“It is not too late,” said Ridmark, “which is why I have come here.”
“Pardon,” said Calliande, “but how do you know each other?”
Crowlacht gave Calliande the approving smile older men often gave pretty young women.
“You have followers, Ridmark?” said Crowlacht. “A warband of your own?” He craned his thick neck. “An…eclectic group.”
“They are,” said Ridmark, turning towards Morigna and the others. “This is Crowlacht, a headman of Rhaluusk and a sworn liegeman of the King of Rhaluusk. The King of Rhaluusk sent warbands to fight alongside the High King’s armies against Mhalek and his followers at Dun Licinia, and Crowlacht and his men were foremost among them.”
“Ha!” said Crowlacht. “The battle was your victory, my boy. If you hadn’t taken charge, the lords and the knights would have chased each other in circles.”
Ridmark ignored the compliment. “This is Calliande, a Magistria of the Order. Kharlacht, a warrior of Vhaluusk.”
Crowlacht’s eyes narrowed. “A follower of the blood gods? Or of that old fraud Mhalek?” A hint of the red orcish battle fury came into his black eyes.
“Neither,” said Kharlacht. “My mother had me baptized, and I hold to the teachings of the church.”
“Good man,” said Crowlacht.
“Morigna of Moraime, an expert hunter and tracker,” said Ridmark. He did not mention her magical abilities. Likely Crowlacht and his men would not have responded well. “Caius, a brother of the mendicant order.”
“A dwarven friar?” said Crowlacht. “I have never seen such a thing.”
“Well,” said Caius, “we do live in strange times. And if orcs can follow the Dominus Christus, why not the dwarves?”
Crowlacht laughed. “A good answer.”
“And this is Jager and Mara, both of Coldinium,” said Ridmark, “and Gavin, once of Aranaeus, a village in the Wilderland.” All three offered formal bows to the old headman, which seemed to amuse him to no end.
“A pleasure to meet you all,” said Crowlacht. “You must be men and women of wisdom and valor to follow the Gray Knight, to see past that ridiculous brand those fool nobles insisted upon giving him.” To Morigna’s amusement, he bowed over her hand and kissed her fingers, and did the same to Calliande and Mara. “And the ladies are lovely. At least for women who are too short, too skinny, and not green enough.”
“With such honey upon your tongue, my lord headman,” said Calliande, “you must have a dozen concubines waiting for you at home.”
His men laughed at that.
“What brings you to Vulmhosk, headman?” said Ridmark.
“War,” said Crowlacht. “The Mhorites of Kothluusk have been restless of late.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Ridmark.
“So the Dux of Durandis has called for aid,” said Crowlacht. “The King of Rhaluusk has agreed to send men, as have the Comes of Coldinium and the King of Khaluusk. My warband was sent to Coldinium to join the levees there. Then we shall march south, circle around the Lake of Battles, gather warbands from Khaluusk, and then return to Durandis to teach those Mhorite dogs a lesson.”
“Then you are heading east?” said Ridmark.
“Aye,” said Crowlacht. His scowl returned. “At least that was my plan. A pack of urvaalgs lurks outside the walls, and we have neither Swordbearers nor Magistri to fight them. We shall have to wait until the devils move on.” He looked at Calliande. “Unless, of course, the fair Magistria is willing to help us.”
Calliande opened her mouth to answer, but Ridmark spoke first. “If she does, would you consent to a favor?”
“Perhaps,” said Crowlacht. “What is it?”
“Merely that you entertain a proposal,” said Ridmark.
Crowlacht shrugged. “I see no harm in that.”
“Good,” said Ridmark. “The urvaalgs are dead. With the aid of Calliande’s magic, we slew them when we arrived at Vulmhosk.”
Crowlacht blinked, and then let out a booming laugh. “Clever as always! Well, then, Gray Knight. What is your proposal?”
“That we attack and sack the Iron Tower,” said Ridmark.
Dead silence fell over the orcs upon the porch.
“You are jesting,” said Crowlacht.
“I wish I was,” said Ridmark, “but I fear I am not.”
Crowlacht grunted. “Why? Have you turned against the High King?”
“No,” said Ridmark. “Rather, the Constable and his lord have turned against the High King, the realm, and the church itself. Where is Smiling Otto? I wish for him to hear the proposal as well.”
“In the tavern, overseeing his shabby little domain,” said Crowlacht. “Very well. You have piqued my interest. Though hope you have good reason for this.”
“He does,” said Calliande. “Headman, please believe me when I say the fate of Rhaluusk, Andomhaim, and the world may rest upon what we decide here.”
“Grim words,” said Crowlacht.
“They are,” said Caius, “but I fear she does not exaggerate in the slightest.”
“Then let us find Otto,” said Crowlacht, “and hear this proposal.”
###
Ridmark led the way into the cavernous tavern, his companions and Crowlacht and a few of the other orcish warriors following.
He had not expected to see the Rhaluuskan headman here, and Crowlacht’s appearance had brought back a storm of memories. The Battle of Dun Licinia had been a desperate day, made all the worse by the loss of the nobles and knights and Swordbearers that Mhalek had murdered during the parley. Then the sudden desperate hope as they won the battle, smashing the Mhalekite horde to pieces below the slopes of the Black Mountain. But then had come the news that Mhalek had fled southeast to Castra Marcaine, vowing to take vengeance upon the man who had thwarted him…
Ridmark remembered his conversation with Calliande and Morigna in the moment before the urvaalgs attacked, their claim that he only wanted to save Mara because he had failed to save Aelia.
Maybe they were right. But what of it? He knew he could not redeem himself for what he had done.
But that would not stop him from trying.
The tavern was empty, oddly enough. Crowlacht must have kept his men in their tents, perhaps to remain vigilant if the urvaalgs tried to go over the walls. Smiling Otto sat at his usual table, scowling. He was a halfling, his face gaunt, almost skull-like, his hair a tangled graying mass. He wore a ragged gray coat and trousers, his boots worn and dusty. A vicious scar went down the left side of his face, giving his eyelid a permanent droop and his lip a twisted, mocking smile.
He rarely smiled, and never looked surprised, but his bloodshot eyes widened as Ridmark approached.
“God and the apostles and all the saints,” said Otto in his gravelly rasp. “The Gray Knight himself. Still alive? I am astonished.”
“In all candor, so am I,” said Ridmark, standing over Otto’s table.
Otto chuckled. “Your mission must have been a success, then.” He looked at Kharlacht. “I see you cured your large friend.”
“Cured?” said Crowlacht.
“Wyvern venom,” said Kharlacht.
Crowlacht grunted. “No one can survive wyvern venom.”
“It is an extremely long story,” said Ridmark.
“I should like to hear it,” said Otto. “Since I expect you shall be here for a while. There is a pack of urvaalgs outside the walls, at least seven strong.”
“Closer to ten,” said Ridmark.
“You encountered them, then?” said Otto. “It is fortunate that you did not lose anyone to their talons. Crowlacht lost three strong warriors. We have neither Swordbearers nor Magistri among us, so we shall have to wait until they pass.” His eyes turned towards Calliande. “Though if your lovely Magistria would deign to…”
“There’s no need,” said Ridmark. “Our lovely Magistria has already put her magic to use. We slew the urvaalgs on our way into Vulmhosk.”
“Ah,” said
Otto. “Splendid. What shall you charge for this little service?”
“Nothing,” said Ridmark. “In fact, I shall give you an opportunity to join a profitable venture.”
“I am most curious,” said Otto.
“To sack the Iron Tower and raid its treasury,” said Ridmark.
Silence answered him.
“Why not?” said Otto. “After that, why don’t we attack Tarlion and carry off the High King’s crown and sword? Or steal one of the thirteen moons and keep it in a glass jar? That would almost be easier.”
“Such an act would be treason,” said Crowlacht. “The Dux of Caerdracon holds the Iron Tower as a vassal of the High King.”
“You know who I am,” said Ridmark. “You know what I have done. More to the point, you know what I set out to do.”
“The Frostborn,” said Otto.
“I don’t know why they are returning or how, but I know who will accomplish it,” said Ridmark. “Shadowbearer.”
“A myth of the dark elves,” said Otto.
“He is not,” said Calliande. “I met him.”
“As have I,” said Kharlacht.
“And I pray that you never meet him,” said Calliande.
“The ancient lore of Rhaluusk speaks of the bearer of shadow,” said Crowlacht. “In the days before the coming of the High King, when we were yet slaves of the blood gods and the dark elves, the dark elves feared and revered the bearer of shadow. For he brought them power, great power,” Morigna watched the orcish headman, her black eyes keen, “but his power always came with a cruel price.”
“Shadowbearer has been a force for evil in this world long before humans ever came to what is now Andomhaim,” said Ridmark. He gestured at Otto and Crowlacht. “Before even the halfling and orcish kindreds came to this world. For if the ancient tales are true, it was the bearer of shadow who taught the dark elven wizards of old to open doors to other worlds, to summon other kindreds as their slaves and soldiers. And he is still active and working evil today.”
Otto grunted. “So what evil does he intend to work?”
“He acquired an empty soulstone,” said Ridmark.
Crowlacht blinked. “Do not the swords of the Swordbearers have soulstones in their blades?”
“They do,” said Ridmark. “It is the source of their power.”
“Then an empty one would be useless,” said Otto.
“No,” said Calliande. “Empty soulstones are only found in the city of Cathair Solas, for only the high elves have the knowledge of their making. In the hands of a wizard of sufficient skill, an empty soulstone can become…almost anything, really. A weapon of terrible power.”
“So Shadowbearer wants this wizardly tool to…bring back the Frostborn, is that it?” said Crowlacht.
“You have it true,” said Ridmark. “We took it from Shadowbearer’s minions outside of Dun Licinia, but lost it soon after.” He saw Jager tense. No doubt the halfling feared that Ridmark would reveal his part in the theft, but they had larger concerns. “Sir Paul Tallmane took it to the Iron Tower, and is holding it there.”
Otto snorted. “I know the noble Constable. He is a brutal and mindless thug, but easy enough to bribe. I have made quite a bit of money smuggling supplies to the soldiers of the Tower. So why would he traffic with this dark wizard of legend?”
“Have you ever heard of the Enlightened of Incariel?” said Ridmark.
Smiling Otto and Crowlacht shared a look.
“You have heard the name, then?” said Ridmark.
“That was the title of the great void the dark elves worshipped in the days of old,” said Crowlacht, crossing himself, “though I shall not speak it out loud.” He looked at Ridmark, his lined face impassive behind his tusks. “And in recent years, there have been…rumors about the nobility of Andomhaim.”
“What kind of rumors?” said Ridmark.
“Ever since the War of Five Princes,” said Crowlacht, “many of the nobles and Magistri and Swordbearers have grown…cruel, indifferent to their duties. Such foolishness is not permitted in Rhaluusk, of course, for we are loyal subjects of the High King and zealous sons of the church. But some say that the nobles of Andomhaim have turned away from the Dominus Christus to worship a darker power.”
“I have heard similar tales,” said Otto, “though I did not think you would credit them, Gray Knight. Many who come to the Wilderland and to my establishment are fleeing trouble in the High King’s realm. Some of them told stories of a cult that met in secret places, a cult that swore oaths to dark powers and killed any who knew of their existence. They fled to Vulmhosk and then deeper into the Wilderland to avoid this cult.”
“Five years ago I would not have believed such rumors,” said Ridmark. “Even a year ago. But I have seen these Enlightened of Incariel. I have heard their boasts and their declarations. And they have tried to kill me repeatedly. Paul Tallmane is among their number. His liege Tarrabus Carhaine holds high rank among the Enlightened.”
Perhaps even the highest rank, though Ridmark did not know it for certain.
“The Dux of Caerdracon is one of the most powerful men in the realm,” said Crowlacht.
“And you were right about the Magistri as well, Master Otto,” said Calliande. “My lord headman, I have seen two Magistri who turned to the Enlightened. One named Alamur, a Magistrius of Dun Licinia. The second a Magistrius named Coriolus who fled to the Wilderland, where he…”
“He murdered my mother and father,” said Morigna, “and the slew the man I would have wed.”
“And the Enlightened serve Shadowbearer,” said Ridmark. “Shadowbearer wishes to restore the Frostborn to this world, even though they were destroyed. That is why Paul and the Enlightened are keeping the soulstone in the Iron Tower. In a few days Shadowbearer will arrive to take it…and the Frostborn will return.”
Ridmark decided to tell them nothing of Mara and the Artificer, at least not yet. If Crowlacht knew what Mara really was, he might try to kill her out of hand. Otto might refuse to have anything to do with them.
“You realize what you are asking,” said Crowlacht. “You want us to take arms against a castra of the High King, to make war against one of his vassals.”
“No,” said Ridmark. “I am asking you to make war against a traitor, against a man who has betrayed both the church and the High King. I am asking you to help me stop Shadowbearer from restoring the Frostborn. You both know I have sought the secret of the Frostborn for years. Well, the answer is right in front of us, and the hour is now. The fate of the realm and the world depends upon the decision we make. And if that is not enough, I am asking you to become rich.”
Otto snorted. “Rich? Just how shall you achieve that?”
“Tarrabus Carhaine keeps part of his treasury secured in the Iron Tower,” said Ridmark. “You can have it. All I want from the Tower is the soulstone.” And the jade bracelet, but Ridmark had no doubt Mara could retrieve it. “If you doubt my surety, take this as proof.”
“Take what, precisely?” said Otto, amused. “You are a fell warrior, Gray Knight, but you are a penniless wanderer. You do not have a single copper coin to your name.”
“I disagree,” said Ridmark. “I spent years wandering the Wilderland, looking for lore about the Frostborn. I looked in dark elven ruins, burned villages, abandoned dwarven strongholds, anywhere.” He reached into his jerkin and drew out a leather pouch and tossed it upon the table. “I didn’t find what I sought…but I found a few other things.”
Otto frowned, opened the pouch, and his eyes went wide at the glitter of rubies.
“God and the saints!” said Jager, his voice awed. “You’ve been carrying that around with you the entire time?”
“You can split that,” said Ridmark. “There is more, if you like. I have caches hidden throughout the Wilderland, and I can tell you how to find a few of them.”
“You could have retired in comfort years ago,” said Otto, examining one of the rubies. “Where did you find these?”
>
“An abandoned dvargir mine,” said Ridmark. “The Frostborn destroyed it, and a tribe of deep orcs had taken it over. I thought the dvargir might have records of the Frostborn. They didn’t, but I found the gems instead.”
“You could have returned to Andomhaim,” said Otto, handing the pouch to Crowlacht, who began counting out gems. “You could have taken a new name and lived in luxury in Cintarra. Or simply bribed the appropriate lords and had your exile lifted. Why?” He looked at Ridmark, bewilderment on his lined face. “Why wander the Wilderland?”
“I could have returned to Andomhaim,” said Ridmark, “but the Frostborn are coming back, whether you believe me or not. Unless Shadowbearer is stopped, they are returning. You both know the history of the realm. You know the High King and the Swordbearers and the Magistri barely defeated the Frostborn the first time. What do you think will happen if they return?”
Again Crowlacht and Otto shared a look.
“I believe you, Gray Knight,” said Crowlacht, “and doubt not your word or your honor, unlike the foolish lords of Andomhaim. But even if we agree to your venture, how shall we accomplish it? I have two hundred men, all valiant fighters, and I expect Otto can scrape together a hundred mercenaries. But the Iron Tower is a strong fortress. We cannot possibly storm it. We cannot even besiege it.”
“You can,” said Ridmark, “if the gates are opened from within.”
Both Calliande and Morigna looked at him. No doubt they had guessed his plan.
“Do you have a friend within the curtain wall?” said Otto.
“No,” said Ridmark. “But I saw your docks on the way to the gate. You have a boat going to the Iron Tower soon, do you not?” Otto said nothing. “I propose that Crowlacht’s men and your mercenaries take cover in the trees north of the Iron Tower. If you are observed and questioned, you can say you are on your way to Coldinium and then to Durandis for the Dux’s muster against the Mhorites.”
“And you will hide aboard the boat and sneak into the Tower with the supplies,” said Crowlacht. “Bold. I like it!”
Frostborn: The Iron Tower Page 16