“The fire the Keeper used reduced the kobold shaman to a charred husk,” said Antenora. “There were no juices left.”
“See?” said Camorak. “Antenora agrees with me.”
“That is not what I said,” said Calliande.
“We’ve saved everyone who can be saved,” said Camorak. “Me, I’m going to go get some food and then some rest. God knows when we’ll have the chance for either again.”
With that, he walked off towards the assemblage of tents rising at the base of the hill. The men-at-arms had retrieved their horses and wagons from the road, and Ridmark had decided to set up camp here. It was late in the afternoon by now, and they would only make a few more miles before dark if they set off now. Better to camp early, and set off rested in the morning.
“Perhaps you should rest as well, Keeper,” said Antenora.
“Soon,” said Calliande. “I want to talk to Ridmark and Sir Tagrimn first.”
Antenora nodded and joined Calliande as she walked across the camp. Most of the tents were up now, and some of the men-at-arms had constructed a campfire. Calliande spotted Ridmark talking to Sir Tagrimn on the other side of the fire, Kharlacht, Caius, and Gavin standing with him, while Third waited a few yards away like a watchful shadow.
Calliande circled around the fire and came to a stop with sudden surprise.
A man who looked like an older, fatter, and balder version of Ridmark stood next to Sir Tagrimn. He had the same cold blue eyes as Ridmark, and was stouter than his youngest brother, though he had lost quite a bit of weight since Calliande at first met him north of Dun Calpurnia, thanks to the rigors of a year of campaigning.
“Sir Tormark,” said Calliande.
“My lady Keeper,” said Tormark with a bow. He was the eldest son of Leogrance Arban and heir to the duxarchate of Taliand. If Arandar took the throne and they weren’t all killed by the Frostborn, one day Tormark would be one of the most powerful noblemen in Andomhaim. Next to Tormark, Ridmark looked like a lean wolf, but Tormark had some of the same iron air of command that they had both inherited from Dux Leogrance.
“I did not expect to find you here,” said Calliande.
“Nor were Sir Tagrimn and I expecting to find you,” said Tormark, “but this is excellent news. The fate of Tarlion hangs in the balance, and your powers might decide the day.”
Chapter 3: Next Time
“Then the battle has not yet been decided?” said Ridmark.
Night had fallen, and the men-at-arms had settled into the camp. Sir Tagrimn and Tormark had ordered sentries posted, lest the kobolds make another attempt at them, but Ridmark doubted they would face any more trouble. Ridmark was more concerned that another band of dvargir slavers would come upon them, or perhaps the Enlightened. It was always wise to remain watchful.
“It has not,” said Tagrimn. “God and the saints!” The old knight grimaced, his bald head reflecting the light from the fire. “I’m tired of this dancing and feinting. Best we come to grips with the foe and get on with it.”
“If we move too quickly,” said Tormark, “then Tarrabus will be the High King, whether we like it or not.”
Ridmark stood with Calliande, Tormark, Tagrimn, Brother Caius, and Kharlacht. Antenora and Gavin waited a short distance away, keeping watch over Calliande as they always did. Third had vanished in a swirl of blue fire, intending to scout for enemies. That seemed to alarm Tormark and Tagrimn slightly, but both men had been slightly alarmed by Mara, and she and the Anathgrimm had saved their lives at Dun Calpurnia.
“Then Tarrabus is still laying siege to Tarlion?” said Calliande in a quiet voice.
“He is, the damned dog,” said Tagrimn, spitting into the fire. “He's methodical about it, too. Of course, he’d have to be, given how strong the walls of Tarlion are. Not even the urdmordar could take Tarlion, though the false king thinks himself strong enough to do it.”
“He has built siege walls all around Tarlion,” said Tormark. “His dvargir mercenaries are capable engineers, and he is not hesitant to conscript labor from the commoners with threats of violence. The circumvallation wall he has built around Tarlion is worthy of the Roman legions of old, and even your kindred might find it impressive, Brother Caius. The city of Tarlion is sealed as tight as a goldsmith’s strongbox.”
Ridmark frowned. “Then he sealed the harbor as well?”
“Aye, brother,” said Tormark. “The Dux of Arduran and the Dux of Tarras both went over to Tarrabus’s side, and between them, they controlled most of Andomhaim’s navy.” He snorted and waved a thick hand. “Not that we ever had much need of a navy, since none of our foes build ships and we have no idea what lies beyond the southern and the western seas. But between the two of them, they have enough ships to keep anyone from getting in and out of Tarlion’s harbor.”
“Does not Prince Cadwall of Cintarra have some warships?” said Calliande.
“He does,” said Tagrimn, “but the traitors have more ships. Nearly half again as many. If the Prince sends his ships to clear the harbor, they might well lose the fight, and then we shall have no ships at all.”
“But Corbanic Lamorus still holds the city?” said Ridmark.
“Sir Corbanic is a valiant man,” said Tormark. “One of the smartest things old Uthanaric Pendragon ever did was to name Sir Corbanic the Constable of Tarlion before he marched to fight the Frostborn. Another man might have yielded to Tarrabus, but Corbanic will fight until his dying breath. He hated Tarrabus even before the traitor revealed himself.” He sighed. “The problem is that there is only so much food in Tarlion, and there are a hundred thousand people within its walls. High King Uthanaric always kept the granaries well-stocked in the event of a siege, but Tarlion has been under siege for over a year. There cannot be that much food left within the walls of the city.”
Caius nodded. “Hunger has conquered many a citadel that no army could defeat.”
“And Tarlion might share that fate before too much longer,” said Tormark.
“How far is Arandar’s army from Tarlion?” said Calliande.
“Only a few miles,” said Tormark. “It’s been there for the last few weeks.”
Ridmark frowned. “And Arandar hasn’t offered battle to Tarrabus yet?”
Tormark sighed. “No.”
“The false king has dug himself a rat hole,” said Tagrimn.
“It’s hard to march thirty thousand men south without drawing some attention,” said Tormark, “and Tarrabus knew we were coming, so he built a second contravallation wall outside of his siege wall. His army is camped between the two walls, and thanks to his dvargir engineers, it is extremely well fortified. Attacking that contravallation wall would be as costly as assailing a fortified castra, and Tarrabus has as many men as we do. Worse, that contravallation wall is an excellent place from which to launch raids, and Tarrabus has been sending sorties to harass our supply lines. Our army was too exposed.”
Ridmark followed the logic to its conclusion. “So then Arandar built his own wall to encircle Tarrabus.”
“Exactly,” said Tormark.
“Then…there are three walls, sir knight?” said Gavin, frowning as he tried to follow the discussion. “Tarrabus built a siege wall around Tarlion. Then Arandar’s army arrived, and Tarrabus built a second wall to keep the loyalists away. So then Arandar built a wall around both of Tarrabus’s walls.”
“That is correct, Sir Gavin,” said Tormark.
“A great damned lot of digging,” said Tagrimn. “It isn’t knightly.”
“It isn’t,” said Calliande, her eyes distant with memory.
“But it is effective,” said Caius. “I read the books your ancestors brought from Old Earth. It is written that during the days of the Empire of the Romans, the legions of Julius Caesar raised a fort every night when they camped and destroyed it when they departed the next morning to deny it to the enemy.”
“Our armies did much the same during the first war against the Frostborn,” said Calliande, her eye
s still distant. “An earthwork wall can hinder even the Frostborn if it’s put in the right place.”
“Then Tarrabus is laying siege to Tarlion,” said Gavin, “but Prince Arandar is laying siege to Tarrabus’s army.”
“Aye, lad, that’s the long and the short of it,” said Sir Tagrimn.
“Will it work?” said Ridmark. “Can Arandar starve out Tarrabus?”
Tormark and Tagrimn exchanged another look.
“If it were just a matter of food, aye, we could do it,” said Tormark. “We’ve got Tarrabus and his army completely sealed within their walls. Tarrabus had been expecting to use Caerdracon and Calvus to feed his army during the siege, but we’ve taken all of Caerdracon and Calvus.”
“I would have liked to see the expression on the face of the Dux of Calvus when his duxarchate fell,” said Ridmark, remembering the murdered monks he had seen at Regnum. He had killed the Weaver at Khald Tormen, and he fully intended to kill both Tarrabus and Imaria if it was within his power, though he would not put Calliande at risk to do so. Yet neither would he hesitate to kill Dux Septimus Andrius of Calvus, both him and all the other Enlightened.
He saw Calliande’s concerned expression. She always had a knack for guessing his thoughts, especially when an evil mood came upon him. Ridmark had the sudden urge to take her hand in his.
Had they been alone, he would have done so.
“He was rather annoyed,” said Tormark with a satisfied smile. “We’ve been having occasional parleys over the last few weeks, along with duels between champions of both sides, since there’s not much else to do. Dux Septimus Andrius has been making all kinds of threats, but he’s not able to do anything about it at the moment.”
“But if Prince Arandar controls both Calvus and Caerdracon,” said Caius, “and you’ve got Tarrabus’s army trapped within its own walls, then they’re going to run out of food sooner or later.”
“Aye,” said Tagrimn. “We reckoned the bastards will start starving in another few weeks. The dvargir keep digging tunnels, and we keep collapsing them, but you can’t move enough food to feed tens of thousands of fighting men and horses through a few narrow tunnels.”
“So, what happens when Tarrabus’s army runs out of food?” said Ridmark.
“We don’t know,” said Tormark.
“The false king won’t surrender,” said Tagrimn. “Either he will try to break his way into Tarlion, or he’ll attempt to drive off the Prince’s army.”
“Either way,” said Tormark, “it’s going to be a bloody battle.”
Tagrimn nodded, staring into the fire. “We’re standing in a barn stuffed full of sawdust, and we’re all holding lit torches. The first one to drop the torch is going to blow up the barn.”
“Why would you store sawdust in a barn?” said Gavin, blinking. “That would be a terrible risk of fire.”
“Exactly,” said Tagrimn, nodding as if he had made a profound point.
“What are you doing this far north?” said Ridmark.
“Escorting supplies south,” said Tormark. “Despite our other problems, we at least have enough to eat. Calvus and Caerdracon are sending us their harvest, and the civil war hasn’t touched Taliand. Tarrabus is stuck inside his walls, but the dvargir slavers are constantly raiding from the Deeps. They keep hitting our supply caravans, and they’ll carry off anyone they can capture as slaves. We only have a few men to spare to guard the supply trains and deal with the slavers.”
“The dvargir are ever opportunists,” said Calliande, shaking her head with annoyance. “They did the same during the first war against the Frostborn. Aye, they might have followed the commands of Tymandain Shadowbearer, but they always looked out for their own interests. Once there is a strong High King in Tarlion again, they will retreat.”
“A realm ruled by a man like Tarrabus Carhaine would be to the advantage of the dvargir,” said Caius. “They would take slaves and tribute as they pleased, and I have no doubt they have exacted a steep price from Tarrabus. But the dvargir are fools. If Andomhaim is not reunified and the Frostborn are not defeated, then one day the dvargir will die or become slaves themselves when the Frostborn conquer Khaldurmar.”
“You speak wisdom, Brother Caius,” said Tagrimn. Ridmark wondered how Tagrimn would react if he knew that Caius was a member of the royal house of Khald Tormen.
“Then it is a great blessing from God that we have found you here, Keeper,” said Tormark. “We are too evenly matched with Tarrabus and his forces, and your magic will be a heavy blow in our favor.”
“Aye,” said Calliande in a quiet voice, gazing into the fire. “I hope it will be.”
###
Calliande listened for another hour or so as the others talked. She felt little need to involve herself in the discussions. Sir Tormark and Sir Tagrimn were both valiant knights, but they were not the leaders of the loyalist host. Arandar was the commander, and Dux Leogrance, Dux Gareth, Prince Cadwall, and the other high nobles would be his advisors. Calliande herself would be one of Arandar’s advisors once she returned. It pleased her that she would be able to bring the Prince Regent good news, that she would be able to tell him that the manetaurs and the dwarves had marched to aid the Anathgrimm in the Northerland.
And, in truth, she had little need to talk because Brother Caius did most of the talking.
He told of how they had gone to the Range and Khald Tormen to secure the aid of the manetaurs and the dwarves against the Frostborn. Calliande noted with amusement how he passed over his own involvement, instead praising Ridmark and Gavin and Calliande and the others.
“A pity you couldn’t get the Anathgrimm to help us,” said Tormark. “I saw how they fought at Dun Calpurnia. Give us ten thousand Anathgrimm, and we’d break Tarrabus against the walls of Tarlion like glass beneath a hammer. Help from the dwarves and the manetaurs would do the same.”
“They wouldn’t help us against Tarrabus,” said Calliande. “They won’t take sides in a civil war within Andomhaim. King Axazamar and Red King Turcontar will help the High King against the Frostborn, but only a unified Andomhaim ruled by a true High King. Tarrabus is our enemy to defeat.”
“And defeat him we shall,” said Tormark.
“We shall,” said Calliande. As Keeper of Andomhaim, she needed to show confidence.
In her heart, she wasn’t nearly so certain.
After a few more moments, she excused herself, and Ridmark walked her to her tent.
“You always seem so confident,” said Ridmark.
“Do I?” said Calliande. “Well, I suppose that’s good. But you know me too well. You see through me. And you always seem confident when you charge off to do something reckless.”
“It is a requirement of leading men into battle,” said Ridmark. “They cannot see their leader show doubt or fear before the enemy. If they do, they lose heart, and the battle might be over before it begins.” He shrugged. “Morale is an unpredictable thing, but it is powerful.”
“Which is why the Keeper of Andomhaim must always be confident and calm when treating with knights and lords,” said Calliande. They stopped before her tent. “It makes me glad that you met me when you did.”
Ridmark blinked. “What do you mean? When we met, you had lost your memory, your magic, and were about to be killed.”
“Aye,” said Calliande. She pushed some of her hair away from her face, trying to phrase her thoughts. “But you got to know who I really am. Not just the Keeper.”
“The woman behind the mask,” said Ridmark.
“Yes,” said Calliande. She smiled. “That’s very poetic.”
“Surprisingly poetic, you mean?” said Ridmark, and Calliande laughed. “I cannot take credit. I heard it somewhere. Caius, probably. He always could turn a phrase.”
“Well,” said Calliande. “I’m pleased you knew the woman before she had to put the mask on once more.” A stray memory went through her mind. “And I’m also pleased you don’t think I’m a bishop.”
He l
ooked puzzled. “What?”
“When we were in the Vale of Stone Death,” said Calliande. “You said that kissing me would have been like kissing a bishop.”
“You remember wrong,” said Ridmark.
“I most certainly do not.”
“What I said was that kissing the Keeper of Andomhaim would have been like kissing a bishop, or the High Queen,” said Ridmark. He stepped closer to her. “As it happens, I was wrong.”
“Oh?” said Calliande. “Prove it.”
In answer he gripped her arms, pulled her close, and kissed her. Calliande wrapped her arms around his back, pressing herself against him. A warm flush went through her, and her heartbeat sounded like a drum in her chest. She and Ridmark had almost wound up sleeping together in Castra Durius, though they had stopped themselves at the last minute. He hadn’t been ready for it yet, though if Calliande was honest with herself, she had been ready for a long time. Then the Sculptor had almost killed her, and the Weaver had almost killed him.
Maybe Ridmark was ready now.
They broke apart, breathing hard, Calliande staring up at him. She started to draw breath to invite him into her tent, and then she heard someone shouting.
“Ridmark!” It was Tormark, calling from the fire. “Ridmark, a question!”
A bolt of aggravated frustration went through Calliande.
“Damn it,” muttered Ridmark.
“You should probably go,” said Calliande. “Knowing your brother, he won’t stop until he finds you.” For a moment fear gripped her, fear that Ridmark would talk himself out of kissing her again, but the intensity in his eyes put that fear to rest.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. He gave her another quick kiss. “But we’ll continue this conversation later.”
Calliande smiled. “We had better.”
Frostborn: Excalibur (Frostborn #13) Page 4
