Frostborn: The Eightfold Knife (13 page)

Rakhaag hissed, and an ominous growl went through the lupivir pack.

“I see they know the name,” said Calliande.

“The True People know of him,” said Rakhaag. “He taught the dark elves how to open the doors to the threshold. He brought the Frostborn to the forest.”

“The Frostborn?” said Ridmark, surprised. “What do you know about the Frostborn and Shadowbearer?” He had assumed Shadowbearer wanted the empty soulstone and Calliande’s death for some nefarious purpose of his own, but did that purpose involve the Frostborn somehow?

“Only that he is the herald of woe, and he heralded the invasion of the Frostborn nearly three hundred winters ago,” said Rakhaag.

“How?” said Ridmark. “How do you know that? The True People rarely live past thirty winters.”

“It is in our memories,” said Rakhaag. “But you did not come here to speak of the Frostborn.”

“No,” said Ridmark, “and you did not come here to speak of them, either. You sought us out.”

Rakhaag growled, showing his fangs. “Men and orcs have taken our females and young.”

“Perhaps they have,” said Ridmark, “and you blamed the villagers of Aranaeus. But there are no orcs in Aranaeus, are there? And you realized there are more than one group of humans in the Wilderland.”

Rakhaag said nothing. He shifted back into his half-human, half-bestial form, his pale skin marked with stripes of black fur. In this form, he looked young, perhaps no more than a year or two older than Gavin. 

“Yes,” he growled at last. “That is why we have sought you out. The orcs that took our kin. We have seen them.”

“Where?” said Ridmark.

Rakhaag growled again. “They entered Urd Dagaash last night.” His golden eyes shifted to Gavin. “Likely your missing kin are within the ruin.”

“And you want us,” said Ridmark, “to go inside and have a look.”

Caius snorted. “Given that you cannot lie, that is downright devious.”

“The True People may not enter Urd Dagaash,” said Rakhaag. “Our memories tell us that any male, female, or cub of the True People who has ever entered the ruins has not come out again.”

“But we are not of the True People,” said Ridmark, “so you’re more than happy to send us inside to deal with these orcs.”

“Yes,” said Rakhaag. He took a step closer, glaring down at Ridmark. “Prove your truth, Ridmark son of Leogrance. You say you do not lie? Then enter the ruins. Take the dwarf, the whelp, the orc, and the female and find our kin. Show…”

He trailed off, his eyes fixed on Calliande. She lifted her chin and met his eyes without blinking, but Ridmark saw a muscle trembling in her jaw.

“Rakhaag,” said Ridmark, “what is this?”

“Your hand,” said Rakhaag, a note of awe in the rough voice. 

“My hand?” said Ridmark. “What about it?”

“Not yours!” snarled Rakhaag, never looking away from Calliande. “The female’s. Let me smell your hand.”

Calliande hesitated, still keeping her eyes fixed upon Rakhaag’s.

“Ridmark,” she said.

“Let him do it,” said Ridmark, raising his staff a few inches. Perhaps Rakhaag had smelled Calliande’s ability to use magic. Ridmark did not know how the beastmen would react to a Magistria. The lupivirii were nearly extinct within Andomhaim, and Ridmark had never seen a lupivir encounter a user of magic. Perhaps Calliande’s power would command a more cooperation from Rakhaag and his pack. 

Or perhaps he would go berserk and try to kill her.

If he did, Ridmark would be ready.

Calliande shrugged and extended her hand, and Rakhaag bowed over it, his nostrils flaring. For a moment he looked like a courtier bowing over the hand of a lady, albeit a naked, dark-furred courtier standing nine feet tall. His nostrils flared once, twice, three times.

Then Rakhaag straightened up so violently that Ridmark was sure he would attack. 

“You are her!” Rakhaag hissed. “After so many years. You have come!”

There was terror on his face. 

“What are you talking about?” said Calliande.

“Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag. “You are the Staffbearer.” 

###

Calliande stared at the towering lupivir. Rakhaag stood at least three and a half feet over her and outweighed her by two hundred pounds. He could have snapped her in half without much effort.

Yet he was terrified of her.

“Staffbearer?” said Calliande. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?” 

“You are the Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag. “It is in our memories. You would return, to warn the True People against the coming of the Frostborn.”

“You…you know who I am?” said Calliande, stunned. It was madness. She had been born centuries ago, and Rakhaag could not have been more than twenty. There was no way he could know who she was. 

Yet the lupivirii did not lie.

“You are the Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag, “and we must obey you. Otherwise the world shall die in ice, and the True People shall perish. All peoples shall perish.” 

“I see,” said Calliande. “How can you possibly know that?”

Rakhaag hissed. “The great memory of the True People.”

“What is that?” said Calliande. 

“When we die,” said Rakhaag, “our memories are not lost, but become part of the great memory. When we are born, we can touch the great memory. A cub learns to hunt, to stalk, to survive in the wilds by learning from the great memory.”

“You mean the memories of the True People remain after death?” said Calliande. “And you can recall them?”

“It is as you say,” said Rakhaag. “Your scent is part of the great memory. Every one of the True People would recognize you from your scent. And we will do as you say.”

Calliande hesitated. The Magistri could speak which each other over vast distances, using their magic to create a limited form of telepathy. Perhaps the lupivirii could do something similar, communicating their memories after death. And if the lupivirii had some telepathic ability, it explained why they never spoke to each other, but only employed speech to communicate with other kindreds. 

And if she had spoken with them before she had gone to sleep below the Tower of Vigilance…they might know who she truly was.

“Dragonfall,” said Calliande. “Do you know where it is?”

Rakhaag growled. “The name is not known to us.”

“You called me the Staffbearer,” said Calliande. “Why?”

“Because you are the Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag.

“Obviously I have no staff now,” said Calliande. “Do you know where it is?” 

Rakhaag hesitated. “You are the Staffbearer.”

Calliande could have screamed in frustration. The lupivirii knew her. Or at least they knew who she had been. Yet they thought in terms of scent and instinct. They could not translate their great memory into useful information.

Ridmark’s quiet voice cut into her thoughts. 

“The lupivirii said you can command them,” said Ridmark. “Perhaps you should follow their suggestion. And they might know something about the disappearances.” 

Calliande took a deep breath. “Yes, of course, you’re right.” She rebuked herself. Innocent lives were at stake, and she could not waste time with self-pity. And if the beastmen thought like wolves…then she would ask them questions wolves might understand. “Will you answer my questions, Rakhaag son of Balhaag?”

“I shall,” said Rakhaag. “You are the Staffbearer.” 

“Actually,” said Calliande. She was a Magistria, not a warrior. She wasn’t sure of the right questions to ask. “If I command you to answer the questions of Ridmark son of Leogrance, will you do it?”

Rakhaag growled. “If you command it.”

“I do.” 

“The men and orcs who took your kin,” said Ridmark. “What can you tell me about them?”

“They were warriors,” said Rakhaag. “They carried weapon-tools of steel, and clothed themselves in steel. They came with great speed and stealth, and vanished before we could pursue. They employed a magic that made us weak, a vile scent that filled our minds with fog.”

“A drug, then?” said Ridmark. “Can you tell me more about them?”

“They were poison,” said Rakhaag.

“They carried poison, you mean,” said Ridmark.

Rakhaag bared his fangs. “They stank of poison. It was in their blood. Their sweat dripped with it.” 

“You mean they were poisoned?” said Ridmark.

“Perhaps,” said Rakhaag. “If they were of the True People, I would say that they were…diseased. That they were rabid, perhaps, or that they had been infected by an illness that had driven them mad.” 

“You must have followed them,” said Ridmark. “If their blood was tainted, you could have followed their scent easily. Where did they go?”

“To the ruins,” said Rakhaag. “To the place called Urd Dagaash.”

Ridmark grunted. “Did they come out again?”

“Often,” said Rakhaag. “At least a half-dozen times in the last twenty rounds of the sun.”

Calliande frowned. “If they’re coming from Urd Dagaash, then why did you think the men of Aranaeus took your kin?” 

“Because,” said Rakhaag, “some of the humans and orcs with poisoned blood went to Aranaeus.” 

“You’re sure of this?” said Ridmark.

Rakhaag growled again. “Humans and orcs fashion tools of falsehood from cunning words, but the True People do not lie.”

“No, but the True People can be mistaken,” said Ridmark. “You thought me responsible for the disappearances at first.”

“This is so,” said Rakhaag. “But we have seen and scented the poisoned ones entering the village at night.”

“A moment,” said Ridmark. He switched to Latin and looked at Gavin. “Have any other strangers come to Aranaeus in the last three weeks?”

“No, sir,” said Gavin. “Just you and your friends. Well, and that knight, Sir Philip. But he arrived just before you did.” 

“Thank you,” said Ridmark. He turned back to Rakhaag and switched to orcish. “These poisoned men and orcs. They went to Aranaeus, and returned to Urd Dagaash?”

“Several times,” said Rakhaag. 

Ridmark nodded. Calliande recognized that expression. He was working upon a plan. “Thank you.”

Rakhaag snarled at him.

“Thank you,” said Calliande. “Everything you have told us will help us to find your missing kin.”

“If you ask it of us, Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag, “we will do whatever you wish. For we must serve you. The great memory tells us if we do not, the cold ones will return and choke the world in ice. The forests will die, all the game shall die, and the True People shall starve and become no more.” 

“Tell him,” said Ridmark, “to keep watch over the village. Let us know if you see these poisoned warriors come for the village.”

“And what,” said Rakhaag, “will you be doing?”

“We are going to Urd Dagaash,” said Ridmark, “and we will try to unravel the mysteries surrounding us.”

“That place is death,” said Rakhaag. “If you enter you shall not return.”

“Perhaps,” said Ridmark. “All men are mortal.” He gestured at Calliande. “But we have the Staffbearer, do we not?” 

“Indeed,” said Rakhaag. “Her magic is mighty. With her at your side, you shall surely prevail. I was grievously mistaken. I mistook her for your mate and nothing more.” 

Calliande heard a croaking sound that she was very sure was Caius trying not to laugh.

“Alas, I fear I am not worthy of that honor,” said Ridmark. “But with her aid, I’m sure we shall prevail.”

Calliande did not know what to think about that, so she turned her gaze back to Rakhaag.

“You said I have mighty magic,” said Calliande. “I have magic, but it’s no stronger than the powers of any other Magistrius. You must know more about me, your great memory must know more about me. Please, I beg you, tell me anything you know. The spell that let me survive to see this time …it damaged my memory. I know nothing about myself. If you know anything, if your great memory knows anything, tell me. Anything at all.”

Rakhaag fell silent, his brow furrowing. 

“I am not…I am not sure how to answer you, Swordbearer,” said Rakhaag. “Your minds…the way you think does not make sense. You humans are all mad, all of you, with your lies and your tools and your magic. I cannot fathom you. The great memory cannot fathom you. You are…you are alien. That is the word. You are alien.”

He closed his eyes, and the other lupivirii did the same.

“What are they doing?” said Ridmark.

“I think,” said Calliande, “they’re talking with this…great memory of theirs, whatever it is.”

Rakhaag’s eyes opened again, his pupils dilated.

“You are the Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag, and the other lupivirii spoke with him in perfect unison, their growling voices forming a rasping chorus. “You bore a staff of power, the last in a long line of bearers. You stood against the shadow and the frost, at the end of the war, the great war that almost consumed the world. You promised you would return, and you have. And your return is the herald of the frost, of the return of the killing ice.”

Rakhaag shuddered, and the other lupivirii fell silent, some dropping to all fours, as if exhausted. 

“That is all the great memory knows of you, Staffbearer,” said Rakhaag. “Words…words are so crude. We know your scent. And that is richer than any words.”

“Thank you,” said Calliande. She already knew everything that Rakhaag had told her. But it had been good to hear it again. “It is maddening to not remember one’s past. And I know nothing of my past. Only what others have told me.”

“How you humans function without a great memory of your own,” said Rakhaag, “I cannot understand.” 

“We do what we can,” said Ridmark.

“Go,” said Rakhaag. “We shall do as you bid, for the Staffbearer asked it of us.”

Rakhaag turned, and the beastmen melted back into the forest. 

Ridmark let out a long breath, and Calliande saw his grip on his staff loosen. 

“They seem fond of you, mistress,” said Kharlacht. 

“They remember you,” said Caius. “Or rather this great mind of theirs does. I have never heard of such a thing.”

Calliande shrugged. “Perhaps no one else ever talked to them before.” 

“Come,” said Ridmark, beckoning with his staff. “I thought we might encounter the beastmen again, but I didn’t think they would cooperate so well. We have you to think for that, it seems.”