Perhaps that explained why Excalibur’s magic allowed the sword to cut through nearly anything. The sword cut through flesh and bone and steel with equal ease. If Arandar had wanted, he probably could have used Excalibur to slice a tunnel through the walls of Tarlion.
The horsemen rode from the courtyard of the Citadel, down the ramp that encircled the stone crag upon which the fortress stood, and into the Forum of the Crown, the Great Cathedral of Tarlion rising on one side and the Castra of the Swordbearers on the other. From there they circled around the Citadel and rode down the Via Ecclesia until the Tower of the Keeper came into sight.
All the while, that strange bell tolled.
And as the Tower came into sight, Arandar realized that something was indeed wrong.
The Tower of the Keeper had been a place of silent mystery all his life. Its grounds stood behind a low wall of white stone, the Tower rising from a copse of ancient oak trees. The Tower itself was a slender structure of white stone, topped with a dome of greening copper several hundred feet above the ground. Mist had always wreathed the woods at the Tower’s base, and more mist had concealed its windows. Anyone who ventured into the grounds of the Tower, even the most powerful and skillful Magistri, disappeared at once, reappeared unconscious on the street a few blocks away, and did not wake up again for a day and an hour. The Tower had been a mystery that no one could solve, but it had been a harmless mystery. It never hurt anyone, and only those who dared to venture within its grounds were subject to its power.
Now gray light flashed up and down the Tower’s length. The mist in the windows rippled and lashed. The mist in the trees flowed in thick, ragged curtains, and the trees themselves seemed to stir, their heavy branches whispering as the leaves brushed against each other.
“Master Kurastus,” said Arandar.
The old Magistrius bowed his head and cast a spell, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated. Then his head snapped up, his eyes wide, his mouth open in surprise behind his white beard.
“Your Majesty,” said Kurastus. “The magic within the Tower…it has always been there, but it has been dormant. Yet something awakened it.” He frowned and gestured, white light seeming to flicker around his fingers. “And…I think there is a magical gate of some kind within the Tower. A world gate? No, something else…”
The bell clanged three more times in rapid succession.
Then the Tower seemed to fall asleep.
The ripples of gray light vanished. The mist stopped writhing, and settled back to its slow, steady swirl through the oak trees. The windows of the Tower were once again concealed with the mist, and the bell fell silent.
Kurastus cast another spell. “I think…the Tower is dormant once more, my lord King. The magic around it feels the same as it always did. I am uncertain of what has transpired.”
Arandar looked at Third. “My lady, I think you had better tell us what happened.”
Third nodded. “The lord magister and the Keeper were alone in the Great Cathedral, and then they both started to hear the heartbeat.”
“Heartbeat?” said Caius, edging his horse closer.
“A heartbeat,” said Third. “Evidently since the Tower of the Keeper came into sight from the siege camps, both the Keeper and the lord magister have been hearing an identical heartbeat inside of their heads from time to time.” The others shared a look. “Additionally, the lord magister has been suffering sharp nightmares for the last year, nightmares that he always forgot on awakening. The Keeper believed the source of the dreams and the heartbeat was in the highest chamber of the Tower of the Keeper, though she was not sure.”
“How could she not be sure?” said Constantine.
“The Keeper evidently removed her memory of the Tower, just as she removed her other memories before going into the long sleep,” said Third. “She feared that Tymandain Shadowbearer or one of the Enlightened might be able to gain access to her memories and therefore obtain a powerful weapon to use against us.”
“Go on,” said Arandar. “What happened when you went to the Tower?”
“The Keeper was able to enter, for the magic yielded to her, and the lord magister and I went with her,” said Third. “As we climbed the Tower, her fear increased, and she almost turned back from the highest chamber. I began to suspect that the Keeper had concealed a weapon of great power within the Tower.”
“What was in the highest chamber?” said Arandar.
“Two spirits,” said Third. “One was a woman gowned in fire whom I did not recognize, though her features seemed to shift between those of Calliande, the lord magister’s late wife, and the sorceress Morigna. The other spirit was that of Morigna herself.”
“Morigna?” said Kharlacht, startled. Arandar recalled that Kharlacht had always gotten on well with Morigna, though Arandar himself had found her caustic and unpleasant and possibly dangerous. “How is that possible?”
“I do not know,” said Third. “Morigna’s spirit said that she was sorry, and then a gate opened. It pulled the Keeper through it, and the lord magister jumped after her. I would have followed them, but the gate closed the minute he passed through. By then, I suspected the Tower’s defenses were returning to life, so I used my power to escape and warn you.” She shrugged. “That is all I know on the matter.”
“Master Kurastus?” said Arandar. “What do you make of it?”
“I do not know, your Majesty,” said Kurastus, shaking his head. “The Keepers of old kept many secrets that they did not share with the Magistri. The Keeper Calliande has shown powers and abilities beyond the reach of the Magistri. Perhaps this is another such power.”
“I have a possible explanation,” said Third.
“Please,” said Arandar. Third was older than anyone here, apart from Antenora, and thanks to her long centuries in service to the Traveler, she likely knew more of the ancient lore of the world than many others.
“I believe,” said Third, “that the gate took the lord magister and the Keeper to the hiding place of the sword of the Dragon Knight.”
Silence answered her.
“What makes you believe that, Lady Third?” said Kurastus at last.
“The balance of probability points in that direction,” said Third.
Marhand snorted. “A scholarly answer.”
“But a true one, Master Marhand,” said Third. “Consider. During the first war against the Frostborn, the Keeper and the Dragon Knight led the armies of the nations to victory against the Frostborn. The Keeper realized the Frostborn would return one day, and so put herself into magical sleep to await their return.”
“She recovered her memory at Dragonfall,” said Caius. “Her powers, and her memories.”
“But she did not recover any memory of the Tower of the Keeper, or what had happened to the Dragon Knight after she went into the long sleep,” said Third. “This suggests that the information was dangerous, and she dared not have it fall into the hands of Shadowbearer.”
“Lady Third is right,” said Kharlacht. “I was there when the Keeper awakened. Tymandain Shadowbearer captured her with my cousin Qazarl’s help, and he asked her about a staff and a sword. At the time, I did not understand the significance of the question, but the staff was obviously the staff of the Keeper. The sword must have been the sword of the Dragon Knight.”
“Or was he asking about a soulblade?” said Marhand, his doubt plain. “The Gray Knight slew with him a soulblade. He would have been wise to fear them.”
“But he did not, Master Marhand,” said Constantine. “I was there for that battle. Tymandain Shadowbearer did not fear us at all. Perhaps he should have because his pride and cruelty allowed Lord Ridmark to slay him with a soulblade. But it was plain that while he feared Calliande, he did not fear any of the rest of us.”
“But he would have feared the sword of the Dragon Knight,” said Arandar. “It helped defeat the Frostborn the first time.”
“Precisely, lord High King,” said Third. “Therefore, logic dictates that
since the Keeper knew the sword would threaten Shadowbearer, she needed to hide it away from him. Yet she also knew she might need the use of the sword if the Frostborn attacked. If the Frostborn returned, the Keeper would almost certainly go to Tarlion at some point. I conclude that the Keeper worked her spell so that her memory of the Tower of the Keeper would return after passing the gate of Tarlion, and the heartbeat was a compulsion to go to the Tower. Once she was there, the gate opened and drew her and the lord magister to the place where the last Dragon Knight had concealed the sword.”
“It is a good argument,” said Marhand at last.
“Very well-reasoned, Lady Third,” said Kurastus.
“Thank you,” said Third.
Kurastus blinked. “By chance, have you read the writings of Aristotle on logic in his book the Organon? I think you would find his discussion on the syllogism in Prior Analytics to be fascinating…”
“Perhaps there will be time for that later,” said Arandar. Kurastus was a good man and a powerful Magistrius, but if left unchecked, he could lecture on his beloved ancient Greek authors for hours at end. “Right now, we must assume that the Keeper and Lord Ridmark have departed to find the sword of the Dragon Knight. At the very least, that is what we shall tell the rest of the host.”
“We will?” said Gavin. Next to him, Antenora looked displeased. Likely she wished to have accompanied the Keeper. “But we’re not entirely sure.”
“No,” said Arandar, “but that is what we will assume. I had hoped to have the Keeper with us when we marched against the Frostborn. Her powers would have been useful, and her presence would have heartened the men. We laid siege to Tarrabus for weeks before she arrived, and with her help, we broke the usurper.”
In truth, Calliande’s absence troubled him more than he wanted to show in front of the men. The Keeper’s aid had been invaluable, both at Dun Calpurnia and during the long campaign across Caerdracon, and again during the battle before the walls of Tarlion. Without the Keeper’s aid, they would not have won the battle at Dun Calpurnia, and they might have been defeated by Tarrabus Carhaine.
What would happen when they faced the Frostborn without her?
Perhaps she and Ridmark would be able to return before the army faced the Frostborn in the Northerland, but Arandar did not like marching without the Keeper.
Nevertheless, he had no choice.
“It seems plain that the Keeper and Lord Ridmark went to secure the aid of the Dragon Knight,” said Constantine. “They have done this sort of thing before. They departed to win the aid of the dwarves and the manetaurs, who even now march to fight the Frostborn.”
Caius frowned. “Do you think she means to make Ridmark into the new Dragon Knight?”
Kharlacht shrugged. “Someone has to wield the sword. Given that most of us would be dead if not for Ridmark Arban, it may as well be him.”
“But the sword of the Dragon Knight carries a heavy price,” said Caius. “It holds the power of the ancient dragons, and grants mastery over all forms of fire, or so the lore of the stonescribes claims. Yet it is also said that the sword exacts a grim price upon anyone who carries it.”
Marhand snorted. “As if the Gray Knight isn’t already adept at inflicting grim prices upon himself.”
He had a point.
“Very well,” said Arandar. “We cannot let this change our plans. The army must march tomorrow to join our allies in the Northerland. We shall announce that the Keeper and Lord Ridmark have gone to find the Dragon Knight and recruit him to our cause, just as Ridmark found the Keeper.”
“That…seems dishonest, somehow,” said Gavin.
“It’s true as far as we know,” said Caius. “And the High King must tell the army something. If the army’s morale cracks even before we depart Tarlion, it could be disastrous.”
Gavin still looked unsettled, but he nodded.
“I should have been with her,” said Antenora, her raspy voice heavy with self-rebuke. “I should have accompanied her into the Tower. I should have insisted…”
“As should I,” said Third. She shook her head with a grimace. “If I had known the rift would close so quickly, I would have tried to follow. My sister asked me to look after the lord magister. But I fear both he and the Keeper have passed beyond our reach, Antenora. They must look after themselves. We can best aid them by ensuring the High King’s army is victorious until they return.”
“Agreed,” said Antenora, though she did not look pleased.
Arandar was not pleased himself, though for a different reason. Still, what was done was done. The aid of Ridmark and Calliande would have been invaluable in the battle to come, but if they had to fight without the Keeper and the Gray Knight, then they would fight.
And perhaps Third was right, and Calliande would return with the Dragon Knight to fight the Frostborn. The first Dragon Knight had been named…Kalomarus, yes, that was it. The histories that Arandar had read had spoken little of his powers, save that he was a fell warrior without peer, and he had been able to command the fires of the dragons, whatever that meant. Given the ice magic of the Frostborn, a little dragon fire would not go amiss.
“We should return to the feast,” said Arandar. “I suppose we ought to announce that the Keeper and Lord Ridmark have departed to bring the Dragon Knight to our aid. We might as well get the bad news out of the way.”
“Agreed, your Majesty,” said Marhand. “But perhaps Lady Third is correct, and it will not be bad news.”
“No,” said Arandar. “We…”
Antenora was frowning again, but this time she was looking at the sky, and a puzzled expression went over her gaunt face.
“Lady Antenora,” said Arandar. “What is it?”
“I…do not know,” said Antenora. “The Sight is stirring, but overhead. There is…”
She frowned again, and then her yellow eyes went wide, the symbols upon her black staff blazing into fiery light.
“Beware!” said Antenora. “The enemy comes! Beware!”
Arandar looked up, wondering if Soulbreaker had returned, and then he saw the frost drake diving towards them, its jaws yawning wide.
The creature’s body was the size of an ox and armored in silvery gray scales the color of ice. Its vast wings were like sails, its serpentine neck the length of a tree, and its eyes burned with blue fire. The gray-armored shape of a Frostborn warrior sat upon its back, one hand holding leather reins, the other raised to cast a warding spell. Around the drake flew dozens of the blue, insect-like shapes of winged locusari scouts.
The Frostborn had come at last.
The drake’s jaws yawned wide, and a blast of freezing mist burst over its fangs.
Chapter 3: Ice and Fire
Gavin looked at the sky in shock, surprise dulling his reactions for a critical moment.
It was impossible. The Frostborn were in the Northerland, fighting the Anathgrimm and the men-at-arms holding Castra Marcaine in Dux Gareth’s name. That was hundreds of miles away. Not even the Frostborn could have learned of Tarrabus’s defeat so quickly, and not even the Frostborn could have covered hundreds of miles of terrain in a few days.
Then Gavin realized that the Frostborn needn’t have bothered.
There had been frequent reports of frost drakes and locusari scouts ranging out of the Northerland and overflying the lands of Andomhaim. The Frostborn atop the frost drakes and the locusari scouts accompanying their masters had never engaged in battle, and they had only been content to observe. It was possible that the Frostborn knew more about what was happening in Andomhaim than the men of Andomhaim knew about events in the Northerland.
And if a Frostborn scout had seen the defeat of Tarrabus Carhaine, if they had seen the ascension of a new High King, if they had seen Arandar ride with a few knights and Magistri to look at the Tower of the Keeper…why, a bold Frostborn scout might have decided to take a calculated risk of ridding Andomhaim of its new High King in one sharp blow.
All that flashed through Gavin
’s mind in an instant.
In the next moment, he yanked Truthseeker from its scabbard at his side, the blade shining with white fire. The other Swordbearers were following suit, and both Camorak and Kurastus were casting spells, but it was too late. The frost drake had them dead to rights, and Gavin had seen the killing power of the frost drakes’ breath at Dun Calpurnia and Dun Licinia. The Swordbearers might be able to protect themselves, but anyone else would be frozen to death when the freezing mist touched them.
Fortunately, Master Kurastus was faster.
The old Magistrius shouted and raised his hands over his head, his fingers glowing with white fire. An instant later a dome of flickering white light appeared above the horsemen as the frost drake breathed its chilling breath. The plume of white mist struck Kurastus’s warding spell and spread over it in a half-dome, the white mist hardening into a layer of jagged ice. Had that freezing mist touched a living man, it would have encased him in a layer of ice, sucking away his life and warmth in a few moments.
Kurastus shouted and shoved his hands, and the half-dome shattered, the frozen shards spraying across the street and tumbling into the woods surrounding the base of the Tower of the Keeper. Antenora thrust her staff, and a gout of fire streaked across the night sky, striking the side of the frost drake. The creature shrieked and clawed higher into the air, and banked away. Antenora’s spell had hurt it, but the creature was still capable of fighting, and the Frostborn upon its back might be able to cast spells.
It would come around for another attack.
Before it did, the locusari struck.
They descended in a blue blur, gossamer wings blurring. The locusari scouts were the size of large dogs, albeit large dogs with foot-long blades attached to their segmented forelimbs. The creatures looked sort of like blue grasshoppers with eyes like faceted jewels, though Gavin had never met a grasshopper capable of killing a man, and the locusari were brutally efficient killers.
Frostborn: The Dragon Knight (Frostborn #14) Page 3