Ridmark didn’t say anything, watching the urshanes for any sign of an impending attack. The creatures seemed content to encircle them so far, likely because they knew the first urshane to attack would die.
“Or perhaps,” said the urshane, “you would prefer her?”
The creature’s body blurred and rippled. Morigna vanished, and in her place stood a perfect duplicate of Third, albeit one without any armor or clothing. She was lean and sinewy, yet nonetheless attractive, and a leering smile that had never appeared on the real Third’s face spread across the urshane’s features.
“I have seen things more terrible than you can imagine and war on a scale that would break your mind,” said Third in a cold voice. “Do you truly think to unsettle me with your illusions, little urshane? Come closer, and we shall see how your illusions fare against the reality of steel.”
Ridmark said nothing. The urshanes were trying to distract him, he knew, trying to hold his attention while they prepared a deadly attack.
What was the attack, though? It did seem odd that the Sculptor had sent urshanes against him. The urshanes were infiltrators, saboteurs, spies, and occasionally assassins. They were not melee fighters. Dark elves loved cruelty, and perhaps the Sculptor had been so amused by the thought of sending duplicates of Morigna and Aelia against him that it had overridden his better judgment.
But Ridmark didn’t think the Sculptor was that stupid.
“Sister, sister,” said one of the Aelia-urshanes to the urshane disguised as Morigna. “You do not understand our prey. He does not lust for the defective urdhracos. His flesh desires another.”
The urshane rippled and changed, her skin becoming paler, her hair going from black to blond, her eyes from green to blue, the shape of the muscles in her arms and legs becoming sharper, her body taller and narrower.
A naked duplicate of Calliande stood before Ridmark, smiling at him.
“This is what he really wants,” the urshane purred in a perfect imitation of Calliande’s voice, “and he is too guilt-ridden and fearful to claim what he wants, the poor deluded fool.”
Ridmark knew it was a trick, knew it was an illusion, but for a moment his mind was frozen, and he could not look away. A storm of conflicting emotions went through him. He wanted to beg forgiveness from Aelia and Morigna for failing to save them, from Aelia for falling in love with Morigna, from Aelia and Morigna for letting Calliande kiss him.
Maybe this was what hell would be like. To be surrounded by the images of those he had loved and failed, forever.
But through the emotions, one thought dominated.
The urshanes had known this would hit him hard, and so they had saved the illusion of Calliande for last.
Which meant that they wanted him distracted right now.
Ridmark turned in a circle, his gaze sweeping over the rooftop, and saw the ripples behind him.
“Urvaalgs!” he shouted, and Third whirled.
The ripples creeping across the roof vanished as the urvaalgs dropped their masking ability, and two of the creatures came into sight. They looked like the twisted hybrids of wolves and apes, black fur hanging from the muscular limbs in stringy ropes. Perhaps they really were hybrids of the two animals, fused together by the Sculptor’s dark alchemy.
The Sculptor had warned Ridmark, hadn’t he? He had boasted about his urvaalgs, proud of how long the creatures had endured as a plague upon the world.The urvaalgs bounded towards Ridmark, and the urshanes shrieked and charged.
Third charged the urvaalgs, and Ridmark attacked the urvaalg on the right as Third faced the creature on the left. The urvaalg reared up on its hind legs and leaped, jaws yawning wide, claws reaching for his throat. Ridmark ducked and swung his staff with both hands, the weapon hitting the urvaalg’s abdomen. The creature’s charge faltered, and Ridmark dodged as it fell to all fours, its rank, rotting smell filling his nostrils. He dropped his staff and snatched his dwarven axe from his belt, raised the weapon high, and buried the blade in the urvaalg’s skull.
The creature thrashed and went motionless.
Ridmark grabbed his staff and saw Third leap upon the second urvaalg’s back, her blades coming down and plunging into the back of its head. The creature went into a wild spasm, and the force of its death throes knocked Third from its back, one of her swords still buried in its head, the other grasped in her right hand.
The urshanes closed around her.
One of the urshanes came at Ridmark, Aelia’s face twisted in gleeful rage, the scorpion tail shooting towards him. He swept his staff before him, deflected the tail, and jumped over the dead urvaalg, rushing to Third’s aid. Three urshanes closed around her. She killed one with a slash of her sword as she jumped to her feet, but the other two drew back their stingers to strike.
Ridmark attacked, driving his staff against the nearest urshane. He hit it in the temple, and Aelia’s head jerked to the side. The urshane stumbled, and Ridmark struck it in the back of the legs. The creature fell, reverting to its true form as pain disrupted its concentration, and Ridmark killed it with another strike. Third slashed at the final urshane, opening a cut across Morigna’s ribs, black blood welling from the wound. The urshane hissed, and Ridmark landed a hit with his staff. Third darted past and seized her second sword from the dead urvaalg. Ridmark hit the urshane again, and Third killed it with a double stab of her blades.
He spun just as the remaining urshanes all came at him in a rush.
He dodged the stabbing strikes of two stingers and blocked a third with a jab of his staff. A fourth plunged into his left leg above the knee, and a fifth bit into the bicep of his right arm. Ridmark jerked away, trying to put some distance between him and the urshanes, and burning pain spread from the puncture wound and into his arm and leg.
Two stingers hit Third, and she let out a little cry of pain, ripping free.
They both retreated, weapons raised in guard. Ridmark felt his head starting to spin, felt a terrible burning from the stinger wounds. Third reeled on her feet, her chest heaving, her swords trembling in her grasp.
Urshane poison was deadly, and he knew they did not have much time before it overwhelmed them.
The copies of Aelia, Morigna, and Calliande laughed at him and closed for the kill.
Ridmark and Third fought for their lives.
###
Gavin walked with Kharlacht through the silent ruins of Thainkul Morzan.
“A grim place,” said Gavin, looking at the bones strewn across the alley between two narrow houses.
“Aye,” said Kharlacht. “It seems many battles have been fought here. It reminds me of the swamps near Moraime where we met Morigna. The relics of the dead are everywhere.” Gavin nodded. There had been barrows and burial mounds and ruins choking those swamps, haunted with the undead. Though Morigna’s treacherous mentor Coriolus had likely raised most of those undead.
Gavin thought of Morigna and felt a strange pang of melancholy. They had never gotten along particularly well, and she had always been ready with a barb or a mocking comment. If Gavin was honest with himself, he could not comprehend why Ridmark had chosen her instead of Calliande. Had Gavin been in his place, he would have chosen Calliande over Morigna without the slightest hesitation.
But Morigna had nevertheless been brave, and she had gone into Urd Morlemoch and Khald Azalar without flinching. Gavin wished she was with them now. Time and time again they could have used her skills against the Frostborn.
He shook his head, trying to dismiss the melancholy.
“Let us ascend to the highest tier,” said Kharlacht. “I doubt we shall find anything there, but it is best to be thorough. Then we can rejoin the others…”
He fell silent, frowning, and Gavin followed his gaze.
Kharlacht was looking at the other side of the cavern. On the highest tier, Gavin saw Ridmark and Third appear atop the roof of one of the intact houses, so far away they seemed tiny. Pale figures moved around them, and…
“They are under
attack!” said Kharlacht. “Hasten!”
Gavin nodded and followed Kharlacht as he ran for the stairs, hurrying down the tiers to a stone bridge over the stream. With Truthseeker’s power, Gavin could have outrun Kharlacht, but he kept pace with the orcish warrior. Charging alone through the ruins would likely be fatal.
They reached the bridge and hurried over it. Gavin glanced up and saw Ridmark and Third battling the pale figures.
Gavin frowned. “Are those…naked people?”
“Aye,” said Kharlacht. “Something strange is happening. Keep that soulblade ready. Dark magic may be among us.”
They ran up the stairs. Gavin and Kharlacht reached the second-highest tier, and Gavin heard fighting coming from the top of the cavern, along with a strange screeching wail that he had heard somewhere before …
Then a woman stepped on the stairs before them, and Gavin froze in astonishment.
She wore absolutely nothing at all, her body pale and lean, her black hair bound in a braid that swayed from the back of her head. Her dark eyes fell upon Gavin, and she smiled, and a mixture of shock and unbidden lust shot through Gavin’s mind.
It was Morigna. No, that was impossible, she was dead, he had seen her corpse at Dun Licinia…
“Gavin,” purred Morigna, “it has been such a long time. Do…”
Truthseeker jolted in Gavin’s hand, the blade crackling with white fire, and suddenly Gavin remembered where he had heard that screeching cry before.
He shared a look with Kharlacht.
“Urshane,” they said in unison.
“Oh,” sighed Morigna. “Is this form not enough for you, my brave young Swordbearer? Perhaps you would find another more desirable?”
She gestured, and her body blurred, taking the shape of another woman.
This woman was beautiful, so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her, her skin clear and flawless, her limbs rounded and smooth, and it took every bit of self-control Gavin possessed not to stare at her breasts. Her curly black hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled as she stared at Gavin. The red lips curved into a smile that sent a searing wave of heat through him.
For a moment, he did not know her, and then the recognition struck.
This was Antenora. Or Antenora as she had been before she had forgotten her name, before she had been cursed.
“She can never be like this for you, Sir Gavin,” said Antenora, “but I can.” The voice had lost its weary rasp and was full of life and energy. “Come to me and I shall…”
He surged forward, calling on Truthseeker to fill him with strength and power. Antenora’s blue eyes just had time to widen, and Gavin brought the blazing soulblade crashing down upon the crown of her head. For an instant agony filled Antenora’s expression, and guilt stabbed Gavin through the heart. Then the urshane reverted to its true appearance, and rage and revulsion filled Gavin.
He kicked the dead creature off his sword, and it sprawled motionless on the steps. Kharlacht reached him by then, greatsword ready.
“I hate urshanes,” Gavin heard himself say.
“That woman,” said Kharlacht. “Someone you knew? I did not recognize her.”
Gavin shook his head. “Ridmark and Third need our help.”
They ran up the stairs and onto the main street of the highest tier.
A half-dozen urshanes awaited them. Three of the creatures were duplicates of Morigna, and three were of a green-eyed woman Gavin did not recognize. Aelia Licinius, perhaps? She looked a great deal like Imaria Licinius, at least as Imaria had looked before she had been twisted into the new Shadowbearer.
There were no games this time. As one, both sets of urshanes charged, scorpion tails appearing over their shoulders, claws sprouting from their fingers.
Gavin sprinted to meet them, Truthseeker’s power blazing through him. Two stingers jabbed towards his face, and Gavin caught them upon his shield, the poisoned barbs rebounding from the dwarven steel. He answered, dealing a fatal blow to one of the urshanes, Truthseeker crunching into its neck. The second urshane came at him, and Gavin caught its claws upon his shield and shoved, using his soulblade to fuel a burst of strength. His shield hammered past the urshane’s guard and struck the creature in the face. A head that looked exactly like Morigna’s snapped back and Gavin plunged Truthseeker between its ribs, killing the creature.
He turned just in time to see Kharlacht finish off one of the urshanes. He had already taken the creature’s right arm, and his greatsword swept around, shearing through its neck like an axe through a twig. The remaining three urshanes came at him, and Kharlacht retreated. Gavin rushed to his side, and caught the urshanes’ attacks on his shield, driving them back with quick thrusts from Truthseeker. Kharlacht seized the opening and attacked, killing another urshane.
A few moments later the battle was done, the urshanes lying crumpled at their feet. The creatures had reverted to their true forms, black scales glinting in the dim light.
“We must hurry,” said Kharlacht. Gavin nodded and ran after him.
###
Ridmark fought with fury.
He had dropped his staff, and retrieved his axe, wielding it with two hands. With the poison already in his blood, there was no reason to defend himself from their stingers, and he accepted more of the poisoned barbs in his flesh in exchange for landing blows with his axe. He had killed five of the urshanes before they realized the danger, and now they tried to encircle him, lashing at him with their claws. He managed to keep his head and throat out of their reach, and his armor protected his chest and back, but again and again the claws raked his arms and legs.
It was getting hard to hold the axe. The handle was becoming slippery with blood and the black ichor that pulsed through the veins of the urshanes.
Third had fallen on her face. No blow had felled her, but Ridmark suspected the poison had overwhelmed her. She was lighter than he was, and the venom would do its work more quickly. Ridmark stood in front of her, fighting to keep the urshanes from reaching her.
They would kill her in front of him, just to spite him. The urshanes had inherited their dark elven masters’ love of cruelty. Ridmark had to win free, had to reach the others. He had to make sure either he or Third survived to warn Calliande.
He drove his axe into Aelia’s face, and an instant later the urshane assumed its true form in death, collapsing to join the others on the rooftop.
“Come on!” screamed Ridmark, waving his black-dripping axe before him. His head spun, and his vision had taken a strange, distorted blur. “Come on! Who’s next? You want to throw my failures in my face? Come and do it!”
Ridmark realized that he was ranting at himself.
There were no urshanes left. The creatures lay scattered across the rooftop, bleeding from sword and axe wounds.
Ridmark and Third had killed them all.
He hadn’t expected that.
Third, he had to help Third.
He went to one knee next to her, intending to lift her. Then his legs buckled, and Ridmark fell upon his side, Thainkul Morzan spinning around him.
He knew no more after that.
Chapter 16: Escape
“The spell prevents the revenants from using their touch to kill,” said Calliande. “Otherwise, the cold magic infusing the revenants’ flesh allows them to kill with a single touch, freezing the blood of their victims in their veins. We lost many men to their power at Dun Licinia, but fortunately, I was able to work a countermeasure at Dun Calpurnia with the aid of my apprentice.”
“I see,” said King Axazamar.
Calliande and the old king walked through the Armory of the Kings, the taalkrazdors towering over them like silent bronze statues. As ever, Antenora followed behind her, a silent, watchful shadow. Or she would have been a shadow, had the symbols carved into her staff not occasionally flickered with fire. The king’s personal guard of Taalmaks walked after them. They were the equivalent of the household knights of a lord of Andomhaim, fed f
rom the king’s own table and armed from the king’s own forges, and their armor and weapons were inlaid with dwarven glyphs of gold and silver that shone with power to Calliande’s Sight. Of course, the titans themselves blazed with arcane power, but they were nothing compared to the web of magic surrounding the Stone Heart itself. The dark elves might have left the giant soulstone behind, but the dwarven stonescribes had made good use of the ancient relic, using its power to augment their defensive glyphs and wards. It was part of the reason that Khald Tormen had never fallen to any foe.
It was also the reason Calliande had to keep a careful rein on the use of her Sight within the walls of Khald Tormen. The vast power of the Stone Heart could overwhelm her, just as the vortex of dark magic around Imaria’s gate had nearly overwhelmed her Sight. If she delved too deep into the Sight, she saw the vast array of warding glyphs surrounding Khald Tormen, layers upon layers of them laid down over the millennia. The first city of the dwarves might be the last fortress resisting the Frostborn if the war went ill.
But if they did not close the gate, the Frostborn would conquer even Khald Tormen, which was why Calliande needed to convince King Axazamar to aid them.
Fortunately, he seemed more than willing to help Calliande and the Anathgrimm and the manetaurs. If not for the threat of the Sculptor, likely the dwarves would have marched to war already. If Ridmark and Narzaxar were successful and fortified Thainkul Morzan, Calliande could return to Queen Mara and King Turcontar with the armies of three dwarven kingdoms behind her.
If Ridmark returned alive.
Her hand twitched, wanting to grasp the handle of the dagger at her belt, the dagger Ridmark had given her outside of Dun Licinia. Calliande had cast the tracing spell both mornings since Ridmark left, and both times he had still been alive. She permitted herself to cast the spell only once a day. Calliande could not help Ridmark, and he knew how to take care of himself.
Though whenever she thought that, she remembered the reckless things he had done but somehow survived.
Frostborn: The Dwarven Prince (Frostborn #12) Page 22
