The frost drake’s jaws opened wide, more white mist swirling behind its fangs, and Antenora struck.
The sphere of flame soared into the air and missed the frost drake’s head entirely. It did, however, strike the drake’s Frostborn rider. The sphere exploded in a roiling fist of flame, large enough to engulf most of the drake’s body, and the creature bellowed in pain, its flight swerving to the north. The explosion hurled the Frostborn warrior from the drake’s back, and the Frostborn plummeted from the sky to land hard on the frozen river. It lay there motionless, wreathed in elemental fire. The drake screamed again and flew away to the north, its motions erratic as the remaining fire danced across its back.
“Good shot,” said Gavin.
“Thank you, Gavin Swordbearer,” said Antenora. A horn blast rang out as Sir Tagrimn called on his riders to form up and withdraw. “We had best move, I think.”
“Aye,” said Gavin, and he climbed into the saddle of his horse and rode alongside Antenora as they hurried to rejoin Sir Tagrimn and the rest of the men.
They had won the battle of Dun Calpurnia, and they had beaten back the Frostborn raiding parties.
Yet it still felt as if they were further from victory than ever before.
###
Arandar waited atop his horse as the last of the cavalry sorties returned, listening to their reports.
All the news was good, at least this time. Every one of the sorties had met a Frostborn raiding party and repulsed it, and three separate frost drakes and their Frostborn riders had been brought down. So far, the Frostborn seemed disinclined to push hard against the army, perhaps fearing that the Dragon Knight was with them.
The horsemen had also seen large parties of khaldjari and medvarth warriors moving into the ruins of Dun Calpurnia. The Frostborn had claimed the town for themselves, and the khaldjari were strengthening the walls with their magical ice, building additional bastions and towers. Like the ancient Romans upon Old Earth, the Frostborn preferred to advance after constructing fortifications they could use to fall back if the battle went ill. It was a conservative, slow approach to warfare, but since Calliande had said the Frostborn could live for thousands of years, it played to their strengths. They could grind away the army of Andomhaim bit by bit, and conquering the realm in fifty years instead of five probably made no difference to them.
Yet the Moradel was still frozen. Dux Sebastian had sent scouts riding south, and they had returned to report that the ice extended a dozen miles south, its southern edge creeping forward a few yards every second. The Frostborn were preparing to march to Tarlion, and they were going to use the River Moradel itself as their highway. Likely they would leave a strong force to hold Dun Calpurnia as a fallback point but send the bulk of their strength to Tarlion.
Which meant the army of Andomhaim would have to move quickly.
“I think that’s the last of them,” said Prince Cadwall, pointing. “Sir Tagrimn’s group, I think.”
Arandar nodded as the horsemen drew closer. He saw irascible old Tagrimn at the head of the wedge of riders, and it looked like the knight had come through another battle alive. Gavin and Antenora and Kharlacht had been with that group, and Arandar was relieved to see they had come through the fighting unharmed. He supposed it was unfair. Tens of thousands of men were under his command, and thousands of them had died.
But Kharlacht and Gavin and Antenora had gone with him into Urd Morlemoch and Khald Azalar, long before Arandar had the right to command anyone.
And from the perspective of the High King, Antenora’s powers made an invaluable weapon, especially since the Keeper had disappeared again.
“Sir Tagrimn!” said Prince Cadwall. “Good hunting, I hope?”
“Aye,” said Tagrimn. “We dealt with a band of locusari and another of medvarth, and Lady Antenora cooked one of those frost drakes. Pity there wasn’t time to roast the damn thing.” He spat on the ground. “Never hunted and cooked frost drake, but I suppose I’ll get around to it someday.” His grim manner seemed to sharpen. “Lost a few men, but less than I expected.”
Arandar nodded. “Good work. We’re heading south. Find a place in the line of march and get moving. We’ll have to march all tonight and all of tomorrow to get enough distance between us and the Frostborn.”
“I’m too damned old for this,” said Tagrimn, but he led his men to join the rest of the horsemen riding south. Gavin and Antenora and Kharlacht broke off from the riders to take their place with the rest of Arandar’s bodyguards.
“Any sign of them?” said Arandar.
Antenora shook her head. “I fear not, High King. I could find no trace of the Keeper or the Dragon Knight. Wherever they are, it is far from here.”
“Third and Brother Caius must have gone with them as well,” said Kharlacht. “If they were here, they would have joined us by now. Third, especially.”
“Very well,” said Arandar. “We shall have to trust that they know what they are doing.”
Ridmark and Calliande had come through for him before. They had secured alliances with the dwarves and the manetaurs. They had helped defeat Tarrabus, and they had returned at the last moment to save the host of Andomhaim from the Frostborn.
Whatever they were doing now, wherever they were, he had to trust that they were working for the good of the realm.
And he had to hope that Ridmark had not destroyed himself and Calliande in the madness the sword had inflicted on him.
Arandar turned his horse and rode south as the last of the host of Andomhaim left Dun Calpurnia.
They had a long way to go before they could rest.
Chapter 4: Gathering Armies
Ridmark stepped through the gate.
He didn’t know how Caledhmaer created the gates. It was an aspect of the sword’s power to stop time. Somehow the sword folded physical distance like a banner, joining together two distant points like a thread looped back to touch itself. Ridmark didn’t understand the relationship, he didn’t know it worked, and he suspected the wisest scholars in the realm of Andomhaim could study the matter for years without truly understanding it.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that it worked at Ridmark’s call.
He stepped through the gate, holding it open for Calliande and Third and Caius to follow, and then released the power. The gate snapped out of existence, and Ridmark looked around. They were on the Moradel road about a mile south of Dun Calpurnia’s battered walls, the icy towers lining the wall gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The air smelled of blood and churned mud, but the overpowering odor was that of the musky fur of the medvarth, which made sense because a group of medvarth warriors stood about ten yards away, gaping at them in astonishment. Beyond them, Ridmark saw large troops of additional medvarth and locusari warriors and khaldjari, and thousands more soldiers marching down the frozen River Moradel.
The gate had dropped them right in the middle of the Frostborn host.
“Lord magister!” said Third, her blades rasping as she yanked them from their scabbards.
The nearest medvarth jerked out of their surprise and roared, charging towards Ridmark and the others.
“Defend yourselves!” said Ridmark, raising Caledhmaer in both hands.
The medvarth lumbered towards them, shields raised and swords drawn back. Third disappeared in a swirl of blue fire, and Calliande began casting a spell, while Caius hung back to guard her.
Ridmark charged to meet them.
The sensible thing to do, he knew, would have been to open another gate and withdraw. But while Caledhmaer was mighty, its power was not infinite. The sword needed a few moments before it could fold space again and open another gate, and Ridmark had to fight until the sword would allow them to escape.
Fortunately, the sword had many other powers.
Ridmark reached the first medvarth and swung Caledhmaer with both hands. The medvarth warrior raised its shield, and the sword slammed into it. The blade exploded with flames, and the shield ripped apart.
The blast knocked the medvarth back, throwing the creature into three others, and all of them fell to the ground.
Ridmark killed all four of them before they could rise again. Like Excalibur, Caledhmaer seemed able to cut through anything, and the red blade sliced through the medvarths’ thick hides and armor and bones without slowing. Ridmark left them dead on the ground and wheeled to face the remaining medvarths. Another warrior came howling at him, and Ridmark ducked under the sweep of a massive axe and attacked, Caledhmaer seeking the warrior’s heart. Third reappeared behind another medvarth, plunging her blades home into its back, and Ridmark ripped his sword free and took off the medvarth’s head.
By then Calliande finished her spell, and she shouted as she struck the end of her staff against the earth. The ground rippled and folded around Ridmark like a banner caught in the wind, and the remaining medvarth fell. Ridmark and Third charged into their midst, striking right and left. Third’s short swords landed with surgical precision, and Caledhmaer ripped through their armor.
In less than a minute, Ridmark and Third had killed all twelve medvarth warriors, but Ridmark had accounted for most of them himself. As he looked at their carcasses, he understood why the sword had inflicted such a brutal test on him before he could wield it. Caledhmaer had power, terrible power, and in the wrong hands that power could wreak grievous harm.
“It seems you needed little help,” said Third, shaking blood from her swords.
Ridmark had no need to clean Caledhmaer. The sword’s fire burned away anything that touched the blade.
“I’m grateful for it anyway,” said Ridmark as Caius and Calliande ran to join them.
“I suggest,” said Caius, “that we leave at once.”
The sound of horns and drums rang out, and a tumult arose from the surrounding soldiers. Their presence had been noticed, and Ridmark saw squads of medvarth and locusari rushing to meet them.
“Agreed,” said Ridmark, reaching to his link with Caledhmaer. The sword was still gathering the power to open another gate. “But it will take a moment for the sword to recover its power. We’ll need to hold until then.”
“The host of Andomhaim,” said Calliande, looking around. “Do you think the Frostborn destroyed them?”
“I do not,” said Third. “The ground does not look right for that, and even the Frostborn would not have been able to destroy the army of the realm so quickly. I suspect rather that the High King heeded your counsel and has withdrawn in haste to the south. It…”
“Here they come!” said Caius.
Another wave of medvarth ran at them, howling their battle cries, swords and axes ready. Behind them and to the left marched a group of khaldjari warriors, crossbows in hand. Even as Ridmark looked the khaldjari raised their crossbows, taking aim. No doubt the plan was to weaken and wound them with a volley of crossbow bolts, and then the medvarth would finish them off.
Ridmark struck first.
He pointed Caledhmaer at the khaldjari, and the sword spat a whirling ball of ragged flame. It looked a great deal like the spheres of fire that both Antenora and Calliande could unleash, but it seemed somehow fiercer, wilder. The sphere shot past the charging medvarth and landed amidst the khaldjari, and exploded into a howling pillar of flame. The explosion killed a score of khaldjari, throwing the gray-skinned warriors in all direction, their bodies wrapped in shrouds of flame. Some of the khaldjari survived by calling shields of ice with their magic and crouching behind them.
Then the medvarth were within reach. Third disappeared and reappeared behind the nearest medvarth, hamstringing the creature.
Ridmark killed the prone medvarth, and then he met the enemy again.
Caledhmaer shattered another shield, burning chunks of wood tumbling in all directions. The force of the blast knocked back the medvarth warrior, and Ridmark took off its head with a sweep of Caledhmaer. The medvarth fell back, alarmed by his fury and the power of the sword, and Third reappeared behind the medvarth warriors, landing fatal blows with her short swords and traveling away again.
Then the surviving medvarth and khaldjari retreated, but Ridmark knew that would not last for long. They were in the heart of the Frostborn host, and sooner or later more powerful forces could come to oppose them.
As the medvarth fled, he saw those forces drawing near.
A dozen cogitaers drew closer, their gray robes stirring about them as they floated a few inches off the ground, their wispy white hair dancing around their heads. Their skin was pale blue, and the creatures looked delicate and frail. Despite that, they were some of the most dangerous servants of the Frostborn. They commanded powerful magic, and Ridmark had lost more Anathgrimm to the spells of the cogitaers during the fighting in the Northerland than he had to the swords of the medvarth and the crossbows of the khaldjari.
All twelve cogitaers began casting a spell at him in unison.
###
For an instant, Calliande watched Ridmark, stunned.
He had already been one of the most skilled warriors she had ever seen fight. Even armed with just a quarterstaff, he had gone up against dangerous and powerful opponents, and he had survived. More than that, he had won. Several times she had wondered what he would have been like with Heartwarden in hand, with a soulblade that enhanced his speed and strength.
The sword of the Dragon Knight did not grant him enhanced speed and strength.
Nevertheless, with that sword in hand, he was a terror on the battlefield.
Calliande had been ready to bring her spells to bear to help Ridmark and Third, either to shield them from harm or to strike against their foes.
As it turned out, there had been no need.
Ridmark had torn through the medvarth like a firestorm, leaving a score of them dead in his wake, smoke rising from their wounds. He had also wiped out the troop of khaldjari crossbowmen, killing most of them with the sword’s fire.
The cogitaers might prove harder.
Ridmark pointed the sword, and it hurled another blast of fire towards the cogitaers. The creatures responded at once, and Calliande’s Sight saw them weave a defensive ward around themselves. The sword’s fire struck the ward and shattered, and the cogitaers began another spell, joining together their powers to attack.
Calliande was ready for them.
She thrust her staff, and the magic of the Well and the power of the Keeper’s mantle blended together. The cogitaers finished their spell, hurling a volley of razor-edged shards of ice the size of ballista bolts. Calliande’s spell called a wall of white light before them, and the volley of ice shards shattered against the shimmering light, breaking apart into clouds of icy dust.
Ridmark started towards the cogitaers, but another troop of medvarth warriors charged at him, bellowing in fury, and he turned to face them, Third and Caius at his side. That left Calliande to deal with the cogitaers.
She was ready for them, and she struck again, hurling a shaft of white fire that swept across them. The cogitaers, despite their magical prowess, were still living mortals, and the magic of the Well did nothing to harm them. It did collapse their wards, the defensive magic unraveling beneath the Well’s fire, and at once the cogitaers abandoned their attack and began casting a new set of wards.
Calliande was already summoning more power. She wove together elemental fire and struck, hurling a sphere of fire across the field. It lacked the accuracy and precision that Antenora could work, but it didn’t matter. The sphere exploded in the middle of the cogitaers, killing three of them and setting four more ablaze. The cogitaers began casting again, but the attack had disrupted their coordination, and with half of their number disabled, their effectiveness was weakened. Calliande threw another blast of fire, and the explosion killed several cogitaers, forcing the remainder to flee. She held her power ready, but the cogitaers did not attack again.
It hardly mattered. The entire host of the Frostborn was coming to kill them.
In every direction, Calliande saw medvarth and khaldjari and locusari
heading towards them. The Frostborn knew that the Keeper and the Dragon Knight were two of the most dangerous threats they faced. If they could kill both Calliande and Ridmark here, right now, it would be worth the cost.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she saw dark shadows passing overhead.
Six frost drakes flew towards them, dipping low to unleash their freezing breath, and Calliande saw the Frostborn upon their backs casting spells.
“Ridmark!” shouted Calliande, starting a ward.
###
Ridmark killed a locusari warrior, and then another, and another, and he heard Calliande’s shout of warning.
He looked up as the frost drakes dove, white mist swirling behind their jagged fangs.
“Get close to me!” shouted Ridmark, and Third and Caius stepped next to him, weapons raised as the medvarth closed around them. Ridmark raised Caledhmaer over his head, calling on the sword’s power, and the blade erupted with furious flames. It was so hot that both Caius and Third flinched, though the heat did not touch Ridmark.
An instant later the frost drakes breathed plumes of freezing mist over them.
The drakes and their Frostborn riders did not bother aiming. The mist hardened into ice around half a hundred medvarth and locusari, killing them instantly. The mist tried to close around Ridmark, but the rage of Caledhmaer kept it at bay. Suddenly Ridmark found himself standing with Third and Caius inside a cylinder of ice. The frost drakes swooped past, and Ridmark saw flashes of blue and white light and heard a thunderclap as Calliande and the Frostborn flung spells at one another.
Ridmark thrust Caledhmaer, driving the sword into the wall of ice. The cylinder shivered as burning cracks spread through it, and then it exploded outward, steaming chunks of ice tumbling away. Ridmark saw scores of medvarth warriors and locusari frozen around him, and he also saw Calliande standing a dozen yards away, relief going over her face as she saw him. A shattered dome of ice lay melting on the ground around her. Likely some of the frost drakes had tried to kill her only for their freezing breath to break against the power of her wards.
Frostborn: The Shadow Prison (Frostborn #15) Page 5