He looked a great deal like Curzonar, though all the Princes of the Range were his sons, so they all looked like each other. The Red King wore gleaming red armor trimmed in gold, a jeweled spear in his right hand, a diadem of red gold on his mane. In Andomhaim the lion was often a symbol of kingly authority, and Turcontar looked the very image of regal majesty.
Yet Calliande also saw that the signs of age lying upon him. His mane was turning gray, and there were many, many scars on his face and neck and arms. Turcontar had seen many battles, and a cloak of grim weariness hung over him. Sooner or later one of his sons would challenge him. Likely the less prudent ones already had challenged him and had been dispatched for their trouble. Yet someday Turcontar’s strength would fail, and one of his sons would take his place.
But for now, the grim old manetaur’s eyes measured Calliande, seeming to sink into her like knives.
“I am no arbiter,” said Turcontar, his voice a deep bass rumble, “but from what I recall of our history, the last Keeper of Andomhaim disappeared two and a half centuries ago.”
“It is as I have said, father,” said Curzonar from his dais. “The Keeper of Andomhaim has returned. My warriors encountered her in the Vale of Stone Death. Clearly, she has regained her office and her powers.”
“Has she?” said another Prince, his voice a deep, rasping snarl.
Curzonar growled. “Kurdulkar…”
Calliande turned her head and saw Kurdulkar for the first time.
He lounged atop a dais on the opposite side of the courtyard, his crimson armor adorned with black highlights. He was leaner than Curzonar but no less muscular, his mane marked with white streaks from multiple scars. Calliande found herself reminded of the panthers that had come out of the woods of Taliand in her youth, hunting cats that remained silent and motionless for hours until they sprang upon their prey.
And when they moved, they moved with crushing, deadly force.
“I see only a woman with a stick and a diadem,” said Kurdulkar, his eyes upon Calliande. One of the manetaurs at the base of Kurdulkar’s boulder moved, and Calliande saw Ralakahr and his warriors. “Does this woman presume to call herself the Keeper of Andomhaim?”
“She is the Keeper of Andomhaim, Prince of the Range,” said Tazemazar, baring his fangs as he glared at Kurdulkar. “It is her scent, as recorded by the arbiters during the first war against the Frostborn two and a half centuries ago. Do you doubt the word of the arbiters?”
“Of course not,” said Kurdulkar. “Though it is good to see Curzonar was correct. He is often…confused…by such minor matters as details and accuracy.”
“Is that an insult, Kurdulkar?” snarled Curzonar.
Kurdulkar bared his fangs in turn. “Have I insulted your courage, brother? Your honor? Your prowess in battle? I have done none of these things. If the arbiters say this woman is the Keeper of Andomhaim, I require no further reassurances upon the matter.”
“We appreciate your confidence, Prince Kurdulkar,” said Tazemazar. The old manetaur hid the sarcasm well, but Calliande was certain it was there.
“No doubt,” said Kurdulkar. “But the Keeper claims to be an ambassador of ‘Queen Mara’ of Nightmane Forest? All the world knows that the Traveler has ruled Nightmane Forest from time immemorial.”
“The Traveler is slain,” said Tazemazar. “One of his daughters broke free of his control, slew the Traveler, and claimed the throne of Nightmane Forest for herself as Queen Mara.” That wasn’t quite how it had happened, but it was a good enough summary for the manetaurs. “If you doubt me, consider this woman.” He gestured with his staff at Third, who stood motionless behind Ridmark. “Once she was an urdhracos, but Queen Mara has broken the Traveler’s power, and she is human once more.”
“A likely tale,” said Kurdulkar.
“Come forth and smell her if you wish,” said Tazemazar. “She is something new, something the arbiters have not yet encountered. For that matter, Prince of the Range, we have all heard the stories coming out of Andomhaim. We know that two men struggle to claim the High King’s throne, that the Frostborn have fought the Anathgrimm. Why would the Traveler fight to defend Andomhaim? He would not, not unless someone had replaced him and taken his kingdom.”
“It is the custom of the manetaurs and the Red King to receive ambassadors,” said Curzonar before Kurdulkar could answer. “It is the Red King’s decision to receive ambassadors, and the Red King’s decision to turn them away. Have you decided to claim the power of the Red King already, Kurdulkar?”
Turcontar said nothing, but his head turned towards Kurdulkar.
“Of course not,” said Kurdulkar. “Long may our father reign.”
Turcontar’s gaze turned back towards Calliande, and then he nodded at Tazemazar.
“The Red King welcomes you to Bastoth, and wishes to hear your words,” said Tazemazar.
Again Calliande felt the weight of hundreds of manetaur eyes upon her. She kept her expression glacially calm but took a deep breath. Convincing the manetaurs to fight against the Anathgrimm might be the work of many days, and Kurdulkar and his faction would oppose her at every step. Yet as the previous Keeper had often told her, there was never a second chance to make a first impression.
She struck the end of her staff against the ground, calling upon her power. A thunderclap rolled through the garden, and a flinch went through the manetaurs and tygrai. Calliande worked a quick spell, one to increase the volume of her voice, and she started to speak.
“Hear me!” said Calliande, her voice ringing over the garden. “I am Calliande of Tarlion, Keeper of Andomhaim and ambassador of Queen Mara of Nightmane Forest. In this dark hour, I come to bear the greetings of Queen Mara, but I also bring news. Once before, the Red King marched with the allied kindreds of this world to throw back the Frostborn and close their world gate. The Frostborn were defeated once before, but they have returned, and wage war against all in their path. Now, my lord Red King, is the moment to attack. The Frostborn have sent forth the barest shadow of their power, and that has been enough to seize the Northerland and fracture the realm of Andomhaim. The Frostborn have but a foothold upon our world, but they shall expand, for they are as relentless as the storm of the sea pounding upon the cliff. In time they shall cover the entire world in ice, and enslave or destroy all kindreds. Therefore, Red King Turcontar, I ask that you call your Princes and your khalaths and your warriors and march to war against the Frostborn, as your ancestors did two and a half centuries ago. Once before the manetaurs threw back the Frostborn, and I ask for your strength and valor again. Queen Mara sends her greetings, and asks that you stand with her Anathgrimm warriors against the foe that threatens us all.”
The last echoes of her words died away, and silence hung over the courtyard.
Turcontar stirred, rising to his paws with a slow, stately movement. It looked majestic, but Calliande was close enough to see that he leaned a little upon his spear. She wondered if any of the manetaurs noticed. She wondered if Kurdulkar saw it.
“I greet you in turn, Calliande of Tarlion,” said Turcontar. His voice was deep and quiet, yet she had no trouble hearing it. Likely the acoustics of the vast garden focused upon the Red King’s dais. “I am glad of the honor that Queen Mara has done in sending ambassadors to greet the Red King. And I know well the dangers of the Frostborn. The arbiters speak of our great war against them in the past, when the Red King of that time declared a Great Hunt, marshaling the might of the entire manetaur and tygrai kindreds against the Frostborn.”
Calliande held her breath. Could it be that easy? Would Turcontar simply agree to her request and send help to the Anathgrimm?
Then Turcontar sat down again, and Calliande steeled herself.
Of course, it would not have been that easy.
“Yet that was a different era,” said Turcontar. “The world has changed. Perhaps the Hunters have changed with it.” He gestured with his spear. “What do the Princes of the Range have to say of this alliance?”<
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Chapter 14: Dissension
To Ridmark’s complete lack of surprise, Kurdulkar spoke first.
The manetaur Prince reminded Ridmark a great deal of Tarrabus Carhaine. On the surface, Tarrabus and Kurdulkar were nothing alike. Yet Kurdulkar had the same air of utter assurance, which in itself was not a bad thing. Both Dux Gareth and Ridmark’s father had the same air of confidence, a necessary quality in a lord and a commander of warriors. Yet Tarrabus’s confidence had an edge of contemptuous arrogance, and Ridmark saw the same sort of thing in Prince Kurdulkar.
Tarrabus had been willing to murder the High King and his sons and abandon the loyalist nobles to die. Ridmark wondered if Kurdulkar was capable of similar ruthlessness. Of course, the manetaurs thought nothing of a Red King murdering his predecessor to claim the throne. Perhaps Kurdulkar would be willing to break the laws of the manetaurs in the same way that Tarrabus had been willing break the laws of God and the High King.
“Why should we march to the aid of the Anathgrimm?” said Kurdulkar. “Tell us that, Keeper of Andomhaim. The Anathgrimm have never aided the manetaurs in the past. Why should we aid them now?”
Calliande’s poise did not waver. “Because while they have never met you, they are nonetheless already your allies, Prince Kurdulkar. The Frostborn are your enemies, even if you realize it not. They will enslave and destroy you if they can. I think it is better for the Range that you fight the Frostborn in the Northerland, far from your homes. For if they are able to conquer their way to the Lion Mountains, their strength will be unstoppable.”
“The Hunters fear no foe,” said Kurdulkar.
“The Hunters indeed fear no foe,” said Curzonar from the other side of the garden, glaring at his half-brother, “but can the same be said of you, Kurdulkar? A glorious hunt awaits us against the Frostborn, and you cringe from it like an infant cowering from the thunder!”
A rumbling, growling laugh rose from Curzonar’s half of the garden, but not from Kurdulkar’s half. The Princes of the Range had divided into two factions, those who supported Curzonar and those who supported Kurdulkar. Again it reminded Ridmark of Tarrabus, of the factions that had gathered around Tarrabus and Gareth Licinius before Uthanaric’s murder.
“The Hunters indeed fear no foe, Curzonar,” said Kurdulkar, a sneer in the rumble of his voice, “nor should they. But the Princes and the Red King hold a higher responsibility. We hold the protection of the Hunters and the tygrai in our claws. Perhaps you might think of nothing of disappearing for half a year on some jaunt to the Vale of Stone Death or some other forsaken ruin, but a Prince of the Range should hold his responsibilities in higher regard.”
Calliande drew breath to speak, but Ridmark made a small gesture, and she fell silent. He did not think it would be wise to inject themselves into the argument between the two factions of Princes, not yet.
Because the argument was already in full swing.
“I indeed take the duties of a Prince seriously, Kurdulkar,” said Curzonar. “Including the defense of the Range from our foes, and the Frostborn are the foes of the Hunters. Do you say the Keeper lies to us? Do you think the Frostborn will stop with Andomhaim and the Anathgrimm? No! They shall not. Once the humans and the orcs are broken, they will come for us, and they shall be ten times as strong. Your counsel is as foolish as a wounded gazelle hiding in the trees, hoping the Hunter does not follow him.”
“You speak of distant possibilities, of outcomes far removed from our present dangers,” said Kurdulkar. “You neglect the current dangers we face in pursuit of phantoms that may not be real.”
“Forgive me, Prince Kurdulkar,” said Ridmark, and for the first time, Kurdulkar’s golden eyes turned in his direction. “What dangers are those? The war against the Frostborn has occupied my attention for the last year, and I fear I have not heard any news from the Range.”
Kurdulkar regarded him for a moment. “The dvargir have been stirring. They have been our ancestral enemies for many centuries. Of late they suffered a defeat in the west…”
“They came at Shadowbearer’s call to assail Dun Licinia,” said Ridmark, “but the Anathgrimm and the men of the Northerland broke them and sent them fleeing back to the Deeps.” Calliande inclined her head in a small, approving nod. Given how much the manetaurs hated the dvargir, a reminder of their defeat at Dun Licinia could only help their course.
“A fine victory,” said Curzonar.
“Yet perhaps it has set the dvargir to seeking new foes,” said Kurdulkar. “In the past months, we have suffered many dvargir raids. The Range is riddled with entrances to the Deeps, and the dvargir come forth in search of loot and tygrai and Hunters to take back to Khaldurmar as slaves. Perhaps if you had not defeated the dvargir so decisively, they would not have turned their attention to the Range, and we would be free to aid you against the Frostborn.”
“Or perhaps that is the plan of the dvargir,” countered Curzonar. “Perhaps the dvargir wish to hold our attention as the Frostborn march from the west to destroy us. Just as the fires upon the plains drive the prey from their hiding places and into the waiting arms of the Hunters, so too are the dvargir a distraction to hold our attention from the greater danger of the Frostborn.”
That was a good point. Tymandain Shadowbearer had been able to command the dvargir, and an entire army of them had marched to his assistance at Black Mountain. Did Imaria have the same authority? Of course, Ridmark had dealt with the dvargir enough to realize they were perfectly capable of seizing an opportunity when it presented itself, and the division among the Princes of the Range was a grand opportunity.
“There is no proof that the Frostborn and the dvargir are allied,” said Kurdulkar. “Likely the dvargir are mere opportunists, waiting until we turn our attention to the Frostborn to strike against the Range. Better to stay here, I say, and defend our homes from the dvargir. The Frostborn are the problem of the humans and the orcs. Let them overcome the Frostborn, rather than grovel before the Red King for aid.”
“We do not grovel, Prince Kurdulkar,” said Calliande, stepping next to Ridmark. “Nor do we beg. We come with an offer of alliance…for once the Frostborn destroy us, they will come for you. Now, together, is our best chance of defeating them.”
“The Keeper of Andomhaim speaks truly!” said Curzonar. “We are the Hunters! Have we ever flinched from battle? The dark elves and the urdmordar both tried to dominate us, and we fought them both! These Frostborn, these invaders, think to subjugate us? Let us teach them their folly! Let us march from the Range and throw them back into their precious world gate!”
A rumble of agreement went up from the Princes on Curzonar’s side of the garden.
“Well spoken, brother,” said Kurdulkar. “Well spoken, indeed. Your bellicosity does you credit. Yet I wonder if your lust for blood blinds you from the greater opportunities before us.”
“And what opportunities are those?” said Curzonar.
“Need the Frostborn be our enemies?” said Kurdulkar.
Calliande stiffened a little, and Ridmark’s hand tightened against his staff. Here came the greatest danger, he knew. If Kurdulkar worshiped the shadow of Incariel, that meant he would think like Tarrabus. Like Tarrabus, Kurdulkar would try to use the Frostborn to his advantage…perhaps even to ally with them.
“The Frostborn are our enemies, brother,” spat Curzonar. “We fought against them for decades. I am sure the arbiters would be willing to recite the history for you, should you have forgotten the lessons of your childhood.”
Another rumbling laugh went up from Curzonar’s supporters.
“The Keeper seeks allies against the Frostborn,” said Kurdulkar, “but I think it would be to our advantage to ally with the Frostborn against the humans and the orcs. Together we can crush them utterly.”
“And do you think, Prince Kurdulkar,” said Calliande, “that the Frostborn will not turn upon you once the conquest is complete? That they will not enslave you and make you into subjugated vassals?”
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Kurdulkar smiled as he stared at Calliande.
“I think, Keeper,” said Kurdulkar, “that a great opportunity lies before the Hunters. A power has been offered to us. We are the greatest hunters and warriors upon this world. We can become greater still. This power will let us subjugate the entire world, keeping all other kindreds as our cattle. This power will let us become gods ruling over the world in immortal power forever.”
Ridmark had heard many such speeches from the Enlightened of Incariel since the first time they had tried to kill him in Aranaeus, and it was chilling to hear the familiar words from the tongue of a manetaur prince.
“You speak of the power the dark elves served,” said Tazemazar. “You speak of what the humans call the shadow of Incariel.”
“I am brave enough to walk that path, arbiter,” said Kurdulkar. “Are you brave enough to follow me?”
“This is folly,” said Curzonar. “That power destroyed the dark elves. Once the elven kindred ruled this world, and the shadow of Incariel ripped them apart in endless civil wars until only remnants linger. We should not seek to repeat their madness.”
“You seek to change us, Kurdulkar, Prince of the Range,” said Tazemazar. “You seek to change the very nature of the Hunters.”
“Yes!” said Kurdulkar. “I do seek it. I deny it not! The arbiters seek to keep us in stasis as we have been for millennia. But a predator must change and grow, or it dies. We were not always as we are now. Must we remain that way forever? Once we were the servants of the dark elves, but we broke free. We became more than what we were. Now the shadow of Incariel offers us a chance to grow further, to become even more than we already are.”
“You speak foolishness,” said Tazemazar. “We revolted against the dark elves, yes. We did not change ourselves. We remained the Hunters, and did not become freakish abominations enslaved to the twisted shadow of Incariel.”
“That is what you seek!” thundered Curzonar. “I know it well, Kurdulkar. You seek to transform us into a kindred of monsters, twisted by the dark shadow you have chosen to worship in your madness. I will not stand for it.”
Frostborn: The False King Page 20