Frostborn: The World Gate (29 page)

“Quickly!” shouted Gareth. “Into the towers. Close the gates! Close the gates!” 

###

“The stairs,” said Ridmark.

Morigna looked at the stairs upon which the Weaver perched and nodded. Ridmark slipped the dwarven war axe from his belt with his left hand, the dwarven glyphs upon the blade shining in the gloom. She saw his plan readily enough. She would distract the Weaver, and then he could attack, hoping to land a crippling blow upon the creature.

Except the Weaver knew her capabilities and would expect them. And if she moved too far from the light of Ridmark’s staff, she would be paralyzed and helpless. She wanted to tell him to stop, to think of a better plan. Yet if they did not act soon, the Mhorites and their allies would storm Dun Licinia, and Ridmark and Morigna would die alongside everyone else.

Ridmark tensed, preparing to move, and the Weaver shifted. Morigna gathered earth magic, preparing to work a spell…

White fire rolled through the chamber, the veil of shadows unraveling. The light from the room’s hearth became brighter, the air clearer. The Weaver looked around, blinking. Morigna had seen this spell before. Calliande had used it in Khald Azalar to shatter Shadowbearer’s crippling shadows.

“Now!” shouted Ridmark, and Morigna cast her spell. The stone stairs rippled and undulated beneath the Weaver’s paws, and the big creature stumbled. Ridmark was already moving, his axe in both hands. The Weaver started to regain his footing, but it was too late. Ridmark brought the axe down in an overhead swing, and the blow split the Weaver’s skull in half. That kind of wound would have killed a real ursaar, but the Weaver exploded into a snarling vortex of black threads. The vortex retreated up the stairs, reforming himself into the shape of the urhaalgar, but Ridmark was already moving. Somehow he had guessed where the Weaver’s new head would be, and he swung the axe, burying the dwarven blade in the urhaalgar’s skull. 

Again the Weaver erupted into a maze of whipping black threads. He seemed immune to mortal wounds, wounds that would have killed a normal man…but those wounds forced him to change shape. Perhaps there was a limit to how many times the Weaver could change forms before needing rest. If Ridmark could wear him down, if he could force the Enlightened to the end of his endurance, perhaps they could prevail.

Ridmark chased the Weaver up the stairs, and Morigna ran after him.

Behind her the door burst open, and men swarmed into the guard room.

###

Calliande watched as men raced towards the gate towers, as the Mhorites sprinted towards the opened gate. Dux Gareth gave a steady stream of commands, preparing the town for the oncoming assault. Arrows began to fall from the ramparts as the Mhorites and kobolds came within range, and companies of militia and men-at-arms rushed to the wall. One of the scouts announced that the dvargir were bringing up siege ladders, likely built in the woods north of town. The Mhorites would hit the gate, while the dvargir attacked the walls. If they struck with enough force, if the Mhorites broke through or the dvargir gained a foothold upon the wall, they would lose the town. Thousands of people would die…and thousands upon thousands more when Shadowbearer opened his gate.

“Antenora,” said Calliande. “Can you seal off the gate with a wall of flame?” Antenora nodded, her staff glowing. “If they can’t get the gate closed again, we will have to fight. Be ready to seal the gate if necessary.” 

There was a flash of white between the towers. A woman in a white robe appeared atop the ramparts, gazing down at the forum.

“Imaria!” said Gareth. Even with all the tumult in the forum, his voice burst through the chaos like a thunderbolt. “Stop this madness at once!”

“Madness?” said Imaria, her voice amplified by a spell. “I call it truth, my father! I have seen the truth, and that truth is that you and all the world shall perish!” She laughed, long and loud and wild. “I renounce you! I renounce the High King! I renounce God and the church! The shadow of Incariel shall consume all!”

Calliande thrust her staff, throwing a bolt of white fire at Imaria. Shadows swirled around the traitorous Magistria, and she vanished into nothingness. She had disappeared that way in the keep, and it seemed that the shadow of Incariel had given her the ability to travel as Mara did. 

“Keeper!” said Antenora, pointing.

Imaria reappeared atop the western tower, her white robe billowing around her. Calliande began to work another spell.

“Not yet, Keeper!” shouted Imaria. “It is not yet your hour to face me! But it has been foretold. I shall break you utterly, and destroy all that you love!”

Calliande’s white fire struck the turret, but Imaria was already gone. 

The Mhorites sprinted closer to the gate, the kobolds rushing before them. 

###

Ridmark ran up the stairs, chasing the fleeing Weaver. Sunlight spilled through an arrow slit ahead, and the Weaver unraveled into black threads, changing himself into some sort of winged serpent. The creature sprang into the arrow slit and took to the air, vanishing from sight. 

Ridmark hesitated for a half-second, but there was no way for him to pursue the Weaver. 

And if Imaria had jammed the gate open, Dun Licinia was about to have much larger problems.

Ridmark went up one more turn of the stairs to the room that housed the gate machinery. 

Dun Licinia had the same sort of clockwork mechanism as the other towns and castras in the High Kingdom, a machine that let the gates open quickly with the simple pull of a lever. The Iron Tower had boasted a similar device, at least until the fortress had fallen to Crowlacht and his warriors. Whatever magic Imaria had used had rusted the massive steel gears and weights into a single crusted mass of orange-red. 

Morigna stumbled up the stairs after him, holding both her staff and his own. 

“That is not good,” she said, looking at the gears. 

“No,” said Ridmark, taking his staff from her and returning the axe to his belt. In time they could break the chains binding the gates to the mechanism and close the massive doors, but the Mhorites would be in the town long before that.

“Gray Knight!” Two of Sir Joram’s men-at-arms scrambled up the stairs. “What news? Where is the foe?” Their eyes widened as they saw the broken machine.

“Go to the forum, quickly,” said Ridmark. “The enemy will soon be upon us.” 

###

The only times Gavin had ever been involved in a siege had been at the Iron Tower and at Vulmhosk, and those had been skirmishes. So he knew only a little about siege warfare, but even he could see that Dun Licinia’s position was not a good one.

Ridmark sprinted from the gate towers and crossed the forum, Morigna on his heels. Kharlacht, Caius, Mara and Jager had joined Gavin, and they waited near Arandar, Sir Constantine, Antenora, and Calliande. The Dux and Sir Joram stood a short distance nearby, both men giving a steady stream of orders to everyone in sight. Calliande waited in the center of everything, the staff of the Keeper glimmering with white fire. Antenora’s head was bowed, her gloved hands clasping her staff, and another fireball was shimmering into existence above her. 

“My lord,” said Ridmark, skidding to a stop before them. “Imaria destroyed the gate machinery. We cannot close it.” 

“Break the chains, then,” said Gareth. 

“There is not enough time,” said Joram. “The enemy will be upon us in moments. My lord, we must form a shield wall in the gate. Else the Mhorites will swarm over us.”

“Wait!” said Calliande. She gestured at Antenora. “My apprentice can seal the gate with a wall of flames.”

“You can?” said Gareth, his surprise plain. “How long will it last?”

“For hours, my lord,” said Antenora, not looking up, her arms shuddering a little as if she strained to lift some great weight. A ball of fire two feet across rotated over her head, and Sir Constantine and some of the other knights gave it a wary look. “But only if I am not opposed by other wielders of magical force. The Mhorite shamans proved able to break my spells in Khald Azalar, and they shall do so here.” 

“Very well,” said Gareth. “Apprentice, strike when ready. Joram, Constantine, assemble a shield wall within the forum. If the enemy can break through the flames, we shall need to be ready.”

“I will return to the ramparts, my lord,” said Calliande. “When the Mhorite shamans or the shadowscribes try to break Antenora’s spell, I will attempt to counter them.” 

“I shall stay here,” said Ridmark. “The fighting will likely be the sharpest here, and perhaps our aid will be useful.”

Gavin nodded and stepped closer to Ridmark, the others following suit. As he did, Antenora leveled her staff and gestured, and the ball of fire shot forward. The men-at-arms flinched as it passed, but Antenora’s control did not waver. The fireball hurtled through the gate and struck the ground just inside the arch, erupting with a tremendous blast of fire. A wall of flame spread before the gate like a veil of harsh yellow-orange light. The Mhorite charge stumbled to a halt, but Gavin knew that would not last long. Sooner or later the shamans would punch through. 

A shield wall of men-at-arms formed within the gate, the firelight glinting off their armor and helmets. Ridmark ran to join them, and Gavin followed him. 

###

Calliande reached the rampart after the Dux, her Sight sweeping the field outside the town.

The entire enemy army was in motion. A vast mob of kobold raiders and Mhorite warriors charged towards the gate, while columns of dvargir warriors moved towards the walls. They carried six massive siege ladders between them, and the dvargir screened the warriors carrying the ladders with their shields. The archers upon the walls poured a steady stream of shafts at the kobolds and the Mhorites. Calliande wished that Antenora could throw blasts of fire at the advancing dvargir, but Antenora could not divide her attention between the gate and the army outside the walls. Dark magic flared before her Sight, and behind the advancing dvargir she spotted a Mhorite shaman, blood-tinged dark magic snarling around him as he started to dispel the wall of flames. Calliande struck first, hitting him with a burst of white fire that collapsed the defensive wards carved onto his skin. The distant shaman staggered, and Calliande followed with a spell of elemental magic. The ground beneath the shaman’s feet erupted in flame, flinging him into the air. 

Three more shamans began casting, scattered throughout the enemy host. Calliande summoned more power, preparing to strike, when her Sight detected four more shamans starting spells of their own. They were not directing their dark magic at the gate.

They were directing it at her, and they had summoned enough dark magic to strike her dead. 

Calliande had no choice but to cast a ward around herself, gripping her staff with both hands. Blood-colored fire hammered into her, rebounding against her shell of white light, and distantly she noticed the Dux and the men-at-arms staring at her with astonishment. The wrath of the shamans should have broken through her wards and killed her, but the mantle of the Keeper infused her magic. The attacks shattered in a burst of sparks and smoke, and Calliande released her wards, focusing her will upon the shamans. 

But it was too late. While she had been distracted, the shamans had unraveled Antenora’s wall of fire, and the tide of kobolds and Mhorites surged into Dun Licinia’s northern gate. 

###

Ridmark dodged, the kobold’s poisoned spear missing his belly by a few inches. The gray-scaled creature pursued him, its yellow eyes bright and eager. He caught its spear behind the head with his staff and yanked, jerking the kobold towards him. The creature’s clawed toes rasped against the flagstones as it tried to regain its balance, but before it could recover he whipped his staff around, driving the end against the kobold’s skull. 

The creature collapsed, the spear bouncing away, and Ridmark turned in search of a new enemy. 

He had no shortage from which to choose. 

Sir Joram’s shield wall buckled under the sheer weight of Mhorite warriors pouring through the archway. With so many Mhorites and kobolds and men-at-arms and militiamen packed into such a small space, Antenora could not bring her powers to bear for fear of burning their own soldiers. She had retreated to the ramparts to join Calliande’s ferocious duel with the shamans outside the wall, pausing from time to time to fling a fireball at the masses of dvargir warriors below the ramparts. Four of the six dvargir siege ladders had reached the walls, the dvargir ignoring the charred carcasses of the mzrokars to attack. Fighting raged all along the northern rampart, and the disciplined, tenacious dvargir warriors were proving more deadly than the kobolds. Step by step the dvargir carved out footholds for themselves upon the ramparts. 

The men-at-arms and militiamen and knights put up a ferocious fight, and the Swordbearers left corpses in their wake wherever they strode, but it was not enough. Could Ridmark get Calliande away before Dun Licinia fell? Could they strike for Black Mountain and stop Shadowbearer? If Shadowbearer opened the gate, far more towns than Dun Licinia would burn. 

Three Mhorites rushed at Ridmark, brandishing their swords and howling the name of Mhor, and he had no more time for plans. Ridmark parried the first blow and whipped his staff in a circle, driving the weapon into the side of the nearest Mhorite’s head with a loud crack. The warrior went down, and behind him Morigna cast a spell. The ground rippled, and Ridmark killed a second Mhorite. Next to him Kharlacht raised his sword and brought the massive blade down.

Blood spattered across the cobblestones, and the Mhorite’s head rolled away. 

“Gray Knight!” shouted Caius, shaking blood from the head of his mace. “We cannot stay here!” 

“For once I agree with the friar!” said Morigna.

Ridmark opened his mouth to answer, and then he heard the drums.

Drums boomed over the walls, accompanied by the groaning wail of war horns.