To her immense relief, he was not hurt. He looked tired, and he was breathing hard from his combat with the undead dark elf and the urvaalgs. God and the saints, if he had been hurt because they had stumbled into her long-forgotten plan…
Calliande drew a deep breath, intending to explain.
“Wait,” said Ridmark. “You had better check for any other urvaalgs or,” he looked at the scattered bones and blue armor plates, “or whatever that was.”
“Undead dark elf,” said Calliande. “Like the ones we saw near Urd Morlemoch. There have been hundreds of battles here over thousands of years.”
She focused her mind and drew on the Sight, sweeping it over the shore and the trees as she sought for enemies.
At once she saw the magical power around her, old and ancient and strong. A mighty warding spell maintained the wall of mist that encircled the island, and the Sight itself scattered against the mist, blocked by its power. Over the island, Calliande saw the echoes of thousands of ancient spells of terrible power, spells with the power to rip down mountains and tear open chasms. Here and there the Sight glimpsed other creatures of dark magic moving through the trees, or other undead wrapped in necromantic magic, but none of them were approaching.
For the moment, they were safe.
Yet beyond that, beyond the creatures and the undead and the spells, Calliande glimpsed a colossal wall of warding spells in the center of the island, magic intricate and powerful beyond her understanding.
“There aren’t any enemies nearby,” said Calliande.
“Good,” said Ridmark. He stepped closer and looked at her head. “That cut…”
“It’s already healing,” said Calliande. Healing magic was far less effective when cast on herself instead of someone else, but it would still work in time. A few hours would suffice to take care of the cut on her temple and the lump on her head. “Ridmark, I think we had better talk.”
“Yes,” said Ridmark. He led her to the fire. “Are we anywhere near Tarlion? We ought to get back as soon as possible.”
Calliande swallowed as she sat on a log. “I am afraid that we are as far from Tarlion as humans have ever gone in this world.”
He frowned. “Then where are we?”
“We are on an island in the center of the Lake of Ice beyond the northern reaches of the Wilderland,” said Calliande.
His frown sharpened. “Does that mean…”
“Yes,” said Calliande. “We are only two or three days away from Cathair Solas, the last city of the high elves on this world.”
Ridmark considered that for a moment, then reached over and withdrew two skewers of meat from the campfire.
“I think,” he said, passing her one of the skewers, “that you had better tell me the whole story. And I think we should eat, because I suspect that we will be on our way to Cathair Solas tomorrow.”
Dread pulsed through Calliande at the thought of Cathair Solas.
Of what awaited her there…and what would likely await Ridmark there.
“Yes,” said Calliande. “I can remember it all now. When we entered the Chamber of Sight in the Tower of the Keeper, all the memories returned.”
She took a bite of meat, chewed, swallowed, and started to speak.
“A long time ago,” said Calliande, “during the first war with the Frostborn, we were losing. The Frostborn were too powerful and too methodical. They were slowly pushing their way out of the Northerland, and they overran Caerdracon and conquered half of Khaluusk. The men of Andomhaim and our allies fought well, but…it was not enough. The Frostborn could bring reinforcements through their world gate at will. It might take them a few decades to grind us down, but sooner or later they would triumph. We needed help.”
“So, you went to Cathair Solas,” said Ridmark.
“It seemed the best course,” said Calliande, remembering those desperate days. “It had been done before. When the urdmordar laid siege to Tarlion five hundred years ago, the Keeper at the time traveled to Cathair Solas to ask for aid from the high elves. In response, Ardrhythain agreed to the Pact of the Two Orders, which created the Swordbearers and the Magistri. With the help of the Two Orders, the High King was able to break the siege and defeat the urdmordar.”
“What happened when you went to Cathair Solas?” said Ridmark.
“The High King agreed to my plan,” said Calliande. “I left Caerdracon with an escort of a hundred knights, fifty of them Swordbearers. They were led by a knight in the High King’s service named Kalomarus. He wasn’t a Swordbearer, but he was a veteran of the wars, and he knew how to lead men in battle. The Frostborn tried to stop us, and we fought our way loose and into the Wilderland. From there, we faced all the other dangers of the Wilderland…the creatures of dark magic and the dvargir raiders and all the others. That was the first time I faced Rhogrimnalazur, you’ll remember.” Ridmark nodded. “The survivors and I fought her creatures as we passed Urd Cystaanl, and we barely got past.”
“Then this is about the Dragon Knight, isn’t it?” said Ridmark. “Third was right. You went to Cathair Solas to summon the Dragon Knight.”
“Yes,” said Calliande, “but that came later. I didn’t even know the Dragon Knight existed at the time. I just hoped that Ardrhythain and the high elves would be willing to help us as they had helped our ancestors. By the time we crossed the Lake of Ice and reached the gates of Cathair Solas, there were only eight of us left – me, Kalomarus, and six of the Swordbearers.”
“What happened then?” said Ridmark.
“I asked Ardrhythain for aid,” said Calliande, rubbing her forehead as the sharp memories cut into her mind. She had been desperate and frightened, knowing that appealing to the high elves for aid had been a gamble. “I told him of the Frostborn, and Ardrhythain agreed to help us. He told us of the Dragon Knight. Long ago, dragons ruled this world but departed when the time of the elves came. The elves interred the bones of the dragons in Dragonfall, lest someone abuse their power.”
“I remember,” said Ridmark.
Calliande nodded. “The dragons left a sword for the elves to use, a sword that contained their power. The warrior who carried this sword was the Dragon Knight and could wield the might of the ancient dragons. In the high elves’ long wars against the dark elves and the urdmordar, the Dragon Knight had been their paramount warrior and their champion, but no high elf had wielded the sword since before Malahan Pendragon came to this world with our ancestors.”
“Then he gave you the sword of the Dragon Knight,” said Ridmark.
Calliande grimaced at the painful memory. “No. Not quite. He gave us the chance to wield the sword.”
“The chance?” said Ridmark. “There was a trial?”
“Of a sort,” said Calliande. “The sword…it has to be mastered. I don’t know exactly how. Each one of the knights lifted the sword and tried to wield it, and it rejected them. Or they failed the trial. The sword burned their hearts out of their chests. Kalomarus was the last one to try. He started at the sword for hours, gripping it with both hands. I thought it drove him mad, and he ranted and raved and screamed at the walls. But he held out, and he mastered the sword. He and I left Cathair Solas, and we returned to join the men of Andomhaim and our allies. The sword of the Dragon Knight turned the tide. As the Dragon Knight, Kalomarus could command fire, and he set the swords of the army ablaze with elemental flames that the Frostborn could not stand. It also let him control distance and time. He could open gates and travel hundreds of miles in an instant, and he could freeze time for a few moments, allowing him to strike down his foes while they were immobile.”
“Useful,” said Ridmark.
“It was,” said Calliande. “It let us push the Frostborn back to Black Mountain. I forced Tymandain Shadowbearer to abandon his gate, and I destroyed the soulstone powering it. The Frostborn were defeated, and I thought we could live in peace.”
“Then you learned that Shadowbearer had corrupted your apprentice,” said Ridmark.
&nb
sp; “Yes,” said Calliande.
She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to finish the meat. Ridmark was right. She would need her strength for the days ahead.
“But we knew about the Dragon Knight,” said Ridmark at last, tossing his emptied skewer into the flames. “We didn’t know what happened to him after you went into the long sleep.”
“No,” said Calliande, “but we do now.”
“Go on,” said Ridmark.
“I made my plan with Kalomarus,” said Calliande. “The Tower of Vigilance, the Order, all of it. We knew Shadowbearer would return, that he would try to bring back the Frostborn. I would go into the long sleep beneath the Tower, but Kalomarus would return to Cathair Solas, to bring the sword back to the high elves. But just as I would need to stop the Frostborn, we both knew Andomhaim might need the Dragon Knight again. If the Frostborn returned, we would need the Dragon Knight’s power to drive them back.”
“Then you planned to find the sword if necessary,” said Ridmark.
“Yes,” said Calliande. “I removed my memory of the sword and placed it within the Tower of the Keeper, but the spell would summon me when I drew close enough to Tarlion. That was the heartbeat that we heard, the memory calling me to the Tower. The minute I stepped into the Chamber of Sight, I remembered what Kalomarus and I had done.”
“And what did you do?” said Ridmark.
“Kalomarus used the power of the sword to create a gate leading from the Tower of the Keeper to the island of Cathair Solas in the Lake of Ice,” said Calliande. “If the time came, if I thought we needed the sword of the Dragon Knight, I would use the gate and retrieve the sword and choose another Dragon Knight.” She shook her head. “I was a fool.”
Ridmark blinked. “Why?”
“Because I thought that when I recovered my memories and realized that I was the Keeper,” said Calliande, “I would return at Tarlion at once to present myself to the High King. I didn’t anticipate the possibility that I wouldn’t come to Tarlion for nearly two years.”
“No plan of battle survives the first meeting with the enemy,” said Ridmark.
“Aye,” said Calliande. “And I’ve spent centuries teaching that to myself, it seems.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and Ridmark asked one of the questions that she had been dreading.
“Morigna’s spirit,” he said. “Why did I see her in the Tower of the Keeper?”
“You had been dreaming of her, hadn’t you?” said Calliande.
Ridmark snorted. “More like she had been inserting herself into my dreams. I suppose she was stubborn enough that even death itself could not keep her from having the final word.”
Calliande laughed a little. “That she was. She was in my dreams as well.”
“She was?” said Ridmark, giving her a sharp look. “What did she say?”
“She warned me that you were in danger,” said Calliande. Was he angry? Sad? She could not tell. “She said that I would have to save you.”
“And you did,” said Ridmark. He poked at the fire with Ardrhythain’s staff, stirring the coals. The heat of the flames did nothing to the staff. “From my wounds in the Stone Heart.”
“Aye,” said Calliande, though she did not think that was what Morigna had meant.
“I wish you would have told me,” said Ridmark.
“I…I should have,” said Calliande. “I didn’t know what to say. How would I have told you? ‘Good morning, Ridmark. I’m in love with you, and by the way, the spirit of your slain lover has appeared in my dreams.’”
Ridmark grunted. “That would have been a strange conversation. Much like this one.”
“I’m sorry,” said Calliande. “I should have told you.” She hesitated and took his hand. To her great relief, he did not pull away. “It was selfish of me. I…I just did not know how you would react.”
“Badly, probably,” agreed Ridmark. “Maybe it was for the best.” He squeezed her hand. “The other woman. The one gowned in fire. Did you know who she was?”
That was the second question that Calliande had dreaded. “Tell me about your dreams.”
“There was a hall of white stone,” said Ridmark. “An old knight sat on a throne, a sword across his knees. Maybe it was Kalomarus himself for all I know. Morigna was there, warning me about the woman gowned in fire. She said that the woman was calling to me, that she was summoning me, and that the woman gowned in fire would destroy me if she could.”
“Oh,” said Calliande, the dread increasing.
“You know who it is?” said Ridmark.
“I cannot be sure,” said Calliande, “but I think the burning woman that you saw is the spirit of the sword of the Dragon Knight.”
“It can talk?” said Ridmark.
“Is that so surprising?” said Calliande. “You said you had talked to that taalkrazdor in Khald Tormen, and to Excalibur before you used it against Tarrabus. Magical weapons have a will and a mind of their own, and the sword of the Dragon Knight is more powerful than any other weapon on the face of the world.”
“Then why is the spirit of the sword talking in my dreams?” said Ridmark.
Calliande took a ragged breath, trying not to let her fear show. “Because...I fear that means the sword has chosen you.”
“Chosen?” said Ridmark.
“I don’t really understand the process,” said Calliande. “Kalomarus refused to speak of it. But the seven knights who had reached Cathair Solas with me the first time…I think the sword chose all seven of them. Of the seven, Kalomarus was the only man strong enough to master the sword, or to resist its strength.”
“Then it seems clear what we must do,” said Ridmark.
The dread in her sharpened. “It is?”
“We must go to Cathair Solas,” said Ridmark, “and I must take up the sword of the Dragon Knight.”
“Ridmark,” said Calliande, her voice rasping a little. She forced moisture into her throat. “It might kill you. It might drive you insane.”
“Morigna said that,” said Ridmark. “She said the sword would destroy me if I let it.”
“Yes,” said Calliande. “This might have been a mistake. Perhaps we should leave at once and try to find a way back to Andomhaim…”
“No,” said Ridmark. “We cannot. If I can take the sword of the Dragon Knight, that will give us a powerful advantage against the Frostborn. You said it yourself – Kalomarus and the sword allowed you to turn the tide against the Frostborn during the last war. Tomorrow morning Arandar is going to march to join the Anathgrimm and the dwarves and the manetaurs, and they will need all the help we can bring them.”
“And I am not there to help them,” said Calliande, another stab of guilt going through her. God and the saints, what a fool she had been. What a proud, arrogant fool, thinking to arrange events that would happen centuries after she should have died. She ought to have been with the army of Andomhaim as it marched against the Frostborn.
Instead, she was here…and she might watch Ridmark die as he tried to claim the sword of the Dragon Knight.
Her folly might get him killed.
“You cannot save Andomhaim alone,” said Ridmark. “You gave them the chance to fight for themselves. And perhaps we can do more for them yet. Once before the Keeper and the Dragon Knight saved Andomhaim. Maybe they can do it again.”
“Perhaps,” said Calliande. She took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself down. The sword of the Dragon Knight might kill Ridmark. But he might die fighting the Frostborn, just as he might have been killed a dozen other times during their travels together.
But none of those times would have been the result of her plans. She didn’t want him to become the Dragon Knight. She didn’t want him to expose himself to the danger.
But he was right. Their duty demanded it.
“Do you know the way to Cathair Solas from here?” said Ridmark.
“Yes,” said Calliande. “We just head inland and go uphill. The city is in the center of the
island. It…is something of a majestic sight. It is hard to miss.”
“We’ll set out tomorrow, then,” said Ridmark.
“You’re very calm about all this,” said Calliande.
Ridmark shrugged. “After all the things I’ve seen in the last two years, traveling hundreds of miles in the blink of an eye and seeking a relic of legend seems…less remarkable than it should be.” He snorted. “Though since I met Ardrhythain and went into Urd Morlemoch when I was eighteen, perhaps I ought to say the last twelve years.”
They sat in silence for a while, watching the crackling fire.
“Ridmark,” said Calliande at last.
“Yes?”
She took a deep breath. “Are…we still betrothed?”
He looked at her in surprise. “What?”
“I made a grave mistake,” said Calliande. “It almost got both of us killed. And it might get you killed yet if you take the sword of the Dragon Knight and it burns out your heart.” For a moment, the present and her grim memories fused into one, and she seemed to see Ridmark with flames burning out the center of his chest. “And it would be my fault. My arrogance brought us here. And my foolishness might get you killed…”
“Stop,” said Ridmark.
She fell silent, swallowing the last sentence halfway through.
“No one can see the future,” said Ridmark. “Not even the Keeper of Andomhaim.”
“I should have been able to realize what would happen,” said Calliande.
“The fact that Andomhaim survived at all,” said Ridmark, “and that it is ruled by Arandar and not the cult of the Enlightened is because of you. The fact that the dwarves and the manetaurs are marching to aid the Anathgrimm and Andomhaim is because of you. Perhaps your plans did not always go as you wished, but the reason we have not been defeated is because of you.”
“Well,” said Calliande. “You had something to do with it. Maybe I did all those things, but I couldn’t have done them if you hadn’t stopped Qazarl and the Artificer and the Warden and Tymandain and the Weaver and God knows how many others from killing me.”
“No,” said Ridmark, and he laughed a little. Calliande blinked in surprise. He laughed so infrequently that it always caught her attention when he did.
Frostborn: The Dragon Knight (Frostborn #14) Page 5