The Malrag growled in response, and if Sykhana concentrated, she heard the creature's loathsome voice echoing inside her head.
-It is as you say, great master. Mazael Cravenlock has come south-
Ultorin shivered like an enraged animal.
-I escaped from the fight. Mazael Cravenlock has two hundred men with him. And more of the cursed Elderborn. Mazael gathers them to his side, and makes his way south, faster than we can pursue. He will reach Deepforest Keep before we do, will defend it from our host-
"I will crush him!" said Ultorin. "I will break him utterly, I will hear him scream and beg for mercy, and then, only then, will I kill him!"
-You will not-
Ultorin frowned at the Malrag, shocked. "What did you say?"
-You will not. Mazael Cravenlock could have been greater than you. Yet he has denied his power. Even so, he is still stronger than you, far stronger than a fool wielding stolen power even as it kills him-
Ultorin roared and brought the bloodsword crashing down. The Malrag collapsed to the earth, its skull a ruin of shattered bone and black blood. The bloodsword’s sigils flared, and Ultorin shivered as the blade drained the Malrag's life energy. Again Ultorin bellowed, and he leapt from the saddle, landing with light grace, despite his bulk.
The bloodsword and the stolen Malrag life forces were making him stronger and faster. It was, however, turning him into a ravening nightmare.
"Hold still!" said Ultorin, and the nearest Malrags went motionless. Ultorin stalked over and began butchering them one by one, his black armor splattered with blacker Malrag blood. A strange combination of ecstasy and agony filled his features.
Aldane wailed in Sykhana's arms.
Ultorin turned, glaring at Sykhana. His yellow-shot eyes fell upon Aldane, and a wide smile lit up his face.
He stepped forward, lifting the bloodsword.
"No," said Sykhana, snatching the poisoned dagger from her belt. "No. Stay back! Stay back!"
Ultorin grinned, eyes wide with madness, and stalked forward.
"Grand Master!"
Malavost's calm voice cracked like a whip. The wizard hurried past the ranks of Malrags, the hem of his long black coat whispering against the forest floor. Skaloban followed upon his skeletal carrier, ghostly green flames flickering around the joints. Ultorin blinked, confusion on his face.
"Grand Master," said Malavost, his tone soothing. "I congratulate you on your victory."
"Victory?" said Ultorin. "What victory? Do not speak in riddles!"
"Over the Elderborn, of course," said Malavost. "You must have slain them all, surely. Else why would you be slaying your own Malrags?"
For a moment Ultorin blinked in chagrin. Then the rage returned. "Mazael Cravenlock has come south! He has followed us, wizard!"
"And this is bad news?" said Malavost, raising his white eyebrows.
Again Ultorin seemed confused.
"You wished vengeance on him, did you not?" said Malavost. "And now he is close at hand. When our goals are achieved, when we have power beyond the wildest dreams of mortal man...you shall take your vengeance upon him. It will last for ten thousand years. And then the world shall be yours, Grand Master."
Ultorin nodded. "Yes. Yes. You are right. See to it."
He climbed back into his saddle and rode into the ranks of Malrags, the horse's black armor clanking.
For a moment Skaloban and Malavost stood in silence, the ranks of Malrags marching past them, Sykhana motionless upon her horse.
"He threatened the Vessel!" hissed Skaloban, pointing at Malavost. "He has gone utterly insane!"
"Quite right," said Malavost, unruffled. "I fear poor Ultorin's sanity has passed a tipping point. He has a month, perhaps, before he descends into raving madness. Or he transforms into something utterly inhuman and begins slaying everything in sight."
"What are you going to do about it?" said Sykhana. "He would have killed Aldane!" The thought of Aldane dying upon the bloodsword, his life force sucked into Ultorin's body, was hideous.
"Nothing at all," said Malavost, smiling. "In another month, Deepforest Keep will be destroyed, and the Vessel shall be immortal and invincible. Just as I promised you."
Chapter 21 - Deepforest Keep
Mazael and his men rode southeast.
After another week, the terrain grew hillier, the ground rockier. Great hills rose out of the earth, their crowns and sides dotted with weathered granite boulders. Yet the trees remained enormous, some of them standing higher than the hills themselves. The rocky ground forced Mazael and the others to dismount, to lead their horses along by foot. He cursed the delay. Every day Ultorin and his hordes drew closer to Deepforest Keep, to whatever powers and treasures lay hidden in the ruined temple atop Mount Tynagis.
To whatever fate they intended for Aldane.
Mazael pushed on as fast as he dared.
###
Of course, wooded hills made perfect terrain for an ambush.
Twice Athaelin’s and Sil Tarithyn’s Elderborn scouts found roving Malrag warbands making their way through the hills, converging in the direction of Deepforest Keep. The first time Mazael’s men plowed into the Malrags from behind, while the Elderborn sent volley after volley of arrows into the creatures.
He lost three men in that fight, with two more wounded.
The second time was easier. Romaria and Athaelin lured a band of three hundred Malrags into a narrow, dead-end gully. Mazael’s men prepared the gully beforehand, chopping down trees and piling rocks, and when the Malrags charged, the men unleashed avalanches, sealing the Malrags in the gully while Romaria and her father scrambled up ropes to safety.
After that, the Elderborn archers made short work of the trapped Malrags.
###
The next day, they found a band of Elderborn, from the Tribe of the Bear, fighting a losing battle against a Malrag warband. Mazael’s men attacked them from the flank, while the Elderborn loosed a storm of arrows, and Lucan and Circan unleashed conjured spirit beasts. The Malrags, taken by surprise, fell without inflicting a single loss upon Mazael’s men.
The Tribe of the Bear joined the Tribe of the Wolf, and Mazael found himself leading a hundred and fifty Elderborn south to Deepforest Keep.
He did not mind. The extra archers, no doubt, would come in handy.
They hastened south, and the ground grew ever hillier.
###
Two days after they rescued the Tribe of the Bear, Mazael saw Mount Tynagis for the first time.
“Mazael!” called Romaria, running down one of the slopes. Mazael turned, dropping Hauberk’s reins, and drawing Lion. But no flames erupted from the sword’s blue-tinted steel blade. There were no Malrags nearby.
And Romaria had a smile on her face.
“What is it?” said Mazael.
"Come look at this," said Romaria. "It will take just a moment."
Mazael shrugged, left Gerald in command of the column, and followed Romaria up the side of the stony hill. He was stronger than her, but she was more agile, and from time to time she had to stop and wait as he hauled himself over a boulder or around a jutting tree trunk.
"I hope," said Mazael, "this is worth the climb."
She grinned. "Trust me."
He kept following. The hill was large enough to rise above even the Great Southern Forest's massive oaks, and only a few scraggly trees marked its crown. Romaria led him to the top of the hill and pointed to the south.
"Look," she said. "Mount Tynagis."
And it was, Mazael admitted, an impressive sight.
The mountain rose out of the trees like an island jutting above a sea of green leaves. It was not a large mountain, no more than five thousand feet high, not tall enough for a crown of ice and snow. Yet he did see something white gleaming atop the mountain's crest, something white and jagged...
He squinted. "Is that..."
"Aye," said Romaria. "Those are the ruins of the High Elderborn, atop the mountain."
; Mazael stared for a long moment. The mountain was still three or four days' travel distant. He could just make out the faint white shape of walls and soaring arches atop the mountain, of towering buttresses and broad courtyards. To be visible at this distance, the temple had to be truly enormous.
"The High Elderborn," said Mazael, "must have been mighty builders."
"They were," said Romaria. "No one has set foot in that place for years beyond count. Yet still it stands."
"And whatever Ultorin and Malavost want," said Mazael, "it's in there."
Romaria's face hardened. "What they want, and what they shall not have."
Mazael gave her a tight smile. "Yes. We will stop them."
Her answering smile was just as hard. "You almost make me believe it."
"We have a fair chance," said Mazael, gazing at the distant mountain. "We cannot defeat one hundred and fifty thousand Malrags, true. But Ultorin is the key to everything. If we can slay him, or if we can destroy his bloodsword, then victory will be ours. And I can take him, Romaria. I've almost defeated him before. If I can get close enough, if I can get him away from any aid, I can slay him."
"Or I can just put an arrow through his eye," said Romaria.
Mazael snorted. "That will work too, I suppose."
She leaned forward and kissed him. "Whatever happens, Mazael...I am glad you are here with me. That I had a chance to show you my home."
Mazael nodded, took her hand.
"I love you," said Romaria.
"I love you, too," said Mazael.
They kissed once more and descended the hill to join the others.
###
The next day they encountered a band of a dozen Malrags.
The creatures tried to flee, but the Elderborn hunted them down and shot them without mercy.
"Scouts, most likely," said Athaelin, examining the bodies.
"That's good news, then," said Gerald.
"Why?" said Athaelin.
"Because," said Mazael, "these Malrags were likely scouting ahead of the larger warbands, or the main part of Ultorin's host. Which means that we're ahead of him, and we will reach Deepforest Keep before the Malrags."
But not, Mazael suspected, by very much.
They would reach Deepforest Keep no more than a day or two ahead of the Malrags.
###
"Almost home," said Athaelin, leading his horse over a root.
They traveled through the foothills around Mount Tynagis. The forests here were even thicker, the trees tall and massive, their gnarled trunks heavy with layers of moss. Only dim sunlight leaked through the overlapping canopies of leaves, and the Forest here seemed dim and cool and silent.
At least, Mazael thought, until the Malrags arrived.
"So desolate," said Rachel, steering her mount around a massive traig.
Athaelin looked back. "Desolate? A desert is desolate, my dear lady." He swept out a hand. "The Great Southern Forest is filled with life."
"Forgive me, my lord Athaelin," said Rachel. "It's just...we have traveled so very far, and seen no one else but Elderborn and Malrags. No other humans. And yet you said nine thousand people live at Deepforest Keep? How did so many people come to live in such a remote place?"
Romaria laughed.
"What?" said Rachel, annoyed. "I was only asking."
"Aye," said Romaria, "but Father loves to speak of Deepforest Keep's history. If you let him, he will talk until we cross Deepforest Keep's gates, and then perhaps some more."
"Pay no heed to these doubters," said Athaelin. "For you, my lady...I think you like stories, you like tales."
"I do," said Rachel, and Mazael smiled. When they had traveled to her wedding, she had listened raptly to Gerald's and Tobias's stories of Knightcastle's long history. "Though...I prefer the stories that have happy endings, my lord. My life has had too many sad tales, of late."
"Ah!" said Athaelin. "Then I'm pleased to oblige. For Deepforest Keep's tale is a glorious one, and it will have a happy ending, once we slay Ultorin, retrieve your son, and drive the Malrags back to their mountain holes. You know that the dragon kings of Old Dracaryl once ruled the Grim Marches?"
Rachel nodded.
"Then you know that Dracaryl fell in fire and blood," said Athaelin. "Many were slain. A few survived to found new towns and castles. Young Lucan's family, I believe, descended from old Dracaryl nobles." Lucan gave a slow nod. "But many others fled the horrors that plagued the Grim Marches. They escaped into the Great Southern Forest, hoping to find refuge on the other side of the mountains."
"How did they end up at Mount Tygnais?" said Rachel.
Athaelin laughed. "They got lost. They were starving and freezing, and hoped to take shelter in the ruins atop the mountain. At the very least, they thought, the ruins might keep them safe from the dark magic that had destroyed Dracaryl."
"But my people stopped them," said Sil Tarithyn, who had come over to listen. "The temple of Mount Tynagis is sacred to our gods, and we will not let it be defiled by the foot of man or Elderborn or San-keth or Malrag."
"It almost came to a fight," said Athaelin. "But the leader of the refugees was a wise man. He bore a shield of bronze and a diadem, both ancient, both magical, and his people called him the Greenshield. And the Greenshield in his wisdom made a pact with the High Druid of the Elderborn. The Elderborn would let the refugees settle upon the slopes of Mount Tynagis. And in exchange, the refugees would remain the friends and allies of the Elderborn, and forever guard the path to the sacred temple atop the mountain. And Deepforest Keep was born. To bind their pact, the Greenshield and the High Druid lay together as man and wife, to symbolize the union of their two peoples, and my ancestors raised the first stones of Deepforest Keeper. And the Greenshield became the Champion of the Deepforest Keep and Defender of the Mountain, a title that has been passed down from generation to generation to me."
“It is a good tale,” said Sil Tarithyn. “Only rarely have Elderborn and human been able to dwell together in peace. But here, in the shadows of Mount Tynagis, we have done so, and together we have defended the temple against all who would defile it. The Elderborn dwell in the forests, and the humans in Deepforest Keep and their farms.”
“Why did they lie together?” said Rachel. “The first Greenshield and the High Druid, I mean. Did they wed, to join their peoples together?”
“A ritual,” said Athaelin. “To symbolize the joining of human and Elderborn. It is now a tradition. Every new Champion of Deepforest Keep, upon taking up the Greenshield and his diadem, will lie once with the High Druid.”
Rachel frowned. “It seems a strange way to make an alliance.”
Athaelin shrugged. “Perhaps. But you wed Sir Gerald, did you not? And there is now peace between Lord Mazael and Lord Malden.”
“I hadn’t looked at it that way,” said Rachel. “When the Greenshield and the High Druid lie together, do children ever…” She looked at Romaria, and Mazael saw the understanding fill her eyes. “Oh.”
“Aye,” said Romaria. “Humans and Elderborn rarely lie together. It is…frowned upon. And when they do, only rarely are half-breed children born. The Elderborn do not approve of such children, of the mingling of the blood.” Her eyes grew distant. “Some of the Elderborn call such children abominations, and believe they should be left in the woods to die of exposure.”
“A folly,” said Mazael. “Your skill and cunning has saved my life, several times.”
“When I was young,” said Sil Tarithyn, “I thought much the same way. But now I am older, and have seen more of the world. A half-breed may be just as valorous as an Elderborn or a human.” His purple eyes shifted to Romaria. “Though her path may be harder.”
Romaria looked away.
###
They saw farms as they drew closer to Deepforest Keep, scattered here and there among the trees. Carved terraces climbed up the hillside, and Mazael saw that the men of Deepforest Keep grew wheat and olives and grapes there, or fruit in small orchards
. A traig stood by a wine press, its martial appearance strange against the peaceful look of the farm.
Yet every last farm was deserted. Some had been burned to the ground.
“Malrags’ work,” said Athaelin, looking at a burned farm, voice hard with anger. “They’ll pay for driving my people from their homes.”
They saw more and more farms, Mount Tynagis looming ever larger over them.
The next day, three weeks after leaving Castle Cravenlock, Mazael saw Deepforest Keep for the first time.
Demonsouled Omnibus One Page 103
