Frostborn: The Dragon Knight (Frostborn #14)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “I doubt that would work here,” said Prince Cadwall. “We were already on our guard, and the gatehouses are fully manned.”

  “Why are they only assaulting the northern wall?” said Sebastian. “They have enough soldiers to completely surround the town and assault from all four directions at once.”

  Arandar frowned. That was a good question.

  “Perhaps the terrain isn’t viable,” said Leogrance. “To the west, there is not much land between here and the River Moradel. To the east, there is not much space before the hills and the forests of the Northerland. Either direction does not offer much room for a large army to maneuver. North and south are the best directions for attacking Dun Calpurnia, and to attack us from the south, the Frostborn would first have to get past the town.”

  That made sense. The Frostborn couldn’t attack from the south until they had gotten past the town.

  And yet…

  They could have made this probing attack far more forceful. They could have sent waves of medvarth behind the locusari or had the locusari scouts and the frost drakes attack from above. Or they could have started hammering at the walls with powerful spells. The Frostborn had to know that allies were coming to aid the men of Andomhaim.

  Yet the Frostborn were holding back. Why?

  ###

  Another locusari warrior sprang at Gavin, and he pushed with his shield, catching the serrated forelimbs against the dwarven steel. The metal let out an angry shriek the locusari’s forelimbs grated against the metal, and Gavin shoved. The locusari stumbled back, legs clicking against the battlements, and Caius smashed its head with a blow of his mace. The creature shuddered and went still, and Kharlacht kicked it off the ramparts to clear his path as he attacked another of the warriors.

  Up and down the northern wall the battle raged, the locusari scrambling up the frozen poles. Nearly all the original poles had been shattered by axe blows or burned away from the walls by Antenora’s magic, but the teams of medvarth had charged again, placing new poles against the ramparts. Gavin supposed the khaldjari could turn out hundreds of the damned things before their strength gave out.

  Maybe they hoped to wear down the men of Andomhaim through sheer attrition.

  Yet it didn’t seem to be working. The locusari had inflicted casualties, but there were far, far more dead locusari on the ground and on the ramparts than dead humans. Gavin looked around, ready to aid Kharlacht and the others defending the Magistri and Antenora, but Antenora had already burned the frozen pole from the side of the wall, and another had not come to take its place.

  “They have not even sent the frost drakes to attack,” said Kurastus. The old Magistrius sounded confused, and Gavin could not blame him. The frost drakes remained circling over the Frostborn army, and they had not once descended close enough to attack or to expose themselves to missiles from the wall.

  “Likely they are waiting,” said Antenora.

  “But waiting for what?” said Gavin.

  “A spell to be finished,” said Antenora, staring to the north.

  Kurastus gave her a sharp look. “You sense that as well?”

  “The Sight shows it to me,” said Antenora. “The Frostborn are gathering a tremendous amount of magical power behind their army. It looks as if most of them, and most of the cogitaers, are putting their power into the spell.”

  “We must warn the High King,” said Gavin.

  “Likely he already knows,” said Camorak, flexing his fingers. “Any Magistrius near the High King will be able to sense it. I’m not much of a Magistrius, and I can still sense the damned spell.”

  “Can you tell what it will do?” said Caius.

  “No,” said Antenora, “save that it is not targeted at the town. Were it targeted at the town, I might be able to discern its purpose, but…” She gave an irritated shake of her head. “Until it is cast, I can only guess at its design.”

  “Are they raising more revenants?” said Gavin.

  “There weren’t enough corpses near the town for them to raise as revenants,” said Camorak. “At least, not yet. Suppose they could be trying to raise all those dead locusari.”

  Antenora shook her head. “Then the spell would be targeted at the town.”

  “If it is not directed at the town,” said Master Kurastus, “then we must hold our powers in reserve until they are needed. Not that we could do anything to stop them at this distance anyway. Not even the Keeper could strike that far unless she had a few hours to prepare first.”

  “They’re coming again,” said Kharlacht, cutting the discussion short.

  Only a few of the icy poles were left, and the defenders were forcing back the remaining locusari step by step. Yet another wave of medvarth was coming towards the walls, shields raised to protect themselves, and Gavin expected to see more columns of locusari following them.

  Except these medvarth were heavily armored in chain mail and plate, their ursine features hidden beneath heavy helms. Gavin realized that the first wave of medvarth were not carrying more poles of ice but massive siege ladders, their tops crowned with iron claws to grasp the battlements.

  “It seems the khaldjari found the time both to fashion the poles of ice and to assemble proper siege ladders,” said Third. “I will inform the High King.”

  She vanished again in a flare of blue fire.

  “There are at least twenty ladders,” said Kharlacht. “Maybe thirty. They’ll be able to hit the entire northern wall at once.”

  Gavin half-expected to see the khaldjari moving siege engines ahead to support the medvarth or for the frost drakes and the locusari scouts to attack, but the siege engines behind the Frostborn lines were not moving, and the frost drakes remained well out of reach.

  What were they waiting for?

  ###

  Arandar heard the shout just as he reached the roof of the tavern.

  It was impossible to see the progress of the battle from the forum, and with the medvarth launching a major assault, Arandar needed to see what was happening. One of the taverns near the northern forum was a tall building of four levels, and its roof was higher than the level of the northern wall. Arandar and his guards had ascended to the rooftop, and could now watch the unfolding attack from a relatively secure vantage point.

  He did not like what he saw.

  The catapults released and the crossbowmen fired, sending stones and bolts hurtling towards the medvarth with the siege ladders. Two of the columns of medvarth warriors went down, pierced by concentrated crossbow fire, and dropped their ladders. Two more died when catapult stones landed in their midst, the ladders smashed by the heavy stones. The rest kept advancing, preparing to throw their ladders against the walls.

  “Dux Gareth,” said Arandar. Gareth had the overall command of the infantry, as he had during the battle of Tarlion. “Have our reserve companies ready. I fear we may need to rotate the men upon the walls very soon.”

  Gareth nodded, his gray beard stirring in the wind coming down from the north. “The medvarth are fierce fighters.”

  “They are,” said Arandar, frowning. The wind from the north had gotten stronger, and he could just glimpse a flickering blue glow as the Frostborn worked their spell.

  Whatever it was.

  The crossbowmen and the catapults managed to stop about half of the ladders. The other half of the siege ladders crashed against the ramparts with ringing clangs, the iron hooks gripping the stone battlements.

  With a roar, the medvarth surged towards the ladders, and the fighting began in earnest.

  ###

  Gavin shouted and stabbed with Truthseeker, the blade plunging beneath the medvarth warrior’s arm. The hulking warrior wore a cuirass and a skirt of chain mail, bracers and shoulder plates affixed to its thick arms. It held an axe over its head, ready to bring the weapon down upon its foes. Gavin twisted Truthseeker, ripped the blade free, and stabbed again.

  This time the medvarth warrior collapsed and did not rise again.

  Tw
o more rushed to take its place.

  Antenora killed one with a quick blast of magical fire that scoured the fur and flesh from its skull. Kharlacht and Caius slew the second one. Caius’s mace landed on the medvarth’s right knee with a crunch, shattering the bone, and as the medvarth stumbled, Kharlacht’s greatsword came down on the back of the creature’s neck.

  It fell, hit the edge of rampart, and rolled into the town below.

  Gavin stepped back, breathing hard, and saw that for the moment the section of wall was clear.

  “The ladder, quickly!” he shouted. “Quickly!”

  Three men-at-arms heard his call and rushed to the nearest ladder. The blasted iron hooks made it a challenge to push the ladders away from the wall. Fortunately, the men-at-arms had axes, and they began hammering away at the sides of the ladder, severing the hooks. Another medvarth warrior started to pull itself over the top of the ladder, but Gavin killed it with a stab to the neck, sending its armored body tumbling to the ground below. He stared at the ladder and saw three more medvarth rushing towards its base. Just a little longer…

  The last hook snapped free, and the ladder shuddered.

  “Now!” said Gavin, and he and the three men-at-arms seized the ladder and pushed. It overbalanced and fell backward, knocking the medvarth back, and for a moment their section of wall was clear.

  But more were coming. Three more columns of medvarth ran towards the gate, carrying ladders between them. Antenora stepped to the ramparts and thrust her staff, and a sphere of fire soared across the distance and exploded amid a medvarth column. The medvarth warriors scattered, trying to put out the flames that chewed at their fur, their ladder burning.

  The other two ladders reached the wall, and with roars of rage, the medvarth began climbing, their weapons in hand.

  Gavin fought for his life, Truthseeker burning as the soulblade rose and fell.

  ###

  Arandar watched the fighting, trying to make sense of the chaos of the battle.

  The medvarth attacked with far more fury and skill than the locusari warriors, and bloody fighting raged along the entire length of the northern wall. Twice now Gareth had been forced to rotate reserve companies to the battlements, bringing in reinforcements to close a breach. Yet the men of Andomhaim were still holding and were even throwing down the siege ladders one by one. The Frostborn could not sustain this rate of attack forever, especially if their siege engines and frost drakes did not join the fray. Sooner or later they would have to fall back to regroup and prepare for another assault, and that would give the men of Andomhaim time to rest and recover…and more time for their allies to arrive.

  So why were the Frostborn fighting with one hand behind their back?

  Another siege ladder was thrown back from the ramparts, falling with a crash to the increasingly blood-soaked ground.

  Perhaps the Frostborn feared the Keeper was here and was preparing a great spell to direct against them. She had beaten them once before, centuries ago, and they would be wary of her magic. Yet for all her power, even Calliande’s magic would not be enough to turn back the Frostborn if they came in full force.

  “Those siege engines are moving,” said Dux Sebastian, shading his eyes.

  “Where?” said Arandar.

  “There, along the riverbank,” said Sebastian, pointing. Arandar could just barely glimpse the distant movement, so he decided to take Sebastian’s word for it. “It looks like…trebuchets, I think.”

  “Why along the riverbank?” said Arandar. “If they set up there, even a trebuchet wouldn’t have the range to hit the walls. For that matter, there isn’t enough level ground to use a trebuchet there, and if they get any closer, they will be within range of our own engines.”

  “I do not know, your Majesty,” said Sebastian, and he heard the bafflement in the Dux’s voice. “The enemy’s strategy does not make sense.”

  “No, it makes sense,” said Leogrance, his voice grimmer than usual. “The Frostborn have their reasons. We simply do not know what those reasons are. We must discern them before it is too late.”

  “Yes,” said Arandar. The memory of Morigna’s spirit flashed through his mind. She had warned him that the Frostborn had set a trap for Andomhaim. But how? Arandar could not see it. As far as the scouts had been able to determine, the Frostborn had concentrated for the attack on Dun Calpurnia. There were no other Frostborn armies nearby, save for the second force marching down the Moradel road, but that was still several days away.

  Though they never had figured out what had happened to those revenants.

  And the Frostborn were still casting that mighty spell outside the walls.

  Arandar gritted his teeth, trying to keep the unease from his face. Was this how Tarrabus had felt, he wondered, watching Arandar and the loyalists build their siege wall outside of Tarrabus’s own walls? Had Tarrabus questioned himself as much as Arandar?

  Still, Tarrabus likely had never questioned himself about anything.

  “More medvarth and siege ladders,” said Sebastian. “God and the saints. I think there might be another forty of those ladders heading towards us. The khaldjari have been busy.”

  Leogrance nodded. “Perhaps the entire purpose of the attack was to soften us up for this moment.”

  Arandar frowned. “If it was, it was a wasted effort. Even with forty ladders, that many medvarth can’t climb the ramparts at once. Thousands of them will die from our crossbowmen and our siege engines. They won’t even have to aim. We’ll…”

  He broke off as a commotion in the forum below caught his attention. Men in the colors of Dux Sebastian were running towards the tavern, alarm on their faces.

  “Sebastian?” said Arandar.

  “Those men,” said Sebastian. “I posted them on the western wall in case the Frostborn tried to send a small force to surprise us. I…”

  Blue fire swirled on the roof next to Arandar, and Third stepped out of the air, her expression grimmer than usual.

  “High King,” she said. “You had best come to the western wall at once. You will wish to see this with your own eyes.”

  ###

  Up and down the northern wall of Dun Calpurnia the fighting raged, and Gavin fought in the heart of it.

  He had lost count of how many medvarth warriors he had killed, and his arm ran red with blood. Again and again, he and the other Swordbearers rushed into the deadliest fighting, driving back the medvarth and helping the men-at-arms throw down their siege ladders.

  The medvarth had gotten dozens of ladders to the wall, and now they poured up to storm the ramparts. The bloodshed had been tremendous, and the medvarth had taken the worst of it. Perhaps thousands of the creatures lay dead upon the ground, torn by sword and axe and spear. Yet more of the medvarth charged towards Dun Calpurnia, and there seemed to be a never-ending tide of them.

  It was madness. The Frostborn had always been cunning. Yet now they were throwing away medvarth warriors by the thousands, flinging them against the walls of Dun Calpurnia to die in droves. Every man on the wall was engaged with the medvarth, but they were holding. If the Frostborn kept this up, they would break their army against the walls of Dun Calpurnia.

  Gavin cut down another medvarth. The creature’s carcass fell towards him, and he twisted out of the way. The dead medvarth fell from the ramparts and landed in the town below, joining the others already scattered across the ground. Maybe that was the stratagem of the Frostborn. Maybe they planned to let the men of Andomhaim slaughter thousands of medvarth warriors, and then raise them as revenants. But that wouldn’t work. If the Frostborn tried that, the Magistri would collapse their spell.

  If he had time to think about it, it would have worried him, but Gavin’s full attention turned to remaining alive.

  He fought alongside Kharlacht and Caius, as he had a hundred times before. Antenora stood behind them, flinging blasts of fire at the medvarth whenever an opening presented itself. The Magistri stood behind her, guarded by the Swordbearers and men
-at-arms battling the medvarth. Since the Frostborn had not used any magic, there had been no need for them to cast wards, and so instead they turned their magic to the aid of the men-at-arms. Some of them cast spells to make the men-at-arms stronger or faster, and others used their healing magic when the soldiers took wounds. Camorak had healed Gavin of minor wounds twice, and Kharlacht once. Somehow Caius had not yet been touched. Perhaps he was too short for the medvarth to consider a threat.

  Gavin killed another medvarth, ripping Truthseeker free from the creature’s neck.

  As he did, horns rang out, calling men to the wall. But the men were already at the wall.

  No. The horns were coming from the town’s western wall.

  ###

  Arandar ran up the steps to the western rampart, his guards and lords following him.

  At once he saw what had so alarmed Third.

  The battle had not yet touched the western wall, and only some of Dux Sebastian’s guards waited here, watching in case the Frostborn attempted an attack by stealth. Perhaps a mile of empty, rocky ground stretched from the wall to the eastern bank of the River Moradel.

  The river itself was glowing.

  Arandar blinked, uncertain of what to make of it. The river gave off a blue light, the glow rising from within its depths. His first thought was that the Frostborn had poisoned the river, but that made no sense. Dun Calpurnia had its own water supply, several wells dug at the base of the castra’s hill. Had the great spell of the Frostborn targeted the river?

  “What is it?” said Arandar.

  “I do not know,” said Third. “I have never seen anything like it.”

  Arandar blinked. If someone as old as Third had never seen this before…