Blue fire swirled in the midst of the melee, and Mara appeared behind one of the undead dark elves, sending the warrior stumbling with a sharp shove to the lower back. The warrior staggered towards Gavin, and he took off its head with a swing of Truthseeker, the soulblade turning the bones of its neck to splintered shards. Gavin looked back to see Caius and Jager running into the battle. He wondered why they had abandoned their guard over Calliande and Antenora and Morigna, and then realized that there was no need. Most of the dark elven undead had been destroyed, and the remainder fell back to shield Rhogrimnalazur.
The urdmordar was no more than a dozen yards from Gavin, jerking back and forth as she dodged Calliande’s bursts of white fire. Rhogrimnalazur seemed able to block both Antenora’s and Morigna’s spells, but like Shadowbearer in Khald Azalar, she could not ward herself against the Keeper’s attacks, and had instead to dodge them. The effort held most of the urdmordar’s attention, and if Gavin could get close enough to strike, he might be able to take Rhogrimnalazur unawares. He struck down another undead warrior, looking for a line of attack.
Suddenly he felt slower. Truthseeker’s power still filled him, but Calliande had withdrawn her augmentation and protection spells. Had Rhogrimnalazur dispelled them? Or, worse, had the urdmordar overpowered Calliande? Gavin risked a glance back, but saw Calliande standing unharmed, wreathed in a blaze of white fire.
She shouted and pointed her staff, and a brilliant spear of white fire burst from her as the Keeper flung all of her strength at Rhogrimnalazur. The urdmordar started to dodge, but the white fire moved even faster than Rhogrimnalazur’s uncanny speed, and the blast struck her across the right side of her thorax. The urdmordar staggered to the side with a ringing scream of fury and pain, the crimson armor of her hide charred black.
It was Gavin’s chance to strike.
He raced forward, Truthseeker’s power filling him with strength and speed, and leaped into the air, the soulblade raised over his head. He intended to aim for Rhogrimnalazur’s human-like torso, but the urdmordar twisted at the last instant, and instead Truthseeker sank deep into her abdomen. The soulstone in the blade flared like the sun, the sword’s power pumping into the wound, and Rhogrimnalazur screamed, her eyes flickering with green light. One of her legs slammed into Gavin’s chest with the force of a falling tree, and he flew backwards, still gripping Truthseeker. The breath exploded from his lungs as he struck the ground, and for a moment he could not move, could not breathe.
He was sure that Rhogrimnalazur would rear up and kill him.
Yet the urdmordar wobbled back and forth, her armored sides heaving. Perhaps Gavin’s blow had done more damage than he had thought. White light flickered upon Rhogrimnalazur’s back, and Arandar jumped atop her abdomen, balanced there as Heartwarden burned in his hands.
Rhogrimnalazur started to twist to face him, but it was too late. Arandar drove Heartwarden between Rhogrimnalazur’s shoulders, the blade erupting from her chest perhaps a foot below her neck. The urdmordar screamed, her head thrown back, her clawed legs lashing at the courtyard. The upheaval threw Arandar from her back, and he fell hard, scrabbling to get away from the lashing legs.
Rhogrimnalazur staggered to a halt, the ghastly wound in her chest leaking green-black slime, and her flickering eyes fell upon Ridmark.
“You should have listened to me,” she hissed. “You could have escaped the coming darkness. Now you shall perish with the rest…with the rest of…”
The green fire in her eyes went dark, and Rhogrimnalazur went limp, her legs collapsing into a tangled heap beneath her. Her body sagged to the side, and a shiver went through the air, the awful presence of her voice vanishing from Gavin’s mind. The remaining undead dark elves went motionless, and then collapsed into pieces as Rhogrimnalazur’s magic faded away.
The urdmordar was dead.
###
Ridmark lowered his staff, breathing hard.
“She’s dead,” said Gavin, his voice shocked. “We…we actually killed her.”
“It was a hard battle,” said Arandar, getting to his feet, “but you fought valiantly. Few Swordbearers at your age have faced an urdmordar and lived, even with help.” Heartwarden’s fire dimmed as Rhogrimnalazur’s magic faded, easing Ridmark’s headache.
Gavin didn’t seem to hear him. “It was…it was easier than I thought. Easier than Urd Arowyn and Agrimnalazur.”
“We didn’t have any soulblades with us at Urd Arowyn,” said Ridmark. “There is a reason the Order of the Soulblade broke the siege of Tarlion and drove the urdmordar into the Wilderland all those centuries ago.”
“Clearly,” said Jager, walking over with Mara. The halfling and the half-elf had come through the battle unscathed. “If that was the easy fight, then God knows I am glad I missed the hard one! Sir Gavin, the number of drinks I have to buy you when we return to civilized lands just keeps going up and up.”
“Are any of you injured?” called Calliande, Morigna and Antenora hurrying after her. Morigna’s eyes flicked over Ridmark, seeking for injury. He had come through the fight without any wounds, though he wanted to lie down and sleep for a day.
That would have to wait.
“Gavin Swordbearer is wounded,” said Antenora.
“What?” said Gavin. He blinked a few times and touched his forehead. “I suppose I am. I can use Truthseeker to heal myself. There’s no…”
“Oh, hush,” said Calliande. She walked over and a cast a spell, white light flaring from her hands and sinking into Gavin as she healed his wounds. Calliande had to take the pain of the wounds into herself to heal them, but Gavin was not hurt badly.
None of them were, in fact.
“The Lord granted us victory this day,” said Caius.
“Truly,” said Ridmark.
“One rather suspects our own courage and ability had rather more to do with it,” said Morigna.
Caius smiled. “What instruments do you think God uses to work his will?”
“You can debate theology in the road,” said Ridmark. “We’re leaving.”
Mara frowned. “We will not rest first?”
“No,” said Ridmark. “There is a village of annoyed arachar to the north, and I would rather be gone before they realize we slew their false goddess. And we are in a race with Shadowbearer. We can afford no delay. We’ll tell Rakhaag to depart, and continue to Black Mountain.”
None of the others disagreed, and they left at once.
They managed to cover another nine miles before dark, following the banks of the River Moradel.
Chapter 6: Messengers
Four days after the death of Rhogrimnalazur, Calliande sat cross-legged before the campfire, her staff laid across her knees. The sun was rising to the east, throwing its rays over the torpid waters of the River Moradel. Their camp was in a small clearing perhaps a hundred yards from the river atop a bluff overlooking the waters. Calliande was alone, save for Mara, who sat on the other side of the campfire, humming to herself as she cooked biscuits and sausages over the fire, and Antenora, who stood like a statue a few feet away. All the others had left the camp. Caius had said his morning prayers and left with Kharlacht, Jager, Arandar, and Gavin to have a look around, to make sure no enemies were nearby. Ridmark and Morigna had gone scouting to the south.
At least they said they had gone scouting.
Calliande had her suspicions of what they were really doing…but that was not her business. She didn’t even feel jealous any longer. Well, not very jealous, not that much…
She put that thought of her mind and focused upon the Sight, sending her magical vision southward. The aura of fiery magic around Antenora brushed her mind, as did the strange aura of power around Mara. Calliande closed her eyes and concentrated, seeing with senses other than those of the flesh. For a moment she saw herself through the Sight, sitting cross-legged before the fire, a regal-looking woman with pleasant features and long blond hair, a green cloak draped over her shoulders, the worn staff of the Keeper
laid across her lap.
Vanity was not something she often indulged, but she did look pretty healthy for a woman of over two and a half centuries.
Calliande tightened her focus, sending her Sight to the west, towards the mountains of Vhaluusk.
Towards where Shadowbearer marched with the Mhorite host to the Black Mountain and Dun Licinia. Unless she missed her guess, Shadowbearer would have left the Vale of Stone Death by now, marching south through the thick forests of Vhaluusk. That would slow him and his Mhorite followers, and any other allies he gathered. Vhaluusk was a patchwork of petty fiefdoms ruled by orcish warlords, interspersed with long stretches of wilderness. It was not good terrain for an army, and the Vhaluuskan tribes would amuse themselves by attacking Mournacht’s supply trains and scouts. It would take Shadowbearer weeks to cross Vhaluusk.
By contrast, Ridmark and Calliande and the others had been making good time. She thought they had covered at least twenty miles yesterday, maybe more. Her legs certainly ached as if they had covered more, but she did not begrudge the pain. The more ground they covered, the better chance they had of reaching Black Mountain before Shadowbearer.
They had only been attacked twice since leaving Urd Cystaanl, once by a pack of trolls, and once by a band of kobolds from the Deeps seeking for captives and loot. The lupivirii avoided the trolls, since they had no way of harming them, but Morigna’s acidic mist and Antenora’s fire made short work of the creatures. Ridmark and the others broke the attack of the kobolds, and Rakhaag and the lupivirii amused themselves by hunting down the survivors. No arachar pursued them from Urd Cystaanl. Evidently the followers of the late Rhogrimnalazur had no further wish for conflict.
Calliande cleared those concerns from her mind, focusing upon Shadowbearer. She bent her Sight towards the corrupted high elven archmage, seeking him. After she had awakened, she had eluded him. Now she wanted to find him before he could open the gate on Black Mountain.
Yet she could not.
The Sight was capricious and wild, and no Keeper had ever truly bound it to her will. Some of the Keepers had thought that the Sight was an innately intuitive, wild magic, one that could not be controlled by the logical mind. Other Keepers believed that the nature of time was so chaotic that the Sight merely reflected the unpredictable nature of the future.
Or Shadowbearer was skilled enough to cloak himself from Calliande’s Sight. That seemed the most logical option.
She sighed and opened her eyes.
“No luck?” said Mara, turning over the biscuits.
“None,” said Calliande, standing with a grimace. “Either I cannot find Shadowbearer with my Sight, or he is powerful enough to shield himself from observation.”
“My father was,” said Mara, squinting at the sausages. She nodded in satisfaction and started to scoop them out of the fire with a spatula. “Zhorlacht told me before we left the Gate of the East. One of his duties was to help maintain the wards around the edges of Nightmane Forest.”
“If the Traveler was strong enough to do it, Shadowbearer would be as well,” said Calliande.
“This place we are traveling to reach,” said Antenora. “The Black Mountain. Why does Shadowbearer travel to this mountain?”
“There’s a standing circle upon its slopes,” said Calliande. “A place of power. The dark elves made such circles in ancient times during their wars against the high elves, before the urdmordar came. They could use the circles to enhance their magic to mighty effect. Shadowbearer can open the gate far more easily there than he could anywhere else.”
“Why that particular circle?” said Mara. “There must be dozens of standing circles between Khald Azalar and Dun Licinia. We passed one two days ago, on that hill overlooking the river. Why doesn’t Shadowbearer use one of those and save himself the long walk to Dun Licinia?”
“That circle is the most powerful one in Andomhaim,” said Calliande. “Any spell of dark magic cast there will be magnified to an exponential degree.”
“Why?” said Antenora.
“I don’t know,” said Calliande. “I don’t think any of the other Keepers knew, either. It’s something about the Black Mountain. It has a mighty aura of dark magic about it.”
Mara began plucking the biscuits from the fire. “I always heard it was…cursed. Nothing specific. When I lived in Cintarra, I heard the rumors. All the merchants thought the men of the Northerland were mad to live in the shadow of the Black Mountain, so close to the pagan orcs of the Wilderland.”
“It was sacred to the dark elves,” said Calliande.
“Sacred?” said Mara. “My father never worshipped anything but himself.”
“He was a bit…disillusioned, I think,” said Calliande. “Like the Warden.”
“But crazier,” said Mara.
“Quite,” said Calliande. “Most of the other dark elves worshipped Incariel. Shadowbearer was sort of a…prophet to them, I think. Ardrhythain told me about the history. That was how the split between the high elves and the dark elves began. Once there were just the high elves. Then some of them chose to worship the shadow of Incariel, and the shadow changed them. I suppose that was when this all began.”
“But what does Shadowbearer want?” said Antenora. “He is a high elf, is he not? Why do all this? Why summon the Frostborn?”
Calliande shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps we can ask him before we defeat him.”
If they could defeat him.
“If you turn your Sight towards this Black Mountain,” said Antenora, “perhaps it shall reveal useful knowledge to you.”
Calliande shook her head. “I tried. All I see is…battle, chaos. Not now, but in the future, the near future. Soon there will be fighting at Black Mountain.”
“And we didn’t need the Sight to tell us that,” said Mara, arranging the sausages and the biscuits upon a platter.
“I fear not,” said Calliande.
“Well,” said Mara, gazing into the forest for a moment, “if we can’t save the world today, we might as well have breakfast.”
“I do not require physical sustenance,” said Antenora.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?” said Calliande.
Mara shrugged. “I suspect the Gray Knight will want to leave as soon as he returns with the others. It would be nice not to eat a breakfast upon our feet for once.”
“An excellent point,” said Calliande. She claimed a sausage from the platter. “Though we’ve been carrying around these sausages since we stole them from that Mhorite camp in the Vale of Fallen Stars. I doubt they’ll last much longer.”
She took a bite and blinked in surprise at the taste.
“That…is really good,” she said. “How did you do that?”
“Some of the plants we passed in the forest yesterday,” said Mara, smiling. “They go well with meat.”
“How did you learn to cook so well?” said Calliande, taking another bite and savoring the taste. She hadn’t eaten anything that tasted so good since they had left the wreckage of the Iron Tower.
“From the Red Family,” said Mara. “Some of the poisons the Family employed were quite bitter, so we learned to cook to disguise the taste…”
Calliande blinked and looked at the half-eaten sausage.
“Ah,” said Mara, wincing. “Don’t worry. It’s poison-free. I probably shouldn’t share that anecdote with the others.”
“The expression on Jager’s face might be amusing, though,” said Calliande. She hesitated and then finished the sausage.
Mara smiled at that. “Oh, he already knows about it.” Her smile faded. “I wonder what Zhorlacht and the Anathgrimm would say.”
“Likely they would approve,” said Calliande.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about them,” said Mara. “I have a responsibility. I cannot turn away from them. And yet…I would not weep if I never saw them again. They remind me too much of Nightmane Forest, of my childhood. Yet…”
She blinked and looked into the trees. F
or a moment Calliande thought Mara had been moved to tears, but then the shorter woman smiled. Calliande’s Sight caught several magical auras moving towards them.
“The others return,” said Antenora.
Caius, Kharlacht, Arandar, Gavin, and Jager came first. Jager saw the sausages, smiled, kissed his wife, and then helped himself to some biscuits. Ridmark and Morigna came next, Morigna carrying a trio of dead rabbits. Apparently the two of them really had gone scouting.
“Did you find anything interesting?” said Mara.
“Not really,” said Jager. “Some more ruins. I think it was an orcish village, but it’s been abandoned for a long time. Burned, most likely. Other than that, we saw not a single living soul.” He brushed some dust from his vest and looked at Morigna. “Though it seems the Witch of the Wilderland found some most unfortunate rabbits.”
Morigna sniffed. “That is the difference between us, Master Thief. One of us can survive in the wilderness, and the other would starve to death within a week.”
Jager beamed at her. “Yes, but what would you do?”
“Watch you go without fresh rabbit,” said Morigna, shaking them in his direction.
Calliande looked at Ridmark. “Can we spare the time to cook them?”
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark. He seemed distracted, as if an idea had come to him. “We’ve been running hard for nearly four days. We need some rest, and some fresh food would do us good. After we’ve eaten Mara’s excellent breakfast, of course.”
Frostborn: The World Gate Page 9