Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  “You can open your eyes, but do not let go of each other. I will guide you back to Aeirsga.”

  Katya opened her eyes and was overwhelmed again at the beauty of the brilliant tunnels that were the Ley Lines. Currents of moving magical energy flowed backwards and forwards in oranges and yellows down the length of the intersecting corridors of light. Once again she felt directly a part of the lifeblood of Aronshae. She was in the Great Mother’s very veins themselves. There was always the feeling of movement under their feet as they followed the Administrator hand in hand. They half floated half walked through this place of wonder.

  “Once you settle a destination in your mind the Ley Lines do much of the work. Katya, as a sorceress, I think you should know the details of traveling here. I have the feeling that you will need to pass freely here in your efforts to defeat the Empress of Ice. It will take time, but as young as you are you will have plenty. Do you understand the basics of how we entered here having felt it done twice?” Tomas asked.

  “I felt… I felt like my magic, my lifeblood, was being pulled out of me. I am not sure I could enter on my own. I felt sure I would fall into the Void again.”

  “Do not fear that. You only can enter the Void if you are dead or taken by something dead. Only the living can enter the Ley Lines; the dead cannot travel through here at all. The hardest part is entering the Ley Lines. It is possible to get lost, but by revisiting nodes you have attuned to you can get back on the right path.”

  “What do you mean by ‘attune’ and ‘nodes’?” Katya asked, confusion lining her young face as her brows furrowed. Her attention was rapt however, absorbing every word the Master Sorcerer spoke.

  “My apologies, I seem to have skipped a couple of steps. I have traveled the Ley Lines for so long that I assumed you know more than you do. You have seen three nodes now: one in Snowhaven’s Sorcerer School, one in Blodwood, and one in the catacombs of Aeirsga. There are dozens of nodes throughout Aronshae. These nodes are where the Ley Lines intersect. You have to familiarize yourself, or attune, to each node in the outside world before you can use the Ley Lines to travel to it. The telltale sign that you have found a node is the crystal mounds, where the intense magic passing through the spot bubbles through into the open. To attune yourself to a node you must focus your mind and leave your magical imprint there. You don’t have to interject yourself into the node like the Empress of Ice is trying to do. She also assumed that the Ley Lines are gateways and any number of people can enter once it is opened, which is incorrect. A sorcerer can only take one or two others with them, two hands for two companions.” Katya noted that the Administrator had taken four companions with him, but since he did not offer up an explanation she did not ask; he had told her much already.

  The Nhyme were also deeply fascinated by the Administrator’s words, but Sasha’s eyes were a bit glazed over. Too much of this discussion of magic was going over her head.

  Before the Administrator could say more, they apparently arrived, because they came to a stop. Katya gawked at the node. She hadn’t gotten a very good look at it when they had left Aeirsga and now she stared wide-eyed. This was the intersection of five Ley Lines, not just two like in Blodwood.

  “Before we exit, I will remind you all that our journey must be a secret. Katya well knows the Ley Lines have never been mentioned in my teachings at the Snowhaven Sorcerer School. I have my own personal reasons, but the reason you should concern yourself with is that we don’t know where the Empress of Ice has spies. In order to protect your homes speak to no one of this. I need your word that you will keep what you know about the Ley Lines secret.”

  “You have my word,” his four traveling companions intoned together.

  Chyla and Niko had been silent all this time, the female Nhyme looking a bit forlorn and weary in the way her shoulders slumped, but Niko now spoke up.

  “Ancient One, a question quickly if I may,” the tiny winged man asked.

  “Ask it.”

  “The magic around these nodes is very powerful. I have noticed it myself as I worked with enchantments in close proximity to our Blodwood crystal mound. Much of my scholarly work alongside the Elder had to do with testing this. Our biggest question was: does the magic of Aronshae come from the Ley Lines itself?”

  The Administrator smiled, “I won’t go into the details, but I will answer your question. The answer is yes. The Ley Lines are the Mother’s veins.” He frowned before continuing, “To corrupt a majority of them as the Empress of Ice is trying to do would destroy your world.”

  “Your world?” Katya dared, noting yet again another subtle distinction and her curiosity overwhelming courtesy. “Don’t you mean our…” before she could finish the Administrator was pulling them through the fabric of the world back into the catacombs of Aeirsga. It was harder to press back into the outside world more than when they had exited into Blodwood. It was as if there was a barrier before them of silver light, but it fell away before the Administrator’s touch. Once again, they were in the cylindrical ruined chamber where she and her friends had fought with the Shadow Walkers. Niko and Chyla blew life into a small orb of light in their hands, illuminating their surroundings. The main crystal was magnificent as it rose up to almost touch the domed mural ceiling. As expected, the six Palace Guards here were still fast asleep, leaning on their spears as if they had just dozed off. Sasha looked upset for a moment until she saw the Administrator wink at her.

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “they will wake when we reach the top of the stairs.” She nodded, realizing the sleeping guards were his doing and not them failing their sworn duty.

  They passed back into the wrecked old throne room, its curtains and wooden furniture mere mush on the stone floors. The two white marble thrones were the only furniture that survived the cold and damp of this dark place. They sat together like the bones of dead lovers, intimately close in their design. The small group passed the broken bronze-bound doors of the throne room into the hallways lined with rooms beyond. The climb up the slick moss-covered stairs was slow going, but it wasn’t long before they came to the hidden door to the storeroom at its top. Passing two more sleeping Palace Guards, and with a few ducks into shadows to avoid roaming servants, they arrived back at the twins’ room. They crept inside and Tomas himself closed the door behind them. Katya sank into one of the plush purple velvet chairs, exhausted. The two Nhyme flew from her shoulders and burrowed under the pile of pillows on the giant four poster bed, while Sasha stirred up the dying coals in the fireplace. Tomas walked to Sasha’s side and handed her a few cut logs from the nearby rack. The warrior put them in one at a time to allow each one to catch fire. Tomas appreciatively warmed his hands while she did so; Blodwood had been chilly even for the summer season. Not enough light penetrated its canopy during the daylight hours to warm the earth properly. Then there were Aeirsga’s catacombs, which were always dreadfully cold. Sasha stood and warmed her hands as well, watching the Administrator with a sidelong glance.

  “Are you going to stare at me some more or ask your question, child?” he asked.

  Sasha laughed quietly, mentally scolding herself for not being more discreet.

  “Fair enough and my apologies,” she replied. “Administrator, who, or more appropriately, what are you? Somehow, I doubt you are human. I am speaking specifically of your comment earlier of ‘your world,’ like you are an outsider.”

  “You observe much, Sasha. Such an admirable trait will save your life more than once I think. However, I cannot answer your question. You will find out soon enough.” He patted her ivy-etched plate bracer and turned to Katya, raising his voice so that both could hear. “Well girls, I will leave you to your rest. I, too, must retire,” he yawned. “One of the other rooms on this hall is bound to be open and without a guest. Good evening, or morning I should say.”

  The twins said their goodnights. Tomas smiled kindly in return and then went to the door to let himself out.

  “Administrator…,” Kat
ya said, rising from the chair and closing the distance between her and the young man.

  “Yes?” he turned back to face the sorceress, as she approached. Katya stopped a couple of steps in front of him.

  “Thank you for taking us to the Blodwood. Thank you for their sake,” she said as she inclined her head where the Nhyme were already sleeping soundly.

  “You are very welcome. Razorik was my truest friend in this world. I will miss his innocent smile and wise thoughts.” He looked distraught, his chin lowering towards his chest. He raised it only a moment later. “Rest well,” he said and left the room.

  Captain Ra’thet looked down from the walls at the Illyander Army below. The entwined blue and red dragon banners of the King fluttered in the cooling air. As the morning progressed towards noon, the wind coming down out of the mountains blew through the valley in which Snowhaven sat sentry. The Ice Queen’s captain would have expected the valley to become warmer as the sun moved higher in the sky, but the cooler air coming down out of the mountains and channeling through the pass both chilled and intensified the wind as it moved through Snowhaven. The currents of air caused the town to sound as though it was softly moaning to itself, had the occupying orcs and the approaching army of men been quiet enough for the town’s voice to be heard.

  Quiet was one of the things currently in short supply in the mountain town though. The blue-skinned orcs of the Empress’ army were affected neither by the keening wind, nor the chill that it bore. Even were they not already naturally resistant to the cold of the northern mountains, the brutish creatures’ blood ran hot with the promise of another battle to come. Already once today, in the early dawn hours, the King’s Army had tested its might against the southern gate of Snowhaven, and though the gate was nowhere near as strong as its northern counterpart, it was still impressive nonetheless. One of the first things Ra’thet had ordered done when he captured the town was the fortification of Snowhaven’s southerly defenses. Conversely, the tall knight had no fear of attack from the north. When the northern gate had finally been smashed apart by the Empress’ forces, he had had the gate hastily repaired to a mere fraction of its former strength. No, the threat to Snowhaven lay to the south.

  Again he looked out over the approaching banners as they marched ever closer to the gates of Snowhaven. Armored soldiers, covered in light cloaks, marched in disciplined rows northward. Though the Illyander Army was far superior in numbers to that of the Empress, the relatively narrow valley in which Snowhaven sat all but nullified their advantage. It was one of the main reasons Snowhaven had been built where it had, a natural choke point on the only pass through the World’s Edge Mountains. Originally constructed to defend against invading armies from the north, the small fort town’s positioning worked just as well against forces approaching from the south. Ra’thet couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the irony. The town’s strategic position and the tactical advantage he and his men had behind the stone walls of Snowhaven were well known facts. However, it was the troops that Ra’thet had secretly stationed on the valley walls far above the heads of the King’s soldiers that caused the Empress’ captain to smile a cold grin. With a clear line of supply from the north and the superior positioning of his troops, he could easily hold Snowhaven for months, if not years.

  Time and supplies were things of which Ra’thet had plenty. What seemed to be in ever shortening supply was patience. The ice orcs were not used to fighting men from within stone walls. When orcs had fought with men before, they had been prepared to lay siege to a town, not defend one. Also, when the tribes had warred with one another, before the Empress of Ice had united them under her frozen crown, the battles had taken place in the open with hordes of hulking blue-skinned warriors clashing in close combat. As Ra’thet looked at the orcs now he could see the desire and bloodlust in their eyes. They wanted to open the gates and meet the approaching humans head on in brutal hand-to-hand combat, the way the savage orcs felt warfare was supposed to be waged. You’ll get your wish soon enough, the towering warrior thought to himself. If things go according to plan, there will be plenty to sate your bloodlust, for a time at least. It took every ounce of leadership that Ra’thet and his lieutenants possessed to keep the brutish creatures in check.

  Regrettably, his lieutenants weren’t the most reliable of soldiers either. Lured northward with the promise of gems and gold, the Empress’ agents in Illyander had recruited every brigand, thief and mercenary that they could find to bolster her armies. The orcs were ferocious warriors, strong and cruel, but they lacked leadership and discipline. Ra’thet himself had suggested recruiting men from the South to take leadership positions within the Empress’ army, to impose order and channel the barely controllable ice orcs, making them an even more formidable force under his command. Looking at the men now though, he began to regret his decision. The only men who had been willing to betray Illyander had been cutthroats, rogues and disgraced mercenaries, only as loyal as they needed to be to earn their rewards. Watching over the men who in turn watched over the orcs, Ra’thet saw fear and uncertainty in their eyes. He knew for a fact that these sellswords would desert their posts at the first sign that the battle had turned against them. It was up to Ra’thet to see that never happened.

  Finally, there was the impatience he had begun to feel, both within his troops and in his own mind with his Empress. The promise of easy victory in the heart of Aeirsga, Illyander’s capital, had vanished. Somehow, the Ice Queen’s Shadow Walkers, her elite force of Void-augmented undead, had been defeated. Even the addition of a converted Master Sorcerer from the piles of dead defenders Ra’thet had left in his wake had not secured victory for the Empress’ soldiers, nor had it secured arcane passage from Snowhaven to the unsuspecting Aeirsga. Ra’thet could tell that the ice orcs were growing increasingly displeased with their current situation. They had been promised slaughter and easy triumph. Instead, they had been given the task of defending against a long siege from behind man-made stone walls. The veteran captain knew that only the fear of a slow, icy death at the hands of the Empress of Ice and the knowledge that would return as an undead thrall in her service kept the orcs from revolting or fighting amongst themselves. Sometimes even the threat of unending death was not enough to quell the animosity between the orc tribes. Ra’thet and his men had broken up more than a few private skirmishes between small groups of orcs from tribes that had been blood enemies for generations. The captain needed a victory, and a decisive one, if he was to maintain order. If only the Empress had been able to show more tangible proof to the unruly brutes and his mercenary lieutenants that she was making progress towards winning the war she had started with Illyander. While Ra’thet had supreme confidence in his mistress’ arcane might, some of her more subtle strengths were lost on the loutish minds of his troops.

  Ra’thet’s thoughts were pulled back from the more esoteric concerns of command to the more immediate concerns of battle as one of his lieutenants approached.

  “The Illyanders have almost reached the wall, Captain. Shall I order the… men to attack?” The unshaven man hesitated with the word, unsure of how to refer to the orc troops. Ra’thet turned his intense gaze on the man who was only an inch or so shorter than the towering general himself. Even so, the rough looking man quailed before Ra’thet’s icy blue-eyed stare, involuntarily taking half a step away from the Empress’ warlord.

  “Were those the orders I gave you, Lieutenant Fawkes?” Ra’thet asked, his tone clearly indicating they were not.

  “N-No… Sir!” The thuggish man looked as though he might become unmanned right then and there.

  “I did not think so,” Ra’thet said, condescension clear in his voice. “Return to your post and await the signal.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Fawkes replied and immediately turned, almost tripping over his own feet, quickly retreating from his captain’s displeasure.

  It is a good thing that we do have such a tactical advantage over the Illyanders, Ra’thet thought to himself.
Were this battle to come down to discipline and strategy, we would surely lose.

  Ra’thet took a spyglass from the young man at his side and looked more closely at the approaching forces. The Illyanders were almost in position. Perhaps there was hope for Fawkes yet. The man did seem to grasp basic strategy at least. Ra’thet waited another few minutes until the King’s Army had almost reached the gates of Snowhaven. The Empress’ troops, though obviously ready for combat, had not fired a single arrow nor thrown a single spear at the approaching force, which Ra’thet was certain had caused all manner of confusion and unease amongst the Illyanders. The ice orcs had been yelling guttural taunts at the enemy, but held their place atop the walls.

  Ra’thet nodded to himself, lowered his spyglass and said, “Give the signal.” The man beside him immediately raised a trumpet, fashioned from the horn of a great ram, to his lips. A long note pierced the cold mountain air, followed quickly by two shorter notes of the same tone and volume. At first there was no reaction to the horn, but slowly there came a low rumbling noise from the surrounding peaks. Quiet at first, the rumbling grew in volume until it was unmistakable, even over the sounds of the jeering orcs and marching feet of the approaching troops. The rumbling noise was soon joined by the sounds of screaming men, one or two at first, but quickly the yells of terror were joined by the throats of hundreds of men as they looked up and saw their death approaching.

  From the tops of the surrounding valley peaks, came the unmistakable inexorable sound of tumbling snow and rock. Initially echoing off the valley walls so that it was impossible to tell the direction of the incoming noise, the source of the impending deluge was soon plain to even the weakest eye. Small bits of ice and rock began pelting down on the heads and now upraised shields of the King’s Army. Rapidly, however, the smaller stones and hail gave way to larger rocks the size of a man’s head, quickly followed by giant boulders the size of wagons. A wave of icy death plummeted down the hillsides over the armored men, burying them beneath a small hill of rock and snow.