Frostborn: The False King (26 page)

A rumble of agreement went up from the Princes on Curzonar’s side of the garden. 

“Well spoken, brother,” said Kurdulkar. “Well spoken, indeed. Your bellicosity does you credit. Yet I wonder if your lust for blood blinds you from the greater opportunities before us.”

“And what opportunities are those?” said Curzonar. 

“Need the Frostborn be our enemies?” said Kurdulkar.

Calliande stiffened a little, and Ridmark’s hand tightened against his staff. Here came the greatest danger, he knew. If Kurdulkar worshiped the shadow of Incariel, that meant he would think like Tarrabus. Like Tarrabus, Kurdulkar would try to use the Frostborn to his advantage…perhaps even to ally with them. 

“The Frostborn are our enemies, brother,” spat Curzonar. “We fought against them for decades. I am sure the arbiters would be willing to recite the history for you, should you have forgotten the lessons of your childhood.”

Another rumbling laugh went up from Curzonar’s supporters. 

“The Keeper seeks allies against the Frostborn,” said Kurdulkar, “but I think it would be to our advantage to ally with the Frostborn against the humans and the orcs. Together we can crush them utterly.”

“And do you think, Prince Kurdulkar,” said Calliande, “that the Frostborn will not turn upon you once the conquest is complete? That they will not enslave you and make you into subjugated vassals?”

Kurdulkar smiled as he stared at Calliande.

“I think, Keeper,” said Kurdulkar, “that a great opportunity lies before the Hunters. A power has been offered to us. We are the greatest hunters and warriors upon this world. We can become greater still. This power will let us subjugate the entire world, keeping all other kindreds as our cattle. This power will let us become gods ruling over the world in immortal power forever.” 

Ridmark had heard many such speeches from the Enlightened of Incariel since the first time they had tried to kill him in Aranaeus, and it was chilling to hear the familiar words from the tongue of a manetaur prince. 

“You speak of the power the dark elves served,” said Tazemazar. “You speak of what the humans call the shadow of Incariel.”

“I am brave enough to walk that path, arbiter,” said Kurdulkar. “Are you brave enough to follow me?” 

“This is folly,” said Curzonar. “That power destroyed the dark elves. Once the elven kindred ruled this world, and the shadow of Incariel ripped them apart in endless civil wars until only remnants linger. We should not seek to repeat their madness.”

“You seek to change us, Kurdulkar, Prince of the Range,” said Tazemazar. “You seek to change the very nature of the Hunters.”

“Yes!” said Kurdulkar. “I do seek it. I deny it not! The arbiters seek to keep us in stasis as we have been for millennia. But a predator must change and grow, or it dies. We were not always as we are now. Must we remain that way forever? Once we were the servants of the dark elves, but we broke free. We became more than what we were. Now the shadow of Incariel offers us a chance to grow further, to become even more than we already are.”

“You speak foolishness,” said Tazemazar. “We revolted against the dark elves, yes. We did not change ourselves. We remained the Hunters, and did not become freakish abominations enslaved to the twisted shadow of Incariel.”

“That is what you seek!” thundered Curzonar. “I know it well, Kurdulkar. You seek to transform us into a kindred of monsters, twisted by the dark shadow you have chosen to worship in your madness. I will not stand for it.”

Kurdulkar sneered. “You have little choice in the matter. Already many have seen the truth, and soon more shall be drawn to the strength of true power. We shall rule this world like gods, and you cannot avert our destiny.” 

Curzonar growled a scornful laugh. “Gods? Indeed. The would-be god cannot even muster the courage to fight the Frostborn. You will not become a god if the Frostborn kill you first, Kurdulkar.”

“You misunderstand,” said Kurdulkar, a glint in his golden eyes. “We shall ally with the Frostborn and use their strength to destroy all our enemies. Once we have prevailed, we shall use the shadow of Incariel to destroy the Frostborn, and we shall have undisputed dominion over the world for all eternity.”

“The Frostborn are too strong for you to destroy, Prince Kurdulkar,” said Calliande. “Certainly not with the shadow of Incariel, which is a treacherous weapon that will turn upon you in the end.”

“Heed not her words!” said Kurdulkar. “The Keeper comes among us to poison us with her lies, to make us weak and feeble. I offer the Hunters a path to greatness…and the first step upon that path is to slay the lying ambassadors who have come to us.”

Tazemazar smote the end of his staff against the ground, purple fire crackling around his fingers. “You dare to threaten an ambassador to the Red King’s court?”

“They are not ambassadors but spies and saboteurs!” said Kurdulkar.

In one smooth motion, he leaped from his dais, drawing his sword and axe as he did, and his khalaths and warriors rose to their feet and followed him. Ridmark stepped in front of Calliande, putting her behind him. He heard the hiss of steel as Gavin and Caius and Third and Kharlacht drew their weapons, a flare of fire as Antenora began summoning power and a burst of white light as Camorak began a spell. 

“Defend the ambassadors!” said Curzonar, leaping from his dais, his warriors following him.

“Kill them!” roared Kurdulkar.

Ridmark looked around, his mind racing. They were caught between two furious bands of manetaurs. With Calliande’s magic and Antenora’s fire, they could cut their way free, but they would still be in the heart of Bastoth, and ambassadors who brought violence to their guests’ home usually were not offered any protections…

“Enough!”

The Red King’s roar boomed over the courtyard like a thunderclap. 

Ridmark looked up to see Turcontar glaring down at them.

“I am old,” snarled Turcontar, “but I am yet the Red King, a fact my sons have seem to have forgotten! I alone receive and dismiss ambassadors to the Hunters!”

“These are not ambassadors, father,” said Kurdulkar, “but villains, come to…”

“If they have come to work harm in secret,” said Turcontar, “they have done a poor job of it by presenting themselves openly according to the laws and customs of the Hunters!” Most of the Princes laughed at that. “I will not have the blood of ambassadors shed in Bastoth! The Red King does not break his given word. If you think to supplant me, Kurdulkar, perhaps it is time you learned that.”

“I have learned from you well, father,” said Kurdulkar, that strange glint in his eyes again. “Well indeed. I have given my word that these false ambassadors shall die, and so they shall perish…”

He took another few steps forward, and Turcontar moved.

The Red King might have been old, but his strength had not yet abandoned him. One moment he sat atop his dais of boulders, glaring down at Kurdulkar. The next he had leaped from the rocks, landing between Ridmark and Kurdulkar. Turcontar surged forward with a furious roar, and Kurdulkar met him. For a moment the two manetaurs struggled, raking at each other with their paws, jaws snapping, hands reaching for throats.

Then Kurdulkar was on his knees, breathing hard, his head bent back to expose his throat.

He was submitting. For a moment Ridmark wondered if Turcontar would tear out his son’s throat then and there, but the Red King let out a furious growl and stepped back. Turcontar knew he was aging, and he knew that Curzonar and Kurdulkar were the most likely Princes to replace him.

He was testing them, seeing which of his sons was worthy of his throne.

“I yield, father,” rasped Kurdulkar. “Your will prevails. The ambassadors are not to be harmed.”

Turcontar snarled again and turned away, showing his back to Kurdulkar in a gesture of fearlessness. It was also likely to conceal just how hard Turcontar was breathing, his sides rising and falling like a blacksmith’s bellows. 

“You think too much,” said Turcontar, waving a clawed hand at Kurdulkar’s kneeling form. “Dreaming of grand plans and phantasmal futures when you should focus on the prey that is within reach of your claws. If the Red King murders ambassadors before his throne, the Hunters shall face war on all sides. We are the finest warriors under the sun, but we are not invincible, and we can be overcome.”

Curzonar started to speak, and Turcontar whirled to face him.

“And you!” said Turcontar. “You think too little. Ready to rush off to war at the first cry of another kindred’s ambassador. The Hunter is patient. The Hunter lays his traps and waits for the prey to come to him, striking when the moment is correct. The Hunter does not rush off hither and yon like a drunkard in pursuit of wine!”

“I shall be guided by your counsel, father,” said Curzonar, lowering his eyes. 

Turcontar growled at him, paced once in a circle, and then turned to face Ridmark and Calliande. 

“I greet you, ambassadors of Queen Mara of Nightmane Forest, and am pleased that you have come,” said Turcontar. “Your words about the threat of the Frostborn are wise, and I shall give them full consideration. Yet many other troubles beset the Hunters and the tygrai at this time, and I must take those into account as well. You have secured lodgings within the city?”

“At the Inn of the River, lord Red King,” said Calliande.

“That is well,” said Turcontar. “The keeper of the Inn knows how to attend to the comforts of humans. Hear me!” His voice rose, snarling over the courtyard. “I, Turcontar, Red King of the Hunters, decree that the ambassadors of the Queen of Nightmane Forest are given the freedom of the city! They may go where they wish, and anyone who attacks them or their retainers or their bondsmen or their bondswomen shall know my wrath.”

Kurdulkar showed his fangs in a silent snarl, just for a second, but his face had returned to calm by the time Turcontar’s eyes swung in his direction. 

“We thank you for your hospitality, Red King,” said Calliande. 

“We shall speak again,” said Turcontar. 

Without another word the Red King turned and strode around the base of his dais, his warriors, wives, concubines, and tygrai soldiers falling in behind him. They walked through a wide archway in the red wall on the other end of the garden, vanishing into the stone heart of the palace. One by one the other Princes gathered their retinues and departed, heading for the archway on the far end of the garden. Kurdulkar’s warriors gathered tight around him, and Ridmark bade the others wait. A crowd was forming around the archway as the Princes left, and it would be easy for an assassin to slip a quiet blade into Calliande’s back. Kurdulkar had made it quite clear that he wanted Calliande dead, and Ridmark did not intend to give him that chance. 

“I’ve never been an ambassador before,” said Gavin at last. “Does it always go like that?”

“Actually,” said Caius, “that was one of the better negotiations I’ve seen. No one was killed.” 

“God and his saints,” said Camorak, shaking his head. “I was sure that it would come to violence.”

“It almost did,” said Ridmark, voice grim. If Turcontar had been a little slower, the manetaurs might have erupted into civil war then and there…and Turcontar had let the argument between his two most powerful sons go on too long. Ridmark suspected that ten or even five years ago, Turcontar would have been vigorous enough to nip the argument in the bud. 

The Red King was clearly tired…and one of the two most likely Princes to take his place was a devotee of the shadow of Incariel. 

“What do we do now, my lady Keeper?” said Camorak.

That was a very good question. 

The grass rustled, and a manetaur warrior approached. Ridmark started to tense, and then he recognized Martellar from the battle in the Vale of Stone Death. 

“Keeper of Andomhaim, greetings,” said Martellar. “Prince Curzonar invites you and your companions to his palace, that you might discuss matters of importance to you both.” 

“That is what we are doing now,” said Ridmark. “Lead the way.”

Chapter 15: Brothers

Calliande walked alongside Ridmark as Martellar led them deeper into Prince Curzonar’s palace. At Curzonar’s insistence, Ridmark and Calliande came alone, while the others waited in the palace’s outer courtyard. Antenora and Gavin and Third had not been pleased, but Calliande had persuaded them it would be safe for a short while. In truth, Curzonar’s palace was probably the safest place for them in Bastoth. The Red King had proclaimed them under his protection, but Calliande had no doubt that Kurdulkar and his followers would kill them if given the opportunity. 

Curzonar’s palace was smaller than the palace of the Red King but no less ornate. It had lush gardens and broad courtyards surrounding the central step pyramid of red granite, its apex rising hundreds of feet over the city. Martellar led them through an arcade of red stone, its walls covered with reliefs of manetaurs and tygrai in battle against dvargir and dark elves. Tygrai servants went back and forth on their errands, some tending to the grounds, others toiling in the palace’s workshops. Calliande wondered how many Princes had held this palace over the centuries, how many of them had been killed in battle, how many times the tygrai servants and soldiers in the palace had transferred their oaths of allegiance after their previous Prince had fallen. To the manetaurs, it all seemed natural, but Calliande could not help but think that it was savage and bloodthirsty.

Yet to the manetaurs, humans probably seemed mad and bloodthirsty. 

They climbed the side of the pyramid, ascending to its flat, broad top. From here they had a fine view of Bastoth, the boats upon the river, and the plains stretching away to the broken, jagged mountains of the north. Three already awaited them there. The first was Prince Curzonar, wearing his red armor. The second was the arbiter Tazemazar, face shadowed in his crimson cowl, and the third was First Queen Raszema, her golden jewelry glittering in the sun.

“Lord Prince,” said Martellar. “As you asked. The Keeper and the magister militum.”

“Thank you,” said Curzonar. “Await us at the base of the pyramid. See that we are not disturbed and watch for Kurdulkar’s spies.”