Frostborn: The False King (23 page)

“I am pleased to return, honored arbiter,” said Ector.

“You know the laws of the Hunters,” said Tazemazar, “but your companions might not, so I shall speak for their benefit. The walls divide the city into nine quarters. The western gate opens into the Outland Quarter, and that is the only place within the walls where humans are permitted to walk freely. If you venture anywhere else within the city without an escort of Hunters or tygrai, you may be attacked and eaten, and this is permitted by the laws of the Hunters.” 

“Rough place,” said Kharlacht in a low voice. 

“Imryr Zothal,” said Tazemazar. “Take Sir Ector and his men to the Inn of the River. Arrange rooms for them under my authority. My lady Keeper and my lord magister, I ask that you and your companions accompany me. There is someone we must approach before you can speak with the Red King.” 

“Very well,” said Calliande.

“Let us hasten,” said Tazemazar. “The shadows grow long while the prey escapes our claws.” Ridmark wondered if that was a proverb among the manetaurs, but Tazemazar did have a turn for the poetic.

They rode for the western gate of Bastoth, heading towards the towering stone arch of the gate itself. Eight manetaurs in elaborate chain mail and plate stood guard, massive spears in hand and shields upon their arms, their eyes watching as Ridmark and the others rode past. Ridmark suspected they would have questioned Sir Ector’s men, but with Tazemazar’s presence, they passed without challenge. 

The gate opened into a vast market square, flanked on three sides by shops and taverns. Some of the buildings had the solemn, blocky look of manetaur architecture, while others looked human and orcish. An array of humans and Mhorluuskan orcs operated stalls in the market, while humans and orcs and dwarves and halflings perused the goods on display. The halflings were more gaunt and pale than those from Andomhaim, clad in leather and amulets of bones, their hair sculpted in wild designs. Ridmark knew that tribes of nomadic halflings lived in the eastern portions of the Reach, and regarded their more settled kin in Andomhaim with vicious contempt. 

“There, Sir Ector,” said Tazemazar, pointing a three-story building of brick with a roof of red tiles. “The Inn of the River is there. Imryr Zothal, see that the knight and his men-at-arms receive lodgings.” Zothal offered a bow to the arbiter. “Keeper, lord magister, this way, please.”

Calliande nodded and dropped from her saddle, handing the reins to one of Ector’s men.

“Kharlacht, Caius, Gavin, Antenora, Camorak, and Third,” said Ridmark. “Come with us, please.” He suspected that Antenora and Gavin would have followed Calliande no matter what anyone said, and Third would have followed him anyway.

The others dismounted from their horses, handing them over to Ector’s men. Ridmark, Calliande, Kharlacht, Caius, Gavin, Antenora, Camorak, and Third followed Tazemazar as the old arbiter limped away from the market and to a narrow street lined by red houses of manetaur construction. Tygrai filled the streets, and they bowed to Tazemazar as he passed. 

At last, the arbiter paused before a house. Unlike the other houses, two tygrai spearmen stood guard, their cuirasses gleaming in the afternoon sun. 

“Honored arbiter,” said one of the tygrai. 

“Warriors,” said Tazemazar. “Is she here?”

Ridmark glanced at Calliande, but she shrugged. 

“She is,” said the tygrai. “She awaits you within.” The tygrai opened the door, bowed, and stepped to the side.

“Come,” said Tazemazar, beckoning with his staff. 

He climbed the stairs with a grunt and strode the door, his claws clicking against the marble floor, and Ridmark and the others followed him. They passed through the anteroom and into a large, grassy courtyard, the afternoon sun blazing overhead. A large flat rock rested in the center of the courtyard.

Atop the flat boulder sat a female manetaur, sunning herself in the heat.

Ridmark had not yet seen a manetaur woman. She had no mane, and the human-like portion of her torso had breasts, though they were concealed beneath a band of purple silk. The manetaur woman wore jewelry – bracelets and torques upon her arms, anklets above her paws, and a slender diadem of red gold upon her head. Three tygrai women stood near the boulder, likely the manetaur woman’s attendants.

The manetaur woman shifted as Tazemazar approached, her motions stiff. It was hard to tell the age of a manetaur, but to judge from the stiff motions and the grayish-white streaks in her fur, Ridmark suspected she was old. 

“The arbiter Tazemazar,” said the manetaur female in Latin. Her voice was higher than a male manetaur’s, but still a low, growling purr. “You have returned.” 

“I have,” said Tazemazar, pausing for a bow. “This is the First Queen Raszema, consort of the High King Turcontar and mother of the Prince of the Range Curzonar. First Queen, I wish to present Calliande, Keeper of Andomhaim, and Ridmark of the Arbanii, Magister Militum of Nightmane Forest. Both have come as ambassadors to the court of the Red King in the name of Queen Mara of Nightmane Forest.”

“Indeed?” said Raszema. “Then the arbiters’ foretelling proved true, and the Keeper of Andomhaim has returned to the waking world?”

“It is so, First Queen,” said Tazemazar.

Raszema’s golden eyes shifted to Ridmark and Calliande. “Come closer and let me smell you. Oh, there’s no need to fear. I am too old and feeble to present a threat.”

Looking at the muscle still on Raszema’s aging frame, Ridmark doubted that. 

Yet he did not think she would threaten them. Suddenly he was put in mind of an elderly noblewoman sitting in her domus, attended by her servants, old enough to indulge in eccentricity without social censure…but nonetheless at the center of a formidable web of influential relationships. Ridmark knew that the manetaur females often negotiated while their males fought, and he suspected the First Queen of the Red King possessed far more influence than apparent on the surface.

Calliande realized it, too. Her face had settled into the serene expression of the Keeper of Andomhaim. 

“Ah,” said Raszema, still looking at Ridmark. “Do you see it, honored arbiter? He realizes the truth. Always thinking, this human male, just as my son Curzonar said. Though I hope he does not think too much. Males are for killing, fighting, and fathering children, and thinking too much hampers all three. Or so it is among the Hunters. Whether it is so among the humans, I cannot say.”

“I have done two of those three, First Queen,” said Ridmark. “So I cannot attest to its truth among humans.”

Raszema let out the growling manetaur laugh. “Let me smell you. At my age, it is so rare to encounter something I have not smelled before.” 

Ridmark walked forward and stopped before the stone, Calliande next to him. Raszema rose upon her legs, towering over them, and stooped over Ridmark’s extended hand. She sniffed it once and then moved to Calliande. Evidently her smell was more intriguing because she sniffed it four times before straightening up. 

“It is as you and the other arbiters have said, Tazemazar,” said Raszema, settling back upon the sun-warmed boulder. Ridmark noted the faint quiver that went through her hind legs as she settled back down. “We have lived long enough to reach strange times. A world gate opened, the Traveler thrown down…and the Frostborn returned.” Her golden eyes moved to Third. “Come here please, if you would. I can smell you from over here.”

Third looked at Ridmark, and he nodded. She stepped forward, disappeared in a swirl of blue flame, and reappeared an instant later next to Ridmark. The tygrai women let out mewling hisses and stepped back, but Raszema only laughed. 

“Indeed!” she said. “Something else I have never seen nor smelled before! Two wonders in one day. You are Queen Mara’s sister, yes?”

“This is so,” said Third. 

“The urdhracos who is no longer an urdhracos,” said Raszema. 

“In all the history recorded by the arbiters,” said Tazemazar, “such a thing has never been encountered.”

“The Warden of Urd Morlemoch did not understand Queen Mara,” said Calliande, “and neither did the Traveler. Thus we were able to escape Urd Morlemoch and Mara was able to slay the Traveler.” 

“Strange times,” said Raszema, settling herself upon the stone. “I have not spoken to a human older than myself in a long time. But you have not come all this way to amuse an old Huntress. No, the Keeper of old was ever filled with dire purpose…and since you are that Keeper, I assume you still have that purpose.” 

“I have,” said Calliande. “Lord Ridmark and I have come as ambassadors of Queen Mara. Her warriors fight against the Frostborn in the Northerland, and she seeks alliance from the Red King against the Frostborn.”

“Queen Mara?” said Raszema. “Why does the High King himself not call for aid? Of old the Red King fought alongside him against the Frostborn.”

“Arandar Pendragon is the lawful High King of Andomhaim,” said Calliande. “Unfortunately, Tarrabus Carhaine and his followers are attempting to usurp the throne. Until they are defeated and Arandar is crowned in Tarlion, I imagine the Red King would not wish to involve the manetaurs in Andomhaim’s civil war.”

“You imagine correctly,” said Raszema, a dry note entering her voice. “Yet why should the Hunters march to war against the Frostborn? The Frostborn have assailed Andomhaim and Nightmane Forest. Let the High King and Queen Mara overcome them.” 

“Because we will lose,” said Calliande. “The Frostborn are a mighty foe. Last time it took the combined strength of Andomhaim and the Red King and the Three Kingdoms of the dwarves and the Dragon Knight to defeat them. Now the true heir to the High King’s throne fights usurpers and wicked cultists, and the Anathgrimm fight alone against the Frostborn. Sooner or later they will be overwhelmed, and once the Frostborn have conquered Nightmane Forest and Andomhaim, they will come for the Range. They will not stop until the entire world has been conquered, and our only hope is to stop them now and close their world gate. First Queen, I fear if you do not join us, inevitably the manetaurs shall be destroyed or enslaved by the Frostborn.”

It was a good speech. Ridmark wondered if she had practiced it during their journey here. 

“Her words are true, First Queen,” said Tazemazar. 

“I know they are, arbiter,” said Raszema, considering the Keeper. “She speaks what she believes to be the truth. A more pertinent question is whether or not she is right.”

“She is,” said Ridmark. “I have seen the Frostborn and fought against them. Had our luck been a little worse, they would have conquered Andomhaim by now.” As much as he regretted what had happened, it was good to remember that things could have been worse. “Once they finish with us, they will come for the manetaurs. Therefore the time to act is now. Make an alliance with Queen Mara, and help us drive the Frostborn back to their world gate.” 

For a moment the First Queen considered them with her brilliant golden eyes. 

“There is no need to convince me,” said Raszema. “I knew what had to be done when the news came of Uthanaric’s death. The Hunters must rouse themselves and march to war against the Frostborn. If we do not, we shall either be slain or made slaves ourselves.”

“But I fear you are not the one we must convince,” said Calliande.

“No, Keeper,” said Raszema. “It is worse than that. You must first save the Hunters before you can convince us.” 

“Save you?” said Calliande, puzzled, and then she nodded. “From the shadow that Kurdulkar has chosen to serve.”

“You perceive keenly,” said Raszema. 

“Then you do not approve of what Kurdulkar has done?” said Ridmark.

“Not in the slightest.” Her expression twisted with contempt. “His mother was mad, but the Red King was taken with her beauty, and when the heat came upon her they lay together and she bore him a son. But even then, it was said that she was fascinated with dark things, that the bearer of shadow visited her in secret. She passed her obsessions to Kurdulkar. He acted in all ways as a Red Prince ought to act, a fine Hunter and a bold warrior, but he was obsessed with the shadow as his mother had been. He spoke with the bearer of shadow, and after that Kurdulkar began to gather Hunters about himself who agreed with his views.”

“And what are his views?” said Ridmark, wondering what the manetaur version of the Enlightened of Incariel taught.

“That the Hunters must become stronger,” said Raszema. “We are already strong. We rebelled from the dark elves of our own will and founded our own kingdom. The dvargir and the orcs and the dark elves and the urdmordar have all tried to conquer us, and we repulsed them. Even your own High King chose to make an alliance with the Hunters rather than force us to submit. Yet all this is not enough for Kurdulkar. Rather than the masters of the Range, he wants us to become the masters of the world, with all other kindreds as our slaves and prey.”

“You do not approve?” said Calliande.

“It is folly,” said Raszema. “We are the Hunters. We are not gods, and it is madness for us to attempt to become gods. I have heard the words of your priests as they preach. ‘Ye shall be as gods.’ Is that not what the serpent said to your distant ancestors in the deeps of time?”

“It is,” said Ridmark, impressed at her knowledge. 

“Perhaps your kindred would have been as the high elves, immortal and powerful, but instead, your ancestors listened to the serpent,” said Raszema. “You sought to become as gods, and so became mortal and frail. The Hunters are already mortal, and enjoy blood spilled in battle. What shall happen to us if we stride upon the path of destruction and attempt to become gods? If that is not warning enough, we have but to look to our own history. The dark elves wielded the shadow of Incariel, and they sought to rule the world. What became of them? The kingdoms are dust and those who survive hide in lonely places or skulk in little fortresses. No, this is not a path for the Hunters.”

“The arbiters agree with the First Queen,” said Tazemazar, “but Kurdulkar has much support among the younger Hunters, and I fear that the Red King’s stamina is not what it once was. He has allowed this debate to drag on for far too long. He should have killed Kurdulkar in challenge months ago.”