Frostborn: Excalibur (Frostborn #13)

by Jonathan Moeller

  Then the memory flooded through her with a jolt of emotion.

  It was the Tower of the Keeper, and it was one of the oldest structures in Tarlion. When the first High King had built his Citadel around the Tower of the Moon, he had also constructed the Tower of the Keeper, a place where the Keeper could store relics and books and lore too dangerous to be kept anywhere else, a place where the Keeper could train her apprentice in peace. Calliande had spent a great deal of time in the Tower of the Keeper with her predecessor, though after she had become Keeper she had never returned there…

  No, that was wrong. She had been there after the Frostborn had been defeated the first time.

  And she had removed her memory of the Tower of the Keeper.

  Puzzled and alarmed, she searched her new memories of the Tower, trying to find why she had used magic to remove it from her mind. She remembered almost everything about the Tower, save for the contents of the domed room at the top.

  There was something within that chamber that she had made herself forget.

  But what could possibly be so dangerous?

  Then a drumming sound filled her head, and Calliande glanced around, wondering if the host was calling itself to battle, and then cold dread went through her.

  It was the heartbeat again, and she was sure the noise was coming from within the highest chamber of the Tower of the Keeper.

  None of the others seemed to have heard the sound, but Ridmark was looking at her. He could hear it, just as she could.

  “Antenora,” said Calliande, her voice calm. “Does your Sight detect anything nearby? Anything magical?”

  Antenora’s yellow eyes shrank to slits as she concentrated. “No, Keeper. No dark magic. I see the power within you, the power in Gavin Swordbearer’s soulblade, and the spells upon the dwarven weapons that some of you bear. Nothing else.”

  Calliande nodded, and the heartbeat sound faded away.

  She felt Ridmark’s gaze upon her and shrugged. She didn’t know what was making that noise and why. She would not know unless she entered the Tower of the Keeper and looked for herself.

  And the only way to do that was to defeat Tarrabus Carhaine.

  Chapter 9: Prince Regent

  The waiting was starting to get to him, but Arandar could not let it show.

  He rode through the camp with Dux Sebastian and the chief Comites and knights of Caertigris. Part of Arandar wanted to order an attack now, to throw his entire host at Tarrabus’s army. With every second that ticked away, the Frostborn in the Northerland grew stronger.

  He wished there had been some news from Calliande. Arandar had realized that her argument rang true, that if they defeated Tarrabus, they would need allies to stand against the fury of the Frostborn, and they needed those allies sooner rather than later. Still, he wished that she had remained with his army. Her magic would have been invaluable against the dark forces the Enlightened of Incariel wielded. Perhaps she might have found a way to break the siege of Tarlion and drive back the forces of Tarrabus.

  He hoped her mission had been successful.

  It was possible that she had been killed, that he would never learn of her fate and the Frostborn might overrun Andomhaim.

  Arandar pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He was the Prince Regent, and he had to show confidence to his men.

  “You’ve done well, Dux Sebastian,” said Arandar. “Your men are prepared for battle.”

  The younger man shrugged, frowning at the horizon. “In truth, my lord, I’ve needed to do little. The men of Caertigris are accustomed to battle, and some of them have been fighting wars since before I was born. I need only to give them permission to do what was necessary, and they do it.”

  Arandar laughed. “Aye. That is the essence of command, I think. Find the men who know what needs to be done, and let them do it.”

  “What if they don’t know what to do?” said Sebastian. “Or if they want to do something other than what you want?”

  “Then command becomes challenging,” said Arandar.

  This time Sebastian laughed. “Indeed.”

  “When the time comes, you will be ready,” said Arandar. “Your men are ready. Once Tarrabus becomes desperate enough to attack, we will defeat him and reclaim Tarlion and reunify the realm.”

  “I hope you are right, my lord Prince,” said Sebastian. “I…” He frowned. “Someone approaches.”

  Arandar shaded his eyes as he looked to the east. A group of horsemen were riding towards him. His first thought was that messengers had come to find him with news. Had Tarrabus launched an attack? No, Arandar would have heard the sounds of battle and the alarm horns. He glimpsed Sir Joram among the riders, and thought that there was a problem with the supplies, and then saw Dux Gareth. Gareth Licinius would not trouble him for anything unimportant, and a flicker of alarm went through Arandar.

  Then he saw the blond woman riding amongst the horsemen, and Arandar’s fear turned into overpowering relief.

  “My lord?” said Sebastian. Arandar supposed he did not smile all that often.

  “We have some good news,” said Arandar. “It seems the Keeper has returned.”

  He reined up, and the Swordbearers and Magistri of his bodyguard came to a stop alongside him. Arandar waited, and Dux Gareth reined up a few yards away. Arandar spotted Calliande, Antenora, and Gavin amongst the Licinii men-at-arms, along with Sir Tormark Arban and Sir Tagrimn Volarus. There was also a black-haired woman that Arandar did not recognize, Brother Caius, and Kharlacht of Vhaluusk.

  Arandar blinked.

  Ridmark Arban was riding next to Calliande.

  For a moment, a surge of hope went through Arandar, and he wondered if his children would be with Ridmark, if he would see Accolon and Nyvane again after so long…

  Then his mind caught up with his heart, and disappointment rolled through him. Calliande had gone to Nightmane Forest to get Ridmark’s help, and the Gray Knight was a sensible man. Accolon was the heir to the throne of Andomhaim, and Ridmark would not take him into danger if he could avoid it.

  Then Arandar’s mind went a little further, and new hope bloomed within him.

  Calliande had returned, and she had Ridmark with her. Did that mean that she had been successful? Were the dwarves and the manetaurs marching to the aid of Queen Mara and the Anathgrimm?

  Calliande smiled, and Gavin grinned at Arandar.

  God and the saints, they had been successful!

  “Lord Prince,” said Gareth. “I am pleased to report that the Keeper has returned to us.”

  “So I observe,” said Arandar. “My lady Keeper, welcome back. I’m sorry our accommodations here are rough.”

  Calliande smiled. “I have seen rougher accommodations in the last few months, lord Prince.”

  “And how were your journeys?” said Arandar.

  “I regret to say that Sir Ector Naxius was killed fighting the dvargir at Regnum,” said Calliande. “He died bravely.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” said Sebastian. “He was a valiant knight and fought bravely for my father for many years.”

  “He died in battle, as did many of his men, but not in vain,” said Calliande. “Our mission was a success. Both the Red King Turcontar and King Axazamar of Khald Tormen are marching to aid the Anathgrimm. Once we have vanquished Tarrabus, we shall have allies ere we march against the Frostborn.”

  “God be praised,” said Arandar. “God be praised! That is the best news we have had for a long time. Come! You must tell me what happened. Dux Sebastian, could we use your pavilion?”

  “Of course, lord Prince,” said Sebastian. “This way.”

  ###

  Ridmark had a headache.

  He ignored it. The soulblade Heartwarden rested at Arandar’s belt, and Ridmark had carried it for years until Mhalek’s defeat and Aelia’s death. After that, his bond with the sword had been broken and standing in its presence caused him to suffer a headache.

  Touching the weapon caused him excruciating ago
ny, though that had not stopped him from driving the sword through Tymandain Shadowbearer’s corrupted heart.

  Ridmark followed the others into Sebastian’s pavilion.

  The men of Caertigris were traditionally great hunters, and Sebastian Aurelius shared their tastes. The pavilion was austere, with only a table and a few camp chairs. Wooden racks held the Dux’s armor and weapons, and Sebastian had a wide assortment of bows and crossbows and javelins. Like a good host, Sebastian gave the chairs to Arandar, Calliande, and Gareth, while Ridmark, Kharlacht, Caius, Third, Gavin, and Camorak stood around the table.

  It was a bit crowded.

  “Before we begin,” said Arandar, “I must ask a question.”

  “Of course,” said Calliande.

  Arandar smiled. “Not of you, my lady Keeper, but that shall come.” He looked at Ridmark. “How are my children?”

  “Well,” said Ridmark. “Both are still in Nightmane Forest. Accolon served well as my squire, and Nyvane as Queen Mara’s lady-in-waiting.” Queen Mara’s only lady-in-waiting, come to think of it. Mara needed very few people to look after her. “But I think they would both rather be here with you.”

  Arandar nodded. “We agree on that. But if the battle goes ill…Nightmane Forest shall be one of the last places to fall to the Frostborn.”

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. “But perhaps we’ll finish Tarrabus and drive the Frostborn back soon enough.”

  “Perhaps,” said Arandar. “What did Accolon do after you left?”

  “He is squiring for both Lord Captain Qhazulak…” started Ridmark.

  “Good,” said Arandar. “Qhazulak is a capable warrior.”

  “And for Prince Consort Jager,” finished Caius.

  “Prince Jager?” said Arandar. He and Jager had not gotten along at first, though their shared loathing of Tarrabus Carhaine had caused them to become friends in the end.

  Ridmark shrugged. “Jager made a lot of money as an honest merchant, though he was funded by the proceeds of his thievery. I imagine a High King needs to know how to handle money.”

  Arandar snorted. “That is God’s own truth. If this war doesn’t bankrupt the realm, the Frostborn will.”

  “Perhaps we can present the Frostborn with a bill against our losses,” said Caius.

  Kharlacht snorted. “Jager would. And he would get them to pay it, somehow.”

  Arandar waved a hand. “That would be welcome. But you did convince the dwarves and the manetaurs to aid us?”

  “Against the Frostborn,” said Calliande. “They are marching to aid the Anathgrimm. They will not help us against Tarrabus.”

  “Nor should they,” said Arandar, his face hardening. “Tarrabus Carhaine is our problem. For too long, the cancer of the Enlightened has festered within the realm of Andomhaim like a blight consuming a tree from the inside out.”

  “That was what Tymandain Shadowbearer intended,” said Calliande. “He founded the Enlightened among us for that exact purpose, that we would be weak and divided once he summoned the Frostborn back to this world.”

  “And the fools of the Enlightened do not even see the obvious,” said Arandar with a shake of his head. “They think to become gods with the shadow of Incariel. They do not even realize that they are the tools of Shadowbearer. Tarrabus and his ilk think they can conquer Andomhaim and then treat with the Frostborn as equals instead of being swept aside or enslaved. The Enlightened have sold their souls, and in return, they will receive nothing.”

  “That is the devil’s favorite bargain,” said Caius.

  “But we can discuss the battle later,” said Arandar. “Tell me of your travels.”

  He said it with calm assurance. Arandar had changed in the last year, Ridmark noted. Arandar had always been capable of taking command of a situation when necessary, but he had never put himself forward. Now that he was Prince Regent, that would have to change, and it had. A realm could have many lords and many powerful men, but in the end, there could be only one High King of Andomhaim.

  Calliande described their journeys, starting with Caradog Lordac and Nightmane Forest, and then the Range and Khald Tormen. She spoke of Red King Turcontar and Prince Kurdulkar, of the Sculptor and King Axazamar, and that final terrible battle in the Stone Heart when Ridmark faced off against the Weaver for the final time.

  “A bold deed, Lord Ridmark,” said Arandar. “And a worthy victory.”

  Ridmark shrugged. “I don’t remember most of it. I was sufficiently injured that the entire thing seems like a fever dream.”

  “But a worthy victory nonetheless,” said Arandar. “My father’s blood was on the hands of the Weaver, and the blood of many, many other victims besides. You have avenged the blood of the innocent at last.”

  “Thank you, lord Prince,” said Ridmark, thinking of Morigna.

  Arandar’s gaze turned back to Calliande. “And clearly it was the path of wisdom for you to go to Nightmane Forest first. I begrudged the necessary time, but it seems that without the help of Lord Ridmark and Lady Third, we would have met with disaster. Thank you both. And thank you, all of you who traveled with Calliande and saw her safely to the Range and Khald Tormen and back again. You have done a tremendous service for the realm of Andomhaim, and indeed the entire world if we are able to defeat the Frostborn.”

  “Greater credit lies with my companions than with me,” said Calliande, and Ridmark snorted with disagreement. “But before the realm can be saved, it must first be reunified so our full strength can be brought to bear against the Frostborn.”

  “And to do that,” said Arandar, “we must first rid ourselves of Tarrabus Carhaine and free the realm of the cancer of the Enlightened.”

  “Yes,” said Calliande.

  Arandar nodded. “By now, I am sure, you have seen our strategy. Tarrabus built his siege wall around Tarlion. When our army approached, rather than offer battle, his dvargir engineers and his slaves dug the contravallation wall. I considered storming it at once,” he nodded at Dux Gareth, “but Dux Gareth and Dux Leogrance convinced me that course was rash. So instead we built a siege wall of our own, and Tarrabus has been trapped within his own walls ever since, caught between our army and the walls of Tarlion.”

  “You are certain that Tarrabus has not been able to resupply himself?” said Ridmark, frowning. It seemed odd that Tarrabus would have let himself get caught like that. On the other hand, Tarrabus Carhaine had made more than one mistake in his bloody seizure of the crown, and he liked to add more complexity to his plans than was wise. Like many murderous usurpers before him, perhaps Tarrabus had discovered that wielding power was far harder than simply seizing it.

  “Entirely,” said Arandar. “He can’t get out by foot or horse. He cannot resupply himself by sea or river. Prince Cadwall’s ships are facing Dux Timon’s and Dux Verus’s ships outside of the harbor of Tarlion, and none of them have been able to do anything but glare at each other. The dvargir have tried to tunnel out of the camp several times, but not even the dvargir can dig without creating vibrations, and Dux Kors has some good siege engineers among his men. Every time we’ve collapsed the dvargirish mines and killed a few of them in the bargain.”

  “Tarrabus has to be getting desperate,” said Ridmark.

  “We’re sure of it,” said Arandar. “He’s been sending champions out to challenge us, and our men have been winning the duels. Sir Constantine just killed Sir Rhison Mordane a few days past, and Constantine defeated him so decisively that I thought the battle would begin then and there.”

  “Then you’ve backed the wolf into the corner,” said Caius, “and are waiting for him to grow desperate enough to attack.”

  “Aye, Brother Caius,” said Arandar. “We are waiting for him with spear, sword, catapult, ballista, and siege wall. Sooner or later Tarrabus will have no choice but to attack, whether our wall or the walls of Tarlion. And when he does, we will strike with everything we have.”

  “A sound strategy,” said Ridmark. Given that both Arandar and Tarrabus
almost certainly had equal amounts of men, it was probably the best possible strategy, and one that made the best use of the strengths of Arandar’s supporters. More lords had sworn to Arandar’s banner, along with the three orcish kings and the Two Orders, but Caerdracon, Calvus, Arduran and Tarras were the populous heartlands of Andomhaim. An open battle between two equal armies could end in catastrophe. Better to weaken Tarrabus as much as possible before the day of battle.

  And yet…

  “What about this dragon?” said Ridmark.

  Arandar spread his hands. “I was hoping the Keeper would know.”

  “Dragons have been extinct in this world for millennia,” said Calliande. “My best guess is that Tarrabus somehow used the shadow of Incariel to mutate and enslave a wyvern, the way the dark elves used their power to mutate and enslave natural creatures to make their urvaalgs and ursaars.”

  Having met the dark elven lord who had created the urvaalgs, Ridmark doubted it. The Sculptor had been mad, but he had been an unequaled genius in his own twisted way, and Ridmark doubted there was anyone of similar brilliance among the Enlightened.

  “Perhaps it is another Enlightened like the Weaver,” said Caius. “Lord Ridmark burned the Weaver in Khald Tormen, but maybe another Enlightened gained the power to change shape.”

  “I hope not,” said Arandar. “One Weaver caused enough harm. We certainly do not need to contend with a second. Keeper, you have heard our strategy, but those plans were made under the assumption that we would have to go to battle without your magic to aid us.”

  “It may be possible to prepare a different plan of battle, my lord Prince,” said Calliande. “There are several things I could do to change the course of the battle in our favor.”

  Arandar nodded. “I wish to hold a council of war with the Duxi tonight. Keeper, lord magister, I would be pleased if you both could attend. Perhaps together we can find a way to defeat Tarrabus and bring a reunited Andomhaim to the aid of our allies against the Frostborn.”