth. He sprinted forward, the Sword of Air flashing as he drew on its lesser powers. Calem cut down two of the Bronze Dead and then leaped into the air, the Sword’s power hurtling him forward. As he jumped, he used his wraithcloak to become insubstantial, the power of the leap carrying him further than it would have otherwise.
He landed a dozen yards from Taerdyn, becoming solid once more as he charged.
The Necromancer reacted at once, shadow and blue fire leaping from his free hand. Calem twisted around the attack with fluid speed and struck, and the Sword of Air clanged against the Sword of Death. Taerdyn retreated with a snarl, and Calem’s next attack darted through the Necromancer’s guard and slashed across his chest. At once red light flowed across Taerdyn’s gray skin, healing the wound.
But as one, every single undead warrior in the courtyard turned to stare at Taerdyn, and rushed to their master’s side, converging on Calem.
“Go!” shouted Ridmark.
He sprinted forward, hammering down every undead warrior in his path, Third on his right side and Kyralion on his left. He and Third fought as they had so often before, with Third stunning and tripping the undead, and Ridmark finishing them off with Oathshield. Kyralion inserted himself into their usual pattern with admirable skill, his burning sword stunning the undead long enough for Ridmark to strike.
They burst through the Bronze Dead, Calem and Taerdyn dueling before them.
Ridmark, Third, and Kyralion sprinted forward, and Ridmark stabbed, Oathshield biting into Taerdyn’s chest. The Necromancer screamed and slashed with the Sword of Death, and Ridmark parried the deadly weapon against his soulblade. For an instant, the Necromancer’s full attention was on him, and the others struck. Third’s short swords stabbed into Taerdyn’s back, and Kyralion’s blade sank into his right leg. Calem slashed, and the Sword of Air opened Taerdyn’s torso, and the stench of rotting blood and corrupted flesh filled Ridmark’s nostrils.
Taerdyn howled again, and invisible force exploded from him, knocking Ridmark and the others and a hundred of the Bronze Dead to the ground. Again, the bloody light rolled over Taerdyn, healing the wounds they had carved into his flesh, and the Necromancer thrust the Sword of Death over his head, the blade crawling with blue fire.
“To me!” he thundered. “To me!”
The ground shook, and several of the courtyard’s flagstones exploded in sprays of broken earth.
###
Krastikon fought a few paces away from Kalussa, which she supposed had saved his life.
When Theseus, Kyralion, Third, Aegeus, and Krastikon had charged into the Bronze Dead, Krastikon had been pinned in place, unable to force his way through the enemy. He had fallen black, shielding Kalussa and Calliande from the Bronze Dead as they struggled against the two Maledicti.
When Theseus, Tirdua, Aegeus, and Tamlin had vanished in the harsh glare of Khurazalin’s inferno, Krastikon had not been there to die with them.
The sweat burned Kalussa’s eyes as she cast spell after spell. That was sweat stinging her eyes. Not tears. Certainly not. She was of the blood of Arthur Pendragon, and she would not weep for her slain friends during a battle.
That would come later.
If there would even be a later.
Khurazalin and Qazaldhar flicked back and forth across the tops of the Nine Pillars, reappearing and disappearing next to the statues of the great Kings of Trojas of old. Kalussa and Calliande attacked with blasts of white fire from the Keeper’s staff and spheres of glittering crystal from the Staff of Blades. They never managed to land a telling blow on the Maledicti, but they did at least keep the two sorcerers from turning their powers against Ridmark and the others battling the Necromancer and the Bronze Dead.
But how much longer could they do this?
Kalussa felt exhaustion creeping into the edges of her mind, felt her arms shake as she held the Staff of Blades. Qazaldhar was undead and therefore could not become tired, but even Khurazalin showed no signs of exhaustion. If the Necromancer could heal any damage they did to him, then he need only wear them down and kill them as Khurazalin had killed poor Aegeus and the others.
Krastikon bellowed and swung his hammer, striking down another of the Bronze Dead. His face had gone pale beneath a glittering coat of sweat, his gray eyes wide and sharp, his armor and cloak spattered with blood. He had taken several minor hits that Calliande could have healed with ease, but the Keeper dared not turn her attention from the Maledicti. The Bronze Dead swarmed towards Krastikon, and Kalussa sent crystal spheres hurtling into them when she could, but she could spare no more than a few seconds of her concentration from Khurazalin and Qazaldhar.
Then a ripple went through the Bronze Dead attacking Krastikon, and Tamlin Thunderbolt fell upon them like a storm.
Kalussa had always known that Tamlin was a good swordsman, but now he fought like a man possessed, pure skill fused to wrath-fueled strength. The Sword of Earth left the Bronze Dead in scattered pieces in his wake, the blade slicing through bronze and bone and mummified flesh with ease. Then Tamlin was clear of the undead, and he stood before them.
“Keeper,” he said, his voice a rasp.
Kalussa met his eyes and flinched. She had never seen Tamlin like this. Gone was all trace of the smiling, courtly, womanizing knight she had first met in Aenesium. His gray eyes looked like ice and were almost mad in their intensity.
“Tamlin,” said Calliande. “Theseus and Aegeus. Are they…”
“Dead, both of them,” said Tamlin. “And Tirdua. Khurazalin killed her. Again.”
“Oh, God,” said Kalussa. She had seen what Tysia’s death had done to him, and Tirdua and Tysia had somehow been the same woman. To see her die again at the hand of Khurazalin…
“I’m sorry, Tamlin,” said Calliande, her voice shaking with strain, “and…get behind me!”
Kalussa’s gaze snapped up in time to see fire explode from the hands of Khurazalin, blazing towards them like a comet. Calliande raised her staff and thrust it before her, and again her half-dome of shimmering white light appeared. The blast of elemental fire struck the shield, and Calliande rocked back a step with a pained grunt. But the shield held against Khurazalin’s wrath, and Kalussa attacked, sending a sphere of crystal infused with the magic of the Well hurtling towards the Maledictus.
But once again Khurazalin traveled away before her sphere struck home.
“Damn it,” snapped Calliande. “If we can’t pin him in place like we did in Aenesium, he’ll just keep traveling back and forth until he kills us all.”
“Don’t worry, my lady,” said Tamlin, raising the Sword of Earth. “One way or another, Khurazalin is not getting away this time.”
He ran for the pillars.
“Tamlin,” said Calliande. “Tamlin!”
The crack of multiple explosions rang out from the other side of the pillars.
###
Ridmark caught his balance as Taerdyn retreated, the Sword of Death coming up in guard. His first thought was that Taerdyn was about to rip apart the courtyard as he had destroyed half the King’s Chamber, that the entire Blue Castra was about to fall into ruin.
But only eight patches of the courtyard had been torn open, looking like empty graves in a churchyard.
And even as the thought crossed Ridmark’s mind, dark shapes rose from the pits.
There were eight of them, and they looked like giant skeletons draped in ragged, torn black robes. Ghostly blue flames blazed in their empty eye sockets, and currents of blue fire flowed over their bones, replacing the long-vanished veins and ligaments. Each skeleton held a wooden staff topped with a bronze scythe blade. The floating undead looked like the traditional image of death as a hooded, skeletal reaper who harvested the rich and the poor alike.
The men of Trojas had all mentioned the Necromancer’s cruel sense of humor. Perhaps it had pleased Taerdyn to create undead creatures in the image of death itself.
And what was worse, the things could fly.
The reapers soared into the air, wings of shadow and blue fire fluttering behind them. As one, the reapers drew back their arms and hurled their scythes.
The bladed weapons spun towards Ridmark and the others like disks.
###
Tamlin sprinted towards the base of the column, drawing the Sword of Earth back to strike.
All the grief had vanished from his mind, all his regret and fears. Rage had devoured everything.
He didn’t care about the Dark Lady. He didn’t care about the Seven Swords. He didn’t even care if Taerdyn had spoken the truth, that the Sword of Earth could free his mother. He didn’t care about his oath to King Hektor. He did not care about winning this battle.
All that mattered was killing Khurazalin for what he had done.
Tamlin ran at the base of Khurazalin’s column and swung. The Sword of Earth sank into the thick stone with ease, and Tamlin went into a frenzy, hacking again and again. The blade bit into the column, stone chips flying from his blows. The column wobbled, and Tamlin bared his teeth and kept hacking, ignoring the pain in his arms.
Something snapped within the column, and it started to tilt forward.
###
Ridmark reacted on instinct, slashing Oathshield before him.
His aim was true, and his soulblade intercepted the whirling scythe before it hit his face. Oathshield struck the wooden shaft with a flash of white fire, and the scythe tumbled away. The others dodged and ducked as they could. Calem was not quite fast enough, and he yelped in pain as the edge of a whirling blade cut his arm.
The scythes kept spinning, and they returned to the grasp of the floating reapers.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” muttered Ridmark.
The reapers drew back their arms to throw again, and Taerdyn cast a spell, blue fire whirling around his free hand. Ridmark caught the attack on his soulblade in a spray of blue sparks. As he did, the floating reapers threw their scythed weapons again, and Ridmark twisted, Oathshield snapping right and left as he tried to dodge and block the weapons.
