Frostborn: The Eightfold Knife (7 page)

“Though he said nothing about Calliande and Brother Caius,” said Kharlacht.

“No,” said Ridmark. “If he disagrees, we shall have to contest them.” He looked at Calliande. If she was awake by then, she could use her magic to frighten them off. 

But why was she even here?

“What are you doing here?” said Ridmark. 

Caius snorted. “Following you. Is that not plain?”

“Pardon, sir,” said Gavin, “but your friends…who are they?”

“This is the Magistria Calliande,” said Ridmark, “and this is Brother Caius, a brother of the order of mendicants.”

“A pleasure to meet you, young sir,” said Caius with a stately bow. “Might I know your name?”

Gavin blinked. “Ah…Gavin of Aranaeus, Brother. My father is the praefectus of Aranaeus.”

Caius nodded. “In whose name does he hold the village?”

Gavin shrugged. “In the name of the village itself, I suppose. Aranaeus doesn’t actually have a lord. My father says our people left the realm long ago to be free. Though I don’t know what that really means.” He blinked. “Are you really a dwarf? I’ve never seen one before.”

Caius laughed. “All my life, and I fear I’ve lived quite a long time. Long enough that that I remember when my kindred marched alongside the High King to fight the Frostborn, though I was too young to fight back then. But we do not call ourselves the dwarves, but the khaldari. Your kindred gave us that name when…”

“Brother Caius,” said Ridmark, “you can instruct the boy in history when we have less urgent matters to discuss.” 

Caius smile, his beard rustling against his chest. “History is the urgent concern of every man.” 

Ridmark sighed. “True. But we have more urgent concerns. For one, why are you here, and how did you find me?”

“As for how we found you,” said Caius, “that is simple enough. The dagger you gave Calliande.”

Ridmark had seen it at her belt. “What about it?”

“You gave it to her as a gift, and she used it to kill Alamur,” said Caius. “Apparently, that set up some sort of magical resonance between you and the dagger. She used it to follow you.”

“Oh,” said Ridmark. He had never heard of such a thing, but obviously it worked. 

“And as for why we followed you, do you even need to ask?” said Caius.

“Yes, I do,” said Ridmark. “It is better that I go alone to find the truth.”

“Calliande said you promised to aid her,” said Caius.

Ridmark’s fingers tightened against his staff. “I did. And I shall. And I can do it best by discovering the truth about the Frostborn. She is tied to them somehow, I am sure of it, and if I find the truth about the Frostborn, I will discover the truth about her past.”

“Pardon, sir,” said Gavin, “but the Frostborn? The Frostborn are extinct. The High King destroyed them, Father Martel said so.”

Ridmark looked at the boy. “You saw the omen about three weeks ago? The blue fire?” Gavin nodded. “That was a sign that the Frostborn shall return. I first learned of it in Urd Morlemoch, a dark elven ruin ruled by an undead wizard called the Warden. I am traveling to Urd Morlemoch to force the Warden to tell me more. If the Frostborn are returning, the realm must be warned.”

Gavin gaped at him, eyes wide. 

“You’re going to fight the Warden?” said Gavin. “Have you heard the stories about him?”

“Some of them,” said Ridmark. Few in Andomhaim had heard of the Warden or Urd Morlemoch, but tales about Urd Morlemoch, stories whispered in dread and fear, were common in the Northerland and the Wilderland.

“They say he can read minds,” said Gavin, “and that he plays cruel games with his enemies, imprisoning them in dungeons constructed of their own worst sins. Or that the powers of hell come at his command, and drag his foes to the abyss.”

“I’ve met him,” said Ridmark, “and he’s actually much worse.”

Gavin’s eyes got even wider. 

“If I go there,” said Ridmark, “I’ll almost certainly be killed. There’s no reason for anyone else to come with me. None.”

Caius lifted his graying eyebrows. “You brought Kharlacht with you.”

“I fear I had nowhere else to go,” said Kharlacht. “For an orc of Vhaluusk, blood ties are paramount above all else. Yet all my kin are dead. Qazarl was the last, and he betrayed me and was slain outside the walls of Dun Licinia. I can lie down and die, I can wander the earth without purpose, or I can follow Ridmark to Urd Morlemoch and try to accomplish something of worth.” 

“Your chances of success,” said Caius, “are much higher with companions.”

Ridmark sighed. “You are mad fools, both of you.”

Caius grinned. “Perhaps. But Calliande? No, she is not mad. She is brave and strong, and she feels she owes you a debt.”

“She owes me nothing,” said Ridmark.

“The Magistria would disagree, I think,” said Caius. “And you must concede that her magic would be useful.”

Ridmark grunted. “I cannot argue with that.”

“And,” said Caius, “she has as much right to do this as you.”

“Right?” said Ridmark. “What does that have to do with it?”

“She has lost her memory,” said Caius, “but she was tied to the Order of the Vigilant. You know this as well as I do, my friend. If she was one of the Vigilant, then it is her duty to stand against the return of the Frostborn. Perhaps even more than yours.”

“Her duty,” said Ridmark. He sighed. “I had not considered that. I thought she might go to Tarlion, seek aid from the Masters of the Magistri in recovering her memory, or that she might search the ruins of the Tower of Vigilance for clues.”

“After what happened with Alamur and Talvinius,” said Caius, “you can see why she might not want to trust the Magistri. And we have both been at the Tower of Vigilance. There is nothing there but empty stone and crumbling walls.”

Ridmark sighed, closed his eyes for a moment. 

“You are determined, aren’t you?” said Ridmark. “Both of you.” He looked at Kharlacht. “All three of you.” 

“I am,” said Caius. “As Calliande is.”

“As I am,” said Kharlacht. “I will see this through to the end.”

“So be it,” said Ridmark. “I tried to dissuade you. Follow me to Urd Morlemoch if you will.”

“So you will not slip off in the morning?” said Caius.

“I will not,” said Ridmark. “You mad fools can follow me to your deaths if you wish.”

“Well,” said Caius. “We must all die and enter the kingdom of the Dominus Christus someday. We might as well do it while attempting a great deed.” 

“Though,” said Ridmark, looking at Gavin, “we shall have to stop by Aranaeus first.”

“For supplies?” said Caius.

“And other things,” said Ridmark. “You saw those dead beastmen?” Caius nodded. “The packs of beastmen think the men of Aranaeus have been taking their females and young. The men of Aranaeus think the beastmen have been kidnapping people from within the village.”

“And so you think,” said Caius, “that something else has been preying upon both the beastmen and the villagers?”

“I’m certain of it,” said Ridmark. “We came across Gavin just as the beastmen were about to tear him to pieces, and I promised I would look into the disappearances. After Calliande rests, we’ll proceed to Aranaeus, and take Gavin back to his father.”

Gavin stared at them with wide eyes. 

“Gavin?” said Ridmark.

“It seems,” said Gavin, “that I have fallen in with companions of great renown. You speak of so many strange things.”

“It is,” said Kharlacht, “quite a long story.”

Ridmark looked at Caius. “You can tell it from the beginning. Given how much you enjoy talking.”

“All men have their gifts,” said Caius. He cleared his throat. “Well. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth, and…”

“Start,” said Ridmark, “a little sooner than that.”

###

A faint buzzing filled Calliande’s ears.

She saw things. Remembered things. A sad old man in a white Magistrius’s robe, watching her. Fire and frost contesting each other, and a gash in the skin of the heavens, a gash that burned with cold blue flame. Tall, gaunt figures in armor the color of hard gray ice, eyes like blue fire in their crystalline faces. Death followed in their wake, ice choking the lands, corpses rising to fight at their sides.

Calliande tried to focus upon the memories, but they slipped through her fingers like smoke.

But she remembered other things, hard and clear. Shadowbearer’s mercury-colored eyes, gazing at her. Orcs and men struggling below a stone wall. A tall, lean man in wool and leather with close-cropped black hair and blue eyes, a wooden staff in his hand as he fought with the fury of the archangels themselves.

Ridmark.

Calliande heard a voice. 

Caius, telling a story.

“And then Ridmark, Kharlacht, and Lady Calliande returned from the kobold village,” said Caius, “and we ran back to Thainkul Agon as fast as our legs could carry us.”

An amazed laugh answered him. “You truly did that?” It was a young man’s voice, deep though it cracked every few words. “Truly?”

“Aye,” said Ridmark. “It was the best plan I could think of at the time. And it is only God’s grace that we are not all dead.” 

“So then the kobolds raised their own dead and sent them after you?” said the boy. “That’s monstrous.”

“No,” said Caius. “No, I fear something far darker than a kobold shaman set those creatures after us.”

Calliande’s eyes opened, and she sat up.

“Shadowbearer,” she said. 

The others fell silent.

Calliande sat near a campfire, wrapped in a blanket. It was night, and the firelight illuminated an empty clearing. Ridmark, Caius, and Kharlacht sat around the fire, talking to the curly-haired boy she had seen at the river. Her head throbbed, and she felt a bit woozy, but in no danger of falling over.

“Calliande.” Ridmark knelt next to her, one arm holding her steady. “How are you?”

“Still alive,” she said. “Which is more than I expected.” 

“Yes,” said Ridmark. “Those undead kobolds. Caius said you think Shadowbearer sent them after you. Did…”

“Aye,” said Calliande, rubbing at her aching head. “Aye, he did.”

“That many kobolds,” said Ridmark. “Those must have been all the kobolds left in the village of the Blue Hand.” 

“They were,” said Calliande. “He killed them all and sent them after us. After me, specifically.” 

She felt a chill. If she had been at Dun Licinia when the kobolds caught up to her, hundreds of people might have died. 

Ridmark frowned. “If he could find you, why not come after you himself?”

“I don’t know,” said Calliande. She took a deep breath and got to her feet, Ridmark helping her up. 

“You can stand?” he said.

“I think so,” she said. He let go of her arm, and she took another deep breath, and then another. The clearing did not spin around her. 

“Why are you here?” he said.

“Following you,” said Calliande. “I…” She looked at the others. “Come with me and we will talk.” 

Kharlacht, Caius, and the boy looked at them for a moment, and then Caius resumed his tale, continuing with their journey from Thainkul Agon to the walls of Dun Licinia. Ridmark led her to the edge of the clearing, out of earshot of the others. A dead kobold lay there. 

“Why did you bring a dead kobold to the camp?” said Calliande, wrinkling her nose at the odor. Of course, she had not bathed since leaving Dun Licinia. But she still smelled better than a rotting kobold.

“Because of the scent,” said Ridmark. “There are beastmen loose in the woods, and they think the men from a nearby village kidnapped their females and young. Kharlacht and I encountered them before we found you. I forced their alpha to submit, but if they change their minds, I hope the smell of dead kobold will scare them off.” 

“You forced a lupivir alpha to submit,” said Calliande, “and you’re still alive? And unhurt? You speak of the most remarkable deeds like a man discussing the weather.” 

Ridmark shrugged. “It was that or have the lupivirii tear out our throats.” He hesitated, looked at the dark trees, and then looked back at her. “Why are you here?”

“Didn’t Caius tell you?” said Calliande. “He is a noble and kindly man, but I doubt he could stop talking to save his life.”

“He told me,” said Ridmark, “but I would prefer to hear it from you. Why are you here?”

“Why did you leave without telling me?” said Calliande.

“You know why,” said Ridmark. “I am going to Urd Morlemoch, and it will probably kill me. There is no need for anyone else to die,” he glanced at the campfire, “though I seem unable to dissuade people from following me.” 

He did not know his own charisma, Calliande realized, did not know how his valor inspired people to follow him. Had he asked it of them, Sir Joram and Sir Constantine and all the fighting men of Dun Licinia would have followed him to Urd Morlemoch, and he could have assailed the ruins with an army. Instead he went alone, or as close to alone as he could manage.

He knew he might die, but Ridmark did not think he deserved to live.

“You promised,” said Calliande, “to help me recover my memory.”

His face softened somewhat. “I have not forgotten it. You were once of the Order of the Vigilant. Whatever happened to you, whatever the reason you were sealed below the Tower, it has something to do with the Frostborn. You awoke the moment the omen of blue fire filled the sky. If I find the truth of the Frostborn, I find the truth about you.”

“Then let me come with you,” said Calliande. “This is my fight, as much as it is yours.” She shook her head. “More, even, since it seems it has been my fight since before your grandfather was even born.”

Ridmark’s mouth twisted. “It seems I cannot stop you. I already agreed with Caius. You can travel with me, and I will not hinder you or slip away. But it is folly. I wish you would have stayed in Dun Licinia.”

“Why?” said Calliande. “You were keen enough to accept Kharlacht’s help.” 

He scowled. “Kharlacht followed me from Dun Licinia. With all his kin dead, he has nowhere else to go. But you…you could go back to Dun Licinia, or to Tarlion, ask the Magistri for help…”

“From what I saw of Alamur,” said Calliande, “I would not entrust the Magistri with a cup of water, let alone my memories. And if I had stayed in Dun Licinia, I would have been there when the kobolds attacked. We might have driven off the kobolds, but Shadowbearer will not forget me.”