Frostborn: The False King

by Jonathan Moeller

  Kurdulkar’s face smoothed into an expressionless mask, his mane stirring beneath his red diadem. Yet his unblinking eyes remained fixed on Ridmark, and Ridmark could guess the Prince’s thoughts. Kurdulkar had to wonder how he had gotten away from Ralakahr, how he had escaped the Labyrinth. The manetaur Prince also had to wonder if Ridmark had found irrefutable proof of his misdeeds, something that would destroy his standing before the Red King.

  Kurdulkar’s muzzle twisted in a confident sneer, and Ridmark’s fingers tightened against his staff.

  Kurdulkar knew all that…and he didn’t care. He was certain that victory was at hand.

  Just what was Kurdulkar planning?

  “Red King,” said Kurdulkar, looking to his father. “This is most offensive. We debate matters of concern only to the Hunters, and my brother Curzonar insists upon bringing alien kindreds into our deliberations. I demand that they be removed at once…”

  “They are here at my invitation, Prince Kurdulkar,” said Raszema, her hoarse voice rising over the garden.

  “It is inappropriate,” said Kurdulkar, glancing in Calliande’s direction.

  “I speak for them as well,” said Curzonar. “The outlanders have done us a tremendous service, for they have brought word of a grave danger that threatens the Hunters.”

  Turcontar gazed at them for a moment and then gestured with his left hand.

  “I have warned you of Kurdulkar’s treachery many, many times, but you have not listened,” said Curzonar. “The arbiters have warned you of his treachery, but he is clever enough to dance around the law, so the arbiters could never take action against him…”

  “Lies and calumnies,” said Kurdulkar.

  “But you have never believed any of it, Red King,” said Curzonar. “Why should you? For Kurdulkar and I have been enemies for many years, as is proper for Princes of the Range. Yet I say again, Kurdulkar has violated all custom and law. He hired the dvargir to make war upon us, and he plans an even more monstrous crime.”

  “Lies,” said Kurdulkar again. “Have you any proof of this nonsense, brother?”

  “I have a witness,” said Curzonar. “Ridmark Arban, magister militum of Nightmane Forest and ambassador of Queen Mara.”

  “Yes, the human renegade,” said Kurdulkar, his voice heavy with scorn. “I am sure the word of a human renegade means so much to the Princes of the Range.”

  “He is an ambassador of another nation,” said Tazemazar, “recognized as such by the Red King himself. Would you deny the Red King’s judgment in this matter?”

  “I do not challenge our father’s authority,” said Kurdulkar.

  “Speak, then, Lord Ridmark,” said Turcontar at last, his deep voice rumbling over the gathering.

  “My lord Red King,” said Ridmark, keeping one eye upon Kurdulkar and his warriors. He had his armor and his weapons again, but he still did not want to fight that many manetaurs without aid. “After the honor of our last meeting, we traveled south to Shakaboth to discover who hired the dvargir mercenaries attacking the lands of the Range…”

  “No one would need to hire the dvargir,” said Kurdulkar. “They would attack us of their own accord, which only proves my point, that we must embrace powers that will make us stronger…”

  “Do you always presume to interrupt ambassadors, Prince Kurdulkar?” said Raszema with a disdainful toss of her head. “Let us hope that you do not succeed my husband. Else the Hunters shall be known for their rudeness.”

  Kurdulkar’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the First Queen, and this time, he growled a little.

  “Lord Ridmark,” said Turcontar. “Continue your account.”

  “At Shakaboth, we followed a band of manetaurs to the Labyrinth,” said Ridmark. “There Kurdulkar set a trap for us. He planned to assassinate the Keeper, lest she warn you against his treachery. Fortunately, I alone walked into the trap, while the others eluded Kurdulkar’s grasp.”

  “Lies,” said Kurdulkar again.

  “Yes, I can see why you would say that,” said Curzonar, “given how incompetent it makes you appear as a Hunter.”

  A rumble of laughter rose from the Princes that supported Curzonar.

  “Enough!” snapped Turcontar. “Neither of you shall interrupt the ambassador again, under pain of my wrath. Now, Lord Ridmark. Finish your tale.”

  “Kurdulkar captured me,” said Ridmark, “and told me that he planned to kill you without a challenge and seize the throne of the Range for himself, allying the manetaurs and the tygrai with the Frostborn.”

  “If Kurdulkar indeed captured you,” said Turcontar, “he would not have permitted you to escape.”

  “He did not,” said Ridmark. “He intended to kill me, but I insulted him into a rage.” Kurdulkar bared his fangs at Ridmark. “He took my armor and weapons, drove me into the Labyrinth, and dispatched the khalath Ralakahr to kill me.”

  “Clearly, he failed,” said Turcontar. “How did you escape?”

  “I surprised Ralakahr and strangled him,” said Ridmark.

  “Ridiculous!” roared Kurdulkar. “A human could not overcome a Hunter in single combat, especially a human without weapons.”

  “I saw Ralakahr’s corpse, Prince Kurdulkar,” said Tazemazar. “He indeed died of a crushed throat. Do you deny the word of an arbiter?”

  “Of course not,” said Kurdulkar. “I would never accuse an arbiter of lying.” Ridmark caught the faint touch of scorn in the voice. “It is possible an arbiter might make a mistake, or misinterpret what he has seen. An arbiter is as fallible and as mortal as anyone else.”

  “You seem most hale, Lord Ridmark,” said Turcontar. “If you fought a Hunter hand to hand and prevailed, I cannot believe you would do so without taking serious wounds.”

  “I was mortally wounded,” said Ridmark, “but the Keeper healed the wounds with her magic before I could die.”

  “It is as the Gray Knight says,” said Curzonar. “I saw his wounds. He had been slashed many times by the claws of a manetaur

  “I also saw these wounds,” said Tazemazar, “and such wounds could only have been given to him by a Hunter. I have no doubt, my lord Red King, that Prince Kurdulkar ordered his khalath Ralakahr to murder the ambassador of Nightmane Forest.”

  “A grave charge,” said Turcontar.

  “It is a filthy lie,” said Kurdulkar. Below his dais his warriors had gotten to their feet, their expressions hard. Ridmark felt the crackle of impending violence in the air. He wished he knew what Kurdulkar intended. Did he plan to rush the Red King and cut him down? Did he have some other weapon? Some kind of dark magic, like the shadows that Imaria Licinius and Tymandain Shadowbearer had wielded?

  “The evidence is plain,” said Tazemazar. “Kurdulkar planned to murder the ambassadors of Nightmane Forest and lured them into the Labyrinth to slay them.”

  “You have no proof of these charges,” said Kurdulkar.

  “We have ample proof,” said Tazemazar. “The testimony of a human means nothing to the Hunters, but when the testimony matches the proof, we must consider it. Both Prince Curzonar and I saw the corpse of Ralakahr, and both Prince Curzonar and I saw the wounds upon the ambassador. It was obvious that the Gray Knight was sent into the Labyrinth to die, and that Ralakahr was sent to kill him, only to fall victim to his intended prey.”

  Kurdulkar said nothing, his fangs still visible.

  “Red King,” said Curzonar. “I demand the right of challenge against Kurdulkar. He has attempted the murder of ambassadors, a most heinous crime.”

  “He has also plotted your murder, Red King,” said Ridmark.

  Turcontar shrugged. “If Kurdulkar wishes me dead, he has only to challenge me and defeat me. One of my sons will, one day.”

  “No,” said Ridmark. “He does not want to challenge you. He wants to murder you without fighting you, and all those who support Curzonar.”

  “No,” said Turcontar at once. “Kurdulkar is harsh, yes, but a Prince of the Range must be harsh. Yet he would no
t go so far outside of our laws as…”

  “He would, father,” said Curzonar. He glared at Kurdulkar. “I challenge you, Kurdulkar. For too long your crimes have gone unanswered. Today, I swear, only one of us shall leave the Red King’s palace alive.”

  Turcontar growled. “You would plunge us into conflict when we need unity, Curzonar. The dvargir shall take advantage of any weakness and dissension in our…”

  “Enough!”

  Kurdulkar’s voice cracked over the garden like a thunderbolt.

  Turcontar blinked, baring his fangs. One did not interrupt the Red King.

  “Enough,” said Kurdulkar, his voice calmer. “How I have wearied of lies, of games, of denials. Thankfully, their time is past.”

  Some of the Princes on his side of the garden rose and walked to his dais, followed by their retinues, while some of the Princes only looked confused. On Curzonar’s side, the Princes rose, flanked by their warriors and soldiers.

  Ridmark looked around, calculating. He suspected the garden was about to become a battlefield, and he might need to get Calliande out. He could withdraw with her to the Red King’s entrance, or Antenora could work a ring of fire to keep the manetaurs at bay. He would also need to get Curzonar and Turcontar out…

  “What madness is this, my son?” said Turcontar.

  “Not madness, but the truth,” said Kurdulkar. “Would you like to know the truth, father? Everything that Tazemazar claimed is true. I am going to kill you all and claim the throne of the Range for myself. You are…obsolete, all of you. With your challenges and endless squabbling. The tide of the Frostborn will change this world forever, and we must either grow stronger or become slaves and be swept away in the storm.”

  “You would do that by twisting us,” said Tazemazar. “We would cease to become the Hunters, and we would become something else entirely…”

  “You say that as if it is a bad thing,” said Kurdulkar. “We shall become gods, arbiter. We shall become as immortal as the dark elves and as powerful as the urdmordar. Yes, not all will survive what is to come. Yes, there shall be a cost. Blood will be spilled. But we shall become more than mere Hunters, more than mortals, we shall become…”

  “Monsters,” said Calliande in a cold, clear voice. “You will twist your kindred in monsters, Kurdulkar, no different than the urvaalgs or the urdhracosi.”

  “I was once an urdhracos,” said Third. Ridmark glanced at her, surprised. “For centuries before any of you were born, I was twisted by the very power you so foolishly have chosen to employ. It was death without end, a nightmare from which I could never wake. Turn aside from this madness before it destroys you as it destroyed my father and all his kindred.”

  Kurdulkar’s sneer of contempt did not waver. “You are weak! Too wedded to your obsolete traditions and archaic morals, too weak to do what needs to be done. The return of the Frostborn heralds a new age of our world, and we must grow stronger or die. The weak shall be swept aside. The strong shall rule, and I will ensure that the Hunters are the strongest.”

  “My son,” said Turcontar. “You are brave and valiant, and if you wish to rule the fate of the Hunters, then challenge me and take my crown. Do not play these silly games. Lay aside these childish and outlandish superstitions, and…”

  “Childish?” said Kurdulkar, and there was no disguising his contempt. “I have given the Hunters the power of gods, and you call it childish? Old fool! See the future for yourself!”

  He spread his arms, and shadows erupted from him in all directions, swirling around his dais as darkness filled his eyes, turning them from golden discs to pools of shadow. The khalaths and warriors near his dais followed suit, mantling themselves in shadow, and the staff of Ardrhythain began to glow in Ridmark’s hand. Truthseeker crackled with white fire as Gavin drew the soulblade, and Calliande struck the end of the Keeper’s staff against the ground, calling power to herself.

  “What black sorcery is this?” thundered Turcontar. “Only the arbiters of the Hunters may wield magic!”

  “Another useless law,” said Kurdulkar, “that shall be swept aside!”

  Chaos erupted in the garden as Kurdulkar and his followers revealed their powers. Some of the Princes moved to Kurdulkar’s side, drawing weapons. But most of the others hurried to join Curzonar’s side, a small army of manetaurs and tygrai forming up behind him.

  “Calliande,” murmured Ridmark.

  “They’re like the Enlightened,” hissed Calliande, looking back and forth as her eyelids fluttered. “All of them, all of Kurdulkar’s followers. It’s the same connection to the shadow of Incariel. They’ll be able to do everything the Enlightened could do – enhanced speed, enhanced strength, and other abilities.”

  The manetaurs were dangerous enough in combat as it was. The shadow of Incariel would make them even more deadly. Even as Ridmark looked, he saw some of the manetaurs twisting in the grip of the shadow as it started to mutate them, their eyes glowing red, their claws becoming longer and sharper as extra muscle bulged beneath their fur.

  “Whatever dark powers you chose to wield, you are outnumbered, Kurdulkar,” said Curzonar. Tazemazar stood next to him, and other arbiters drew near, purple or red or blue light flickering up and down their staffs as they summoned their magical power. “You cannot overcome us all.”

  “You cannot,” said the Red King, rising to his full height, spear and sword in hand. Behind him, Raszema and the other manetaur females watched the contest with interest. “This is your last chance, Kurdulkar. Lay aside this madness, or we shall kill you and your followers.”

  Kurdulkar laughed. “You will not, father. Would you like to know why?”

  He made a sharp gesture, and Calliande drew in an alarmed breath.

  Behind Kurdulkar, the entire red wall of the garden seemed to ripple and fold, columns of shadow rising from the earth.

  The columns vanished, and Ridmark suddenly knew why Kurdulkar had been so certain that the dark elves had left urvaalgs behind in the Labyrinth.

  Kurdulkar had bound those urvaalgs to his will.

  There were over a hundred of the creatures, maybe even as many as a hundred and fifty. They looked like a grotesque hybrid of ape and wolf, their hunched, gray forms heavy with muscle, ropy black fur hanging from their limbs. Their eyes burned like coals, and their claws were like the blades of serrated daggers. The stench of the urvaalgs filled Ridmark’s nostrils like poison, and he raised his staff in guard, alarm flooding through him. Urvaalgs were fast, vicious, strong, clever, and deadly in combat.

  And even worse, they were immune to normal steel. Magic could would then. A soulblade could destroy them. Ridmark’s black staff or dwarven axe could kill them. But most of the manetaurs and the tygrai had no weapons that could hurt the urvaalgs.

  It would be a slaughter.

  Kurdulkar threw back his head and roared, and the urvaalgs loosed their screeching, metallic war cries, so loud that the palace of the Red King trembled with it.

  The urvaalgs charged forward, Kurdulkar and the shadow-wielding manetaurs right behind them.

  Chapter 21: A Contest Of Princes

  “Now!” shouted Calliande.

  Gavin raised Truthseeker, moving to Antenora’s left. As soon as they had entered the Red King’s garden, Antenora began calling upon her power, cupping her hand around a tiny ball of flame that spun faster and faster as she poured more magical force into it. The ball glowed white-hot, and Gavin felt the heat of it beating upon his face. If not for Antenora’s controlling skill, standing near the tiny ball of flame would have felt like standing at the mouth of a raging furnace.

  Ridmark was shouting commands.

  “The urvaalgs, focus on the urvaalgs!” he said. “Caius, Kharlacht, Gavin, Antenora, and Third! We have weapons that can hurt the urvaalgs, and the manetaurs do not. Sir Ector, keep the Red King and the Keeper safe.”

  Antenora stepped forward, thrusting her staff, and the ball of fire leaped from her hand and soared towards the charging ur
vaalgs. The sphere grew as it did, expanding from a few inches across to a few yards.

  It slammed into the charging urvaalgs and exploded with a roar and a bloom of flame. A dozen urvaalgs fell, charred to blackened husks, and a dozen more howled in furious pain as the flames danced up and down their limbs. The charge of the urvaalgs faltered, and Gavin seized the opening.

  He sprinted forward, his shield of dwarven steel upon his left arm, Truthseeker shining in his right fist. A burning urvaalg thrashed before him, and he brought Truthseeker hammering down. The soulblade ripped through the urvaalg’s corrupted flesh, and the creature fell dead at Gavin’s feet. Another urvaalg charged at him, and he twisted, bringing his shield around. The urvaalg raked at him with its claws, but Gavin caught the attack on his shield. He sidestepped again, the urvaalg’s momentum driving it forward, and he drove Truthseeker into the urvaalg’s neck. The creature let out a furious howl and collapsed, the black slime of its blood soaking into the earth.

  By then the others caught up to him. They didn’t have the advantage of Truthseeker to enhance their strength, but that made them no less deadly. Kharlacht’s greatsword swept out in a blur of blue dark elven steel, ripping along an urvaalg’s flank. The creature stumbled, and Caius finished it off with a skull-crushing blow from the dark elven hammer he had taken from Urd Morlemoch. Third appeared in a flare of blue fire, landing atop the back of a charging urvaalg. Before the creature could react, she drove both of her short swords into the back of the urvaalg’s skull. The urvaalg reared up with a shriek, and Third vanished as the creature collapsed.

  Ridmark charged into the fray, the staff of Ardrhythain shining with white symbols. He went on the attack, launching a blurring series of thrusts and swings and jabs. The staff did little against the urvaalgs, but Ridmark’s blows distracted and confused the creatures, which gave Gavin and Caius and Kharlacht the time they needed to land killing blows, or for Third to appear and strike.

  Together they carved a path through the urvaalgs, driving towards Kurdulkar and his warriors.