Fire and Frost (Seven Realms Book 1) Page 9

  As he passed, one of them whispered, “For what it’s worth, my lord, we believe the baron to be wrong in this.”

  Outside he found Kahji. The War Leader was swathed in bandages from just under his arms to just over his waist. Alaric had not had much chance to examine the wounds before the chiurgeon had reached them, but the red showing through the bandages spoke to how deep the wounds had been. Slowly, the great Igni stood. His eyes were knowing and held a combination of compassion and resignation.

  “Your father did not agree.” It was a statement, as though he had expected no other result.

  “He ‘can take no chances.’ Yet by not seeking out whatever object they desire, he takes the greatest chance possible.” Alaric sighed and shook his head in resignation. Once his father had spoken, the issue was settled, and he would simply have to make the best of it. Kahji fell into step beside him as he moved through the makeshift hospital which had been created in the castle’s courtyard. Just as he had while on the march, he naturally fell into the role of leader.

  In truth, he could almost understand where Martin and Sir Gyire came by their confidence. Certainly the outer wall was in need of repair. It appeared a stiff breeze might knock it down at this point. The injuries to the men, however, had been very minor, as these things go. No more than a score dead, and many of those appeared to be from falling from the wall when it shook. Most of the injuries were mere flesh wounds, some of them so minor they would not prevent the men who bore them from fighting the next day, if necessary.

  Considering the size of the army which had come against them, they had come away remarkably unscathed. Nevertheless, both Kahji and Alaric believed the worst was yet to come. If this had been a human or an Igni army, he would have called the attack a probe of the castle’s defenses. It would have been a massive probe; there was no doubt that a full army had come against them, but there were enough of the Frost Fiends that, had they so desired, they could at least have overwhelmed the outer wall.

  “So why didn’t they?”

  “Who, your brother and the castellan?”

  Alaric had not realized he had spoken aloud, “No, the Frost Fiends. You saw their army. There was no need for the Silverback to approach when he did. His siege engines were out of the range of ours. He could simply have sat back and reduced our outer wall, and there would have been little we could have done to stop him. So why didn’t he? Why press the attack in that manner? Why attack in a manner which left him so vulnerable?”

  “Until you asked the question, I was willing to put it down to their chaotic nature. However, even in their chaos they have never been stupid. One of the reasons no Igni had been able to wound a Silverback in so long was that they are always in the back of the fight. Long before we could reach them, enough of their forces have always been destroyed that they retreat rather than stand and fight. I confess to you, I do not know. They are not acting like I have ever known them to act.” Kahji’s voice was pensive.

  “Well that’s encouraging.”

  “I suppose I could lie to you. Would you prefer that?”

  Alaric did not even dignify that with a response. As he surveyed the courtyard, he tried to think like an invader. This was an exercise he had picked up from eavesdropping on his brother’s private sessions.

  Conventional wisdom held that there were two primary reasons to assault a castle. One was to take the people inside prisoner, or kill them, and force a settlement. The other was to take and hold the castle for its strategic value. Neither of those seemed like the goal here, however. If the Frost Fiends had wanted to storm the castle and kill or capture those inside, they would simply have reduced the outer walls. There would have been no benefit in doing otherwise. Had they wanted to take the castle and hold it, they would not first have started by attempting to reduce the walls; they would have aimed for the inside of the castle. A single one of those ice boulders landing inside the wall and exploding would have caused more casualties than the entire battle had. It simply didn’t make sense.

  “Kahji. When your people raid, they raze a town to the ground because they don’t want to leave it behind them, correct? You never plan on taking the land and keeping it, but you can’t afford to let us have a stronghold behind your lines.”

  “I’m not giving anything away by saying ‘yes’ to that.”

  “If your people wanted to attack, for instance, the Duke’s castle, you’d have to deal with my father’s castle the same way, yes?”

  “Correct.”

  “So what if my father’s castle just stands between the Frost Fiends and their goal? You said they shouldn’t be able to get into the border lands, let alone into Mediatus itself, yet they have been. But what if they’re already crossing over as deep into the realm as they can? That would explain massing an army instead of simply going to where they wanted to go.”

  “But what lies beyond your father’s castle from the Border?”

  “I don’t know. But I think we should find out.”

  “How?”

  “Come with me. I have an idea.”

  With that, Alaric turned once more and headed back toward the buildings that made up the center of the castle compound. Rather than heading to the keep and the great hall, he directed his steps toward the chapel.

  CHAPTER 13

  The chapel was the second most protected building in the castle. Nestled in the shadow of the keep itself, it sat like a little chick under the wing of a mother hen. Where the keep stood nearly forty feet tall, the chapel stood only about twenty-four feet. Nearly half of that was the steeple. From the outside it looked fairly utilitarian, especially for a nobleman’s private chapel. It was made from the same dense rock as the castle. With the exception of the single stained glass window, the outside of the small church was almost remarkably drab.

  The inside of the building was a different matter. The chapel had been built by the baron’s grandfather who had been a very devout man. While there was little he could do regarding the exterior of the structure, he had spared no expense on the interior. He had hired some of the best painters in the kingdom to paint the scenes on the walls. Every fixture in the building was brass or bronze, and every religious item was gold or silver. Thick, rich carpets lay on the floor, and the stoup was jewel encrusted on the outside, with a bowl made of gold.

  Normally Alaric would have stopped at the Body to pray, after crossing himself with the holy water. This time, his entrance was almost wholly perfunctory. He paused to cross himself, but then bypassed the chapel itself, and moved directly to the priests’ quarters. These, too, showed the devotion of his great-grandfather. While one could hardly call them decadent, they were very comfortable, and the senior priest had a suite which included a small library. It was here Alaric quickly led Kahji.

  The room was a circle perhaps twelve feet across. The walls themselves were shelves. Most of them were normal book shelves, with a few designed as pigeon holes for scrolls. From the center of the ceiling hung a wrought iron chandelier. The floor of the room was dominated by two pieces of furniture. The first was a small desk and chair. The desk was made from a wood Alaric did not immediately recognize. The chair was made of the same wood. It was his understanding they had been made from the same tree. The larger piece was the focus of his attention. This was the map.

  The map was an octagonal table roughly five feet from one corner to the opposing corner. The center of the map was a circle, about 30 inches across, which showed the whole of Mediatus. At each of the four cardinal sides was a map of the edge of one of the other realms: Infierno, the realm of fire; Molarus, the realm of stone; Undu, the realm of water; and Ventis, the realm of air. The other four sides showed maps of the Border lands between each of the other four realms: the Firestorm between Infierno and Ventis, the Burning Mountains between Infierno and Molarus, The Great Bog between Molarus and Undu, and the Tempest between Undu and Ventis.

  Sitting on the map was a small map magnifier. Alaric moved it over to the area where his f
ather’s castle sat. Finding the castle he started moving the magnifier in methodic circles. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and at first just tried to get a feel for the land as laid out by the map.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?”

  The voice startled both Alaric and Kahji, and both jumped slightly. Alaric stood from the table, and there he saw Father Bayard. The senior priest of the chapel, Father Bayard was nearing 60 years old, but looked only 40. His eyes were still bright, and his physical condition was certainly not that of an older man. He kept his head and face shaved, and wore the simplest robes he could. If he was startled by the presence of an Igni in his private chambers, he certainly did not show it.

  “Father, my deepest apologies. I would not normally have entered your quarters while you were gone, certainly not without your permission, but the matter is most urgent.”

  “Alaric, my son, no apology is necessary. What can I do to help?”

  “I’m not certain, Father. I’m not even completely certain what I’m looking for. I’m sure you’re aware of the attacks that have been happening on the Border, and the attack here today. Well, it is my belief that these Frost Fiends are seeking something. I don’t know if it is some artifact, or some location, or what, but I believe they have a specific goal. If I can figure out what that goal is, and where it is or where they believe it to be I might be able to stop any further attacks.”

  “What do you have to go on?”

  “Not much, unfortunately. We believe that they attacked the castle because they are limited in how far they can simply appear ‘cross over’ is the term Kahji uses into Mediatus. If that’s the case, then the goal would have to further from the Border than the castle is.”

  Kahji interrupted, “That is not necessarily true. It could be that the castle is just well situated for sorties against whatever they are doing. You are the one who suggested they have begun thinking tactically. I can tell you, if I were any closer than about one hundred of your miles to your castle, and I was going to be doing something that required me to stay there, I would want to neutralize the threat it represents.”

  Alaric looked sour, “You’re right. So we’re talking a semi-circle of roughly one hundred miles, centered on the castle and extending toward the Border, and another semi-circle of indeterminate size centered on the castle and extending toward the center of the realm. Because this job wasn’t already big enough.”

  “I can see the problem,” the priest mused, “and understand your urgency.”

  Alaric could see that his words were only semi-conscious. Father Bayard was already looking at the map. Even so, his eyes were half lidded, as though he was using the map more as a memory aid than for any information it might give him.

  Alaric continued, “We were hoping to speak with Monsignor Manitoc. It is said he made a great discovery about the Ancients recently, and we were hoping to meet him at the duke’s castle. We were told he had come to this area somewhere, but no one seems to know where. If anyone might help us divine the nature of these beasts’ goal, let alone its location, it would be him.”

  The cleric looked surprised, “Manitoc came through here? It is exceedingly strange that he would not have stopped at the castle. Beyond the fact of its discourtesy, he usually makes a point to come see me when he is in the area.”

  “Father and I thought it strange as well. I had no idea he normally came to see you as well, but it seemed odd that he wouldn’t come to the castle. I don’t suppose you have any idea what he had discovered. Had he sent you anything since his discovery?”

  “No, and that seems doubly strange. Nearly half of my collection of scrolls over there is research into the Ancients. Whenever the monsignor had new information, he would have it copied and sent to me.”

  “I had no idea you were a researcher. How much do you know about them?”

  “Well, I certainly don’t claim the depth or scope of knowledge that the monsignor has, but I know more than most, I would wager.”

  “Perhaps you can be of more help than we thought, then. We believe that the Frost Fiends are seeking something of the Ancients. We don’t know what it would be, or where. Perhaps you can direct us. What do we know about the Ancients, and where are the closest artifact sites?”

  “Well, we don’t know much,” the priest began. “As you should be aware from your own lessons, our people arrived here some centuries ago, transported by some mystical or miraculous means. When we arrived, the Four Races were already well established in their own Realms, and the Ancients had been gone for some centuries.

  “What we do know suggests they were magicians of great power. The greatest powers of the Igni are said to pale in comparison with those of the Ancients. Some even believe that the Four Races, and the Realms they inhabit, were created by the Ancients. That would suggest that whatever you are searching for would be an object of great power. How you could discern that, I have no idea. As for artifact sites, we don’t really have very many that we know of, here in the Firemarch,” Bayard said as he bent back over the map, “and the ones I know of have already been picked clean by adventurers, mercenaries, and researchers.”

  “Maybe we can find something they missed.”

  “Perhaps so. Hmmm.” The priest started moving the magnifier on the map. Eventually he found what he was looking for. “Here,” he said, “this is the closest of them. It’s only about two hours’ ride away.”

  Alaric bent to the magnifier to look at what Father Bayard had pointed out. The area was actually known to him already, he realized. He and his friends had found some old artifacts there several years ago. He couldn’t imagine what might still be there, but it was a better lead than any others they had. “Please, if you can remember where the others are, let us know.”

  “Certainly, my son. Any help I or the Lord can give you, you shall have.”

  They passed back out of the priests’ quarters, past the stoup, and back out into the courtyard. As they made their way back to the keep, Kahji spoke. “Do you think your father will relent?”

  “No. Even now we don’t have much more than the slightest sliver of a lead. It will take something more concrete to budge my father. But maybe he’ll at least let me go, to see if I can find that something more concrete.”

  “And what if you find the Frost Fiend army we both fear?”

  “I’ll run like Hell itself is on my heels.”

  “Wise.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Father, please reconsider. I am not asking for any of your soldiers. I am not asking for a week. I am asking to go myself, accompanied only by Kahji, and we would return within three days. The place itself is known to you.”

  Alaric was having trouble keeping his temper in check. He’d been arguing with his father over the matter for nearly an hour. The baron’s intransigence confused the young knight; he had never before been so stubborn. Normally, for so little a request, his father would have been more than glad to see him depart the castle.

  “No, Alaric. I have said no, and I will continue to say no. Your place is here until we are sure the threat has ended.”

  “How are we supposed….”

  “I have said no. There will be no more discussion on this point.” Boores’ face was beginning to color with his anger.

  “Very well, Father.”

  As Alaric excused himself, he considered the change in his father. This was so unlike him, that he almost believed some simulacrum to have taken his place. Baron Dell was not this hesitant. He was not this stubborn.

  Alaric tried to put it down to shame and fear; shame at having frozen in the face of the enemy, and fear that he would do so again. Those did not make sense to him, though. For one thing, the baron had never been a prideful man. He knew his limitations and accepted them. Fear was not something to be avoided, but confronted. Alaric had learned that, in those words, from his father. Shame and fear simply did not fit this change in behavior.

  Whatever the reason for his stubbornness, Alaric was n
ow stuck. His father had expressly forbidden him even to leave the castle. If he was going to do what he believed necessary to save the barony, he would have to go against his father’s direct command. That was a step that Alaric, in all his rebellious youth, had never taken. That he was even contemplating such a move disturbed him greatly.

  But contemplating it he was. To his mind, it might be the only chance to save the barony. Even now, the Frost Fiends could be regrouping. He did not believe an attack was imminent, but it could be. He was certain that another concentrated attack would spell the end of the castle. Their soldiers simply could not fight against such a powerful enemy.

  Soldier for soldier, while manning the walls, the human men-at-arms and knights had performed better than he could have hoped. If he had been sure the walls would hold, he wouldn’t have hesitated to let the Frost Fiends come again. As it was, he devoutly hoped the walls would be repaired before they returned. Once those walls fell, Alaric knew his men would be greatly overmatched, and would fall quickly.

  Despite all of this, obedience to his father was a core part of Alaric’s being. Besides being the baron, and his father, Boores Dell was his liege lord. On top of that, Alaric’s piety had reinforced obedience and honor of his parents as well as obedience to God’s appointed earthly authorities. To disobey his father was a step he was simply unprepared to take.

  With the turmoil in his heart and mind, Alaric did what he always did on such occasions. He went to speak with God. He knew he would at least find comfort in his Lord’s embrace, if not clarity and direction.

  So it was with a determined yet heavy step that he turned toward the chapel. Upon entering, he crossed himself at the jewel encrusted stoup, and then entered the sanctuary proper. He approached the tabernacle and knelt there before God’s Son, pouring his turmoil out only half coherently. He would pray some, and then fall silent, then he would pray some more. For perhaps an hour he all but cried there, seeking direction.