“An ambitious plan,” said Ridmark. “Though that leaves one question. What will you do with us?”
“Why, we shall play a little game, you and I,” said Agrimnalazur, rolling her shoulders. Now she looked like an attractive woman in her thirties, strong and vigorous, her red hair like a banner of blood-colored flame.
“And what game is that?” said Ridmark. “Shall we roll dice? Play cards?”
“A better game,” said Agrimnalazur. “A game of secrets. You have impressed me, Gray Knight, and few of the human vermin ever do. Your race has such a short, feeble memory, and forgets so many things of importance from generation to generation. How you must crave secrets, for they are more valuable than any treasure! You may ask me two questions, and I shall answer them freely, without prevarication or misdirection.”
“Before I ask my questions,” said Ridmark, “suppose I ask you to let us go?”
Agrimnalazur smiled. “You may ask for secrets. Not favors.”
“Very well,” said Ridmark. Even though he was likely about to die, he still wanted to know things. The Frostborn were returning, and if Agrimnalazur knew how to find proof, one of the others might be able to carry warning back to the realm.
“Tell me about the Frostborn,” he said at last.
“Ah,” said Agrimnalazur, teeth flashing white in her pale face. Now she looked like she was in her middle twenties, young and beautiful and fit. “That is a statement, not a question. But that is what you want to know, is it not? I heard you speak to the Magistria and the dwarven priest in the village. You seek the return of the Frostborn, how to stop it. Is that what you wish to know?”
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “That is what I wish to know.”
Odd that he felt more foreboding about what she would say than his own impending death.
Agrimnalazur shrugged. “I know very little about the Frostborn. We once ruled most of this world, my sisters and I,” she offered a thin smile, “but your Magistri and Swordbearers put an end to our domination five centuries past. When the Frostborn appeared two and a half centuries ago, we were already in hiding, and took little part in their conflict against your High King.”
She fell silent, and Ridmark wondered if that was her answer, and started to ask his second question. But Agrimnalazur shook her head, and Ridmark realized something.
She was afraid. For all her power and dark magic, she was afraid of the Frostborn.
“The elves are the only kindred truly native to this world, you know,” said Agrimnalazur. “They began here. None of the rest of us did. When the elves sundered into the high elves and the dark elves, the dark elves opened gates to other worlds and summoned the other kindreds to serve as their slaves and their soldiers. Then, of course, the dark elves summoned my sisters.” She grinned, her green eyes flashing. “That did not end well for them.”
“As we are standing in their ruins,” said Ridmark, “plainly not.”
“But the Frostborn came later, after we enslaved the dark elves and you humans arrived,” said Agrimnalazur. “I do not know where the Frostborn originated. Some of my sisters think they came from the lands far to the north of here, the lands where the winter never ceases. Others think they come from a world alien to this one, as we did. I know not which is the truth,” she shrugged, “and I care not. All I know is that their return shall entomb the world in ice, and only the strong and clever shall survive.”
“I already knew that,” said Ridmark.
“Did you? Then did you know this?” said Agrimnalazur. “The omen of blue fire a month past? That heralded their return.” She laughed. “Just as your scriptures record that the Baptist proceeded the birth of your Dominus Christus upon Old Earth.”
“I know that as well,” said Ridmark. “The Warden told me.”
“What he did not tell you,” said Agrimnalazur, “is that their return will happen within a year and a month of the omen of blue flame.”
Ridmark nodded, thinking. “And if that is true, that means their return can be stopped within a year and a month.”
“Not that it matters,” said Agrimnalazur. “That is all I will tell you about the Frostborn. Now. Your second question.”
“The Enlightened of Incariel,” said Ridmark. “What do you know about them?”
“The larder of the humans,” said Agrimnalazur.
Now she looked no more than eighteen, a young woman at the height of her beauty, her eyes shining, her red hair long and thick. She had the sort of beauty that would intoxicate men and inspire poets and sculptors to greatness.
But it did not touch Ridmark.
He knew what she would really look like.
“The larder of the humans?” said Ridmark.
“Just as I prepared a larder for withstand the winter of the Frostborn,” said Agrimnalazur, “so too are the Enlightened of Incariel a preparation. They worship the great void of the dark elves, but under a different name. They think to use magic to elevate themselves from prey to predators.” She laughed. “They will fail, of course. They are fools, and deluded ones. But fools with power, and they will put that power to use.”
“They’ll try to take over Andomhaim?” said Ridmark.
“They already have,” said Agrimnalazur. “Your High King’s realm is rotten, Gray Knight, like a tree hollowed out by corruption. So many of your knights and lords and Magistri have taken oaths to Incariel in secret. When the storm comes, when the clouds cover the sun and ice chokes the earth, the tree will fall and all the maggots will come swarming out.”
“More poetry?” said Ridmark.
“Now,” said Agrimnalazur, “it is time for my question.”
Ridmark nodded. He expected her to ask about Aelia, about Mhalek, something about the darkness in his past.
“Join me,” said Agrimnalazur.
Ridmark blinked. “What?”
“Serve me,” said Agrimnalazur. She took a step forward, the black gown flowing around the curves of her body, “I have consumed and enslaved more of your kindred than I can recall. But never have I seen a warrior of your boldness and skill.” She raised her hands, gesturing at the flames around them. “All this you wrought with no magic and no real weapons! Only your wits and the strength of your arm. Of all the humans I have seen, you are the worthiest to serve me.”
“You must be mad,” said Ridmark. “After all the blood and death you have worked, you expect me to join to help you to work more?”
“Yes,” said Agrimnalazur. Her voice dropped to a low purr. “But you would help me save them, Gray Knight. All the little villagers who concern you so very much. If I let them go, they will all die when the Frostborn return. Join me, and they can sleep away the centuries, secure in my larder.” She took another step closer. “And there will be rewards for you, as well. I can make you immortal, stronger and faster than any man. I can give you pleasures beyond anything you have ever experienced. All you need to do is serve me.”
“Bow down before you,” said Ridmark, “and you will give me dominion over all the kingdoms of the world, is that it? No. And even if I would accept such an offer, I shall not back the losing side. You’re running from the Frostborn, Agrimnalazur. You’re going to spend centuries hiding in a hole while ice chokes the earth. That is hardly an appealing prospect.”
The smile faded from her beautiful face. “You are certain?”
Ridmark took a deep breath and braced himself. “Yes.”
“Pity,” said Agrimnalazur. “Most of your kindred would rather live as slaves than perish as a free man. You, it seems, are one of the few who would prefer to die a free man rather than live as a slave, even as a slave with gilded shackles.”
“I have stained my soul with enough crimes already,” said Ridmark. “No need to add any further to it.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. “As you wish. I cannot understand your madness, but I can respect it. You have faced death with great courage for a herd animal. Let us see if you can face it with courage for
the final time.”
Agrimnalazur took one final step forward, and she changed.
Her body swelled to immensity, becoming an armored spider the size of two oxen, covered in crimson chitin like armor plating. Eight knobbed legs arched from her flanks, each one as thick as Ridmark’s body and tipped with a claw the length of a sword, the edges gleaming with poison. The torso, arms, and head of a human woman of unearthly beauty rose from the front of the spider’s abdomen, covered in more plates of red chitin. Foot-long claws tipped the long, distended fingers, gleaming with more venom.
The true form of a female urdmordar
All eight of Agrimnalazur’s glowing eyes fell upon Ridmark, and he felt the power of her will like a hammer blow.
He should never have come here. He should never have brought the others here. He ought to have gone alone to Urd Morlemoch.
Agrimnalazur charged at him in a crimson blur.
Ridmark ran to meet her, staff in his right hand, axe in his left, and a curious sense of peace settled over him.
For over five years, he had sought the answer to the return of the Frostborn, but he had also sought his own death in battle, in repayment for the blood of Aelia.
And, at last, Ridmark had found someone capable of giving him that death.
He ran to meet it.
Chapter 22 - Staff and Dagger
Agrimnalazur’s unveiled power washed over Calliande like a storm.
Every instinct screamed for her to run. A female urdmordar wielded dark magic with the ease of a shark swimming through water, and while a man might learn to swim, he would never outrun a shark. No Magistria had ever defeated an urdmordar without the aid of other Magistri and the Swordbearers.
Ridmark had defeated a female urdmordar in single combat.
But he had been a Swordbearer then, and now he had only his staff and axe.
Agrimnalazur charged Ridmark, moving with eerie silence and speed despite her bulk. Chaos erupted through the plaza as the lupivirii fled in panic, howling in fear. Calliande could not blame them, and even if she had commanded them as the Staffbearer, they would not have stayed.
The scent of a female urdmordar would drive them mad with terror.
Agrimnalazur reared up, preparing to stab her clawed legs through Ridmark’s chest.
Calliande flung up her hands and threw all her power into a spell. White fire hammered out and drove into the side of Agrimnalazur’s abdomen, striking the great spider-devil with enough force to flip her onto her side. Her spell attacked Agrimnalazur’s black magic, assailing the dark power that permeated the creature.
And it barely made the urdmordar’s power flicker.
Agrimnalazur was just too strong.
“Go!” roared Ridmark, slashing at Agrimnalazur’s flank with his axe. The orcish blade opened her armored chitin, black slime bubbling forth. But the wounds healed almost instantly. Mere mortal steel could not permanently harm a female urdmordar, could not even slow her down. “I’ll hold her! Go, damn you, go!”
“No!” said Calliande, throwing another burst of white flame into Agrimnalazur.
In one smooth, graceful motion, the urdmordar regained her feet and gestured at Calliande.
A wall of black flame erupted from her clawed fingers.
###
Gavin watched the fight in horror.
Old Agnes had been Agrimnalazur. Kindly, confused old Agnes, who had wandered the streets singing snatches of songs and telling rambling stories about the past. The entire time she had been walking among them like a wolf among sheep.
Or a farmer walking among his pigs, deciding which one to slaughter.
Agrimnalazur threw a wall of black flame at Calliande, and a shield of white light shimmered around the Magistria. The tide of dark fire slammed into her, and the impact drove her back, her magical shield buckling beneath the onslaught.
She was going to die. Ridmark was going to die.
They were all going to die.
And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
Gavin wished he could have seen Rosanna one last time. He wished he had sent Philip away. Perhaps Philip and Rosanna could have escaped Aranaeus before Agrimnalazur returned to put her herd into order once more.
Ridmark wheeled to face Agrimnalazur, slashing with his axe, and Gavin found himself running towards the Gray Knight.
He was screaming at the top of his lungs, Philip at his side, bellowing as he brandished his hammer.
They were all going to die here. Perhaps it had been inevitable. But, by God and all his saints, Gavin intended to die fighting. He would not live as Cornelius had lived, dancing on Morwen’s strings. He would die with his courage intact.
He hoped his mother would be proud of him.
A deep voice roared in fury, and he saw Kharlacht running nearby, his dark elven greatsword in hand. Caius was behind him, brown robes billowing, crucifix bouncing against his chest.
Then the great crimson bulk of the urdmordar rose before him, and Gavin had no more time for thought.
###
Calliande struggled as the black fires snarled against her ward.
It was not truly fire, not really. The shadow fire did not burn, but would suck away the life and the warmth from her.
It took all of Calliande’s power to hold it at bay. She dared not turn a single scrap of her magic from defense, not without Agrimnalazur’s magic killing her.
Yet the urdmordar did not seem drained in the slightest. Through the blaze of competing magic Calliande saw Agrimnalazur fighting Ridmark and the others. With her superior strength and speed, she would kill them all in a matter of moments unless Calliande distracted her with a magical attack.
Yet Calliande could not even hold back Agrimnalazur’s spell.
The dark flames closed around her.
###
Ridmark hit Agrimnalazur again and again. Every blow from the axe crunched through her chitin, drawing black blood.
And the wounds disappeared at once.
Normal steel could not harm an urdmordar, but Agrimnalazur’s talons could harm Ridmark. He just barely dodged her attacks. She needed no strategy, no tactics, to finish him. Her immortal stamina would outlast his, and she need only wait until he tired and stumbled.
And then she would kill him.
At least he had bought time for the others to get away.
Kharlacht and Gavin and the others charged at the urdmordar, howling like madmen. Gavin’s sword bit into one of Agrimnalazur’s legs, while Philip’s hammer snapped off one of her talons. Caius’s mace crushed a plate of chitin.
Agrimnalazur only laughed.
Her wounds disappeared as she blurred into motion. A sweep of her legs knocked Gavin and Philip from their feet. A backhand flung Caius into the air, sent him rolling across the ground a dozen yards away. Ridmark barely dodged a blow that would have opened his torso. Agrimnalazur stalked after him, her claws rattling against the ground.
Kharlacht swung his greatsword with all his strength, opening a deep gash on her right side.
The wound sizzled, and Agrimnalazur screamed in surprise.
###
The fires around Calliande flickered, the dark magic unraveling.
She did not hesitate, but threw all her power into a ward. The shadow flames howled, flickered, and went out. Calliande ran forward, raising her hands, and summoned more power, trying to ignore the weariness that washed through her.
More brilliant fire drilled into Agrimnalazur, throwing the urdmordar back several yards.
###
Ridmark caught his balance as Calliande’s blast knocked Agrimnalazur over, the urdmordar’s legs tangling around each other. Every wound that Ridmark and Caius and Gavin and Philip had dealt to the urdmordar had vanished. But the gash that Kharlacht’s sword had left down her flank had not vanished. It was shrinking rapidly, but slower than the wounds dealt by normal steel.
Dark elven steel had the power to wound an urdmordar, but not to kill one. Only
powerful magic could do that. But if Kharlacht’s sword could wound Agrimnalazur badly enough, it would give the others more time to escape.
“Kharlacht!” shouted Ridmark, and the orc’s red-glazed eyes turned toward him. “Strike at her legs. Try to slow her!”
Kharlacht nodded, and they charged at the urdmordar as Agrimnalazur regained her balance. Ridmark attacked, lashing with his axe, and Agrimnalazur slashed at him. He jerked back, the tips of her talons blurring before his face. Kharlacht stepped into the opening and swung, carving another smoking groove across her abdomen. Another blast of white fire shot over Ridmark’s shoulder and hit Agrimnalazur, her legs skittering as she kept her balance.
She snarled in fury and flung out her hands, black fire crackling around her clawed fingers. There was a pulse of darkness, and invisible force exploded from her in all directions. The blast caught Ridmark, threw him hard to the white flagstones of the plaza. He bounced a few times, rolled, and came back to his feet, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his arms and legs.
Agrimnalazur wheeled and flung another blast of dark fire at Calliande.
###
Calliande braced herself and cast a spell, a new idea coming to her.
She was not strong enough to block Agrimnalazur’s attacks for long. She had the power to hurt the urdmordar, but she dared not spare any power from her wards.
But perhaps that was the wrong approach.
Perhaps she could use Agrimnalazur’s vast might against her, just as Ridmark had used the spiderlings’ traps against them in the ruins of Urd Dagaash.
Black fire hammered into Calliande, and rather than trying to block it, she redirected it. The force flung her backwards, and she stumbled and fell, her head ringing from the exertion. Yet her ward shimmered around her like a mirrored dome, and the spell caught Agrimnalazur’s attack and flung it back at her.
Frostborn: The Eightfold Knife Page 27