Frostborn: The Gray Knight (Frostborn #1)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “We can trade stories later,” said Ridmark. “Run!”

  He ran for the gate, the others following. The kobolds had started to gain the upper hand against the spitfangs. A kobold lunged at Ridmark, and he knocked the warrior out of his way with a sharp swing of his staff.

  Ridmark ran through the gate and sprinted through the field of mushrooms. Still he saw no signs of pursuit. The spitfangs would keep the kobolds occupied, but once they pacified their war beasts, they would realize what had happened.

  They would want revenge.

  Best to be gone from the Deeps by then.

  He headed into the tunnel leading from the kobolds’ cavern, weaving his way around the clusters of glowing mushrooms. Soon he saw Caius waiting, his mace ready.

  “You’re alive!” Caius said. “Truly, the age of miracles has not passed from the world.”

  “Evidently not,” said Ridmark. “And if we don’t keep moving, we’re not going to stay alive. Go.”

  They resumed their run, heading for Thainkul Agon.

  Chapter 15 - Parting

  Calliande’s chest burned, her legs aching with every step.

  But she kept running.

  The thought of several hundred angry kobolds proved an excellent motivator.

  They had left Thainkul Agon, following the stream into its downward-sloping tunnel. The tunnel curved back and forth, the stream splashing in its channel. The air smelled of wet and mold, and thick clumps of glowing mushrooms lined the tunnel. Calliande ran on, her heart pounding, her legs throbbing. She was tired…but not as tired as she thought she would be.

  Whatever strange power that had let her heal quickly, that had allowed her to drive back Talvinius, was still working.

  At last Ridmark raised his hand and stopped.

  “We can rest here,” he said, squinting up the tunnel. “We’ll have ample warning if the kobolds are after us. And I think we could benefit from some rest.”

  “Aye,” said Caius, his gray face dark from exertion. He let out a long breath. “I once ran all day and fought deep orcs all night. Ah, but that was a hundred years ago. I am too old to keep up with you children.”

  Calliande looked at the dwarf. She suspected Caius was at least two centuries old…but if Talvinius had told her the truth, she might be older than him.

  Ridmark passed out some food, dried meat and hard bread, and they sat against the cavern wall. Even Kharlacht sat down with a sigh, the blue steel of his armor clanking. Yet Ridmark remained standing, watching the tunnel for any pursuit.

  “How did you do that?” said Calliande.

  “Do what?” said Ridmark.

  “Get into the village,” said Calliande. “It must house five hundred kobolds. How did you fight past them?”

  Caius chuckled. “He did not, my lady. Do you recall how red ghost mushrooms drive a spitfang to madness?”

  Calliande nodded.

  “Ridmark ground up a large number of red mushrooms and threw the powder into the spitfangs’ pen,” said Caius. “In the resultant chaos, he and Kharlacht slipped into the village and escorted you to safety.”

  “Much as he did,” said Kharlacht around a mouthful of bread, “at the standing stones.” He shook his head. “Only a madman would think to use a nest of fire drakes as a weapon.”

  Ridmark looked at her. “What happened in the village? We had come to rescue you…but you were already rescuing yourself. What happened to the shaman?”

  Caius frowned. “I thought you slew him.”

  Ridmark shook his head. “No. We fought our way to the heart of the village….and then a blast of white fire erupted from the shaman’s lair. It threw him to the ground, and if he wasn’t dead from the fire, the landing certainly killed him.”

  Calliande hesitated. She did not want to speak of what had happened. But Ridmark and Caius had risked their lives to save her, and Kharlacht had proven himself honorable.

  “I don’t know,” said Calliande at last. “The kobold shaman…I don’t think he was a kobold, not truly. He claimed his name was Talvinius, and that he was once a member of the Order of the Magistri.”

  Caius frowned. “A kobold Magistrius?”

  “No. Well…after a fashion,” said Calliande. “He said he had once been a member of the Order of the Vigilant, but became something called an Eternalist. When his body died, he sent his spirit into a kobold’s body to survive. That was why he sent Crotaph after us. He wanted to claim my body, to send his spirit into my flesh.” She touched the pouch at her belt. “And he wanted the soulstone.”

  Ridmark and Caius shared a look.

  “What is an Eternalist?” said Kharlacht.

  “An order of heretics within the Order of Magistri,” said Ridmark. “Or they were. They arose soon after the Frostborn were destroyed. They chafed at the restrictions the laws of the High King and the Church placed upon magic, and wished to expand their powers. Eventually they came to believe that the Magistri were the natural rulers of all men, and found willing allies in nobles who wanted to turn their peasants and freeholders into slaves, just as the lords of Rome on Old Earth ruled over an empire of slaves. There was civil war, but the Eternalists were defeated. The Order of the Magistri was reformed, and the Eternalists were all slain or went into hiding.”

  “Except for this Talvinius,” said Kharlacht, “who has lurked here ever since.”

  Caius sighed. “I am not surprised the Eternalists found an audience for their lies among the lords of Andomhaim. I came to the High King’s realm hoping to find zealous sons of the Church. Instead I found that the nobles are more interested in wealth, the Swordbearers in their prestige, the Magistri in their power, and the priests in their concubines.”

  “True,” said Ridmark. “But some of the nobles are good men. Dux Gareth Licinius is a valiant and true lord.” He was silent for a moment. “And my father.”

  Calliande blinked. Ridmark had never spoken of his family. A memory rose from the fog of her mind. He had said that his name was Ridmark Arban…and the head of the house of Arban was also the Dux of Taliand, the oldest and most prestigious duxarchate in the realm of Andomhaim.

  Which meant that Ridmark’s father was one of the most powerful men in the High Kingdom.

  “Aye, Dux Gareth and Dux Leogrance are good men,” said Caius, “but I fear they are a minority.”

  “Are good men not always a minority?” said Ridmark. “Did not God tell Abraham that he would spare the cities of the plain if only ten righteous men could be found within their walls?” He waved his hand. “But we have more immediate concerns than history and theology.”

  “History and theology are the immediate concerns of every man,” said Caius.

  Ridmark made an exasperated sound and turned back to Calliande. “How did you escape him?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Calliande. “He was…powerful. He cast a spell on me, and I felt his spirit try to take control of my body. I got so…so angry. Not just from what he was doing to me, but from how he had abused his magic, how he had taken something that was to be a sacred trust and twisted it into something profane. It felt like a fire was erupting inside me. Talvinius started to scream…and when I woke up he was gone. Probably burning on the floor of the cavern.”

  The men considered this in silence for a moment.

  “Are you a Magistria?” said Ridmark at last.

  “I don’t know!” said Calliande, striking her fist against her leg. “I don’t know. I didn’t cast a spell, yet magic must have killed Talvinius. I think Talvinius knew me before…before whatever happened to seal me below the Tower of Vigilance. The way he spoke to me, I must have been a Magistria. But I cannot recall anything of magic, any knowledge of my past.” She shuddered. “And if he knew me, if he was an Eternalist…that means I was in that vault for at least a hundred and fifty years. He spoke of the Frostborn as if he had seen them…and that means I could have been asleep for two centuries. Everyone I ever knew is dead. My mother and father, any brothers an
d sisters. If I had a husband and children. They are all dead…and I cannot remember them.”

  She wanted to weep for the family she had lost…assuming she had even had a family.

  For she could not remember.

  “I am sorry,” said Caius. “If you like, when we stop I can say prayers for the repose of their souls.”

  Calliande nodded. “Thank you.”

  “But there is another concern,” said Kharlacht. He stood. “How do we know that you are not Talvinius?”

  Calliande blinked. “What?”

  “Talvinius burned on the floor of the cavern,” said Ridmark.

  “Aye, but if this sorcerer was an Eternalist, a changer of flesh,” said Kharlacht, “he might have taken Calliande’s body before his old flesh perished.”

  Calliande opened her mouth, closed it, a panic growing inside her. She had no way to disprove the orc’s suspicions, no way to prove who she really was.

  She didn’t even know who she really was.

  “Doubtful,” said Ridmark. “If that was Talvinius, we would be dead. Once he occupied Calliande’s body, he would have commanded his followers to slay us, or brought his magic to bear.”

  “Perhaps he wished to gain our trust,” said Kharlacht.

  “To what end?” said Ridmark. “Calliande already had the soulstone. And we are a disgraced knight, a baptized orc, and a dwarven friar. If Talvinius wanted to find useful tools, he could certainly have done better than us.”

  Caius laughed. “I fear your argument is correct.”

  “Thank you,” said Calliande.

  Kharlacht nodded after a moment. “As you say.”

  Ridmark looked up the tunnel. “We have rested enough, I think.”

  “You hear the kobolds?” said Caius, scrambling to his feet.

  “Not yet,” said Ridmark, “but they are following, I have no doubt. Come.”

  They stood, and followed him along the bank of the stream.

  ###

  Ridmark squinted into the gloom.

  “I see light ahead,” said Caius. “Moonlight, I think.”

  Kharlacht sniffed the air. “And I can smell trees.”

  “The surface,” said Calliande. “I have never been so glad to see it. I have spent far too much time underground.”

  “Be on your guard,” said Ridmark, staff ready. “Another ursaar might lair in the entrance.”

  But the others hurried forward, even Caius, eager to see the surface again. Ridmark kept watch, his eyes and ears straining for any sign of attackers, but the cavern seemed deserted.

  Then the entrance yawned before them, and they stepped onto a ledge overlooking a steep valley. The stream rushed past and fell in a white waterfall, flowing away to the River Marcaine to the south. The stars blazed in the night sky overhead, and three of the thirteen moons shone.

  All of them, Ridmark noted, glowing with the color of the flames that had filled the sky the day he found Calliande.

  “The surface,” said Calliande, her face relieved as she gazed at the sky.

  “And this, I think,” said Ridmark, turning to face Kharlacht, “is where we part ways.”

  His fingers tightened around his staff. If Kharlacht would attempt treachery, he would do it now.

  But the orc remained impassive, his expression solemn. Perhaps even sad.

  “Aye,” he said. “I gave oath to see you safely to the surface, and so I have done. I am now obliged to go to my kin.”

  “Qazarl, you mean,” said Calliande.

  Kharlacht nodded. “You are a valiant warrior, Gray Knight, and could I work my will I would fight under your banner rather than Qazarl’s. But I am bound by blood, and I must follow him.”

  “You needn’t follow him,” said Ridmark. “You could leave him and come with me.”

  “And do what?” said Kharlacht. “Wander the wilds seeking wrongs to right? I have no place within the realm of Andomhaim, just as I have no place in Vhaluusk. And I could not forsake my blood.”

  “You will do what you must,” said Ridmark.

  “You understand what that means,” said Kharlacht.

  “And you will not try to abduct Calliande again?” said Ridmark.

  “I will not,” said Kharlacht. “I gave my sworn word.” He sighed. “When we next meet, it shall be on the field of battle. May God go with you, Gray Knight.”

  “And with you, Kharlacht of Vhaluusk,” said Ridmark.

  Kharlacht nodded and walked away. Ridmark saw him picking his way over the side of the steep hill, moving from rock to rock. Soon he vanished into the pine trees coating the hill.

  “Come,” said Ridmark, looking at the sky. “It’s about midnight. We’ll find a place to rest, and then head for Dun Licinia tomorrow at daybreak.”

  Assuming Qazarl had not already destroyed the town.

  Ridmark, Calliande and Caius ascended to the hill’s crest, and Ridmark looked around. The combined light of the three moons and the stars was enough to identify some landmarks, and the dark mass of the Black Mountain blotted out a portion of the sky.

  “Southwest,” said Ridmark. “We’re southwest of the mountain, and directly west of Dun Licinia. About a half-day, maybe three-quarters of a day. We’ll reach it tomorrow.”

  “What will become of me?” said Calliande.

  “I doubt Qazarl or Shadowbearer will forget about you,” said Ridmark. “Once I’ve warned Sir Joram and Dux Licinius about Qazarl, I can take you to Tarlion, to the Tower of the Magistri there. If you were once a Magistria, they should have records of you. And if some sort of spell blocks your memories, they can remove it. I believe Sir Joram has a Magistrius in his service at Dun Licinia, though I cannot remember the name.”

  “His name is Alamur,” said Caius. “A man much in love with the sound of his own voice, if you will forgive my bluntness.”

  “I see why you would not get along,” said Ridmark. “Nevertheless, he is a Magistrius, and perhaps he can help you.”

  Calliande wrapped her arms around herself. “I am not sure I wish to speak to any Magistri, if Talvinius is representative of their Order.”

  “The Eternalists are extinct,” said Ridmark, “and Talvinius spent the last century hiding in the darkness of the Deeps. I would not trust anything he said.”

  “I suppose not,” said Calliande.

  “We’ll camp here tonight,” said Ridmark, “and make our way to Dun Licinia in the morning.”

  They made themselves as comfortable as they could within a ring of pine trees. Ridmark took the first watch, and soon both Calliande and Caius had fallen asleep. The fighting in the Deeps, Ridmark suspected, had taken more out of Caius than the friar had let on.

  He watched Calliande for a moment, considering what to do about her.

  He had sought for evidence of the Frostborn for five years…and on the very day he had seen the omen that heralded their return, Calliande had awakened in the vault below the Tower of Vigilance. And if Talvinius had been telling the truth, she had been in that vault since the defeat of the Frostborn.

  Her memories might hold the answers Ridmark had long sought, the truth about the return of the Frostborn.

  Perhaps he should to travel with her until she regained her memory. He had planned to travel to Urd Morlemoch, to force the Warden to reveal the truth of his prophecy, but Calliande might hold all the answers he needed.

  Assuming she was willing to share them with him.

  For once she regained her memory, she might refuse to have anything to do with him. He had been expelled from the Order of the Swordbearers, branded with the mark of a traitor and a coward. The Magistri shunned Ridmark, as did the Swordbearers, and if Calliande truly had been a Magistria, she might well shun him once she recovered her memory.

  She would be right to do it. He deserved death, for what had happened. Someday it would come to him, and then he could rest.

  But only after he had warned the realm against the return of the Frostborn.

  Ridmark stood motio
nless until Caius awoke to take the watch, and then fell into a dreamless sleep.

  ###

  The next day they broke camp and headed across the foothills for Dun Licinia.

  Chapter 16 - Burning Fields

  An hour later, Ridmark saw the first plume of black smoke against the blue sky.

  “A large fire,” said Caius.

  Ridmark nodded, scanning the pine trees for any foes.

  “Are there any freeholds this far from the town?” said Caius.

  “Several,” said Ridmark. He smelled the burning wood now. He could not smell burning flesh, which was good. He glanced at Calliande, saw her tight, worried expression. “It’s dangerous this far north, but bold freeholders claim lands here, try to make a living. Worth it, if he can pull it off…but he’s always at risk from pagan orcs or kobolds or worse things.”

  He found a path heading through the trees and took it, trying to move quietly. Though it hardly matter – Caius could move quietly enough, but Calliande simply had no ability at stealth. Ridmark suspected the countryside was crawling with Qazarl’s scouts by now, and he would prefer to avoid them. He thought he could take four or five of the Mhalekites in a straight fight, but any more than that could simply overwhelm him.

  Or they could just shoot him from behind a tree.

  The path ended in a large clearing at the base of a hill. Once the clearing had held a freehold, terraces climbing the sides of the nearby slopes, a pair of large barns overlooking a set of sheep pens. But now the barns burned, flames devouring their walls and rafters. A house built of fieldstone stood behind the barns, its interior and roof ablaze.

  There was no sign of any living thing.

  “Those fires couldn’t have been started more than an hour past,” said Caius.

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. “But I don’t think the orcs killed anyone.” He strode into the clearing. “You see these tracks?” He pointed. “Sheep and pigs. Recent tracks, too. I think the freeholder and his family got out before the orcs came.” He looked at the burning barns. “Hopefully they reached Dun Licinia before Qazarl’s scouts caught them.”