Soul of Sorcery (Book 5) (6 page)

"So some necromancer learned how to create them," said Mazael.

"No," said Molly. "Their swords and mail are made in the style of Dracaryl."

"And that earthquake opened a cave in the hill," said Romaria. "They came from there."

"Gods," said Mazael. "We’ve been sitting atop a ruin of Old Dracaryl for all these years?" The San-keth temple had been bad enough. How many more secrets did the castle hold?

"There's worse news," said Lucan. "It takes a necromancer of power to control runedead. I suspect something worse than the runedead was sealed in that cave." 

"We heard a voice," said Molly. "Commanding the runedead and telling them to seize the Glamdaigyr."  

Lucan blinked as if an idea had just occurred to him.

"Yes," he said. "If whatever was in that cave claims both the Glamdaigyr and the Banurdem...that would be very bad.” 

"Well," said Mazael. "Then we find the thing that's commanding the runedead and kill it." 

"My lord!" Hagen hurried over, sword in hand, blood trickling from a cut in his temple. "More of those corpses are coming up the hill!"

"Open the gate," said Mazael. 

"My lord?"

"Do it," said Mazael. "The runedead can walk through the damned wall anyway. If we stay in here, they'll wear us down. So instead we shall march out and kill whatever is controlling the corpses." 

Hagen nodded and shouted orders. Mazael's knights and armsmen arranged themselves in formation before the gate, spearmen in front, swordsmen behind. Mazael walked before their ranks, slapping Lion against every blade, until it looked like a forest of blue flame crackled in their midst. 

Toraine's men formed up on the left, Toraine himself at their head. 

"I hope you'll join us, my lord," said Mazael. Perhaps a runedead would split Toraine's skull with a black blade and solve several of Mazael’s problems. 

Or perhaps, in the chaos of battle, Lion might accidentally plunge into Toraine's neck...

No. 

Mazael pushed aside the thought, and slapped Lion against the blades of Toraine's men. 

Then the portcullis rattled open, and the men marched out. 

A mass of runedead waited, their black blades glinting, their foreheads ablaze with sigils of green fire. 

A terrible voice, like rusted iron plates rasping over each other, rang out.

"Kill them all!" said the voice. "Leave none alive! Kill them all, take the castle, and bring the Glamdaigyr to me!" 

"Take them!" shouted Mazael. "Drive them from our lands!" 

The knights and armsmen shouted and charged. 

The men crashed into the undead, burning swords rises and falling. Mazael charged into the melee, Lion a blue of azure light in his hand. The battle rage of his Demonsouled blood filled him, making him faster and stronger. He cut down one runedead, and then another. Darkness flickered through the runedead, and Molly appeared and disappeared, never staying in one place for longer than a few heartbeats. 

She left a trail of destroyed runedead in her wake. 

Then they broke through the runedead, and Mazael saw the dark figure waiting at the base of the hill. 

For a terrible moment Mazael thought that Corvad had returned from the dead. The figure wore the elaborate black plate armor of Old Dracaryl, just as Corvad had in the end. Intricate reliefs of dragons marked the cuirass, and a black helm hid the figure's face, wings rising from its side. In its right hand the armored figure held a black sword, a sigil of green fire blazing on the blade near the crosspiece. 

How had Corvad returned? 

And had he already claimed the Glamdaigyr? 

Then Mazael's mind recovered from the shock. The figure's armor was similar to Corvad’s, but less elaborate. And the sword looked like the Glamdaigyr, but was smaller and had only one sigil carved into its blade. 

The last of the runedead fell, and Mazael stepped forward, Lucan, Romaria, Toraine, Molly, and Timothy at his side.

"Stay back, the rest of you!" he shouted.

He suspected the armored figure could mow through his men like wheat. 

The black helm turned to regard Mazael, and he saw a glimmer of green light within its depths.

"Who are you?" said Mazael. 

"In life," hissed the armored figure, "I was Ardasan Mouraen, a knight and vassal of the High Lord Randur Maendrag of Arylkrad." 

Beside Mazael, Lucan flinched. Did he recognize the name? 

"In life?" said Mazael. "What are you now?"

"A revenant," said Lucan. 

Mazael glanced at the wizard. 

"The most powerful form of undead the necromancers of Old Dracaryl could create," said Lucan, watching Ardasan. "And only wizards of considerable skill could transform themselves into revenants." 

"Yes," said Ardasan. "Long I served the great high lord Randur. And in repayment for my loyalty, he transformed me into this undying form and my men into runedead. He bade me to stand watch over Dracaryl's southern march for all time, to guard our realm from the barbarian nations on the far side of the Great Mountains."

"In other words," said Lucan, "he sealed you up in that cave and forgot about you. Or he perished before he could return and free you."

"Dracaryl fell centuries ago," said Mazael. "You now guard the southern march of nothing."

"These are my lands now, rotting thing," said Toraine, pointing his sword. "And I command you to leave them and never return!"

"Silence!" said Ardasan, lifting his black blade. "Dracaryl may have fallen. But I sense the presence of the Glamdaigyr, the great weapon the high lords forged to steal the might of the Demonsouled! With it, I shall rebuild Dracaryl, and rule an empire of the undead that stretches from sea to sea."  

Mazael lifted Lion. "You'll have to kill me first."

"Easily accomplished, little mortal," said Ardasan. "I ground my foes beneath my boot centuries before you were born, I..."

"Oh, shut up," said Molly. "Were all the nobles of Dracaryl such utter windbags? Little wonder your miserable realm fell, if you wasted all your time making pompous speeches."

"Impudent child!" roared Ardasan. "I shall tear the..."

Molly disappeared in a swirl of darkness and reappeared behind Ardasan. She plunged both her sword and dagger into a gap in the undead knight's armor. Ardasan bellowed in pain and whirled to face her, his sword trailing green flame, but she vanished again. 

Mazael sprinted forward, Toraine at his side. Romaria blurred into the shape of the great black wolf, fangs bared, eyes blazing like blue stars. Lucan and Timothy lifted their hands and began casting spells. 

Ardasan roared and plunged his sword into the earth. The sigil of fire near the hilt blazed bright, and a globe of green light appeared around him. The globe expanded, and a wall of green light slammed into Mazael. He staggered, a deathly chill spreading through him, and he felt the light draining strength and warmth from his body. 

"Perish!" said Ardasan, "and rise again as my thralls!" 

Lucan growled and thrust his hand. A symbol written in lines of crimson fire blazed on his palm, and red light strained against green. The globe of green light shattered and vanished, and the horrible chill faded away. 

Mazael dashed forward and swung Lion for Ardasan's head. But the undead knight whipped his sword up with superhuman speed, and Lion clanged off the blade. Ardasan stabbed for Mazael, but he dodged and struck back, Lion leaving a groove in the ornamented black breastplate. Darkness flickered, and Molly reappeared behind Ardasan, driving her blades through the gaps in his armor. Toraine drew closer, and Lucan began another spell. Ardasan howled and flung out his arms. Invisible force erupted from him in all directions, throwing both Mazael and Molly into the air. He struck the ground hard, armor clattering. He saw Molly tumble over the grass and slam into a rock at the base of the hill.

She did not get up again. 

Mazael staggered back to his feet as Toraine dueled Ardasan. The heir to Swordgrim was a capable swordsman, and his blade danced and darted around Ardasan. Yet the undead knight drove Toraine back step by step. 

Mazael hesitated. Wouldn't it be so much easier, so much better, if Ardasan cut down Toraine?

Mazael growled and threw himself forward. He would not leave any man to the mercies of an undead horror.

Besides, Mazael wanted to kill Toraine himself, if it came down to it. 

He attacked Ardasan, Lion leaving a dent in the revenant's shoulder plates. Ardasan wheeled with terrific speed, his sword picking off both Toraine's and Mazael's attacks.

A black blur shot past Mazael, and Romaria slammed into Ardasan's legs. Her claws could not penetrate his armor, but her size and strength knocked him off balance, and he staggered. Ardasan roared and brought his sword up for an overhand chop, and Mazael darted forward and plunged Lion's tip into the revenant's exposed armpit. Ardasan growled and ripped free, and Toraine’s curved blade whirled to bite into the back of the revenant's knee. 

Yet Ardasan was not slowing at all. Lion's fire hurt him, but did him no lasting injury. Ardasan was already dead, so Mazael had to find some way to destroy the spells animating the revenant. Usually Lion's fire was enough, but with an undead creature of such power...

Timothy thrust out his hand, and a blue spark leapt from his palm and slammed into Ardasan. The revenant flinched, but the spell did little damage.

But the creature's attention focused on Timothy, which gave Lucan the chance to strike.

A ribbon of crimson flame shot from Lucan's fingertips and hammered into the revenant. The spell threw Ardasan back, fingers of crimson lighting crawling up and down his armored limbs. Ardasan bellowed in fury and pointed his sword at Lucan, the sigil of green fire brightening. A sphere of rippling darkness shot from the blade and flew at Lucan. Lucan made a chopping gesture, and a shell of blue light flashed around him and unraveled the dark sphere. 

"His sword!" shouted Lucan. "Lord Mazael, his sword! Get it away from him, and he won't be able to recover from his wounds!" 

Mazael nodded and looked at Romaria. The black wolf's blue eyes met his, and he understood what she intended. 

"Perish!" roared Ardasan, charging with sword raised. 

Mazael blocked, backing away. Toraine joined him, and the revenant's fury increased, the creature driving them back step after step. Lion shuddered in Mazael's hands as he parried attack after attack. Ardasan simply moved too fast for him to land any blows...

Then Romaria crashed into the revenant's legs. 

Ardasan fell with a clang of black armor, Romaria's jaws clamped around his throat. The revenant roared and began to stand, grabbing at Romaria’s head. 

Mazael's right boot slammed into the wrist of Ardasan's sword hand, pinning it to the ground. His left kicked the crosspiece of the black sword, ripping it from the undead knight's hand.

"No!" screamed Ardasan, throwing Romaria off with a single powerful punch.

Too late.

Lion plunged deep into Ardasan's helm. Mazael caught a brief glimpse of the revenant's face, gaunt and bloodless, and Lion erupted with blue flame. Ardasan shrieked, every limb going rigid. Azure fire snarled around the joints of his armor, seeped from the fingers of his black gauntlets. 

A flash of blue light, and Ardasan crumpled against the ground, dissolving into a pile of smoking ash, charred bones, and black armor. 

Mazael let out a long breath and yanked Lion free. 

Chapter 6 - What We Are

Lucan closed his eyes as the undead knight fell.

The Demonsouled power he had stolen from Mazael raged in his mind, demanding that he unleash it, that he kill everyone in sight. He had used the power to augment his spells, permitting him to hammer past Ardasan Mouraen's wards. But now the Demonsouled power filled his mind, cajoling and tempting.

He didn't care. 

Before his ordeal in Arylkrad, he might have succumbed. The temptation now seemed like a distant, tepid thing. It still bothered him that he could remember nothing of what had happened in Arylkrad. But that was in the past. 

He forced the Demonsouled power back into its well.

It wasn't even particularly hard.

"Lucan?" said Timothy. "Is something amiss?"

Lucan laughed. "Other than that a horde of undead warriors emerging from beneath the castle? No, fear not, I am uninjured." Timothy was a good man and a loyal friend, though he would never wield the power Lucan commanded.

Of course, that meant he would never make mistakes on the scale Lucan had. 

"Lady Molly is injured," said Timothy as Mazael wrenched Lion from the destroyed revenant's head. "I should see to her."

"I'm sure," said Lucan, "that Lady Molly will be fine." He felt his lip curl in disdain. 'Lady' Molly, indeed. The woman was unstable and dangerous. Mazael should have simply killed her.

His gaze shifted to Mazael. Romaria blurred back into her human form and joined her, her gown torn and stained from the battle. Both began talking to Toraine.

Lucan flexed his hands, considering the killing spells that he knew.

Why not kill Toraine then and there? 

He had caused Lucan so much pain. He deserved to die, and Lucan would enjoy killing him. 

Why not do it now?

"Lucan?" said Timothy.

"Later," said Lucan.

"What?"

"Nothing." Lucan shook his head, made himself smile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Molly sit up, rubbing her side with a scowl. "Perhaps you should see to Lady Molly." 

Killing Toraine now would be counterproductive. It would almost certainly start a war between Mazael and Lucan's father. And such a war would make it difficult to defend the Grim Marches.

And Lucan would do whatever was necessary to defend the Grim Marches from dark magic.

As Ardasan Mouraen had just found out.

###

"Perhaps I should reconsider," said Toraine.

"Reconsider what?" said Mazael.

He glanced in Molly's direction and felt a wave of relief as she sat up. He had been afraid that Ardasan had hit her hard enough to kill her. But if she was still alive, her Demonsouled nature would heal any wounds she had taken. 

Hopefully Toraine wouldn't notice.

"My opinion on your marriage," said Toraine. "War between the House of Mandragon and the House of Cravenlock would benefit only our enemies." He smiled. "Why risk the hardship of war, when we can enjoy the blessings of peace?"

Mazael did not believe it for a second. 

What had changed Toraine's mind? He had been so eager for battle before.

The battle. He had seen Mazael and his allies in battle. Toraine must have concluded that a direct fight was too risky. Mazael had not the slightest doubt that Toraine would try to kill him by other means, assassination or an alliance with a more powerful lord. But at least he would not attack Mazael and his lands directly.

The Grim Marches would have peace.

Mazael only wished that it did not disappoint him so. 

And he still wanted to ram Lion through Toraine's heart. 

"Truly," said Mazael, "I am pleased to have your approval, my lord." 

"No doubt," said Toraine.

"Sir Hagen!" said Mazael. Hagen approached from the waiting armsmen, eyeing the smoking remains of Ardasan. "Return the men to the castle and see to the wounded. Take Lady Romaria and Lord Toraine with you."

Romaria lifted an eyebrow. "And just where will you be going?"

Mazael pointed at the dark opening of the cave in the hillside. "I'm going to make sure there's nothing else unpleasant waiting under the castle."

"You shouldn't go alone," said Romaria. 

"I won't," said Mazael. "Molly will come with me, to watch my back. And Lucan, to check for any wards or magical traps." 

And he and Molly possessed the ability to recover from wounds quickly. Even Romaria, with all the strength and speed granted by her wolf form, could not heal injuries with such speed. If any more runedead lurked in the cave, Mazael and Molly were the best choices to face it. 

And his Demonsouled blood wanted another fight, another foe to destroy. 

"Timothy," said Mazael, pointing at Ardasan's fallen sword. "Find a way to destroy that. If not, then lock it in the vault with the Glamdaigyr."

"My lord." Timothy pulled off his coat and wrapped it around the sword, taking care not to let his skin touch the weapon. 

Molly walked closer, her clothing dirty and torn, but otherwise none the worse for wear. "Ah, Father. I understand you plan another adventure for us?"

"Aye," said Mazael.

"How delightful," said Molly. "I'm sure peasant girls who wish they were the daughters of a lord do not fantasize about crawling into dark holes to fight animated corpses."

"I wouldn't know," said Mazael. "Lucan."

Lucan stared at the knights and armsmen. That empty, icy expression was on his face again. He was looking at Toraine, and for a moment Mazael was sure that Lucan was going to kill his older brother.

"Lucan," said Mazael again.

Lucan blinked, looked away from Toraine.

"Yes," he said. "Of course. Let's go." 

###

Molly squinted into the darkness of the cave's entrance.

"You should have sent for torches, Father," she said. 

"No need," said Lucan, lifting his hand. A shimmering globe of blue light appeared over his palm. With his other hand he waved over the mouth of the cave, face tight with concentration. 

“Anything?” said Mazael. 

“Residual power,” said Lucan. “The cave was quite heavily warded. Which explains why I never detected Ardasan and his pets. Or why no one else ever did.” He laughed. “They were right under the scaled bellies of the San-keth for all these centuries, and the serpents never had any idea.”

“Just as well,” said Mazael. “Ardasan might have thought the San-keth would make useful allies.”

“Or slaves,” said Molly, remembering her own dealings with the San-keth. “The serpents are clever, but they prefer to slink in the shadows and play with their puppets. They couldn’t control something like Ardasan.” 

“The wards are fading,” said Lucan. “Ardasan probably broke them when he left the cave.” He frowned. “And…there’s something else. I sensed it before, in the tower. I think someone used a spell to cause the earthquake, to open the cave.” 

“The San-keth?” said Mazael. “Some renegade like Malavost?” He hesitated. “The Old Demon?”

But Molly wondered why would the Old Demon bother with earthquakes and undead warriors? He had more effective weapons at his disposal. 

“I…” Lucan shook his head, as if trying to remember something. “I don’t know. The spell to create an earthquake like that is potent, but simple. It would beyond me, even with the bloodstaff.”

“Without your stolen power, you mean,” said Molly.

Lucan glared at her, his expression so cold that Molly reached for her weapons. 

“Even with the bloodstaff,” said Lucan, his expression calming. “Nevertheless. It took a great deal of power to open this cave.” 

“So why go to the effort?” said Molly, watching the wizard. She didn't understand why Mazael trusted him. Romaria thought it because Lucan alone had known Mazael’s secret for some time, and had not betrayed him. Yet Romaria did not trust Lucan Mandragon, and neither did Molly. “Why dig up some old undead from Dracaryl? Whoever conjured the earthquake didn’t try to take command of them.”

“Perhaps there was something else in the cave,” said Lucan.

Mazael pointed with Lion. “Let’s find out.”

He walked into the cave. Molly waited until Lucan entered, and then walked after him.

She was not going to turn her back on him. 

Lucan’s blue light cast wild shadows over the cave's ragged walls. Mazael walked in the lead, Lion ready. Molly kept her sword and dagger raised, watching for any sign of more undead.

She also kept an eye on Lucan.

The cavern opened into a large corridor of black stone. The walls and floor gleamed, reflecting the light in Lucan’s hand, and Molly saw her ghostly reflection in the dark stone. 

“This looks like the inside of Arylkrad,” said Molly. 

“Unsurprising,” said Lucan, “given that the high lords of Dracaryl built both.” 

The corridor ended in a large domed chamber, a smaller replica of the vast space that had held the Glamdaigyr. An empty throne sat beneath the dome, and stone benches lined the base of the wall. 

“Ardasan sat there, I warrant,” said Mazael, pointing at the throne, “and the runedead waited on those benches.”

“Gods,” muttered Molly. “They waited here for all these centuries? For what?”

“For the high lord Randur Maendrag,” said Lucan. “I suspect he left Ardasan and the runedead in the cave, intending to return for them. Instead he perished in whatever cataclysm of dark magic devoured Dracaryl. So Ardasan was forgotten.”

“You seemed like you recognized the name,” said Mazael. “Randur Maendrag. Did you know of him?”

“Aye,” said Lucan. “In some old books. He was one of the last high lords of Dracaryl. And I think he may have been my ancestor.” 

“Your ancestor?” said Molly.

Lucan shrugged. “According to the account of my family’s history, one of Randur Maendrag’s sons escaped the ruin of Dracaryl and came to the Grim Marches. He was the first Lord of Swordgrim.” 

“A pity he didn’t recognize you as his old lord’s heir,” said Mazael. “You could have commanded him to lay down his arms and saved us a lot of trouble.”

Lucan blinked, as if an idea had just come to him. “Commanded. Yes.”

“Is there anything else here?” said Mazael. “Any other undead, any other sources of magical power?” 

Lucan muttered a spell. 

“No,” he said after a moment. “Nothing. Only the wards are left, and those are fading. Seal off the entrance to the cave, and no one will ever trouble this place again.”

Mazael nodded and returned Lion to its scabbard. “Good.”

“Is something amiss?” said Lucan.

“No,” said Mazael.

“You look disappointed,” said Molly. 

“A bit,” said Mazael. He sighed. “My mind has been torn in two of late. I wanted peace for the Grim Marches, peace and prosperity. And yet…”

“And yet,” said Molly. “You want to fight. You want to kill. Your blood demands it of you.”

Her own blood did the same. 

Mazael closed his eyes. “Aye.” 

“I understand,” said Molly.

“Understand what?” said Lucan.

“Our Demonsouled blood,” said Mazael. “I had hoped for peace once the Malrags were driven back. We may have it now. And yet…my blood yearns for battle, for war. I want to fight and to kill. Sometimes it is all I can do to stop myself.” 

Lucan said nothing.

“It is the same with me,” said Molly. “I was an assassin of the Skulls. I hated that life…yet I loved the killing. Sometimes I dream about returning to the Skulls. Not that they would have me – no one leaves the Skulls and lives. I’m surprised they haven’t sent assassins after me yet. And I don’t want to go back. And yet…”

“Part of you wants to,” said Mazael. “Your blood wants to.”

Molly closed her eyes. “Aye.”

“I hoped there were more undead to fight,” said Mazael. He grimaced. “But it’s just as well. Too many of my men have fallen, and I will not have more innocent blood spilled.”

“Despite,” said Lucan, voice soft, “however much you want to spill it?”

“Aye,” said Mazael. “You do understand.” 

“Did you want to kill Toraine?” said Lucan. 

“Very badly,” said Mazael.

Something like a smile flickered over Lucan’s thin lips. “I commiserate. I’ve wanted to kill him since I was old enough to walk. So why didn’t you kill him?” 

“Because it would have been wrong,” said Mazael.

Lucan tilted his head to the side. “Wrong? What do you mean?”

“It would have been murder,” said Mazael. “And if I had killed him…Lord Richard would have made war on me and drowned the Grim Marches in blood. Once your father dies and Toraine becomes liege lord, he’ll be my enemy. Hopefully that will not be for long years yet, and I can find a way to keep the peace.”

“Yet for all that,” said Lucan, “you still wanted to kill him, badly.”

Mazael shrugged. “I am Demonsouled.”

“Yes,” said Lucan. “I suppose you are, at that.” 

“If we are going to have a philosophical discussion,” said Molly, “I suggest we have it in the castle. It is cold and dark down here, and I could use something hot to eat and drink.” 

“You’re right,” said Mazael. “Lucan, let’s go. I’ll send some stonemasons to seal this place off, but there doesn’t seem to be any need to rush.”

“A day or two shouldn’t hurt,” said Lucan. “But you’ll want to seal it off eventually. Otherwise you’ll draw every renegade fool with a few spells and dreams of Old Dracaryl.” 

“Wisely said,” said Mazael. “Let’s go home.”

###

Lucan stopped at the mouth of the cave, watching as Mazael and Molly made their way to the road leading to the castle’s gates.

Molly shot a look over her shoulder at him.

She did not trust him.

But that was just as well, since he intended to kill her.

Both her and Mazael. Mazael had been Lucan’s friend, but he, too, needed to die.

He had made the decision while listening to them discuss their Demonsouled nature. They would never change. They might struggle against their blood, perhaps even keep their murderous impulses at bay for years. But sooner or later their dark nature would assert itself, and they would become the monsters they were truly destined to be.