“Then you were right,” rumbled Kharlacht, “and they are making for Urd Arowyn.”
“Most likely,” said Ridmark. “Or another ruin in the hills, or a cavern where the urdmordar could hide her larder. But the arachar are probably making for Urd Arowyn.”
And they would do so slowly. Six hundred men, women, and children would not travel quickly. Ridmark’s small group, even with Father Martel on the mule, could overtake the prisoners.
Though he had no idea what to do then.
There were between one hundred and fifty and two hundred arachar, their strength and prowess enhanced by Agrimnalazur’s blood. Ridmark’s group had seven people, two of them a tired old man and a girl who had never lifted a weapon in anger. If they tried a direct confrontation, they would die.
Ridmark had to think of something clever.
The beginnings of a plan simmered at the edge of his mind.
Ridmark looked at the trees around them, scanning the ground for the trail of the captives and the arachar, but his mind turned back to Calliande. She had come after him once Paul and his hirelings from the Red Family had attacked, but she couldn’t have known that he was in danger.
Yet she had come anyway.
Her concern touched him, though he did not deserve it. He wondered who she had been in her previous life, before she had gone to sleep away the centuries in the dark vault below the Tower of Vigilance. Even before her magic had returned, she had been brave. What would she be like if her memories resurfaced?
If he wanted the answer to that mystery, he would have to go to Urd Morlemoch and pry the secret out of the Warden. Or find the Dragonfall place she had remembered.
“Is something amiss?” said Kharlacht.
“Hmm?” said Ridmark, shaking off his reverie. There was a time and a place for such musings. Tracking a band of arachar through the hills of the Wilderland was neither. “Nothing more than is obvious, I fear.”
Kharlacht nodded. “The situation is dire. But no more dire than the siege of Dun Licinia, and you found a way to break that.”
Ridmark frowned. “I had little enough to do with it. Sir Constantine came with reinforcements, and Calliande broke the spells around Qazarl. I only…”
He stopped, raising a hand, and the others halted.
“What is it?” said Calliande.
“Father Martel, Rosanna,” said Ridmark. “Have you ever spoken to a beastman before?”
Rosanna shook her head.
“I have seen them from afar,” said Martel, “but never spoken with one.”
“That’s about to change,” said Ridmark. “Get off the mule and hold it steady. It might panic. Try not to stare at any of the beastmen, but if you do, for God’s sake do not break eye contact. If they become hostile, stay near Calliande. They’ll do whatever she tells them to do.”
Rosanna’s eyes grew wide, but the old priest nodded.
A few moments later the lupivirii appeared out of the surrounding forest. There were nearly a score of them, and they moved into a loose ring around Ridmark’s group. One of the lupivir moved forward on all fours, and then reared up on his legs. His form shifted and blurred, and Ridmark found himself looking at Rakhaag son of Balhaag son of Talhaag.
“Rakhaag son of Balhaag,” said Ridmark, meeting the lupivir’s gaze.
Rakhaag growled and began speaking orcish. “Ridmark son of Leogrance.” His breath hissed through his fangs. “It seems the words you spoke to the True People were not false words.”
“You saw what happened to the village, then?” said Ridmark.
“Yes.” The lupivir moved closer. “We saw the men and orcs who have been taking our young, a great pack of them. They descended upon the village with metal weapons and fire, and took many captives.”
“Do you know where they went?” said Ridmark.
“You are upon their trail,” said Rakhaag. “I believed they would go to Urd Dagaash and overwhelm you within the ruins. But instead they circled around the hill and went to the north.”
“Then you see,” said Ridmark, “that the men of Aranaeus did not take your females and your young?”
“No,” said Rakhaag. “You told it truly. But it seems there are traitors within the men of Aranaeus.”
“What do you mean?” said Ridmark.
“A man of Aranaeus commanded the tainted men and tainted orcs,” said Rakhaag.
“Describe him,” said Ridmark.
Rakhaag closed his eyes, no doubt communing with the great memory of the lupivirii. “Old. Older than you. Curly gray hair. He smelled sick. A woman was with him. She smelled…tainted, as did the orcs.”
“The man was Cornelius, the praefectus of the village,” said Ridmark. Gavin looked up at the mention of his father’s name. “The woman was Morwen, his wife. And they, I fear, are responsible for kidnapping your females and your young.”
Rakhaag bared his fangs. “You will tell me more.”
“Do you know,” said Ridmark, “of the urdmordar?”
A violent shudder went through Rakhaag, and the other lupivirii growled.
“The great spider-devils,” said Rakhaag. “They are death made flesh, and they weave webs of lies and dark magic. Ever since the great memory first began upon this world, they have tormented us and hunted us.”
“You said the orcs smelled tainted,” said Ridmark. “They are called arachar. They drank of the blood of the urdmordar Agrimnalazur to make themselves stronger and faster.”
“The True People have faced such foes before,” said Rakhaag. “The great memory records that the dark elves brought us to this world to fight their wars. But then the dark elves summoned the urdmordar, and the spider-devils enslaved them. The True People fled south to escape the urdmordar, for no one can stand before them.” His fangs clicked. “And these arachar took the humans of Aranaeus?”
“Aye,” said Ridmark. “And they took your kin.”
“Why?” said Rakhaag. “The urdmordar have hunted us before, but never sent their slaves to do it for them.”
“Because,” said Ridmark, “the Staffbearer has returned.”
He did not dare look away from Rakhaag, but he heard the crunch of fallen leaves as Calliande came to his side.
“You know why the Staffbearer has awakened,” said Ridmark. “The Frostborn are returning, unless we find a way to stop it. The urdmordar know it, too. So they are preparing, like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. Agrimnalazur sent her servants to kidnap men and women, both human and of the True People, and bring them to her lair. Then she will use her venom to put them into a deep sleep, and feed on them while the Frostborn cover the world in ice.”
“This news is dire,” said Rakhaag. “An urdmordar is a terrible foe.”
“They are,” said Ridmark, “but I suspect I know where Agrimnalazur’s servants have taken your missing females and young.”
“Where?” said Rakhaag.
“A dark elven ruin several days north of here,” said Ridmark. “A place called Urd Arowyn.”
Rakhaag recoiled, breaking gazes with Ridmark. Ridmark lifted his staff, wondering if Rakhaag intended to attack. But Rakhaag did nothing, and after a moment Ridmark realized what had happened.
The name had made Rakhaag recoil.
“That is an evil place,” said Rakhaag, “worse than Urd Dagaash.”
“I take it anyone who enters Urd Arowyn never returns?” said Ridmark. If a female urdmordar laired within the ruins, that made sense.
“Yes,” said Rakhaag. “But a greater evil dwells within the fortress. If anyone enters the ruins, the dead rise to attack them. And sometimes packs of the dead issue from the gates and drag the living within the walls.”
“The dead?” said Ridmark.
“Desiccated and dry,” said Rakhaag. “They reeked of dark magic.”
“Not dead, but undead,” said Calliande. “Urdmordar are thrifty creatures. Once they devour their victims, often they keep the corpses and use their black magic to raise them as
guardians.”
“Evil magic,” said Rakhaag.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “That is your true foe, Rakhaag. Not the arachar, the orcs with tainted blood. Not the traitors within Aranaeus who sold their neighbors to the urdmordar. They are only the tools of Agrimnalazur. She is the one who has taken your females and young, and if we do not stop her, she will feast upon them all.”
“Then we are extinct,” said Rakhaag.
“Extinct?” said Ridmark.
“Most of our females and young were taken,” said Rakhaag. “Not enough females remain to sustain our numbers. Soon we will fall victim to disease and the hunt and old age. Our numbers shall dwindle, and we shall only be a memory.”
“Unless we retrieve your females and children from Urd Arowyn,” said Ridmark.
“We cannot,” said Rakhaag. “You cannot. The True People cannot defeat an urdmordar. We can only flee from them.”
“The men of Andomhaim have defeated the urdmordar,” said Ridmark.
“When they had magic,” said Rakhaag. “The great memory knows this. You have no magic, Ridmark son of Leogrance. You have no way to harm an urdmordar.”
“The Staffbearer has magic,” said Ridmark.
Again Rakhaag looked away, his yellow eyes focusing on Calliande. “Is your magic strong enough to slay an urdmordar, Staffbearer?”
Calliande stood with her chin raised, like a queen addressing her subjects. “I will not lie to you, Rakhaag son of Balhaag son of Talhaag. I have magic, but it is not enough to kill an urdmordar. Not without help.”
“Then it is futile,” said Rakhaag. “The True People must withdraw from these hills, and hunt until death takes us.” His rasping voice was heavy with sorrow.
“No,” said Ridmark.
Rakhaag snarled, slashing at the air with a clawed hand. “What would you have us do? We cannot defeat the urdmordar.”
“No,” said Ridmark again, “but we need not kill Agrimnalazur to get your kin back, do we? We need only enter Urd Arowyn and escape with them.”
Rakhaag blinked. “What do you mean?”
“It is simple,” said Ridmark. “We will enter Urd Arowyn in disguise, find a way to rescue the prisoners, and escape with them.”
“Madness,” said Rakhaag. “You will almost certainly perish in such an attempt.”
“Indeed,” said Ridmark. “And you might as well. But you are going to die anyway, are you not? How do you want to die, Rakhaag? Alone in the wilderness, dying of old age and hunger, the last of the True People?”
Rakhaag growled, stepping closer.
“Ridmark,” said Calliande.
“Or,” said Ridmark, “would you rather die fighting to free your females and young from lives of slavery? Those are the choices before you. I am going to Urd Arowyn, and I am going to free the prisoners or die trying. I would have you accompany us, if you would.”
“To what end?” said Rakhaag.
“Many hands,” said Ridmark, “make for light work.”
Actually, he was not sure what the lupivirii could do. He needed to have a look at Urd Arowyn before he decided upon a plan of action. Nevertheless, their aid would be useful. The arachar were fearsome fighters, but so were the lupivirii.
Rakhaag said nothing. For the first time Ridmark saw hints of doubt, even fear, on his thick features. The beastmen did not live long lives, and Rakhaag could not have been much older than Gavin. Now the alpha had to face terrible foes, make decisions that could kill every member of his pack. Even the great memory could not offer much guidance.
“Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag. “You were a friend to the True People, long ago. What is your counsel? What should we do?”
Calliande took a deep breath. “I do not presume to command you.”
“But we shall heed your counsel,” said Rakhaag.
“Then my counsel is that you should follow Ridmark,” said Calliande. “If anyone can find a way to free your kin, Ridmark can do it. He has defeated great foes in the past.”
For a long time Rakhaag said nothing, his eyes closed. The other lupivirii had their eyes closed as well. Ridmark suspected they were communicating without speech, using the strange telepathy of their kindred.
At last Rakhaag’s eyes opened.
“So be it,” said the lupivir alpha. “We will follow you, Ridmark son of Leogrance son of Rience, because the Staffbearer has spoken for you.”
“Then we shall go into battle together,” said Ridmark, “and meet victory or death as one.”
“What do you wish us to do?” said Rakhaag.
“For now, travel north with us,” said Ridmark. “We follow the trail of the arachar to Urd Arowyn. But your senses are keener than ours, and I would like your packs to scout around us, to keep watch for any arachar.”
“If they approach, we shall kill them,” said Rakhaag.
“Or wound them, and then question them,” said Ridmark. “The more we know about our foes, the better.”
“Words,” spat Rakhaag. “Mere words. What good are words? Deeds are better.”
“True,” said Ridmark, “but the right words at the right time might save your kin. We had best be on our way. I hope to make at least another ten miles before dark.”
“So be it,” said Rakhaag, and the lupivirii vanished into the trees.
###
Calliande watched the beastmen depart, and she heard Ridmark let out a long breath.
She looked at him as he wiped sweat from his forehead, despite the chill from the spring day. He had been less certain than he shown.
“Remind me,” said Calliande, “to never gamble with you.”
“Why is that?” said Ridmark.
“Because your face,” said Calliande, “rarely shows anything at all of your thoughts.”
To her surprise, he smiled. “Useful in a negotiation, is it not? And I am surprised you are averse to gambling with me. You’ve done nothing else since we rescued you from the standing stones.”
“I suppose you are right,” said Calliande.
“Thank you,” said Ridmark. “I do not think I could have persuaded Rakhaag on my own.”
“Do you have a plan?” said Calliande.
“Not yet,” said Ridmark.
She frowned. “Then have I just told Rakhaag to take his kindred to their deaths?”
“They would have died in any event,” said Ridmark, “but I am not that callous. If Rakhaag flees and does nothing, his pack will eventually die out. If we go to Urd Arowyn and fight, perhaps we yet have a chance of freeing both his kin and the villagers of Aranaeus.”
“Then you have a way to succeed?” said Calliande.
“Maybe,” said Ridmark. “I would prefer to avoid facing Agrimnalazur altogether. If we can get the captives away without alerting her, that would be best.”
“A difficult task,” said Calliande.
“Aye,” said Ridmark with a shrug, “but all things worth doing are difficult, all they not?”
Chapter 14 - Urd Arowyn
Four days later, they came to the foothills of the mountains, and Ridmark Arban looked upon the walls of Urd Arowyn.
Little wonder the lupivirii feared the place.
Ridmark had rarely seen a stronger fortress.
A flat-topped foothill rose at the edge of one of the mountains, its crest encircled by a white stone wall like a rampart made of gleaming bones. With the wall Ridmark saw the crumbling shapes of dark elven towers, constructed with strange, alien angles. A massive round tower, at least a hundred and fifty feet tall, rose from the heart of the ruins. A small culvert had been built in the base of the wall, and a waterfall fell in a brilliant white spray down two hundred feet of cliffs. Urd Arowyn had its own supply of water, and space enough within the walls to grow crops to support Agrimnalazur’s slaves. The fortress blocked off a narrow meadow climbing the side of the mountain, offering even more space for crops and herds.
And Ridmark saw green-skinned figures in armor patrolling the outer wall and sta
nding watch over the ruined gates.
Arachar orcs.
“Well,” murmured Caius, “getting in there is going to be something of a challenge.”
Ridmark nodded.
They stood concealed in the trees on the far side of the valley, the waterfall’s stream flowing between them and the dark elven ruin. Ridmark wanted to move closer for a better look, but he dared not. Too much movement, and the guards might notice him.
Calliande, Kharlacht, and Caius stood at his left, Gavin and Rosanna at stood at his right, Father Martel behind them. Rosanna gazed at the walls with wide eyes, while Gavin’s expression was hard. Ridmark saw Gavin reach for her hand and stop himself.
“I think they’re building something on the walls,” said Caius, squinting.
“Siege engines, it looks like,” said Ridmark. “Ballistae and catapults. In case any passing orcs or kobolds decided to raid.”
Caius snorted. “Only foolish raiders would challenge the stronghold of an urdmordar.”
“Yes, like us,” said Ridmark.
He knew the villagers of Aranaeus were within the walls of Urd Arowyn. The trail led right to the gates of the ruin. They had found a score of dead villagers scattered over the last few days. They had been very old or very young, unable to survive the rigors of a long journey across the wild.
So the arachar had left them to die.
They would pay for that. If Ridmark could find a way to make them pay.
He turned as Rakhaag glided towards them, moving without sound. For all their size and speed, the lupivirii could move with terrifying silence.
“We have arrived,” said Rakhaag.
“So we have,” said Ridmark.
“The scent goes right to Urd Arowyn, just as you claimed,” said Rakhaag. “Yet there is no sign of my kin. Where are they?”
“Likely within the walls,” said Ridmark. “I suspect your females and young are harder to control than orcish and human slaves. Most likely Agrimnalazur put them into the death sleep and secured them within her larder.”
“Then why do I not smell them?” said Rakhaag. The muscles on his legs and arms thickened, black fur covering more of his pale hide as he started to shift fully into beast form.
Frostborn: The Eightfold Knife Page 18