by Pedro Urvi
Over the next three days they repeated this exploration, varying the areas each day. Lasgol found the market area, Nilsa’s favorite, very interesting, even though the enormous number of people strolling around it buying all kinds of goods increased his sense of oppression. There were too many of them, and he could not breathe. In addition to this, the Norghanians were so brutish and rude by nature that the experience of making his way through that crowded area was not much to his taste. Nilsa laughed at him, calling him a peasant and a village oaf because he was unable to get used to the crowds which constantly thronged the business area of the great city. She now felt like a fish in water, even though she kept bumping into people, since the moment she saw something that caught her eye she lunged to look at it without judging distances or dodging other people.
The area of craft workshops appealed far more to Lasgol. It too was busy, but (he was delighted to find) not quite so much. There were countless master-craftsmen and stalls selling everything from weapons to armor and utensils, which he would have loved to hold in his hands and study. The weapons, mostly in the Norghanian style, were wonderful, and those imported from other realms left him open-mouthed. He spent some time admiring a spear and sword from Rogdon which the armorer who was selling them swore belonged to a Royal Lancer, a member of the cavalry who protected the King of Rogdon.
Nilsa told him that Norghania had initially been built to protect the people of the region from the cold of the lethal winters. Hence the buildings and walls of the city were of massive stone and rock, which came from the famous quarries in the Norghanian mountains. It had been designed to be a great fortified city, protecting its residents not only from the cold but also from the enemy. Lasgol was delighted by the workshops and the century-old forges which were one of the main characteristics of Norghana, a country devoted to mining and metal-working. The mines in the north and west of the realm were the most famous in all Tremia, together with conquest and piracy, which were deeply-rooted in the Norghanian culture. If they had become a power in the continent, these were the reasons for their success. Lasgol knew this, and was deeply unhappy about the element of piracy.
The next morning, he was due to go out with Nilsa to carry on exploring the city when Gondabar came for him and told him to come with him. The leader of the Rangers was frowning, as if things were not going well. Lasgol began to feel nervous, guessing that he himself was involved in some way. He followed Gondabar along the dark, rocky corridors of the royal castle, with two Rangers leading the way. Suddenly the Leader turned to Lasgol.
“The King has granted me an audience,” he explained to him.
“Oh… and I have to be present too?”
“The audience is to be in the Throne Room. The King is considering certain important matters there. He’s asked that you be present.”
Lasgol’s stomach knotted. He wondered what the King could want with him, and Gondabar’s expression was not reassuring. He said nothing and followed his leader to the Throne Hall, which was heavily guarded. After consulting with the King, he and Gondabar were allowed to enter.
As he entered the Throne Hall, he felt a pang. In front of him he saw the spot where his mother had died, and it was as though someone were poking a hole in the middle of his stomach with an icicle. For a moment he could not walk. There was an enormous anguish in him that would not let him breathe, and he lagged behind a little. Unconsciously, he put his hands to his throat.
“What are you waiting for?” Gondabar asked when he saw that he was not moving any further. His tone was stern.
“Coming…” he managed to say as he shut his eyes and tried to erase from his mind the terrible memory the place brought back. He could still see his mother’s face in her final moments, could almost feel her in his arms. The memory struck him as if he were being torn in two by a huge two-headed Norghanian axe. He had to make a great effort not to throw up, but somehow he kept on walking. He had thought he would find it easier to deal with, but he had been wrong. Being back in that grim place was more than he could cope with.
They stopped in front of the king. Gondabar bent one knee, and Lasgol did the same. Unobtrusively, he glanced at the King, who was seated on the throne. His brother Orten was not present, and Lasgol was grateful for that. He would have enough trouble with Thoran as things were.
The King waved his hand to signal Gondabar to speak.
“Your Majesty, thank you for granting this audience to your humble servant.”
The King gestured to him to get to his feet. “We need to talk about the situation in the North,” he said.
“Yes, my liege.”
Lasgol took a good look at the King’s companions. On one side was Commander Sven, on the other First Ranger Gatik. Sven was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, without paying very much attention. The Commander of the Guard was unmistakable because he struck an alien note amid the huge blond Norghanians who made up the King’s Guard. Thin and not very tall, with dark hair and eyes, Sven was different, even though he was considered the best warrior in Norghania.
Lasgol turned his eyes to the First Ranger, Gatik, who looked just as he remembered: tall and thin, in his mid-thirties like Sven, but with blond hair and a short beard. His expression, as usual, was determined and stern, and he was staring back at him intensely. Lasgol remembered that on the orders of Uthar the Shifter, Gatik had shot against Egil, and that to save his son’s life, Duke Olafstone had given up his own. Lasgol knew that Egil bore this continually in mind and did not rule out the possibility that he might seek revenge someday. But his friend was intelligent and would do so at the right time, when circumstances were ideal.
In front of the King was the Ice Mage Eicewald, and Lasgol was surprised by his appearance. He was a tall, strong man, undoubtedly a Norghanian. He had the long white hair of all Ice Magi, of whom it was said that their blond locks turned white when their magic began to concern itself exclusively with the element of water and they became Ice Magi. Eicewald’s eyes and gaze, on the other hand, were dark, almost pure black, like two deep wells whose bottoms are invisible. Lasgol felt a shiver run down his spine. Not only was that dark gaze not Norghanian, it was also ominous. Now he understood why there were such rumors about this man.
“Your majesty, this is the Ranger who reported the events in the Frozen Territories. I have brought him at your request.”
The King looked at Lasgol up and down for a long moment. He scratched his chin, finally narrowing an eye as he recognized him.
“I know you,” he said. “You’re Darthor’s son, aren’t you?”
Sven raised an eyebrow. “And Dakon’s,” he added. He too was watching Lasgol with absolute distrust.
“True. Now I remember all that business… I thought you were with Dolbarar.”
The comment took Lasgol aback. Did the King really not remember him? Did he not have him located and kept under observation? If so, he could not be the one who was seeking to murder him. This eliminated one of the main suspects they had identified. Lasgol watched him unobtrusively, lowering his eyes and taking a quick glance in case he noticed something in his expression, in his eyes and decided not to trust him for the moment. It might be a trick to confuse him.
“It’s the youngest Olafstone who’s with Dolbarar,” Sven said, emphasizing the surname.
Thoran looked at him and nodded. “Ah, yes, that’s right. You’re a friend of his, aren’t you? Dolbarar interceded on your behalf after the incident with the Shifter.”
“That is right, your Majesty,” Lasgol replied respectfully.
Thoran nodded several times, and his gaze gleamed with understanding. Now he had recognized him and knew who he was. Even so, Lasgol still did not trust him.
“He was sent to the North on a mission, my liege,” Gondabar added, “and he found the Wild Ones resettling the territory in large numbers.”
“Is that true?” Thoran asked Lasgol.
“It is, your Majesty.”
“It isn’t just an
exaggeration to gain credit…?”
“No, sir,” Lasgol replied in surprise, suddenly serious. He had reported truthfully about what he had found.
“You’re not lying to your King, are you? If you are, I’ll interpret it as a maneuver to help the West by distracting my attention from the offensive, and you’ll hang…”
“I’m telling the truth, your Majesty,” Lasgol replied as emphatically as he could. “It’s not a maneuver of any kind.”
“It had better not be, or else you’ll lose your head!” the King said threateningly. His tone was brusque, almost violent. Lasgol realized that he was tense, very tense. Probably because of the preparations for the offensive and the deeply discouraging news from the north and southeast, where the Zangrians were all-too-active.
“You have my word as a Ranger, your Majesty.”
Thoran stared at him once again. He did not seem very convinced.
“How many villages did you find, and how many Wild Ones?”
“Three large villages, though there might be more. In each one there were several hundred Wild Ones.”
“That’s what it said in the report I received. So, you can corroborate that?”
“Yes, your Majesty, I can. One of the villages is beside a mountain, and in it the Semi-Giants have a shelter.”
“Inside it?” Gatik asked suddenly.
“Yes, sir. I believe the Semi-Giants prefer to live in deep caverns.”
“Interesting,” Gatik said. “That would explain why we so seldom see them on the surface.”
“Must I assume that they’re resettling the Frozen Territory?” Thoran asked.
“Not necessarily, your Majesty,” Sven said. “They might be simply testing us to see how we react.”
“Are you implying that they’re testing my mettle?”
“It might be so, my liege,”
“Nobody dares test my mettle and then comes out unscathed. Least of all those savage brutes.”
“A forceful action would give them clear warning that we’re not going to allow their expansion into Norghanian territory,” said Gatik.
“I’ll crush them for their insolence!” the King cried in a fit of rage.
Sven looked at Gatik questioningly, and the First Ranger held his gaze. “We can’t divide our forces, your Majesty,” Sven said. “We need to focus on a single front, that of the West. Sending part of our army to the North would be a tactical error.”
“I don’t make errors!” brayed Thoran.
Sven bent his head and let his argument drop. Lasgol guessed that he feared the king’s fits of rage.
Mage Eicewald had remained on the fringe of the conversation. Now he suddenly said: “Tell me about the Ice Specter.” His voice sounded deep and distant, at odds with his appearance.
The King turned to the Mage, apparently annoyed by the interruption, but did not order him to be quiet. Seeing that the King was saying nothing to the Mage, Lasgol answered him.
“It can’t be harmed with steel,” he explained, “and it’s a being, or a creature, with power.”
Eicewald turned to him eagerly. “Tell me everything you saw, in detail. Don’t leave anything out.”
Lasgol nodded, with a sideways glance at the king, who was leaning back in his throne to listen. He told them everything he had seen, with as much detail as he could remember. When he had finished his story, for a long moment Eicewald remained staring at the far end of the Throne Hall, his gaze distant.
“It’s not good news,” he said at last to the King.
“It’s nothing but a magical creature,” Thoran said with a wave which implied that it was no more than a minor annoyance. “I’ll crush it with my men.”
“I’m afraid not, my liege.”
“What do you mean?” Thoran brayed, furious that the Mage should contradict him.
“As the young Ranger said, steel won’t kill it,”
“How can you be so sure? It sounds like hogwash to me.”
“I think I can guess what kind of creature it is, and it might be very problematic.”
“Nonsense. Besides, if steel can’t kill it, magic will, right?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Well then, get rid of it.”
Eicewald was thoughtful for another long moment.
“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, my liege.”
“Aren’t you an Ice Mage with enormous power? Can’t you kill a mere creature from the Frozen Continent?”
“That’s exactly the point, my liege. It’s not a mere creature.”
“Then what is it? Because it seems to me that my First Mage is incapable of getting rid of a small annoyance for me” – his voice was disdainful – “then that raises doubts about his credibility and worth.”
Eicewald did not flinch. He did not seem to attach any importance to the comment. “That creature, if it’s what I suspect it is, won’t be at all easy to kill. Not by me, or by any mage.”
“Hah! You say that because you can’t kill it with that supposedly great power of yours.”
“I say it, your Majesty, because there are certain types of magic that are very difficult to counter. And I believe we find ourselves faced with such a case. My magic, and that of the other Ice Magi, will not be enough to kill this creature.”
“Of little use are my Magi to me, in that case,” the King said angrily.
Eicewald went on without flinching. “I would advise your Majesty to leave this matter in my hands and not begin any campaign against the creature until we’ve studied it and are sure it is what I believe it to be.”
“Bah!” Thoran said furiously. “That’s no kind of strategy.”
“My knowledge is at the service of my King.”
“What I need is your destructive magic, not your knowledge!”
“My magic is also at your service, but we need to know how and when to use it so that it works effectively, my liege.”
“Your magic is not much use to me if it doesn’t rid me of my enemies!”
“Until the First Mage finds a way to attack this creature of the ice,” Gatik put in, “we ought to focus our efforts on defeating the West.”
Sven glanced at him and nodded.
“Yes!” Thoran yelled at the top of his voice. “We have to finish off that accursed Olafstone and his league! I want them all dead, their heads on pikes stuck at the entrances to their fiefdoms so that everybody can see what’s in store for those who dare oppose me!”
“It shall be done,” Sven assured him confidently.
“They’ll pay with their lives,” Gatik added.
Thoran got to his feet. “I’ll unite Norghana again under a single flag. I’ll turn this kingdom into the most powerful of the North. One day I’ll conquer the Western lands. The haughty Rogdonians who today treat us as if we were northern barbarians will beg me for mercy when I conquer their realm.”
Sven and Gatik looked at him in amazement. The Rogdonians, the lords of the West, had the best cavalry in all Tremia. The Norghanians had the best infantry, but it was widely known that the infantry could do nothing against a cavalry charge. The King’s words unsettled them.
“The Rogdonians have declined to support our cause,” Sven said, “but that’s not reason enough for a war, your Majesty.”
“Of course they’re not going to help me! They know that as long as we’re divided, we’re a weak nation. The last thing they want to see is a strong, united Norghana. Then we’d be their rivals for the control of Tremia. I’m telling you now: one day we’ll march with a great army of brave and proud Norghanians and take Rogdon’s capital. By my forebears, we will!”
Lasgol noticed the concern in the eyes of Sven and Gatik. Even Eicewald, who seemed immutable, half-closed his eyes. They did not like what they were hearing at all. A king who talked in a fit of rage about taking Rogdon, one of the most powerful kingdoms of Tremia, when he still had a civil war to win and the Zangrians to discourage, was an insane king.
“Rogdon
is a long way away, and it’s not a threat, my liege,” Sven pointed out. “Zangria is a much closer danger, and a greater one.”
“Those Zangrian swine! My brother will deal with them. I’ve entrusted him with that. If they dare set foot in Norghanian territory, he’ll destroy them.”
“Duke Orten has taken the Blizzard Army with him to his fortress in the south,” Sven said.
“Is that a complaint, Commander?”
“No, my liege, but it might be better not to split our forces.”
“I don’t intend to let that snake, the King of Zangria, attack me from behind when I march on the West! My brother will be in charge of repelling the advance of his troops if he has the gall to try anything.”
Sven had to step back in the face of the King’s intensity. “Yes, my liege…”
“We’ll crush the West. With the Thunder and Snow Armies, the Invincibles of the Ice plus the mercenaries, we’ll finish them off in less than a season. I’ll unify Norghana once again and lead her to the glory she deserves. We’ll be feared throughout the continent, as we were before. The Zangrians won’t dare to come back to set their greedy eyes on our lands. Of that you can be absolutely sure.”
“Of course, your Majesty,” Gatik and Sven said almost in unison. Eicewald remained silent.
“And now leave me, all of you. I want to think.”
They all filed out of the hall, leaving King Thoran thoughtful on his throne. Lasgol took a last glance at the King before he left. He had the clear feeling that this man would be true to his promises and threats, or else die in the attempt. And this troubled him deeply.
Chapter 26
Three days later, Nilsa and Lasgol were wandering around the city and exploring it as if it were a dense forest. Little by little, he was growing used to the great rocky metropolis. He was grateful to be away from the royal castle; the experience in the Throne Hall had left a bad taste in his mouth, and he was trying not to think about it. The thousand and one interesting things the great city offered were a good escape.
He noticed that the streets were emptying and night was beginning to fall. “I think it’s getting late,” he commented.