Soul of Swords (Book 7) (17 page)

“I have every right!” Malden drew himself up, his armor flashing in the sun. “I am the Lord of Knightcastle, and the realm is in chaos. Runedead ravage the land, serpent-worshippers creep through the shadows, and Demonsouled lords raise armies and march to war. Only I stand against them.”

“If you truly want to wage war against the worshippers of the serpent,” said Hugh, “I suggest you keep marching north. You’ll find more servants of Sepharivaim than you’ll know how to handle.” 

“That is why I left Knightreach,” said Malden. “Word reached my ears that Mazael Cravenlock is of the blood of the Old Demon, and Grand Master Caldarus of the Justiciar Order marched east to destroy his evil.” 

“A likely story,” said Hugh. “Knowing the Justiciars, they thought up the lie to justify reclaiming their old estates in the Grim Marches.”

The cloaked figure turned his head. The face within was gaunt and pale, with unblinking black eyes. The cloaked man wore a black diadem in the shape of a curled dragon upon his brow, the dragon cradling a glowing emerald in its claws. 

Something about that diadem, and that face, scratched at Hugh’s memory. He had seen that man before. But where? 

“I would have marched with Caldarus,” said Malden, “but the Aegonar sent an embassy to Knightcastle, demanding my submission. I threw them out, and my advisor,” he nodded at the cloaked man, “discovered that the Aegonar were under the command of Skalatan. An entire nation of San-keth proselytes cannot be left unchallenged. I gathered my army and marched north at once.”

“And quite an army it is, too,” said Hugh, looking at the cloaked man. The man’s black eyes returned his gaze without flinching, without even blinking, and something in his stare made Hugh’s skin crawl. It was like gazing into the eyes of a dead man. “And what sort of necromancy did you use to bind the runedead to you?”

“Nothing of the sort,” said Malden. “The runedead were enslaved by Caraster, a rebel and a madman. Once Caraster was defeated, the runedead submitted to me, due to the justice of my cause and my rightful position as liege lord.”

Maurus snorted, once, and fell silent. 

“So you came with a host of runedead,” said Hugh, “to make war upon the Aegonar. Well and good. I will be blunt with you, my lord Malden. Greycoast is in dire peril, and we would welcome your assistance. We were already weakened from the chaos of the Great Rising, and the Aegonar invasion caught us with my father’s armies scattered. Before he could respond, the Aegonar had seized the northwestern quarter of Greycoast. Then Malaric murdered my father and brothers and claimed the diadem for himself. His ambition and bloodlust were equaled only by his incompetence as a commander, and thanks to his folly, fully half of Greycoast now lies under the control of the High King of the Aegonar.” 

A strange look went over Malden’s youthful face. Regret, perhaps? No – it was sympathy, and Hugh felt a flicker of hope. 

The cloaked man turned his head to look at Malden. 

“The runedead are a blight and a scourge upon the land, but I will not lie to you,” said Hugh. “If you have come to aid us against Skalatan and the Aegonar, then I will not turn away even this…this army of abominations.”

“Yes,” said Malden, voice quiet. “You are the Prince of Greycoast, and you must do what is necessary to defend your lands and people.”

“I must,” said Hugh. “And I must also ask you why you have come north to make war upon the lords of Greycoast. Why? We have not made war upon you, or even insulted you. We did not come to your aid against the runedead or Caraster, that is so…but the Aegonar pressed us hard and we had no aid to spare.”

An instant of confusion flickered across Malden’s face, and then his expression hardened. 

“The shadows are your doing,” said Malden.

“Shadows? What shadows?” said Hugh. “It’s almost noon. There are no…”

“The gray shadows, the creatures some have named runeshadows,” said Malden. “They rise from the earth and attack the living, and can only be destroyed through magic. They are your doing.”

Hugh burst out laughing. 

Malden blinked in surprise.

“Truly?” said Hugh. “You think I created those shadows? How, pray? I am no necromancer. I am not even a wizard, and none of the wizards in my service practice necromancy.” 

“You created them with your Demonsouled talisman,” said Malden. 

“My what?” said Hugh. “I have no magical talismans, Demonsouled or otherwise.” 

“The skull you took from Malaric,” said Malden. “You allied with the Demonsouled Mazael, slew Malaric, and took the skull of a powerful Demonsouled from Malaric. The skull gave Malaric the powers of a Demonsouled…and now you wield the skull yourself.” 

“For the love of the gods!” said Hugh. “Malaric had such a skull, yes. But when Malaric was slain, Skalatan took it and fled to the Aegonar. I never touched it. Gods, I never even saw the thing. Malaric kept it warded in my father’s old study.” 

He expected rage from Malden, expected a sneering denial.

Instead he only looked confused, and for an instant Hugh caught a glimpse of a puzzled old man in the youthful face. 

“You…don’t?” said Malden. “But…then where did the shadows come from?”

“I don’t know,” said Hugh. “Perhaps you could tell me.”

“The Demonsouled talisman created them,” said Malden. “It has to be.” He shook his head. “It has to be.” 

“My lord,” said Hugh, “I swear to you, I have never seen or used that skull. You have come north for a fight, aye…but you are fighting the wrong foe! The lords of Greycoast have not harmed you or made war upon you. In truth, my lord, we have been so occupied with our own troubles that we have never spared you a thought.”

Malden’s frown deepened.

“If you want to rid the world of evil, to fight with the cause of justice,” said Hugh, “then aid us! Ride to war with us against the Aegonar, and help us drive them back into the sea. If that Demonsouled skull is indeed summoning the shadows, Skalatan has it, and only with his defeat will we be free.” He held out a hand. “My lord, please…the world needs you to do this.”

Malden wavered, and Hugh felt a sudden wild hope. That cloaked advisor had some sort of baleful influence over Lord Malden, that was plain, but if Hugh could gain Malden’s aid…he would not turn it away.

He would not even turn away an army of runedead. Not when the plight of Greycoast was so desperate. 

Malden wavered, and Hugh held his breath.

###

Lucan realized that he had made a serious error.

He should not have let Malden agree to this parley. The young Prince of Barellion had proven eloquent, and Lucan saw that his arguments had reached Malden. Another few moments, and Malden would agree to aid Hugh against the Aegonar.

Lucan could not allow that.

But could he use it to his advantage?

For a moment he considered the idea. The Aegonar could not stand against the runedead, and the knights and the black daggers would slaughter thousands of Aegonar warriors. That alone might draw enough life energy to open the Door of Souls. 

Unless Skalatan chose to interfere. 

That possibility concerned Lucan. Skalatan was powerful and subtle, and Lucan did not want to risk a confrontation with him. The archpriest had undoubtedly made plans to stop Lucan and reach the Door of Souls for himself, and Lucan could not permit that. If Skalatan transformed himself into a new god, he would be worse than any of the Demonsouled.

No, better to destroy the armies of Greycoast and sack Barellion. The runedead could destroy the Prince’s host and take Barellion before Skalatan stirred himself, and then Lucan could unleash the knights with their black daggers. The knights would feast, the Door of Souls could open…and Lucan would return to Knightcastle and enter Cythraul Urdvul before Skalatan could stop him.

How best to arrange that? Perhaps he should allow Malden and Hugh to reach an alliance, and then stage an act of treachery during the march north. That would turn Malden against Hugh. Lucan’s eyes wandered over Hugh’s party on the riverbank, contemplating various plans…

He found himself looking at Hugh’s standardbearer, a vigorous-looking knight with curly brown hair and a bushy beard.

And with a shock, Lucan recognized the man. 

It was Philip Montigard. Years ago, before Mazael had even returned to the Grim Marches, Caldarus had tried to have Lucan assassinated to spite Lord Richard. The assassins had almost overwhelmed Lucan, but Montigard had intervened, and Lucan had used his magic to overcome the Justiciars. After that, Montigard had gone on his way…and apparently had ended up in service to the Prince of Barellion. 

Even as the thought crossed Lucan’s eyes, Montigard’s gaze met his. 

The knight’s eyes narrowed in thought…and then widened in surprise.

###

“My lord!” 

Hugh turned, alarmed, and saw Montigard riding forward, pointing at the black-cloaked figure. 

“My lord, beware!” said Montigard. “It is Lucan Mandragon!”

“Lucan Mandragon?” said Hugh. “No. Lucan Mandragon is dead. Mazael killed him at…”

Two facts clicked together in his mind with terrible force.

Suddenly he remembered where he had seen the cloaked man’s face before. It had been in at a tournament in the Grim Marches, years ago, when Hugh had still been a squire. He had seen Lucan Mandragon with Lord Richard. It was the same face, though older and harder now.

The second fact was that Lucan was utterly motionless.

He was not even breathing. 

“My lord Malden!” said Hugh. “Get away from him, quickly!”

“What are you talking about?” said Malden.

“That is Lucan Mandragon!” said Hugh.

“Yes, I know,” said Malden. 

“You know?” said Hugh. “Do you know what that man has done?”

“He healed me from a dire illness,” said Malden, “and defeated the rebel Caraster. And with Caraster dead, the runedead now follow me and…”

“He created the runedead!” said Hugh.

“I know,” said Malden. “He told me. He raised the runedead to cleanse the world of the Demonsouled.”

“And what has been the result?” said Hugh, gesturing at the undead atop the valley. “You are at the head of an army of rotting corpses, of horrors raised by necromancy! How many people have died, my lord Malden? How many people have suffered, how many people have seen sons die, daughters die, at the hands of the runedead?”

Malden flinched, a shadow of grief crossing his face, and Hugh saw that his words had struck home. 

Hugh pointed at Lucan. “What has he made you do? He might have healed you and made you young again…but what has been the cost? My lord, I beg you, ask yourself this. Five years ago, could you have seen yourself doing the things Lucan Mandragon had made you do? Or would you have denounced yourself as a monster?” 

“Silence!” said Malden, yet Hugh saw the grief there. “Silence! I…”

“My lord, do not listen to him.” Lucan’s voice was cold and dead. “Have I not healed you? Have I not defeated the rebel Caraster in your name? Yes, I worked the Great Rising and raised the runedead to rid the world of the Demonsouled. Yes, there have been…losses, I deny it not. But it will be worth the price. We will rid the world of evil, and you will bring the realm to order…”

Hugh took a gamble. “Who did he kill, my lord? Who in your family? Your sons? Your wife? My lord, why do you countenance this?” 

Malden hesitated, and Hugh saw the terrible doubt on the older man’s face.

Lucan’s mouth thinned into a hard, bloodless line, and his right hand moved in a small gesture. 

“My lord Prince!” shouted Maurus. “Beware! He’s…”

A sheet of gray mist swirled over the surface of the water, and dozens of misshapen, translucent beasts appeared. The creatures looked like wolves with scorpion tails and manes of barbed tentacles. Hugh cursed and drew his sword, bracing himself for the attack…

But the spirit creatures turned and attacked Lord Malden’s men. Screams and shouts rang from the knights as they fought against the beasts, and Hugh lowered his sword in confusion. Lucan had conjured the creatures, he was sure of it. But why attack Malden’s men? 

“We are betrayed!” shouted Lucan. He gestured, blue light flashing from his fingers, and one of the beasts vanished an instant before it would have sprang upon Malden. “My lord, we are betrayed! Hugh’s wizards have conjured the beasts! Defend yourself!” 

“What?” said Hugh. “That is a lie! We…”

Malden roared, his face twisting with mad rage. “You betray me? You dare, Hugh of Barellion? You will regret this!” He drew his sword and raised it over his head. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

A ripple went through the massed runedead, and the vast host began to march forward. 

Hugh cursed, his mind racing as Malden’s knights struggled against the spirit creatures. He had been so close! Perhaps he could yet convince Malden to…

“My lord Prince!” said Maurus, grabbing his sleeve. “My lord, we must go. We shall be overrun!” 

Hugh hesitated, nodded, and galloped back to join the others.

###

As the sun set, the armies of Knightreach climbed the northwestern side of the Mistwater valley.

“I still cannot believe,” said Malden, shaking his head, “that Hugh would attack me during a parley. Everard Chalsain would never have been so dishonorable.” 

He turned his horse and watched his footmen and knights climb the slope. The runedead had reached the far edge of the valley first, leaving the living men to cross the river with their horses and carts laden with supplies. 

“It is clear,” said Lucan, “that the Demonsouled talisman has corrupted him utterly.” 

“So it would seem,” said Malden.

“I fear, my lord,” said Lucan, “that you have no choice but to defeat him and take Barellion for yourself.”

“Your counsel is sound,” said Malden, looking to the north.

Yet the doubts remained. Hugh’s words lingered in his mind. 

Could Malden have been so mistaken?

###

Three days later Hugh sat atop his horse in the square below the Gate of Knights, watching the last of his host move into the city.