“Three laws bind the high elves,” said Ardrhythain. “One of them forbids us from seeking power or dominion over the other kindreds upon this world. That was one of the errors of our brothers, those who became the dark elves. During our long war, they summoned other kindreds to this world as slaves and soldiers.”
“Until they summoned the urdmordar,” said Rhyannis, “and so wrought the destruction of both the high elven and the dark elven kingdoms.”
“But you founded the Magistri and the Swordbearers,” said Ridmark. “You taught the Magistri their magic, and you forged the soulblades and wrote the Pact of the Two Orders.”
“This is true,” said Ardrhythain. “There was much debate about the decision among the mages of Cathair Solas.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the black staff. “In the end, we decided to unlock the power of the Well in Tarlion’s heart and forge the soulblades, giving them to your High King without any conditions, save that we could request the aid of a Swordbearer in an emergency. Without the soulblades and the Magistri, the urdmordar would have destroyed most of your kindred and enslaved the rest. We gave you the weapons and the magic to resist them, to use as you saw fit without governance from us…whether for good or for evil. The consequences were both good and evil. The urdmordar were defeated at last…”
“But the magic proved too much of a temptation,” said Ridmark as understanding came to him, “and the Eternalists and the Enlightened of Incariel arose.”
“As did the Frostborn,” said Ardrhythain. “You understand.”
Ridmark frowned. “The Frostborn? The…Frostborn were a consequence of the Two Orders?”
“In a way,” said Ardrhythain. “If you reach the Warden, you may find the truth. Come. Time is fleeting, and we must speak with Calliande and your other friends.”
Ridmark led the way back to the others as Calliande and Arandar finished healing them. He watched their reactions to the archmage. Arandar and Caius looked reverent, while Morigna and Jager were suspicious. Gavin seemed downright awed, while Mara simply appeared curious.
Calliande spoke first. “Lord Ardrhythain. Thank you for your assistance. Yet again.”
“It is…good to see you again, Calliande,” said Ardrhythain. “It is also strange. I last saw you in the flesh over two hundred and twenty years ago. Not often do as I see a living human across such a span of time.”
“I suppose you cannot tell me why I did this to myself?” said Calliande. “Nor who I really am?”
“I cannot,” said Ardrhythain. “I am prohibited by my promise to you.”
Morigna snorted. “For a woman who is so desperately keen to discover the truth of her past, you went to great lengths to conceal it from yourself. One suspects you could have simply saved yourself the effort and left a detailed note.”
Ardrhythain looked at her. The archmage said nothing, and there was nothing threatening in his expression or stance. Yet Morigna took an alarmed step back nonetheless, her hand coming up.
“My companions,” said Ridmark before Morigna could do something rash. “Kharlacht of Vhaluusk.”
“A baptized orc of Vhaluusk,” said Ardrhythain. “A rare sight.”
“My mother instructed me in the faith before she died,” said Kharlacht.
“It is well that she did,” said Ardrhythain. “Of old the orcs worshipped the dark elves and the urdmordar as gods, much as the Devout do today. Your Dominus Christus is a kinder master by far.”
“This is Brother Caius, once of Khald Tormen, now a brother of the mendicant order,” said Ridmark.
Caius bowed. “An honor to meet you, lord archmage. My kindred have been on this world for long millennia, so it is rare to meet someone who has been here longer yet.”
“I have heard of you in my travels,” said Ardrhythain. “The dwarven noble who renounced the gods of stone and silence and joined the church. The first one to ever do so, to my knowledge.”
“It is neither wise nor safe to ignore the demands of conscience,” said Caius, “and once a man knows the truth, he has an obligation to act upon it.”
“This is so,” said Ardrhythain. “You may well have a chance to live that lesson again soon.”
“Gavin of Aranaeus,” said Ridmark, and Gavin bowed.
“I see the marks of the urdmordar upon you,” said Ardrhythain.
Gavin hesitated. “My…village, Aranaeus. An urdmordar ruled it. I grew up there, and did not realize it until she tried to kill us all.”
“You never worshipped her,” said Ardrhythain.
“No.”
“And you stood against her when the truth was known,” said Ardrhythain. “That was a brave act. Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.”
Gavin shrugged, embarrassed. For a moment some of his newfound hardness fell away, and he looked very young. “I…did what seemed right at the time.”
“What was the urdmordar’s name?” said Ardrhythain.
“Agrimnalazur,” said Gavin.
“I faced her once, long ago,” said Ardrhythain. “She was a terrible foe, and slew many high elves. You did a great deed to strike her down.”
Gavin got a little redder and said nothing.
“This is Jager of Coldinium,” said Ridmark, “and his wife Mara.”
Jager offered a grand, flourishing bow. “Welcome, master archmage. It is very rare that one has the chance to meet a figure of history. Tell me, is it true that you can summon storms of flame and command the mountains themselves to obey you?”
“Jager,” Mara sighed.
Ardrhythain raised an eyebrow. “A storm of fire would be bad for the crops, and the mountains are not inclined to listen to me.” He considered the halfling for a moment. “I see the marks of dark magic upon you. In the past you have borne a weapon of the dark elves.”
“It was a bad day,” said Jager.
“He stole a soulcatcher from the Matriarch of the Red Family,” said Mara.
“Indeed?” said Ardrhythain. “A bold feat, indeed.”
“I know,” said Jager. “I was there.”
“Your wife…” Ardrhythain’s voice trailed off as he gazed at Mara, and for the first time he looked surprised. “You are half dark-elven.”
Arandar made a strangled noise and looked at her.
“Yes,” said Mara. “My mother was a freeholder, taken by the orcs in service of the Traveler of Nightmane Forest. My father was the Traveler himself.”
“By rights your dark elven blood should have overwhelmed you long ago,” said Ardrhythain, his unblinking golden eyes fixed upon her. “Yet…the transformation has come, has it not? But you are not an urdhracos. You are still your own…”
Mara shrugged. “It came a few weeks ago at the Iron Tower. I’m still not entirely sure what happened to me.” She gestured, disappeared in a column of blue fire, and reappeared a few yards away. “I can do this now, and I have the Sight.”
“You have dark elven blood and the Sight, and yet you look upon me without fear?” said Ardrhythain.
“I can see you,” said Mara. “All that power. You’re the strongest wizard I’ve ever seen, but that power is…clean, without taint. But you’ve seen so many things, I think. You’ve lost a great deal.”
“I fear so,” said Ardrhythain. “Parents. Brothers. Sisters. Children. Grandchildren. Comrades and friends and colleagues and servants and entire nations. Once the high elves were as numerous as the humans and the orcs. Now only a few of us remain within Cathair Solas.”
“My lord,” said Rhyannis, and she sounded shaken. “Is she…”
“It is,” said Ardrhythain. “You are something I have never seen before, Mara of Coldinium, and that has not happened for a very long time. A dark elven half-blood who transformed and yet retains control of her mind and will. You can hear the Warden’s aura, I assume?”
“Quite loudly,” said Mara. “It is rather grandiloquent.”
“Yet you feel no compulsion to obey?” said Ardrhythain.
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br /> “No,” said Mara. “It is difficult to put into words. There is a fire inside of me, one with its own song. It is louder than the Warden’s, and that gives me control of myself.”
“A dark elven half-breed,” said Arandar, shaking his head. “I never would have guessed it.”
“Your powers of observation astonish me,” said Morigna, still keeping a wary eye on the archmage.
“But you are so…polite,” said Arandar. He shrugged. “If the founder of the Two Orders says that you are not a threat, who am I to gainsay him?”
“Well, that,” said Jager, “and if you hurt her I shall pour poison into your mouth while you sleep.”
To Ridmark’s surprise, Arandar offered a bow to Jager. “A man should be no less zealous in the defense of his wife.”
“This is Sir Arandar of Tarlion,” said Ridmark before the conversation could escalate into another argument, “a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade.”
“Greetings, Sir Arandar,” said Ardrhythain. “You bear Heartwarden, the blade once carried by Ridmark himself.”
“I do,” said Arandar.
The archmage looked at Ridmark. “That does not trouble you?”
It gave him a damned fierce headache. “What I think does not matter. I lost the sword by rights.”
“Why have you come to Urd Morlemoch, Sir Arandar of Tarlion?” said Ardrhythain. “Surely the High Kingdom has greater need of you elsewhere.”
“Perhaps,” said Arandar, “but my duty compels me to be here. A quest of honor has driven me to Urd Morlemoch, and I will save my son, whatever the cost to myself.”
Ardrhythain inclined his head. “A worthy cause. I had hoped that men like you would take up the soulblades once they were forged.”
“I only hope that I do not fail in my duty,” said Arandar.
Ardrhythain’s eyes shifted to Morigna, who met his golden gaze without flinching.
“And this,” said Ridmark, “is Morigna, once of Moraime.”
“Tell me," said Morigna before Ardrhythain could speak, “if you know who Calliande is, why do you not tell her? You would save us much trouble and toil.”
“Calliande herself asked me not to do so,” said Ardrhythain. “To speak nothing of her past before she could recall it.”
“That is a pitiful excuse,” said Morigna.
“Morigna,” said Calliande, her voice sharp.
“Perhaps,” said Ardrhythain, “but it is necessary. Our law forbids us from seeking power over the other kindreds. Such a course walks the path of corruption, and leads in the end to the fate of the dark elves.”
“A convenient excuse,” said Morigna, “to keep you from dirtying your hands. Let the humans wield the soulblades and fight the wars while you remain safe behind the walls of Cathair Solas.”
“The temptation to abuse power is great among the humans,” said Ardrhythain, “but it is greater among us. To use our power in the way you describe would inevitably give us power over you, and we dare not trust ourselves with power.”
“How very convenient,” said Morigna.
“I hear the mark of dark magic upon you,” said Ardrhythain.
“One supposes you shall now cloak that observation in some oracular nonsense?” said Morigna.
“Nothing of the sort,” said Ardrhythain. “I hear it in your arguments. When the urdmordar besieged Tarlion and I offered the soulblades and the magic of the Well to the High King, some of his nobles said the same thing. That we ought to use our magic to remake the world, to build it stronger and better than God intended. Even after the High King accepted the Pact of the Two Orders, such arguments persisted…and one day became the foundations of the Eternalists and the Enlightened of Incariel.”
“Do you think me enamored of dark magic?” said Morigna. “One of the last of the Eternalists murdered my mother and father, and prepared me to serve as the vessel for his corrupted spirit. So I hate dark magic more than someone like you ever could. If I had the kind of power you wield, I would not sit idly while mouthing pious platitudes about the dangers of action. No one would ever harm me and those I love ever again.”
“What do you think dark magic is?” said Ardrhythain. “The Eternalists had a vision for what they thought was a better world. So do the Enlightened of Incariel. So did the dark elves. You think power is freedom? No. It is much heavier than that. Power is a burden, a grave responsibility, and the more power you wield the graver the responsibility. A freeholder’s sins might destroy his family. A Dux’s mistakes could destroy a nation. I urge you to think upon this. Your quest for freedom could lead you far upon the path to destruction.”
“Thank you for the counsel,” said Morigna, her voice cold and hard as ice, “but I shall rely upon my own judgment.”
“So be it,” said Ardrhythain. “I have said what I must say to you. Whether you listen is in your hands.” He turned back to Ridmark and Calliande. “My time grows short, and you will have questions for me.”
“Why does your time grow short?” said Ridmark.
“Shadowbearer seeks me,” said Ardrhythain, “and if he does not find me, he will come for you instead.”
“Shadowbearer?” said Calliande.
“Have you not wondered,” said Rhyannis, “why the bearer of shadow has not found you? Why he has not slain you and taken the empty soulstone?”
“Often,” said Ridmark. “I feared that he would find us ever since we rescued Calliande from the altar upon Black Mountain.”
“He has not found you,” said Ardrhythain, “because I have been pursuing him ever since he stole the empty soulstone from the caverns beneath Cathair Solas four months ago. We have been locked in magical battle ever since.”
“You hardly look,” said Morigna, “as if you are locked in magical battle at the moment.”
“He is too deep into the threshold for us to reach each other,” said Ardrhythain. “In a few hours he will emerge, and I shall have to be ready to pursue him again.”
“The threshold?” said Calliande. “I’ve…I’ve heard that term before, I’m sure of it.”
“The knowledge will come to you,” said Ardrhythain, “now that you have heard it.”
“It’s the shadow,” whispered Calliande. “Or the reflection.” She gestured, trying to frame her thoughts. “This world, it throws a…a shadow, a reflection, into the spirit realm. Powerful wizards can access this place. It is a dangerous realm, but magic is far more powerful within the threshold.”
“Our duel,” said Ardrhythain, “has taken us there frequently. Yesterday I pressed him hard, and he retreated deeper into the threshold. It will take him some time to extract himself and return to the waking world, which is why I am able to speak with you now.”
Jager snapped his fingers. “That’s why he didn’t blow us all to ashes when we sacked the Iron Tower, isn’t it?”
“When Shadowbearer convinced Qazarl to attack Dun Licinia,” said Kharlacht, “his comings and goings were erratic. This account explains much. I told Qazarl that Shadowbearer was simply using us and not to be trusted.”
“It is regrettable that he did not heed you,” said Ardrhythain. “Once the bearer of shadow returns from the threshold, I will be there to meet him. By then you will beyond his reach. You will have entered the circumference of the wards around Urd Morlemoch, where Shadowbearer cannot harm you and I cannot aid you.”
“You called Shadowbearer by name when you faced him,” said Calliande. “Tymandain. Is that truly his name?”
“It is,” said Ardrhythain. “The bearer of shadow was once an archmage of the high elven kindred, like me. He listened to the lies of Incariel, and became the bearer of shadow long ago.”
“So much for not ruling over the affairs of other kindred,” said Morigna.
“Then you see,” said Ardrhythain, “why our law forbids it? Tymandain sought power to protect that which he loved. Look at what he has wrought. Look at what he has become.”
Morigna said nothing.
“Thank you,” said Ridmark. “You shielded us from a grave danger, and we knew it not.”
Ardrhythain nodded. “Calliande was in danger since before you were born, Ridmark Arban. Shadowbearer would have slain her in the vault below the Tower of Vigilance, but the wards around it were too powerful.”
“So he waited until I awoke, and sent Qazarl and the Mhalekites to kill me,” said Calliande.
“This is so,” said Ardrhythain. “You, Ridmark Arban…you have been in danger ever since you agreed to help me during the Festival of the Resurrection nine years past. The shadows of your future pointed in this direction. By choosing to aid Calliande, the danger has grown sharper. Soon it approaches a crisis point. Ask me what you will, and if I can aid you without violating our law, I shall.”
Ridmark considered this. There were limits to what Ardrhythain would do. He would not follow them into Urd Morlemoch, and he would not violate Calliande’s ban on discussing her memory. But the archmage likely knew other useful things.
“I assume you will not be able to tell me how the Frostborn are returning,” said Ridmark. “Probably because of the prohibition against speaking about Calliande’s past. But I will ask you this…does the Warden know?”
“He does,” said Ardrhythain. “He knows everything that you want to know. The Warden is the mightiest wizard the dark elven kindred ever produced. His knowledge is wide and deep, as is his malicious wisdom. He can answer your question.”
“And me,” said Calliande. “Does he know who I really am?”
“The Warden will know,” said Ardrhythain. “He knows less about you than he does about the Frostborn, and he will not know as much as you might like. But he does know who you really are, and he knows where Dragonfall and your staff wait.” Calliande stepped forward at that. “If you can best him, he will tell you.”
“How can we defeat him?” said Ridmark.
“As you did before,” said Ardrhythain. “The Warden can obliterate you any time he chooses, once you step within his influence. He has been trapped within Urd Morlemoch for tens of thousands of years, and he is bored. He will play a game with you. A deep, subtle, deadly game. If you can best him as you did before, then you will have a chance of departing Urd Morlemoch alive with the knowledge that you require.”
The Dark Warden (Book 6) Page 11