The Icemark Chronicles: The Cry of the Icemark (31 page)

Grishmak agreed that sending back some of the escort was a good plan, and he ordered some of the Wolffolk to guide them back to the Hypolitan. “In fact, I’d send them all back if I were you. It’d be far better if just you and the Witch’s Son went to the Hub of the World. Lord Tharaman-Thar would be far more impressed by the bravery of a small party than the glitter of an escort.”

“Wouldn’t it make the Royal House of the Icemark seem less important if only Oskan and I go?” Thirrin asked, politely accepting yet another platter of toasted meat from Grishmak’s chamberlain.

The King barked a short laugh. “This nest of Vampires might be dazzled by the sight of soldiers and weapons — after all, your dad
did
beat them in battle — but the Snow Leopards are different. They understand a brave heart and think it gives more glory to a ruler than any number of soldiers.”

“Oh. Doesn’t Thara … Tharaman-Thar have many soldiers himself, then?”

Grishmak patted her knee affectionately with a huge hairy paw. “You don’t have to worry about that. His Snow Leopards may not outnumber the Empire’s armies, but when he calls them to fight, they’re an avalanche of power; they’re a blizzard of ferocity. I think even Scipio Bellorum would be daunted by the sight.”

Thirrin nodded, secretly thinking that the Empire would soon be fighting the strangest army it had ever come into conflict with. Not only would humans be taking the field against them, but Wolffolk, Vampires, and possibly even giant Snow Leopards! If she were Scipio Bellorum, she’d take one look at the ravening monsters waiting to fight her, turn right around, and run all the way back to the Polypontus.

But that wasn’t going to happen. General Bellorum was a
brilliant and vicious soldier; he’d adapt, and so would his army. No miracles would win the war against him, just hard fighting and hopefully brilliant tactics. She felt suddenly weary, so after emptying her plate of meat, she politely withdrew from the werewolves and went to sit in a quiet corner at the back of the cave, where she immediately fell asleep.

Thirrin was woken by the sound of huge wings beating the air. By the cave entrance she could see King Grishmak waiting patiently with his courtiers and, scrambling to her feet, she hurried over to him.

“Ah, Thirrin, there you are. I was just about to send a chamberlain for you.”

“What’s that noise?” she asked as the sound of the wing beats continued to thunder on the air.

“Vampires,” the King answered. “In their bat form. I think it’s the King and Queen come to sign the treaty, along with most of their court, by the sound of things.”

Several huge leathery creatures dropped out of the darkening evening sky and literally stepped out of flight, like fashionable ladies descending elegantly from a carriage. Vampires settled at the cave entrance, where they folded their massive wings with fussy neatness and looked around them. They were an odd gray color, like the dawn sky on a rainy day, and they had doglike faces with massive fangs. Their features began to run and blur, like pictures left in the rain, and their bodies seemed to flow like candle wax until slowly they coagulated into their human shapes.

“Ah, King Grishmak and Queen Thirrin,” said the Vampire Queen as she smoothed her beautiful silk gown. “My consort and I have come to sample your hospitality … and while we’re here we might as well sign this treaty you’re so keen on.”

“Your Vampiric Majesties are both welcome to the Embassy of the Wolffolk. Please come in and be seated,” said Grishmak, and he led the way to the largest fire in the cave, where a semicircle of four massive boulders had been set up as rough thrones.

The Werewolf King escorted the Vampires to their seats, then, taking Thirrin’s hand, he led her to the boulder next to his. As they all sat, Thirrin couldn’t help noticing that she and Grishmak were looking down on Their Vampiric Majesties. And that the Vampires’ long limbs were stretched out in front of them so they looked like schoolchildren who had outgrown their desks. She smiled secretly to herself; there were obviously times when points could be scored even within the restrictions of diplomacy.

Oskan took up a position behind Thirrin’s throne, and a silence fell as they all looked at one another. At last the Vampire King said, “Well, as we’re obviously not going to be offered any refreshments, we might as well get this treaty signed.”

“I have no blood to offer you,” Grishmak explained. “And for some reason, nobody wanted to volunteer when I asked for donors.”

“Werewolf blood is tainted with animal,” the Vampire Queen said with a shudder. “But human, on the other hand …”

“… is not being offered,” Thirrin interrupted coldly.

“Then let’s get down to business,” the Vampire King said with a weary sigh.

Grishmak raised his paw, and five gray-pelted werewolves came forward, the foremost one holding the rolled vellum of the treaty in his hand. He bowed deeply to the figures on the thrones and, after a nod from Grishmak, he said, “My colleagues
and I have studied the document in detail, and have found several … errors in its composition.”

“Errors?” the Vampire Queen asked in a bored voice.

“Yes. Somehow a clause had been inserted that required Queen Thirrin to cede a third of her lands to Your Vampiric Majesties and to pay a tithe of twenty youths and twenty maidens per month.”

“Really? I can’t think how that happened,” the Vampire King said with wide-eyed innocence. “Must have been a slip of the pen.”

“That being the case, I am sure that Their Vampiric Majesties will raise no objection to the fact that I and my colleagues took it upon ourselves to erase this clause — and the one that required the Icemark to acknowledge its status as a vassal to The-Land-of-the-Ghosts.”

The Vampires coughed and looked away. “Yes, yes. All right!” the Queen finally said into the following silence. “Let’s just sign the treaty and we can get back to our palace and away from this …
rustic idyll.”

Grishmak snapped his fingers, and a chamberlain appeared carrying a cushion on which lay four daggers and four quills. Thirrin followed the werewolf’s lead and picked up one of the daggers and one of the quills, and waited almost breathlessly as the cushion was then carried to the royal Vampires. They, too, picked up a dagger and quill each and, without hesitation, each of them cut their forearms and dipped the point of the quills into the running blood.

The gray-pelted werewolf now presented the treaty, and Their Vampiric Majesties signed their names. Grishmak also cut his forearm, though without the same drama or depth that the Vampires had used, and dipped the quill into the small
nick. He signed his name on the treaty and turned with a smile to Thirrin. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and cut her arm. The blade was sharp and the blood ran easily, and quickly she added her name to the other three on the treaty. In the dim light of the cave she thought the blood looked black, and she almost shuddered as she watched it trickle, shiny and thick, across the vellum.

Then Grishmak leaped to his feet, threw back his head, and howled with such bloodcurdling ferocity that all other sound fell away. The Werewolf King’s deep guttural voice then boomed out, “May all the goddesses and gods of the earth and sky, all the spirits of blood and death, all the watchers and keepers of oaths see this act and hold our written names as binding. And may any and all who break this trust fall from the face of the Mother Earth and live an unending life skinned under the endless gaze of the blazing sun, mortal and immortal, Vampire, Wolffolk, and human being!” He turned his bloodshot gaze on Their Vampiric Majesties. “By garlic, wood, and cleansing fire,
so mote it be!”

The Vampire King and Queen leaped to their feet and hissed, drawing their moist red lips back from their pointed teeth. “You go too far, Grishmak!”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, his voice mild and calm once more. “But now you’re bound, and not even you would dare break this treaty.”

The Vampire King and Queen hissed again and, striding to the cave exit, they and their courtiers transformed back into giant bats and flew away screeching.

“Good, that’s a job well done,” Grishmak said cheerfully. “Am I the only one who’s hungry?”

T
hey had been traveling for most of the short winter day. The air was freezing cold, and tiny particles of ice drifted and shimmered in the brilliant sunlight so that they seemed to be journeying through a world of polished crystal. Thirrin and Oskan were snuggled down deep under thick coverings of fur while the glittering white world rolled rapidly past. They were in a long low sleigh being pulled at breakneck speed by six enormous white werewolves, their legs pounding tirelessly through the snow, while their arms pistoned the air like parts of a living machine. Alongside them was a second sleigh packed with food and fuel and other equipment needed for their survival in the wilds of the far north. This, too, was being drawn by six of the white Wolffolk, and as they ran they constantly raised their snouts to the air as though smelling their route to the top of the world.

The Wolffolk had arrived the day before at King Grishmak’s cave, announcing their presence with a great clamoring and baying that even Thirrin’s untrained ear could tell was different from the usual werewolf language. With them was one of the King’s runners, who had set out three days earlier to
find them, and she saluted her leader proudly as she approached.

“They were far to the north and east, My Lord,” she had explained in the human tongue. “But they answered your summons at once.”

The King nodded, and turned to the newly arrived werewolves, who immediately howled in salute. “Wolffolk of the Icesheets, I have an important task for you,” he had said. “This human female is Thirrin Freer Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Wildcat of the North, Queen of the Icemark, and ally of our people. She is also my beloved friend whose safety and good health I cherish above all others.”

The huge white werewolves turned to gaze at her, their ferocious faces for a moment calm as they sniffed the air, marking her scent and memorizing her form. Then, as one, they threw back their heads and howled.

“Your task, my people, is to take Queen Thirrin and her adviser to the court of the Snow Leopards at the Hub of the World, where she will invite their King to join our alliance against the Polypontian Empire. Her safety and good health are your responsibility. No blood must be spilled unless it be yours, no breath may be stilled but your own. You will set your teeth at death and you will be an enemy of failure. And you will return the Queen here to this cave in one half of the Blessed Moon’s cycle. Do you understand?”

The leader of the white Wolffolk, Grinelda Blood-tooth, then stepped forward. She stood a head taller than even the King, and to Thirrin and Oskan her mouth seemed as full of teeth as a forest of trees.

“Lord Tharaman-Thar and his Snow Leopards are a fearsome people, King Grishmak Blood-drinker,” she said
bluntly. “But the human Queen will be returned safely to you, or we’ll die defending her.”

“Thank you, Grinelda Blood-tooth. I can ask no more,” Grishmak had answered after a moment’s silence, then turning to Thirrin, he’d said, “You can see now how dangerous your task is. The Snow Leopards are answerable to none. If they don’t like you, they’ll kill you.”

Here was the duty at the center of Thirrin’s power. At that moment she would have liked nothing better than to give the responsibility of it all to another, but she knew she had no choice. It was for this sort of pressure and danger that she’d been born, so she simply nodded and tried to look as though riding off to meet killer leopards was an everyday event in her life.

“Before I set off on this journey, King Grishmak, I would ask you to give shelter to Oskan the Warlock until I return, or …” she said, after a brief pause, “until I don’t return.”

The changed form of his name momentarily shocked Oskan into silence, but he quickly recovered and exploded angrily, “If you dare try to leave me behind, I’ll follow on foot, and when I die in the snow, I’ll come back and haunt you. I’ll make your life a complete misery. No ghost will ever have been as inventive in its nastiness as I’ll be: I’ll turn your food rancid; I’ll transform your drink into blood; I’ll howl and moan throughout the night; there’ll be no place safe from me. And don’t think I couldn’t do it, Thirrin, Queen of the Icemark, because I can assure you, I could.”

Thirrin looked at her young adviser, whose eyes were wide and alight with barely suppressed rage. There were times when she found his friendship terrifying, but this was soon overridden by a sense of huge relief and gratitude. At least she wouldn’t have to face the Snow Leopards alone.

“I think, King Grishmak, we’ll not need to impose on your hospitality any longer,” she’d said. “We’ll both be going to the palace of Lord Tharaman-Thar.”

The wolfman had nodded. “As you wish, My Lady,” he’d said, secretly relieved that he wouldn’t have to contain the power of an angry warlock. “We will watch keenly for your return.”