Frostborn: The Eightfold Knife (4 page)

But it was not enough. The Magistri could only draw so much magic at one time, and Calliande had nearly reached her limit, and the effort of holding the spell upon Caius’s mace was draining her further.

The kobolds closed around them. 

And it seemed that the Watcher hadn’t needed to worry about Calliande going to Urd Morlemoch after all. 

Chapter 3 - Alpha

Ridmark ran through the trees, Kharlacht keeping pace behind him. 

A half-overgrown trail wound its way through the trees. If Ridmark’s memory served, it led to the cultivated fields of Aranaeus, though few of the villagers ever ventured far from the safety of their walls. He heard the howls of the beastmen, and caught glimpses of dark shapes racing through the dense trees.

Quite a few dark shapes. 

They were hunting something, but not Ridmark or Kharlacht. He didn’t think the lupivirii at the riverbank had expected to find him.  Most likely they had been watching for someone approaching from the west, not the east. That explained why they had failed to notice him until he had crossed the ford. 

But who were the beastmen hunting?

The trail led into a wide clearing. Ridmark paused for a moment to get his bearings, and then a figure sprinted from the trees.

It was a human boy of about fifteen years, old enough to serve as a knight’s squire or a craftsman’s apprentice. He was tall and wiry, with a ragged shock of curly brown hair and brown eyes wide with fear. He staggered into the clearing, breathing hard, and stopped when he saw Ridmark and Kharlacht.

“Run!” said the boy in Latin. “The wolfmen, they…”

A half-dozen beastmen crashed into the clearing. The boy backed towards Ridmark and Kharlacht, a heavy club in his right hand. Ridmark saw blood and clumps of fur stuck to the length of wood. Scratches marred the boy’s forearms, and blood stained his tunic and trousers. 

“Run!” said the boy. “Whoever you are, run! I’ll hold them off! Go…”

A dozen more beastmen came into the clearing, snarling. They moved into a circle, showing their fangs and growling, but did not move closer. They had expected to find the boy, but they had not anticipated Ridmark or Kharlacht. That would make them hesitate for a few moments while they considered the new threat.

And then they would kill Ridmark, Kharlacht, and the boy.

“What is your name?” said Ridmark, raising his staff.

“Gavin,” said the boy. He took a deep breath. “I’ll charge them, and you can…”

“Gavin,” said Ridmark, “if you want to live, do exactly as I say.” He scanned the waiting lupivirii. There were at least twenty, with more entering the clearing. Understand?”

“But…” said Gavin.

“You will do,” said Ridmark in the voice he had used when he had taken command of the army of Andomhaim at Dun Licinia, “exactly as I command.” He spotted the biggest of the wolfmen, and decided to take a gamble. “Now wait here until I return.”

Before either Kharlacht or Gavin could stop him, Ridmark strode towards the biggest lupivir. The other beastmen snarled and snapped, but Ridmark ignored them. He stopped a dozen paces from the largest beastman and stared at the creature, meeting the golden eyes with his own.

The lupivir reared upon his legs, standing nearly nine feet tall, a solid tower of muscle and fur. 

“You think,” said Ridmark in orcish, “to challenge me?”

The beastman’s golden eyes narrowed. He did not throw himself at Ridmark. That meant he was at least in partial control of his instincts, was more intelligent than the others. The alphas of the beastmen packs often were smarter than their fellows.

“You are the challenger, human,” growled the towering lupivir. 

“I am Ridmark, son of Leogrance, son of Rience, from Taliand in the south,” said Ridmark.

“And I,” hissed the beastman, “am Rakhaag, son of Balhaag, son of Talhaag, and you stand upon our range.” His nostrils flared. “And I smell the blood of my kin upon you.” 

“Yes,” said Ridmark. “Two of your kin attacked me when I crossed the river, and I killed them.”

“Then they should have proven stronger,” said Rakhaag. “You slew them with a sword, I assume? The craven tool of weaklings.”

“No,” said Ridmark, lifting his staff. “With this.”

Rakhaag regarded it for a moment. “A club. Still a craven’s weapon…but less of a craven.”

“You call me craven?” said Ridmark. “I name you craven, Rakhaag son of Balhaag son of Talhaag.”

An ominous growl went up from the beastmen, but Rakhaag only glared.

“And why do you bring such a challenge?” said Rakhaag.

“Because you prey upon humans,” said Ridmark. “I know the True People. You are strong and fast and contemptuous of injury and death. You can outran a deer and bring it down, or face the fury and the tusks of an enraged boar. All this the True People can do, yet you have chosen to hunt humans, creatures too slow to outrun you and too weak to slay with their bare hands. Have you grown so weak, Rakhaag, so feeble that you must turn to such…”

Rakhaag roared, and Ridmark’s hand tightened around his staff. But the lupivir mastered himself, and glared down at Ridmark.

“We have not hunted you,” spat Rakhaag, “but you have hunted us. Humans and orcs have issued from their shelter, kidnapping our young and our females, and taken them into captivity.”

Ridmark wanted to look at Gavin to see his reaction, but he dared not take his eyes from Rakhaag. The alpha would interpret that as a sign of weakness and attack. 

“You have proof of this?” said Ridmark.

Rakhaag showed his fangs. “The True People do not lie. Humans and orcs and dwarves build tools of lies from cunning words, but the True People do not. I have smelled them with my own nose, followed the trails with my own feet. Humans and orcs have taken our females and our young and carried them into captivity.”

“I know nothing of this,” said Ridmark. 

“You lie,” growled Rakhaag. “Humans lie. Orcs lie. I think you carried off our children. You will tell us what you have done with them, or I shall kill you and feast upon your flesh.”

“No,” said Ridmark.

Rakhaag growled, his muscles tensing, and Ridmark hit him across the face with his staff. 

It was not a hard blow, not hard enough to break bone, but it was enough to knock the hulking lupivir back a step.

The other beastmen growled, and Ridmark raised his staff.

“I challenge you!” he roared at the top of his lungs. “I, Ridmark son of Leogrance son of Rience, challenge Rakhaag son of Balhaag son of Talhaag! Before this pack, I name you craven, weak, and unfit, a hunter of humans because you are too weak to hunt proper prey! Let me pass, or I shall kill you where you stand!”

“Human craven!” said Rakhaag. “You think to challenge one of the True People? You steal our young and females, and then hide behind your cunning lies?”

“You fear to face my challenge?” said Ridmark. “You are as weak as I thought! Little wonder you prey upon humans! I shall…”

Rakhaag bellowed in pure rage. “Human worm! I accept your challenge!” 

The lupivir surged forward, all claws and fangs and dark fur. Kharlacht and Gavin shouted warnings, while the other beastmen roared in support of their alpha. 

Ridmark thrust his staff, ducking under the blur of Rakhaag’s claws, and drove the end of the weapon into the lupivir’s stomach. The shock of the impact almost ripped the staff from his hands. Yet Rakhaag came to a painful halt, his jaw falling open as the breath exploded from his lungs. Ridmark charged as Rakhaag wheezed, and brought his staff around in a two-handed swing. The length of heavy wood slammed into the back of Rakhaag’s right knee, and the lupivir’s leg folded. Rakhaag let out a croaking cry, and Ridmark’s next swing landed in the small of the beastman’s back. 

Rakhaag’s legs went out from under him, and the lupivir landed hard upon his back. Before the beastman could recover, Ridmark sprang upon him, slamming his staff against Rakhaag’s throat and arms, the musky stench of the lupivir’s fur filling his nostrils. His knees pinned the staff in place, pressing it against Rakhaag’s neck and wrists. The lupivir gurgled as the staff sank into his neck. He bucked and heaved, trying to regain his feet. Yet Rakhaag had no leverage, and he began to wheeze, his tongue lashing at his fangs.

“Yield,” said Ridmark.

Rakhaag tried to snarl. 

“Yield,” said Ridmark, “or I’ll choke you to death.”

He leaned a little harder on the staff.

“Kill me,” rasped Rakhaag, “and the others will tear you apart.”

“Aye,” said Ridmark, “but you’ll be dead, and then I’ll be dead, and there will be no one left to find out who kidnapped your females and young.” 

Rakhaag snarled, though not as loudly. Perhaps he did not have the breath.

Ridmark leaned against the staff, and Rakhaag shuddered. 

“Yield,” said Ridmark, “or die, and never find your females and your young.”

Rakhaag shuddered again. “Yield. I yield.”

Ridmark stood, pulled his staff from Rakhaag’s throat, and stepped back, the weapon ready. Rakhaag staggered to his feet, coughing and wheezing, one clawed hand massaging his neck. 

“You are weak, Rakhaag!” said another lupivir, stalking toward the leader of the pack. The beastman glared at the larger male. “If you allow this human to dominate you, you are not fit to lead us, and I challenge…”

“Accepted,” said Rakhaag, and his free hand moved in a blur. The younger male never even saw the blow coming. Rakhaag’s talons tore out his throat, and the smaller male collapsed, his body shrinking back into its half-human, half-bestial form. 

For a moment no one said anything.

“Withdraw,” said Rakhaag to the rest of the pack, “and keep watch over the shelters of the humans.” His furious yellow eyes turned back to Ridmark. “You and the orc may pass, and you may even take the whelp. But if you have lied to me, I shall rip out your throat and drink your blood.”

“I did not take your children, nor do I know who did,” said Ridmark. “I swear it on the name of the Dominus Christus and all his saints.”

“I care nothing for your human god,” said Rakhaag, “but we shall see if you speak the truth.” 

He turned, dropped to all fours, and loped from the clearing, vanishing into the trees. The other lupivirii followed suit. Some stopped long enough to snarl and growl at Ridmark, but none would meet his gaze, and they followed Rakhaag from the clearing.

Soon Ridmark was alone with Kharlacht and Gavin. 

“I am surprised,” said Kharlacht in Latin.

Ridmark turned. “Surprised at what?” 

“That,” said Kharlacht, “we are still alive.” 

Ridmark looked at the dead beastman. “As am I.” 

“What…what did you do?” said Gavin. The boy was trying to keep a brave face, but he was as white as a sheet, and a faint twitch kept going through his jaw. The hand that held his club, though, remained steady as a stone. “You talked to them, you fought the largest beastman…and then they all turned and ran.” He shook his head. “How did you do that?”

“By cleverness,” rumbled Kharlacht. “He is very clever.” 

“By understanding,” said Ridmark. “The beastmen are like wolves. A wolf pack has a dominant male, an alpha. Challenge the alpha, and none of the other wolves will trouble you.” 

“They would have killed me,” said Gavin. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “Might I know your name, sir?”

“Ridmark Arban,” said Ridmark. Gavin showed no sign of recognition. “This is Kharlacht of Vhaluusk, a baptized orc.”

Gavin looked at the wooden cross resting against Kharlacht’s dark elven armor. “I see.” He drew himself up. “My name is Gavin, and my father is Cornelius, the praefectus of the village of Aranaeus.”

“I’ve met him,” said Ridmark. Nine years ago, when he had passed through Aranaeus on his way to Urd Morlemoch, Cornelius had been a tall, plump, unpleasant man with a tendency toward avarice. Gavin seemed to take more after his mother, fortunately for him. “I visited Aranaeus about nine years ago.”

Gavin blinked. “Ridmark Arban…you’re the Gray Knight! The peddlers who sometimes visit the village talk about you. They say to avenge your lady love you hunt creatures of the darkness, that you…”

Ridmark looked at him, and Gavin fell silent. 

“The lupivirii,” Ridmark said, “seem to believe that men and orcs from Aranaeus kidnapped their women and children. What do you think of that?”

“We did not!” said Gavin. “There have always been packs of beastmen near the dark elven ruins in the hills, but they kept to themselves, and we did not trouble them. But the blue fire came a fortnight ago, and then people started disappearing…”

“Wait,” said Ridmark. “You men people disappeared from the village?”

Gavin bobbed his head. “At first the shepherds and the woodcutters, people who spent most of their time outside the walls and away from the fields. My father said that perhaps pagan orcs took them,” he shot a nervous glance at Kharlacht, “or maybe one of the creatures lurking in the ruins claimed them. But then more and more people disappeared, some from inside the village. My father said the beastmen did it.”

Ridmark considered this. “You don’t believe it.”

“No, sir,” said Gavin.

“Why not?” said Ridmark. 

“Because the wolfmen are like you said, sir,” said Gavin. “They’re…Father Martel says they have souls, but that they think with their bellies and their fangs, not their heads. I could see them taking a man outside the walls, if they were starving. Like wild wolves do. But the village has strong walls and a stout gate, and my father posts men at watch every night. How could the beastmen get into the town and kidnap people? Especially without raising an alarm?”

“They couldn’t,” said Ridmark. “Not unless they had help. Or something else took those people.”

“That is what I thought,” said Gavin. “And the beastmen say that we took their women and their children. But why would we do that?”

Kharlacht shrugged. “Among the dark elven princes, they keep packs of enslaved wolfmen as war beasts. Some of the pagan orcish chieftains do, as well.” 

“Well, we of Aranaeus are neither dark elves nor orcish kings, sir,” said Gavin. “We mind our own business, and if others do the same we repay them in kind. No one in Aranaeus took the beastmen. Why would we?”