Frostborn: The Broken Mage (25 page)

“Then we are safe for now,” said Caius.

“At least from the malophage,” said Ridmark. 

The Devourer’s shape blurred again, and suddenly it returned to the duplicate of Calliande. She shivered at the sight. It looked exactly like her, identical to every detail. This time, though, the duplicate’s eyes shone with orange fire.

“You are not safe from me, Calliande of Tarlion, Keeper of Andomhaim,” spat the Devourer in Calliande’s voice. “For two hundred years I have waited to consume you, and I shall not be hindered now. Listen to the lies of your corrupted husk of an apprentice, if you wish.” The orange-burning eyes turned to Antenora, who met the Devourer’s gaze without flinching. “Take up your power. It will not save you. Take up your power and come forth…and I shall have you at last.”

Calliande opened her mouth, but Ridmark spoke first. 

“You can wait for us, if you wish,” said Ridmark. “There is an excellent chance that an orcish shaman of considerable power, a dark elven prince, and Shadowbearer himself are about to converge upon the Vault. Can you face all of them?” 

“Foolish Gray Knight,” said the Devourer with a hiss. “Do you think to frighten me with those titles? I am older than them all. I was already ancient when I came to this world, and I have feasted upon uncounted thousands. Your precious soulblades could slay a dark elven prince and even the bearer of Incariel’s shadow, but they could not kill me. I am older and stronger than them all…and if I do not wish to be seen, am I not. I will wait for you, Calliande of Tarlion, and then you shall be mine.”

She stepped sideways, and then simply vanished. 

“Where did she go?” said Ridmark. 

“I don’t know,” said Mara, looking back and forth. 

“The creature is powerful enough to shield itself even from the Sight,” said Antenora. “Likely by shifting more of its essence to the threshold, or a spell of masking power that even my experience with the Sight cannot penetrate.” 

“Then,” said Calliande with a shudder, “that thing was likely following us the entire time through Khald Azalar.”

“Probably,” said Ridmark, his eyes roaming over the empty stone expanse of the hall. “It waited two hundred years for you to come back. It would have recognized you at once, and it was clever enough to follow us here.” 

“Perhaps the Traveler and Mournacht will kill it for us,” said Kharlacht. 

“Or it will kill the Traveler and Mournacht,” said Jager. 

Antenora shook her head. “I doubt this. If it can conceal itself from my Sight, I suspect it has the power to conceal itself from the powers of Mournacht and the Traveler.”

“For now, it cannot penetrate that ward,” said Ridmark. “The time has come to enter Dragonfall.”

Calliande took a shuddering breath, taking one last look around for the Devourer. The creature had concealed itself perfectly. It seemed the Devourer was yet another complication that her past self had failed to foresee, just as she had failed to foresee that Shadowbearer might destroy the Order of the Vigilant. 

But as Ridmark had told her time and time again, no plan of battle survived meeting with the enemy. Despite everything that had gone wrong, despite the labors of Shadowbearer and his servants, she had come at last to the doors of Dragonfall.

The time had come.

“Yes,” said Calliande, turning away from the ward and towards the deep-set golden doors, the empty eyes of the dragon skull staring down at her. “It has.” 

Chapter 14: Alone

Calliande procrastinated as long as she could by healing the wounds her friends had taken in the fighting. The pain of the wounds flooded through her, but she embraced it without flinching. Part of her mind knew that it was a distraction, a way to turn her attention from what was about to happen.

A few moments later she had healed the last of the wounds, and she was out of time. 

Calliande took slow steps towards the doors of Dragonfall, Ridmark and the others around her. The doors were perhaps twelve feet wide and twenty-four feet high, and stood in an archway set back about six feet into the smooth wall of dwarf-worked stone. The great dragon skull stared down at her. The skull’s gaze did not seem threatening, merely…watchful. As if some mind and will still waited for her beyond the doors. The doors themselves displayed ornate scenes of dragons, wrought with the masterful skill of the high elves of Cathair Solas. 

Odd that she knew so little of their history. The dragons had once ruled this world, and then they had died out or departed. The elves remained, and had ruled for a hundred thousand years of peace until the shadow of Incariel lured the dark elves into evil. Over millennia of war, the dark elves summoned kindred after kindred from other worlds to aid them, until at last they summoned the urdmordar and were destroyed. Then Malahan Pendragon and the survivors of Arthur Pendragon’s realm upon Old Earth had come…and now Calliande stood before these ancient doors. 

She recognized both the doors and the skull. That no longer surprised her. She could not remember it, but she was certain, utterly certain, that she had once stood here in fear and doubt.

Just as she now stood here in fear and doubt. 

“There is another ward across the arch,” said Mara. 

Ridmark looked at Calliande. “It will likely yield to you.”

Calliande nodded and lifted a hand. White light suddenly filled the archway, the power crackling around her fingertips. She felt again the deep, solid presence of the magic, the kind of magic she now knew that had once been wielded by the Keeper of Andomhaim. Calliande took a deep breath and stepped forward, intending to stride through the ward and unravel it. 

Only to rebound from the wall of ghostly light just as the Devourer had been repelled. 

She stumbled back, blinking in surprise. The ward had not hurt, but it had nonetheless been a forceful shove.

Ridmark frowned. “It won’t let you through?” 

“I…don’t know,” said Calliande. She lifted her hand, and once again her fingers passed easily through the wall of light. She stepped forward, and again the ward flashed, pushing her back. 

“Maybe the Key would open it?” said Jager.

A horrible thought came to Calliande. Maybe she had designed this ward to yield before the magic bound with in the Key to the Vault of the Kings. The Key was still in the Vault, lying near poor Irunzad’s corpse…and to get the Key, Calliande would have to leave the protection of the ward and reclaim it. They had barely survived facing the Devourer. They might not survive a second confrontation with the malophage. 

“No,” said Antenora, staring at the ward. “This is more of the Keeper’s magic. The craft of the stonescribes, however potent, would be useless against it.”

“Maybe it will open to you,” said Jager. “You’re the Keeper’s apprentice.”

“Doubtful, as the Keeper did not know of my existence when she worked this ward,” said Antenora, but she shrugged and lifted a black-gloved hand. At once the ward knocked her back a step. “Curious.”

“What is it?” said Calliande, touching the ward again. Her fingers passed through the light without resistance, and did not stop until the ward reached her wrist.

Until it touched her shirt. 

“Perhaps you should roll up your sleeve,” said Antenora, even as the idea came to Calliande. 

She nodded and rolled up her left sleeve to the elbow, and then pushed her arm forward. Her forearm passed through the light, and stopped when her elbow reached the ward.

No. When her sleeve reached the ward. 

“The spell,” said Antenora. “It is linked to you, and will repel anything not of your essence, Keeper.”

“My essence?” said Calliande. “You mean…oh.”

She swallowed as she realized what that meant. Calliande would have to pass the doors of Dragonfall alone. She would have to recover her staff and her memories alone.

Perhaps that should not surprise her. Yet somehow she had always thought Ridmark would be with her when the moment came. Calliande looked at him, and he smiled. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I would have gone with you, if I could.” 

“Thank you,” said Calliande. “I would never have made it here without your help.” She looked at the others, at Kharlacht and Caius and Gavin and Morigna and Mara and Jager and Arandar and Antenora. “Thank you, all of you. For everything.”

Kharlacht grunted. “Given the number of our wounds that you have healed, it seems only fair.” 

“We will wait here for you,” said Ridmark. 

“Thank you,” said Calliande. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Now…ah, if you could all turn your backs, I would appreciate that.”

“What?” said Jager. “Why?” 

“Because,” said Antenora, “only the Keeper’s essence may pass through the ward. All other matter and energy shall be blocked.” 

“What does that mean?” said Jager.

“It means,” said Morigna, “that only Calliande and Calliande alone can pass through the ward.” There was a bit of amusement in her voice, damn her. “So she will need to remove all her clothing.” 

Silence answered that. Jager gave a slightly embarrassed cough and turned away from the doors. 

“We should keep watch over the Vault in case any foes arrive,” said Ridmark. He locked eyes with Calliande for a moment. “God go with you.” 

Calliande managed to nod. “Thank you.”

Ridmark nodded and turned to face the empty stone hall, the others following suit. 

“Mara,” said Calliande. “Could you…”

“Of course,” said Mara, stepping closer. 

Calliande pulled off her cloak, then her jerkin, shirt, belt, boots, and trousers, folding them and handing them over to Mara one by one. She passed over her daggers, first the enchanted dagger the Taalkaz of the Dwarven Enclave in Coldinium had given her, and then the dagger that Ridmark had given her before the siege of Dun Licinia, the dagger that had let her find him again after Qazarl’s defeat. Last she handed Mara the pouch containing the empty soulstone that Shadowbearer intended to use on her, the soulstone the Warden had almost used to create his gate to Old Earth. 

Then at last she stood naked before the ward. Peculiarly, removing her clothes was almost a relief. The last time she had been able to bathe had been in the Vale of Stone Death, and she had not washed her clothes since leaving the Iron Tower. They were stained with sweat and soot and smoke, and smelled just as bad as they looked. 

Perhaps she had come full circle. Her ancient clothes had crumbled into dust after she had awakened below the Tower of Vigilance, and Qazarl’s warriors had dragged her naked before Shadowbearer. Perhaps it was appropriate that she would face her past with nothing but her own flesh and blood and will. 

Nonetheless, Calliande wished she could have kept her damned clothes on. She felt a ridiculous urge to look over her shoulder to see if anyone was staring. To see if Ridmark was staring at her…

“Mara,” said Calliande. “Thank you.” 

“Go,” said Mara. “We’ll be waiting for you when you come back.” 

“Thank you,” said Calliande. 

She stepped through the arch, passing through the ward. The curtain of white light flashed and flickered, and the golden doors began to glow before her. Calliande reached out with a shaking hand and touched the doors, and felt a jolt of power from them. The doors swung inward in utter silence, revealing a stone gallery, its walls lined with countless skulls…

Dragon skulls.

Calliande stepped through the golden doors, and suddenly gray mist rose up to swallow her.

The last thing she heard was Ridmark shouting.

###

Ridmark stared into the empty space of the hall, his eyes resting on Irunzad’s corpse.

Anger pulsed through him. Irunzad had clung to his duty for centuries, and had died fulfilling that duty. The Devourer deserved death for that, for all the other murders the creature had wrought over the millennia. However, Ridmark was certain they could not defeat the creature without the aid of the Keeper’s restored magical power. 

So they had no choice but to wait. Sometimes the wait before a battle was the hardest part. 

Especially since the Key to the Vault of the Kings lay with Irunzad. 

Ridmark was beginning to suspect that they should have closed the doors of the Vault behind them. If they closed the doors to the Vault, perhaps they could prevent the Traveler and Mournacht from gaining access to it. On the other hand, maybe the doors could not be closed from the inside. Or, worse, perhaps the doors could not be opened again from the inside, and Ridmark and his companions would be trapped within.

Or Mournacht and Shadowbearer or the Traveler would settle down to wait patiently outside the Vault. 

Either way, it was too late now. 

Nonetheless, Ridmark was certain they should not leave the Key where the Devourer could claim it, or Mournacht or the Traveler. Part of his mind tried to work out a plan to get the Key back before the Devourer realized it was gone. Another part of his mind watched the empty hall for any sign of attack. 

The rest of his mind contemplated the cold, hard fact that he might never see Calliande again. 

It was possible that she had left other defenses inside Dragonfall, defenses that might kill her. He wished that he could help her, but Ridmark had gone as far on that path as he could. The rest was up to her.

And if she returned, if she emerged from Dragonfall with her memory and power restored…she might not be the same woman any longer. She had feared the woman she had once been, the Keeper who had been cold enough to seal herself away from the world for two hundred years, to lose everyone and everything she had ever known. That woman would return, once Calliande retrieved her memory…and the Keeper of Andomhaim might not have a use for a man like Ridmark Arban, a branded exile from the High Kingdom 

The thought made him sadder than he would have thought. 

No matter. Calliande had her task, and Ridmark had his. Another nine months and Shadowbearer would no longer be able to open the way to the world of the Frostborn. They just had to keep the empty soulstone from him for that long…