“Ah,” said Calliande. “It seems we now know where another of the twelve nations of the Liberated traveled. Please continue, Sir Tyrcamber.”
“Rilmael came to the first Emperor Roland and taught the men of the Empire the Seven Spells,” said Tyrcamber. “That gave them the mental discipline to resist the Malison. To this day, every man, woman, and child of the Empire learns the Seven Spells. Most of us manage to resist the Malison.”
Not everyone did, though.
Tyrcamber hadn’t.
“Are all the men of the Empire as powerful with magic as you?” said Calliande. “Your aura is potent.”
“How did you know that…no, I see,” said Tyrcamber. “You must have the Sight. Rilmael does. No, not all the men of the Empire have my power with magic. For us, magic is like any other skill or attribute. Some men can lift three hundred pounds with ease, and others struggle to lift only thirty. But I am one of the more powerful wizards in the Empire.”
He was reluctant to talk about the source of his power, how he had become Dragontiarna.
“I suppose that must be a formidable advantage in war if all your soldiers can use magic,” said Ridmark.
“It is,” said Tyrcamber, “but the dangers are…considerable. It was through our steel and our magic that we defeated the Dragon Imperator, the dark elven lord who ruled much of what is now the Empire. But the peril of the Malison is ever present. And the people of the Empire…” He thought for a moment, trying to phrase his thoughts and pick the appropriate Latin words to express himself. “They are turbulent. Our Counts and Dukes often war against each other over the slightest provocation. The Imperial Free Cities are proud and bow only to the Emperor and the officers of the five Imperial Orders, the knights sworn directly to the Emperor and bound to defend the Empire against all our foes. The Emperor died during the siege of Sinderost two years ago, and since then, the Dukes have not managed to put aside their squabbling long enough to elect a new Emperor. We face dangers from both rebels who wield the forces of dark magic and the Valedictor’s former lieutenants.”
“Andomhaim has had civil wars,” said Ridmark. “I expect strife is a common plague upon all mankind, regardless of the nation.”
“Aye,” said Tyrcamber. “But we come from different worlds, though those strange rifts have joined them. Do you know how the rifts were created?”
“Somewhat,” said Calliande. “In the forum of this town is a strange menhir of white stone. It is covered in elven symbols. I thought it a relic of the high elves of ancient days, or a nation of the Liberated – the cloak elves, as you call them. Before today, it showed no signs of magic, or indeed of being any danger to anyone. The stone was a curiosity, a local landmark, and nothing more. But today the stone awakened. We do not fully understand the kind of magic it channels, but it opened several rifts, world gates that lead from here to your world. The gates are easy enough to close, but the stone can open more of them.”
“I have been working on the method to put the stone back to sleep,” said the blue-eyed woman with the black staff. “I am not yet certain, but I believe the stone was dormant. Perhaps it can be made dormant again.”
“Then these gates have opened near the town of Castarium and nowhere else?” said Tyrcamber.
“As far as I am aware,” said the woman with the black staff.
“Antenora and I are both members of the Order of the Magistri,” said Calliande, “and we can use our spells to speak with other Magistri over a long distance.”
“A useful skill,” said Tyrcamber. He knew the Knights of the Order of the Griffin could do something similar with the magic of elemental air, but he was uncertain how it worked.
“Anyway, we spoke to the Magistri of Tarlion and Castra Arban, and they both said the High King and Dux Tormark would send aid,” said Calliande. “They said nothing of any gates hoping near Tarlion or Castra Arban, and Antenora thinks that the gates can only open within a few miles of the white stone.”
“I see,” said Tyrcamber. “Then the sooner we can close this bridge between worlds, the better. If the Signifier found his way here, then God only knows what might come through the gates. And if the Signifier captures the white stone, perhaps he can use it to open gates at will. I would not wish the evils that have befallen the Empire to bedevil your realm of Andomhaim. For that matter, there are many dangers here that might threaten the Empire, should they learn of our world.”
“It might be worse than that,” said Calliande. “When Antenora and I traversed one of the rifts, we were nearly overwhelmed by the power on the other side. From what you have said, I think the Malison was taking hold of us and beginning the transformation. If we had stayed there a moment longer, we would both have become dragons.”
“I would not recommend the experience,” said Tyrcamber.
“I think any wizard of our world who visited yours would succumb to the Malison,” said Calliande. “If these gates become common, you might have a plague of new dragons on your world. Or the new-made dragons would immediately return through the gates to attack ours.”
“I will continue to search for a means to return the stone to dormancy,” said Antenora, “though I do not know how long it will take.”
“There is another matter,” said Tyrcamber. “I think the Signifier has come through one of the rifts nearby and is preparing to attack your town. We should…ah.”
Both Calliande and Antenora looked to the sky, and Tyrcamber saw Thunder Cloud circling, her white wings spread against the peculiar blue sky. Tyrcamber waved his arms overhead, drawing Olivier’s attention, and he saw the knight nod. Thunder Cloud began to spiral down, heading for the main street leading into the heart of the town.
“Lord Ridmark,” said Tyrcamber. “Best instruct your men to keep a safe distance from Thunder Cloud. Griffins are proud beasts, and they do not respond well to strangers.”
Ridmark nodded and passed instructions to his men, and then he headed for the stairs. Tyrcamber followed him, and Calliande, Antenora, Prince Accolon, and Lord Kharlacht joined them. A short, broad-shouldered creature with gray skin and marble-like eyes accompanied them. Tyrcamber realized that the creature was a dwarf. Dwarves dwelled to the north of the Empire, in their fortress city of Khald Akkar, and Tyrcamber had never actually seen one without a cowl and a mask. For that matter, the dwarf wore a friar’s robe and a bishop’s skullcap, and Tyrcamber had never heard of a dwarf accepting baptism. Likely the dwarves of this world had different customs from those of Khald Akkar.
Thunder Cloud landed and folded her wings, her talons scraping against the flagstones of the street. Olivier swung down from the saddle and patted the griffin’s flank.
“Well, Sir Tyrcamber,” said Olivier in Frankish, “it looks like you have made some new friends. Which is just as well, because our old enemies have come here.”
“Speak Latin,” said Tyrcamber in Frankish, “for everyone here uses that tongue.”
Olivier heaved a sign. “The language of the church?” His Latin was passable if a bit slow. “Does no one in this realm speak good honest Frankish?”
“I am afraid that is one of our flaws,” said Ridmark in a dry voice.
“Sir Olivier de Falconberg,” said Tyrcamber, “this is Ridmark Arban, the Count of this town, which is named Castarium…ah, I think the title is actually Comes here. His wife Calliande Arban, the Keeper of Andomhaim, Lord Kharlacht of Rhaluusk, Prince Accolon Pendragon of Tarlion, Antenora of the Magistri, and…”
“Bishop Caius of Khald Tormen,” said the dwarf. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“It seems their ancestors came from Old Earth, just as ours did,” said Tyrcamber, “though several hundred years before the first Emperor Roland was brought to Sinderost.”
“Well, that is a strange thing,” said Olivier. “I’ve flown from one end of the Empire, and seen all manner of peculiar things, but never anything like this.”
“We’re not in the Empire,” said Tyrcamber, and Olivier barked a
laugh.
“No, indeed not,” said Olivier, and his mirth faded. “I found what happened to the Signifier.”
“Where is he?” said Tyrcamber.
“About four miles north of here,” said Olivier, pointing at the gate. “Wait. That direction is north?” Ridmark nodded. “Well, the Signifier’s there, and he brought all that remains of his army. About three thousand goblins and five hundred ogres. From the looks of things, he’s getting ready to march south and attack the town.”
“So many?” said Tyrcamber. “We underestimated his strength.”
“Oh, it gets worse,” said Olivier. “He’s got three dragons with him. The red one that he rides. And two smaller green ones, the sort that breathes corrosive mist, ridden by two of his umbral elf retainers.”
“Umbral elves?” said Ridmark.
“I don’t suppose they have gray skin and crimson eyes?” said Calliande.
“You’ve encountered them, I see,” said Tyrcamber.
“Aye,” said Calliande. “One of them was flying a green dragon, and we killed both the dragon and its rider in the courtyard of the castra. What are the umbral elves?”
“Once they were dark elves,” said Tyrcamber. “Or, rather, the commoners among the dark elves. As you can imagine, the dark elven lords have led their kindred to disaster after disaster, and eventually, the commoners had enough and revolted. They renounced the shadow within them and their immortality and became free of the dark elven lords. Though they are still dangerous and powerful and often cruel. Many of the umbral elves sided with the Valedictor, and some still serve his lieutenants.” Tyrcamber offered a shrug. “Some wish nothing to do with the dark elves. Sygalynon, a republic of the umbral elves, signed a treaty of neutrality with the Emperor, and they have stayed out of the war.”
“The more pressing question,” said Ridmark, “is what we are going to do about the Signifier.”
“Why the devil is he marching to attack this town?” said Olivier. “You don’t have that many men, but you’ve got strong fortifications,” he glanced at Calliande and Antenora, “and you’ve got powerful wizards. If he attacks, he’ll probably take the town, but he’ll get mauled something fierce in the process, and your High King will finish him off.”
“Is it not obvious, sir knight?” said Antenora.
“Not to me,” said Olivier. “But I just scout and shoot things. Sir Tyrcamber the Siegebreaker does my thinking for me.”
Tyrcamber sighed.
“Siegebreaker?” said Ridmark.
“Don’t ask,” said Tyrcamber, who did not want to explain how he had gotten that name. “But I can hazard a guess as to why the Signifier wants the town. That stone in the forum that is opening the rifts? He wants it for himself.”
“That is my suspicion,” said Antenora. “Perhaps he knows how to control its magic or is confident that he will discern its secrets. If he takes the stone for himself, maybe he intends to use it to escape both Andomhaim and the Empire entirely.”
“Or, knowing the Signifier,” said Tyrcamber, “he’s going to use it to open gates back to the Empire. Perhaps he even wants to take Urd Mythruin for himself and claim the Dragon Imperator’s throne in imitation of the Valedictor.”
“God and the saints!” said Olivier with disgust. “One imitator of the Dragon Imperator was bad enough. A second one?”
“It is clear what we must do,” said Tyrcamber. “I will speak to Duke Hulderic and convince him of the need to aid the town of Castarium.”
Olivier snorted. “It won’t take that much convincing, sir. He’s too frightened of you to refuse your suggestions.”
“You will bring an army to our aid?” said Ridmark.
“Aye,” said Tyrcamber, looking the older man in the eye. “The Signifier is a danger to both of us. He’ll destroy your town and slay your people, and if he gets that stone, he will pose a far greater danger to the Empire. We just reclaimed Hulderic’s castle. I doubt he’ll want to retake it yet again.”
“If we’re going to do this,” said Olivier, “then we had better hurry. It looks like the Signifier is getting ready to march south.”
Tyrcamber nodded. “Then with your leave, Count Ridmark, I will return to Castle Grimnir and summon aid. If we hasten, we can prepare for a siege here.”
Ridmark took a deep breath. “I think we would be better served by marching out and meeting the Signifier’s force.”
Tyrcamber frowned. “That is risky. Better instead to hold behind the walls of Castarium and await aid from your High King.”
“Any aid would take three days to reach us at a minimum,” said Ridmark. “Probably closer to four. And Castarium would be vulnerable to an attack of dragon fire.” He gestured at the houses rising over the streets. “Most of the buildings are of brick and fired clay, aye, but there’s enough here to burn. And the longer we wait behind the walls, the more time the Signifier has to summon reinforcements through the gates.”
“We broke his armies,” said Olivier, “but if enough of his surviving soldiers reform and find the rifts, they could strengthen the Signifier.”
“I fear we must end this today,” said Ridmark. “Otherwise, our position will grow weaker, and the Signifier’s stronger. We have to kill the Signifier and his dragons as soon as possible.”
Tyrcamber thought it over. “Are you so sure you can face a dark elven lord in battle?”
“Yes,” said Ridmark.
Olivier did not look convinced.
“Cast the Sense spell upon his sword,” suggested Tyrcamber.
Olivier shrugged and cast the Sense spell. His brow furrowed, and then his eyes went wide. He took a hasty step back and brushed Thunder Cloud’s flank, and the griffin gave him an irritated look.
“What is that thing?” said Olivier. “I’ve never encountered a weapon like it.”
“It’s called a soulblade,” said Ridmark. “It can kill creatures of dark magic, pierce any warding spell, and deflect almost any magical attack.”
“God and the apostles,” said Olivier. “We could have used one of those during the war with the Valedictor.” He considered. “We could have used a hundred of them.”
“At the moment, we have two,” said Ridmark, gesturing at Prince Accolon. The prince had remained silent throughout the discussion, which Tyrcamber thought odd. Wouldn’t a prince outrank a Count? Perhaps the custom of Andomhaim gave the local Count (or Comes, Tyrcamber had to remember that) greater authority in times of battle. Or maybe Accolon wasn’t physically well enough to take command. There was a shadow in his eyes and a hollowness to his features as if he had just passed through a severe illness or a profound bereavement. “If we can bring down the Signifier’s dragon, we can kill him.”
“Very well,” said Tyrcamber. “We have an accord, then. If you make your preparations here, I will return as soon as I can with aid.”
“Go,” said Ridmark. “We’ll be waiting for you.”
Tyrcamber nodded and strode back to the town’s gate.
###
A short time later Tyrcamber stood before Duke Hulderic and his chief knights and vassals in the courtyard of Castle Grimnir, telling them all that had transpired.
Part of Tyrcamber’s mind realized that he had traveled between two different worlds in the space of an hour. It was a peculiar thing to consider. Rilmael had once told him that the distances between worlds were so vast that it could take light thousands of years to travel between them. Yet magic permitted Tyrcamber to make the journey in a single stride.
But the rest of Tyrcamber’s mind, the part hardened in years of campaigning as a Knight of the Order of Embers and a Dragontiarna Knight, considered the military implications of what he had learned. It had taken the Valedictor two years of battle to march from the Goblin Wastes to reach the gates of Sinderost. What could the Valedictor have done if he could have opened a magical gate and moved his army from Urd Mythruin to Sinderost in a single hour?
Whatever that magical stone in Castarium reall
y was, at all costs they had to keep the Signifier from claiming it. The Signifier had barely managed to hold on to the duchy of Valstrasia in the aftermath of the Valedictor’s defeat, and the men of the Empire had driven his ill-led armies back.
But if the Signifier could use that magical stone to travel anywhere that he wished…
“God preserve us,” said Duke Hulderic once Tyrcamber had finished. “It is almost too fantastical to believe. Another kingdom of humans? If you were any other man, Sir Tyrcamber, I would say that your great power had deranged you into telling fantastical tales.”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” said Tyrcamber.
“As did I,” said Olivier. Next to him, Thunder Cloud amused herself by tearing strips of flesh from one of the dead goblins that the gnolls hadn’t gotten around to eating yet. “And during the campaign for Valstrasia, have I ever made a false report?”
“No,” conceded Hulderic. “But…damn it all, man. Do you seriously want me to march my entire army through a magic hole in the air, to another world, and fight the Signifier there?”
“Yes,” said Tyrcamber.
Hulderic shook his head. “This new land is called Andomhaim, is it? Let the men of Andomhaim deal with the Signifier.”
“That could lead to your ruin, lord Duke,” said Daniel. Hulderic scowled at him. “Consider. You have seen the magical rifts for yourself. If the Signifier captures the menhir, perhaps he will have the power to create more. He could easily retake Castle Grimnir, opening gates to move his troops into the walls. Or perhaps he could seize Urd Mythruin for himself and rally the goblin tribes to his side.”
“My lord,” said Angaric, all trace of his jovial manner gone, “if the history of the Empire proves anything, it is the dangers of ignoring a threat for too long. If we had acted sooner, if the lords had not spent so much time in wasteful squabbling, perhaps we would have defeated the Valedictor long before he became such a danger.”
“The Signifier isn’t such a great danger, not yet,” said Tyrcamber. “But if he takes Castarium, he might become one.”
Dragontiarna: Knights Page 25
