Read Frostborn: The Undying Wizard Online

Authors: Jonathan Moeller

Frostborn: The Undying Wizard (19 page)

BOOK: Frostborn: The Undying Wizard
8.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Who?” said Ridmark.

Coriolus’s smile was both sad and bitter. “My downfall.”

Despite her anger, Morigna was intrigued. The Old Man had told her little about his past. Coriolus had spent a great deal of time complaining about the Magistri and the Swordbearers and the church, claiming they had failed to understand his genius, but had never given her a straight answer. 

“Victoria,” said Coriolus. “The bastard daughter of the High King’s younger brother.”

Ridmark and Calliande shared a look. 

“I take it,” said Ridmark, “that you were fond of her.”

“I was,” said Coriolus. “We met, and it was…ah, to be young again. We were quite taken with each other.”

“And then you took her into your bed,” said Ridmark.

“Yes,” said Coriolus. “It was necessary to keep it a secret, of course. I might have been a Magistrius, but I was of common birth, and she was the High King’s niece, even if she was a bastard.” He spat into the fire again. “Pendragon blood does not defile itself with the touch of a commoner,” he smirked, “but she was glad to defile herself with me.”

“Please,” said Calliande with a hint of disgust, “if you carried on an affair with this woman, there’s no need to gloat over it.”

“Oh?” said Coriolus, leering at her. “How would you know, my pretty little Magistria? So pretty, and so cold. What would you know about the pleasures of the bedchamber?” 

Caius and Gavin bristled. Morigna expected Calliande to wilt beneath the mockery, but the Magistria only offered a chilly smile. “I confess I cannot say for certainty. But given your advanced age, sir, I fear I shall not learn any of those pleasures from you.”

The Old Man cackled. “Quick-witted. I like that. A good quality in a Magistria. But while your dwarven monk and your young squire bristle in outrage over my adulterous sins, we have lost the main point.” 

“You and Victoria,” said Ridmark. “What happened?”

“The inevitable,” said Coriolus. “She became pregnant. I urged her to purge the child from her womb, or barring that, to wed me. But she so feared her father’s displeasure…and she lacked the necessary steel to rid herself of the child. A common weakness in the female sex, alas. We quarreled on the wall overlooking the harbor of Tarlion. She ran from me, tripped upon her skirts, fell down, and cracked her head.” He sighed, and to Morigna’s astonishment there was a glimmer of pain upon his face. “I rushed to help her…but it was too late. Not even my healing magic could aid her.”

“So you carried on an affair with an unmarried woman,” said Caius, “and then just she happened to accidentally die when she became pregnant?” 

“Of course you do not believe me,” said Coriolus. “Why would you? I realize that no one else would believe me, and the High King would have me beheaded for murder. I had no choice but to flee. At first I settled in the Northerland, as far from Tarlion as I could go without leaving the realm of Andomhaim entirely. But as the realm’s population grew, more settlers came to the Northerland, and so I fled into the Wilderland. Eventually I came to Moraime and settled here.” 

“Why here?” said Ridmark.

Coriolus spread his bony hands. “Why not? The hill is defensible, even without my wards, and commands an excellent view of the countryside. The town is a convenient place to obtain tools I cannot make myself. If I went any further north, I would risk venturing into the realms of the remaining dark elven princes. Any further west, and I might draw the eye of the Warden of Urd Morlemoch. Sometimes the Warden sends his servants to abduct people he finds interesting, and I have no wish to share that fate. No one who enters Urd Morlemoch ever comes out again.”

“Indeed not,” said Ridmark without a hint of expression.

“And there is one other reason, though I doubt you will believe it of me,” said Coriolus. 

“What is that?” said Ridmark.

“There is an entrance to the Deeps a few miles north of here,” said Coriolus, “and it leads to one of the dvargir cities. The dvargir come forth and raid every few years, but I turn them aside when they do. Why do you think Moraime still stands? Why do you think no one has burned it to the ground and carried its people off into slavery? Because I have kept watch over it.”

Morigna laughed. “Do you expect them to believe that, Old Man? That you have been the secret guardian of Moraime for all these years? I have never seen you lift a finger in defense of the town.”

“Dear girl,” said Coriolus, “just because you are too dense to have observed something does not mean it did not happen.” 

She started to snarl back at him, but Ridmark answered first. “So you have kept watch over the town of Moraime. How else have you passed the time in your exile?”

“By studying the secrets of earth magic, of course,” said Coriolus.

“That is forbidden to the Magistri,” said Calliande. “The power of the Well cannot be used to kill and harm mortals, but earth magic can. The Order has banned its study and use, as part of the Pact with the elven archmage Ardrhythain.”

“The Order of the Magistri is a collection of musty fools, young lady,” said Coriolus, “and they are idiots to forbid themselves the study of earth magic. There is great potential in it, potential to make Andomhaim strong.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “But that is no longer my concern. I left Andomhaim long ago, and the realm and the two Orders may do as they wish.”

“How did you meet Morigna?” said Ridmark. 

His watery eyes shifted to her, cold and indifferent.

“A praefectus appointed by the abbot governs Moraime,” said Coriolus, “but sometimes a man finds the praefectus’s rule chafing. Morigna’s mother and father were such – hunters, trappers, and poachers. Though I suppose since no King, Dux, or Comes rules in Moraime, it hardly counts as poaching. They made their home in the hills not far from here, and sold pelts to the traders who sometimes come from Coldinium.”

“A home too close,” said Ridmark, “to the entrance of the Deeps.” 

Morigna remembered the house burning, her mother screaming, the dvargir mantled in shadow as they approached.

Her magic rising up in wrath…

“I am unsure exactly what happened,” said Coriolus. “I suspect the dvargir came to take her parents as slaves, and they fought back and were killed. When the dvargir tried to take Morigna, they encountered more than they expected. You see, she was born with a natural connection to earth magic.” His tone grew drier, more lecturing, as it often did when he discussed the intricacies of magic. “Such a thing is becoming more common. When humanity first came here from Old Earth, the only magic we possessed was that borne by the Keeper of Avalon. Later Ardrhythain of Cathair Solas gave us the magic of the Soulblades and the Well. I believe that the longer humanity has lived upon this world, the more attuned we have become to its native magic. Hence the increasing number of children born with innate magical ability…”

“That is fascinating,” said Ridmark, “but it doesn’t explain how you found Morigna.” 

“I came across the scene as I returned from a journey,” said Coriolus, “and killed the dvargir. I found Morigna weeping over the corpses of her parents, and intended to deposit her with the monastery. Then I saw that she possessed magic strong enough to have killed two of the dvargir. So I took her to study her magic further.” 

Calliande frowned. “Not to…raise her? You only took her to study her magic?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” said Coriolus, irritated. “Of course I fed and clothed and housed her – a drain upon my resources, I might add. And I taught her how to use and control her magic. Not that she ever showed any gratitude for anything I did for her. Willful, rebellious child. When she turned twelve, we quarreled fiercely, and she left. She returns every few weeks, of course, when she has a question about magic. But the ungrateful, feral little child does not obey me.”

“Indeed,” said Calliande, her tone frosty. “Why should she? Given that you clearly care nothing for her.” 

A mixture of fury and embarrassment filled Morigna. What right did the Magistria have to feel sorry for her?

But a tiny part of her appreciated it.

“I taught her to use her magic,” retorted Coriolus. “And more importantly, I taught her to be strong. The world respects strength alone and nothing else. I owe her nothing. She owes me a great deal.” 

“And what, precisely, is that?” said Ridmark.

Coriolus opened his mouth, closed it again, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “As I said, a great deal.”

“I see,” said Ridmark. “Thank you for your candor. I am grateful.”

Coriolus sniffed. “As you should be.”

“Though I do have one more question,” said Ridmark.

“Of course you do,” said Coriolus.

“You didn’t raise the undead that attacked Moraime,” said Ridmark. “Who did?”

“I know not,” said Coriolus.

“Yes, the vast wisdom of the Old Man of the hills,” said Morigna. 

“I know not,” said Coriolus, “but I strongly suspect the dvargir. They’ve been active lately, quite active. There is a ruined dwarven outpost a few miles into the Deeps. The dvargir have fortified it, and have sent scouts regularly into the countryside, using their power to cloak themselves in shadow.”

“You have the ability to detect them?” said Calliande.

“Yes,” said Coriolus with a smirk. “A spell of the earth magic you despise so much. The dvargir and others who manipulate shadow magic can make themselves undetectable to spells drawn from the Well. However, their weight still presses upon the earth, and a practitioner skilled with earth magic can detect their presence.”

“You never taught me that,” said Morigna with a frown.

“I saw no need,” said Coriolus.

“Teach her the spell before we depart, please,” said Ridmark. “I suspect we shall find it useful.”

“If it removes you from my hill all the faster, I shall not object,” said Coriolus. 

And perhaps the spell would let Morigna detect the presence of Jonas. 

“One final question,” said Ridmark. “What do you know of the Enlightened of Incariel?”

“The what?” said Coriolus.

“The Enlightened of Incariel,” said Ridmark. “A secret society that wishes me dead.”

“A charming young man such as you?” said Coriolus. “I can’t imagine why anyone might wish you harm.” He spat in the fire again. “But I have never heard of them. The term Incariel I recognize. It is one of the names given to the void the dark elves worshipped in ancient days. Allegedly it was a fallen angel or demon imprisoned within the core of this world. Whether such a being actually exists or not, I do not know. Most likely it is a myth the princes of the dark elves invented to control their subjects, just as the lords of Andomhaim invented the myths of the church.”

“An invented myth?” said Caius. Morigna expected him to leap to the defense of the church, but he did not. “The dvargir and the dark elves derive their powers of shadow from something. Clearly there is more to Incariel than mere myth.”

“A natural force,” said Coriolus, “given a name through fear and superstition. One…”

“A moment,” said Calliande. “A place called Dragonfall. Do you know of it?”

Her face was calm, but Morigna thought she saw a hint of tension there.

Coriolus blinked a few times. “No, I’ve never heard of it. What is it? Some fable, perhaps, or…” 

“Thank you,” said Ridmark, rising to his feet, “for your counsel. We shall trouble you no further. If you could teach the spell of detection to Morigna before we depart, we will be grateful.”

“Very well,” said Coriolus. The Old Man’s watery eyes turned toward Morigna. “It is time for another lesson, child.”

 

###

 

Ridmark stood behind the cottage, gazing at the ring of dark elven standing stones upon the hill across the ravine.

They were more complex than the circle where Vlazur had tried to kill Calliande. Two massive rings of dark menhirs, some of them topped with lintels, stood in a ring around a low mound of earth. An altar of black stone capped the mound, still rough and jagged despite the passage of the centuries. The dark elves had used these stone circles to augment their sorcery, drawing upon the magic of the earth like a miller using a stream to drive his grindstone. 

The ruins of the dark elves he had seen, citadels like Urd Dagaash and Urd Arowyn and even Urd Morlemoch itself, had been places of beauty. Alien, eerie, disturbing beauty, but beauty nonetheless. The stone circles of the dark elves made no such pretense. Ridmark suspected the dark elves lied to themselves, as wicked men often did, claiming that they were in the right. 

But at the stone circles, all pretense was stripped away.

Calliande stepped to his side.

“Perhaps you ought to keep an eye on Morigna and Coriolus,” said Ridmark, “and make sure he doesn’t hurt her.”

“He won’t,” said Calliande. Ridmark glanced back at the others. Morigna and Coriolus stood at the far edge of the hilltop, the Old Man gesturing as he lectured. Caius and Kharlacht and Gavin sat upon the ground, cleaning their weapons and armor, but they kept an eye upon the Old Man and his apprentice. 

“My sensing spell is active,” said Calliande. “If he tries anything, I will detect it. Though he is powerful, Ridmark. He can draw on both the magic of the Well and earth magic, and God only knows what else. If he wants to fight, I don’t think I could defeat him.”

“He won’t fight,” said Ridmark. “Rjalfur was right. He is a coward.”

Calliande nodded. “You didn’t even need to threaten him very much, and he told us everything.” Her blue eyes strayed toward Morigna. “It explains a lot, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” said Ridmark. 

“I thought she might be someone like Talvinius or Alamur,” said Calliande. “Now I simply feel sorry for her.”

“Don’t tell her that,” said Ridmark. “She might bite your head off.”

“Aye, and then lay her eggs in my neck,” said Calliande. She shook her head. “No, forgive me, that is harsh. What happened to her is not her fault.” 

“But she bears responsibility,” said Ridmark, “for whatever she chooses to do next.” 

“As do well all,” said Calliande.

Coriolus threw up his hands in disgust and stalked into the cottage, slamming the door behind him. Morigna stared after him, a flicker of pain on her face. Then she shook her head, arranging her features into their usual arrogant mask, and walked to join Ridmark and Calliande.

BOOK: Frostborn: The Undying Wizard
8.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

El laberinto de oro by Francisco J. de Lys
Exit the Colonel by Ethan Chorin
Kisses From Heaven by Jennifer Greene
No Plans for Love by Ruth Ann Hixson
The Game Changer by L. M. Trio
Titan Encounter by Pratt, Kyle
A Knife in the Back by Bill Crider
Villa Blue by Isla Dean