“I doubt not their valor, but their numbers,” said Calliande. “We have seized Caerdracon, but only because the Anathgrimm have protected us from the north. If they are overwhelmed, the Frostborn will fall upon us like a hammer. Or, if we tarry too long to defeat Tarrabus, Andomhaim may be too weak to stop the Frostborn.”
“Do you suggest we march north to aid the Anathgrimm?” said Arandar. “I dislike leaving Queen Mara to face the Frostborn alone, but we dare not leave Tarrabus a free hand.”
“No,” said Calliande. “I suggest that it is time that we find allies.”
Silence answered her.
“Letters were sent,” said Prince Cadwall at last, “to both the Three Kingdoms and the Red King of the manetaurs. They helped us against the Frostborn in ancient days, and I thought they would again. Yet their kings refused to send us aid. They will not intervene in a civil war within Andomhaim.”
King Ulakhur growled. “They are faithless to abandon us in the hour of our need.”
“I doubt they see it that way, my lord King,” said Gareth. “The manetaurs and the dwarves of the Three Kingdoms have treaties with the High King of Andomhaim. At the moment, there is no High King of Andomhaim – simply a usurper without lawful claim to the title and a Prince Regent who has not yet been able to take the throne.”
“When your neighbor’s family quarrels among itself,” said Cadwall, “best to stay out of it. Likely that is how the manetaurs and the dwarves see the matter.”
“A shortsighted policy,” rumbled Dux Kors of Durandis, scratching as his tangled gray beard. “If the Frostborn devour us while we war against Tarrabus, they shall turn their wrath against the manetaurs and the dwarves next.”
“It is possible,” said Dux Sebastian of Caertigris, “that the manetaurs have their own troubles and are unable to aid us.”
They all looked at him. A year ago, Calliande knew, that would have intimidated him. Sebastian Aurelius was the youngest of the Duxi. Now he did not flinch from their gaze. A year of war had hardened him.
“What kind of troubles?” said Arandar.
“Before I left to join High King Uthanaric’s summons,” said Sebastian, “we heard reports of strife within the Red King’s court.”
“There are always reports of strife within the Red King’s court,” said Leogrance. “The manetaurs love strife and discord to a degree that humans and even orcs find frankly incomprehensible. It is their natural state.”
“You speak truly, my lord Dux,” said Sebastian, “but I think this is more serious. The Red King Turcontar is growing old, and will soon be killed and replaced by one of the more ambitious Red Princes. Factions have developed around the most powerful of the Red Princes. If it comes to a civil war among the manetaurs, they will be unable to help us.”
“Mmm,” said Kors. “There are similar rumors of strife among the dwarves.”
“Truly?” said Arandar. “I thought the dwarves never warred among themselves.”
“They do not,” said Kors, “but the dvargir have been stirring up trouble for them. Something to do with a dark elven prince or another.”
“There is something you are overlooking, my lords,” said Calliande.
They all looked at her.
“The dwarves and the manetaurs have treaties with the High King,” said Calliande, “but they joined the fight against the Frostborn at the invitation of the Keeper. My predecessors in this office convinced the manetaurs and the dwarves to march alongside the armies of the High King to drive back the Frostborn.” She took a deep breath. “I believe I can convince them to do so once more.”
The lords considered this in silence for a moment.
“How?” said Arandar at last.
“I shall persuade them,” said Calliande, “however I can. The dwarves have their stonescribes, and the manetaurs have their arbiters. Both have recorded the history of their kindreds, and they know the danger the Frostborn represent. They know that if the Frostborn destroy Andomhaim, the Frostborn will come for them next.”
“We need you here,” said Arandar. “Your spells have been invaluable against the Enlightened.”
“I will not deny that,” said Calliande. “But you have the two Orders with you. The powers of the Magistri and the soulblades will be proof against the powers of the Enlightened. If we are to defeat the Frostborn once you are upon the throne of the realm, we need allies.”
“That means,” said Arandar, “the time to gather allies is now. Before it is too late.”
“Yes,” said Calliande.
“Who would you approach first?” said Arandar. “The dwarves, or the manetaurs?”
“The manetaurs,” said Calliande. “I have a previous connection with them…”
“Red Prince Curzonar,” said Arandar.
“You know Prince Curzonar, my lady Keeper?” said Sebastian.
“Aye,” said Calliande. “It was in the Vale of Stone Death, below the Gate of the West of Khald Azalar. Curzonar had come there as part of some dispute with another of the Red Princes…”
“Probably Kurdulkar,” said Sebastian.
Calliande blinked. “You know them?”
“I know of them, my lady,” said Sebastian. “They are the two most prominent sons of the Red King, and the rumors say one of them will kill the Red King and claim his throne within the next few years. Their enmity is said to be…unusually bitter. But you met Curzonar?”
“We saved his life in the Vale of Stone Death,” said Calliande. “He may need help against Kurdulkar. Curzonar said that Tymandain Shadowbearer had visited the manetaurs in recent years and turned some of them to the worship of the shadow.”
Sir Tagrimn snorted. “More of those vile Enlightened among the manetaurs?”
“It would seem so,” said Calliande. “If I can persuade the manetaurs to march against the Frostborn, I will then go to Khald Tormen and ask the dwarves to aid us.”
“Do you have a connection there?” said Leogrance.
“A dwarven Taalmak named Azakhun,” said Calliande. “We fought alongside him against Mournacht.” Brother Caius had also convinced Azakhun and his retainers to follow the faith of the church and accept baptism. “If I can speak to the King of Khald Tormen, I hope to convince him to send warriors to fight against the Frostborn.”
“Even if you are successful,” said Dux Kors, “it will take a minimum of three months to travel to the Range, then to Khald Tormen, and to return here. Perhaps even four months. We would not have your aid for our march upon Tarlion and Tarrabus.”
“I know,” said Calliande. “But I believe it to be worth the risk. The Magistri and the Swordbearers can counter the powers of the Enlightened. And the Anathgrimm desperately need aid. If the Frostborn break through the Anathgrimm before we defeat Tarrabus, then we are finished. I would not suggest this if I did not believe it was our best path to victory.”
And, if she was honest with herself, it was their only possible path to victory. Even a united Andomhaim could not have stood alone against the Frostborn, and certainly not the half of the realm that had stayed loyal to Arandar.
“I have one question,” said Gareth. “What of the Dragon Knight of old? According to the histories, you and the Dragon Knight led the armies of Andomhaim to victory against the Frostborn.”
“We did,” said Calliande, the memories of old Kalomarus flickering through her mind.
“What became of the Dragon Knight?” said Gareth. “The histories say he carried a sword of great power that burned with magical flame that the Frostborn could not resist. If the sword of the Dragon Knight could be found and wielded again, that would be a great boon to our cause.”
“It would be,” said Calliande. She sighed. “But I do not know what happened to the Dragon Knight. After the war, Kalomarus took first to Dragonfall to conceal my staff, and then to the Tower of Vigilance so I could await the conjunction of the thirteen moons. After that…after that I simply do not know what happened to him.”
Leogrance frowned. “The
histories only say that Kalomarus the Dragon Knight vanished from the realm, promising to return when we had need of him.”
“Well, we have need of him,” said Kors, “and he has not appeared.”
Calliande said nothing. Something else bothered her. She remembered Kalomarus very well. He had been one of her dearest friends. The Magistrius Marius had been like a second father to her, and the Keeper Ruth like a second mother. Kalomarus had been like an older brother – a sour-tempered, profane-mouthed, hard-drinking older brother, an older brother who had nonetheless been one of the most formidable warriors she had ever seen.
Yet she could not remember how he had become the Dragon Knight.
She knew he had been a minor knight when she had met him as the Keeper’s apprentice, and she knew that he become the Dragon Knight a few years after she had taken up the Keeper’s mantle…but she had no memory of how he had become the Dragon Knight, which seemed strange because it was an immensely important question.
There was only one possible explanation.
Calliande had removed the memory of the Dragon Knight’s sword from her mind.
When Tymandain Shadowbearer had captured her on the first day she had awakened, he had asked her about a staff and a sword. In hindsight, he had been trying to find the staff of the Keeper, hoping to claim the power of the Keeper’s mantle or at least neutralize it as a threat to his plans. The sword must have been the sword of the Dragon Knight. From what Calliande understood, the sword held the power of the last of the dragons that had once ruled this world before the high elves, and it bestowed that power upon its bearer.
Yet she didn’t know how Kalomarus had found the sword, or what had happened to it or him after the Frostborn had been defeated the first time.
She must have removed the memory from herself, just as she had hidden her memory the first time.
But why? It made no sense. Calliande had recovered her full powers. If ever she needed the sword of the Dragon Knight, it was now, in the hour of the realm’s dire peril. So why had she hidden it from herself?
For a moment, Calliande was so irritated with her own past decisions that she wanted to hit herself.
Once again, she could just imagine what Morigna would have said. Ridmark would have…
She pushed the thought of Ridmark out of her head. If she thought about him for too long, she would get upset, and she dared not show weakness before the lords and knights. The Keeper was supposed to be a figure of authority and calm and cool judgment, not a young woman weeping because her heart had been broken.
“I do not know,” said Calliande. “Perhaps after we take Tarlion and Arandar is crowned, we can search the records of the Magistri.”
“Many such records are recorded there, sealed only for the eyes of the Magistri,” said Master Kurastus. “There is also the Tower of the Keeper, sealed since you disappeared two and a half centuries ago. Perhaps there are secrets hidden within.”
“Perhaps,” said Calliande. “But for now, I believe we should focus upon the allies that we can recruit, and I believe we can gain the manetaurs and dwarves to our cause. If not to fight against Tarrabus, then to fight against the Frostborn alongside the Anathgrimm and Queen Mara. With your permission, Prince Arandar, I would like to depart at once.”
Arandar said nothing for a while, tapping his fingers on the table.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Your counsel seems good to me. I am loath to be deprived of your assistance, but your logic rings true. It means little if we defeat Tarrabus only to be overwhelmed by the Frostborn.”
“I shall leave before the day is out,” said Calliande.
“You will not go alone, I trust,” said Arandar.
“No,” said Calliande. “I will have my apprentice with me, along with Sir Gavin.”
“And additional men-at-arms,” said Arandar. “You plan to go to the Range first?” Calliande nodded. “Dux Sebastian. Please choose thirty men-at-arms to accompany the Keeper, preferably ones that have experience with the manetaurs and the tygrai.”
“It will be done,” said Sebastian.
“I will need to visit Nightmane Forest first,” said Calliande.
Arandar blinked. “Why?”
“Ridmark was the one who saved Prince Curzonar’s life,” said Calliande. “The manetaurs will respond favorably to him. Additionally, Brother Caius was with Ridmark, and Brother Caius was a noble of the dwarves before he became a friar. He will make a useful guide in Khald Tormen.”
Arandar stared at her, and Calliande felt a wave of embarrassment her. She half-expected Arandar to accuse her of going to Nightmane Forest to see Ridmark again. The truth of the matter was that they desperately needed allies, and the help of Ridmark and Caius would increase their chances of success. For that matter, she wanted to check on Queen Mara and the Anathgrimm. The warriors of Nightmane Forest had been fighting the Frostborn alone for a year, and she wanted them to know that they had not been abandoned, that as soon as the realm had been reunified the armies of Andomhaim would march to their aid.
All those were excellent reasons to go to Nightmane Forest.
Her heart dwelled upon a different reason, and she expected Arandar to accuse her of it.
“Again, you speak wisely,” said Arandar, and Calliande kept the surprise from her expression. Again she rebuked herself. She was the Keeper, not a love-struck girl. “Truth be told, I will be relieved if the Gray Knight travels in your company. If Tymandain Shadowbearer and Mournacht could not kill him, our enemies will find it hard to kill you in his company.”
Calliande glanced at Leogrance Arban, but the Dux of Taliand said nothing. He never did when the topic of Ridmark came up, and it annoyed Calliande. Arandar had lifted the decree of banishment against Ridmark. He was no longer exiled from the High King’s realm, but that did not seem to matter to Leogrance.
“I hope so,” said Calliande.
“Take our greetings to Queen Mara,” said Arandar, “and to Lord Ridmark as well.”
“I shall,” said Calliande.
“I will send messages ahead,” said Kurastus. “I know that some Magistri had to take shelter in Nightmane Forest as the Frostborn overran the Northerland. If Queen Mara has news of your coming, perhaps she can send an escort of Anathgrimm.”
“And our prayers go with you,” said Arandar, “for we need allies. Go with God, Calliande of Tarlion, and may the Dominus Christus watch over you.”
“Thank you,” said Calliande, and she turned to go.
“Lady Calliande?” said Arandar.
She paused. “My lord Prince?”
“Please,” said Arandar, “give my greetings to my children, once you arrive in Nightmane Forest.”
“I shall,” said Calliande, and she went to prepare for the journey.
###
Gavin laughed as he steered his horse through the northern gate of Castra Carhaine.
“Is something amusing?” said Antenora.
“A bit,” said Gavin, twisting in the saddle to look at her.
Thirty horsemen in the tabards of the House of the Aurelii, a golden lion’s head upon a field of green, rode around them, led by Sir Ector Naxius, a bearded middle-aged knight in Dux Sebastian’s service. Calliande rode in their midst, wearing her usual green cloak and jerkin, the staff of the Keeper across her saddle.
“What is amusing?” said Antenora.
“We went to so much work to enter Castra Carhaine,” said Gavin, “that it seems odd to leave the next day.”
“It is the nature of war,” said Antenora with a shrug. “One is ever on the move, and the fortunes of war change quickly.”
“Yes,” said Gavin. He hesitated. “I am looking forward to seeing the Gray Knight and the others again.”
“We have gone into great perils together,” said Antenora. “That creates a bond.”
Gavin sighed. “If they’re still alive.”
“We may hope,” said Antenora. “Though I am certain the Gray Knight is still ali
ve.”
“Really?” said Gavin. “I suppose we would have heard if he was killed.”
“Perhaps,” said Antenora, “but we would know at once. Calliande still carries the dagger he gave her. Every night, she casts the spell to track his location. If he had been slain, she would know.”
“Every night?” said Gavin, blinking in surprise.
“She misses him,” said Antenora, her voice a quiet rasp. “She is the Keeper, powerful and wise. It is easy to forget that she is relatively young.”
“She’s two hundred and fifty years old,” said Gavin.
“And she spent two hundred and twenty of those in enspelled sleep,” said Antenora. “Her heart is young…and it belongs to the Gray Knight.”
“I thought that,” said Gavin. “Of course, it is none of my business.”
Antenora said nothing for a while.
“Have you ever been in love, Gavin Swordbearer?” she said.
Gavin shrugged. “I thought I was. A girl named Rosanna, in my village of Aranaeus. She married my friend Philip. A year and a half ago, I thought she was all I wanted in the world. And now...” He shrugged. “I could not go back to Aranaeus. I have seen too much. And I have no family left.”
Antenora said nothing, gazing at the road.
“What about you?” said Gavin. “Have you been in love?”
She looked at him, opened her mouth, and closed it again.
“Oh,” said Gavin, and he remembered her history. Mordred Pendragon had seduced her long ago, leaving her cursed with dark magic that would not let her die. “Forgive me. That was rude.”
To his surprise, she smiled a little. It almost made her look alive again. “You are many things, Gavin Swordbearer, but rude is not one of them.”
They rode on in silence, heading north along the River Moradel.
Chapter 4: The Queen
Ridmark waited as the last of the Anathgrimm crossed the River Moradel.
The Moradel was the largest river in Andomhaim, broad and wide and deep, but in centuries past, the Traveler had commanded the Anathgrimm to construct hidden fords in the river. The High King had tried to destroy the fords whenever the Anathgrimm constructed them, but the Anathgrimm had built new ones. Qhazulak had pointed out three that Ridmark never even suspected existed.
Frostborn: The False King Page 6