Frostborn: Excalibur (Frostborn #13)

by Jonathan Moeller

  A wave of jeers drowned out his words.

  “Then die!” screamed Tarrabus. “Die, all of you! I will laugh when the Frostborn shatter your walls and butcher your children and your wives in front of you! I could have made you gods, and I hope you die screaming when…”

  “Enough,” said Arandar.

  The Swordbearer stuffed the gag back into Tarrabus’s mouth.

  “There can be no defense for your crimes,” said Arandar. “Even worse, you thought yourself acting of your own accord, but you were nothing but the puppet of Tymandain Shadowbearer. The Enlightened, like the Eternalists before them, were the creations of Shadowbearer, poisons he made to weaken Andomhaim for the return of the Frostborn.” Tarrabus sneered behind his gag, but Arandar kept talking. “Tymandain Shadowbearer himself boasted of this, before myself, the Keeper, Lord Ridmark of Nightmane Forest, Sir Gavin of the Order of the Soulblade, and many other reliable witnesses. Therefore, this is my sentence upon you.”

  Tarrabus sneered again.

  “Death can be the only sentence for your crimes,” said Arandar, “but I command that you shall be held in confinement in the Citadel until the Frostborn are defeated. The same spell that blocks you from the shadow of Incariel shall be cast upon your cell. When we return victorious, a complete recounting of your crimes and the crimes of the Enlightened shall be entered into the chronicles of the realm of Andomhaim. Never again shall the men of Andomhaim fall prey to such poisonous lies, and when we return, and your crimes have been fully recorded, only then shall you be beheaded.” Arandar shrugged. “And perhaps your years of imprisonment will teach you wisdom and you shall turn to God for mercy. If not, and if God wills that we are defeated, when the Frostborn tear down the walls of the Citadel and come for you, maybe the shadow of Incariel will save you.” He looked at the Swordbearers. “Take him to his cell and leave him there.”

  The Swordbearers grabbed Tarrabus and marched him away, and Arandar felt the usurper’s hate-filled gaze. No matter. The Enlightened were broken, and no man of Andomhaim would follow Tarrabus Carhaine again. Imaria Shadowbearer was still out there, likely with the Frostborn, but Arandar doubted she would come to rescue Tarrabus.

  Imaria, like Tymandain before her, had no use for weakness.

  “Tonight, we celebrate our victory,” said Arandar. “Masses of thanksgiving shall be said in every church in Tarlion. Once they are complete, food and drink will be distributed to every man, woman, and child of the city from the spoils of Tarrabus’s camp. We shall have one night to celebrate our victory and thank God for our deliverance. Tomorrow, our labors shall resume, but tonight, we shall celebrate.”

  The cheers rang through Tarlion.

  Chapter 23: A Last Question

  Calliande watched the crowd disperse, her mind elsewhere.

  She felt oddly lighter, as if a great weight had been taken from her. Long ago, one of the forerunners of the Enlightened had tried to kill her, and she had seen the danger of the corruption that Tymandain Shadowbearer had loosed upon Andomhaim. To fight that corruption, she had founded the Order of the Vigilant and put herself into the long sleep below the Tower of Vigilance, intending to awake to prevent the Frostborn from returning once more.

  Both efforts had failed. Tymandain Shadowbearer and the Enlightened had engineered the war of five Pendragon princes, destroying the Order, and on the day that Calliande had awakened, Shadowbearer had been waiting there to kill her and open the gate.

  All her efforts had failed…but she had achieved her goals nonetheless.

  The Enlightened had been culled from Andomhaim. The realm was reunified once more under a strong High King, and Andomhaim would march to join the Anathgrimm and the dwarves and the manetaurs against the Frostborn. They might be defeated, but they would have their best chance of victory.

  That had been her goal, but she could take no credit for her success. She had failed so many times, and without the help of Ridmark and the others, Tarrabus would be the High King, the Enlightened would have triumphed, and no one would be coming to the aid of the Anathgrimm and Mara.

  She looked at Ridmark. He stared into the crowds, his eyes distant. Calliande felt a wave of affection go through her, and she wanted to take his hand, or to kiss him, or perhaps draw him off so they could finally, finally be alone with each other.

  Without Ridmark, she would have failed on the very day of her awakening.

  Armor clanked, and Arandar strode to join them, shaking Calliande out of her musings.

  “Your Majesty,” said Calliande.

  Arandar snorted. “I suppose I am. Odd to hear that from you, since we met while we were all vagrants in the Torn Hills.”

  “It has been a long road here,” said Ridmark. “But you are the High King at last, and that is as it should be.”

  “I hope you are right,” said Arandar, “and that God grants me the wisdom to rule well.” He looked at Calliande. “Do you think I made the right decision by not killing Tarrabus then and there?”

  “You are the High King,” said Calliande. “Do you think you made the right decision?”

  “I recall that in the ancient chronicles,” said Arandar, “it is said that the Keepers often answered the High King’s request for counsel with a question.”

  Calliande laughed. “That we did. I think your way is best. Tarrabus wanted to think of himself as a living god. Let the entire realm see him as a beaten prisoner first. More, let his crimes be recorded and set into the histories, so they cannot be repeated. I wanted to purge the Enlightened from Andomhaim, and we have done it. Now let us cauterize the wound so it can never be poisoned again.”

  “It would have been more merciful to kill him,” said Ridmark. “His pride will not let him admit that he made any mistakes. He will chew over his regrets over the years like a wolf gnawing upon its own leg.”

  “Given all the blood upon his hands, it is still less than he deserves,” said Arandar.

  “Regret,” said Ridmark.

  Both Calliande and Arandar looked at him.

  “I’m sorry?” said Arandar.

  “I think regret might be the worst punishment,” said Ridmark. “When you look back on the things you should have done.” He looked at Calliande. “Especially the things you should have done before it was too late.”

  Calliande wondered what he meant by that.

  “Perhaps Tarrabus Carhaine shall have the chance to learn,” said Arandar.

  ###

  His cell was about twelve feet by twelve feet, and Tarrabus Carhaine paced back and forth, back and forth, his left hand rasping against the healed stump of his right. He ignored the cheers coming from his window as the fools of Tarlion celebrated. They had put him in one of the highest towers of the Citadel, no doubt so he could watch the fools rejoice in their impending destruction.

  The people of Andomhaim had failed him. They deserved their deaths, just as his vassals and servants deserved death. Tarrabus would have transformed mankind into gods…but it seemed that mankind did not deserve it after all.

  “It was Imaria’s fault,” he said, the fingers of his left hand rubbing the hard scar tissue on the stump of his right. “It was her fault.” He wore a rough shirt and trousers, the clothes of a freeholder, hardly worthy of his station. “She should have summoned a stronger creature. It was Malvaxon’s fault. The faithless rat fled the field. It was Timon’s fault. He should have brought more reinforcements…”

  The guards outside his cell listened to the endless muttered monologue, over and over again.

  “It was Imaria’s fault. It was Tymandain’s fault. It was Paul Tallmane’s fault. It was the Red Family’s fault. It was Timon’s fault. It was Malvaxon’s fault…”

  ###

  After the service in the Great Cathedral finished, the nobles and knights who had gathered filed out and went to the great hall of the Citadel, to feast before returning to the work of war tomorrow. Ridmark walked with them, looking at the splendor of the Cathedral, at the vast thic
k pillars rising to the vaulted ceiling, at the narrow windows of stained glass showing scenes from the scriptures.

  He looked at those images, and he thought about the things he regretted.

  How he had failed to save Aelia, how there had been no way he had been able to save Morigna. How he had killed Tymandain Shadowbearer but Imaria had opened the gate anyway.

  About how he had kissed Calliande in the tower of Castra Durius.

  Yes, there were things he regretted…and with that, Ridmark came to a decision.

  Odd that the decision made him feel nervous. He had gone into Urd Morlemoch twice and Khald Azalar and a score of other dangerous places, but he still felt nervous now.

  It only made sense. He had been nervous the first time he had done this.

  He found Calliande walking with Antenora, Third, and Gavin as they approached the Cathedral doors.

  “Calliande,” said Ridmark.

  She smiled at him. “Ridmark.”

  “I need to talk to you for a moment,” said Ridmark.

  Third blinked a few times, and then she smiled. She actually smiled, and she never smiled.

  Of course Third would guess what he had in mind. She knew him too well by now.

  “Certainly,” said Calliande.

  “Alone, if possible,” said Ridmark.

  Antenora frowned. “We should remain with the Keeper to ensure her safety.”

  “From the Gray Knight?” said Third. “In Tarlion, the Keeper is surrounded by a thousand Swordbearers and Magistri. Today she is safer than she will be for months and years to come. Let us go to the feast of the High King. I am sure they will join us shortly.”

  “As you wish, then,” said Gavin. “I have to admit that I am hungry.”

  “You are often hungry, for you fight with vigor,” said Antenora.

  Third joined Antenora and Gavin them as they walked to the Cathedral doors. She cast one last smile in Ridmark’s direction, and then her usual cold mien returned.

  “Did she just smile?” said Calliande.

  “She knows me too well,” said Ridmark.

  “What does that mean?” said Calliande.

  “I will show you,” said Ridmark.

  He walked with her to a corner of the Cathedral behind one of the thick rectangular pillars. Above them a window of stained glass showed the Dominus Christus walking across the water to the Apostle Peter.

  “What’s wrong?” said Calliande.

  “Nothing,” said Ridmark. “I was thinking about regret.”

  “We both have them,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Ridmark. “We do.” He thought of a dozen different things to say and discarded them all. Instead, he took her right hand between both of his, and she blinked in surprise. “I don’t want to add to their number.”

  “What do you mean?” said Calliande.

  “This is what I mean. Marry me,” said Ridmark, his heart racing.

  Despite his nervousness, he had the distinct pleasure of surprising her for once. Her blue eyes went enormous.

  “What?” she said, stuttering over the word.

  “Become my wife,” said Ridmark. “In a few days, we’re going to march to war against the Frostborn, and we both might be slain. That is unavoidable. But if we are, I would bitterly regret if we were not wed first. I love you, and your life is precious to me.”

  “Ridmark,” said Calliande.

  She carefully leaned the staff of the Keeper against the pillar, took both his hands in hers, and suddenly he was certain she was going to explain why this was a bad idea. Perhaps she would speak of her duty as the Keeper, how nothing could come before that. Or maybe she would say that she dared not become with child during the war to come, despite what she had said to him in Castra Durius.

  Instead, she drew close and kissed him as hard as she had ever kissed him.

  It went for a long time. At last she stepped back and stared up at him, eyes wide, her chest heaving.

  “That…doesn’t answer the question,” said Ridmark.

  Calliande laughed. “For God’s sake! Doesn’t it? Yes, Ridmark. The answer is yes. The answer was always, always, always yes.” She kissed him again. “I love you, Ridmark. I think I loved you from the first day we met.”

  He felt himself smiling. “Good.”

  “Let’s find a priest,” said Calliande.

  “Now?” said Ridmark.

  “Like you said, regrets,” said Calliande, her fingers grasping his. “And this is the Great Cathedral of Tarlion. We’ll take the first priest we see and command him to wed us on the spot.”

  He started to ask if she would rather have Arandar and the chief nobles attend, but he abandoned the thought. He could see that she did not care, and neither did he.

  “We’ll need a witness,” said Ridmark.

  “One of the churchwardens,” said Calliande. “Ridmark.” She pressed against him, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I don’t want to wait any longer. My whole adult life, I’ve been alone. I was the Keeper. There was never a man for me, not ever. I was always a virgin. I want it to be you. Now. Now.”

  She stepped back, still holding his hands, and her fingers seemed to burn against him even as her blue eyes smoldered.

  “Yes,” said Ridmark. “A priest. We…”

  Blue fire swirled next to him, and Third appeared, calm as ever.

  “I assume the traditional marriage rite requires a witness,” she said.

  Calliande laughed. “How did you know?” She squeezed Ridmark’s hands. “Did you tell her?”

  “Not a word,” said Ridmark.

  “His intentions were obvious,” said Third. “Queen Mara commanded me to look after the lord magister. In addition to his physical health, that includes the state of his heart and soul. Your presence improves both.”

  “Oh,” said Calliande. “I would hug you but I know you don’t like to be touched.”

  Third inclined her head. “Thank you.”

  “A priest,” said Ridmark, looking into the nave of the Cathedral. “We’ll find a priest and Third will serve as witness.” What he really wanted to do was to pick up Calliande and carry her to the first place where they would not be disturbed, but he was going to do this properly.

  He started to turn, and then staggered as the heartbeat thundered inside his head.

  ###

  Calliande blinked, grabbing the nearby pillar to keep her balance.

  The heartbeat pulsed inside her head, utterly silent, but she heard it with her thoughts. To judge from Ridmark’s frown, he heard it too.

  The heartbeat subsided, but it continued, low and steady.

  And beckoning. It was calling to her, but she was sure it was calling to Ridmark as well.

  “What is wrong?” said Third.

  “The heartbeat,” said Ridmark.

  “Heartbeat?” said Third. “You both look healthy.”

  “That’s not it,” said Calliande. “For the last several days, Ridmark and I have both been hearing a…a heartbeat, or a sound like a heartbeat, inside our heads. It’s coming from inside the Tower of the Keeper. I would know what it is, but I removed the memory of the Tower from my mind.”

  Third considered for a moment. “Then this heartbeat is dangerous?”

  “I don’t know,” said Calliande. “It might be. It might not be.”

  “The heartbeat isn’t stopping,” said Ridmark. “Before it’s always stopped. Not this time.”

  He was right. The heartbeat continued inside Calliande’s head, low and insistent. There was something different, though, something that had changed…

  “Do you feel that?” said Ridmark.

  “Aye,” said Calliande, frowning as she focused on the strange sensation. “It’s like a…compulsion, a summons.”

  “A summons?” said Third. “Have you visited Tarlion since you awakened below the Tower of Vigilance?”

  “No,” said Calliande. “When we entered the gate with Arandar was the first time I passed the walls
of Tarlion in…centuries, in truth.”

  “Then it seems you left yourself a message,” said Third. “Something that would summon you once you returned to Tarlion. A weapon, perhaps? Something you would need against the Frostborn?”

  Ridmark met Calliande’s eye. “We…should probably see what it is.”

  Calliande wanted to scream in frustration.

  Could she and Ridmark not have a single moment alone together? She forced back the emotion and mastered herself. Both Ridmark and Third were right. The heartbeat had been calling to them, and she feared that it was connected to the mysterious dreams that Ridmark had been having for the last year.

  Whatever it was, they had to find the truth of it.

  “Very well,” said Calliande. “We’ll go to the Tower of the Keeper and discover what is happening. But then…I want to come back here. Immediately. Without delay.”

  “As do I,” said Ridmark.

  “We’re betrothed now,” said Calliande. “We have to come back.”

  Betrothed. She liked the sound of that. She would have liked the sound of “husband and wife” even better, but duty had to come first.

  “Yes,” said Ridmark. “We do.”

  The three of them walked from the Great Cathedral, heading for the Tower of the Keeper.

  Chapter 24: Heartbeat

  “Third,” said Ridmark as they walked along Tarlion’s streets.

  The sun was slipping away beneath the city’s walls to the west, and dusk was gathering between the houses. Soon the Tower of the Moon would begin glowing and illuminate the city, but for now, a growing gloom gripped the streets of Tarlion.

  “Gray Knight?” said Third.

  “Go to the Citadel, tell someone where we are going, and then rejoin us,” said Ridmark.

  “A sound course of action,” said Third, and she vanished.

  Calliande frowned. “Why did you tell her to do that?”

  “If we run into trouble,” said Ridmark, “if you’ve got a malophage or something locked up in the Tower of the Keeper, someone should know where we are.”