Frostborn: The First Quest (12 page)

The Warden’s face showed no expression. “Our game was most enjoyable.”

“You’re welcome,” said Ridmark.

“And in gratitude, I’m going to give you a boon,” said the Warden. “Two, in fact.” 

Ridmark mouth’s dried up. “There’s no need.”

The Warden smiled. “I insist. The first boon is information. A secret known only to a very few.”

“And what secret is that?” said Ridmark. 

“The Frostborn are returning,” said the Warden.

Ridmark said nothing. The urdmordar Gothalinzur had claimed that the Frostborn were turning, that she had been kidnapping the villagers to stock her larder for the eternal winter the Frostborn would bring.

“But you know this already, don’t you?” said the Warden. “You slew an urdmordar, and the urdmordar hate to show themselves. They prefer to stay in the shadows. The only thing that could make an urdmordar show herself is the return of the Frostborn. They are coming back, Sir Ridmark.”

“They can’t,” said Ridmark. “The High King and the Dragon Knight and Keeper destroyed them utterly.”

“They did,” said the Warden. “Utterly. But they will return nonetheless.”

“I already knew that,” said Ridmark.

“Yet no one believes you,” said the Warden. “And they will not believe you until it is far too late.” 

“I already knew that,” said Ridmark. “That hardly counts as a boon.” 

“Then I will tell you something no other mortal creature upon this world knows,” said the Warden. “I know when the Frostborn will return.”

“When?” said Ridmark. 

“Soon,” said the Warden. “Not even I can pinpoint the exact day with any accuracy. But it will be soon. Within your lifetime, assuming you do not die within the next hour. No more than another twenty years. I cannot pinpoint when, but I know which day it will be.”

“And which day is that?” said Ridmark.

“The day of the omen,” said the Warden. “The day blue fire fills the sky from horizon to horizon in broad daylight. When you see that sign, Swordbearer, you will know that the time has come. The return of the Frostborn will be imminent…and they shall destroy this world and everything in it.” 

“The two Orders and the High King defeated the Frostborn once before,” said Ridmark. “We can do so again.”

“No,” said the Warden. “You will not. Your realm of Andomhaim is like a dead tree. It still stands, but corruption has eaten up its heart. One strong wind will blow it over.” 

Ridmark remembered the shadow he had seen behind Tarrabus Carhaine, the shadow the phantasm of Tarrabus had claimed to worship, and said nothing. 

“But, no matter,” said the Warden. “You shall see the truth for yourself, and far sooner than you might like.” 

“Thank you for the boon,” said Ridmark. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“One more boon,” said the Warden, his smile widening. 

“Oh?” said Ridmark. Rhyannis’s shivering got worse.

“One,” said the Warden.

“One?” said Ridmark. “One what?”

“One half hour,” said the Warden, “until I send every urvaalg, ursaar, urshane, urvuul, and urdhracos in Urd Morlemoch to kill you both.”

“You said you would let us go if I won your little game,” said Ridmark.

“Indeed I did,” said the Warden, “and indeed I am. I am letting you both go. And then, after one half-hour, I am sending every one of my war beasts to hunt you down and kill you. Do you not see? It is a new game. One final test of your prowess, Ridmark Arban. I suggest you start running. Time is slipping away.”

He threw back his head and laughed his wild, mad laugh. 

“We should run,” said Ridmark, and they sprinted for the stairs, the Warden’s laughter ringing in his ears.

Chapter 12 - Fire and Fury

“Almost there,” said Ridmark. 

He helped Rhyannis up the narrow, slippery stone steps, the spray of the waterfall hissing past them. A moment later he led her to the grassy edge of the cliff, the creek rushing past them, Urd Morlemoch rising on its hill above them.

He did not know how much time had passed. They had gone on a mad run down the stairs of the tower, back into the catacombs, and through the narrow passages to the secret entrance. They had encountered none of the Warden’s servants. No doubt the Warden had held his creatures back, waiting until the half-hour had passed.

It gave him all the more time to enjoy his mad little game. 

“We cannot,” said Rhyannis, breathing hard, “we cannot possibly outrun so many urvaalgs.” Even through her exhaustion and pain, she still retained the alien beauty of the high elves. Yet she was utterly exhausted, and had no weapons. If it came to a fight, Ridmark would have to defend her. 

“No,” said Ridmark. “But if the lord archmage is waiting for us, we won’t have to fight anything.”

Assuming, of course, Ardrhythain’s magic could defeat so many creatures.

“This way,” said Ridmark, leading her over the creek. He ran at a light jog, all that Rhyannis could manage, though his instincts screamed for them to go faster. Though he was not sure if he could have gone faster. Heartwarden’s healing magic trickled through him, easing the pain in his chest, but every breath hurt badly. It was starting to make him lightheaded.

They ran past a hill, and Ridmark saw three mutated orcs lying upon the earth. He raised Heartwarden, but the orcs remained motionless. Then his brain caught up to his reflexes, and he remembered that he had killed the orcs this morning. 

It had been less than a day, but it felt far longer than that.

“Keep going,” said Ridmark. “It’s not much farther now.”

Rhyannis said nothing as she stumbled at his side, her golden hair hanging like a veil around her face. She did not look as if she could go much further. Ridmark would carry her if necessary, but he preferred to avoid that. 

He needed his arms free to fight. 

A standing stone rose from a nearby hill, similar to the menhirs Ridmark had seen atop Urd Morlemoch. He had seen the stone this morning, and led Rhyannis around the slope. A little farther, he thought, a little farther, and they would be out of the Warden’s reach…

The ground trembled beneath Ridmark’s boots.

He looked back at Urd Morlemoch, the fate of Lot’s wife flashing through his mind, and saw the central tower blazing with ghostly blue-green fire. A dark mass poured from the gates of Urd Morlemoch, illuminated in the eerie glow.

Creatures.

Thousands upon thousands of creatures.

A vast tide of urvaalgs and ursaars raced from the gates, vanishing as they blended with the dead gray hills. The huge, armored forms of urvuuls, a ghastly cross between insect and squid, lumbered through the press, moving with terrifying speed despite their bulk. Dark shapes soared overhead, wings spread wide. A score of urdhracos, beginning their hunt.

The Warden had indeed been playing a game with Ridmark. He could have killed both Ridmark and Rhyannis at any moment he chose. Now the games were over.

Or this was the final game, and there was only one way to win.

“Run!” said Ridmark. “This is our last chance! Run!”

Rhyannis started running, her feet bloody from the rough ground, and Ridmark sprinted at her side. His chest burned with every breath he took, and Rhyannis stumbled and staggered. Ridmark spotted the hill with the standing stone where he had stood with Ardrhythain, though there was no sign of the archmage. 

“Climb that hill!” said Ridmark. “Quickly!” 

They scrambled up the slope, and Ridmark grabbed Rhyannis’s wrist to keep her from stumbling. A moment later they reached the top of the hill. Rhyannis took one more step and fell, landing hard upon her stomach, a tremor going through her limbs.

“I can’t…” she groaned. “I can’t…I can’t go any…”

Ridmark turned towards Urd Morlemoch. The horde of rippling shapes rushed towards him, the dark figure of an urdhracos circling overhead. Part of his mind pointed out that if he left Rhyannis and ran, he could get away. He had done his part. He had taken her out of Urd Morlemoch. 

Instead he took Heartwarden in both hands and faced the horde. The ground vibrated from the paws and talons of a thousand charging creatures. The air around him rippled, and Ridmark spotted a pack of three urvaalgs charging at him. 

Rather than wait for their attack, Ridmark moved, Heartwarden giving him a burst of speed. The glowing sword blurred and ripped out an urvaalg’s throat. The creature toppled to the grass with a gurgling snarl, its black blood spilling into the dry earth. Ridmark killed a second, and then a third, the dead urvaalgs rolling away down the sides of the hill.

He turned, seeking more foes, and saw a dozen ursaars lumbering towards him. The creatures looked like the twisted spawn of an ape and a bear, their hunched bodies corded with heavy muscle, their fur standing in jagged spikes. Their fangs and claws were like serrated daggers, and each one had the strength of ten men.

Ridmark realized that he was about to die. 

Perhaps he could gain time for Rhyannis to escape, but that seemed unlikely. The high elven woman did not have the strength to stand, let alone run. Well, Ridmark would make a good accounting of himself before the end, would ring the hill with the carcasses of urvaalgs and ursaars. 

He only wished he could have seen Aelia one last time. 

Then a dark shape slammed into him.

Ridmark hit the ground, a fresh wave of agony rolling through his chest. An urdhracos stood over him, her beautiful, inhuman face alight with glee, her steel claws drawn back to rip him open. Ridmark tried to raise his sword to block, but he knew that it was too late.

White light filled his vision, followed an instant later by a thunderclap. 

When the light cleared the urdhracos’s head and most of her chest had vanished, smoke rising from the charred crater of her neck. The body swayed and fell backward, the wings collapsing in a limp heap. Ridmark scrambled to his feet as the tide of ursaars and urvaalgs surged up the hill.

A figure in a red coat stepped to his side, a black staff shining with white fire in his hand.

“Stand behind me,” said Ardrhythain.

Ridmark obeyed, and Ardrhythain lifted his staff over his head.

And Ridmark saw the wrath of an archmage of the high elves.

White fire erupted from the earth in towering pillars, slashing through the charging packs of urvaalgs. The flames ripped through them, leaving only ashes and charred bones behind. Lightning crackled through the air, each blast tearing an urdhracos from the sky. They screamed as they fell into the burning chaos below, flames devouring their wings. Ardrhythain swept his staff over his head, and the ground shook and heaved, throwing the creatures from their feet and paws. A few managed to climb the slope of the hill, howling with madness and terror, and Ridmark tensed, preparing to defend the archmage.

But there was no need. Ardrhythain leveled his free hand, and short, precise bursts of white fire jumped from his palm, each blast reducing an urvaalg to cinders. The air screamed with the power of the spells, and for a moment Ridmark thought they would all die, that the magic the archmage had unleashed would kill them all.

And then it was over.

The fire faded away, and the surviving creatures fled for Urd Morlemoch. Ridmark watched as they vanished through the gates, the ruins falling silent once again.

Ardrhythain lowered his staff with a sigh, the light fading away.

“Thank you,” said Ridmark.

“No, thank you, Sir Ridmark,” said Ardrhythain. “You exposed yourself to far more danger than I. Once you and Rhyannis had cleared the boundaries of the Warden’s defensive spells, I was free to act.” 

Ridmark opened his mouth, closed it. With that kind of power, why did Ardrhythain fear the Warden? Yet the archmage had said that the Warden was the stronger wizard. And if Ardrhythain had entered Urd Morlemoch, the Warden’s defensive spells would have killed him.

Apparently the Warden only played games with those who could not possibly threaten him.

“She’s hurt,” said Ridmark at last.

“Yes, of course,” said Ardrhythain, taking one final glance at Urd Morlemoch. He crossed to Rhyannis, knelt beside her, and laid his hand upon her sweating forehead. White light pulsed from his fingers, and her wounds vanished, her eyes opening. When she stood, she looked like the image of high elven beauty, serene and otherworldly.

The fact that she wore only a ragged shift did somewhat ruin the effect, though.

Ardrhythain healed Ridmark next, his broken ribs knitting back together, the cuts and scrapes from the fighting fading away. The sharp, tearing pain from his breathing vanished, and Ridmark felt hale once more. 

“You have my gratitude, Sir Ridmark Arban of the Order of the Soulblade,” said Ardrhythain. “You have fulfilled the terms of the Pact between our two kindreds most admirably. I wish to reward your valor. Ask me for a boon, and if it is within my power I shall grant it.”

“Nothing,” said Ridmark. “I wish for no reward. I did my duty, and that was all.”

“Very well,” said Ardrhythain. “Nevertheless, if you ask a boon of me when our paths cross again, I shall be glad to grant it.”

“When our paths cross again?” said Ridmark. “You seem certain of it.”

“I am,” said Ardrhythain. “In all the possible shadows of your future that I see…it is most likely that we shall meet again.”

Ridmark hesitated. “The future…the Warden told me things. Showed me things…”

“You should judge his words with a great deal of doubt,” said Ardrhythain. “The Warden is an accomplished liar. Anything he told you was likely part of his game.”

“The Frostborn,” said Ridmark. “He said the Frostborn are returning. Was that part true?”

Ardrhythain was silent for a long moment.

“I do not know,” he said at last. “Understand this, Sir Ridmark. The dark elves and the high elves struggled against each other for millennia beyond count. The dark elves summoned kindreds from other worlds to fight, orcs and dwarves and manetaur and others. All the kindreds upon this world arrived in that fashion, kidnapped as slaves for the dark elves. Save for your kindred…and the Frostborn. How you arrived here, I do not know. And how the Frostborn arrived, or even what they are, I do not know.”

Ridmark nodded. 

“I must return to Cathair Solas,” said Ardrhythain. “I would transport you to Castra Marcaine, but I fear the effects would be deleterious.”

“Fear not,” said Ridmark. “The Warden transported me a short distance within Urd Morlemoch. I have no desire to repeat the experience.” 

“Farewell, Swordbearer,” said Rhyannis. “Thank you for your aid. Without it, I would have stayed in that terrible place for the rest of my days. You have my gratitude for all of your days…and the days of your children, and your children, and their children, for as long as I shall live.”

“Thank you, my lady,” said Ridmark.

“Farewell, Ridmark Arban,” said Ardrhythain, “until we meet again.” 

He rapped his staff against the ground, and both he and Rhyannis vanished in a flash of light.

Ridmark let out a long breath, and then turned and started for home.