For a moment the shadow said nothing, and Morigna felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps Coriolus had overstepped himself, and Shadowbearer would kill both him and Jonas. Maybe she could yet escape…
“Well,” said Shadowbearer at last. “Ambition and competence rarely go hand in hand. Isn’t that right, Jonas Vorinus?”
“Master,” said Jonas. Unlike Coriolus, he simply looked terrified. “I will do as you bid.”
“But you have done well, Coriolus,” said Shadowbearer. “The Gray Knight and the Magistria are far more dangerous than you know.”
“Forgive me, Master,” said Coriolus, “but like you, I knew Calliande in the days before the defeat of the Frostborn. I knew just how dangerous she was, and I did not take her threat lightly.”
“It appears not,” said Shadowbearer. “You have pleased me, Coriolus. Soon I shall join you, and you will present the empty soulstone to me. And if you have indeed imprisoned Ridmark Arban and Calliande as you said, I shall reward you most richly.”
“And if I have not,” said Coriolus, “my life is forfeit?”
“I am pleased that we understand each other.”
“He could not have done it without my help, Master!” said Jonas. “I lured Ridmark Arban into his path, I…”
“I am sure you were most effective,” said Shadowbearer, a mocking note in that twofold voice. “Tell me. Of the six brothers of the Red Family who accompanied you to Moraime, how many yet live?”
A muscle worked in Jonas’s jaw. “One. Maybe. I am…uncertain what became of Rotherius. He might have survived.”
“Indeed?” said Shadowbearer. “I care only for results. But the Red Family might grow a touch irritated with you, Jonas. The Dux paid a great deal of gold to those assassins. I imagine both the Matriarch of the Family and the Dux will be quite annoyed with you. But fear not. I am sure they are most forgiving of weakness.”
Jonas said nothing, the muscle still twitching.
“I shall do as you say, Master,” said Coriolus.
“Your new host,” said Shadowbearer, and Morigna’s skin crawled. She felt an unseen presence focusing upon her. A malignant will and power, regarding her with eyes wrought from something other than flesh. “I see you have not claimed her yet.”
“No, Master,” said Coriolus. “It seem only proper to inform you of my victory before claiming the spoils.”
“Indeed,” said Shadowbearer. “Let us take a closer look, shall we?”
Coriolus’s shadow rotated and fell over Morigna.
She screamed. She had loathed the touch of Coriolus’s fingers upon her bare skin as he painted the sigils upon her legs and stomach. But the shadow felt worse, far worse, as if some vast creature of nightmare was staring at her through a keyhole, a creature that would snuff her out like a candle if it could just open the door.
Coriolus was strong, but he was nothing next to Shadowbearer’s power.
Part of her mind marveled at the power, and wondered what she could do if she wielded it herself, and for a moment she heard the shadow whispering in her ears…
“So you are the next vessel?” said Shadowbearer. “It is almost a pity you are about to claim her, Coriolus. If you could but see the shadows her past throw upon her future…ah, indeed.”
“With all respect, Master,” said Coriolus, “I am afraid I must insist upon claiming her as my vessel.” Jonas gaped at him. “If she has some quality you require, I will of course seek out another individual possessing that quality after I have claimed her.”
“Have no fear, Coriolus,” said the double voice, the strange shadow sliding off Morigna’s skin. She closed her eyes and shuddered in relief, grateful that the terrible thing was no longer touching her. “I have no wish to claim your prize. Clothe yourself in new flesh, and await my coming.”
“It shall be as you say, Master,” said Coriolus.
His shadow rippled and stretched, and then shrank back to normal.
“I cannot believe that you dared to be so impudent to the Master,” said Jonas, getting to his feet once more.
“That is because you are young and weak,” said Coriolus, raising his white eyebrows. “If you manage to survive long enough, you will come to understand that Shadowbearer cares only for success. Anything that furthers his goal of reshaping the world is worthy. Anything that hinders it…is to be removed.”
Jonas scowled, but nodded.
“Maintain watch,” said Coriolus. “I do not anticipate interference, but the amount of magical power I am about to summon may draw unwelcome attention. The corporeal undead and the wraiths should be more than capable of dealing with any intruders, along with my newest creation.”
“It is a…formidable creature,” said Jonas. “And after? Once you take your new body? What then?”
“We shall await Shadowbearer,” said Coriolus. “The Frostborn are soon returning, and the shape of the world will change. The Enlightened of Incariel shall rise high…along with those who have proven themselves to Shadowbearer. Perhaps even you, Jonas Vorinus, if you learn from your mistakes. Now do as I have commanded.”
Jonas hesitated, nodded, and then departed.
“How very gracious of you,” said Morigna. “I thought you would kill him.”
Coriolus shrugged. “Even the wisest man was once a young fool. And he may be useful to me in the future. Though if he annoys me too much I will simply kill him.” He picked up his pot and brush. “Meanwhile, I have work before me. Ah, but my knees ache. It will be good to be young again.”
He began painting a fresh row of sigils upon her stomach and arms. Morigna did not even bother to struggle. She knew it was over. He would expel her spirit from her flesh, and then take her body like a man donning a new suit of clothes.
What would happen to her then? Perhaps her spirit would dissipate into oblivion. Or perhaps Caius and Calliande were right in their faith, and her spirit would join her parents and Nathan and the Dominus Christus in paradise.
She rather doubted that. And even if it was true, she had hardly led a just life.
Morigna closed her eyes and waited for the end.
Chapter 19 - Riddles
Calliande drifted in her sleep, and her sleep she dreamed.
And as ever, the dreams frustrated her.
She saw things, but could never recall them.
A white city sitting by the sea, its walls and towers tall and strong and proud, the red dragon banner of the Pendragons flying from the ramparts. A great domed chamber of white and gold, a well of light at its heart. An old woman, kindly and wise, a staff of twisted oak in her right hand. A man, short and ugly and scarred, but a warrior with the courage and might of a dozen lions, and a voice like a trumpet that rallied armies to his shout.
He reminded her of Ridmark. Or did Ridmark remind her of him?
Sometimes those images brought joy and grief to her mind, though she knew not why.
But she saw darker things at well, and those images brought neither joy nor grief.
Only dread.
Giants clad in armor the color of gray ice, their skin like crystal, their eyes glowing with blue flame. Legions of twisted creatures marching before them, worshipping the icy giants as their gods. Cities burning to ash as snow fell upon them, and men and women and children freezing, collapsing as their blood turned to ice.
She would stop it, she vowed. She would make sure it never happened again, no matter what she had to do, no matter the cost to herself…
And then she saw the shadow.
It followed her thought the mists of the past, long and black and strong. It had hunted her across the centuries. It would never stop hunting.
“Calliande,” hissed the shadow, and she recognized that eerie double voice.
Shadowbearer.
“You are mine,” said Shadowbearer. “He said he had trapped you, but I believed him not. Yet here you are at last.”
Terror filled Calliande, and for a moment she quailed, remembering when the Mhalekite orcs had
held her naked and helpless before him. But her courage rallied. She was done running. She would help Ridmark stop the Frostborn from returning, and then she would defeat Shadowbearer once and for all.
“You cannot,” he said. “Once, that was within your power. But you maimed yourself. You made yourself weaker. And now you cannot stand against me.”
The fury filled Calliande.
“Come and face me, Incariel!” said Calliande. “I stopped you once before, and by God and the Dominus Christus, I shall stop you again!”
“No,” said Shadowbearer. “You shall not.”
The dream shivered and shattered into a thousand fragments.
When they reassembled, Calliande found herself standing alone upon a plain of featureless gray mist. It stretched endlessly in all directions, rippling and undulating.
No. Not alone.
She turned and looked upon the Watcher.
The spirit gazed back at her, his heavy eyes sad beneath gray eyebrows. He wore the white robe of the Magistri, tied about the waist with a black sash. He had left a message for her in the vault below the Tower of Vigilance, and had spoken in her dreams after her magic returned. He had warned her of the dangers of Urd Arowyn, of facing Agrimnalazur in battle.
“Watcher,” said Calliande.
The old man sighed. “You do have a knack for getting into trouble.”
“Apparently I have not changed from my previous life,” said Calliande, “when you knew me yet.”
“About that,” said the Watcher, “I cannot say.”
The Watcher could tell her of the present, and speak of generalities from the past. But he was forbidden from speaking about her past, specifically.
Apparently Calliande herself had forbidden him before she had gone into her long sleep, though she could not remember it.
“It was a perfect trap for you,” said the Watcher. “You could never turn aside from those in need. It seems that your Gray Knight cannot either. The undead to lure you in. The terrified townsmen asking for your protection.”
“And there was Coriolus, waiting for us,” said Calliande.
The Watcher nodded, his gray beard rusting against his shoulders. “I fear so.”
“I knew him,” said Calliande. “From before. Did I not?”
The Watcher said nothing, which was as good as an actual answer.
“Tell me about him,” said Calliande.
“You know I am forbidden to speak of your past,” said the Watcher.
“But the Eternalists arose after I went into the long sleep below the Tower of Vigilance,” said Calliande. “Therefore I know nothing of them, and you are free to speak.”
The Watcher bowed. “Fortunately, Calliande, your recklessness is matched only by your cleverness. Little wonder you are so taken with the Gray Knight. You have finally found someone whose recklessness is a match for your own.”
“Tell me of the Eternalists,” said Calliande. This was not the time to consider the twinge she felt whenever she thought of Ridmark.
“They are fools,” said the Watcher. “All men will one day die and face the judgment of their creator. The Eternalists denied this truth, and sought to use magic to change the nature of man, to make themselves immortal and eternal. Magic can extend life, true. So can sober living and regular exercise. But no magic can conquer death. The Eternalists sought to do this, and instead of immortality, they created horrors.”
“They tried to extend their lives, didn’t they?” said Calliande.
“They did so at first, successfully and in secret,” said the Watcher. “But no corporeal body lasts forever. In time, their mortal flesh started to fail…and so they had to claim the bodies of others.”
“As Talvinius did to that kobold, and tried to do to me,” said Calliande.
“Aye,” said the Watcher. “Some were more skilled than others. Talvinius, as you saw, could not manage to possess another human body, and had to claim a kobold. Others were more powerful. They grew reckless and desperate, fearing that death would claim them, and their experiments became bolder. Finally they drew notice, and the High King and the Magistri and the Swordbearers joined forces to expel the cancer from Andomhaim. The Eternalists were mostly killed, and those that survived fled into the Deeps or the Wilderland. It was a proud moment for the realm, when it was still strong to defend itself from foes within the walls.” The spirit slumped, as if weary. “But then the Enlightened of Incariel took root. The old High King died and the war of the five Pendragon princes began. And the Tower of Vigilance burned and I perished within it.”
“You’re telling me about my past now,” said Calliande.
“Not your past,” said the Watcher. “My past. You were asleep for that part.”
“I’m sorry,” said Calliande. “All that you say, the civil war and the Enlightened and the Eternalists…were they the work of Shadowbearer?”
“Yes,” said the Watcher. “Forgive me, Calliande, but you should not have gone into the long sleep. Shadowbearer has labored unceasingly for centuries while you slept. If you had not entered into the sleep like…”
“What?” said Calliande. “What would have done?”
“Forgive me,” said the Watcher, “but I cannot tell you. You…”
“Have forbidden it with my own words, yes, I know,” said Calliande. She thought for a moment. “The spell to claim the body of another. How does it work?”
“I do not know for certain, and am glad of that,” said the Watcher. “Nevertheless, I understand some of the general principles. It requires a tremendous quantity of magical power, more than most wizards can summon unaided. Additionally, it is extremely difficult to sever the bonds between the soul and the flesh without killing the new body. I suspect that is why Talvinius was able to possess a kobold, but not a human. Kobold souls have a different…geometry, for lack of a better word, than human souls. Likely Talvinius could master one kind of geometry and not another. Like a student able to learn one arithmetical equation but not two.”
“And that is why Coriolus killed Morigna’s parents and raised her,” said Calliande. “To…prepare her for a transference. To make solving the equation easier.”
“I fear so,” said the Watcher. “His crimes against the dark child are immense. He taught her magic, not to benefit her or to protect her, but to augment her magical ability so it would be easier to possess her. The dark child possesses strong magic, but insufficient skill to defend herself from Coriolus’s attack. You, too, would make a suitable host for the Eternalist, which is why Talvinius tried to possess you. But you have recovered the full powers of a Magistria, and you know how to use them. If Coriolus tried to possess you, he would be repulsed and likely killed.”
“You call her the dark child,” said Calliande. “Why?”
“Because she is dangerous, and you should not trust her,” said the Watcher. “She has much magic but little conscience. The only thing that has kept her from abusing her power has been a lack of opportunity. She would turn on you in a moment, I am sure, to increase her own magic.”
Calliande frowned. “She is what she is because of Coriolus’s blight upon her life. And she has seen him for the liar that he is.”
“A rabid wolf did not choose its affliction,” said the Watcher, “but is dangerous nonetheless.”
“Enough,” said Calliande. “I do not like her, I admit that. But she does not deserve this. She did not deserve to have her parents murdered, and did not deserve to be turned into an empty vessel for a scoundrel like Coriolus. If it is within my power, I will save her.”
The Watcher shook his head. “I suspected you would say that. Ah, Calliande.” He smiled. “Your heart blazes like a torch, like a brand in the darkness. Fearlessly you risk yourself, even for those who do not deserve it.”
“Fearlessly?” said Calliande. “Perhaps you do not know me that well. I am terrified.”
He smiled. “But you do not flee.”
“Not that it matters,” said Calliande. “I have
no way to help Morigna. I cannot even break free of Coriolus’s damned trap.”
The Watcher gazed into the mists for a moment.
“Do not,” he said, “be so sure of that.”
“You can help me?” said Calliande. “You have magic that can break the trap? Or you can show me how to do it?”
“Neither, I fear,” said the Watcher. “But I can tell you this. The Eternalist will have to go to a place of power to work his spell, someplace to magnify and focus the dark magic he will summon…”
“The standing circle,” said Calliande at once. “Where Sir Nathan Vorinus died.”
“There,” said the Watcher, “you will find Morigna and the Eternalist. But you must reach them before midnight. The thirteen moons will soon reach the exact configuration he requires, and he will claim her flesh for his own.”
“Then I know where to go,” said Calliande, “but not how to get there.”
“I do not think,” said the Watcher, “that will pose a problem.”
“Why not?” said Calliande, but before the spirit could answer, the dream vanished in a blaze of golden fire.
###
Dark visions floated before Ridmark’s eyes.
He saw himself facing Gothalinzur, the ancient urdmordar gathering villagers to serve as her larder before the Frostborn returned. Ten years before Agrimnalazur and Aranaeus, and he had known. The Frostborn had been destroyed centuries ago, defeated by the Dragon Knight and the last Keeper of Avalon. Yet somehow they would return.
He did not know how. He did not know when. He only knew it would be soon.
His mind drifted through memories. Meeting Aelia for the first time in the great hall of Castra Marcaine. The first time he had fought Tarrabus Carhaine at arms practice, the arrogant young heir to Caerdracon just as strong and skilled as Ridmark. The wedding in the great hall of Castra Marcaine, when Ridmark had taken Aelia’s hands and pledged to honor and love and defend her until the end of his days.
Frostborn: The Undying Wizard Page 23