Frostborn: The Dragon Knight (Frostborn #14)

by Jonathan Moeller

  She sat on a fallen log, and he sat next to her, looking down the slope of the forest. They had come far enough that the rippling gray waters of the lake were no longer visible.

  “Is Cathair Solas atop a mountain?” said Ridmark.

  “No,” said Calliande. “Well. Not exactly. It’s in a caldera.”

  “Caldera?” said Ridmark. He didn’t know the word.

  Calliande waved a hand at the trees. “From what I understand, this entire island used to be a giant volcano. At some point, it had an eruption that drained all the molten stone from inside the mountain, and its slopes collapsed into the resultant cavity. That left a huge crater, miles across from rim to rim. Eventually, a lake filled most of the crater, and Cathair Solas was built on the island in the center of the crater.” She considered for a moment. “An odd place for a city, really.”

  “Defensible, though,” said Ridmark. “An army would have to cross the Lake of Ice, scale the slopes of the caldera, and then sail across the lake before an assault could even begin.”

  “I suppose that is part of the reason Cathair Solas has never fallen,” said Calliande.

  “There must have been many battles here,” said Ridmark.

  “Oh, yes,” said Calliande. “Thousands of them for thousands of years. Cathair Solas, as far as I know, is the last stronghold of the high elves on this world. The dark elves besieged it for millennia, and after the urdmordar enslaved the dark elves, they continued the siege for just as long. I suppose that was why Andomhaim was able to survive until the foundation of the Two Orders. The urdmordar ruled everything north of the Mountains of Ice, and for all that I know, they still do. Cathair Solas kept them from advancing any further south. The lands that would become Andomhaim were ruled by a patchwork of exiles fleeing from the urdmordar – the Traveler, the Sculptor, the Nightcrowned King, and various orcish warlocks. It was only when the urdmordar decided to circle around Cathair Solas and head south that humans encountered them for the first time, and you know the rest.”

  “A hundred thousand years of war,” said Ridmark, gazing into the forest.

  “Hmm?” said Calliande.

  “That was what the Warden said when he fought Ardrhythain,” said Ridmark. “And when we fought Tymandain Shadowbearer, he said the same thing. A hundred thousand years of war with the shadow of Incariel, and we’re at the last chapter of it.”

  They sat in silence for a while.

  “The shadow of Incariel,” said Calliande. “Shadowbearer corrupted the dark elves and brought the urdmordar here, just as he brought the Frostborn. Why, though?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ridmark. “It troubles me that we don’t know. Perhaps when we see Imaria again we can ask her.”

  Calliande gave him a sharp look. “If we succeed here…you’re going after her?” He understood her concern. He had almost gotten himself killed trying to kill Imaria in the burning ruins of Dun Licinia’s keep.

  “I won’t need to,” said Ridmark. “She will come after us again. You know she will. She hates both of us, and she’s the new Shadowbearer. Whatever the shadow of Incariel desires, we’re in its way. Which means she has every reason to kill us, both for her own satisfaction and because we’re in the way of whatever the shadow of Incariel wants.” His voice hardened. “But if she comes for us once I have the sword of the Dragon Knight, then she won’t get away to work more evil. Not this time.”

  “Yes,” said Calliande. He caught the dread that flickered through her expression. He knew full well that trying to wield the sword of the Dragon Knight would be dangerous, but Ridmark did not see any other choice. They might need the sword to overcome the Frostborn, and it seemed that the sword had, for whatever reason, chosen him.

  Ridmark would do what he needed to do or die trying.

  He supposed it was little different than many other things he had done.

  Except this time, he didn’t want to die.

  Before, he had not cared whether he had lived or died, but now he wanted to survive. He knew firsthand what the pain of his death would do to Calliande, and he did not want her to experience that as he had.

  “What?” said Calliande. “What is it?”

  Ridmark realized that he had been staring at her.

  He took her free hand, leaned over, and gave her a quick kiss.

  Calliande smiled at him and then laughed. “What was that for?”

  “Why would I need a reason?” said Ridmark.

  “I like that line of argument.” She kissed him again. “And as pleasant as this is, we should probably keep moving. If we can find a deer or a turkey to shoot for dinner, that would be a good thing as well.”

  “Agreed,” said Ridmark.

  He got to his feet, as did Calliande, and they resumed their climb. As before, Calliande used her Sight to sweep the trees for any undead and creatures of dark magic, and twice she steered them past bands of undead warriors and once around a pack of urvaalgs. The ground began to level off, and they made better progress, though they were still going uphill.

  Then Ridmark caught a flash of crimson through the trees ahead.

  “Wait a moment,” he murmured, and Calliande nodded, the staff of the Keeper held ready before her.

  A ruined orcish tower stood on the hillside ahead, surrounded by a round wall of loose stone. The tower looked old, its sides covered in moss, and the wall was in the slow process of collapsing. Through the hole in the wall where the gate had once been, Ridmark glimpsed something the color of blood.

  It looked almost exactly like the chitinous armor of an urdmordar’s exoskeleton. That was bad. Calliande might be able to defeat a single urdmordar with her magic, but it would be a close thing.

  “Urdmordar,” said Calliande in a quiet voice.

  “Do you see any dark magic in the ruin?” said Ridmark.

  Calliande blinked several times, frowning as she focused the Sight. “No, nothing. Even male urdmordar have a powerful aura of dark magic. If there is an urdmordar there, it has hidden itself quite well.”

  Ridmark nodded and crept forward, the staff of Ardrhythain held ready before him. Step by step he moved closer, the staff ready, and circled to the left and peered into the courtyard.

  There was an urdmordar squatting there, a female urdmordar. The creature looked like a giant spider with a human woman’s torso rising from its abdomen in place of a spider’s head. Plates of overlapping crimson chitin covered the creature’s entire body, its legs like giant spears, and long claws topped the fingers of its human-like arms. The female urdmordar that Ridmark had fought in the past had eyes that glowed with harsh white light, but this urdmordar’s eyes were closed, and the creature was motionless.

  Utterly motionless, in fact, and a layer of fallen leaves lay atop it.

  Ridmark eased forward a few more steps and rapped his staff on the urdmordar’s side. The staff made a loud tapping noise, and the urdmordar’s flank felt as hard as granite.

  Yet the creature did not move, and Ridmark saw the blackened craters on the back of its human-like torso.

  “I think it’s dead,” he said.

  “It is,” said Calliande, joining him. She rapped the end of her staff on the side of the urdmordar. “And for a long time. It’s been dead for so long its carapace has petrified. Turned to stone.”

  “I didn’t know they did that,” said Ridmark.

  Calliande smiled. “You killed three female urdmordar, and you didn’t know that?”

  “Two female urdmordar,” said Ridmark. “Gothalinzur and Agrimnalazur. Arandar and Gavin killed Rhogrimnalazur. I just helped.”

  “Three urdmordar,” said Calliande. “There was that male urdmordar under Urd Arowyn.”

  Ridmark grunted. “I had forgotten about that one. And after I killed the urdmordar, I didn’t stay long enough to see if their carapaces turned to stone.”

  “Just as well,” said Calliande. “I think the process takes thousands of years. This one has been here for nearly as long.”

>   “Let’s keep going,” said Ridmark. “It’s no threat to us. Pity we can’t…”

  Calliande froze, her eyelids fluttering, and then her blue eyes opened wide with alarm. Ridmark knew what that meant. The Sight had stirred to life within her.

  There was a creature of dark magic nearby.

  “Ridmark!” she said. “Foes approach!” She called her magic, the staff of the Keeper shining with white fire in her right hand. Ridmark stepped in front of her, staff raised, his eyes sweeping the courtyard for any sign of danger. The courtyard was overgrown with grass and ferns and small bushes, which offered plenty of places for an urvaalg or perhaps an urhaalgar or an urshane to hide.

  A black shadow passed overhead.

  Ridmark looked up just as the urdhracos landed on the rim of the broken tower, her wings spread behind her like black sails.

  ###

  Calliande held her power ready, preparing to strike at the urdhracos.

  The creature looked sleek and beautiful in a deadly sort of way. Overlapping plates of black armor fitted close to her slim body, and her face was pale and lovely, though her eyes were filled with the black void of the shadow of Incariel. A powerful aura of dark magic hung around the creature. This urdhracos was an old one, and unlike many of the other creatures of the dark elves, the urdhracosi could use magic.

  Yet for a moment, the urdhracos had done nothing threatening. The creature merely regarded them, the black eyes unblinking, and then at last the urdhracos smiled.

  “Do you like my statue?” she said in the orcish tongue, her voice inhumanly melodious.

  “Statue?” said Ridmark, and he glanced at the petrified urdmordar carcass. “This is yours?”

  “Does it belong to anyone?” said the urdhracos. “It used to belong to an urdmordar. A long time ago, that urdmordar enslaved my master and his creatures, and all my master’s creatures went with him to make war upon the high elves. But the high elves slew both my master and his master, and we were free to do as we wished. My master’s bones still wander the forest somewhere, if you care to seek for them.” She let out a tittering laugh. “He sought to rule the world, but now he is not even the master of his own flesh, for it has all rotted away over the centuries.”

  “How unfortunate for him,” said Ridmark.

  Calliande watched the urdhracos with both her eyes of flesh and the Sight. The urdhracos did not seem entirely sane, but she knew that would not put the creature at a disadvantage. An urdhracos could not have survived for this long by taking foolish risks.

  “Yes,” said the urdhracos. “It really was.” Her wings flapped behind her a few times. Calliande wondered if the urdhracos would take flight, but the creature remained in place, one hand gripping the lip of the stone tower for balance. “You are humans, yes? Both of you?”

  “We are,” said Ridmark.

  “Interesting,” said the urdhracos, tilting her head to the side as she considered them. Third often did that when she was deep in thought, and it was eerie to see the same mannerism in an urdhracos. “Interesting. I have not seen humans upon this island for two hundred and twenty years. Or close to it. It is so hard to keep track of the time.”

  That would have been about the time Calliande had been here with Kalomarus and the six doomed Swordbearers. Had the urdhracos watched them from afar? She and the knights had fought several battles with the undead and the urvaalgs infesting the island, but they had not fought an urdhracos that Calliande could remember.

  “We did not know that this tower was yours,” said Ridmark. “We can be on our way immediately and will trouble you no further.”

  A flicker went through the Sight. Calliande took a quick glance around and saw that six rippling forms were circling around the outer wall, making for the courtyard.

  “Urvaalgs,” she hissed to Ridmark. “Six of them.”

  Ridmark gave her a shallow nod, eyes still fixed on the urdhracos.

  “You were here, the last time, the female,” said the urdhracos, the void-filled eyes fixing on Calliande. “The last time the sword sent out its call.”

  “Its call?” said Calliande, surprised that the urdhracos knew about the sword of the Dragon Knight.

  “It is why you are here, of course,” said the urdhracos. “It is why you were here the last time. You brought seven knights with you, and burned through six of them to make a new Dragon Knight like in the days of old when the world was young.” She clucked her tongue and sounded for all the world like a village girl disapproving of scandalous misbehavior. “Now you have brought only one knight, and the sword will consume him. Very sad. Fortunately, I am merciful.”

  “You are?” said Ridmark, lifting his staff.

  Calliande took a deep breath, focusing her will as she gathered her power for a spell.

  “Yes,” said the urdhracos. “The female loves you, do you not see? So I shall be merciful, and spare her the torment of watching the sword devour you. My hounds are hungry, and I shall be merciful and soothe their hunger. Truly, am I not overflowing with mercy?”

  She gestured with her free hand, blue fire blazing to life around her talons, and the urvaalgs appeared, bounding over the crumbling wall with mighty leaps.

  Calliande reacted first, slamming the end of her staff against the ground and releasing the power that she had summoned. A ring of white fire erupted in all directions from the end of the staff, rolling across the ground of the courtyard. The white fire struck the urvaalgs and set them rocking back, the creatures screaming as the fire sizzled against their flesh. Calliande had not been able to work a lethal amount of force into the spell, not with the power divided against so many targets, but the spell did hurt and stun the urvaalgs for an instant.

  An instant was all that Ridmark ever needed.

  He moved so fast it seemed like a blur, the dwarven war axe leaping from his belt and into his hand. Ridmark struck, killing one of the urvaalgs with a blow to the head, and then killed a second before the creatures could recover. The urdhracos thrust her hand, the blue fire of a spell of dark magic leaping from her talons, and Calliande worked a hasty ward, a shimmering dome of white light appearing before her. The urdhracos was strong, but not strong enough to stand against the power of the Keeper’s mantle, and the spell shattered in a spray of blue sparks.

  The surviving four urvaalgs closed around Ridmark, and Calliande cast again, working a simple spell of earth magic. The ground folded and rippled like a banner caught in the wind, and the spell knocked the urvaalgs over. Ridmark seized the opportunity and killed another creature, even as the urdhracos launched another spell. Again Calliande deflected the blast of dark magic.

  She started to cast another spell to aid Ridmark but held off. Ridmark was holding his own against the three urvaalgs. Her ring of white fire had burned the creatures, slowing their reactions, and Ridmark was driving them back. She thought he could kill all three of them without her help, but he would not be able to defend against the dark magic of the urdhracos. Calliande called elemental fire, infusing it with the power of the Keeper, and flung a shaft of flames against the tower. She might have lacked Antenora’s precise skill, but she made up for it with power, and the bar of fire ripped across the top of the ruins. The urdhracos let out a shriek of pain and fury and flung herself out of the way, her wings opening as she clawed into the air to get away from the flames.

  Calliande looked back at Ridmark, but he had killed two urvaalgs in the time that it had taken her to throw the fire at the urdhracos, and the final creature was retreating as he attacked with axe and staff. She snapped her attention back towards the sky and sent another bolt of white fire blurring towards the urdhracos. The fire of the Well could consume creatures of dark magic, and the urdhracos recognized the danger, banking in midair to avoid the spell. The urdhracos swooped overhead as Ridmark killed the last urvaalg and clung to the side of the tower, her black talons gripping the weathered masonry.

  “Remember!” said the urdhracos. “I tried to be merciful! Remember
that when you watch the sword devour his heart in flames.”

  Calliande started another spell, but the urdhracos kicked off from the wall and leaped into the air, wings opening wide. She flew away to the west and did not return. Calliande swept the Sight over the ruined tower and courtyard once more, but no saw no signs of any other foes approaching.

  She let out a long breath, releasing the Sight.

  “Friend of yours?” said Ridmark, cleaning the black slime of the urvaalgs’ blood from his axe.

  “I’ve never seen her before,” said Calliande. “At least, I don’t think I have. Likely she followed me and Kalomarus and the others from afar the last time, and decided not to risk a confrontation since we had Swordbearers in our midst.”

  “But a man and a woman traveling alone,” said Ridmark, “makes for an easier target than a woman traveling with several Swordbearers.”

  “Aye,” said Calliande. She hesitated. “Ridmark…what she said about the sword…”

  “Taunts and nothing more,” said Ridmark. He returned his axe to his belt and picked up his staff.

  “But taunts,” said Calliande in a quiet voice, “with some truth to them, I fear.”

  “Perhaps,” said Ridmark, “but the best lies are mixed with the truth. You led those knights here, but you didn’t force them to follow you. They volunteered. Just as I am.”

  Calliande swallowed but made herself nod. That didn’t make her feel any better. Kalomarus and the others had chosen to follow her to this place. The difference was while that she had admired and respected them, she hadn’t been in love with any of them.

  She was in love with Ridmark, and she feared what would happen when he found the sword of the Dragon Knight.

  But he was right. There was nothing to do but to continue on.

  “We should keep moving,” said Ridmark, “and find a more defensible place before the sun goes down.”

  “Yes,” said Calliande.

  They left the ruined tower. Calliande drew on the Sight every few minutes, seeking for enemies.

  She saw none, but her dread did not abate.