Frost Fever

by Jonathan Moeller

  “You looked surprised,” said the Knight.

  I blinked again. The Knight’s voice was deep, but unmistakably human, and he spoke with a marked Texas accent.

  “Been a surprising sort of day,” I said.

  “Yes, it has,” said the Knight. He looked at Alexandra. “Nice abs.”

  She flinched. In all the excitement, she had forgotten about her torn jacket and blouse. Now she grabbed them and pulled them closed.

  “I am married,” Alexandra said, her face bright red.

  “Though so, honey,” said the Knight. “It’s a good thing to be.” The blue eyes turned to me, and I was struck by how cold they were. “You’re not.”

  “Nope,” I said. “Why? Are you asking? Is that what you do? Abduct women to be your brides? It’s very old-fashioned, I’ll give you that. If I kiss you, will you turn into a frog? Or do you turn into a wolf every full moon if you don’t have true love’s kiss?”

  “For God’s sake!” hissed Alexandra.

  I stopped talking. I have a bit of a smart mouth, as I have pointed out in the past. When I’m stressed or frightened, it kicks in, and I was very stressed and very, very frightened.

  “Does she always talk so much?” said the Knight.

  “I…haven’t known her very long,” said Alexandra.

  “I hope you’ve known her long enough,” said the Knight, “to explain how you came to Grayhold. I’ve been watching the Shadowlands for a long time, and it’s very rare for two women to come here alone.” He looked back at me. “And it’s even rarer for any human to know the spell to open a rift way.”

  “We were in Madison,” said Alexandra. “I…I work for Duke Carothrace, his event coordinator.”

  “I see,” said the Knight. “I reckon the Jarl’s visit kept you mighty busy.”

  Alexandra blinked. “How did you know about that?”

  “He’s the lord of Grayhold,” I said. “I imagine quite a few of the warded ways pass near his demesne.”

  “Your well-informed friend is correct,” said the Knight. “Now, Mrs. Ross. Please continue your story.”

  “There were Rebels,” said Alexandra. “Disguised as Homeland Security officers. They tried to assassinate the Duke and the Jarl. God, for all I know they succeeded. There were bombs scattered around the Capitol.” She shivered, holding her torn blazer closed tight. “One of the bombs was right in front of us. If Irina hadn’t opened her gate to this place, it would have killed us both.”

  “I see,” said the Knight. “And where does a twenty-year-old girl from Wisconsin learn to open a rift way?”

  “Someone taught me,” I said. “I had a really…effective teacher, let’s say.” I couldn’t bring myself to call Morvilind a good teacher. And I wasn’t about to tell the Knight or Alexandra anything about Morvilind. He had made it very clear what would happen if I told anyone about him.

  Of course, considering the kind of magical power the Knight possessed, he could make me tell him anything he wanted.

  He could probably make me do anything he wanted.

  I shivered a little, and not from the chill filling the gloomy hall. God, but I hated feeling powerless.

  The Knight snorted. “A true answer that contains absolutely no useful information. I think you have a gift for those.”

  I shrugged. “We all have our talents. Not all of us can shoot lightning bolts from giant suits of magical armor.”

  “Why were the anthrophages after you?” said the Knight.

  “They wanted to eat us,” I said. “They eat people. Enthusiastically. I think a lord of the Shadowlands ought to have realized that by now.”

  “They especially prefer fertile young women and children,” said the Knight. “But they were looking for you, Irina Novoranya. You, specifically. That fat anthrophage? An anthrophage elder. Such creatures rarely leave their lairs, and usually rely upon their packs to bring them food.” That send a little shudder through me. The thought of getting dragged off to an anthrophage’s lair was nightmarish. “So what could rouse an anthrophage elder to waddle its fat carcass into the wilds of the Shadowlands? It was looking for you personally, Miss Novoranya. I would be much obliged if you could tell me why.”

  I shrugged. “Guess I ticked the anthrophages off.”

  “How did you do that?” said the Knight.

  “I killed one in Los Angeles a few weeks ago,” I said. “Shot it, and got the hell out of there before its friends could chase me down.”

  “Anthrophages don’t come to Earth unless someone summons them,” said the Knight. “Which means they were in Los Angeles looking for you. Why?”

  I said nothing.

  “The answer you give to that question, Miss Novoranya,” said the Knight, “might determine whether or not you ever leave Grayhold.”

  I sighed. “Their masters. I had irritated their masters.”

  “What masters?” said Alexandra.

  The Knight’s cold eyes turned to her. “Pardons, Mrs. Ross. But have you ever heard of a book called the Void Codex?”

  I stiffened.

  “No, never,” said Alexandra.

  “Have you ever heard of the Dark Ones?” said the Knight.

  I gave him a sharp look. The Knight didn’t notice or care.

  “Dark Ones?” said Alexandra. “That sounds like some sort of ethnic slur.”

  The Knight nodded. “I thought as much.” He gestured again, white light flaring around his armored left hand, and light swallowed the world again.

  When it cleared, I found myself standing next to Alexandra in another massive, gloomy hall. Rows of pale blue crystalline cylinders rose from the floor, shining with a gentle glow, and within those crystals…

  I swallowed, alarm flooding through me.

  Within those crystals were people, men and women in a variety of clothing. Some wore expensive suits and dresses, others the garb of soldiers. Others wore ancient clothing, robes like those of Sipad-Zid the Seneschal or even stranger garments.

  “The Hall of Attainder,” said the Knight. “You will rest here for a time, Mrs. Ross.”

  “What?” said Alexandra, her eyes widening. “You’re going to put me into one of those crystals? No, don’t, don’t…”

  The Knight gestured, and pale blue light blazed from his hand. Alexandra screamed, throwing up her hands to cover her face, and the blue light wrapped around her. As it did, the light hardened and coalesced, and an instant later Alexandra stood motionless within one of those crystalline cylinders.

  “You son of a bitch,” I snapped. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “If it is any comfort,” said the Knight, “she is completely unconscious, and is in no pain whatsoever. She’s also safer than she has ever been in her life.” His cold eyes fixed upon me. “Certainly she is safer here than she is with you.”

  “I didn’t just freeze her inside a giant crystal,” I said.

  “You did not,” said the Knight. “But let us be candid. I didn’t contemplate stabbing her in the back, did I?”

  “What are you talking about?” I said.

  “I watched you from the moment you set foot within my demesne,” said the Knight. “I saw you contemplate killing her so you could escape.” His expression remained calm, his drawling voice relaxed, but his eyes were like chips of ice. “Were you going to kill her as soon as it was convenient, or did you want to save the pleasure until you could savor it properly?”

  “I did nothing of the sort,” I snarled, though I knew he was right. “And don’t presume to lecture me.”

  He raised a blond eyebrow. “Presume?”

  I waved a hand around us. “I’m not the one with the giant fortress full of frozen people. What did they do? Piss you off? Look at you funny? Arrive late with the pizza delivery?”

  “They,” said the Knight, “are worshippers of the Dark Ones. Come to Grayhold to make mischief on behalf of their dark gods. I put Mrs. Ross into stasis so she remains safe while I decide what do with you.”
<
br />   “And just what are you going to do with me?” I said, my heart beating up again. There was no way I could fight him. Magically, he could crush me in a heartbeat. Physically, he looked like he could pick me up and bench press me. Under other circumstances, having his hands on me might have been fun…

  I shoved that thought right out of my head.

  “Mrs. Ross didn’t know what the Void Codex and the Dark Ones were,” said the Knight. “You, ‘Miss Novoranya’, did not even blink. You know what the Dark Ones are, and only two kinds of humans know about the Dark Ones. Their enemies, and their servants.”

  I sneered. “And you think I worship the Dark Ones?”

  “A woman with knowledge of both rift ways and illusion magic?” said the Knight. “What other explanation is there for your existence?”

  “You want the truth?” I said. “Fine. I’m a thief. A really good one, too. Last month I robbed a rich guy on Conquest Day, and I happened to stumble across his secret shrine to the Dark Ones and his copy of the Void Codex. I got out alive, but I pissed off the Dark Ones in the process, and the anthrophages have been looking for me ever since.”

  “Closer to the truth this time,” said the Knight, “and plausible, but still not the entire truth.”

  “I’ve told you as much of the truth as can tell you,” I said.

  “I would believe you,” said the Knight, “but common thieves, even good ones, don’t know how to open rift ways. Common thieves don’t know how to Cloak themselves. The Inquisition kills any humans who learn illusion or mind-control magic…and they also kill any Elves foolish enough to share those spells with humans. That’s a very good Cloak spell, you know, if it was good enough to Cloak you from an anthrophage’s senses. A lot of Elves know how to Cloak, but there’s only one Elven wizard with the skill to Cloak himself from an anthrophage…”

  A fresh wave of dread went through me. “Are you friends with a lot of Elven nobles, then?”

  “Hardly,” said the Knight. “But there’s a wide country between ‘friend’ and ‘mortal enemy’, and a few Elven nobles live there.” He nodded. “I know who you are, then.”

  “Go on,” I said, making myself smirk. It was hard to do when frightened. “This ought to be amusing.”

  “You are one of Lord Kaethran Morvilind’s special little slaves,” said the Knight, “the ones he trains to do his dirty work.”

  I stared at him, my mind frozen with surprise.

  Then three things occurred to me.

  First. Kaethran? Fifteen years I had known Morvilind, and I had never found out his first name. Though if I was dumb enough to use it in front of him, he would probably make my head explode or something.

  Second came a wave of fury that the Knight had called me a slave. Yet he wasn’t wrong, was he? Morvilind might not have documents proclaiming that he owned me, but he didn’t need anything as crude as chains to make me obey him. If I screwed up, he would kill me and Russell would die of frostfever, and that was enough to make me do whatever Morvilind wanted.

  Third came fresh terror. Morvilind had been clear about what would happen if I ever told anyone about him. With the vial of blood from my heart, he could kill me anywhere. Not even a demesne in the Shadowlands could shield me. If he realized that the Knight had figured out that I worked for him, Morvilind would kill me without hesitation.

  For a moment utter despair gripped me. There wasn’t any way out of this. From the moment that I had seen Rogomil in the crowd, everything had gone wrong. I shouldn’t have tried to warn Alexandra. The minute I had seen Rogomil, I should have run like hell, waited for a chance to steal the amulet once all the smoke had cleared. Instead I had been an idiot…and now I was dead.

  And now Russell was dead.

  I stood in silence, waiting for my death.

  “Well?” said the Knight. “Nothing to say?”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said. “Just shut up.” His eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Oh, I guess not many people take that tone with the great and powerful Knight of Grayhold? Just shut up and kill me already. Or turn me into one of your weird crystal sculptures. Either way, I’m dead. At least if you kill me I won’t have to listen to your stupid accent.”

  “And just what is wrong with a Texas accent?” said the Knight. He seemed amused, damn him.

  “Come on,” I said. “The dark lord of some ancient fortress in the Shadowlands has a Texas accent? Any minute I expect you to start singing about how the stars at night are big and bright deep in the heart of Texas.”

  “I have not seen Texas,” said the Knight, “in a very long time.” For a moment he stared off at nothing, and then nodded. “And that little tantrum proves your story.”

  “Tantrum?” I said.

  “Morvilind told you that if anyone learned you work for him,” said the Knight, “he would kill you. Is that it? Probably with a vial of heart’s blood, I would reckon.”

  “How…do you know that?” I said.

  “Kaethran Morvilind,” said the Knight, “does not like to get his hands dirty. He trains human agents to do his dirty work for him. He teaches them a few spells and some useful skills, and makes sure that he has a hold over them, usually a loved one he can use to compel them. Then he uses his agents until they get killed, and he begins the process all over again.” His smile was cold. “Did you think you were the first one? That you were the first time he has done this? The Conquest was over three hundred years ago, and Morvilind has been very busy since.”

  “You know him?” I said. “He’s a friend of yours?”

  “We’ve spoken a few times,” said the Knight. “Though in the wide country between ‘friend’ and ‘mortal enemy’, he’s a closer to the enemy side of the border.”

  I considered that. Maybe the Knight knew something useful I could use against Morvilind. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “That I would not want to fight him,” said the Knight. “Not even in Grayhold, here in the heart of my power.”

  “Why not?” I said.

  “Because of all the Elven wizards,” said the Knight, “Morvilind’s only equal in skill and power is the High Queen Tarlia herself. And Morvilind has a genius for the art of magic that she simply does not.”

  “Really?” I said. I had known Morvilind was powerful, but I had never guessed that he might be the most powerful Elven wizard on Earth. “Then why isn’t he…”

  “A Duke?” said the Knight. “A high magistrate of the High Queen’s government? You’ve met him, right?”

  “Oh,” I said. “Good point.”

  “He is respected,” said the Knight, “but widely hated and feared. No one will follow him, but no one will cross him. Perhaps the entire Inquisition might challenge him, but only if the High Queen herself ordered it. Morvilind does have the High Queen’s favor, for he was the one who found the path to Earth.”

  “He did?” I said. Morvilind himself had never mentioned that. For that matter, none of the official histories did, but all the official histories claimed that Earth had been a wasteland of war and death until the High Queen had arrived and brought humanity to order with her benevolent justice. I suspected the truth was a bit more complex.

  “He did,” said the Knight. “Suffice it to say, Morvilind is no friend of mine, and may even stand in the way of my duty. Your secret shall remain safe with me.”

  I forced myself to swallow my pride. “Thank you.”

  “And now,” said the Knight, “I’m going to do you a favor.”

  “Oh, goody,” I said.

  “I’m going to give you a choice,” said the Knight. “If you like, I will kill you quickly and without pain, and I will then send Mrs. Ross unharmed back to Madison.”

  “That’s not really compelling,” I said. “Let me guess. You want me to do something for you.”

  “Not at all,” said the Knight. “I want you to promise to do me a favor. At some point between now and the end of your life.”

  “Why?” I said, watching him. He real
ly was a handsome man in a rough-hewn sort of way. Put him in a cowboy hat, boots, and a dusty coat, and he could have been the lead in a video drama set in the ancient American West. Of course, with his magical power, he could probably make himself look like anything he wanted. I wondered if he was really human.

  “Morvilind,” said the Knight, “is not the only one who might find your particular set of skills useful.”

  I burst out laughing. “Oh, God. You want me to steal something for you.”

  “Something like that,” said the Knight. He spread his hands. “In fact, I’ll even help you with your current task. You can consider it an audition to see if you can do a favor for me.”

  “And just what do you know about my current task?” I said.

  “I reckon,” said the Knight, “that Morvilind sent you to steal the Ringbyrne Amulet from Jarl Rimethur.”

  “How do you know that?” I said.

  “Because the amulet,” said the Knight, “is exactly the sort of relic that Morvilind would covet.”

  “What does it do?” I said.

  The Knight shrugged. “Not entirely sure. Maybe you can figure it out when you steal it.”

  “Why do you want to help me steal it?” I said. “So you can have it for yourself?”

  “Not at all,” said the Knight. “I have no use for it.”

  I snorted. “Right. I wasn’t born yesterday. You’re planning to screw me over.”

  “Screw you?” Again his eyebrows rose. “You’re a very forward young lady. We only just met.”

  “That’s not…” To my great annoyance, I stumbled over the sentence, and I felt a little heat in my face. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “They were your words, not mine,” said the Knight.

  “My words, but not my meaning,” I said. “Is this how you usually meet women? Do they actually fall for the gloomy-dark-lord-in-his-ruined-castle routine?”