The Dark Warden (Book 6) (14 page)

“It was a bad day,” said Jager. 

“He stole a soulcatcher from the Matriarch of the Red Family,” said Mara.

“Indeed?” said Ardrhythain. “A bold feat, indeed.”

“I know,” said Jager. “I was there.”

“Your wife…” Ardrhythain’s voice trailed off as he gazed at Mara, and for the first time he looked surprised. “You are half dark-elven.”

Arandar made a strangled noise and looked at her.

“Yes,” said Mara. “My mother was a freeholder, taken by the orcs in service of the Traveler of Nightmane Forest. My father was the Traveler himself.”

“By rights your dark elven blood should have overwhelmed you long ago,” said Ardrhythain, his unblinking golden eyes fixed upon her. “Yet…the transformation has come, has it not? But you are not an urdhracos. You are still your own…”

Mara shrugged. “It came a few weeks ago at the Iron Tower. I’m still not entirely sure what happened to me.” She gestured, disappeared in a column of blue fire, and reappeared a few yards away. “I can do this now, and I have the Sight.”

“You have dark elven blood and the Sight, and yet you look upon me without fear?” said Ardrhythain.

“I can see you,” said Mara. “All that power. You’re the strongest wizard I’ve ever seen, but that power is…clean, without taint. But you’ve seen so many things, I think. You’ve lost a great deal.”

“I fear so,” said Ardrhythain. “Parents. Brothers. Sisters. Children. Grandchildren. Comrades and friends and colleagues and servants and entire nations. Once the high elves were as numerous as the humans and the orcs. Now only a few of us remain within Cathair Solas.”

“My lord,” said Rhyannis, and she sounded shaken. “Is she…”

“It is,” said Ardrhythain. “You are something I have never seen before, Mara of Coldinium, and that has not happened for a very long time. A dark elven half-blood who transformed and yet retains control of her mind and will. You can hear the Warden’s aura, I assume?”

“Quite loudly,” said Mara. “It is rather grandiloquent.” 

“Yet you feel no compulsion to obey?” said Ardrhythain. 

“No,” said Mara. “It is difficult to put into words. There is a fire inside of me, one with its own song. It is louder than the Warden’s, and that gives me control of myself.” 

“A dark elven half-breed,” said Arandar, shaking his head. “I never would have guessed it.”

“Your powers of observation astonish me,” said Morigna, still keeping a wary eye on the archmage. 

“But you are so…polite,” said Arandar. He shrugged. “If the founder of the Two Orders says that you are not a threat, who am I to gainsay him?”

“Well, that,” said Jager, “and if you hurt her I shall pour poison into your mouth while you sleep.”

To Ridmark’s surprise, Arandar offered a bow to Jager. “A man should be no less zealous in the defense of his wife.”

“This is Sir Arandar of Tarlion,” said Ridmark before the conversation could escalate into another argument, “a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade.” 

“Greetings, Sir Arandar,” said Ardrhythain. “You bear Heartwarden, the blade once carried by Ridmark himself.”

“I do,” said Arandar.

The archmage looked at Ridmark. “That does not trouble you?”

It gave him a damned fierce headache. “What I think does not matter. I lost the sword by rights.”

“Why have you come to Urd Morlemoch, Sir Arandar of Tarlion?” said Ardrhythain. “Surely the High Kingdom has greater need of you elsewhere.”

“Perhaps,” said Arandar, “but my duty compels me to be here. A quest of honor has driven me to Urd Morlemoch, and I will save my son, whatever the cost to myself.”

Ardrhythain inclined his head. “A worthy cause. I had hoped that men like you would take up the soulblades once they were forged.”

“I only hope that I do not fail in my duty,” said Arandar.

Ardrhythain’s eyes shifted to Morigna, who met his golden gaze without flinching. 

“And this,” said Ridmark, “is Morigna, once of Moraime.”

“Tell me," said Morigna before Ardrhythain could speak, “if you know who Calliande is, why do you not tell her? You would save us much trouble and toil.”

“Calliande herself asked me not to do so,” said Ardrhythain. “To speak nothing of her past before she could recall it.” 

“That is a pitiful excuse,” said Morigna. 

“Morigna,” said Calliande, her voice sharp.

“Perhaps,” said Ardrhythain, “but it is necessary. Our law forbids us from seeking power over the other kindreds. Such a course walks the path of corruption, and leads in the end to the fate of the dark elves.”

“A convenient excuse,” said Morigna, “to keep you from dirtying your hands. Let the humans wield the soulblades and fight the wars while you remain safe behind the walls of Cathair Solas.”

“The temptation to abuse power is great among the humans,” said Ardrhythain, “but it is greater among us. To use our power in the way you describe would inevitably give us power over you, and we dare not trust ourselves with power.” 

“How very convenient,” said Morigna. 

“I hear the mark of dark magic upon you,” said Ardrhythain. 

“One supposes you shall now cloak that observation in some oracular nonsense?” said Morigna. 

“Nothing of the sort,” said Ardrhythain. “I hear it in your arguments. When the urdmordar besieged Tarlion and I offered the soulblades and the magic of the Well to the High King, some of his nobles said the same thing. That we ought to use our magic to remake the world, to build it stronger and better than God intended. Even after the High King accepted the Pact of the Two Orders, such arguments persisted…and one day became the foundations of the Eternalists and the Enlightened of Incariel.” 

“Do you think me enamored of dark magic?” said Morigna. “One of the last of the Eternalists murdered my mother and father, and prepared me to serve as the vessel for his corrupted spirit. So I hate dark magic more than someone like you ever could. If I had the kind of power you wield, I would not sit idly while mouthing pious platitudes about the dangers of action. No one would ever harm me and those I love ever again.” 

“What do you think dark magic is?” said Ardrhythain. “The Eternalists had a vision for what they thought was a better world. So do the Enlightened of Incariel. So did the dark elves. You think power is freedom? No. It is much heavier than that. Power is a burden, a grave responsibility, and the more power you wield the graver the responsibility. A freeholder’s sins might destroy his family. A Dux’s mistakes could destroy a nation. I urge you to think upon this. Your quest for freedom could lead you far upon the path to destruction.” 

“Thank you for the counsel,” said Morigna, her voice cold and hard as ice, “but I shall rely upon my own judgment.” 

“So be it,” said Ardrhythain. “I have said what I must say to you. Whether you listen is in your hands.” He turned back to Ridmark and Calliande. “My time grows short, and you will have questions for me.” 

“Why does your time grow short?” said Ridmark.

“Shadowbearer seeks me,” said Ardrhythain, “and if he does not find me, he will come for you instead.”

“Shadowbearer?” said Calliande.

“Have you not wondered,” said Rhyannis, “why the bearer of shadow has not found you? Why he has not slain you and taken the empty soulstone?” 

“Often,” said Ridmark. “I feared that he would find us ever since we rescued Calliande from the altar upon Black Mountain.” 

“He has not found you,” said Ardrhythain, “because I have been pursuing him ever since he stole the empty soulstone from the caverns beneath Cathair Solas four months ago. We have been locked in magical battle ever since.”

“You hardly look,” said Morigna, “as if you are locked in magical battle at the moment.” 

“He is too deep into the threshold for us to reach each other,” said Ardrhythain. “In a few hours he will emerge, and I shall have to be ready to pursue him again.” 

“The threshold?” said Calliande. “I’ve…I’ve heard that term before, I’m sure of it.”

“The knowledge will come to you,” said Ardrhythain, “now that you have heard it.”

“It’s the shadow,” whispered Calliande. “Or the reflection.” She gestured, trying to frame her thoughts. “This world, it throws a…a shadow, a reflection, into the spirit realm. Powerful wizards can access this place. It is a dangerous realm, but magic is far more powerful within the threshold.”

“Our duel,” said Ardrhythain, “has taken us there frequently. Yesterday I pressed him hard, and he retreated deeper into the threshold. It will take him some time to extract himself and return to the waking world, which is why I am able to speak with you now.” 

Jager snapped his fingers. “That’s why he didn’t blow us all to ashes when we sacked the Iron Tower, isn’t it?”

“When Shadowbearer convinced Qazarl to attack Dun Licinia,” said Kharlacht, “his comings and goings were erratic. This account explains much. I told Qazarl that Shadowbearer was simply using us and not to be trusted.”

“It is regrettable that he did not heed you,” said Ardrhythain. “Once the bearer of shadow returns from the threshold, I will be there to meet him. By then you will beyond his reach. You will have entered the circumference of the wards around Urd Morlemoch, where Shadowbearer cannot harm you and I cannot aid you.”

“You called Shadowbearer by name when you faced him,” said Calliande. “Tymandain. Is that truly his name?”

“It is,” said Ardrhythain. “The bearer of shadow was once an archmage of the high elven kindred, like me. He listened to the lies of Incariel, and became the bearer of shadow long ago.”

“So much for not ruling over the affairs of other kindred,” said Morigna.

“Then you see,” said Ardrhythain, “why our law forbids it? Tymandain sought power to protect that which he loved. Look at what he has wrought. Look at what he has become.”

Morigna said nothing. 

“Thank you,” said Ridmark. “You shielded us from a grave danger, and we knew it not.”

Ardrhythain nodded. “Calliande was in danger since before you were born, Ridmark Arban. Shadowbearer would have slain her in the vault below the Tower of Vigilance, but the wards around it were too powerful.” 

“So he waited until I awoke, and sent Qazarl and the Mhalekites to kill me,” said Calliande. 

“This is so,” said Ardrhythain. “You, Ridmark Arban…you have been in danger ever since you agreed to help me during the Festival of the Resurrection nine years past. The shadows of your future pointed in this direction. By choosing to aid Calliande, the danger has grown sharper. Soon it approaches a crisis point. Ask me what you will, and if I can aid you without violating our law, I shall.” 

Ridmark considered this. There were limits to what Ardrhythain would do. He would not follow them into Urd Morlemoch, and he would not violate Calliande’s ban on discussing her memory. But the archmage likely knew other useful things.

“I assume you will not be able to tell me how the Frostborn are returning,” said Ridmark. “Probably because of the prohibition against speaking about Calliande’s past. But I will ask you this…does the Warden know?”

“He does,” said Ardrhythain. “He knows everything that you want to know. The Warden is the mightiest wizard the dark elven kindred ever produced. His knowledge is wide and deep, as is his malicious wisdom. He can answer your question.”

“And me,” said Calliande. “Does he know who I really am?” 

“The Warden will know,” said Ardrhythain. “He knows less about you than he does about the Frostborn, and he will not know as much as you might like. But he does know who you really are, and he knows where Dragonfall and your staff wait.” Calliande stepped forward at that. “If you can best him, he will tell you.” 

“How can we defeat him?” said Ridmark. 

“As you did before,” said Ardrhythain. “The Warden can obliterate you any time he chooses, once you step within his influence. He has been trapped within Urd Morlemoch for tens of thousands of years, and he is bored. He will play a game with you. A deep, subtle, deadly game. If you can best him as you did before, then you will have a chance of departing Urd Morlemoch alive with the knowledge that you require.” 

“I beat his game once before,” said Ridmark, “and he still tried to kill me. Only your intervention turned back his creatures.”

“I will return to the Torn Hills as soon as I am able,” said Ardrhythain, “if I can keep Shadowbearer at bay. Perhaps I will be able to assist you. I fear you cannot trust to my arrival, though. Shadowbearer is powerful, and it will take everything I have to keep him from killing you. But once you enter the shadow of Urd Morlemoch, you will be beyond Shadowbearer’s reach…and beyond my ability to aid you.”

“How heartening,” said Jager. 

“It is not, is it?” said Ardrhythain. “But I cannot rule your fates. I have not that right. I can only equip you to face them as best as I can.”

“And what,” said Morigna, “have you given us?”

“Knowledge,” said Ridmark. 

“You have the magic of the Magistri,” said Ardrhythain, “and the power of Heartwarden. I can do one other thing for you.” He gestured. “This ravine is outside of the Warden’s influence. Tonight I can ward it so that neither the Devout nor the Warden’s other creatures will disturb you. You may rest and recover your strength.”

“Calliande healed our wounds,” said Ridmark. 

“You have gone long without proper rest,” said Ardrhythain. “If you are to enter Urd Morlemoch, at least you can do so with your full strength. The spell can give you that much.” 

“We will be grateful,” said Ridmark, “for any aid.”

“May God go with you, Ridmark Arban,” said Ardrhythain. “The shadows of your future have led you here, but the outcome of that future is still in your hands.” He looked them over. “It is in all of your hands.”

Ridmark was not sure, but he thought Ardrhythain’s gaze lingered over Morigna.

Chapter 9 - Something New

Morigna sat upon a low boulder and gazed into the campfire, scowling.

Night had fallen over the Torn Hills, though the thick clouds overhead blocked out the moons and the stars. A bright blue glow shone to the northwest, covering everything in an eerie azure light. Likely it was the glow of Urd Morlemoch itself. Ridmark had said that three ribbons of flame danced and writhed around the central tower of Urd Morlemoch, lashing at the lightless vault of the sky.