“We have additional good news,” said Calliande. “The dwarves have also agreed to fight against the Frostborn, and march through Khaluusk to confront our enemy.”
“The dwarves are stern warriors, and their presence shall be welcome,” said Curzonar.
Turcontar rumbled out a laugh. “Though with the dwarves and the Dragon Knight and a true High King, what need do you have for the Hunters and the tygrai?”
“Great need,” said Ridmark, “for we learned the truth behind the dark power that corrupted Kurdulkar and that brought the Frostborn to this world.”
Tazemazar inclined his cowled head in a slight nod. Perhaps the arbiters of the manetaurs had begun to suspect part of the truth.
“What truth is this?” said Curzonar.
“You know that the dark elves and the dvargir held the Black Mountain in the Northerland to be sacred,” said Ridmark.
“This is known to the lore of the arbiters,” said Tazemazar.
“Though it has always been of little consequence to the Hunters,” said the Red King, “since the Black Mountain is far from the boundaries of our Range.”
“The dark power that Kurdulkar served was the shadow of Incariel,” said Ridmark. “Incariel is imprisoned within Black Mountain and those who serve it draw its shadow from that place. The purpose of both Tymandain Shadowbearer and Imaria Shadowbearer has always been to free Incariel from its prison and unleash madness and chaos upon the world. That was why Tymandain Shadowbearer opened the world gate for the Frostborn on the slopes of Black Mountain. His plan was to have the Frostborn seize Tarlion and use the Well in the Citadel to empower the world gate to split open the mountain and free Incariel.”
Silence answered his pronouncement. Calliande watched the alien faces of the Red King and his son, wondering what they thought of it.
“Like a monkey using a stone to crack open an egg,” said Tazemazar at last.
“Essentially, yes,” said Calliande. “Except the monkey is a sorceress of terrible power, the stone is the magic of the Well of Tarlion, and the egg is filled with madness that will consume the world.”
That was probably one of the more tortured metaphors she had ever used, but the manetaurs understood.
“That explains much,” said Tazemazar. “I shall look forward to discussing this matter with the other arbiters. It will unravel many mysteries.”
“Then my son Kurdulkar was doubly deceived,” said Turcontar, his voice heavy. “He thought to change the nature of the Hunters and transform us into gods. But he was only a pawn. The shadow he served used him for his own purposes. It is a grievous thing to learn.”
“It is,” said Calliande. “It is also a bitter lesson that the men of Andomhaim have had to learn. Tarrabus Carhaine also served the same shadow, and he brought many of our nobles and knights with him into his folly.” She started to say that at least Kurdulkar had not split the manetaurs into an extended civil war, but she stopped herself. The manetaurs had found Kurdulkar’s attempted usurpation of the throne just as shocking as Tarrabus’s treachery, and Kurdulkar’s defeat had still cost many lives and killed Raszema. “Both our kindreds have learned that lesson.”
“So the Shadowbearer has brought the Frostborn here to destroy us all,” said Turcontar. “But we shall annihilate the Frostborn, feast on the flesh of their minions, and slay the Shadowbearer. We march to the Northerland, and we shall exterminate our enemies.”
“I suggest, Red King,” said Ridmark, “another course of action.”
“Oh?” said Turcontar. “What is that?”
“Stay right here until I return for you.”
Turcontar’s eyes narrowed to golden slits. “Do you suggest we take the path of cowardice?”
Curzonar rumbled a laugh. “Nay, Red King, I know this human too well. He has some cunning stratagem in mind.”
“I do have a plan,” said Ridmark. “Whether it is cunning or not…well, we shall find out when we face our prey.”
“Very well,” said Turcontar. “Speak your plan, then.”
“Arbiter,” said Ridmark. “Do your histories speak of the powers of the Dragon Knight?”
“They do,” said Tazemazar. “It is said the Dragon Knight could command flames, and call up firestorms to bedevil and burn his enemies. It is also said the Dragon Knight could travel from place to place with great speed.”
“He could,” said Ridmark, “and I can. And I can do the same thing for your army.”
Turcontar grunted. “Say what you mean plainly. I am old, and no longer have the patience for riddles.”
“This sword,” said Ridmark, gesturing with the burning blade, “can open magical gates. That’s how I got here so quickly. The sword took me from Cathair Solas to Dun Calpurnia and now to your side, Red King.”
“A useful power indeed,” said Tazemazar.
“And one I can offer to the Hunters,” said Ridmark. “With the sword, I can open a gate large enough for your army to pass through. You can cover the remaining distance between you and the Frostborn host in a day.”
“Is such a thing possible?” said Turcontar.
“It is, Red King,” said Calliande, though she wondered. Would Ridmark be able to open a gate that large and hold it open long enough for the manetaurs and the tygrai to pass? “The sword of the Dragon Knight possesses many powers.”
“Could the entire army pass through in a single step?” said Curzonar.
“No,” said Ridmark. “Not even the sword of the Dragon Knight possesses that kind of strength. But I can make a gate large enough for your army to march through in haste. The journey to Tarlion that would otherwise take you at least two weeks can be made in a single day, and you would be spared the necessity of having to cross the River Mourning to the south.”
“Then you advise that we proceed to Tarlion?” said Curzonar.
“I do,” said Ridmark. “I am not foolish enough to presume to command the manetaurs. But you have declared a Great Hunt against the Frostborn, and the Frostborn are going to Tarlion. The High King Arandar will withdraw behind the walls of the city, and he has the Anathgrimm with them. Imaria Shadowbearer will convince the Frostborn to throw their full strength against the walls of Tarlion, but Tarlion will not fall in a day. If we catch the Frostborn against the walls of the city, the walls can serve as the anvil while your host and the dwarves act as the hammer.”
“Then you will bring the dwarves to war against the Frostborn as well?” said Turcontar.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “As you said yourself, the Frostborn are powerful. We shall need all the allies we can gather to defeat them. I will open a gate for the dwarves at the same time I open a gate for you, and both armies can gather north of Tarlion. Once both hosts have come through their gates, we can strike. And if we are the stronger, we shall be victorious.”
For a moment, no one said anything.
“Red King,” said Curzonar, “this plan seems good to me. Perhaps we should follow the counsel of the Dragon Knight.”
“He has not yet led us wrong,” said Tazemazar, “and he warned us against the treachery of Kurdulkar. Perhaps it would be better to heed him now.”
“Perhaps it would at that,” said Turcontar. “Very well, Dragon Knight, we shall remain here while we await your call. Should you arrive and open your gate for us, we will proceed to Tarlion and destroy the Frostborn. If you do not return, we shall proceed as we think best.”
“A fair arrangement,” said Ridmark, and he offered the Red King a bow.
“Adad-khalath,” said Turcontar to his son. “Show the Dragon Knight the arrangement of our camps. He will need to see them for when we pass through his gate. I would wish a word alone with the Keeper.”
Ridmark caught Calliande’s eye, and she gave him a faint nod. She suspected she knew what Turcontar wanted to ask her.
“Of course,” said Curzonar. “This way, Dragon Knight.” Curzonar strode away, Ridmark, Third, Caius, and Tazemazar following him.
Calliande
and Turcontar gazed at each other for a moment. Again she had the overwhelming impression that she was alone with a powerful predator, but the impression was dampened by the obvious weariness in the Red King’s stance.
“Perhaps you can tell me,” said Turcontar in a quiet voice, “how much time I have left.”
Calliande hesitated. “May I?” Turcontar nodded, and Calliande took a deep breath, stepped before the Red King, and reached up to touch his temple. She had to strain a bit to do it. The fur of his mane felt coarse beneath her fingers, and his flesh radiated heat. Manetaurs were naturally warmer than humans, but not this warm.
She summoned power, the beginnings of the healing spell, and sent her will into him.
The Red King was dying.
She sensed the injuries to his heart, the lesions that had grown there. He also had countless other aches and pains from worn joints, wounds that had never healed right, and the other maladies that increasing age brought to a mortal.
“Not long, I fear,” said Calliande. “Maybe six months. I will do what I can to ease the pain…”
“There is no need…” started Turcontar.
Calliande ignored him and cast the healing spell. She drew the pain of Turcontar’s injuries into her, the pain in his chest, the aches in his joints, the pain of the damaged bones, and gritted her teeth and endured the pain as she sent healing magic flowing into him. The Red King let out a sharp gasp, and Calliande stepped back, releasing her magic.
“I did what I could,” said Calliande.
“Thank you, Keeper of Andomhaim,” said Turcontar. “The pain has lessened.”
“But I can’t take it away entirely,” said Calliande. “Time is a foe that no magic can conquer.”
The Red King let out a rumbling laugh. “And I am old by the standards of my kindred. Old by the standards of yours, I expect. I did not think to live this long. I thought to fall in battle or the hunt or a challenge years ago. Instead, I have vanquished every foe I ever faced…but as you said, time is a foe that no Hunter can overcome.”
“I am sorry,” said Calliande.
“It is the common fate of all kindreds, is it not?” said Turcontar. “I have lived too long, Keeper. I had suspected it as my weariness grew, and after Kurdulkar’s creatures slew Raszema, I knew it in my bones. This shall be my last battle. I will fall in the Great Hunt against the Frostborn.”
Calliande nodded. She wanted to offer sympathy, but she knew the Red King would refuse it.
“I ask that you help my son Curzonar claim the mantle of Red King when my hour comes,” said Turcontar. “He is already the adad-khalath, the leader of the Great Hunt. The other Red Princes should support him without challenge. But if they do not, he must subdue them. I ask that you help him, Keeper. These are dangerous times for the Hunters and the tygrai. These are dangerous times for all kindreds, I expect.”
“I shall,” said Calliande. “I can promise nothing of the future, Red King. But if I survive the fight to come and it is within my power, I will find a way to help him.”
“That is all I can ask,” said Turcontar. His nostrils flared. “Your scent has changed.”
“It’s been a while since I had the chance to bathe, I fear,” said Calliande.
“Humans bathe too much anyway,” said Turcontar. “No. The Dragon Knight. You have mated with him.”
Calliande opened her mouth and closed it again. She supposed Turcontar would smell Ridmark’s scent on her now.
“Yes,” she said.
Turcontar inclined his head. “That is good. A Hunter will have many wives and concubines, and the Red King more than most. But Raszema…she was the one I loved.” Calliande was stunned to hear him speak this way. Turcontar had indeed accepted that he was dying. “I fear much the will to fight left me when she died.”
“That is ill news,” said Calliande. “There is much fighting left to be done.”
“There is,” said Turcontar, “and I will not flinch from it. I have never quailed from a fight in my life, and I do not intend to start now. I shall die in this fight, and Curzonar shall take my place.” He considered her for a moment. “But it is good that you and the Dragon Knight have mated. A Hunter does not truly fight until he has something to lose. Perhaps the same is true of humans.”
“Perhaps,” said Calliande, looking towards where Ridmark walked with Curzonar and the others.
“Besides,” said Turcontar, “the Dragon Knight is a fell warrior, and he shall sire many strong sons upon you, and they shall grow to become mighty warriors in his image.”
Calliande smiled at the manetaurs’ version of a marriage blessing. “Thank you, Red King. I just hope we live long enough to see it.”
###
A few hours later Ridmark left the camp of the manetaurs with Calliande, Third, and Caius, his mind turning over the next phase of his plans.
In a way, he supposed, the manetaurs were right. This was a hunt, a hunt of colossal scale with tens of thousands of lives in the balance along with the lives of countless generations yet unborn. He was hunting the Frostborn and Imaria, and he was hoping to trap his prey against the walls of Tarlion.
“Can you really do it?” said Calliande.
He blinked, shaken out of his thoughts. “Do what?”
“Create a gate and hold it open long enough for the manetaurs and the dwarves to pass it,” said Calliande.
“With your help, I think I can,” said Ridmark.
“The effort will be immense,” said Calliande. “I don’t know that I could sustain a spell that long.”
“I know,” said Ridmark, “but the effort won’t be mine. The effort won’t be yours, either, save for using the Sight to target the gates.”
“But won’t using the sword drain you?” said Calliande. “You could only stop time for so long, and you needed to rest after opening the gate.”
“Actually, I didn’t,” said Ridmark. “I was fine. The sword needed to recover. It’s not like using a soulblade. My own stamina doesn’t have anything to do it.”
“What a peculiar thought,” said Calliande. She shook her head. “I’ve spent most of my life using magic, and my own stamina was often the limiting element. The thought of wielding that much power without any restrictions is a dizzying one.”
“Yes,” said Ridmark, looking at Caledhmaer’s fire. He knew the sword would have the power to open those gates and hold them open long enough for the armies to pass. With that kind of power, an army could conquer the world. Little wonder the sword tested potential Dragon Knights so brutally.
“If we bring the dwarves and the manetaurs too close to Tarlion,” said Third, “they may encounter the Frostborn before they are ready to face the enemy, or before the Frostborn have committed themselves to the assault of the city.”
“I know,” said Ridmark. “We’ll have to time it carefully, and get the dwarves and the manetaurs there after the Frostborn have begun their attack, but not before they break into the city.”
“How long do you think Tarlion can hold against the Frostborn?” said Caius.
“I don’t know,” said Ridmark. Tarlion’s fortifications were the strongest in the realm. The city had withstood orcs and dark elves and urdmordar and the Enlightened of Incariel. But against the power of the Frostborn, he wasn’t sure how long Tarlion’s walls could hold. “Which is why we should keep moving. Are you ready to find the dwarves?”
Calliande took a deep breath. “I am.”
He stepped to her side, and she gripped his hand as it grasped the hilt of Caledhmaer. Her fingers felt warm against his, and he suddenly wished they could be alone.
But duty called.
Ridmark felt the now-familiar tugging of her magic on the bond he shared with Caledhmaer. A curtain of gray mist rolled up from the ground, opening another gate.
“This should take us to northeastern Khaluusk, not far from the dwarven host,” said Calliande.
“Have your weapons ready,” said Ridmark to Caius and Third. They nodded an
d drew their weapons. “We almost walked into an ambush. I don’t want to do that again.”
Calliande stepped back, the staff of the Keeper ready in her left hand. “Let’s hope there is less violence than the last time we visited the dwarves.”
Ridmark did not remember most of his final battle with the Weaver in the chamber of the Stone Heart in Khald Tormen, but he remembered enough of it to know that he never wanted to do it again.
“Yes,” he said.
Ridmark took a deep breath and walked through the gate.
Chapter 12: Visions
Tarlion seethed like an anthill.
Everywhere Arandar rode, he saw both men-at-arms and the people of the city preparing for the impending siege. Militiamen carried bundles of arrows and crossbow quarrels to the wall. Groups of the city’s women prepared endless piles of bandages and arrows. Teams of militiamen hauled catapult stones to the watch towers along with stacks of iron ballista bolts.
Outside the walls, the Anathgrimm waited in their camps. Every morning, the Anathgrimm razed their fortified camp and then built it anew. Arandar could not help but think that wasteful, but he soon saw the virtue in it. The Anathgrimm scavenged the siege walls to build their fortified camps, and after a few nights, they had destroyed the ruins of the three siege walls, transforming a half a mile of land outside the walls into pockmarked, uneven ground. It looked grim, and it was a waste of good farmland, but it would slow efforts to bring ladders and siege towers against the walls.
Whenever Arandar was on the walls, he looked over the battlements towards the Moradel. The river served as a kind of a clock, or like the rumbling before an avalanche. Once the River Moradel froze solid, he knew that the Frostborn would not be far behind.
So far the river still flowed. Dux Sebastian’s scouts ranged to the north, but they had not yet seen any sign of the Frostborn. The locusari flew overhead from time to time, but after the assassination attempt outside the walls, they had not yet seen any frost drakes.
Frostborn: The Shadow Prison (Frostborn #15) Page 16