Fire and Frost (Seven Realms Book 1)

by Goodner, Allen

“If my father wakes, have the chiurgeon take a look at him. I was told he would likely be in and out of consciousness for the next several days, however.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Charles. We will return as soon as we can.”

  With that, he turned his horse to the open gate, and cantered through it. The sun had only risen some few minutes before, and Alaric wanted to cover as much ground as he could this day. Based on Martin’s description, they could reach the Monsignor on the morning of the third day if they pushed hard enough on the first and second. Alaric had no intention of wasting even one more minute.

  In addition to the two knights and the sergeant, three squires accompanied them. These, too, were selected for their ability at horse. It had been so long since Alaric had squired anyone that he had almost forgotten how nice it was to have someone else along to carry additional equipment. He, Jehan, and Rodick all carried lances, and the squires brought extras. They also carried much of the travelling equipment and extra necessities and comforts.

  They rode that whole day and into the night. With such accomplished horsemen at his side, Alaric made better time than he had figured on. When he finally called a halt, he realized he was more than half way to the outer edge of the search area. It was time to consider what he wanted from the next day. If he entered the search area at night, he might stumble across the Monsignor when he wasn’t expecting to. Based on what he could piece together, he thought that might be a bad thing.

  “Squire,” he ordered, “please bring me the map Father Bayard sent along.”

  The map was quickly delivered and stretched on the ground. Alaric used a lantern to light the area and several stones to hold the map down in the light wind. He studied it carefully for some time before calling the others over.

  “Very well, gentlemen, as best I can make out, we are about here,” he said as he pointed to an area on the map, “The area my brother described is about here,” and he slid his finger across the map.

  After the sergeant and the knight had a moment to study the map, he continued, “This area, roughly ten miles by ten miles, is the area Martin believes we will find Monsignor Manitoc and Sir Gyire, the traitor. Are either of you familiar with the area?”

  Both men shook their heads. The borderlands were not a huge area, and they did not have a huge population. What people lived there tended to clump together for defense; both from the Igni and nature. Alaric was not surprised that neither was familiar with the area; he probably had the best general knowledge of his father’s lands of anyone, and he was unsure of the area himself.

  “If I may, sir,” a quiet voice came from behind them. “I was born and lived as a child in a village in this area.”

  Turning to the squire, Alaric smiled reassuringly. There were knights who would punish the boy for speaking out of turn, but Alaric was not one of them. He beckoned the adolescent to come closer to the map.

  “Very well then, Squire, what can you tell us of the area?”

  “Well, my lord, my village was about here,” he pointed to an area just inside the search area, “It still is, I guess, though I haven’t been able to return since I was accepted as a page in your father’s court. We used to drive herds through this area here.”

  “And?”

  “Part of the reason we used that area was there were Ancient ruins. There was nothing really exciting, but a few old walls were standing. We would use those as shelter from dust storms, or to anchor tarpaulins if a bad storm rolled through. If you’re looking for something of the Ancients, that’s where I would look, my lord.”

  “Very well then, Squire. I certainly wouldn’t know where. We’ll try your site. Based on that, it looks like we can take tomorrow’s ride just a little easier than today’s. I wouldn’t want to ride hard enough that we could get there without any light left; it would be too dangerous for us and the horses. We’ll aim to get there about an hour after sunup day after tomorrow.”

  The next day’s ride was somewhat easier. Alaric knew how far he wanted to go, and with someone familiar with the area, he could better judge how much ground they had covered and how much more they needed to cover before resting. When the sun set, he believed the group to be about an hour away from their goal.

  Once more he made sure everyone was ready before the sun rose. As soon as it was light enough to see, they started out. They left early enough that they led their horses for the first half-hour or so. Before they could mount their horses, however, Alaric sensed something wrong. It seemed as if the air itself had come alive and was warning them away.

  “I think we’ll want to keep walking,” he stated. “It will slow us down, but it should also delay anyone hostile from seeing us.”

  The sergeant and the younger knight had both sensed the change in atmosphere as well and readily nodded their agreement. The party stayed on foot for another three quarters of an hour. Just as he was about to decide he had misjudged, he saw the first of the walls the squire had described. At this distance, it rode low over the horizon, but he had described the initial walls as being like those of a castle, and standing fairly high.

  As they drew closer, they began to hear the noises of men laboring. No, not men, beasts. They heard the normal sounds of saw and hammer, but they also heard unfamiliar noises: rattles, hisses, growls, and other sounds not associated with any human or those animals they used to assist with labor.

  He turned to the others. “I think we want to leave the squires here. We’ll stand a better chance of getting close if we don’t have the horses.” As he handed the reins of his horse to one of the squires, he also pulled a signal whistle out from his saddle bag. “If you hear this, bring the horses at a run.”

  With that, the three warriors made their way as stealthily as possible to the ancient ruins. It helped that there was nothing on the walls watching for them. Alaric almost snorted at their approach; if anything did look over the wall, they would be seen easily. Nevertheless, he knew this might be their only chance.

  Nearer they drew and nearer. Their progress was not steady; stealth required they move unnaturally. It was obvious that Rodick had no experience at this kind of movement, but he was a quick learner, and Alaric had learned this kind of approach from Jehan himself. Over the course of an hour they made their way to that wall. Once there, they kept close to it and moved along its length. Before long they came to a gap where they peered inside.

  “Lord God, preserve us,” Alaric breathed.

  Sergeant Jehan had none of Alaric’s inhibitions about cursing. “Fuck.”

  There, laboring in the early morning sun, were over one hundred demons. Their shapes defied description. No two, from what they could see, looked alike. They dug in a pit which they appeared to be widening as well as deepening. At the far edge of the growing chasm was a large pavilion; it was the only sign of human life. The horse in his father’s livery confirmed that the castellan was there.

  “Now we just have to get through over one hundred inhuman beasts, arrest him, detain the Monsignor, and make it back out again. This should be interesting,” Alaric muttered sarcastically.

  Once again, Jehan proved he did not share his young lord’s inhibitions. “Fuck.”

  CHAPTER 28

  “Alaric, you know this is madness, right?” Sergeant Jehan had never been very good with titles and was even less so where Alaric was concerned.

  Alaric shook his head. “It’s not madness. I’ll grant you it’s desperate, and the two certainly look very similar, but it’s not madness.”

  Sir Rodick grimaced. “My lord, I must agree with the sergeant.”

  Alaric sighed, “Listen, we need to get into the monsignor’s tent. We need to see what we can find there. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to catch the traitor Gyire there as well. To get into the tent, we have to get through, or at least around, that camp unnoticed. Now, it is possible they see very well in the dark, but we know they see well enough during the day. We’ll blend in better at night, even if th
eir eyes are somewhat more sensitive than ours. That means going at dusk, when the light is worst for everyone, gives us the best chance of getting in.”

  “Why not send one of us back for reinforcements?”

  “Two reasons. First, I’m not certain how long the Frost Fiends will stay away while their Silverback heals. Second, I’m not sure we could bring enough men quickly enough to do anything useful. It looked like there were at least a hundred of those monsters. If they’re anything like the ones I’ve already fought, they’re too much for any one knight to handle. To be sure we could overpower them would take at least three hundred knights; they simply move too fast for the arquebus or fusil tempête to hit them reliably. Getting that many men here would take at least a week, and that’s on top of the time it would take one of us to get back. No, our best tactic is stealth.”

  Jehan nodded, though Sir Rodick still looked somewhat dubious. Alaric got the idea that Jehan had been arguing as much to make sure Alaric had thought things all the way through as because he disagreed with the choice of tactics. Sir Rodick’s objections had been somewhat more sincere, but he nodded as he considered what Alaric had said.

  With the issue settled, the three found a concealed spot, set a tent up as shade, and began to rest. If things went well, they would want to be on their way tonight. Riding at night was dangerous enough. Riding at night while tired was a recipe for disaster. Of course, if things did not go well, they would also want to be on their way tonight, possibly at great speed.

  Alaric never more than dosed. Besides the stale heat of the air under the shade they had erected, he was simply too keyed up. Here, if all went well, he would finally have his answers. This very night he might be able to find the key to stopping the Frost Fiends and preventing them from coming back into his father’s lands. He might even find a way to spare his brother from death without ignoring justice.

  The interminable hours passed. The sun rose high overhead, baking the landscape. Alaric was used to this kind of heat, to the brutal environment of the desert. Nevertheless it was uncomfortable. Besides the inability to avoid the heat, there were bugs and pests in the desert that just didn’t show up inside the castle walls. By the time the sun began its march down to the west all three men were sore, uncomfortable, and as ready to go as they could be.

  They shed their armor, and donned long mottled brown-on-brown cloaks. They would not exactly blend in to all of the surrounding terrain, but they would not be quite as visible as if they had been wearing chain and carrying shields. Each one carried a long dagger on his belt and another shorter dagger in his boot. They devoutly hoped to get in and out without confrontation.

  Once more they led their horses. They wanted them close at hand should they need a speedy getaway, but they would be too easily seen if they rode. On foot they made their way back to the camp. This time, they skirted around it, giving the area a wide enough girth that they were unlikely to be seen, but staying close enough that it would not take them all night to achieve their objective.

  Finally Alaric judged they had circled far enough, and they began their approach. Any observer would have been amazed at how quietly they moved, but that was another reason Alaric had picked Jehan and Rodick. Alaric personally knew Jehan to be proficient at quiet movement, and he knew that any scout worth his weight would also have studied the discipline. They made their way in near silence to the camp.

  At the edge, Alaric halted their advance. A fire was going, but the urgent activity of the morning seemed to have died down. Alaric hoped that meant most of the monsters were curling up to sleep. In the dim light he could not get a count of how many of them there were.

  He turned back to his companions. “Jehan, come with me, about fifty paces behind until we reach the camp. Rodick, you stay here with the horses. If we need you, ride like the wind.”

  Receiving two curt nods, Alaric began his final approach toward the tent he had seen earlier that day. Sir Gyire’s horse was still tethered outside, but he could see no glow indicating anyone awake in the tent. His scan of the area did not provide any other likely areas, so he continued with his plan.

  Before he was halfway to his destination, he saw a light begin to peek out from under the edge of the tent. The opening was facing away from him, so he could only assume they had been elsewhere in the camp, and had just returned to the tent. Now he was faced with a question. Should he abort his plan and try again later, or continue?

  Pausing for the barest of moments, he chose to continue. If he was lucky he would be able to get right up beside the tent, and eavesdrop on whatever was going on in the tent. Then he could still choose to leave if the situation turned out to be more than he thought they could handle.

  He reached the tent without further incident. He carefully wove his way through the tent ropes and moved lightly as close to the cloth as he could. Then he crouched, keeping the balls of his feet on the ground, so he was coiled to leap up at a moment’s notice. He motioned Jehan to join him quietly, then he leaned in as close as he dared and listened.

  “The dig progresses, my lord,” he recognized the voice of Sir Gyire, though it sounded different, thicker.

  “It progresses too slowly.” Alaric did not recognize the voice which responded, but it did not sound human. It sounded old and hollow, and it echoed as if it were coming from inside a cave, or a helmet which was too large for the head it covered.

  “My lord, the Fueren are not adapted to this sort of endeavor. They work hard, but… well, it is hard to dig when one does not have hands.”

  “I do not want excuses. My other servants will be here on the morrow. I will need the entrance exposed before then.”

  “My lord, we have nearly reached the entrance, but I do not know if I can reach it before tomorrow morning. Even if I force the Fueren to work all night, I’m not sure we can reach it. And, once we do, who knows what wards are on the door?”

  Alaric did not like that line about “other servants.” He crawled quickly over to where Jehan sat in a crouch similar to his own. He looked around to make sure they still seemed to be out of sight, then whispered, “As far as I can tell, there are only the two of them, what do you think?”

  Jehan considered for a moment before responding in a whisper as well, “I don’t think there’s any way for us to know. Certainly we’ve only heard the two voices, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone there who just hasn’t spoken. From what we can tell it would make sense, however.”

  “If I gave the order, how quickly do you think we could be inside the tent?”

  “It’s well tied, so we would have to cut it open. That wouldn’t take long itself, but it would alert them to what is happening. We would have to be very fast to maintain surprise.”

  “My thoughts as well. Then when I signal, we’ll move in hard and fast; maybe we can overwhelm them before they can get their defenses ready.”

  Alaric moved back closer to the tent. Once again he leaned in closely.

  “I tell you, there was nothing I could do. You never contacted us, and he became unstable. For all I know he has confessed all,” Gyire was saying.

  Once more that hollow voice spoke, “Do not give me your excuses. You failed me. By now my Frost Fiends should have taken the castle. Instead, they return here on the morrow. Because of this frail shell, I must appease them rather than ruling them, and your incompetence in hampering the defenses plus your incompetence here means I may not be able to hold their allegiance. I can always gain it back once I am released from my prison, but that necessity will vex me greatly. You do not want to see me vexed.”

  “Great One, I have done all I could. Everything in my power…” the former castellan’s voice started sounding panicked. Suddenly his screams ripped the air.

  Alaric reacted at once. A corpse could provide no answers and could not face justice, “Now!” he cried.

  Before the word was fully out of his mouth, he and Jehan both slashed large holes in the side of the pavilion. They leapt throu
gh the impromptu entrances, keeping low and rolling into the room. Completing their rolls almost in tandem, the coiled their legs under themselves and looked up.

  Straight into the points of spears.

  Four of the monsters, Alaric assumed these are what was meant by the term Fueren, stood over him and the sergeant. Alaric looked past them to the two men in the center of the tent. Sir Gyire looked worn and weary. A vicious red scar ran around his neck as though he’d been partially choked with a hot wire. His eyes seemed dead and hollow.

  Beside him stood a small man with thinning hair. His hands were soft and his skin fairly pale. Obviously this was the Monsignor he’d sought for so long. Just as obviously, he was not the man who had left the King’s court all those months ago. Where Gyire’s eyes were dead and hollow, this man’s eyes blazed with a purple light.

  The eight froze in a tableau for several long seconds. It was obvious they had not been detected, but neither would they win their objective. All of them simply stared at each other for a long moment.

  Jehan broke the spell first. “Alaric, run!” he barked as his legs uncoiled like springs. He swung his long dagger like a sword pulling one of the spears off line. At the same time, he grabbed the second one pointing at him, and shoved the spear firmly back into the breastbone of the strange creature holding it. As it stumbled, he reversed the motion and yanked the spear from its hand.

  As though Jehan’s actions were the first hole in a dam, everyone else began reacting at once. Gyire covered the distance between himself and a camp table in two long strides, recovering his sword. The Fueren rushed forward to overwhelm Alaric and the sergeant.

  Alaric sprung up as Jehan had. Without the separation between him and the Fueren that the sergeant had enjoyed, he stepped to the inside, between the second of the two Fueren he faced and the one Jehan had disarmed. Setting his feet, he struck forward and slammed the blade of his dagger home into the chest of his armed opponent. Almost negligently he grabbed the spear from its suddenly limp grasp.