Frostborn: The False King (38 page)

Yet fighting still raged here and there throughout the garden as the remaining urvaalgs and shadow-worshipping manetaurs struggled on. 

“Come on,” said Ridmark as Third and Gavin rejoined him. “The battle isn’t over yet.” 

Chapter 22: Vengeance

The fighting dragged on for the rest of the day and for much the night.

Kurdulkar’s followers fought to the bloody end, refusing all offers of surrender. Likely they knew they would receive little mercy from the enraged Red King. One by one Kurdulkar’s followers were overwhelmed and slain. 

The urvaalgs took more work. 

The surviving creatures broke out of the Red King’s palace and swarmed through the city, killing at random. With the aid of the Sight and the arbiters’ magic, Calliande was able to track down the urvaalgs and destroy them, but the urvaalgs exacted a hideous toll in blood. Nearly seven hundred manetaurs and two thousand tygrai had been killed during Kurdulkar’s failed uprising, and many of the slain had been females and children. Kurdulkar and his followers had not scrupled to cut them down, much to the horror of the manetaurs. 

Kurdulkar had smashed every rule of war among the manetaurs, and long after the fighting, Calliande still heard the roars of grief rising from every quarter of Bastoth. 

As dawn approached, she returned to the market below the Inn of the River, weary beyond measure. Sir Ector and his surviving men escorted her. Right now Calliande wanted to lie down, close her eyes, and block out the world. Later, she knew, there would be work. Perhaps she could still convince Turcontar to march to the aid of the Anathgrimm. The Red King would want vengeance, but Kurdulkar and all his followers had been slain. Perhaps Turcontar would simply order her to depart from Bastoth and the Range and leave the manetaurs to their grief.

“Did we win?” said Gavin in a quiet voice. He walked next to Calliande, his face smudged with blood and soot. Antenora had burned down a house to clear it of the last pack of urvaalgs.

Calliande took a deep breath. Part of her rebuked her for coming to the Range. So many had died…but she could not blame herself for that, not this time. Kurdulkar had begun his plans long before she had ever awakened beneath the Tower of Vigilance. If she and Ridmark had not come to the Range, Kurdulkar would have been victorious, and would have seized the crown of the Red King for himself, bringing the manetaurs to the aid of the Frostborn and the Enlightened. No matter what happened now, the manetaurs would never aid Tarrabus or the Frostborn.

It could have been worse. It could have been much worse. 

Calliande just wished that the cost of victory had not been so high.

“We did,” she told Gavin. “Barely, but we did.” 

“I thought we would fail,” said Antenora. Her voice was a tired rasp, but it always was a tired rasp.

“You did?” said Calliande.

“I have seen it so many times before,” said Antenora. “A realm ripped apart in civil war, brother turned against brother. Rivers of blood shed in the name of madness and pride. I saw it at Edgehill, and centuries later at Bull Run.”

“Places upon Old Earth?” said Gavin.

“Aye,” said Antenora. “I forget the wars, but I remember the battles and the screams of the wounded. Often when such wars begin, they continue without end for generations. Such an evil was averted here, though at a great price.” 

Calliande nodded. “At least…at least the manetaurs will not fall under the sway of the shadow of Incariel. Whatever happens, we have done that much.”

Though at a terrible cost.

Yet the cost of doing nothing might have been far worse. That was, Calliande thought, the most dreadful thing about the Keeper’s responsibilities. Sometimes the Keeper faced no good choices, only a choice between degrees of evil. 

“We have,” said Gavin. 

“Where is Ridmark?” said Calliande.

“He went with the half-dark elf, the dwarven friar, the orcish warrior, the Magistrius, and Prince Curzonar,” said Antenora. “Some of the tygrai sworn to Kurdulkar claimed ignorance of their master’s folly, and wish to surrender and swear to other Princes.” She shrugged, slim shoulders rippling beneath her dark coat. “If the tygrai traditionally stay aloof of the rivalries between the manetaurs, perhaps they are telling the truth.” 

“Perhaps,” said Calliande. “I should aid them. If any of the tygrai try to call upon the shadow of Incariel, the Sight will give me a warning.”

“The Gray Knight can handle the matter alone, with the Magistrius’s aid,” said Antenora. “You require rest, Keeper. And you, Gavin Swordbearer. You have both fought hard this day and for the past several days. You will do no one any good if you both work yourselves to exhaustion.”

Calliande laughed a little. “As you command, then.” 

She returned to her room at the Inn of the River. Gavin sat down against the wall, announcing he would remain on guard, and promptly fell asleep. Calliande lay down, her eyes heavy, as Antenora took up watch by the door. 

For a moment the black-clad woman stared down at Gavin. 

Then, very, very slowly and very gently, she reached down, pushed a lock of hair from his forehead, and straightened up again. 

Calliande blinked in surprise, and then fell asleep.

She awoke to the sound of knocking at the door. Gavin surged to his feet in one smooth motion, his hand falling to Truthseeker’s hilt, while Antenora raised her staff. 

“Who is it?” said Antenora.

“Ridmark.”

Calliande nodded, getting to her feet, and Antenora opened the door. Ridmark stood in the corridor outside. He looked weary and ragged, his jaw shaded with black stubble, the lines in his face a little deeper than usual.

“Did you sleep at all?” said Calliande.

“No,” said Ridmark. “You had best come at once. The Red King has called the surviving Princes to his court, and you are summoned.” 

Calliande nodded, and took up her staff and followed Ridmark and the others from the Inn.

###

“We were fools,” growled the Red King.

Silence answered the Red King’s pronouncement.

“I was a fool,” said Turcontar.

Ridmark stood with Calliande and the others at the foot of the Red King’s dais. Curzonar and Tazemazar waited next to Ridmark, and the surviving Princes of the Range sat atop their daises. There were far fewer Princes than there had been yesterday. Ridmark guessed that at least half of the Princes had been slaughtered in the fighting, maybe more. That meant Turcontar had seen half of his children killed, along with his First Queen. He wondered if Turcontar had loved his sons, if he had loved Raszema. 

Ridmark didn’t know.

He only knew that Turcontar looked enraged beyond all measure. 

“I thought that the dissension between Curzonar and Kurdulkar was the normal conflict between Princes of the Range,” said Turcontar. “I thought his infatuation with the shadow of Incariel only the folly of a hot-headed young Hunter. I wished to prevent the dissension between you from boiling over, to keep our nation strong. I was wrong, and we have paid dearly for my folly. Arbiter Tazemazar, I should have heeded your counsel sooner.”

“Disasters have befallen the Hunters before, Red King,” said Tazemazar. “You could not have foreseen this outcome.”

“You were right, Curzonar,” said Turcontar. “I should have heeded your counsel, and not Kurdulkar’s. If you wish to challenge me to take my life and my throne, I will not oppose you.” 

The silence stretched on as Curzonar gazed at his father without blinking. 

“No,” said Curzonar at last. “No, father. If you had agreed with Kurdulkar and his mad teachings, I would challenge you here and now. But you were misled, both by Kurdulkar himself and by your regard for him and the memory of his mother. The Hunters and the tygrai face grave danger from the Frostborn and the worshippers of Incariel’s shadow, and your experience is needed.”

“It is even graver than that,” said Turcontar. “Kurdulkar hired dvargir mercenaries to use against his fellow Hunters. He murdered the females and the young of his own kind to seize my crown. For all this, he earned death a thousand times over! An even greater shame has befallen us! For his crimes, Kurdulkar should have been slain at our hands…yet it was not one of our own who slew him. Ridmark Arban killed him, not one of the Hunters.” 

“If I could have taken him prisoner, I would have,” said Ridmark, raising his voice. “But he was too dangerous to leave alive.”

“Do not misunderstand, lord magister,” said Turcontar. “We do not blame you for your actions. Kurdulkar would have slain you. Indeed, he set a trap for the purpose of your death! You did well to kill him in single combat…”

“I did not kill him in single combat,” said Ridmark. “I had the aid of Sir Gavin and Third of Nightmane Forest.”

“Your humility does you credit,” said Tazemazar, “and it is worthy of a Hunter. For the true Hunter does not drape himself in false humility, nor does he cloak himself in bombast. He instead states things precisely as they are.”

“You have done the Hunters and the tygrai a great service by slaying Kurdulkar,” said the Red King. “Yet he should have died by my hand for his crimes. Or he should have died by Curzonar’s hand.” The Red King shook his head. “Had I permitted Curzonar to complete his challenge against Kurdulkar a year and a half past, rather than sending him on a trial to the Vale of Stone Death, perhaps much evil would have been averted.”

“Perhaps not, Red King,” said Calliande. She looked tired and haggard, but her eyes did not waver as she gazed at Turcontar. “Without Curzonar’s aid, we would have perished in the Vale of Stone Death. And if we had perished, perhaps you would not have been able to root out this evil from the Range. Many died yesterday, but many more would have died if the shadow of Incariel had been allowed to fester unchecked.” 

“Perhaps you are right,” said Turcontar. “No one can see the future, not even the arbiters.” The terrible rage in his expression tightened. “But no longer shall these evils be allowed to fester unchecked against the Hunters. Princes of the Range!” His voice rose to a roar. “You have seen the evils done here yesterday. The servants of the shadow of Incariel proved themselves to be our enemy. And as we have seen, the servants of the shadow are themselves the servants of the Frostborn, whether knowingly or not. It is as the Keeper and the lord magister warned us. The return of the Frostborn is the greatest threat the Hunters and the tygrai have faced since our war against the dark elves.” 

He drew himself up and struck the end of his ornate spear against the dais three times, the echoes from the impact ringing through the garden.

“We have no choice, Princes of the Range,” said Turcontar. “As Red King, I now call for a Great Hunt against the Frostborn and the servants of Incariel.” 

A rumble rose up from the Princes as Turcontar glared at them.

“A Great Hunt?” murmured Gavin. “He mentioned it before…”

“The Red King can call a Great Hunt in times of dire crisis when the manetaurs are threatened with extinction,” said Caius. “During a Great Hunt, the manetaurs are to put aside all feuds and challenges and march to war under the Red King. They wage war against their foe until the enemy is utterly exterminated…or they are destroyed. It is a war to annihilation.” 

Ridmark watched the Red King. This was what they had come here to do, to ask the manetaurs to join the war against the Frostborn. He wondered if Calliande had truly hoped to have the Red King declare a Great Hunt, or if she had expected to receive only a few thousand manetaurs and tygrai foot soldiers. The entire manetaur nation would make a mighty ally, and with the combined strength of the manetaurs, the Anathgrimm, and a reunified Andomhaim, they might have enough force to drive the Frostborn back to their world gate. 

If, of course, Arandar managed to defeat Tarrabus.

And if, of course, the arbiters ratified the declaration of the Great Hunt. The Red King could call for one, but only the arbiters could ratify the declaration. 

“Arbiters!” thundered Turcontar. “What say you?”

“We have already discussed the matter amongst ourselves, Red King,” said Tazemazar. “Once the Keeper arrived and petitioned for aid, we decided that if you declared a Great Hunt against the Frostborn and the followers of the shadow, we would ratify your decision at once.” 

Turcontar snorted. “Then this has been a long time in the planning?”

“With respect, Red King,” said Tazemazar. “We warned you against the Frostborn until we were hoarse. Prince Curzonar warned you. First Queen Raszema warned you.”

Turcontar’s glare did not waver, but at last, he nodded. “Then let us correct our errors.” 

“The arbiters ratify the Great Hunt, Red King Turcontar,” said Tazemazar. 

“So be it,” said Turcontar. He struck his spear against the dais once more. “Then I, Turcontar, Red King of the Range, declare a Great Hunt against the Frostborn and their shadow-worshipping dogs. Let the Hunters lay aside their rivalries and join in fellowship! Let the tygrai sharpen their spears and raise their shields! Let the Hunters and the tygrai march from Bastoth in harmony, and show our enemies the true meaning of terror. Let us hunt!”

He threw back his head and roared, and every single manetaur in the garden followed suit. The sound was colossal, and an instant later the roars rose from the rest of Bastoth as the other manetaurs in the city answered in kind.

It sounded as if the sky had torn itself in half.

The manetaurs were going to war.

Chapter 23: Orders of Battle

“I do not presume to command,” said Calliande, “but I suggest you march for Castra Carhaine in Caerdracon. From there you will be able to see how best to proceed. The Frostborn are fortified in the Northerland, and you might be able to assail them there. Or you could join forces with the Anathgrimm, or perhaps Arandar Pendragon, if he has overcome the false king Tarrabus Carhaine. But until I know more of what has happened since our departure from Nightmane Forest, I cannot advise you further.”

She stood with the Red King, Curzonar, Tazemazar, and the chief Princes and arbiters outside the red walls of Bastoth, watching the host of the Range assemble itself for war. Troops of manetaur warriors poured from the city’s gates, while squads of tygrai warriors issued forth, armored in steel and carrying spears and swords and bows. Bands of manetaur messengers hastened in all directions, calling the tygrai who worked the outlying farms and the manetaur warriors from their estates across the Range. Wagons rumbled from the gates of Bastoth, carrying supplies as the city’s granaries were emptied for battle.