Frostborn: The False King (40 page)

“Again, if you insist upon reciting the list, we’ll be here all day,” said Ridmark. 

“All right, then,” said Calliande. “To Khald Tormen, then…and we’ll take some risks together.”

Ridmark nodded. With the help of the manetaurs, they had a better chance against the Frostborn. If they could recruit the aid of the dwarves, their chances would become far better. 

Perhaps there was indeed hope for the future.

He glanced back at the others, at Calliande, and then at the hills around them, and admitted to himself that he felt better than he had since the day that Dun Licinia had fallen. 

But grim foreboding tempered that hope. 

For they had only a chance of victory, not the certainty…and Ridmark knew that their enemies had not been idle while they had been in Bastoth. 

He knew that hard fighting awaited them yet. But when it did, he would face it alongside Calliande. He had promised to see her to the end of this, whatever it was.

Ridmark rode on with Calliande and the others.

Epilogue

Imaria Licinius Shadowbearer stood in the heart of the frozen citadel of ice and stone, gazing at the black ring of dark elven standing stones that housed the world gate. 

She still thought of herself as Imaria Licinius, even though that was not entirely accurate. Imaria Licinius was who she had been before, a weak and flawed woman in love with Tarrabus Carhaine, craving his approval and mourning her sister Aelia, blaming the man who had failed to protect her. 

Now she was something greater.

Imaria Licinius, she reflected, had simply been the larval form of Imaria Licinius Shadowbearer, the new bearer of the shadow of Incariel. 

That shadow filled her veins and flooded her mind, its whispers filling her ears and guiding her plans. 

Outside the circle of standing stones, within the vast domed chamber the Frostborn had raised over the world gate, the leaders of the Frostborn met and discussed their plans, led by Lord Commander Kajaldrakthor of the Order of the Vanguard. The Frostborn were towering figures in gray armor, their skin like frozen crystal, blue fire burning in their veins and in their eyes. Their invasion had experienced complications, and so far they had been unable to break out of the Northerland or force the fall of Castra Marcaine. Among human lords, such setbacks would have been met with angry denials or efforts to assign blame.

The Frostborn lacked such petty egos and discussed their war plans with cold rationality. Temporary setbacks of a few years were of no consequence. The fortifications along the River Moradel would keep the Anathgrimm penned up in Nightmane Forest. Meanwhile, in a few weeks, the world gate would be powerful enough to draw several more legions of medvarth and locusari warriors into Andomhaim, along with supplies from the Order of the Tower and the Order of Sorcery. The Frostborn then would have sufficient force to seize Castra Marcaine, and with the Anathgrimm bottled up in Nightmane Forest, they would have a secure grip on the Northerland.

Then the invasion of the south could begin. 

“Granted,” said Arlmagnava, a Seeker of the Order of the Inquisition, the secret police of the Frostborn, “it would have been better if our ally,” her burning eyes shifted in Imaria’s direction, “had been able to open additional gates. But even a delay of fifteen years or more does not alter our long-term plans.” Her voice was like music, inhumanly beautiful, but far colder. 

“Indeed not,” said Lord Commander Kajaldrakthor, his voice like musical thunder. “Additional gates would have been useful, but they are not necessary.”

Imaria gritted her teeth, the shadow hissing inside of her skull.

She should have been able to open more world gates. Just as a lodestone drew iron, so also did an opened world gate draw other gates to itself. So long as this gate remained open, Imaria should have been able to open new ones with relative ease. A dozen new world gates, scattered throughout Andomhaim, would have given victory to the Frostborn within a week, and she would have seized the Well within Tarlion.

Instead, the high elven archmage Ardrhythain had blocked her at every turn. 

Imaria now understood why her predecessor Tymandain Shadowbearer had been forced to move constantly. Ardrhythain had pursued him for millennia, blocking and disrupting his plans at every opportunity. If not for Ardrhythain’s interference, Shadowbearer would have brought back the Frostborn centuries before Imaria and Tarrabus had even been born. Imaria had no doubt that Ardrhythain had set Ridmark Arban on the path that led him to Urd Morlemoch, knowing that one day the damned exile would disrupt Shadowbearer’s plans. 

In fact, Imaria did not even dare to leave the citadel of the Frostborn for very long, lest Ardrhythain find her. The shadow of Incariel had given her great power, but Ardrhythain was older than humanity itself, and he had practiced magic for every one of those long millennia. For all her power, he had far more skill, and could crush her in a direct battle.

Imaria laughed to herself.

The Frostborn stopped their discussion long enough to stare at her and then began talking amongst themselves. They thought her a powerful madwoman, a useful ally that had opened the gate for them, but they had no use for her beyond that.

Let them think it. 

The Frostborn would serve her purpose in the end. 

They would serve the shadow’s purpose, for Imaria and the shadow were one. 

Ardrhythain could not attack her in the citadel because even he could not overcome the might of the Frostborn. It would take longer than she liked, yes, but in the end, she would have her freedom. She would shatter the chains of matter and space and temporality forever. The Frostborn would destroy the high elves and seize Tarlion…and she would at last claim the Well, the power she needed to free both herself and the shadow of Incariel from the chains that had bound them for the entirety of their existence…

“Then we are agreed,” said Lord Commander Kajaldrakthor. “Our efforts shall focus on securing the Northerland. Once we have a solid hold here, and the Anathgrimm are kept at bay, we will take Castra Marcaine, and proceed to our next phase of the conquest. Arlmagnava, pass our wishes to the Order of the Inquisition. They are to begin scouting Caerdracon and the lands to the south in preparation for the fall of Castra Marcaine.” 

The Frostborn commanders dispersed to continue their war, and Imaria’s smile widened.

In the end, the Frostborn would destroy every long-term threat to her goals. The high elves would be smashed, and Ardrhythain slain at last. The Order of the Magistri would be broken, and the Swordbearers hunted down and killed. In time, every single one of Imaria’s foes would be destroyed. She faced no long-term threats, not truly.

In the short-term, though…

In the short-term, she was at risk of losing everything.

“Weaver,” she said, her smile vanishing.

The man standing next to her stirred. He was thin and gaunt and grandfatherly-looking, clad in a simple white robe. He looked like a kindly old priest. 

Of course, he was no more a kindly old priest than she was simply a nobleman’s daughter. 

“Yes?” said the Weaver in his gentle voice. 

“I know what must be done,” said Imaria.

The Weaver inclined his head. Of everyone within the Enlightened of Incariel, only the Weaver understood her true goal, the true purpose of Shadowbearer. Not even Tarrabus suspected the actual truth. 

Even Tarrabus Carhaine would recoil in horror if he knew the truth.

“Command me, then,” said the Weaver.

“Find Ridmark Arban,” said Imaria, “and kill him.”

The Weaver considered that. “I thought you wished to kill him yourself.”

The shadow hissed and snarled inside of her head and heart.

“I do,” said Imaria. She hated Ridmark, hated the wretch for his failure to protect her sister. Of course, if Aelia had lived to see what Imaria had become, she would have been horrified, but Imaria still blamed Ridmark for it. “I wish to kill him with all my heart. But my freedom is more important.”

The Weaver nodded. 

“And the Keeper,” said Imaria, “is the greatest threat to my freedom.”

“I cannot face the Keeper in battle,” said the Weaver.

“It is not necessary to face her,” said Imaria. “The shadow has shown me the truth. Ridmark Arban is the Keeper’s heart. Kill him, and she shall lose purpose. Kill him, and she shall be defeated, and victory shall be mine. Go. Take the black soulstone from my chambers, find Ridmark, and kill him. The black soulstone shall allow you to overcome anyone who defends him, and you may kill him at your leisure.”

“I have been looking forward to it, Imaria Shadowbearer,” said the Weaver. “Shall I bring you his head?”

“Yes,” said Imaria. 

The Weaver bowed and departed.

Imaria turned her attention back to the snarling blue fire that lined the world gate. 

Soon, now. 

Very soon.

She would shatter this world, and have her freedom at last.

THE END

Thank you for reading FROSTBORN: THE FALSE KING. Look for Ridmark's next adventure, FROSTBORN: THE DWARVEN KING, to appear in late 2016. If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review at your ebook site of choice. To receive immediate notification of new releases, 
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A Second Author’s Note

Thank you for reading FROSTBORN: THE FALSE KING!

The FROSTBORN series gained many new readers in 2016 (thank you, all!), and consequently, I have received many emails and Facebook messages wondering how long the entire series would be. That is an eminently fair question, so I thought I would answer it here.

FROSTBORN: THE FALSE KING was the eleventh book in the series, and there will be a grand total of fifteen books. I planned for fifteen books when I plotted out the series in 2012, and the goal has always been to write fifteen books. FROSTBORN: THE DWARVEN PRINCE will be the twelfth book, and it should come out before the end of 2016. 

If all goes well, books thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen will come out in 2017. Brother Caius would probably quote James 4:13-15 about the dangers of long-term planning, but God, health, weather and life permitting, I plan to publish the last book of the FROSTBORN series in late 2017. 

Thank you all for reading, and I hope to see you later in 2016 for FROSTBORN: THE DWARVEN PRINCE. 

-Jonathan Moeller

Glossary of Characters

ACCOLON: The son of Sir Arandar and grandson of the High King. 

ARDRHYTHAIN: The last archmage of the high elves, and the founder of the Order of the Magistri and the Order of the Soulblade. 

AELIA LICINIUS ARBAN: The eldest daughter of Gareth Licinius, and the late wife of Ridmark Arban. Killed at Castra Marcaine by Mhalek. 

AGRIMNALAZUR: An urdmordar, slain by Ridmark Arban in Urd Arowyn. 

ANTENORA: A former apprentice of the last Keeper of Avalon upon Old Earth, cursed by Mordred Pendragon’s dark magic to live forever until she finds redemption. Now the apprentice of Calliande of Tarlion. 

ARANDAR PENDRAGON: A Knight of the Order of the Soulblade and current bearer of the soulblade Heartwarden. The bastard son of the High King Uthanaric Pendragon, and the father of Accolon and Nyvane. Plague killed his wife Isolde. Currently the Prince Regent of the loyalist army of Andomhaim. 

ARLMAGNAVA: A Frostborn woman, a Seeker of the Order of the Inquisition of the Dominion of the High Lords, the military Order of the Frostborn devoted to spying and recruitment of allies. 

THE ARTIFICER: A dark elven noble and wizard, formerly the apprentice of the Warden. His spirit was bound to the Iron Tower. Defeated by Ridmark and his companions. 

AVENTINE ROCARN: A knight in service to Tarrabus Carhaine. 

CADWALL GWYRDRAGON: The Prince of Cintarra, the largest city in Andomhaim.

CAIUS: A dwarven noble of Khald Tormen and a friar of the mendicant orders. The first of the dwarven kindred to convert to the church of the Dominus Christus. 

CALLIANDE: The Keeper of Tarlion, the guardian of the realm of Andomhaim against the powers of dark magic. The daughter of Joanna and Joachim, and the former student of the Magistrius Marius and the Keeper Ruth. 

CAMORAK: A Magistrius in service to Joram Agramore of Dun Licinia. Prone to drunkenness and boorish comments, but nonetheless a skilled healer. 

CARADOG LORDAC: A knight in service to Tarrabus Carhaine. 

CLAUDIUS AGRELL: A knight in service to Tarrabus Carhaine, serving as Constable of Castra Carhaine. 

CONSTANTINE LICINIUS: The son of Gareth Licinius, and a Swordbearer, wielder of the soulblade Brightherald. 

CORBANIC LAMORUS: A vassal of the High King, and current Comes of Coldinium. Now serves as Constable of Tarlion, defending the city from Tarrabus Carhaine. 

CORTIN LAMORUS: A knight and the son of Corbanic Lamorus. 

CROWLACHT: A headman of the orcish kingdom of Rhaluusk and a warrior of King Ulakhamar. Fought alongside Ridmark and his friends at the Iron Tower.

CURZONAR: A Prince of the Range, son of the Red King Turcontar and the First Queen Raszema.  

DAGMA: Sister of Jager, and seneschal of the keep of Dun Licinia.

DECIMUS: A man-at-arms under the command of Sir Ector Naxius. 

DIETER: Husband of Dagma, Jager’s sister. A skilled carpenter. 

ECTOR NAXIUS: A knight in service to Dux Sebastian of Caertigris. Familiar with the manetaurs, the tygrai, and the Range.

GARETH LICINIUS: The Dux of the Northerland, and father of Constantine, Imaria, and Aelia. 

GAVIN: A young man from the village of Aranaeus in the Wilderland, now a Swordbearer and the wielder of the soulblade Truthseeker.