“That is a long journey, sir,” said Ector, frowning. “And the bone orcs of the Qazaluuskan Forest are eager to claim victims in the name of their blood god Qazalask.”
Kharlacht rumbled in agreement. “There were worshippers of Qazalask in the mountains of Vhaluusk, distant kin to those in the Qazaluuskan Forest. They are riddled with superstitious madness, and kill for the slightest of reasons to appease their god.”
“It is a dangerous path,” agreed Ridmark, “but it is the least dangerous of our choices. We could circle around the Black Mountain to the north, but we risk running into the patrols of the Frostborn or blundering into the lairs of the urdmordar. We could head south along the Moradel, but that means we would have to cross the lands of nobles loyal to Tarrabus Carhaine. The bone orcs are dangerous, but they hold no loyalty to Tarrabus, and might decide to leave us alone. This route is our best chance to get the Keeper alive to the Range.”
He remembered Calliande lying motionless upon the road, the poisoned bolt leaking its venom into her blood.
No, he did not want to see that ever again.
“I agree,” said Calliande. She wore her green cloak and leather jerkin and bronze diadem today and looked the very image of the Keeper. “It is an evil road, to be sure, but the least evil of the choices before us.”
“So be it,” said Mara. “Qhazulak shall remain in command of the Anathgrimm during your absence, and we shall give you what supplies you think best. Brother Caius, you will accompany them?”
“I shall,” said Caius. “It has been a long time since I have visited Khald Tormen. Perhaps too long. In any event, if I am to return to my homeland at least it shall be for a worthy cause.”
“I shall come as well,” said Kharlacht. He glanced at Caius. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t get your head chopped off.”
“Also a worthy cause,” said Caius, “though I may be biased.”
“That,” said Kharlacht, “and I said I would see this through to the end. It is not yet over.”
“Thank you,” said Ridmark. Kharlacht was as reliable as the sunrise, and Ridmark would be glad of his help.
“Sister,” said Mara, and Third stirred. “I ask you to go with them to ensure the success of their mission. Bring them home safely.”
“It shall be as you say,” said Third.
“I have prepared your documents,” said Jager, producing a set of rolled scrolls with a flourish. “These name the Keeper of Andomhaim and the magister militum of Nightmane Forest as the ambassadors of Queen Mara, giving you full authority to negotiate in her name.” He handed the scrolls to Calliande. “Please don’t give away the Forest. We need it.”
“The manetaurs and the dwarves will recognize the danger,” said Calliande, “and we shall return with allies.”
Ridmark hoped that she was right. They needed allies, and they needed them now. Without them, Tarrabus and the Frostborn would almost certainly prevail.
And if not…Ridmark intended to leave a ring of slain foes around him.
###
They left that afternoon, crossing one of the hidden fords over the River Moradel and reentering the hills of the Northerland. The Anathgrimm had no use for horses, but some had made their way to Nightmane Forest nonetheless, and Ridmark led the way on horseback, scouting the path. Third and Kharlacht ranged with him, scouting for enemies. Sir Ector led his thirty mounted men-at-arms, and Gavin, Camorak, and Antenora hung back to defend Calliande in the event of an attack. Ridmark was glad that both of them had accompanied the Keeper. Gavin had grown into a formidable Swordbearer, and he had seen firsthand the devastation Antenora’s fiery magic could wreak, while Camorak could heal any injuries the Keeper suffered.
He had left Accolon at Nightmane Forest, the boy serving as squire to Qhazulak. Leaving him in Nightmane Forest was dangerous, but taking him closer to Tarrabus would be far worse.
They headed east, keeping away from the main roads. Ector had wanted to head southeast towards Castra Marcaine, but Ridmark overruled that idea. The bulk of the Frostborn forces in the Northerland were either at their citadel in Dun Licinia, building a new set of fortifications along the Moradel, or besieging Castra Marcaine. The further their party stayed away from those three locations, the better chance they had of slipping through the Northerland undetected.
“If not Castra Marcaine,” said Ector, “then what route will we take?”
“Northeast for two days along the Moradel road,” said Ridmark, “and then straight east along the valley of the River Marcaine until we reach the Qazaluuskan Forest. We’ll be in the most danger when we pass south of Dun Licinia. The Frostborn keep their heaviest patrols there, and we run the most risk of discovery. We shall have to move quickly and quietly.”
On the first day from Nightmane Forest, Third returned to report a patrol of medvarth flanked by locusari warriors. Ridmark led the riders into the trees, picking a winding path through the rocky hills, and Ridmark commanded the horsemen to wait as he and Third watched the enemy.
At a time like this, he especially missed Morigna. She had been able to use her magic to bind ravens and other animals to act as scouts, and that would have been useful. Ridmark watched as the medvarth marched along the road, overseen by a dozen khaldjari. Likely they were going to raise forts along the eastern bank of the Moradel. A half-dozen locusari warriors flanked the medvarth column, acting as outriders. Fortunately, they eluded the locusari warriors, and the enemy column continued on its way.
Ridmark rejoined the others once the medvarth soldiers were out of earshot.
“Did we avoid notice?” said Caius.
“Aye,” said Ridmark. Blue fire flashed, and Third reappeared next to Antenora’s horse. “Not by much, though.”
“Are they looking for us?” said Kharlacht.
“Not specifically,” said Ridmark. “More likely than not, they’re patrolling for any Anathgrimm warbands. We hit the Frostborn hard enough that they’ll be on their guard for some time.” He shook his head. “If I had known we would have to cross the Northerland, I wouldn’t have stirred up the Frostborn so much.”
“The Sight can give us some advance warning,” said Calliande. She had been quiet since they had left Nightmane Forest. Likely she had been using the Sight to scour their surroundings for enemies.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “The next two or three days will be the most dangerous. Once we get past Dun Licinia, the odds of encountering a patrol go down with every mile.”
###
“Then,” said Gavin, “we left Castra Carhaine…and, well, you were there for most of the rest of it.”
Third nodded, her black eyes never ceasing their inspection of the surrounding hills. “It is unusual to encounter Swordbearers of your age. Not unheard of, but unusual.”
“Gavin Swordbearer,” said Antenora, “has shown great valor.”
Gavin shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I’ve mostly been terrified and trying not to make a mistake. I don’t know if that is valor or not.”
He considered asking if she had met any Swordbearers and then realized that if she had, she had killed them in battle in service to the Traveler. Best not to raise that topic.
“And you have truly been to Old Earth?” said Third.
“For fifteen centuries I dwelt there,” said Antenora, “trying to atone for my sins by defending the people of Old Earth from dark magic. I do not remember much of it, which may be a mercy. When the Warden prepared to open his great gate, I saw a way to pass from Old Earth to this world, and I have served the Keeper as her apprentice ever since.”
“What is Old Earth like?” said Third. “I am curious. I heard it discussed in the old tales of Malahan Pendragon, but never thought to meet someone from there.”
Antenora considered for a moment. “It is much the same as this world. There are many factions and nations, all of them locked in endless struggle with each other. The men of Old Earth built many cunning devices and powerful engines and used them to work
both wonders and terrors. There…”
Hoof beats drummed on the road, and Antenora fell silent as Ridmark steered his horse towards them, riding at a good clip.
“Gray Knight,” said Antenora. “Is something amiss?”
“You’ve found something,” said Calliande. She had been silent as Gavin talked with Third and Antenora, lost in her own thoughts.
“I do not like some of the tracks I have seen ahead,” said Ridmark. “Does the Sight show you anything?”
Calliande shook her head. “We are too close to the world gate. Its aura overshadows everything. It’s a like trying to find a candle flame while staring into the sun.”
Ridmark nodded. “Third. Scout ahead. No more than three or four miles, and then return here. Sir Ector! We should halt for a moment.”
Ector gave the commands, the horsemen coming to a stop, and Third dropped from her saddle. She took one step forward and vanished in a swirl of blue fire.
“What do you think she will find?” said Calliande.
“I saw the tracks of many medvarth warriors ahead,” said Ridmark.
“I imagine that is not so unusual here,” said Calliande.
“It’s not,” said Ridmark, “but it is unusual to see medvarth tracks alongside prints that were made by either orcs or humans.”
Gavin frowned, trying to unravel the puzzle, but Calliande nodded first.
“Revenants,” said Calliande. “You think there are revenants ahead.”
“Probably,” said Ridmark. “The Frostborn are efficient. They don’t even let the dead go to waste. They’ll scour the battlefields, raise the dead as revenants, and gather them to use as fodder.”
“Perhaps it would be best to go around them,” said Ector. “We would gain nothing in fighting them.”
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark. Yet he kept tapping his fingers against his staff. Gavin had been in enough battles alongside Ridmark to realize that he was planning something. “Or perhaps…”
Blue fire swirled, and Third appeared next to his horse, staggering a little as she caught her balance.
“What did you find?” said Ridmark.
“Revenants,” said Third. “At least two hundred, perhaps two hundred and fifty. Mostly medvarth, but a few khaldjari and humans among them. Four or five cogitaers are leading them.”
“Are they heading this way?” said Ridmark.
“They are,” said Third.
“Likely they’re marching to Dun Licinia to join the Frostborn forces there,” said Ridmark.
“An interesting consideration,” said Ector, his voice tight, “but less important than the two hundred undead marching towards us.”
“We may not be able to go around them,” said Third. “The road passes through a narrow valley, and I doubt we can elude them without notice.”
“No,” said Ridmark. “There’s no need to go around them. We’re going to fight them.”
“Fight them?” said Ector, incredulous. “We are but thirty, and they are over two hundred.”
“Aye,” said Ridmark, “but of our thirty, two of them are the Keeper and her apprentice, and one more is a Swordbearer. We have enough time to prepare, and if we strike, we can keep an extra two hundred revenants from assailing the walls of Dun Licinia.”
Ector frowned. “I hope you have a good plan.”
“I think I do,” said Ridmark. “Let’s find out.”
###
Ridmark stood before the men-at-arms, Kharlacht and Caius and Gavin waiting near him. He had ordered the men to dismount, sending their horses back a few hundred yards. There was about to be a great deal of smoke, and Ridmark did not want the smell to spook the animals. Behind him stood Calliande, white fire flickering up and down her staff, while Antenora waited next to the Keeper.
A ball of fire spun over Antenora’s head, her staff glowing with harsh orange-yellow light. The sphere was already three or four feet across, and it swelled a little more with every revolution. Ridmark felt the heat from it beating against his face.
“Here they come,” said Gavin.
Ridmark saw the ghostly blue light before the revenants themselves appeared.
They marched forward, hundreds of them.
Most of them were dead medvarth warriors, ghostly blue fire flickering up and down their limbs and dancing in their eyes. Here and there Ridmark saw khaldjari among the revenants, the white glow in their eyes replaced by the cold blue fire of Frostborn magic. Ridmark supposed that most of them had been killed by the Anathgrimm. It was possible that Ridmark himself had killed some of them.
He did not see any Frostborn among them. The Frostborn possessed the power to raise and control revenants in great numbers, but so did the cogitaers. Third had spotted several cogitaers controlling the revenants, herding them along like shepherds. The cogitaers were less powerful than the Frostborn, but their magic was still dangerous.
Fortunately, the Keeper’s magic was just as potent.
The revenants went motionless, the blue fire in their eyes flickering.
“They’ve spotted us,” said Ector, his voice tight.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “And now the cogitaers are deciding what to do. Likely they will send the revenants to charge us, while they strike with a spell. The spell will kill most of us, and then the revenants will charge and finished off any survivors.”
“I hope you’re not certain of that,” said Ector.
“That’s their plan,” said Ridmark. “It overlooks a few things. Calliande?”
“Here it comes,” she said, and white fire blazed along her staff.
###
Calliande drew on the Sight, watching the currents of power.
Even with the distorting effect of the world gate on Black Mountain to the north, she saw the cold power gathered in the revenants and the icy magic gathering behind them. There were five cogitaers controlling the revenants, and the cogitaers took to magic the way that birds took to the air or fish to the sea. She saw them link their powers, saw them prepare a spell that would kill most of the men-at-arms.
Her own power surged through her, the magic of the Well fusing with the mantle of the Keeper. As she shaped the spell, the cogitaers struck, unleashing a blast of blue fire that hammered down from the sky like a meteor. When it struck, it would freeze anyone it touched, turning their blood to ice.
Calliande cast her warding spell, and a dome of white light shimmered into existence above the men-at-arms. The freezing fire hammered into it and shattered against the Keeper’s power. The combined power of the cogitaers exceeded her own strength, but the Keeper’s magic was proof against any other magic upon Andomhaim.
The blue fire winked out, and Calliande released her warding spell, drawing in her own power as the cogitaers recovered their strength.
“Antenora!” she shouted. “Now!”
###
Gavin watched as Antenora drew back her staff and thrust it forward, her face tight with concentration.
The ball of fire shot forward in a high arc, almost like a stone thrown from a catapult. It soared overhead and landed just before the charging revenants.
Even from dozens of yards away, Gavin felt the heat of the explosion.
The sphere ripped apart in a blast of flame, the fiery magic scything through dozens of revenants. Antenora made a twisting, hooking motion with her left hand as she thrust her staff again and the fire expanded, spreading across the road in a wall a dozen feet tall. The revenants continued their charge, heedless of the danger, and the elemental fire ripped into the undead creatures. Antenora’s fire was dangerous to living humans. Against revenants animated by the cold magic of the Frostborn, it was absolutely devastating. She had explained that elemental fire was the opposite of the power the Frostborn wielded, that their magic was vulnerable to hers just as a dry forest was vulnerable to a wildfire.
There was a flash of blue light and a gust of cold wind, and Antenora staggered back, shaking her head. The wall of fire collapsed as the cogitaers cast
a countering spell, leaving only ashes and cinders in its wake.
But Antenora’s fire had wiped out at least two-thirds of the revenants. Facing down two hundred revenants would have been impossible. Fighting sixty or seventy was far easier.
Especially with the aid of a Swordbearer.
Truthseeker flickered with white fire in Gavin’s hand as he drew upon the soulblade for strength and power.
“Now!” said Ridmark. “Charge! Make for the cogitaers! Calliande!”
The Keeper nodded and started casting a spell, her staff glowing, and Gavin shouted and ran alongside the other men.
###
Calliande gritted her teeth, forcing more power through another spell.
She struck the end of her staff against the ground, white fire erupting from it, and made a sweeping gesture with her left hand. The white fire leaped from her fingers, breaking apart to strike the weapons of the charging men-at-arms. The spell would make their weapons strike with greater force and power against the undead creatures.
Her next spell made white light sheathe the men themselves. It wrapped around them, armoring them in a gentle white glow that would help turn aside the strikes of the weapons of their enemies.
The men-at-arms crashed into the undead, the cogitaers preparing more spells, and Calliande turned her full attention to the battle.
###
Ridmark’s staff was of little use against the undead, so he drew his dwarven axe, the blade of dwarven steel giving off a gentle white glow thanks to Calliande’s spells.
Gavin had already charged into the revenants, Truthseeker a burning brand in his fist. He cut down one revenant, the soulblade tearing through the undead flesh like a hot knife through paper. Gavin ripped the sword free from the undead medvarth, wheeled, and cut down an undead khaldjari. The revenants attacked with the freezing touch of their hands, but Calliande’s great spell from a year past still protected them from their freezing grasp.
Frostborn: The False King Page 14