men discovered them, they would have to fight.
But they came to the northwestern edge of the hills and sheltered in a small valley. It was a defensible location, and would be hard to spot at night. If Paul’s men-at-arms found them, they could choose between standing and fighting or falling back. Though Ridmark hoped it would not come to that.
They secured the horses, and Morigna summoned a sphere of pale blue light around her hand, just enough to let them see. Just as well that none of the thirteen moons were in the sky. The lack of light was annoying, but made it easier to hide. Then they gathered in a circle around Mara and Jager, the faint light throwing harsh shadows.
“This seems like a trial,” said Jager.
Ridmark shook his head. “I am neither a Dux nor a Comes nor even a knight, not any longer. I simply want to know the truth.”
Mara touched Jager’s arm. “If they wanted me dead, my love, the Magistria would not have healed me.”
“If they had wanted you dead,” said Jager, glancing at Ridmark, “they would have had to go through me.”
Mara’s smile was sad. “Could you have stopped them? Truly?”
Jager sighed. “No.”
“I do not want to kill anyone,” said Ridmark. “My purpose, as I have told you, is to retrieve the soulstone from the Iron Tower before Shadowbearer takes it. I told Jager I would help to rescue you from the Iron Tower, and in exchange, he would help to retrieve the soulstone. Though I suppose there is no longer any need for that.”
“He stole it in the first place,” said Mara, “so we shall help you recover it.” Jager opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded. “If I can.”
“Then tell me,” said Ridmark. “Who are you?”
Mara raised a pale eyebrow. “You mean what am I?”
Ridmark did not answer.
Mara looked at the sky for a moment. “What do you know of the Prince of Nightmane Forest?”
“Only what I learned from my tutors as a child,” said Ridmark. “Nightmane Forest lies east of here, between Coldinium and the Northerland. A dark elven noble called the Traveler rules over it, and he is a wizard of considerable power. He was a vassal of the urdmordar, and marched with them against the High King. After the Swordbearers and the Magistri overthrew the urdmordar, the Traveler fled to Nightmane Forest and has not left it since. He commands several tribes of mutated orcs that worship him as a god. The High King would have destroyed his realm, but his wards are too strong. And in truth, he is not much of a threat. He only has a few thousand orcs. Sometimes he raids the realm to claim slaves, but the last time was…thirty years ago, I think, in the Year of Our Lord 1448. The lords of the realm gathered to defeat him. My father told me of it.” Ridmark had not thought about that in years. He tried to avoid thinking of his father and his brothers. Leogrance Arban did not approve of what his youngest son had become.
“You tell it true, sir,” said Mara. “Legend does not overstate the cruelty of the dark elves. The Traveler takes slaves for labor, or as victims for his cruelty. He also takes female slaves to slake his lusts, for he has not seen a dark elven woman in a very long time. My mother was one such slave. I believe she was the daughter of a freeholder of the Northerland.”
“What does the Traveler do,” said Ridmark, though he suspected he knew the answer, “with his half-breed children?”
“Some he kills,” said Mara, “in magical rituals to increase his own power. Others he transforms into his creatures. The weakest he makes into urshanes. The strongest he transforms into urdhracosi or even urvuuls. I suspect that what was he intended for me.”
“How did you escape?” said Ridmark.
“My mother,” said Mara. “She realized what would happen, outwitted the Traveler’s orcs, and slipped into the wilderness with me. She died when I was very young…no more than five or six years old, I think, though I don’t know for
But they came to the northwestern edge of the hills and sheltered in a small valley. It was a defensible location, and would be hard to spot at night. If Paul’s men-at-arms found them, they could choose between standing and fighting or falling back. Though Ridmark hoped it would not come to that.
They secured the horses, and Morigna summoned a sphere of pale blue light around her hand, just enough to let them see. Just as well that none of the thirteen moons were in the sky. The lack of light was annoying, but made it easier to hide. Then they gathered in a circle around Mara and Jager, the faint light throwing harsh shadows.
“This seems like a trial,” said Jager.
Ridmark shook his head. “I am neither a Dux nor a Comes nor even a knight, not any longer. I simply want to know the truth.”
Mara touched Jager’s arm. “If they wanted me dead, my love, the Magistria would not have healed me.”
“If they had wanted you dead,” said Jager, glancing at Ridmark, “they would have had to go through me.”
Mara’s smile was sad. “Could you have stopped them? Truly?”
Jager sighed. “No.”
“I do not want to kill anyone,” said Ridmark. “My purpose, as I have told you, is to retrieve the soulstone from the Iron Tower before Shadowbearer takes it. I told Jager I would help to rescue you from the Iron Tower, and in exchange, he would help to retrieve the soulstone. Though I suppose there is no longer any need for that.”
“He stole it in the first place,” said Mara, “so we shall help you recover it.” Jager opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded. “If I can.”
“Then tell me,” said Ridmark. “Who are you?”
Mara raised a pale eyebrow. “You mean what am I?”
Ridmark did not answer.
Mara looked at the sky for a moment. “What do you know of the Prince of Nightmane Forest?”
“Only what I learned from my tutors as a child,” said Ridmark. “Nightmane Forest lies east of here, between Coldinium and the Northerland. A dark elven noble called the Traveler rules over it, and he is a wizard of considerable power. He was a vassal of the urdmordar, and marched with them against the High King. After the Swordbearers and the Magistri overthrew the urdmordar, the Traveler fled to Nightmane Forest and has not left it since. He commands several tribes of mutated orcs that worship him as a god. The High King would have destroyed his realm, but his wards are too strong. And in truth, he is not much of a threat. He only has a few thousand orcs. Sometimes he raids the realm to claim slaves, but the last time was…thirty years ago, I think, in the Year of Our Lord 1448. The lords of the realm gathered to defeat him. My father told me of it.” Ridmark had not thought about that in years. He tried to avoid thinking of his father and his brothers. Leogrance Arban did not approve of what his youngest son had become.
“You tell it true, sir,” said Mara. “Legend does not overstate the cruelty of the dark elves. The Traveler takes slaves for labor, or as victims for his cruelty. He also takes female slaves to slake his lusts, for he has not seen a dark elven woman in a very long time. My mother was one such slave. I believe she was the daughter of a freeholder of the Northerland.”
“What does the Traveler do,” said Ridmark, though he suspected he knew the answer, “with his half-breed children?”
“Some he kills,” said Mara, “in magical rituals to increase his own power. Others he transforms into his creatures. The weakest he makes into urshanes. The strongest he transforms into urdhracosi or even urvuuls. I suspect that what was he intended for me.”
“How did you escape?” said Ridmark.
“My mother,” said Mara. “She realized what would happen, outwitted the Traveler’s orcs, and slipped into the wilderness with me. She died when I was very young…no more than five or six years old, I think, though I don’t know for
Similar Books
