Frostborn: The Eightfold Knife (37 page)

The Watcher sighed. “The loss of your memory has not changed you, Calliande. As always you are ready to take terrible risks in defense of others, heedless of the cost to yourself.”

Calliande raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were not permitted to speak of my past.”

The Watcher snorted. “This is so. But I am not speaking of the past. I merely point out the obvious. The blatantly obvious.”

“I cannot dispute that,” said Calliande.

He smiled. “It was one of the things I admired about you. One of the reasons I followed you in life, and serve you after death.”

“And you can tell me no more, I suppose?” said Calliande. 

“I cannot,” said the Watcher, “but I can warn you. Look.”

He pointed, and deep in the mists Calliande saw a flare of blood-colored light. “What is that?” she said.

“Shadowbearer,” said the Watcher. “He is seeking you, always seeking you. You escaped from his undead slaves, but he will never stop hunting you. Because you are the key to either stopping the Frostborn, or allowing them to return.”

“How?” said Calliande.

“I can tell you no more,” said the Watcher. 

Calliande pounded a fist against her leg in frustration. “Someday you will tell me a straight answer and the moons shall freeze in their courses overhead.”

“I grieve that I cannot tell you more,” said the Watcher. “I would, if I could work my will, but I cannot. You know what you must do. Find Dragonfall, find your staff, and you shall have your answers.”

Again the strange image of a chamber lined with dragon skulls flashed through her mind.

“Very well,” said Calliande. 

She turned to go, preparing to dismiss the strange dream.

And then a thought occurred to her.

“I don’t suppose,” said Calliande, “that you know anything about the Enlightened of Incariel?”

“I do,” said the Watcher. “And I can speak of it to you.”

“You can?” said Calliande. “Why?”

“Because it is not part of your past,” said the Watcher. “It began after you entered the long sleep below the Tower. And I am the Watcher, am I not? I watch the mortal world, to prepare for your return.”

“Then tell me about the Enlightened,” said Calliande. Even if she could get nothing useful about the Frostborn or Dragonfall from the Watcher, perhaps he could tell her about the Enlightened that Paul Tallmane had claimed to serve.

“They began during the war of the five Pendragon princes a hundred years past,” said the Watcher. “They worship a creature they call Incariel, a name they give to the great void the dark elves worshipped. They claim the worship of Incariel will make them superior men, immortal and invincible, able to vanquish the urdmordar and the dark elves without the aid of the Magistri or the Swordbearers. They desire to break the Pact of Ardrhythain and the Two Orders and use magic to conquer the world and make all other kindreds, and most of mankind, their slaves.” He shook his head. “Beyond that I can say nothing more. They are very secretive…and I fear they have spread through the nobles and Magistri of Andomhaim like a cancer. Beware them, Calliande. If they learn who you are, they will come for you and the empty soulstone. And you must beware them for one other reason.”

“What is that?” said Calliande.

“They are the devoted servants of Shadowbearer,” said the Watcher.

The red light pulsed in the distance, and the dream vanished. 

###

Calliande awoke with a splitting headache, every joint in her body stiff.

She sat up and groaned, rubbing her head. She lay at the base of Urd Arowyn’s central tower. People milled through the plaza, women with children, many of them crying.

“Drink this.”

Ridmark handed her a cup that smelled and tasted of medicine. Calliande drank it all as he sat next to her.

“How do you feel?” he said. 

“Terrible,” said Calliande. “How long was I asleep?”

“All of the night and most of the day,” said Ridmark. “It’s almost sunset now. If you feel up to it, we will depart tomorrow.”

Calliande raised her eyebrows. “So you won’t run off while I recover this time?”

She regretted saying it at once, but to her surprise, Ridmark laughed.

“No, not this time,” he said. “You were right. You have every reason to follow me. We both want to find the secret of the Frostborn, and stop them from returning, if we can.” He shrugged. “And if you had not been here, I would have been killed. I couldn’t fight an urdmordar on my own.”

“If I hadn’t been here,” said Calliande, “then perhaps you would not have gone to Aranaeus.” 

“No,” said Ridmark. “I still would have. I would have found Gavin, I would have gone to Aranaeus, and sooner or later the spiderlings or Agrimnalazur herself would have killed me.” His smile was tired. “That is what I would have done.”

“Risk your life in hopes that you finally die in repayment for Aelia’s death?” said Calliande. 

“I told you I don’t want to talk about Aelia,” said Ridmark.

“But I’m right,” said Calliande.

Ridmark looked away. “I am going to Urd Morlemoch to wring the secret from the Warden…but I have a better chance of success with you and the others.” 

“Thank you,” said Calliande. Odd that his comment had touched her so much. “And my best chance of finding Dragonfall, of learning who I am, is with you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the women with their children.

“They would have all died, or grown up as slaves,” said Calliande.

“I know,” said Ridmark.

“It was good we helped them,” said Calliande.

Ridmark nodded.

“Perhaps on the way to Urd Morlemoch,” said Calliande, “we’ll have a chance to help a few other people.”

He turned his head and smiled, one of the few genuine smiles she had ever seen from him.

“Perhaps we will,” he said.

###

The next morning Ridmark walked from the gates, Calliande, Caius, and Kharlacht following him.

Philip, Mallen, Bardus, Richard, Father Martel, and the other chief men of Aranaeus awaited him, Rosanna holding Philip’s arm. 

“We have all the supplies we can carry,” said Philip, “and we are setting out for Aranaeus. We should have enough to plant a crop. We will have to tighten our belts for a year or so, but with God’s favor, we should be able to rebuild Aranaeus.”

“I think you will do well,” said Ridmark. “Praefectus.”

Philip grimaced. “They should have elected someone else. Like a nobleman. A knight. Someone who knows how to fight. Someone who could be, say, the Comes of Aranaeus.”

Ridmark laughed. “You’ll have to find someone else. I fear I have another task.”

“The Frostborn,” said Philip. “Gavin told me.”

Ridmark wondered where Gavin had gone. Perhaps he had gone to bury his father. Ridmark would have liked to say farewell, but he understood if Gavin never wanted to see him again. 

Ridmark had come to Aranaeus, and Gavin’s life would never again be the same.

“The Frostborn are coming back,” said Ridmark, and he saw that they were listening to him. Usually when he spoke of the Frostborn, people ignored him or laughed him off. Even Sir Joram and Sir Constantine and Dux Gareth thought him mad with grief. “I do now know how, or why. But they shall return,” he remembered what Agrimnalazur had told him, “within a year.”

“We will prepare,” said Philip. “Gray Knight…if you ever have need of aid, come to Aranaeus. We owe you our lives and freedom.”

“May God go with you,” said Father Martel, “and aid you in your quest.”

“Perhaps he will,” said Ridmark, and he led the others down the hill towards the valley. He had not traveled in this part of the Wilderland before, but he had seen maps, and had traveled through most of the neighboring areas. From here they could proceed west until they reached the swamps surrounding Moraime, a town built around a monastery. From there they would turn northwest, towards the mountains of Kothluusk and the Three Kingdoms of the dwarves.

And then across the Torn Hills to Urd Morlemoch itself. 

They reached the valley, crossed the creek, and turned west.

The lupivirii awaited them.

A score of the males stood near the creek, wearing their half-human, half-beast forms. Rakhaag stood at their head, and stepped forward as Ridmark and the others approached. 

“You depart, gray warrior,” he said.

“Aye,” said Ridmark.

“Will the humans of Aranaeus trouble the True People?” said Rakhaag.

“I cannot say,” said Ridmark. “But they have taken heavy losses, and are weary of pain and suffering. If you leave them alone, if you ignore them and their flocks, they will leave you in peace.” 

“We shall,” said Rakhaag. “We will return to our hunting grounds, far from the homes of humans.” He hesitated, and then lowered his eyes. “We are…grateful…to you, gray warrior, for your deeds on our behalf. In all the great memory, only the Staffbearer has ever aided us as you have. And none among the True People have ever seen the death of an urdmordar.” 

“I am pleased,” said Ridmark, “that at least some of your kin were able to escape from Agrimnalazur.”

“The True People all die, in the end,” said Rakhaag, “but better that we die on the hunt, our bones weary with age, than as prey for the urdmordar.” His yellow eyes shifted to Calliande. “And you, Staffbearer, you alone have aided us more than the gray warrior. The cold ones are returning. When the hour comes, call and we will aid you.”

“I shall,” said Calliande.

“Then good hunting to you,” said Rakhaag. “The great memory will remember you, for as long as the True People endure.”

The lupivirii melted away into the trees. 

“How will you call them?” said Ridmark a moment later.

“I don’t know,” said Calliande. “It must have been something I knew how to do in my previous life. When I still had my memory.” She gave a frustrated shake of her head. “I wish I could remember more. And I wish their great memory could have told me more.”

“I know,” said Ridmark, “where we can find our answers.”

He heard a boot crunch against dead leaves.

Chapter 24 - The Five

“Wait!” said Gavin.

He found Ridmark and his friends near the creek. Ridmark had his staff in hand, Calliande at his side in her leather jerkin and heavy cloak. Caius followed in his brown robes, and Kharlacht in his blue armor.

Gavin stopped a dozen paces away, his orcish sword bouncing in its scabbard, his pack digging into his shoulders. 

Ridmark looked at him and nodded, as if unsurprised.

“Gavin,” said Calliande. “The other villagers are still by the gate.”

“I don’t think,” said Caius, “that our young friend is looking for the villagers of Aranaeus.”

“No,” said Gavin. He took a deep breath. “I would like to come with you.”

Ridmark said nothing.

“Why?” said Calliande. 

“Because,” said Gavin. “There is nothing left for me in Aranaeus. My father is a traitor, a man who sold his neighbors into slavery, and I am his son. The villagers will never forgive me for that.”

“And Rosanna,” said Caius, “is about to marry someone else.”

Gavin looked away. “Aye.”

“I can understand that,” rumbled Kharlacht. 

“You could help your neighbors rebuild,” said Caius.

“They don’t need my help,” said Gavin. “I already talked to Father Martel. Everything my father had, I inherited, and I gave it all to Father Martel and the church, to help anyone who goes hungry. And I…I would be a reminder of everything that had happened.” He shook his head. “The man whose father betrayed the village.”

Still Ridmark said nothing.

“And I want to help,” said Gavin. 

“With what?” said Calliande.

“To find the Frostborn,” said Gavin. “The blue fire a month past…that was when it all began. That’s when Agrimnalazur decided to harvest Aranaeus. The Frostborn are coming back, aren’t they?”

“They are,” said Calliande. “I am utterly certain of it.”

“And you’re going to try and stop them,” said Gavin. “Let me help.” His hands curled into fists. “Their return made Agrimnalazur destroy Aranaeus. As bad as that was, if the Frostborn return, it will be much worse, won’t it?”

Calliande and the others looked at Ridmark. He would make the decision, Gavin knew. The others would defer to his judgment. 

“If you don’t want to return to Aranaeus,” said Ridmark, “I can send you with a letter to Castra Marcaine. The Dux will take you as a squire in his court. In time, if you serve well and valiantly, you will become one of his household knights. Given the bravery you showed against the arachar and Agrimnalazur, I don’t think you will find that much of a challenge.”

It was a tempting offer. Urd Arowyn was the farthest Gavin had ever been from Aranaeus, and for a moment visions of traveling through the realm flashed through his mind, of seeing Castra Marcaine and Cintarra and Coldinium and Tarlion and all the other places Father Martel had told him about. 

“That is a kind offer, sir,” said Gavin, “and I may take you up on it. But only after this is done. After you and Lady Calliande have defeated the Frostborn, then I might go to Castra Marcaine. But this…this is important. After what happened at Aranaeus, I have to see it through to the end.”

Ridmark sighed. “I should have left Dun Licinia the moment Qazarl was dead.”

Calliande laughed. “We already had this talk.”

“I know,” said Ridmark, and his cold eyes fixed on Gavin. “You understand what I’m doing? The Frostborn are returning, and I’m going to Urd Morlemoch to find out how and why. We could be killed on the way there. If even make it there, we will very likely be killed. The Warden is even more formidable than the tales claim, and will not easily divulge his secrets.” 

“I thought I was going to die yesterday,” said Gavin. “If by following you I can help make amends for the harm my father has done, then I will do it.”

“You’ll have to be trained,” said Ridmark, “in the use of the sword and shield. It’s nothing short of a miracle you haven’t cut off your own foot yet.” 

“Well,” said Gavin, taking a deep breath, “if you’re the Gray Knight… doesn’t every knight need a squire?”