Frostborn: The Eightfold Knife (32 page)

She laughed again. “For you? To see if you are worthy to serve the goddess?”

“Not for me,” said Ridmark. “For you.”

Morwen recoiled as if he had slapped her. “For me?”

And suddenly, even through his rage, Gavin understood why Ridmark had been so willing to chance a confrontation with Agrimnalazur. 

“Do not dare to speak to me in that tone,” said Morwen. “I am the daughter of a goddess! You…”

“You’re not,” said Ridmark. “Agrimnalazur is not a goddess, and even if she was, you’re only her tool. And she’s testing to see if you are a worthy tool. If I defeat you, Agrimnalazur will not come to your aid. The urdmordar dislike confrontation, and prefer to work through servants. She’ll merely leave and set up a larder for herself somewhere else. You, however, will be dead.”

Morwen said nothing, her fingers tightening against the dagger’s hilt.

“This is your last chance,” said Ridmark. “You…”

Morwen screamed, and Cornelius shrank against the archway.

“Kill them!” shouted Morwen. “Kill them in the name of great Agrimnalazur!” 

The other three spiderlings raced forward, and Morwen raised her hands, black fire crackling around her fingers.

###

Ridmark charged, his staff in hand, and met the three spiderlings.

The first one lunged, reaching with crimson claws. Ridmark danced back, just missing the red talons, and struck with his staff. The heavy weapon landed against the spiderling’s hip with enough force to break bone.

Human bone, at any rate. 

The spiderling stumbled, but recovered fast enough to avoid his next swing.

The other two spiderlings rushed him, but Gavin and Kharlacht and Caius and Philip charged into the fray. Kharlacht swung and one of the spiderlings jumped back, but not before his dark elven blade carved a line of black ichor along her ribs. Gavin bashed a spiderling across the face with his shield, and as she stumbled, Philip drove his hammer into her ribs with all his strength. The spiderling’s ribs, crimson chitin rather than white bone, burst from her skin.

The spiderling screamed in fury and backhanded Philip, the blow sending him to the ground. 

Ridmark swung his staff again, catching the first spiderling across the head. The impact would have killed a human, but again the spiderling shrugged it off. She danced back, her mouth yawning wide, and Ridmark ducked as a gobbet of green venom burst from her mouth. 

It missed him but struck Kharlacht’s chest, sizzling against his blue armor. The orc growled and continued his attack, his sword rising and falling. 

Then darkness fell over the plaza, a column of shadow rising from the stairs as Morwen unleashed her spell.

###

Calliande summoned more magic. 

She considered casting a spell upon Morwen, but discarded the idea. Morwen was casting a spell at Ridmark and the others. Unless Calliande protected them, her dark magic would kill them all. Dark power flared around Morwen, and a vortex of shadow whirled around her, preparing to fall upon the melee. Cornelius cringed against the arch, his eyes full of fear.

Morwen focused her magic upon the fight, but Calliande struck first. A blast of white fire sprang from her hands and slammed into the spiderling. The vortex of shadows unraveled and dissipated into nothingness. Morwen rocked back a step, all eight of her green eyes focusing upon Calliande. 

“Come forth!” shouted Morwen. “Come forth and aid me! Your mistress commands it!” 

She beckoned, and shadows moved within the tower.

A lupivir raced forth from the entrance, and for an instant Calliande wondered if Rakhaag’s packs had gotten inside. But this beastman had been dead for a long time. Ragged wisps of torn webs hung from its matted fur, and the creature was gaunt, as if all the flesh had been siphoned away beneath its furry hide.

One of Agrimnalazur’s victims.

A dozen more emaciated corpses emerged from the archway, summoned by Morwen’s dark magic. They staggered down the steps and charged at Calliande, reaching for her with dead hands.

###

The wounded spiderling hissed, ichor leaking from the ghastly wound Philip had left in her chest. But the creature showed no signs of pain as she drove at Gavin. Again and again he raised his shield, her crimson talons raking at the wood. Her claws dug splinters from the shield, but it held beneath her onslaught. 

She stepped back, and Gavin realized what was coming next.

He lowered his shield, hoping to lure her in. 

Her pincers yawned wide, and a gob of poison burst from her mouth. Gavin jerked his shield up at the last moment, the venom spattering against it. A few drops arced over the rim to land against his chain mail, but the poison missed his eyes and mouth.

And for a moment, the spiderling was vulnerable.

Gavin thrust his sword. The orcish blade stabbed into the wound Philip’s hammer had left, and he felt the shudder of the spiderling’s heartbeat through the hilt. She howled in fury, black ichor bubbling around her lips, and Gavin ripped his sword free and stabbed against before she recovered.

The spiderling toppled to the ground. 

Gavin turned. Part of him, most of him, wanted to run at Cornelius, to kill his father for what he had done. But the rest of his mind, the part that had grown colder and harder over the last few days, told him to look at battle. Philip still lay stunned upon the ground, his eyelids twitching as he regained consciousness. Ridmark and Kharlacht and Caius fought against the remaining two spiderlings. Calliande stood ablaze in an aura of white light, flinging spells against Morwen.

Dead men raced from the tower, charging at Calliande.

Ridmark had said the urdmordar often raised their victims as undead guardians. 

Morwen had called them forth to kill Calliande.

Gavin attacked the undead, shielding Calliande as he had during the fight in the woods. He struck the first corpse, a towering beastman, across the face with his shield. The undead staggered, and then Gavin swung his sword once, twice, three times. On the third blow he took off the beastman’s head, and the gaunt corpse collapsed to the ground. No blood came from the stump or the severed head.

Likely Agrimnalazur had drank it all.

The undead closed around him, and Gavin fought to keep them away from Calliande. 

###

Ridmark jabbed his staff into a spiderling’s belly. The creature doubled over with a wheeze of breath, pincers clacking in front of her face. Kharlacht raised his sword over his head and brought it down. The blade sheared through the spiderling’s neck in one smooth motion, and the creature collapsed, dark slime pooling beneath her body. 

The final spiderling fell back, dodging the swings of Caius’s mace and the thrusts of Kharlacht’s heavy sword.

Ridmark risked a look around. 

Morwen and Calliande stood locked in magical battle, white fire and black shadows snarling back and forth between them. A score of undead charged from the tower, and Gavin fought to keep them from Calliande, and the boy falling back the growing mass of animated corpses. Ridmark saw Morwen’s strategy at once. She and Calliande were equally matched in power. But if Morwen held Calliande’s attention, the undead could strike her down.

Unless Ridmark intervened.

A plan formed in his mind, and he shifted his staff to his left hand, drawing his orcish war axe in his right. He charged across the courtyard, leaving Kharlacht and Caius to finish the final spiderling, and bellowed at the top of his lungs. 

Morwen spotted him as he dashed up the stairs. He swung his staff for her head, and she caught it, holding it in place with her inhuman strength.

“Foolish Gray Knight,” she hissed, shadows whirling around her. “I am worthy of Agrimnalazur, and you shall perish!”

She ripped the staff from his hand. Ridmark let her, the movement yanking him forward, and he buried the axe’s blade in her side.

Her mouth yawned in a sudden cry of pain, and the shadows around her flickered and faded. Ridmark ripped the axe free, got both hands around the haft, and drove the weapon into her neck. 

Morwen fell, her features going slack.

“You should have listened,” he said.

A pulse of shadow went out from her and vanished, and the animated corpses collapsed. Ridmark retrieved his staff, leaving his axe in Morwen. Cornelius cowered against the arch, staring at him with wide eyes, and Ridmark ignored him.

He turned as Kharlacht and Caius cut down the last spiderling. The white fire faded from around Calliande as she released her magic, and Gavin helped Philip to his feet. The fires blazed ever brighter through the ruins of Urd Arowyn, and over the stench of spiderling ichor Ridmark smelled the harsh bite of smoke. The dark shapes of the lupivirii raced into the plaza, Rakhaag at their head. 

Ridmark walked to the base of the steps, and Rakhaag ran to join him.

“Ridmark son of Leogrance,” said the lupivir alpha, his claws and fangs stained with orcish blood.

“Rakhaag son of Balhaag,” said Ridmark, the others gathering around him. “You are victorious?”

Rakhaag bared his fangs. “We hunted the tainted orcs from street to street, and left them to drown in their own poisoned blood. They may have been warriors, but they were not hunters. Most were slain, ambushed in the streets, and the rest have fled.”

“What of the villagers?” said Ridmark.

Rakhaag shrugged, an odd gesture in his beast form. “They fled as well. Most have obeyed your commands and gathered with the priest and the female. Others have fled into the woods. They are safe now, as you wished.” He growled. “Will you heed your word and help us rescue our females and our young?”

“I shall,” said Ridmark. “Likely they are within.” He pointed at the tower’s entrance with his staff. “We shall enter and investigate.”

“I will come with you,” said Calliande.

Ridmark wanted to refuse her, but he knew better. If his guess about Agrimnalazur had been wrong, if the urdmordar awaited them in the tower, Calliande’s magic would be the only chance of escape.

“Very well,” said Ridmark.

He paused long enough to wrench his axe from Morwen’s corpse. The dark elven dagger lay near her right hand, the blade still burning with black fire. It seemed the dagger remained charged with dark power, even if the rest of Morwen’s magic had dissipated with her death. Ridmark would have to ask Calliande to dispel it before they departed Urd Arowyn. 

“Kharlacht, Caius,” said Ridmark. “Help the older villagers from the plaza, and then search the rest of the ruins for anyone still hiding. Rakhaag, have your hunters aid them.”

Rakhaag snarled.

“I would be grateful if you would do as he asks, Rakhaag,” said Calliande.

“As you will, Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag.

“Philip, Gavin,” said Ridmark. “Go outside of the ruins and take charge of the camp. Bardus and Mallen and Richard and the others will need aid. Calliande and I will return once we have freed Rakhaag’s kin.”

Or Agrimnalazur would kill them all. Or perhaps Ridmark had been right and the urdmordar had abandoned the ruins once victory had eluded Morwen. 

Gavin stepped to Ridmark’s side, his eyes empty, his face hard.

“There is one thing,” he said, “that I have to do first.”

Without another word he stepped towards his father, sword in hand.

“Gavin!” said Calliande, but the boy ignored her.

Gavin stopped a few paces from Cornelius, and for a moment father and son stared at each other. Gavin remained expressionless, while Cornelius wept, his face trembling.

“I did it for you,” whispered Cornelius. “All of it, I did it to save you. She would have killed you, if you had not cooperated.”

“The same way,” said Gavin, “you killed my mother?”

“Yes,” said Cornelius. “She was so brave, Gavin. She was the bravest man or woman I have ever known. You are…you are so like her. If she had known the truth, she would have done just as you did. Gone off with a sword to save us all from Agrimnalazur.” He shook his head. “But it didn’t matter, did it? Aranaeus is gone. I did it to save you, to save Aranaeus…but you didn’t need me to save you, and Aranaeus is ashes.”

He slumped against the wall, defeated. 

“You should kill me,” said Cornelius. “I deserve it for what I’ve done.” He closed his eyes and titled his head back, exposing his throat. “Just…just make it quick. I don’t deserve that, I know, but…”

He fell silent, and Gavin lifted his sword.

But the boy did not strike, and Ridmark saw tears sliding down his face. His arm trembled, and at last he turned away. 

Cornelius opened his eyes. 

“I can’t do it,” whispered Gavin. “I want to do it, he deserves it, but…but I can’t. You should kill him.”

Ridmark nodded. “Aye, but I won’t. Once the villagers of Aranaeus elect a new praefectus, we will hand Cornelius over to him. The villagers can decide what to do next.”

Gavin nodded and said nothing else.

“Tie him up and leave him here,” said Ridmark to Philip. “We’ll deal with him later.” He looked at Calliande and Rakhaag. “Let’s go.”

He turned towards the tower entrance, and then a woman’s voice rang out, confident and melodious and beautiful beyond belief.

And oddly familiar.

“No need to trouble yourself,” said the woman in perfect Latin. “None of that will be necessary.”

Ridmark turned, the hair standing up on the back of his neck.

Old Agnes walked across the plaza, her cane tapping against the ground, her black gown rippling around her withered frame.

“Oh,” said Ridmark as he understood at last.

But too late. 

Chapter 21 - Before the Ice

Calliande watched as Ridmark strode towards Agnes, axe and staff in hand. 

The old woman stopped twenty paces from him, both hands resting upon the handle of her cane. The confusion, the dreamy obliviousness, had vanished from her face. Her expression was sharp and focused…and amused. 

Her eyes flickered with a faint green glow.