Frostborn: Excalibur (Frostborn #13)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “You’re smiling,” said Camorak suspiciously. “That cannot be good.”

  “Am I?” said Calliande, smirking at him.

  “Dare I ask what you are thinking about?” said Camorak.

  “The Keeper ponders matters of grave importance,” said Antenora.

  “That,” said Calliande, “and making sure the toast doesn’t burn.”

  “Also a matter of grave importance,” said Camorak, taking another bite.

  There was a thump, a grunt of pain, and Calliande looked up from the fire. Gavin had landed on his backside, breathing hard, while Kharlacht pointed his greatsword at him. The orcish warrior was also breathing hard, his massive chest rising and falling like a bellows, while Brother Caius stood over them both.

  “I think you’ve got me,” said Gavin with a laugh.

  Caius extended a hand and helped Gavin back to his feet. “Barely.”

  “Aye,” grunted Kharlacht, returning his greatsword to its sheath as Gavin picked up Truthseeker. “You need to watch your legs. It is a habit of using that round shield, I expect. A kite shield might serve you better, but it would not be as resilient as one of dwarven steel.”

  “We don’t make kite shields,” said Caius, “because the khaldari do not fight from horseback.”

  “Because you are too short,” said Kharlacht.

  “True,” said Caius without rancor.

  Gavin snorted and brushed off his trousers. “It’s because you prefer to fight inside those giant suits of magical armor.”

  “The taalkrazdors do offer certain tactical advantages,” said Caius.

  “Yes, like smashing everything in their path,” said Gavin.

  “That is a tactical advantage,” said Kharlacht.

  “I am not sure how much more we have left to teach you, Sir Gavin,” said Caius. “Experience is a harsher instructor than any master at arms, and you’ve survived the last year. Just remember to guard your legs against shorter opponents, such as myself.”

  “I shall,” said Gavin, slinging his shield over his back.

  “Since that is settled,” said Kharlacht, “we ought to have breakfast.”

  All three men turned towards the campfire. Calliande blinked in surprise, wondering when she had started considering Gavin a man. He was so young, but he had survived Urd Morlemoch and Khald Azalar and dozens of battles since then.

  War aged one quickly.

  Antenora handed them plates of bread and sausage. She gave a plate to Gavin first, and he gave her a bashful smile in return. Calliande wondered if any of the others noticed that.

  “Do you think we will cross the Moradel today?” said Gavin.

  “Probably,” said Caius. “If I remember correctly, the river only gets wider as we go further south, and with respect to the Keeper, she might not be able to create a bridge.”

  “Agreed,” said Calliande. “I can do it at this width of the river, but any more might be harder. And I doubt Ridmark will want to cross at Castra Arban.” Some part of her mind pointed out that he would not want to see his ancestral home again, but she doubted he would let that influence his judgment. “Tarrabus probably has spies watching the ferries there. If we can join Arandar’s camp without Tarrabus realizing it, all the better.”

  “I hope they are all right,” said Gavin. “Everyone in Prince Arandar’s army, I mean. We saw a lot of battle together.”

  “We did,” said Calliande, “and we are bound to see some more.”

  She wasn’t sure how Arandar’s army fared. The rumors had been contradictory, so she had attempted to use the Sight to discern Prince Arandar’s fate. The Sight was often challenging to control, and sometimes it acted more like an instinct than a conscious ability. Nevertheless, she was sure that Arandar was still alive, that he and Tarrabus Carhaine had not yet come to battle. The conflict between them had not yet been decided.

  Calliande was aware that her own choices might decide that conflict.

  “Our fates are in the hands of God,” said Caius. It was a platitude, but after seeing the damaged armor of his slain son in Khald Tormen, Calliande knew how much it had cost him to say that.

  “He has seen us this far,” said Calliande. “Let us hope God sees us a little farther.” Antenora turned her head to the west. “And right now, it seems as if our direction is about to be decided.”

  Ridmark and Third strode into the camp and headed for the fire.

  A jangle of emotions went through Calliande’s heart as she looked at Ridmark. Some of it was relief that he had returned safely from his patrol. Some of it was sympathy for how much pain he had endured. Some of it, quite a lot of it, was affection. The duty of the Keeper was a heavy burden, but he had helped her carry that burden. Without his help, the Enlightened would have killed her, and she would not have been able to bring the manetaurs and the dwarves to help the Anathgrimm against the Frostborn.

  And some of it, she was embarrassed to admit, was simple lust.

  Calliande had never lain with a man. Before she had gone into the long sleep below the Tower of Vigilance, her duties first as the Keeper’s apprentice and then the Keeper had kept her too busy for such things. After she had awakened from the long sleep, she had fallen in love with Ridmark, but she had been missing her memory, and he had fallen in love with Morigna.

  A lot had happened since then, though.

  Calliande had never been with a man, but if she was going to be with one, it was going to be Ridmark Arban.

  Which was just as well, because she loved him with an intensity that sometimes surprised her. She had drawn on the power of the Stone Heart in Khald Tormen to save him, and looking back at her actions after the fury of emotion had passed, the recklessness of that shocked her. It might well have killed her, Ridmark, and everyone else in the Stone Heart.

  But it hadn’t, and he was alive.

  “Anything dangerous?” said Kharlacht.

  “I saw four deer and three wild turkeys,” said Third. “Of enemies, I saw none.”

  “A rare enough occurrence,” said Caius.

  “Truly,” said Ridmark. His eyes, blue and sharp, met Calliande’s and a shiver of emotion went through her. “If you can work the icy bridge here, I think we should cross the Moradel today. We could take one of my father’s ferries at Castra Arban, but Tarrabus almost certainly has spies there. Better to cross without anyone noticing us.”

  Calliande laughed.

  “What?” said Ridmark. He almost smiled.

  “I was just telling the others the same thing,” said Calliande. “I’m pleased we’re in agreement. It would be best to cross today.”

  “We will almost certainly encounter foes on the eastern side of the river,” said Kharlacht.

  Ridmark shrugged. “Between Tarrabus’s outriders and his dvargir mercenaries, we are bound to run into foes. We might just as easily run into Arandar’s patrols. There is no way to know until we cross. On balance, this is probably the least risky course. If we cross at Castra Arban, we might find another Enlightened ambush waiting for us.”

  Calliande shuddered with the memory of the dvargir crossbow bolt punching into her stomach. It wasn’t something she wanted to experience again, and Caradog Lordac had almost killed them all.

  “So be it,” said Calliande. “Let’s cross today, and hope it goes better than all my previous crossings of the Moradel.”

  Ridmark snorted. “Have you ever had a peaceful crossing?”

  “Yes,” said Calliande, “but that was centuries ago. And the first time I crossed the Moradel after awakening from the long sleep, Brother Caius and I were attacked by Tymandain Shadowbearer’s undead kobolds.”

  “Aye,” said Gavin. “I had forgotten about that. It seems like a thousand years ago, doesn’t it?”

  “A thousand,” agreed Ridmark. “Let’s get ready to leave, and hope this crossing is peaceful.”

  If it wasn’t, Calliande knew, he would be ready.

  ###

  Gavin brought up the back of th
e column as the horses and carts struggled to the bank of the River Moradel. The river was already hundreds of yards wide here, the waters flowing swiftly with a powerful current. Gavin would not have wanted to swim the river unencumbered, let alone while wearing armor and carrying his soulblade and his pack.

  Fortunately, with Calliande’s magic, he wouldn’t have to do it.

  The Keeper stood at the edge of the waters, white light flashing up and down her worn staff as she cast a spell. White mist swirled around the fingers of her left hand, and she thrust her arm forward, the white mist rolling from her fingers and into the water.

  The icy bridge began to appear.

  It rose from the water, a glistening expanse of white ice, and arched from the western bank to the eastern bank. Calliande closed her eyes, her face tight with concentration, and the bridge expanded, becoming five yards wide. Evidently holding that much water frozen against the pressure of the river took a great deal of effort.

  “Stay with the Keeper,” said Ridmark, and Gavin nodded. If the Enlightened or other enemies tried to make a move against Calliande, Gavin and Antenora were her best line of defense. Ridmark beckoned to Kharlacht, Caius, and Third, and they fell in around him. Third took two steps forward and vanished in a flare of blue fire. An instant later she reappeared halfway across the bridge, only to vanish in another pulse of blue flame. She would scout the forests along the Moradel road, looking for any sign of enemies.

  Ridmark, Kharlacht, and Caius crossed first, weapons in hand. Then came Sir Ector’s surviving men-at-arms and the remaining supply wagons. Gavin noted that the wagons were much emptier than they had been when they had set out from Castra Carhaine to find Ridmark and Queen Mara. It was just as well they were returning to Arandar’s army. A pity Third hadn’t killed any of those deer or turkeys for the meat.

  Gavin waited as the men crossed, keeping a close eye on the forest. No enemies emerged to challenge them. Gavin found his eyes straying to Antenora as they waited. She stood motionless, her dark coat stirring in the breeze. Antenora always looked so grim, but she had seemed happy to see him as he approached after his training with Kharlacht and Caius.

  He had been happy to see her, too.

  But he didn’t know what to do about that. From time to time, he thought about kissing Antenora, but he knew she could not feel it if he did. In some ways, she was more undead than alive. She required neither food nor drink, felt neither pain nor pleasure, and could heal from the wounds of normal weapons. Dark magic cursed her, and that curse would hold until she fulfilled her oath and helped Calliande to defeat the Frostborn.

  When she fulfilled her oath, she would die in truth.

  That thought filled him with a deep sadness.

  “We should probably cross,” said Camorak, who was standing behind them. “All the others are almost across.”

  “Yes,” said Gavin.

  Calliande nodded and opened her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Please make sure I don’t fall into the water. This is harder than it looks.”

  “Of course,” said Gavin, and he led the way across the icy bridge, Antenora and Camorak walking behind Calliande to make sure she kept her balance. It was hot enough that the surface of the ice was melting, though from time to time a pulse of white mist flowed across the ice to refreeze it. Gavin had to choose his footsteps carefully. He could not imagine holding such a powerful spell in place while walking on such a slippery surface, but Calliande managed it, though Antenora had to grab her elbow a few times.

  At last, they crossed onto the eastern bank, and Gavin scrambled up the steep incline and onto the Moradel road. According to Brother Caius, the High Kings of Andomhaim had built the Moradel road as the realm expanded north, and the road was in better repair the further south one went. Here the road was in good shape, broad and flat and hard, and even had low ditches on either side to prevent flooding.

  They had taken three steps onto the road when Calliande came to a stop and let out a shuddering gasp. A loud crack rang out, and Gavin turned just in time to see the icy bridge disintegrate into dozens of jagged chunks. They washed away with the current, some of them already melting. Calliande took a shuddering breath and wiped some sweat from her forehead.

  “That is a lot harder in summer,” she said.

  “I can imagine,” said Camorak. “It’s a pity I don’t have any drink left. I could ask you to make some ice for it.”

  Calliande gave him an exasperated look and walked to Ridmark, who stood frowning into the forest.

  “Anything?” said Calliande.

  “Not yet,” said Ridmark. “I thought Third would have been back by now. She must have…”

  Third burst from the trees and sprinted towards them. That caught Gavin by surprise. When Third needed to travel a short distance in great haste, she almost always used the power of her blood to transport herself in the blink of an eye. Her short swords were in her hand, the blue blades stained with thick dark blood. The only time Third ever ran was while fighting…

  Gavin yanked Truthseeker from its scabbard, and the blade started to glimmer with white fire.

  “The enemy comes!” shouted Third.

  A heartbeat later scores of gray shapes erupted from the trees. Gavin expected more dvargir warriors like those that had attacked at Regnum or in the Northerland. Or deep orcs enslaved by the dvargir, or maybe more of the Enlightened of Incariel. Perhaps even the men of Tarrabus Carhaine, or simple bandits exploiting the chaos of the civil war.

  Gavin did not expect kobolds.

  He had only seen kobolds a few times before, but he recognized the creatures nonetheless. The kobolds were spindly, about the size of large human children, with long, lizard-like skulls, yellow eyes, and tails that coiled behind them like snapping whips. Claws tipped their fingers and toes, and the kobolds wore armor of iron rings shaped to fit their long bodies. Every one of the kobolds had a strange symbol burned into their right shoulders, and in their hands, they carried bows and weighted nets.

  The kobolds had come to take captives.

  Gavin rushed to meet the enemy.

  Chapter 2: Knights

  Ridmark snapped his staff up to guard position, and that kept him from becoming entangled.

  The kobolds flung their nets, which had been cleverly designed to wrap around their victims and hold them fast. The kobolds often used such weighted nets on their raids for captives, and the dvargir slavers did the same. Ridmark had fought them before, and he knew their tactics.

  The net slammed into his extended staff, and the force of its impact nearly tore the weapon from his hand. But Ridmark anticipated the movement and spun, sending the net tumbling from his weapon. Before the kobold that had thrown it could react, Ridmark charged. The kobold started to draw a short sword sheathed at its side, but Ridmark struck before it could react. His staff slammed into the side the kobold’s head. There was a crack, and the creature collapsed to the road, blood leaking from its nostrils and mouth.

  He heard the whistle of another net and ducked, thrusting his staff in the direction of the noise. Another net coiled around the staff, and it hit hard enough to rip the weapon from his hand. Three kobolds rushed at him, drawing back long spears to stab.

  Ridmark yanked the dwarven war axe from his belt and rushed to meet the kobolds, raising the weapon in a swing. The kobolds had not expected him to attack, and he seized their moment of distraction. One of the spears struck him in the stomach, hitting him with painful force, but his dark elven armor deflected the iron point. Ridmark brought his axe hammering down, and the blade of dwarven steel split the kobold’s skull. The remaining two kobolds spread around him, and Ridmark backed away, jerking his axe to the left and to the right to deflect the thrusts of their spears.

  Blue fire snarled behind one of the kobolds, and Third appeared, her swords a blue blur in her hands. The kobold on Ridmark’s right jerked as Third took off its head, and she disappeared in another flash of blue fire. The remaining kobold hesitated, no doubt confu
sed by the sight of a woman who could disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye, and Ridmark killed the creature before it recovered its balance.

  He ducked, snatched his staff from the net, and saw that they were losing the battle.

  The entangling nets of the kobolds had overwhelmed most of the men-at-arms, and Camorak, Kharlacht, and Caius were all down. Antenora and Calliande were caught in the nets as well, but Gavin had remained free, carving his way through the kobolds with Truthseeker blazing in his fist.

  A wielder of dark magic had to be nearby.

  And more kobolds stormed out of the trees, nets and weapons ready. Four of them rushed towards Ridmark, and he fought for his life, axe and staff in hand.

  ###

  “Hold still,” said Calliande, drawing together magic for a spell.

  The ropes had bound her and Antenora together, knocking them to the ground. For all the fire magic that she wielded, Antenora’s body felt strangely cold, even through the heavy clothes she wore. The ropes of the net held Calliande pressed hard against her apprentice and would have been impossible to escape by any normal means.

  But the nets did nothing to block Calliande’s magical powers.

  Once before, kobolds had taken Calliande captive and carried her in a net to their village. They had been controlled by the Eternalist Talvinius, who had intended to transfer his corrupted spirit into Calliande’s body so he could live again. Back then, Calliande had been helpless, both her memory and her magical powers lost to her.

  This time, the kobolds had bitten off more than they could chew.

  Calliande worked a spell, shaping the magic of elemental fire, and a gout of flame snapped from her left hand, burning through the ropes. That freed her left arm, and she dragged it to the side, burning through more of the ropes.

  With a shiver, the net unraveled.

  Antenora surged to her feet, fire blazing up her staff and condensing at its end. Calliande staggered up just in time to see a half-dozen kobolds charge them, spears in hand. Antenora slashed her staff. A two-foot long blade of white-hot flame jutted from the end of the staff, and the blade sliced through three of the kobolds without noticeable resistance. Their bodies collapsed to the ground, smoking and sizzling from the intense heat of Antenora’s fire, and the remaining three kobolds hesitated, taken aback by the fury of Antenora’s magic.