His eyes strayed to the shadow of Cathair Solas as it floated overhead, moving ever closer to Tarlion.
Had the high elves and Ardrhythain thought the same when they created the Final Defense?
“What next?” said Calliande.
The revenants might have been destroyed, but the medvarth and the locusari continued their advance. Ridmark also glimpsed cogitaers floating among the medvarth warriors, already preparing spells. The arbiters and the stonescribes would have heavy work before them, as would the high elves.
“Back to Axazamar,” said Ridmark. “We can see the battle from there, and then decide where to strike.”
“Perhaps we should make for Tarlion,” said Third. “Imaria Shadowbearer will be heading for the Well.”
“She will,” said Ridmark, “but not until she’s sure it’s safe. If even one Swordbearer catches her by surprise, she’s dead. She won’t take any unnecessary risks, not when she’s so close. Once she reveals herself, we’ll stop her.”
“You won’t,” said Calliande, “you won’t take any unnecessary risks?” It was a foolish question, but she had to ask it. He had almost gotten himself killed trying to avenge Morigna at Dun Licinia on the day that the world gate had opened, and she feared he might try to do it again.
But he only shook his head. “No. Not this time. I have an obligation to you to come back alive.”
Despite the seriousness of the impending battle, Calliande felt herself smile. “I’m glad you think that.”
“Come,” said Ridmark, and he opened the gate once more.
They stepped through it and returned to the side of Axazamar and his guards and nobles. The nobles and the guards were murmuring to each other, and even the stoic dwarves seemed stunned. Ridmark had told them what the power of the sword could do, but hearing it and seeing were two different things.
“That was quick,” said Caius.
“By the gods of stone and silence,” said Narzaxar, blinking. “How many revenants did you just destroy in a single instant? Thousands? Tens of thousands?”
“However many I destroyed,” said Ridmark, “your taalkrazdors will have to face fewer enemies when they attack the Frostborn lines.”
Calliande looked around and saw that Turcontar and the other manetaurs had gone. Likely the Red King and his adad-khalath had gone to take command of the charge. The medvarth fought with rage and ferocity, but against the manetaurs, they would face an opponent that fought with just as much rage.
“Could you burn their entire host at once, Dragon Knight?” said Axazamar. “That would save us much trouble.”
“No,” said Ridmark. “No, the revenants are vulnerable to the sword’s power because they’re undead. Living creatures, even creatures like the Frostborn, are more resistant.” He gestured with the sword. “There are other things I can do…”
As one, every stonescribe accompanying Axazamar looked down, examining either batons or tablets of dwarven steel. Calliande saw the glyphs on their tablets and batons flare with magical power, power that rose in response to the storm of cold magic whirling around the army to the south.
“King Axazamar!” said one of the stonescribes. “The enemy prepares a magical attack against us.”
“Signal to the vanguard,” said Axazamar. “They are to deploy a shield wall. The stonescribes have marked the shields of the vanguard warriors with glyphs of warding, and that should deflect…”
More magical power blazed overhead, radiating from some of the griffin riders circling Cathair Solas.
“That may not be necessary,” said Calliande.
Axazamar gave the signal anyway, and the vanguard warriors took up a shield wall formation, continuing their slow march towards the host of the Frostborn. The spell of the Frostborn gathered, growing strong enough that Calliande saw it with her eyes of flesh, a whirling wall of cloud like a miniature blizzard that would rain volleys of jagged ice shards the size of ballista bolts upon the advancing dwarves and tygrai.
The Frostborn unleashed their spell, and then the high elven magi called their own powers. Thousands of glittering ice shards hurtled towards the army, but a shimmering wall of translucent golden light sprang out of nothingness, a wall nearly a hundred yards high and three miles wide. The rain of icy shards struck the wall and shattered into nothingness. Both the warding spell and the magical storm of ice winked out of existence, the contesting powers canceling each other out.
“The high elves are indeed useful allies,” said Axazamar. “That…”
A thunderous roar rang from the left, and Calliande turned her head. Nearly a mile away she saw the tide of the manetaurs surge forward, thousands of them charging towards the lines of the medvarth.
“That is the sign,” said Narzaxar. “Now!”
The taalmaks of Axazamar’s guard sounded their drums. There was no answering roar, but the ground vibrated as a thousand taalkrazdors charged from the right wing of the army like a tide of steel. Watching Ridmark use one taalkrazdor in his battle against the Weaver in the Stone Heart had been terrifying. Watching a thousand of the magical weapons charge into battle at once was beyond description. Even standing a mile away, so far away that the towering suits of magical armor looked like toys, it was a stunning sight. To Calliande’s Sight, the taalkrazdors blazed with magical power…as did the hundreds of Frostborn warriors rushing to meet them, their powers joined in a spell.
“The Frostborn themselves are going to intercept the taalkrazdors,” said Calliande.
“Then I know where I need to be,” said Ridmark. “Wait here.”
Before she could answer, he opened a gate, walked through it, and vanished, the gate closing behind him.
###
Ridmark stepped through the gate and lifted Caledhmaer.
Hundreds of Frostborn stood before him, their eyes burning with white fire, their skin like frozen crystal beneath their dull gray armor. One rank of the Frostborn stood in the front, their massive greatswords in their armored hands and swirling with freezing mist. The rest stood back, joining together their powers in an immense spell to direct at the charging taalkrazdors. Ridmark knew firsthand the great power of the taalkrazdors, and he knew the mighty suits of armor could withstand a tremendous amount of damage. But if anyone could deal a tremendous amount of damage, it would be the Frostborn.
As one nearly twenty Frostborn warriors turned towards him, raising their greatswords to cut him down even as the taalkrazdors drew near.
Ridmark lifted Caledhmaer and called on the sword’s power to stop time.
The world went blurry, and the Frostborn froze. As Ridmark had hoped, none of the Frostborn had the unique bracers that Arlmagnava and her men had carried during the ambush. Caledhmaer shivered in his grasp, the sword’s fire flickering. Ridmark did not understand how the sword’s power to stop time worked, but he suspected that stopping time in the presence of powerful magic proved a greater strain than it would otherwise. Between the Frostborn, the taalkrazdors, and the high elves, the battlefield outside of Tarlion was saturated by powerful magic.
He had to hurry.
Ridmark raced forward, slashing with the sword. At first, he focused on the Frostborn swordsmen, trying to shatter their line of defense. Then he attacked the Frostborn casting the spell, stabbing and hacking with Caledhmaer. The sword shuddered with the strain in his grasp, and he knew that soon the power would end, that the flow of time would resume around him.
Just a little more…
Ridmark nodded to himself, stepped back, and sprinted as fast as he could.
About ten seconds later, time sped up again. In that instant fire exploded through the Frostborn he had attacked, killing them. The sword’s furious magic seemed antithetical to the cold power of the Frostborn, and it ripped through the Frostborn he had wounded and left them dead.
For a moment, confusion went through the Frostborn, and that confusion was all the time the taalkrazdors needed to close the gap. Ridmark dodged to the left as a massive taalkrazdor
charged past him, the magical armor running with the speed of a charging horse, and the taalkrazdors smashed into the Frostborn.
The sound of it was colossal, as if the heavens themselves had ripped open. Ridmark saw a taalkrazdor go down, a Frostborn greatsword ripping through the cuirass to kill the dwarven warrior within the armor. But he saw several more Frostborn perish, heads struck from their heads with swords taller than a man or crushed beneath fists of dwarven steel.
He didn’t stay. Just as Caius could not fight alongside the Dragon Knight and the Keeper, so could the Dragon Knight not fight in the middle of a battle between the Frostborn and the taalkrazdors.
He opened another gate and stepped through it.
###
“Ridmark!” said Calliande, and several things happened at once.
He disappeared through the gate, and about three seconds later fire flashed through the front ranks of the Frostborn warriors gathered to face the taalkrazdors. A second after that the taalkrazdors smashed into the Frostborn. The dwarves had the better of the exchange, and the magical weapons surged forward, tearing into the Frostborn.
A second after that, another gate opened a few paces away, and Ridmark stepped out, breathing hard.
“What did you do?” said Calliande.
“Softened up the Frostborn for the taalkrazdors,” he said. The taalkrazdors continued their relentless charge, hammering into the Frostborn and driving them back. On the left, the manetaurs had reached the medvarth, great wedges of the Hunters hammering into the enemy warriors. Even as they tried to fight off the newcomers, the Frostborn continued their assault on the walls of Tarlion, medvarth and locusari charging the gate and medvarth warriors swarming up the intact siege towers. Perhaps the Frostborn sought to use the city as a refuge if the battle went against them. Or maybe the dwarves and the manetaurs had attacked with such speed that the Frostborn had not been able to finish changing their formations.
“That was risky,” said Calliande.
“Yes, but not that risky compared to some things I’ve done,” said Ridmark. “A man can only change so much, I suppose.”
“We must move,” said Axazamar. “The taalkrazdors have torn open gaps in the lines of our enemies. Our warriors must follow to support them. Come with us if you wish, or go where you are needed.”
“We will go where we are needed,” said Ridmark. “I hope to see you again on a field of victory, King Axazamar.”
“And you, Dragon Knight,” said Axazamar. With that, the King and his party turned their horses and rode towards the advancing dwarven warriors.
“Perhaps we should stay with them,” said Third. “The Frostborn may try to assassinate King Axazamar, as they attempted to kill the High King during our march north.”
“Maybe,” said Ridmark, scanning the battle. “But I think the Frostborn are too busy for that just now. We’ve got them fighting for their lives. We should try to find Imaria before she gets anywhere near the Citadel.” He gestured with the sword of the Dragon Knight. “If need be, we’ll fight our way into Tarlion and wait for her there.”
“Agreed,” said Calliande, and she reached for the Sight again.
She swept it across the battlefield, and it took all her discipline and experience to keep from being overwhelmed by the power of the vision. Magical battle on a scale she had only seen during the last war against the Frostborn burned before the walls of Tarlion. The Frostborn threw attacks of frost and dark magic at their enemies, only to be blocked by the powers of the high elves. The taalkrazdors burned with magic, and she saw the fury as the arbiters of the manetaurs unleashed their powers into the fray, casting elemental spells of fire and water and earth. Hundreds of soulblades shone like torches upon the ramparts of Tarlion and in the Forum of the North, to say nothing of the spells holding Cathair Solas in the air, and somehow in that chaos, she needed to find Imaria.
Calliande tried, but there was no sign of the Shadowbearer. Imaria was still holding herself hidden, waiting for the moment when she could reach the Citadel without any risk. It would have to be soon, though. The battle was hanging in the balance, and if Imaria did not act soon, she would risk losing her chance to claim the Well.
“I can’t see her,” said Calliande. “She’s not…”
A flare of magic caught her attention, cold power raging against the elemental magic of the earth.
“What is it?” said Ridmark.
He must have caught the sudden tension in her expression.
“It’s Turcontar,” said Calliande, trying to focus the Sight. “You were right, Third. The Frostborn are trying to wipe out of the leaders of the manetaurs.”
“Then we must help him,” said Ridmark, lifting his burning blade. “Can you guide us to him?”
“I can,” said Calliande. She grabbed his hand, drawing on the Sight, and reached through his bond to the sword. The gate shimmered into existence before them, and Ridmark, Calliande, and Third walked through it.
###
Ridmark walked into the middle of a fight, and he reacted at once.
He swept Caledhmaer before him in a two-handed swing, and he took the head from a medvarth that was attacking a manetaur khalath. The manetaur caught his balance and stabbed with his spear, killing a second medvarth warrior that had been lining up a blow. Calliande shouted and struck her staff against the ground, sending a ripple through the earth. The nearby medvarth warriors toppled and lost their balance, and the medvarth sprang upon them.
Ahead, Ridmark saw a group of manetaurs in fine armor struggling against several Frostborn. Even as Ridmark looked, one of the Frostborn cut a manetaur warrior in half from head to chest, and a second Frostborn killed a manetaur with a blast of magic that encased the Hunter in glittering ice.
In the heart of the melee, Ridmark saw Turcontar, Curzonar, and the arbiter Tazemazar, surrounded by Curzonar’s khalaths. The Frostborn closed around them, but Turcontar and his followers put up a ferocious fight. Turcontar drove his spear forward with enough force to skewer a Frostborn, ripping the weapon free with a roar. Curzonar hewed around him with his axes, cutting down a Frostborn while the khalath Martellar protected his sides. Tazemazar cast a spell of earth magic, and acidic mist washed over the Frostborn.
Ridmark rushed to aid them, Calliande running behind him. Third disappeared in a swirl of blue fire and reappeared behind a Frostborn, stabbing the towering warrior from behind. Third could not drive her blades with enough force to do serious harm to the creature, but she did stagger it, and one of the khalaths finished off the Frostborn by driving an axe into its neck. Ridmark went into the melee, using Caledhmaer to slice a greatsword in half. The Frostborn warrior staggered with the sudden loss of the weight of his sword, and before he could recover, Ridmark drove Caledhmaer into his heart. Orange-yellow fire replaced the cold blue flame in the Frostborn’s veins, and the warrior toppled dead to the ground.
Calliande cast another spell, leveling her staff. A shaft of yellow-orange fire burst from the end of the staff, flickering with white light as she added the power of the mantle of the Keeper to the spell. The blast struck and killed a Frostborn warrior, and Calliande swept the shaft to the side before it went out, wounding two more.
“Dragon Knight!” boomed Curzonar, ducking under a medvarth’s swing and striking back with both of his axes. One of his blows cut halfway through the medvarth’s neck, and the warrior collapsed. “Come to join our hunt?”
“Aye!” said Ridmark. He killed another Frostborn, the sword of the Dragon Knight replacing the icy power in its veins with blazing fire. As the Frostborn fell, he risked another look around. The party of manetaurs around the Red King had recovered its footing, the attack of the Frostborn driven back. Turcontar himself and some of his khalaths drove against the few remaining Frostborn, the Red King leading the charge. The old manetaur hacked down one Frostborn, wheeled to face another Frostborn, and deflected a swing on his shield.
The Frostborn warrior recovered his footing, stabbed, and drove
his freezing sword through Turcontar’s cuirass and into his heart. The Red King threw back his head and roared in agony, and the other manetaurs rushed to his aid. Turcontar rammed his spear forward and into the throat of the Frostborn warrior that had wounded him, and the Frostborn warrior stumbled and collapsed, the spear still jutting from his neck.
Turcontar fell to his knees, wheezing, his golden eyes glassy and his arms limp at his side. No blood had come from his wound, and Ridmark realized it was because the Frostborn warrior’s sword had frozen even as it had cut.
It was nothing short of a miracle that Turcontar was still alive.
“Keeper!” said Curzonar, rushing to his father’s side. “Your healing, quickly!”
“No,” rasped Turcontar. “It is too late. Curzonar, take the crown from my head. You are adad-khalath. Take my place, and lead our people to victory in the Great Hunt. Do not…do not make the same mistake I did with Kurdulkar. Do not let lies fester among us. Do…”
Turcontar breathed his last and collapsed to the ground, his eyes staring unseeing at the battlefield.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Curzonar threw back his head and roared his fury to the sky, and the other manetaurs followed suit, even the arbiters. He stooped, lifted the diadem of red steel from his father’s helmet, and placed it upon his own.
“As a Red Prince of the Range and adad-khalath of the Great Hunt, I claim the crown of the Red King for my own!” thundered Curzonar. “Does anyone deny my claim?”
None of the manetaurs objected.
“Curzonar Red King!” roared Martellar, shaking his sword in the air.
“Curzonar Red King!” said Tazemazar. The cry went up from the other manetaurs.
Curzonar looked at his father once more, and a strange expression went over his leonine face. Grief? Regret? Despair? Ridmark could not say. Perhaps there was no human word for the emotion a manetaur Red Prince felt when he took his father’s place. Then Curzonar looked up, and he was the Red King of the manetaurs.
Frostborn: The Shadow Prison (Frostborn #15) Page 33
