itself, I suppose. Aranaeus doesn’t actually have a lord. My father says our people left the realm long ago to be free. Though I don’t know what that really means.” He blinked. “Are you really a dwarf? I’ve never seen one before.”
Caius laughed. “All my life, and I fear I’ve lived quite a long time. Long enough that that I remember when my kindred marched alongside the High King to fight the Frostborn, though I was too young to fight back then. But we do not call ourselves the dwarves, but the khaldari. Your kindred gave us that name when…”
“Brother Caius,” said Ridmark, “you can instruct the boy in history when we have less urgent matters to discuss.”
Caius smile, his beard rustling against his chest. “History is the urgent concern of every man.”
Ridmark sighed. “True. But we have more urgent concerns. For one, why are you here, and how did you find me?”
“As for how we found you,” said Caius, “that is simple enough. The dagger you gave Calliande.”
Ridmark had seen it at her belt. “What about it?”
“You gave it to her as a gift, and she used it to kill Alamur,” said Caius. “Apparently, that set up some sort of magical resonance between you and the dagger. She used it to follow you.”
“Oh,” said Ridmark. He had never heard of such a thing, but obviously it worked.
“And as for why we followed you, do you even need to ask?” said Caius.
“Yes, I do,” said Ridmark. “It is better that I go alone to find the truth.”
“Calliande said you promised to aid her,” said Caius.
Ridmark’s fingers tightened against his staff. “I did. And I shall. And I can do it best by discovering the truth about the Frostborn. She is tied to them somehow, I am sure of it, and if I find the truth about the Frostborn, I will discover the truth about her past.”
“Pardon, sir,” said Gavin, “but the Frostborn? The Frostborn are extinct. The High King destroyed them, Father Martel said so.”
Ridmark looked at the boy. “You saw the omen about three weeks ago? The blue fire?” Gavin nodded. “That was a sign that the Frostborn shall return. I first learned of it in Urd Morlemoch, a dark elven ruin ruled by an undead wizard called the Warden. I am traveling to Urd Morlemoch to force the Warden to tell me more. If the Frostborn are returning, the realm must be warned.”
Gavin gaped at him, eyes wide.
“You’re going to fight the Warden?” said Gavin. “Have you heard the stories about him?”
“Some of them,” said Ridmark. Few in Andomhaim had heard of the Warden or Urd Morlemoch, but tales about Urd Morlemoch, stories whispered in dread and fear, were common in the Northerland and the Wilderland.
“They say he can read minds,” said Gavin, “and that he plays cruel games with his enemies, imprisoning them in dungeons constructed of their own worst sins. Or that the powers of hell come at his command, and drag his foes to the abyss.”
“I’ve met him,” said Ridmark, “and he’s actually much worse.”
Gavin’s eyes got even wider.
“If I go there,” said Ridmark, “I’ll almost certainly be killed. There’s no reason for anyone else to come with me. None.”
Caius lifted his graying eyebrows. “You brought Kharlacht with you.”
“I fear I had nowhere else to go,” said Kharlacht. “For an orc of Vhaluusk, blood ties are paramount above all else. Yet all my kin are dead. Qazarl was the last, and he betrayed me and was slain outside the walls of Dun Licinia. I can lie down and die, I can wander the earth without purpose, or I can follow Ridmark to Urd Morlemoch and try to accomplish something of worth.”
“Your chances of success,” said Caius, “are much higher with companions.”
Ridmark sighed. “You are mad fools, both of you.”
Caius grinned. “Perhaps. But Calliande? No, she is not mad. She is brave and strong, and she feels she owes you a debt.”
“She owes me nothing,” said Ridmark.
“The
Caius laughed. “All my life, and I fear I’ve lived quite a long time. Long enough that that I remember when my kindred marched alongside the High King to fight the Frostborn, though I was too young to fight back then. But we do not call ourselves the dwarves, but the khaldari. Your kindred gave us that name when…”
“Brother Caius,” said Ridmark, “you can instruct the boy in history when we have less urgent matters to discuss.”
Caius smile, his beard rustling against his chest. “History is the urgent concern of every man.”
Ridmark sighed. “True. But we have more urgent concerns. For one, why are you here, and how did you find me?”
“As for how we found you,” said Caius, “that is simple enough. The dagger you gave Calliande.”
Ridmark had seen it at her belt. “What about it?”
“You gave it to her as a gift, and she used it to kill Alamur,” said Caius. “Apparently, that set up some sort of magical resonance between you and the dagger. She used it to follow you.”
“Oh,” said Ridmark. He had never heard of such a thing, but obviously it worked.
“And as for why we followed you, do you even need to ask?” said Caius.
“Yes, I do,” said Ridmark. “It is better that I go alone to find the truth.”
“Calliande said you promised to aid her,” said Caius.
Ridmark’s fingers tightened against his staff. “I did. And I shall. And I can do it best by discovering the truth about the Frostborn. She is tied to them somehow, I am sure of it, and if I find the truth about the Frostborn, I will discover the truth about her past.”
“Pardon, sir,” said Gavin, “but the Frostborn? The Frostborn are extinct. The High King destroyed them, Father Martel said so.”
Ridmark looked at the boy. “You saw the omen about three weeks ago? The blue fire?” Gavin nodded. “That was a sign that the Frostborn shall return. I first learned of it in Urd Morlemoch, a dark elven ruin ruled by an undead wizard called the Warden. I am traveling to Urd Morlemoch to force the Warden to tell me more. If the Frostborn are returning, the realm must be warned.”
Gavin gaped at him, eyes wide.
“You’re going to fight the Warden?” said Gavin. “Have you heard the stories about him?”
“Some of them,” said Ridmark. Few in Andomhaim had heard of the Warden or Urd Morlemoch, but tales about Urd Morlemoch, stories whispered in dread and fear, were common in the Northerland and the Wilderland.
“They say he can read minds,” said Gavin, “and that he plays cruel games with his enemies, imprisoning them in dungeons constructed of their own worst sins. Or that the powers of hell come at his command, and drag his foes to the abyss.”
“I’ve met him,” said Ridmark, “and he’s actually much worse.”
Gavin’s eyes got even wider.
“If I go there,” said Ridmark, “I’ll almost certainly be killed. There’s no reason for anyone else to come with me. None.”
Caius lifted his graying eyebrows. “You brought Kharlacht with you.”
“I fear I had nowhere else to go,” said Kharlacht. “For an orc of Vhaluusk, blood ties are paramount above all else. Yet all my kin are dead. Qazarl was the last, and he betrayed me and was slain outside the walls of Dun Licinia. I can lie down and die, I can wander the earth without purpose, or I can follow Ridmark to Urd Morlemoch and try to accomplish something of worth.”
“Your chances of success,” said Caius, “are much higher with companions.”
Ridmark sighed. “You are mad fools, both of you.”
Caius grinned. “Perhaps. But Calliande? No, she is not mad. She is brave and strong, and she feels she owes you a debt.”
“She owes me nothing,” said Ridmark.
“The
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