Fire and Frost (Seven Realms Book 1)

by Goodner, Allen

  One of the soldiers spoke up at that point, “That was my lord Kahji. He insisted that we continue on with our purpose.”

  Alaric turned to question the Igni, but Kahji answered before he could even open his mouth to ask, “Your people know more about the Ancients than mine. If there are answers to be had, our best option is that stone tablet. This Manitoc you’ve been seeking might be the best to decipher it, but we don’t know where he is. Following the plan seemed like the best way forward. Even with you wounded.”

  Alaric considered and decided not only that Kahji was right, but that he would have made the same decision for the same reasons. He thought back to the fight. Something still bothered him about it, but he could not decide what. That the location itself was responsible for the event was beyond strange. No matter how he thought about the incident, he could not come up with a better explanation, though. It was clear enough they had not had a similar event since leaving that place.

  They finished their breakfast in a heavy silence. Alaric had hoped to clear the air, but it was apparent he had not done so. Perhaps the discussion had been necessary, but it cast a pall over the expedition. Everyone finished eating quickly and began preparing for the march ahead. They each hoped that putting physical distance between themselves and the event would help them gain distance from it emotionally as well.

  They finished breaking camp, and began riding again toward the duke’s castle. It was even more important to Alaric now to find out what the tablet meant. If this really was a ward against some form of chaos, it would be vital to learn how to repair or reset the ward. It was even possible that this was what the Frost Fiends had been seeking. If so, deciphering it might be the key to figuring out how to defeat them. Whatever the reason for the fight, Alaric’s primary goal was still ending the threat of the Frost Fiends. He would look into the question of the attack later.

  Now that he was awake for the march, he urged the group to pick up the pace once again. He rode on the cart because he was still too weak to ride his horse. So from the relative comfort of the cart, he pushed the pace as much as he dared. The others obviously shared his sense of urgency; not one complaint about the pace was uttered, even among the laborers.

  CHAPTER 20

  They rode several days to the ducal castle. Each minute of each hour seemed an eternity to Alaric. His own weakness throughout the next several days did not help his mood, and neither did the rate of travel his wounds and the pace of the draft horses forced upon them. They had no more of the strange dreams, but Alaric felt himself becoming more anxious. His anxiety manifested itself as shortness and impatience with the men. Within three days he had to force himself to be cordial.

  The men took Alaric’s mood in stride as much as possible. They all knew him well and knew that this was not his usual behavior. They also knew the burden Alaric had placed on his own shoulders, and that his impatience was at least as much with himself as it was with them.

  For his part, Kahji had been almost reclusive since the fight with the transformed laborers. When approached he had been polite, and he had helped around camp, but he seemed withdrawn. Had Alaric been in a better mood himself, he might have noticed and said something. Instead, Kahji slowly withdrew from the group in all ways except his presence and the mechanical motions of marching and camping.

  So it was that all of them felt a lifting of their spirits when they saw the thick, solid walls of the duke’s castle spring up from the land. Though still far away, they all felt lighter and more optimistic. If any answers were to be found, they felt sure they would find them here. They quickened their pace, eager to sleep inside friendly walls.

  They reached the gate and were allowed through with minimum delay. The duke had been impressed by Alaric, so he was quickly taken to the great hall to be introduced. He and Kahji were announced to the court; this time the herald did not seem so taken aback by Kahji’s presence and titles.

  “Young lord Dell,” the duke began by way of greeting, “what brings you back to my castle? Your father is well, I hope.”

  “When I left Castle Dell my father was quite well, thank you, though all were anxious about the threat still facing us. That, in fact, is my mission. We found an artifact at an old Ancient site. We had thought everything of value there had been found, but we then discovered a large stone tablet with strange markings and writing on it. We hope that either it is the object the Frost Fiends seek, or it will give us information about what to look for and where that object might be. We were hoping your scholars might be able to translate it.”

  “Then I will summon them at once,” the duke said as he looked up at his head steward. The man was already signaling one of the duke’s servants to do just that. When they arrived, the duke turned once more to Alaric, “Now, please tell us what has brought you here.”

  Alaric composed himself briefly, and began, “My lord, as you know, my Father and I were here nearly two weeks ago. We left hoping that we would either find the Monsignor Manitoc at my father’s castle, or find that he had been there. When we arrived, we found that my brother and my father’s castellan had prepared the castle for war. None of the messages we had sent to them had been received. Nor had they seen or heard from the Monsignor.

  “As we shared stories, an army of Frost Fiends some one thousand strong, came against my father’s castle. We were able to turn them back with minimal losses to our own forces. It is the opinion of the War Leader and myself that the attack was a probe, or possibly a diversion. The ease with which we defended the castle seemed odd.

  “Afterward, I spoke with our own Father Bayard. You may not be aware of it, but the father is something of an expert on the Ancients himself. My discussion with him, coupled with the fact Manitoc was missing, and some guesses as to the purpose of the attack on the castle pointed me to a possible answer: a site where Ancient artifacts had been found that we had thought picked clean.

  “For reasons I cannot disclose, Kahji and I went to the dig site alone. We arrived there just as evening was falling, and saw about 40 men working on the site. Some of those were soldiers on sentry duty, and the rest were laborers apparently covering something with canvas. We decided to wait until morning to approach.

  “When we did, we found the soldiers all slain and the laborers missing. With some urgency we looked at what they had been covering the night before, and found the tablet which we have now brought. Since only Kahji and I were there at the time, I memorized it as best I could- we could not carry it ourselves. I then returned to my father and told him and Father Bayard of what I had found, drawing the symbols and as much of the writing on the tablet as I could for them.

  “Father Bayard recognized the symbol as a Sign of Discord, possibly a ward of some kind. He said he could not translate the wording. That was when my father ordered me to take some men, dig up the tablet, and bring it to your court for your scholars to view. We were hoping to get a translation of the text and confirmation as to what the tablet is.”

  The duke nodded. “Then let us see this tablet. I must confess, your tale has me curious as to its nature as well. And if it is the thing these Frost Fiends seek, then perhaps we can discover a way to thwart them permanently.”

  “My lord, I should also warn you. The night I returned with several men to retrieve the tablet, something strange and disturbing occurred. I found myself in a dream I can hardly remember. I remember only that something was offering me power beyond my knowledge. I awoke from my fitful sleep just in time for two of the laborers to be transformed into some kind of beasts, obviously possessed and turned into some sort of demons. Before we knew what was happening, we had to fight them. When I asked the others who had also been asleep, it seems we had all had similarly disturbing dreams. We believe that the place itself is somehow cursed, but we cannot discount the possibility that it is the tablet. I would be remiss if I did not warn you to take great care.”

  “So noted. Let us see what we can learn from this tablet.”

  Beside
s the duke and Alaric, the duke’s head steward and four scholars moved to examine the tablet. The scholars measured its height and width, examined the carvings thoroughly, and took careful note of the design and the single marred symbol. For many minutes they examined it. Alaric had not noticed at the time, but at some point they must have sent for paper and writing utensils. As they spoke and measured and viewed, one of them was sitting at a small portable desk taking notes.

  After some time, Alaric approached the one taking notes. He idly noted that one of the pieces of paper was a sketch, almost like an engineer’s rendering, of the tablet. From his brief glance he couldn’t understand the rest. “Have you discovered what it is?”

  The man started briefly. Alaric decided he had been oblivious to everything except the other scholars and his own notes. “No, my lord, we have not. Initially, it seems your Father Bayard was correct. At least, he appears to have been partially correct. Some things do not seem to make sense, however. It will take us quite some time to decipher the entire tablet.”

  “Do not make sense? Like what?”

  “See here, my lord?” he pointed at a page of notes, “This writing seems to be speaking of an anchor, or a support. Sometimes we have to base exact translations on context, and that takes some time. But if that refers to the tablet, then the tablet itself is not the ward, but rather a part of something larger. And that is not the only thing which seems out of place.”

  The duke had come over during the exchange. Casting an eye toward the waning sun he noted, “It looks like our answers will at least have to wait until morning. I will have my steward see to your men, and one of the servants will show you to guest quarters. I would be delighted if you would join me for supper.”

  That night, they were treated to the duke’s hospitality. He did not throw a great feast for them, but he made them welcome as honored guests. After the evening meal, he called for entertainment. The evening was passed in a warm glow with music, poetry, and dancing. For Alaric the evening came as quite a relief after the stresses of the last week. Finally, full, warm, and tired, all retired to sleep.

  Alaric once again fell into a deep, but troubled sleep. The same voice from before was back, offering him power and riches. Once more he struggled with himself as much as with the voice. For what seemed like days he fought. Finally, he awoke in cold sweat.

  “Not again,” he muttered to himself. Half on instinct, he reached for his sword and moved for the door. Before he got there he heard the screams.

  He ran down the stairs, often jumping three at a time. When he reached the bottom he did not even pause; he threw himself into a roll. Rolling across the straw-covered ground was not comfortable, but it would prevent an enemy from striking him as soon as he left the cover of the arch leading to the stairs.

  He came up from his roll some feet into the room. Looking around, he quickly assessed the situation. It looked grim. His soldiers were waking, but they did not wear their weapons while in the great hall. In all, seven monsters stood looking hungrily at the rest of the crowd. He barely noted their hideous forms as he moved further into the room. One had rams’ horns, another’s neck had stretched grotesquely, and yet another seemed to have turned into living stone.

  “Lord God, protect me,” he breathed before roaring his defiance and charging at the nearest of the demons.

  This one appeared to have the head and beak of a great raptor, but had flashing claws like a cat’s. Before he could blink it had swatted at him four, five, six times. Blind luck and instinct allowed him to parry the blows. He chose not to block the final strike, instead spinning and moving in behind it. With a quick strike, he slashed at the thing’s face forcing it backward.

  A shout from one of his men barely warned him in time as the long-necked monstrosity flashed its head toward him like a striking snake. Unable to block the attack or move laterally out of its way, he dropped to the ground. As he did, he swung again. A flash of liquid black told him he had scored a hit, but he didn’t know how well he had connected. From the deep roar the thing let out, he apparently hadn’t hit it hard enough.

  Knowing how vulnerable he was on the ground, he rolled. The move saved his life once more. Another beast, this one with a snout like a great bear dripping rivulets of steaming green liquid, leaped and landed where he had been lying just the moment before. Smoke started rising from the straw under that great maw, as the strange fluid landed on it.

  Now pressed by three of the monsters, Alaric could only hope he was causing enough of a distraction. “Get the guards!” he yelled. As though freed from some kind of paralysis, one of the commoners in the room bolted for the door, just managing to exit before the horned beast slammed into the doors. They rocked as though hit by the force of a battering ram.

  Alaric could only fight defensively now. Mostly surrounded and on the ground, he had no chance to make any offensive moves. Instead he kept his sword moving about him quickly. For long moments he struggled before taking a knee. Finally he was able to curl his second leg under him. With a mighty heave, he lunged forward again. The movement brought him upright. It also brought him close enough to reach the body of the long-necked demon. A remote part of his brain noted that the body was still human, and dressed in the higher quality clothing of a bachelor knight or a high ranking squire.

  He struck before the thing could strike him from behind, hacking deep into its neck just above the shoulder. This time it did not roar in pain or outrage. It simply fell lifeless at his feet. Black fluids spread from the mortal wound.

  His mind barely registered that reinforcements had arrived. Several of the duke’s guards had entered the fight. The duke himself had come down, though he had thought to bring a shield in addition to his sword. The duke was hard pressed by the beast with the bear’s maw. The guards were fighting two to a monster and barely holding their own. That still left the eagle-beaked monster for Alaric.

  This flashed through his mind in an instant, as did the fact the he could not see the monster. Once again he dropped to the ground. Once again the move saved his life. He watched the lightning-fast cat’s paws flash over his head. Before he could react, the beast kicked out. Alaric idly noted that its feet, too, were those of a great feline.

  That meant it could not get much force behind the kick. Its wickedly sharp claws meant it didn’t need much force, however. The claws tore into his shoulder. Alaric felt fire, and his vision began to waver. With a supreme force of will, he forced the pain into the back of his mind. Holding his sword with both hands, he stabbed up and back, over his head.

  The monster even sounded like a bird of prey. Its dying scream filled the hall. Alaric twisted and rolled up onto one knee as it fell. Its body was wracked with spasms as it died.

  Then Kahji was in the hall. He burst through the doors to the great hall in a flurry of rage and claws. Behind him came several more guards, but they seemed almost redundant.

  With a jump powered as much by rage as it was by muscle, the great War Leader landed on the back of the horned demon, forcing it to the ground. His club swung up, over, and around. With a sickening crunch it slammed into the side of the thing’s head. It fairly exploded in ichor and gore.

  With barely a pause to lift his club, he sprang again. He closed the distance to the rock-skinned beast. It roared its defiance but was met with that great club. A sound like the sharp crack of thunder filled the hall, then spider web cracks appeared in monster’s shoulder, chest and arm. Another great swing took the arm off completely. The beast fell in a rain of rock and gore.

  In mere seconds the tide had turned completely. With four of the monsters down, more soldiers could fight each of the remaining beasts. Alaric moved to harass the thing fighting the duke. He found his wound prevented him from making any complex maneuvers or feints, but the duke was also an accomplished warrior. Between the two of them they were able to gain the upper hand. With a final thrust, the duke pierced its chest. The wound was obviously fatal, but the bear-thing did not seem to
recognize that fact. It fought on for many more moments before blood loss sapped it of its final strength.

  As the last of the beasts fell, the duke looked at Alaric. “What, in the name of God Most Holy, was that?”

  CHAPTER 21

  “So, once again, what was that?” the duke asked.

  They sat in his salon. The duke had received some minor scrapes which had been treated only with an application of ointment. Alaric’s wound, though painful, was also relatively minor. Some of the others had not been so lucky. Even now the chiurgeons were consulting to see if one the duke’s men could be saved.

  “Those were the demons I spoke of, my lord,” Alaric replied. “That is almost exactly what happened to my men and me. It seems each of these beasts takes a different form. I suspect that you had a dream tonight. Some voice in the darkness was offering you power. You struggled as much against yourself as against it. Something in you wanted to give in, but something else knew that would be wrong- even fatal.”

  “You are correct. How do you know my dreams?”

  “We all experienced similar dreams. I suspect that if you questioned those in the great hall, and possibly the entire castle, they would confirm they had a similar dream. Obviously we cannot ask Sir Henrie and Sir Jacque, nor the commoners who were transformed, but it is my suspicion that they lost that battle with themselves. I suspect they gave in to that power.”

  “What brought it here? Your tablet?”

  “I am afraid so, your Grace. We had hoped that the Ancient site was what had caused the transformations there, but it seems it may be the tablet instead. How, I have no idea.”

  “What of your Igni friend? I’ve only fought the Igni rarely myself, but I have never seen one so obviously in the throes of battle-rage who did not erupt in bursts of flames every few seconds. How did he control it, and what outraged him so?”