Frostborn: The False King (15 page)

“Indeed,” said Caius. “Had Ridmark a mind to do so, he could have led the Anathgrimm on the conquest of Andomhaim and installed himself as High King. Against any other foe save the Frostborn, we would have prevailed by now.” He shook his head, beard rustling against his robes. “The Frostborn are simply too powerful.”

“The war against the Frostborn cannot be won,” said Calliande. The statement fell like lead from her lips, and she made herself keep talking. “Unless we close their gate. That is the only way to victory. We have to drive them from the Northerland, back to the Black Mountain, and close the world gate. Only then can we prevail.” 

Neither Kharlacht nor Caius had anything to say to that, and Calliande’s eyes wandered, as her mind focused upon holding the icy bridge in place. The river bank here was narrow, a thin patch of rocky ground between the River Moradel and the silent trees of Nightmane Forest. She spotted Ridmark talking with Qhazulak, Sir Ector, and Third. Calliande’s Sight saw the currents of power shimmering in the strange woman’s veins. Evidently Third had once been an urdhracos but had somehow regained control of herself and become (mostly) human once more, though with powers similar to those Mara wielded. Calliande was curious how that had happened, but Third had not spoken to her, and Ridmark had been reticent on the topic. 

Ridmark had been reticent on most topics. Calliande had shared news with Caius and Kharlacht and Camorak, telling them of the war in the south while they shared tales from their raids against the Frostborn, but Ridmark had avoided her. She couldn’t figure out why. Had she angered him? Was he still angry that she had walked into that ambush? 

She had missed him badly, and to see him again and to find him so cold was…difficult. 

“Keeper,” said Caius. “The last of the Anathgrimm have crossed.”

Calliande turned her attention back to the ice bridge. The Anathgrimm and the men-at-arms had crossed, and Calliande withdrew her power. The bridge shattered, the chunks bobbing away down the river. In a few moments, there would be no trace that the bridge had ever been there. Calliande rebuked herself for inattention. There were more important things happening around her. 

Third said something, and Ridmark nodded.

Then and there, Calliande almost asked Caius if Ridmark and Third had become lovers. 

A wave of embarrassed anger went through her. Ridmark didn’t owe her anything. Nor did she have the right to ask anything of him. Had she been delusional enough to think that after Morigna’s death, Ridmark would seek comfort in her arms? It was a thought unworthy of both of them. More importantly, she was the Keeper of Andomhaim, not a love-struck girl. She had duties, and her own emotions could play no consideration in her decisions. 

She might be the Keeper of Andomhaim…but around Ridmark, she was forced to admit, her heart turned into that of a love-struck girl. 

“Thank you,” said Calliande. “My attention wandered.” 

“Of course,” said Caius. She wondered what her expression had looked during that little interior struggle.

“Caius,” said Calliande. “How is Ridmark?”

Caius shrugged. “Unhurt, thanks to Camorak’s prowess with healing magic.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Calliande. 

Caius sighed. “His mind, you mean? Not well. I fear wrath has filled his heart, and there is little room for anything else within it.” 

Kharlacht frowned. “It has not overthrown his reason.” 

“No,” said Caius. “No, he is too strong for that. The wrath…it is another weapon he can use…ah, perhaps I should not speak of it.”

“Please,” said Calliande. “You are worried about him. So am I.”

“Very well,” said Caius. “You know what he was like after Aelia died. The grief had made him settle into despair, drove him to find the secret of the Frostborn or die trying. While he should not have lain with Morigna until they were wed, she did lift the shadow from his heart. Then we had a goal, as well, a mission to recover your power and stop return of the Frostborn. I think for the first time in years, Ridmark had hope. Morigna’s murder and the world gate changed that.”

“He blamed himself?” said Calliande.

“No,” said Caius. “He fell into the opposite error. For Aelia and Mhalek, he blamed himself. For Morigna, he blames the Enlightened and Tarrabus and the Frostborn. He will kill them all if he gets the chance, just as he killed Caradog Lordac.”

Kharlacht let out a rumbling growl. “They need killing. The wretch Caradog deserved his fate, and he was too dangerous to take prisoner.”

“Undoubtedly,” said Caius. “But even if Caradog had repented his sins, renounced the Enlightened, and begged for mercy, I think Ridmark would have killed him.”  

Calliande could not disagree.

“We had best be gone,” said Kharlacht. “The Frostborn are in pursuit of us, and it would be best to withdraw within the wards of Nightmane Forest before they find us.”

“Agreed,” said Caius. The Anathgrimm were forming themselves up. “Keeper?”

“Lead the way, Brother,” said Calliande.

She followed Caius and Kharlacht. Gavin and Antenora stood some distance off, watching the far bank and speaking in low voices, and fell in behind Calliande. She walked past the Anathgrimm, her Sight turning towards the edge of the Forest. Even at its boundary, she saw the mighty power surging through the trees, layer after layer of wards laid upon each other like the courses of stones in a fortress. The Traveler had spent millennia fortifying Nightmane Forest, armoring it in the most potent wards, and now Mara had inherited control of those wards. 

With a chill, Calliande realized that those mighty wards might one day be the last redoubt of those resisting the Frostborn. 

They stopped before Ridmark, Third, Qhazulak, and Ector. 

“The last of the men are across,” said Kharlacht.

“Good,” said Ridmark. His eyes shifted to Calliande. “Thank you for your aid. It saved us at least an hour.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

He did not smile back. “We should go at once. If you’ve come all this way to see Queen Mara, then the sooner you see her, the better.” 

“How curious,” said Ector. “All my life, Nightmane Forest has been spoken of with fear and horror among the nobles of the realm. Now I am about to walk into the place of my own free will.” 

“And you shall walk out of it of your own free will,” said Ridmark. “Come.”

###

Gavin had been in many strange places since leaving Aranaeus with Ridmark and his companions, but Nightmane Forest was one of the stranger ones.

Towering oak trees rose around them, their branches weaving together to form an impenetrable canopy. No sunlight would ever reach the floor of the forest, but that didn’t matter, since an eerie blue glow lit everything. Motes of blue light danced from tree to tree, the sight peculiar but oddly beautiful. Here and there among the trees stood monoliths of white stone, their sides written with symbols of blue fire. Even the Anathgrimm would have had trouble marching upon uneven ground, so the Traveler had constructed roads of white stone throughout his domain.

“A strange place,” said Gavin.

“But one of great power,” murmured Antenora, her yellow eyes flicking back and forth. “The wards here are mighty beyond anything I have ever seen. It is good that such power rests in the command of a friend.”

“Truly,” said Gavin, glancing at the men-at-arms. They were plainly nervous. The Anathgrimm might have rescued them from Caradog and the dvargir and turned the tide at the battle of Dun Calpurnia, but this was different. This was Nightmane Forest, and even in Aranaeus, Gavin had heard rumors of the horrors of the Forest and the terrible power of the Traveler. 

But the Traveler was dead, and Nightmane Forest belonged to Mara now. 

They came to an empty place in the forest. It wasn’t exactly a clearing. The branches wove together overhead to block out the sun, and the eerie blue glow illuminated everything. Yet the interior of the clearing had been paved with white stone, and at the far end of the clearing stood a dais of white stone supporting a large throne of the same material. A crowd of Anathgrimm stood around the dais.

Mara sat upon the throne, Jager waiting at her side.

Despite himself, Gavin smiled. He was glad to see Mara and Jager again. Jager, of course, was always amusing company. Mara had been so polite and soft-spoken that it had been easy to forget that she was a deadly assassin…and it seemed incongruous to see her wearing dark elven armor, a crown of blue steel upon her pale blond hair. 

As they approached, the crowd around the throne fell silent, and Mara stood. 

“Well, wife,” said Jager in his deep voice. He still wore the same clothes, a brilliant white shirt with a black leather vest. Gavin wondered if he made the Anathgrimm bleach it for him. “It seems we have visitors.” 

“I see that,” said Mara. 

She stepped forward off the edge of the dais and vanished in a swirl of blue fire.

Then she reappeared a yard in front of Calliande, strode forward, and caught the taller woman in a hug. 

“It is good to see you again!” said Mara, smiling as she stepped back. “I wish it could be under happier circumstances.”

“As do I,” said Calliande. “Queen Mara, what you and Lord Ridmark and the Anathgrimm have accomplished is nothing short of amazing. If not for you and your warriors, the Frostborn would have overrun the entire Northerland and stormed into the rest of the Andomhaim by now.” 

“I cannot take the credit,” said Mara. “The valor of the Anathgrimm has held the Frostborn back.” 

“It is our nature,” said one of the Anathgrimm standing near the dais. Gavin recognized Zhorlacht, who had tried to kill them in the Vale of Stone Death and Khald Azalar. Now he wore a black priest’s robe, albeit one cut to accommodate his armor and his bony spikes. “Our purpose is war, and we delight in it.” 

“Perhaps someday you can find a different purpose,” said Mara.

“Perhaps,” said Zhorlacht. He smiled behind his tusks. “Fortunately, that shall be many years off.”

“Queen Mara,” said Sir Ector. The leathery knight seemed uncomfortable with the lack of formality. “I bring you greetings from Prince Regent Arandar, and his thanks for your ongoing battles against the Frostborn. As soon as Tarlion is relieved of its siege and the usurper Tarrabus Carhaine defeated, he shall march to aid you.”

“I have no doubt,” said Mara. “Thank you, Sir Ector, for seeing the Keeper safely here.”

“I failed in my obligation,” said Ector.

“What do you mean?” said Mara.

“The Enlightened of Incariel laid a trap for the Keeper,” said Ector, “and we walked into it. If Lord Ridmark had not arrived with your warriors, we would have been slain and the Keeper taken hostage.”

“The Enlightened?” said Mara. 

“Caradog Lordac,” said Ridmark. 

Mara frowned. “I remember him.”

“Big blond oaf of a man,” said Jager, walking to join his wife. “Probably one of the Enlightened, as I recall.” 

“He was,” said Ridmark, his face as grim as it had been when he had hung Caradog. “Imaria realized that the Keeper would be vulnerable, and so Tarrabus dispatched Caradog to capture her.” 

“Then it is indeed well you went in search of her,” said Mara. “Thank you, Ridmark.” 

Ridmark inclined his head but said nothing. Gavin was surprised that he had not spent more time with Calliande during their journey to the Forest. She was obviously in love with him, and Ridmark had always seemed fond of her.

“I regret that I must ask this of you,” said Calliande, “but I have come to ask for your help.”

“Of course,” said Mara. 

Calliande stepped away from the men-at-arms, the end of her staff tapping against the ground. She drew herself up, and once again became less Calliande and more the Keeper of Andomhaim, just as she had when addressing the nobles of Uthanaric Pendragon’s court.

“The Anathgrimm have been fighting the Frostborn for the last year,” said Calliande, “and Prince Regent Arandar led the loyal men of Andomhaim against Tarrabus and the Enlightened. We have both won our victories. I am pleased to tell you that Castra Carhaine has fallen to the Prince’s army.” 

“Really?” said Jager. “That’s marvelous. I hope they drank Tarrabus’s wine and ate his food.”

Gavin laughed. “They did, actually.”

“Oh, splendid,” said Jager with a smile. “I only wish I had been there to relieve myself into his…”

“But this cannot continue,” said Calliande. “The Anathgrimm should not have to face the Frostborn alone.”

Old Qhazulak let out one of his rumbling growls. “We shall fight to the last warrior.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” said Calliande, “but you shouldn’t have to. We need allies. I was there the first time the Frostborn assailed our world. In the end, in the final battles, humans and orcs and dwarves and manetaurs marched together to defeat the Frostborn and drive them back to their world gate.” 

“Then you propose to seek allies,” said Mara.

“Yes,” said Calliande. 

Ridmark stirred a little but said nothing.

“Then the manetaurs and the dwarves have not come at your call?” said Mara.

“We sent letters,” said Calliande, “but they went unanswered. Likely they did not wish to involve themselves in the war between the false king Tarrabus and Prince Arandar.” 

Jager snorted. “Just as I thought. When the neighbors are quarreling, best to stay out of it.” 

“Aye,” said Calliande, “but as the neighbors quarrel, the Frostborn grow stronger. Now, right now, is our best chance to drive them back and close their world gate.”

“I have seen their fortifications at Dun Licinia,” said Qhazulak. “It would take a mighty host to breach them. The gathered army of Andomhaim and the Anathgrimm might do it, but only barely.” 

“And the Enlightened,” said Zhorlacht, “have made sure that Andomhaim is divided and cannot wage war against the Frostborn.” 

“Yes,” said Calliande. “We need help, and help is to be found among the dwarves and the manetaurs. Both know the danger of the Frostborn. The manetaurs love war as the Anathgrimm do. The dwarves are devoted to reason and dispassionate logic, and they will see the threat of the Frostborn.”