Frostborn: The False King (31 page)

“You’re going to kill him?” said Ridmark. 

“Obviously,” said Kurdulkar. “It is time for the Hunters to evolve and grow, to take their rightful place as gods of this world…”

“Tarrabus Carhaine might disagree,” said Ridmark. “The Frostborn, too.”

Kurdulkar laughed. “The Enlightened are a useful tool, but once a tool has achieved its purpose, it is discarded. As for the Frostborn…once I have transformed the Hunters into gods, we shall destroy the Frostborn. Or perhaps I shall permit them to live as useful slaves.”

“Madness,” said Ridmark. “You cannot defeat the Frostborn.”

“The words of a weakling human,” said Kurdulkar. 

“I have fought the Frostborn,” said Ridmark. “You haven’t. They are relentless, and after a defeat, they simply regroup and prepare a new strategy. They will wear you down mile by bloody mile, and unless you help us now, they will conquer the Reach.”

“The shadow of Incariel would give you the power to destroy your foes,” said Kurdulkar.

“The shadow of Incariel will destroy you, just as it destroyed Shadowbearer and the dark elves,” said Ridmark.

“You destroyed Shadowbearer, and the urdmordar devoured the dark elves,” said Kurdulkar. “They were both weak. The Hunters are not, and we shall become stronger still.” He shook his head, and the gesture was oddly similar to Curzonar and Turcontar both. “You are like my father. You are…obsolete.”

“Obsolete,” said Ridmark. Kurdulkar seemed to have a need to explain himself. If Ridmark could draw this out long enough for Calliande and the others to find him…

“You cling to old ways,” said Kurdulkar. “The Dominus Christus for the humans and the teachings of the arbiters for the Hunters Both hold us back. Without them, we can become gods. With them, we shall be destroyed by the other kindreds. I will not permit that to happen to the Hunters. We shall become gods, even if I have to drag my kindred into the future against their will.”  

“Then you will murder your father to achieve this,” said Ridmark.

“Yes,” said Kurdulkar. “It is necessary. He expects me to challenge him, but I cannot take that risk. Too much is at stake…and he favors that mewling fool Curzonar.” A flicker of hatred went through his voice. “If I am slain, all hope for the future dies. Therefore I shall kill both my father and Curzonar’s supporters in one heavy blow, without giving them the chance to fight back. Their sacrifice will pave the way to the future, to our ascension to divinity itself.” 

“That is insanity,” said Ridmark. “You will destroy yourselves. You’ll…”

“‘And the serpent said unto the woman,” said Kurdulkar, “ye shall not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.’” He smiled. “That is what you were going to say to me, was it not? Were you going to quote the scriptures at me? Perhaps humans are too weak to wield the power of the shadow of Incariel. The Hunters are not. Humans are fit only as slaves or prey.” 

“Lord Prince,” said Ralakahr. “We should go. If our other enemies were going to fall into the trap, they would have done so by now. The longer we linger, the more likely we are to be discovered.”

“Yes,” said Kurdulkar. “Yes, you are right. Prepare to depart the Labyrinth and return to Bastoth.” He turned his gaze back to Ridmark. “I’ve been very direct with you, haven’t I? I’m not sure why. I have been lying for so long about so many things that it was almost…refreshing to tell the truth to an enemy.”

“You should make certain you have not been lying to yourself,” said Ridmark. 

“I have not,” said Kurdulkar.

“Tymandain Shadowbearer lied to himself,” said Ridmark, “and look what happened to him.”

“Another fool who was unworthy of the mantle that the Hunters will claim,” said Kurdulkar. He looked at Ralakahr. “Kill him and we shall depart.”

Ralakahr growled with pleasure and strode towards Ridmark.

Kurdulkar might have been twisted by his dark vision, but he wasn’t a fool. He would simply kill Ridmark without fuss and continue with his plan. Tarrabus Carhaine might have saved himself a lot of trouble if he had done so at Coldinium and Dun Calpurnia. Ridmark couldn’t break free of the manetaurs holding his arms. He couldn’t reach any weapons, and even if he could, the manetaurs would have overwhelmed him in short order. He could do nothing to escape the manetaur khalath striding towards him.

Ridmark realized that he was about to die.

He expected to feel dread, but instead a strange calm came over him, a feeling almost like relief, even detachment. Had Morigna felt this way when Imaria and the Weaver had killed her?

Morigna…

An almost-memory, like a forgotten dream, flickered across Ridmark’s mind. 

Morigna had said something. Something important. But what?

Ralakahr drew back his hand, claws glittering on the end of his fingers as he prepared to tear out Ridmark’s throat. Ridmark remembered the Red King’s palace, remembered Curzonar and Kurdulkar glaring at each other with undisguised hatred. They were siblings, but they hated each other and were jealous of their father’s approval.

And suddenly Ridmark understood.

“Curzonar was right about you,” he said in a clear voice. “You are no longer Hunters.”

Ralakahr froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”

“You are no longer Hunters,” said Ridmark, meeting the towering manetaur’s gaze. “Curzonar was right about you.”

“A foolish choice for last words, dog,” snarled Ralakahr, “since you will choke on your own blood when I…”

“Hold,” said Kurdulkar. “What did you say?”

His voice was calm, but his eyes had narrowed, and his breathing was coming faster.

“He said,” said Ridmark, “that you had ceased to be Hunters, that you had become something worse and weaker.”

“You understand nothing of what it is to be a Hunter,” said Kurdulkar. 

“Perhaps not,” said Ridmark, “but I understand enough to see that Curzonar was right. You are no longer a Hunter. You’re not even prey. You’re something worse, some twisted freak like the urvaalgs and the ursaars…”

“You understand nothing,” said Kurdulkar, that strange, mad light in his golden eyes again. 

“Curzonar does,” said Ridmark, “and he said that you turned to the shadow of Incariel because you are too weak and too cowardly to run down prey with your own strength.”

The others manetaurs went motionless, like lions preparing to spring upon their prey. Ridmark had just delivered a deadly insult to Kurdulkar and his warriors. Among the manetaurs, that would almost always result in a mortal challenge. From an outsider, it was unforgivable. If Ridmark could draw this out long enough …

“You think yourself fit to judge a Hunter?” said Kurdulkar. 

“Tarrabus Carhaine turned to the shadow of Incariel to seize the throne of Andomhaim,” said Ridmark, “because he was too weak to take it with his strength. You are exactly the same, Kurdulkar, because you are the weakest get of your father. You cannot kill the Red King with your own power, and you are not even brave enough to face him, so instead you fled to the shadow of Incariel like a kitten running terrified to its…”

Kurdulkar threw back his head and roared, the sound deafening. For a moment Ridmark was sure that he had goaded the Prince too far, that Kurdulkar was about to rip him limb from limb.

Then Kurdulkar lowered his head, a cold, icy smile on his face, his eyes gleaming. 

“Curzonar is wrong,” he said. “You are wrong. It is not the Hunters who judge each other’s worthiness. Tell me, Gray Knight. Who is the truest judge of a Hunter’s worth?”

“Who?” said Ridmark.

“Why, the prey itself,” said Kurdulkar. “They decide. You presume to judge our worthiness as Hunters, Gray Knight? We shall give you the opportunity to decide for yourself.”

“Give me the honor, my lord Prince,” said Ralakahr. “Let me teach this worm the meaning of fear.”

“You shall have it, my friend,” said Kurdulkar. “Prepare him.”

Two other manetaurs strode forward. They had already taken Ridmark’s weapons, and now they pulled off his dark elven armor and his gray cloak, their claws slashing his clothes to shreds until he stood naked between the two manetaurs, their hands like iron shackles around his arms. 

“And you presume to judge us,” said Kurdulkar. “Look at you. No claws, no fangs, no fur, your skin as thin as paper.” He dragged a claw across the left side of Ridmark’s chest, drawing blood. “Without your armor and your weapons, we see you for the weak and useless monkey that you are. So.” He stepped back and licked Ridmark’s blood from his claw. “Prove us unworthy Hunters, prey.” 

“Hard to do that,” said Ridmark, “if you won’t let me go.” 

“I am going to kill you,” said Ralakahr, “and I will do it slowly. I will rip you open and feast on your innards and leave you alive to watch.”

“What are you waiting for, then?” said Ridmark. “Get on with it already.” 

Ralakahr smiled. “You will not be so defiant in a few moments.” 

“Ralakahr is going to hunt you down and kill you like the dog that you are,” said Kurdulkar. He gestured, and three other manetaur warriors stepped forward, bows in hand, and the two other manetaurs holding Ridmark released him. His armor and weapons lay in an untidy heap a dozen yards away, but they might as well have been in Nightmane Forest for all the good they did him. “Run into the Labyrinth. We are sporting, so you may have a head start of one minute. Then Ralakahr will run you down and rip you to pieces.”

Ridmark hesitated, trying to think of something to do. There was no way he could outrun a manetaur, and running into the maze of the Labyrinth would get him killed anyway.

“We shall depart for Bastoth to finish the plan,” said Kurdulkar. “Ralakahr, kill him quickly and then return. Oh, make sure to keep his head mostly intact. When the Keeper returns to Bastoth, I want to throw it at her. I want to see the expression on the troublesome bitch’s face when I do.”

“As you command, lord Prince,” said Ralakahr.

“And you, Ridmark Arban,” said Kurdulkar. “Run for your life. Run,” the manetaurs holding their bows took aim, “or stay here and die. Decide now.”

Ridmark couldn’t see any way out of this.

But if Kurdulkar was going to kill him, Ridmark would not give up his life without a fight.

He turned and sprinted for the entrance to the Labyrinth.

Chapter 18: Unarmed

Ridmark ran through the white stone arch, the walls rough and dotted with ghost mushrooms, the white stone cool and smooth beneath his feet. He didn’t think there were any traps in the tunnel, but it was too dark to tell, and he didn’t dare slow down enough to look. Any moment Ralakahr was coming for him, and even with his armor and weapons, Ridmark would have a hard time defeating a manetaur in battle.

Unarmed, naked, and alone, he had no chance.

His only hope was to find one of the traps the dark elves had enjoyed so much and lure Ralakahr into it. Of course, it was possible that Ralakahr and Kurdulkar had explored the Labyrinth and knew its dangers, that they were laughing to themselves as Ridmark ran to his death. 

But that was his only chance, so he ran faster, his feet slipping on the smooth white stone of the floor. 

Ahead he saw a pale red glow. The dark elves had enspelled crystals to glow with a crimson light, using them for illumination in their underground tunnels. Their kingdoms might have fallen long ago, but the crystals remained. Likely that meant Ridmark was about to enter into a large hall or gallery, and that was bad. Ralakahr would overtake him quickly in such an empty space. Ridmark needed a narrow corridor, someplace that Ralakahr could not follow him, someplace he could stop and think and tend to that stinging cut upon his chest and maybe even come up with a plan…

A thunderous roar rang out behind him, echoing through the tunnel. It was the hunting cry of a manetaur.

He cursed and ran faster, and sprinted into a vast open hall of white stone, crimson light shining from rough crystals placed at the apex of the vaulted ceiling. Six different archways led off from the hall, opening into wide, broad corridors. A balcony encircled the walls of the hall, rising a good forty feet over the top of Ridmark’s head. Once Ralakahr caught up to him, Ridmark was finished.

Except…

Some of the white tiles of the floor had symbols upon them. 

Ridmark thought that he recognized the symbols. He had visited dark elven ruins more than he cared to remember. Almost certainly there was an elaborate mechanical trap within the hall, probably beneath the floor. If he stepped upon the wrong symbol, the trap would trigger, and he would be dead. 

At least that would be a quicker death than what Ralakahr would do to him. 

In some of these trapped rooms, a specific symbol marked the path to safety. Ridmark saw that symbol repeated on dozens of tiles across the floor. Of course, it was possible the builders of the Labyrinth had changed the meanings of the symbols just for their own amusement. 

Ridmark risked a glance over his shoulder. Ralakahr was loping down the corridor after him. Unlike Ridmark, he still had his armor and weapons. For all of Kurdulkar’s fine talk about the superior strength and resilience of the manetaurs, it seemed that the Hunter was permitted advantages and the prey was not. 

Ralakahr’s hands blurred, his bow coming up, and Ridmark cursed and threw himself to the side. The arrow clipped him, opening a line of blood across his left thigh, and Ridmark stumbled as a jolt of burning pain went through his left leg. The manetaur khalath yanked another arrow from his quiver, and Ridmark was out of options. 

He threw himself onto the nearest tile with the sigil for safety.

A deep, metallic click went through the gallery.

Ralakahr loosed a triumphant snarl and raised his bow again, drawing back the string. 

The floor shifted beneath Ridmark’s feet, and suddenly he realized he wasn’t standing on a tile.

He was, in fact, standing on a pillar.

The pillar shot up beneath Ridmark’s feet, even as dozens more square pillars rose from the floor. Ralakahr roared again and loosed his bow, but the pillars were moving too fast. The arrow struck the edge of the pillar and rebounded, the fletching brushing Ridmark’s arm as it tumbled away. The pillar continued its rapid ascent, and Ridmark struggled to keep his balance, even as he feared the pillar would crush him against the ceiling.