Frostborn: The World Gate (7 page)

“The Magistri and the Swordbearers drove back the urdmordar and threw down their empire,” said Ridmark. He pointed at Calliande. “We have the Keeper.” He gestured at Arandar and Gavin. “We have not one but two Swordbearers. We have Antenora, who wields a kind of magic Rhogrimnalazur will never have seen before. We have Mara, who is something that neither the Warden of Urd Morlemoch nor the Traveler of Nightmane Forest had ever seen in all their long lives.”

Arandar shook his head. “A lone Swordbearer has only overcome an urdmordar maybe three or four times in Andomhaim’s history.”

“Ridmark did it,” said Morigna.

“Ridmark got lucky,” said Ridmark. “But we don’t have one Swordbearer. We have two. And Swordbearers who overcome urdmordar usually have the aid of a Magistrius. We don’t have a Magistrius. We have the Keeper of Andomhaim.”

“Then,” said Rakhaag, a strange mixture of disbelief and anger in his voice, “then you propose to…to hunt an urdmordar?” 

“Yes,” said Ridmark. “We will go to Urd Cystaanl and kill Rhogrimnalazur.” 

Morigna let out a shocked little laugh. “By your usual standards of recklessness, that is…”

“Madness?” said Jager.

“No,” said Calliande. “No, it’s not. Not for us, not any longer.” She looked at Ridmark. “It was madness when we fought Agrimnalazur at Urd Arowyn. It was madness when we went into Urd Morlemoch and walked into the Warden’s trap. Now, though…now I am the Keeper again, and we have two Swordbearers with us.”

“What are you saying?” said Caius. 

“I think Ridmark is right,” said Calliande. “I think we can fight Rhogrimnalazur and win.” 

“We face danger whatever choice we make,” said Ridmark. “Rhogrimnalazur might send her arachar to kill us. Or she might come in pursuit of us herself. But if we take the fight to her, we can offer battle on our own terms. If we defeat her or drive her from Urd Cystaanl, we can follow the bank of the River Moradel to the Black Mountain. We will gain several days on Shadowbearer, and if we hasten, we might even be there waiting when he arrives.” 

“He’s right,” said Calliande, her fingers tightening against the staff of the Keeper. It was as familiar to her as her own hand, and had been with her for so many miles, so many battles. So many centuries. “We can do this. We can defeat Rhogrimnalazur. What is more, we must do this. We have to stop Shadowbearer…and we cannot let Rhogrimnalazur delay us.”

For a moment no one said anything. 

At last Jager shook his head and laughed. “Well, we’ve followed you two into Urd Morlemoch and Khald Azalar. What’s another mad gamble?”

“I am a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade,” said Arandar. “It is my duty to defend the realm of Andomhaim from dark magic, and urdmordar are among the most powerful wielders of dark magic. If you will go into battle against Rhogrimnalazur, then I shall follow you.” 

“Where the Keeper goes, I follow,” said Antenora, though her yellow eyes flicked towards Gavin as she said it. 

“Your logic is sound,” said Caius.

“I agree,” said Kharlacht. “Better to take the battle to the foe than to wait for her to find us.” 

“Shadowbearer is our main foe,” said Mara. “The sooner we can come to grips with him, the better.” 

“How fine and splendid that we are all in agreement,” said Morigna. “It is one thing to say we shall kill an urdmordar, quite another to accomplish it. How shall we do so?” 

Calliande looked at Ridmark again.

“I have an idea,” said Ridmark. 

Chapter 4: Starving Shadows

After Ridmark explained his plan to the others, he left the ring fort, making his way east to the web-choked forest and towards the ruins of Urd Cystaanl. Calliande and Antenora would be busy with their preparations for a few hours, and if the others would protect the Keeper and her apprentice as they worked. For that matter, nearly two hundred lupivirii circled the base of the hill, come to aid the Staffbearer as she prepared for war against Shadowbearer. The beastmen had senses far sharper than those of humans or dwarves or orcs, and they would smell the arachar warriors long before they approached. 

Evidently the tainted blood of the arachar stank. Rakhaag had complained of it at some length. 

Morigna insisted upon accompanying him. Ridmark would have preferred that she remain safe with the others at the ruined fort, but he knew he could not dissuade her. For that matter, she did have a point. Ridmark had better chances with help than he did alone. Of all his companions, she knew the most about the wilderness, about moving silently through a forest.

He just didn’t want to risk her life. 

Of course, a ruined fort at the edge of an urdmordar’s demesne was hardly safe, so she might as well come with him.

They paused at the edge of the forest, Morigna’s eyes fluttering as she cast a spell, purple fire playing about her left hand, her bow in her right hand. 

“There,” she said, opening her black eyes and straightening up. “I have located some ravens. They will fly overhead and keep watch. Though it will be difficult to keep control of them. One suspects that wild animals avoid this forest.” 

Ridmark looked at the webbed branches. Here and there dead birds were stuck within the stands like flies in the web of a normal spider. 

“It’s not surprising,” said Ridmark. 

Morigna nodded. “Kiss me.”

Ridmark blinked and looked away from the forest. “What?”

“For luck,” said Morigna. “Is that not the tradition?”

“You don’t believe in luck,” said Ridmark. 

She smiled. She did not do that very often, but when she did, it made her look much less severe. It made Ridmark wonder what she would have been like if Coriolus had not murdered her parents and tried to twist her into a vessel for his corrupted soul. “Then kiss me anyway.” 

He did. They had a bad habit of doing this at the edge of danger, and it had almost gotten them killed in the Torn Hills. Of course, the only time they were ever alone was when they went scouting together. Ridmark wondered what it would be like to live with her in peace, to find somewhere quiet where they could dwell without rushing off to risk their lives.

Then he didn’t think about anything else. Her kisses had that effect on him. 

At last Ridmark made himself pull away. Morigna looked up at him, her eyes smoldering. 

“What,” she whispered, “are you thinking?” 

“That the edge of an urdmordar’s forest is not the place for this,” said Ridmark. 

Morigna looked back at the trees. “Alas. You are likely right.” 

“Let’s go,” said Ridmark. “Have your ravens keep watch from any groups of arachar. I suspect the branches will obscure their sight, but a large band of arachar warriors should be visible.”

“They will be,” said Morigna. “Many of the trees are dead and have lost all their leaves.”

“All the better,” said Ridmark, and they headed back into the forest. 

There were no roads, but there were trails, paths the arachar and the spiderlings used when Rhogrimnalazur sent them forth to carry out her bidding. Ridmark spotted one such trail and followed it east, his eyes sweeping the trees and his ears straining for any signs of enemies. He suspected the failed attack at the hill had thrown the arachar in disarray, that Rhogrimnalazur would take a few hours to decide what to do next. 

So far, at least, his suspicion had proven correct. 

“Here,” murmured Ridmark, beckoning to Morigna as he stepped off the path. A dead tree stood there, wreathed in crumbling webbing, five withered corpses bound to its trunk. Ridmark pulled on one of the smaller branches and it came off in his hand. He looked around, spotted a stretch of ground free of plants and anything flammable, and dropped the branch in the center. 

“What are you doing?” said Morigna.

“Making sure that I’m right,” said Ridmark, going to one knee next to the branch. 

“One suspects you are about to do something dramatic,” said Morigna. “I am reminded of the marsh gas you burned to deal with Rotherius and the assassins of the Red Family. Or the pine forest you burned when we tried to steal the soulstone back from Sir Paul Tallmane. ”

“That,” said Ridmark, “was the best I could come up with at the time.” They had spent a lot of time trying to get that damned soulstone back, first from Paul Tallmane and then from Shadowbearer. Ridmark put his staff on the ground and drew his dagger and a piece of flint from his belt. “I’m hoping this will be a little more effective.”

He struck a spark over the branch.

The old webbing caught fire at once, wreathing the branch in flame, and the dried wood began to burn. Ridmark jumped back as the branch blazed with hot fire and then went dark, crumbling to ashes and hot coals. 

“That burned faster than it should have,” said Morigna.

“The webbing,” said Ridmark. “Whatever substance that makes urdmordar webbing so sticky is also quite flammable.” He scratched his jaw. He really needed a shave, but there had not been time for such luxuries after they had left Khald Azalar in haste. “Probably it’s to keep the victims of the urdmordar from burning their way free from the webs. Light a web on fire and you’ll kill anyone entangled within it. We almost found that out the hard way at Urd Arowyn, when we freed Agrimnalazur’s captives from the central tower. The villagers from Aranaeus suggested that we burn the webs down, but Calliande remembered that urdmordar webbing burned so quickly. We might have killed most of the captives by accident otherwise.” 

“So what happens when Antenora begins flinging fire around the forest?” said Morigna. 

“If Antenora starts throwing fire around the forest,” said Ridmark, “it may be to our advantage. I need to see if the terrain will work for what I have in mind. Come on.” 

He retrieved his staff, returning the flint and dagger to his belt, and led the way to the east. Ridmark kept away from the path. If anyone came by, he and Morigna would have ample opportunity to hide. Twice he saw small groups of arachar warriors hurrying along, and he and Morigna vanished into the trees, taking cover until the orcs passed. The arachar seemed in some distress. Likely they were going to see if Ridmark and his companions still occupied the ruined hill fort. 

Knowing the lupivirii, the scouts would not return to report.

The ground sloped downward, and the smell of the air started to change. The dying forest stank of musty webbing and rotting flesh, but now the wet smell of a living river came to Ridmark’s nostrils. He saw a small hill near the trail, and scrambled up to its top, looking above the treetops.

The River Moradel stretched away to the east, Urd Cystaanl rising from its edge like the wreckage of a half-drowned ship. This far north, the river was not as wide as it would be when it reached Tarlion, but it was still a half-mile from bank to bank. A peninsula jutted into the water, and the ruined white walls and pale towers of Urd Cystaanl rose from the rocky land. The dark elves’ sense of aesthetics was alien to human minds, and to Ridmark’s eyes the ruin looked both beautiful and distorted, almost like a fever dream. Even ruined, the fortress possessed a terrible beauty and strange grandeur. Once the dark elves had believed themselves the masters of the world, but now the urdmordar ruled in the ruins of their grand empires. 

Ridmark considered the fortress. It was not large, at least compared to the other dark elven ruins he had seen, and a tall keep rose from the center of the fortress, small towers jutting from the crumbling curtain wall. Great breaches marked the wall, and the gates lay in broken wreckage. Entering Urd Cystaanl would not be a challenge.

Getting out again would be harder. 

To the north of the ruins, along the river’s bank, Ridmark saw a large village. Most of the buildings were round houses of stone with conical thatched roofs, the preferred style of houses built by the orcs of the Wilderland. The trees around the village had been cleared, creating fields of crops, though the webbed trees surrounded the farmland. Ridmark wondered what it would be like for the orcish children to grow up in such a place, surrounded by the mummified corpses of Rhogrimnalazur’s victims, knowing that their urdmordar goddess might choose to consume them at any time. 

Perhaps he could free the arachar of that.

Assuming they didn’t kill him first. 

“I do not think we should come any closer,” said Morigna, her voice a faint whisper, her breath hot against his ear. “Note the watchtowers at the edge of the fields. My ravens see guards within the towers. Any closer, and the arachar might see us.”

“Or the spiderlings in Urd Cystaanl,” murmured Ridmark. He looked for a while longer, noting the terrain and fixing it in his mind. His plan would probably work, he decided. If Antenora and Calliande worked their spells at the right time, they could isolate Rhogrimnalazur from her servants and attack the urdmordar and the spiderlings without any interference. 

Of course, a plan often fell apart when confronted with an actual battle. 

“Good enough,” said Ridmark. “Let’s get back to the others.”

Morigna nodded, and Ridmark led the way down the hill. Together they made their way through the web-choked forest, keeping away from the paths. Ridmark walked in silence, and Morigna followed suit, moving as quietly as a ghost over the uneven ground.

She let out a little laugh as they approached the edge of the forest. 

“What is it?” said Ridmark, looking around.

“It occurs to me,” said Morigna, “that whenever we are alone together, we always seem to be heading into some deadly danger.” 

Ridmark grunted. “We’ve been walking into deadly danger together from the moment we met. Coriolus’s pet undead were trying to kill you that first day.” 

“That was foolish of him,” murmured Morigna. “He spent years preparing me to serve as a vessel of his spirit. He could have lost all that work if one of his undead ripped off my head.” 

“That was my fault,” said Ridmark. “Mine and Calliande’s. Shadowbearer wanted us dead and the soulstone recaptured. So he handed that task off to Coriolus. I suppose Coriolus’s fear of him was greater than his desire for immortality.” 

“He did not wish to fail Shadowbearer, it would seem,” said Morigna.