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  Kyralion thought about that for a moment and then nodded. Like his bows, the movement was a stiff, mechanical gesture, like something he had learned to do from a book. “That is not surprising. Of necessity, we are reclusive.”

  “Do you know of Rhodruthain of Cathair Animus?” said Calliande.

  A grimace went over Kyralion’s face. “I have not met him, but he is known to me. He is not part of the Unity, and he has abandoned my kindred to our fate. He abandoned us even before the Sovereign drove us into the Illicaeryn Jungle and the Unity was founded. The Augurs could tell you more, I think, if they choose to do so.”

  Calliande nodded, unsurprised. It seemed that Rhodruthain was well-known throughout Owyllain, and it also appeared that the Guardian was not well-loved. Calliande could understand that.

  “Before coming to Owyllain,” said Ridmark, “we never met the gray elves before. I have spoken with high elves and fought dark elves, but not gray elves.”

  Kyralion made that odd, mechanical nod again. “That is not surprising. The humans of Owyllain call us the gray elves, but we call ourselves the Liberated. For while we are not bound by the threefold law of the high elves, neither do we serve the shadow of the void as the dark elves do.” A flicker of anxiety went over his face. “I will be pleased to answer any questions you might have, though you will find my answers unsatisfactory, but we must address our business first.”

  “What business is that?” said Ridmark.

  “The Augurs sent me to speak with the Shield Knight and the Keeper for two reasons,” said Kyralion. “The first is this. I must warn you of impending danger. Death clad in white is coming for you.”

  Calliande had a dozen questions to ask in response to that, but Ridmark asked the most relevant one.

  “When?” said Ridmark.

  “Soon,” said Kyralion. “The Augurs said danger would come for you cloaked in white the moment I met you. It…”

  Magical power blazed before Calliande’s Sight.

  “Ridmark!” she said, looking around.

  Ridmark took a quick step to put himself in front of her. But the gray elf hadn’t reached for either of his weapons, and he hadn’t moved.

  No, the surge of power was coming from above.

  And it was identical to the pulses of magical power she had felt earlier but far stronger.

  Calliande looked up and saw a figure in a white cloak perched on the edge of the church’s dome, one hand grasping the stonework, the other holding a silver sword that blazed with magical power.

  The white-cloaked figure leaped from the top of the church, silver sword aimed at Ridmark.

  ***

  Chapter 2: The Sword of Air

  Ridmark had already started drawing Oathshield, and that was the only thing that saved his life.

  The white-cloaked figure plummeted towards him like a meteor, the silver sword shining in his fist. Ridmark yanked Oathshield from its scabbard and swept the sword before him, calling on the soulblade for strength and speed. He deflected the thrust that would have stabbed through his heart, and Oathshield’s speed let him avoid the white-cloaked man’s impact.

  His attacker landed on one knee before Ridmark, a landing that should have killed him, but the white-cloaked man only grimaced. The silver sword also sank into the stone stairs as if they had been made of water. The High King’s sword Excalibur had been able to cut through absolutely anything with little resistance, and so had the sword of the Dragon Knight.

  It seemed this strange silver sword possessed the same property.

  Ridmark slashed at the white-cloaked man, but his attacker jumped to his feet and dodged the blow. The leap also carried him through the air in a high arc, and he landed a third of the way across the agora, the silver sword raised in guard.

  Around Ridmark the others exploded into action. Calliande and Kalussa began casting spells, while Aegeus and Tamlin drew their swords. Sir Tramond drew his own blade, barking orders to his hoplites, and the old women who had come to gawk at Kyralion fled to the nearby streets.

  For his part, Kyralion moved with smooth efficiency, stringing his bow, setting an arrow to it, and drawing the weapon back. As he did, Ridmark glimpsed a rough crystal set into the center of the bow, a crystal that glimmered with harsh orange-yellow light.

  A soulstone.

  Kyralion sent an arrow hurtling towards the white-cloaked man, and the arrow burst into flames as it flew, powered by the bow’s magic.

  Yet it didn’t matter. The white-cloaked man moved in a blur, a swing of his sword sending the arrow in smoking pieces to the ground. Kalussa flung a bolt of yellow-orange fire at the white-cloaked man, and again he twisted, deflecting the fire against his sword.

  The others hesitated around Ridmark, and he got his first good look at the man in the white cloak.

  He was young. Tamlin’s age, maybe even younger. He had bright green eyes and thick black hair, his face an expressionless mask. Beneath the white cloak, he wore blue dark elven armor like Ridmark’s, with overlapping plates of blue steel covering his torso and hanging down to shield his upper legs. The silver sword hung loosely in his right hand, and fingers of lightning crawled up and down the blade. The sword’s pommel had been worked into a curious design, a design that seemed familiar.

  Then Ridmark remembered where he had seen that design before. An identical symbol had been on the pommel of the golden sword that Rhodruthain had carried at Tarlion, and most likely that sword had been the Sword of Life.

  Now that he was closer, Ridmark could see that the design on the pommel was a stylized, closed eye, and that…

  “God and the saints,” said Sir Tramond, his voice shaking. “That’s the Sword of Air.”

  “What?” said Tamlin. “Impossible.”

  “It is as powerful as the blade that Rhodruthain carried in Tarlion,” said Calliande, her voice grim.

  “It is the Sword of Air,” said Tramond. “I was with the army at Urd Maelwyn, and I saw the Swords taken from the Sovereign’s citadel. I was there when Talitha and Rhodruthain betrayed and murdered High King Kothlaric. I would recognize that accursed sword anywhere.”

  Ridmark said nothing, Oathshield shimmering with white fire in his hand. From what he had learned, Kothlaric Pendragon had found seven magical swords of tremendous power in Urd Maelwyn after the death of the Sovereign. He had taken those blades to Cathair Animus to have Rhodruthain destroy them, but the Master of the Order of the Arcanii and Rhodruthain had murdered Kothlaric and attempted to claim the Seven Swords for themselves. In the resultant chaos, six of the Seven Swords had been seized by lords and kings, and the Sword of Air had disappeared.

  And now a man holding the Sword of Air stood before Ridmark.

  That seemed like an implausible coincidence.

  For that matter, the Sovereign had been defeated nearly twenty-five years ago, and it was entirely possible the young man in the white cloak hadn’t even been born yet when the Seven Swords had been found.

  “Who are you?” called Ridmark. “Name yourself!”

  The man in the white cloak stirred, blinked, and his green eyes fell upon Ridmark. For a moment he looked confused, and then his eyes hardened.

  “My name is Calem,” said the young man, “and I am the bearer of the Sword of Air. You are the Shield Knight of Andomhaim? And the Keeper of Andomhaim stands beside you?”

  “That’s right,” said Ridmark. “Why did you attack us?”

  A hint of confusion went over Calem’s face, and then his expression hardened.

  “Your death has been decreed,” he said, “and I shall fulfill that decree.”

  He thrust his sword forward, and the blade erupted with a cone of snarling lightning that leaped across the agora towards Ridmark and the others.

  ###

  Calliande saw the power building within the silver Sword of Air, and she knew that Calem was going to attack.

  Her Sight flared in response to the power gathering within the Sword. It was a mighty weapon,
and it burned with tremendous magical strength. Calliande had been curious to know just how powerful the fabled Seven Swords really were.

  It seemed that the Swords were indeed as potent as the men of Owyllain had said.

  Yet she saw a great deal of other magic wrapped around Calem.

  There were multiple spells of dark magic upon him, vicious and potent. They sank into his flesh like daggers, and to Calliande’s Sight, it almost looked as if chains of dark magic had been driven through his flesh. She had never seen spells like that before and didn’t know what to make of them.

  But there was no time to worry about it now.

  Calem thrust the Sword of Air, and a cone of lightning leaped from the end of the blade. The Sword had unleashed a storm of elemental magic, enough to kill every man and woman in the agora.

  But Calliande was ready for it.

  She had been drawing together power for a spell, and she cast it now, shaping both the magic of the Well of Tarlion and the mantle of the Keeper into a powerful warding spell. A shimmering wall of translucent white light leaped from the end of her staff and spread before them.

  The cone of lightning slammed into the wall, and Calliande staggered. God, but that Sword was powerful! Her will shivered under the strain of the attack, but she had fought in countless magical battles, and she knew how to hold the spell in place. The lightning winked out, and Calliande released the spell.

  Calem lowered the Sword of Air, his expression still blank.

  “How did you do that?” said Tramond, shocked. “Nothing can resist the power of the Seven save for another of the Swords.”

  “I’ve had some practice,” said Calliande.

  “Very well,” said Calem, still calm. “Then we shall do this in the traditional fashion.”

  He strode forward, bringing up the Sword of Air. Kyralion shot two more arrows at him, and Kalussa hurled another bolt of fire. Calem deflected the arrows and the bolt of magical fire with his Sword, moving with uncanny speed.

  Ridmark strode to meet him, taking Oathshield’s hilt in both hands.

  Calem looked at him and gestured with the Sword.

  And suddenly the air in the agora changed.

  ###

  Tamlin drew his sword of dark elven steel, calling his magic to him as he prepared to fight the bearer of the Sword of Air.

  Then the air in the agora rippled.

  It was a peculiar sight. It looked exactly like the rippling air over sun-heated rocks, yet it was too early in the day for the stones of the agora to have gotten that hot. Around him, the hoplites grunted in pain, and Tamlin turned his head to see that both the hoplites and Sir Tramond looked as if they had been frozen.

  As if the air had turned to stone around them.

  The effect did not seem to touch Ridmark, who kept walking towards Calem. Calliande winced and stumbled a step, and cast a spell. The end of her staff glowed with harsh white light, and she straightened up, the pain fading from her expression.

  Tamlin took a step forward, his dark elven sword raised. Whatever had happened, it hadn’t seemed to touch him.

  He also saw that Kalussa was unaffected, blinking in bewilderment as flames curled around her fingers.

  “Lady Calliande?” said Kalussa. “What happened?”

  “The power of the Sword of Air,” said Calliande through gritted teeth. She started casting another spell, more white fire dancing around her staff. “You two must be unaffected because you’re Swordborn. Oathshield will protect Ridmark, and I can shield myself. Go! He’ll need your help against Calem.”

  Tamlin nodded and started forward, and Calliande cast a spell.

  White light flared, and Tamlin flinched as it wrapped around him. The light sank into his limbs, and Tamlin felt strength and speed surge through him. Calliande must have used her magic to make him faster and stronger.

  Tamlin could put that to use.

  He took a step forward and realized that he might not be able to survive the fight without that help.

  Calem surged forward, the Sword of Air in both hands, and Ridmark met his attack. Oathshield and the Sword of Air crossed a half-dozen times in as many heartbeats, the blades ringing. Ridmark moved faster than a man his age should have been able to move, and Tamlin knew that he was calling on Oathshield to augment his strength and speed. Calem fought with wild fury, but Ridmark fought with more control, never taking reckless chances, always keeping his defense ready.

  The two men were evenly matched.

  That meant it was time to tip the scales in favor of Ridmark

  Tamlin sprinted forward and cast a spell, thrusting out his left hand. He called on the magic of elemental air and hurled a lightning bolt towards Calem.

  It was a useless attack. The lightning bolt struck Calem and unraveled into nothingness. Tamlin felt like a fool. Of course – the magic of elemental air would be useless against the bearer of the Sword of Air itself.

  Like Calem had said, they would have to do this the traditional way.

  Tamlin took his sword hilt in both hands and charged.

  “Don’t let him touch you!” shouted Ridmark, parrying another blow from the Sword of Air. “That Sword will cut through anything!”

  Tamlin had gone through great efforts to obtain his sword of dark elven steel, and he had no wish to see it sliced in half by the Sword of Air. He circled to Ridmark’s right and attacked, launching two-handed blows at Calem. The white-cloaked man snapped up the Sword of Air to block the blows, and Tamlin retracted his attacks before his blade touched the silver sword. His attacks were useless, but they did force Calem to respond, which let Ridmark seize the resultant openings. Twice Oathshield hammered into Calem’s chest with enough force to dent the plates of dark elven steel, and Calem retreated with a grimace of pain. He launched his own swings at Ridmark, and while the Sword of Air seemed able to cut through anything, it couldn’t cut through Oathshield. The soulblade’s fire blazed hotter as it clanged against the silver sword, and Ridmark held his own against Calem.

  But neither could he land any fatal blows against the bearer of the Sword of Air.

  ###

  Kalussa Pendragon called magic to her, preparing a spell.

  Dread hammered against her heart. She knew firsthand the terrible power of the Seven Swords. Kalussa had seen her father in battle, the Sword of Fire in his hand, had seen him call firestorms to devastate his enemies or enchant the blades of his soldiers with elemental flame so their weapons could harm creatures of dark magic.

  The Sword of Air was the equal of her father’s sword in power. From her vantage point, Kalussa saw the side streets leading away from the agora, and the people on those streets had gone motionless as well.

  The Sword of Air had frozen everyone in Myllene.

  Had Kalussa not been the Swordborn daughter of the bearer of the Sword of Fire, it would have frozen her as well.

  It was a terrifying thought.

  But she could still move, and she could still act. Ridmark, Tamlin, and Calem wheeled around each other. All three men moved faster than they should have been able to move. Kalussa knew firsthand how fast and deadly Oathshield made Ridmark, and Calliande’s magic made Tamlin faster. But Calem moved with deadly haste, the Sword of Air flickering back and forth like a striking serpent. Ridmark Arban was perhaps the most dangerous warrior Kalussa had ever met, but she feared that Calem might come a close second.

  More than that, she feared that Calem might kill them all.

  Calem leaped backward, placing a dozen yards between himself and Ridmark and Tamlin, and at last Kalussa had her chance. She cast her spell, hurling another bolt of flame. Calem saw the attack coming and started to respond, but Kalussa had timed it perfectly. The bolt of fire struck him in the chest. The dark elven armor kept the fire from burning a hole through his lungs, but Calem rocked back with pain, and then Ridmark and Tamlin were on him. Both Oathshield and Tamlin’s blue dark elven sword rose and fell, and Calem had no choice but to retreat.

 
; Kalussa started another spell, a sphere of fire spinning above her hooked fingers. With Ridmark and Tamlin in the way, she didn’t have a clear shot at Calem. But once she did, she would hit him with every scrap of power that she could summon. The Sword of Air seemed capable of protecting him from any kind of magic, but only if he could concentrate while he was doing it.

  And if she caught him off guard, if her spell drilled through his forehead, Kalussa could end the battle then and there.

  ###

  Calliande watched the fight, holding her power ready and concentrating as she maintained the augmentation spells upon Tamlin and her own warding spells. She could have struck at Calem with elemental magic, but if she missed she might kill Ridmark and Tamlin. For that matter, she suspected the Sword of Air would protect Calem from nearly any elemental attack that Calliande could throw at him.

  And Calliande was not convinced that hitting Calem with elemental magic was the proper course of action.

  Because something about this entire battle seemed…off, somehow. Wrong.

  The chains of dark magic burned with black flames to her Sight. The spell had been woven throughout Calem’s entire body. It seemed like invisible thorns grew from the chains, digging into his flesh and his heart and his mind. Calliande had never seen a spell like that, but she suspected it was a spell of enslavement and control.

  She feared that Calem was not his own man, and she thought the spell of dark magic was compelling him.

  Could she break the spell?

  Calliande wasn’t sure. Given enough time, the Keeper of Andomhaim could break any magical spell. But this was a spell of exceeding potency, and it was less of a single chain woven through his flesh then thousands of smaller chains braided together into a single mighty link.

  Whoever cast that spell on Calem had spent years doing it.