“A marvel that you managed to get it away from them,” said Narzaxar. “The high elves do not like to interfere in the affairs of other kindreds.”
“They have a good reason for it,” said Calliande, remembering the way that shadows had filled Ardrhythain’s eyes.
“Forgive me, my King,” said one of the stonescribes, “but we must examine the sword to make certain it is genuine.”
Axazamar looked at Ridmark.
“I have no objection,” said Ridmark. “Just don’t touch it. I don’t think the sword would react well.”
“There is a proverb that khaldari mothers speak to their children,” said Axazamar, “about the folly of picking up a glowing object unless you know exactly what it is.”
“Prudent counsel,” said Calliande.
“Fortunately,” said the stonescribe, lifting a tablet inscribed with glowing glyphs, “physical contact will not be necessary.”
Four stonescribes walked next to Ridmark, pointing metal batons at him and tapping the glyphs carved onto the batons. Calliande’s Sight saw that they were using sensing spell designed to discern the nature of magic. One of the stonescribes produced a heavy book and paged through it, checked a list of records, and nodded to himself.
“There can be no doubt,” said the first stonescribe. “The records confirm it. This is indeed the sword of the Dragon Knight.”
“That is well,” said Axazamar. “The realm of Andomhaim, the Three Kingdoms, the manetaurs, and the Dragon Knight shall march to war together as we did in the days of my father. Perhaps we shall be victorious again.”
“And to aid that victory,” said Ridmark. “I have counsel.”
“Speak,” said Narzaxar.
“The Frostborn are attacking Tarlion because Imaria Licinius Shadowbearer has convinced them to do so,” said Ridmark. “You knew her predecessor Tymandain Shadowbearer as the great herald of the void.”
“So our sundered cousins among the dvargir named him,” said Axazamar. “The lore of the stonescribes records that he was the one to lure them to the darkness.”
“He was the one to bring the Frostborn here the first time,” said Ridmark. “That was the reason he opened a world gate on the slopes of Black Mountain, and why Imaria Shadowbearer did the same. Incariel is imprisoned within Black Mountain. If the Frostborn can take Tarlion, Imaria will seize the Well and use its power to augment the gate. The world gate will expand and rip open Black Mountain, and Incariel will be free to do as it likes. The mere touch of Incariel’s shadow turned some of the khaldari into the dvargir. A slightly larger touch created the Weaver, and he nearly killed us all. Imagine what kind of horror Incariel might be able to wreak if it was free to do as it wished.”
“That is a dire warning indeed,” said Axazamar. “And it explains much of our own kindred’s history that would otherwise be inexplicable.”
The lines of Narzaxar’s face deepened in a frown. “Then even the Frostborn themselves are pawns in this great war?”
“I fear so,” said Caius. “In the end, the war is not about the Frostborn, or the dvargir, or even the two bearers of Incariel’s shadow. It is about those who would free Incariel and plunge the world into madness, and those who would prevent that. It is a strange thing to contemplate. I heard both the Warden and the archmage Ardrhythain speak of a hundred thousand years of war, and such a span of time is vast even for us to contemplate. Yet that is the true nature of this war, and it seems we are approaching its final battle.”
“Then it is good you have brought us this news,” said Narzaxar. “In war, if you do not understand your enemy, you cannot defeat him.”
“And that is why I failed to stop Tymandain Shadowbearer two centuries ago,” said Calliande. “I didn’t truly understand what he intended, not then.”
“Then with this information, how do you suggest we proceed, Dragon Knight?” said Axazamar.
“My counsel is this,” said Ridmark. “March to the bank of the River Moradel and wait there. The river will be frozen, for the Frostborn have used their magic to turn it to ice so they can employ it as a highway south. But the bulk of their force will have passed to the south already as they march for Tarlion. March for the river, and wait for me there.”
“And what will happen when you return?” said Narzaxar.
“With the power of the Dragon Knight’s sword,” said Ridmark, “I will call forth a gate that will take you from the river to Tarlion in an instant.”
“A gate?” said Narzaxar. “Is such a thing possible?”
“It is,” said Ridmark. “A few days ago, I was in Caerdracon, speaking with Red King Turcontar of the manetaurs. In the blink of an eye, the gate took us from the shores of the Lake of Mourning to the plains of Khaluusk, where Imaria Shadowbearer waited to ambush us. It can do the same for your host. Granted, it will not be instantaneous. You have tens of thousands of warriors, and it will take them time to pass the gate, perhaps a day.”
A few days ago? But that wasn’t right. They had been talking to Turcontar earlier today. It hadn’t been a few days. Why would Ridmark lie to Axazamar?
He wouldn’t.
Which meant that he thought a few days had passed.
Calliande felt a chill as she looked at the burning sword.
Just what had the blade of the Dragon Knight done?
“What of the High King’s host?” said Narzaxar.
“They have withdrawn behind the walls of Tarlion to defend the Citadel and the Well,” said Ridmark. “Queen Mara and the Anathgrimm are with them, most likely.”
Axazamar inclined his head. “Then you mean to use the walls of Tarlion as the anvil, and our host as the hammer?”
“And the host of the manetaurs and the tygrai,” said Ridmark. “If we time it right, we can attack when the Frostborn have launched their full strength against the walls of Tarlion. You know an army is at its most vulnerable to attack from behind when it is committed to an assault against a fortified position. If we do this, we can break the strength of the Frostborn against the city. Perhaps we can even kill Imaria Shadowbearer and stop her from working any further evil. If we break the main strength of the Frostborn, we can storm the Northerland and close their gate.”
“A bold plan,” said Axazamar.
“But a sound one, I think,” said Narzaxar.
“Agreed,” said the King of Khald Tormen. “Ridmark Arban, you proved your worth when you exposed the Sculptor’s deceptions and slew the Weaver before the Stone Heart. Once before the Three Kingdoms followed the Dragon Knight into battle, and we shall do so again. We shall follow your counsel, and await your return by the bank of the Moradel.”
“Thank you,” said Ridmark. “Either we shall be victorious together, or we shall be defeated together.”
Saying that might have offended the lords of Andomhaim or the manetaurs, but the dwarves only nodded in approval. Their philosophy of stoicism approved of looking at all possible outcomes, even the negative ones, but sometimes Calliande thought they simply used it to justify passive apathy. Little wonder the faith of the church had caused such controversy among them.
“Will you depart at once?” said Narzaxar. “If the sword gives you the power to travel from place to place in haste, that would be useful. Otherwise, you are welcome to camp with us this evening.”
“We would be honored,” said Ridmark, “and since we have come a great distance, rest would be welcome.”
###
“I made a mistake,” said Ridmark.
That night Calliande stood outside the dwarven camp and looked at the sky, Ridmark, Third, and Caius waiting around her. Six of the thirteen moons were out, and their positions were wrong.
No, that wasn’t quite it. The moons were in the right position…but the wrong position for twelve days ago.
“Twelve days,” said Calliande at last, working through the charts of the moons’ positions she had memorized as a novice of the Magistri long ago. “Or thirteen. That’s how much time has passed si
nce we left Castra Marcaine. Twelve or thirteen days.”
“God preserve us,” said Caius. “It only felt like a day and a half.”
Third frowned. “Did the sword put us to sleep while we traveled?”
“No,” said Ridmark. “For us, it really was a day and a half. Thirteen days passed for the rest of the world. It works the same way when the sword stops time for me. Five minutes might pass for me, but only a heartbeat for the rest of the world.” He looked at Calliande. “Do you remember what the Warden said in Urd Morlemoch?”
“He said quite a few things,” said Calliande, though that terrible day was seared into her memory.
“He said,” said Ridmark, “that the weight of stars can affect the flow of time. I didn’t know what that meant, but I think I do now. No, that’s not right. I don’t understand. It’s beyond me. But I think the way the sword folds space also changes the flow of time.”
“So to us,” said Caius, “we travel instantaneously, but to the rest of the world, several days can pass.”
“Aye,” said Ridmark. “That seems to be the truth of it.”
“Then we’ve lost days,” said Calliande, alarmed.
“Not as much time as that,” said Caius. “We’ve gone from Castra Marcaine, to Caerdracon, and then to Khaluusk. Traversing that much land on foot would take nearly a month. It might not even be possible since Castra Marcaine is now surrounded by the forces of the Frostborn.”
“But I think,” said Ridmark, “that I can control it now.”
“Are you sure?” said Calliande.
“No,” said Ridmark, “but I’m sure enough to take a gamble. The sword…” He hesitated, trying to find the words, and Calliande waited to let him sort through his thoughts. Her husband was a clever man, but this sort of thing was beyond his experience.
In many ways, it was beyond hers, too.
“I don’t think the sword completely understands mortals or the physical world,” said Ridmark at last. “It was never meant to be wielded by a human. It doesn’t even really exist in the physical world. It just takes the form of a sword when I call it. So, when I communicate what I want to the sword, sometimes it understands, and sometimes it does not.”
“In other words,” said Caius, “the blade is like a literal-minded servant. It didn’t think to change the flow of time because you didn’t ask.”
“Aye,” said Ridmark. “But I know better now. I want to go to Castra Arban. Our next stop should be Tarlion anyway, to tell the High King what we’ve done. It will also be useful to see if the journey is instantaneous or if a few days pass while we’re traveling.”
“That seems wise,” said Calliande. His entire plan depended upon getting the dwarves and the manetaurs to Tarlion through the sword’s gates. If there was going to be a delay, they needed to know about it now.
“Ready?” said Ridmark.
The others nodded.
“Do you need the Sight to guide you?” said Calliande.
“Not for this,” said Ridmark. The sword appeared in his grasp, its harsh fire throwing back the night. “I know exactly where to find Castra Arban.”
He looked at the sword for a moment, its light reflecting in his eyes, his expression tight with concentration. Then the familiar sheet of gray mist and pale light appeared before them. Third and Caius went through first, then Calliande, and Ridmark followed her an instant later.
The gate snapped shut behind them, and the cold magic of the Frostborn blazed before Calliande’s Sight.
She looked around in alarm, but there was no immediate threat. They had appeared on the riverbank about a half-mile north of Castra Arban, the ancient fortress’s towers and walls stark against the night sky. The River Moradel was nearly a mile wide here, and the river had been frozen solid, the water bound by the icy magic of the Frostborn.
“Do you see any enemies?” said Ridmark.
Calliande concentrated, sending the Sight sweeping around them.
“No,” she said at last. “There’s a garrison in the castra, but they won’t be able to see us. I don’t think any of the Frostborn or their creatures are nearby.” She looked at the sky, gazing at the moons.
To her relief, they were in the same position. Well, not exactly the same position. Calliande had just traveled several hundred miles in the blink of an eye. But if she compensated for that, the moons were in the correct position. Only a few moments had passed for them – and only a few moments for the rest of the world as well.
“I think it worked,” said Third.
“It did,” said Calliande. “The same amount of time passed for us as for the rest of the world.” She shook her head. “That is a...strange thing to worry about, is it not?”
“Truly,” said Third. “I have never encountered it before.”
“I see why the sword convinced you that it could change the past,” said Calliande, touching Ridmark’s arm. She knew how bitterly he had rebuked himself for Aelia’s and Morigna’s deaths. The temptation to go back and undo those deaths must have been overwhelming to him, even if that had been an illusion wrought by the sword’s testing.
“Aye,” said Ridmark, and his free hand caught hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “But nothing can change the past. And it is not good to dwell too much on what cannot be changed and what cannot be undone.” He let out a breath that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “If ever there was a lesson I learned the hard way, it was that one.”
“It is a hard lesson to learn,” said Caius, “for all of us.”
They stood in silence for a while. Calliande had to admit that the silvery light of the moons was beautiful against the frozen river. Though, come to think of it, the frozen river looked a bit worse for wear, its surface pitted and scarred.
“I think,” said Third, “that the Frostborn host already passed this way.”
“It has,” said Ridmark, voice grim. “You can see how the claws of the locusari and the boots of the medvarth tore up the surface of the ice. We probably missed them only by a few hours.”
“Then they are nearly to Tarlion,” said Calliande.
Ridmark nodded. “Let’s return to King Axazamar’s camp and make sure no extra time has passed. We all need some rest anyway. Tomorrow at dawn, we’ll head for Tarlion and tell the High King what we have done.” His voice hardened. “And we’ll also need to see how the Frostborn prepare their siege camps.”
“All the better to attack them from behind,” said Third.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. He lifted the sword, preparing to open another gate.
“Ridmark,” said Calliande as another thought occurred to her.
“What is it?” he said.
“Why didn’t we tell the dwarves or the manetaurs about the high elves?” said Calliande.
He considered that for a moment.
“Because,” said Ridmark, “I’m not entirely sure what they are going to do.”
“Surely they are on our side,” said Caius.
“They are,” said Ridmark. “They’ve helped Andomhaim before. Ardrhythain helped us at Urd Morlemoch. He showed us the way to the sword of the Dragon Knight.” He frowned, the light from the sword throwing stark shadows across the hard planes of his face. “But that power comes with a cost. The sword almost destroyed me. I can see why the high elves are forbidden from interfering with the other kindreds. They’re so powerful that they can’t help but alter us with their help, maybe in ways they don’t intend.” He shook his head. “And that weapon of theirs, the Final Defense…”
“It does sound ominous,” said Caius.
“I keep thinking about what you said, Third,” said Ridmark. “Why didn’t they use the weapon to save their kindred when the dark elves and the urdmordar overran their kingdoms? If they had a weapon that could have saved them, surely they would have used it.” He gestured with the sword. “The sword of the Dragon Knight has a cost. It is a cost I can bear, true, but it nearly killed me. This Final Defense…if they’ve never used it, what kind of
cost will it have?”
“Logically, a steep cost,” said Third.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “That is why I haven’t told the others about the high elves. Ardrhythain said he would only use the weapon if it appeared Imaria was going to take the Well. Hopefully, we can defeat the Frostborn and keep them from getting to the Citadel. If the high elves arrive and turn the tide, that would be welcome. But I’m not going to tell the others that the high elves have some sort of terrible weapon that will destroy Tarlion and everyone around it.”
“Do you think that is what the weapon is?” said Caius. “Some sort of engine of war like the ones the Warden showed us on Old Earth? Something that could destroy an entire city in the blink of an eye?”
“I don’t know,” said Ridmark. “And I hope we don’t have to find out. Let’s go back to the dwarves’ camp and get some rest. I suspect it might be our last chance for a while.”
He opened the gate, and they returned to King Axazamar’s camp. The moons had only moved a little while they were gone. It seemed that Ridmark had indeed gained better control of the sword’s power. It was a frustrating setback, but Calliande knew it could have been much worse. She wished that someone could have taught Ridmark more about the sword’s power, but the sword had secrets only known to the Dragon Knights, and there were no other living Dragon Knights. Indeed, Ridmark couldn’t even tell her the sword’s true name. He had tried, while they had been alone at Castra Marcaine, and her brain had simply refused to grasp the word.
Only the Dragon Knight could know the name of his sword.
Perhaps the same was true of the Final Defense, whatever it was.
Calliande hoped they would not have to find out.
Chapter 15: Last Parley
It took the host of the Frostborn nearly a day to arrive in the fields outside Tarlion.
Gavin walked with Antenora, Kharlacht, Camorak, and the others in the High King’s guard as Arandar strode along the rampart, inspecting the defenses one last time before the battle began. Gavin had fought atop the walls of Urd Arowyn, Vulmhosk, Dun Licinia, Castra Carhaine, and Dun Calpurnia, but Tarlion had the strongest walls that he had ever seen. They were tall, and the watch towers and gate towers stood even higher yet. Additionally, they were thick, so thick that a group of four horsemen could ride abreast along the ramparts. That meant the defenders could have two or even three lines atop the ramparts, with the archers standing behind spearmen and swordsmen. If the ramparts at Dun Calpurnia had been wide enough to allow that, perhaps they might have held the town for longer. Gavin passed catapults and trebuchets manned by Pendragon men-at-arms and the militiamen of Tarlion. Those weapons would be a match for the trebuchets that the khaldjari had built at Dun Calpurnia.
Frostborn: The Shadow Prison (Frostborn #15) Page 20