Frostborn: The Dragon Knight (Frostborn #14)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Have any of the other scouting parties returned yet?” said Arandar.

  “Not yet, your Majesty,” said Sebastian. “They should start arriving tomorrow.”

  “They’ll be barely a day ahead of the Frostborn, then,” said Kors. “We’ll have to make a decision immediately.”

  “We will,” said Arandar. A thought occurred to him. “Dux Sebastian, did your men see any revenants among the enemy host?”

  Sebastian blinked. “Why…no, my lord King. They did not, now that you mention it. It seems a strange lack. Thousands of revenants would have been raised from Dun Calpurnia once we marched south.”

  “And thousands more raised from the fighting across the Northerland,” said Gareth in a grim voice. The people in his lands would have been raised as the undead servants of the Frostborn.

  “Then where are all these revenants?” said Arandar.

  “The forts along the Moradel, most likely,” said Leogrance. “The revenants are dangerous, yes, but they are limited as soldiers. Using them as garrison troops would be the wisest course.”

  “Or perhaps they are marching behind the main Frostborn force,” said Sebastian. “A second wave, as it were.”

  “If they are, that makes for poor tactics,” said Kors. He shook his gray-maned head. “The revenants are easier to replace than living soldiers. Better to use them as shock troops and to screen the more valuable forces. Using them as reserves is just wasteful.”

  “Maybe one of the other scouting parties will have more information,” said Leogrance. “Perhaps…” He broke off, a frown marring his patrician calm. “What are those men doing? They’re not supposed to gallop in the camp, not unless there is an emergency.”

  Arandar followed the old Dux’s gaze, and a saw a group of horsemen in the green tabards of the House of the Licinii galloping towards them.

  “Those are my men,” said Gareth. He straightened up. “Come to think of it, that is my son and Sir Gavin and Lady Antenora. Their patrol is back sooner than I expected.”

  “There’s a…girl with them?” said Sebastian, shading his eyes. “A short girl. She can’t be very old. She…”

  “That,” said Third, “is my sister.”

  Arandar looked at her in surprise. She was so quiet that he sometimes forgot that she was there.

  “Your sister?” said Arandar. “You mean Queen Mara?”

  Third almost smiled. “It is her.”

  Arandar looked at the horsemen, astonished. Queen Mara was here? Did that mean the Anathgrimm were coming to reinforce the host of Andomhaim? But Arandar saw no Anathgrimm among the riders. Mara had come alone? Had the Anathgrimm been destroyed? She would not have left them for any other reason.

  If the Anathgrimm had been destroyed, Andomhaim would likely be next.

  Yet the horsemen did not have the air of men coming to deliver bad news. They reined up, and Constantine, Gavin, and Antenora walked their horses forward, Mara following them. She smiled as she saw Arandar, and Arandar felt some of his own worries dissipate.

  Yes, this had to be good news.

  “Your Majesty,” said Constantine. “I beg forgiveness for returning sooner than planned, but we met Queen Mara of Nightmane Forest on our way, and she asked us to bring her to you. It would be discourteous to refuse so noble of a lady.”

  “Well,” said Arandar, “we don’t want the knights of Andomhaim to develop a name for discourtesy, do we? Well done, Sir Constantine, and well done all of you. Queen Mara, it is good to see you again.”

  “And you, High King of Andomhaim,” said Mara. “Tarrabus Carhaine did great harm to my husband and me, and I am very pleased that you brought him low at last.” She looked at Third. “And I am overjoyed to see you again, sister, and am pleased you have come through the battle unscathed.”

  Third did smile this time. “And I can say the same for you.”

  “Come with me, if you please,” said Arandar. “I think we have much to discuss.”

  ###

  They used Arandar’s map pavilion for the discussion, and it soon became quite crowded.

  Gavin squeezed into the corner, Antenora next to him. The Duxi soon arrived, as did the orcish kings, and the Masters of the Two Orders. Kharlacht and Caius and Camorak all arrived, and Mara hugged them in greeting. She might be a Queen now, but together they had braved the Iron Tower and Urd Morlemoch and Khald Azalar, and the bonds forged in such a fire were as strong as dwarven steel.

  “Before we begin,” said Arandar, “I must ask you first. How do my children fare?”

  “Well,” said Mara. “Prince Accolon has been serving as squire for both Lord Captain Qhazulak and Prince Consort Jager, and I fear he has received quite an education in warfare and the use of every manner of weapon. The Anathgrimm are enthusiastic if demanding teachers. Princess Nyvane has been serving as my lady-in-waiting, though I doubt she has enough to do. I need little care, and the Anathgrimm have no use for ceremony.”

  “Thank you for guarding them during this last year,” said Arandar. “I cannot tell you what a comfort it has been to know that they were in safe hands. But with Tarrabus brought low and the Enlightened destroyed, I think the time has come for them to rejoin me, or at least to return to Tarlion.”

  “I quite agree,” said Mara. “The Anathgrimm are a harsh kindred, and your son and daughter should be with their father and with their own kind. And they will need instruction about the ways of the lords and ladies and knights of Andomhaim. That, alas, is one thing that the Anathgrimm cannot teach. Though Jager has been trying. He has taken it upon himself to tutor the children in the proper ways of a noble court.”

  “God save us!” said Dux Kors. “We shall win the war, and the crown prince shall be as irreverent and sharp-tongued as Prince Jager.” The other lords laughed.

  “Well,” said Caius, “there are times when a little irreverence is a useful quality in a monarch. Not often, but sometimes. I doubt Tarrabus Carhaine ever laughed at himself.”

  “Likely not,” said Arandar. “Queen Mara, how fare the Anathgrimm?”

  Gavin listened as the High King of Andomhaim and the Queen of Nightmane Forest exchanged news. Since Ridmark had departed with Calliande, the Anathgrimm had continued his tactics of quick raids and attacks designed to throw the Frostborn off balance and bleed them behind their lines. At first, it had worked, but soon the Frostborn had been able to throw more and more numbers into the hills of the Northerland. More forces had come through the world gate, and the fall of Castra Marcaine had freed up a great many troops to be used against the Anathgrimm. As the Frostborn built their line of forts along the Moradel, the Anathgrimm had been left with no choice but to withdraw across the river.

  It took longer for Arandar to share his news because Caius and Gavin kept interjecting. They had accompanied Ridmark and Calliande to Bastoth and Khald Tormen and had seen the events there firsthand. Between them, Gavin and Caius told Mara what happened in the Three Kingdoms and the Range, and Arandar told her about the siege of Tarlion and the defeat of Tarrabus.

  Third told her about the Tower of the Keeper.

  “The sword of the Dragon Knight?” said Mara, blinking. “Truly?”

  Third shrugged. “We have no way of knowing for certain until the Keeper and the lord magister return. But that seems to be the only reasonable explanation of the facts.”

  “And Morigna’s spirit,” said Mara, shaking her head. “That would have been hard for him to see. Especially with Calliande. I wonder if he ever figured out what to do about her.”

  “In point of fact, he asked her to marry him a few moments before the gate in the Tower opened,” said Third.

  “Oh!” said Mara, her eyes going wide, a smile going over her face.

  “What?” said Caius, flabbergasted. Gavin had to admit that he was surprised. Then again, it made perfect sense in hindsight. He remembered interrupting Ridmark and Calliande's conversation on Smiling Otto’s barge and felt a flicker of retroactive embarrassment. Had he
interrupted more than their conversation? Still, it didn’t seem to matter now.

  “You didn’t mention this before,” said Arandar.

  Third shrugged. “There seemed no reason to mention it. The matter is their concern, not mine. But my sister charged me to look after the lord magister before we departed Nightmane Forest, and I believe that included the state of his mind and heart. So, I was obliged to report the betrothal.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” said Kors, snorting. “That makes perfect sense.”

  “We shall have to hold the wedding in Nightmane Forest,” said Mara. “You’ll conduct the rite, of course, Brother Caius. The Anathgrimm are not great cooks, but they do have remarkably potent liquor.” Mara seemed to catch herself, shook her head, and turned her attention back to Arandar. “But those are concerns for a happier hour, I fear.”

  “Yes,” said Arandar. “For now, we must prepare to reach that happier hour. The Frostborn are marching behind our patrols in the Northerland. We think they will reach Dun Calpurnia with the bulk of their forces within two days.”

  Mara frowned. “That is ill timing. The host of the Anathgrimm are three days away in northeastern Khaluusk on the other side of the river, and it will take us at least a day to cross the Moradel itself.”

  “Then it seems we must hold for that long,” said Arandar.

  “There is another piece of news,” said Mara. “Some of the Anathgrimm scouts encountered an advance scouting party from the dwarves of Khald Tormen. Fortunately, they didn’t kill each other on sight, and the dwarves will carry news back to their kings and lords. The dwarven host is several days further west in Khaluusk. I don’t know how far west they are – the scouting party would only report back when they encountered foes.”

  “I see,” said Arandar. He scowled at the map table for a moment, thinking.

  “Your arrival is most fortuitous, Queen Mara,” said Leogrance. “The army of Andomhaim was badly weakened by Tarrabus’s folly. Ten thousand Anathgrimm warriors would go a long way to evening the odds with the Frostborn.”

  “And fifty thousand dwarven soldiers as well,” said Mara.

  “My lords,” said Arandar, looking up from the table, “it seems that our course is decided. We must stand here and hold the town against the Frostborn. We must hold it until the Anathgrimm and the dwarves arrive to join the battle against the enemy. It is also possible the manetaurs may arrive at any day – Lord Ridmark and the Keeper visited them first, and they have had longer to prepare. If we march to engage the Frostborn in open battle, our enemies might destroy us before our allies can arrive. If we fall back, the Frostborn could destroy our allies one by one.”

  No one disagreed.

  “We will therefore hold the town until our allies join the attack,” said Arandar. “Queen Mara, under happier circumstances I would ask you to enjoy our hospitality this evening…”

  “But we must wait for those happier circumstances,” said Mara. “I will leave at once and return to the Anathgrimm as soon as possible.”

  “Should I accompany you, sister?” said Third.

  Mara hesitated and then shook her head. “No. They will need your help more than I will. As much as I would like you with me, I think your talents would be put to better use here. Keep them alive until I can return with the Anathgrimm.”

  Third inclined her head.

  “If you wish any food or supplies before you go, they are yours,” said Arandar.

  “Thank you,” said Mara.

  Arandar hesitated. “And…please give my greetings and my love to my children. Tell them that I shall see them soon.”

  Mara smiled. “I shall.” She bowed and stepped back from the table. “The Anathgrimm have been eager to come to grips with the foe, so I suppose they shall be glad of the news. We…”

  A sudden thought occurred to Gavin. They didn’t know what had been happening in the Northerland, but the Anathgrimm had been fighting there for a year.

  “Wait,” said Gavin. “Mara.” She was a Queen now, and he should probably call her that. “I mean, Queen Mara. Please wait a moment by your leave.”

  Mara smiled. “Once you’ve killed urvaalgs with someone, there’s no need to be formal.”

  Dux Kors snorted. “There’s God’s own truth.”

  “Those forts the Frostborn built along the river,” said Gavin. “What kind of soldiers are holding them?”

  “Medvarth and locusari, mostly,” said Mara. “The khaldjari did most of them work. They aren’t complicated constructions, just walls of earth and a watchtower of ice, but they are effective. Usually, a cogitaer or a khaldjari engineer is in command.”

  “But revenants,” said Gavin, and the lords shared a look. “Are there any revenants in the forts?”

  “No,” said Mara, an odd look coming over her face. “There are not.”

  “Then where are all the revenants?” said Gavin. “There were thousands of dead soldiers after the first battle here, and there must be thousands more from all the fighting in the Northerland. If they’re not in the forts, and they’re not marching south, where are they?”

  “That is a good question,” said Mara.

  “Perhaps we have been frightening ourselves,” said Prince Cadwall. “Maybe the Frostborn haven’t been raising the dead as revenants.”

  “No, they have,” said Mara. “Whenever they win a battle, they always raise the dead as revenants. Even when they lose, if they can withdraw in an orderly fashion they raise revenants to take with them. They must have thousands of the things by now…but now that you mention it, the Anathgrimm haven’t fought any of them in months.”

  “Then where are all the revenants?” said Arandar.

  Gavin suspected they would not like the answer when they found out.

  Chapter 13: Shadowbearer

  A cool, dry breeze blew from the depths of the cavern.

  Ridmark shared a look with Calliande, and together they stepped through the archway and into the cave, Ardrhythain striding before them. The cave looked little different than dozens of other caves that Ridmark had visited during his travels. The walls and floor and ceiling were rough rock, glittering crystals embedded in the stone here and there. Stalagmites grew from the floor, and stalactites hung from the ceiling like stone fangs. Despite the presence of the rock formations, the cave seemed dry. Dust rasped beneath Ridmark’s boots, and the cool wind blowing out of the depths of the earth didn’t carry a hint of moisture.

  “Do these caverns lead to the Deeps?” said Ridmark.

  “Eventually,” said Ardrhythain. The light from the archmage’s metal staff threw flashes of light from the crystalline chips embedded in the walls. “As you have guessed, this mountain was once a volcano, and molten rock carved a great maze of channels and caverns beneath the mountain, caverns that eventually joined the larger network of the Deeps themselves. When Cathair Solas was built, we located the entrance to the Deeps and sealed it with a gate warded in strong spells, and no one has ever successfully attacked the city from the Deeps.”

  “Tymandain Shadowbearer did, didn’t he?” said Calliande. There was wariness in her expression as she watched Ardrhythain. The discussion about the high elves’ threefold law had left her unsettled. Or maybe she was just frightened for Ridmark. He felt the cold clarity that marked a battle starting to descend on him, his fingers tight against the black staff.

  Because from what Calliande and Ardrhythain had said, it would be a battle to claim the sword of the Dragon Knight.

  Ridmark just wished he knew what kind of fight it was going to be. It was hard to prepare for battle without knowing the nature of the enemy.

  “Tymandain entered in stealth,” said Ardrhythain. “He came not to attack, but to steal, and he was successful.” The tunnel widened, and the pale glow from ahead brightened. “Here you can see where our present difficulties began.”

  The tunnel opened into a large cavern, and Ridmark looked around in astonishment.

  The walls and large portion
s of the floor were filled with soulstones.

  The cavern was as large as the nave of a cathedral, its floor covered in sand, its walls and ceiling rough. Massive formations of milky white crystals grew from the walls and the floor, and soulstones grew from them like fruit hanging from crystalline trees. Each of the soulstones gave off a pale, flickering glow. Ridmark took a few steps into the cavern, looking at the forest of crystals, and on the left and right saw side caverns opening from the main room.

  “There are so many of them,” said Calliande, looking around with wide eyes.

  “Yes,” said Ardrhythain. “Though not as many as once there were. Once there were miles and miles of caverns like this, where soulstones were grown with gentle care over the centuries. Now, this is the only one that remains.” He gestured at one of the side caverns as they passed. “In there grow another crop of soulstones intended for use in soulblades. Should we survive the dangers to come, in twenty years I will travel to Tarlion as part of the Pact of the Two Orders and forge another thousand soulblades for the Order of the Knights of the Soulblade.”

  “I saw a place like this once,” said Ridmark, remembering. “In the Qazaluuskan Forest. The halflings that call themselves the Hidden People know something of growing soulstones.”

  “Truly?” said Calliande, startled. “You never mentioned this.”

  Ridmark shrugged. “It never came up.”

  “The halflings of the Hidden People learned the art from the Jeweler, a lord of the dark elves,” said Ardrhythain.

  “I wonder why Shadowbearer did not just steal a soulstone from the Hidden People,” said Ridmark. “Surely it would have been easier to steal.”

  “Such soulstones as the Hidden People grow are not powerful enough to maintain a world gate,” said Ardrhythain. “The Jeweler himself only had some of the knowledge we possess here, and the Hidden People only retain a part of his lore. To open a world gate, Tymandain required a soulstone of the highest power.” He stopped and gestured at one of the crystal formations.