Frostborn: The Shadow Prison (Frostborn #15) Read online

  Shadows swirled atop one of the ruined walls, and a woman appeared.

  She had once looked young and beautiful, with black hair and bright green eyes. Now her skin had the pallor of a corpse, and veins of black shadow threaded their way through her flesh, pulsing in time to her heartbeat. Her eyes looked as if they had transformed into quicksilver, showing a distorted reflection of the world around her.

  Calliande drew in a sharp breath.

  Imaria Licinius Shadowbearer wore close-fitting black armor of dvargir design, the plates of metal adhering close to her body and sliding around her as if it were some sort of clockwork mechanism. Calliande had seen armor like that before. The dvargir called it urkrazdor armor, and it offered the wearer superhuman strength and speed at the cost of devouring the wearer’s life force. Likely Tarrabus Carhaine’s dvargir allies had given Imaria the armor with the thought of using it to control her.

  If so, the plan had failed miserably. The Sight saw the shadow of Incariel flooding from Imaria, surging into the armor and dominating it.

  Imaria regarded them, her black hair stirring around her head.

  “The Dragon Knight,” she said at last, speaking in the eerie double voice of the Shadowbearer. One half of her voice was the cool tones of a noblewoman of Andomhaim, but the other was an inhuman, hideous snarl, a noise that no human throat could have produced. “You have returned at last.”

  Calliande cast a spell. She called elemental fire, fusing it to the power of the Keeper’s mantle, and flung a blazing shaft of fire at Imaria. The spell struck the stone wall, blasting a portion of it to molten, glowing shards. But Imaria was already gone, vanishing in a swirl of twisting shadows.

  She reappeared atop one of the thick pillars, shadows gathering around the clawed gauntlets of black metal covering her hands.

  “Strength,” said Imaria, shaking her head. “The error of Tymandain. Strength will not save you, Keeper of Andomhaim. For the shadow of Incariel will consume all strength and replace it with freedom and glorious chaos.”

  ###

  Ridmark stepped before Calliande, Caledhmaer raised in guard.

  He knew Imaria would not hesitate to kill Calliande, both to spite Ridmark and because the Keeper represented a serious threat to Imaria’s plans. Imaria had killed Morigna simply because of her hatred for Ridmark. Yet Calliande could defend herself far more effectively than Morigna, and Ridmark now had Caledhmaer.

  Why would Imaria show herself now? If it came to an open battle, Ridmark suspected that he and Calliande could kill the new Shadowbearer.

  “Why are you here?” said Ridmark.

  He caught Third’s eye, and she gave him a faint nod.

  “To kill you both, of course,” said Imaria. “Is that not obvious?” She paused. “The dwarf and the half-breed as well, though they are of no importance.”

  “How nice to be overlooked,” said Caius.

  “I would not complain,” said Third.

  “I thought the sword would drive you mad, and you would at last experience a death worthy of your weakness and your failings,” said Imaria. “Though Tymandain thought the sword would drive Kalomarus mad, and it failed to do so. Perha ps I should have learned from his error.”

  “Kalomarus helped defeat Tymandain Shadowbearer,” said Calliande, her voice harsh.

  “He failed because he was strong and trusted in his strength,” said Imaria.

  “You are weaker than he is,” said Calliande.

  “Yes,” said Imaria without rancor. “I am weak where he was strong. His strength destroyed him. My weakness shall liberate the world from time and matter and…”

  Her voice trailed off. The quicksilver eyes narrowed.

  A spasm of fury went through the gaunt, gray face.

  “You are wed,” spat Imaria in fury. “You have wed the Keeper.”

  “Yes,” said Ridmark. “Come to offer congratulations?”

  Imaria’s reaction surprised him. The shadow of Incariel had appeared to him in the Tomb of the Dragon Knight, taunting him and trying to lure him to his destruction. As Imaria had left her humanity behind and become the Shadowbearer, much of the petty, vindictive young woman she had once been had vanished, replaced by alien evil and twisted madness.

  But from the hatred on her face, it seemed that Imaria had not yet abandoned all her humanity for the alien malice of the shadow of Incariel.

  “Tell me, Dragon Knight,” said Imaria. “When you wed the Keeper, did you take her virginity atop the tomb of my sister? It is still here, in the crypts below the castra. Or when you stripped the Keeper naked to slake your lust with her flesh, did you lay her down upon the cloak of Morigna first? Did you think of them at all as you took her? The ghosts of the women you failed to save?”

  Calliande sucked in a sharp breath. She knew how he would have reacted to those words once.

  Now, Ridmark only laughed.

  Both Calliande and Imaria looked at him in astonishment. So did Caius and Third.

  “You’ve come all this way to taunt me, Imaria?” said Ridmark. “I would have saved Aelia if I could, but no one could have saved her from Mhalek. You murdered Morigna, not I. So. Come closer, and we will settle our differences once and for all.” He could not resist throwing a taunt of his own in her face. “Just as I settled my differences with the Weaver at Khald Tormen, and just as Tarrabus Carhaine and I resolved our conflict below the walls of Tarlion.”

  Imaria shivered, her face twisting into a mask of hatred, and for a moment Ridmark thought she would leap from the pillar and try to kill him with her bare hands.

  Then the emotion seemed to drain from her face like poison lanced from a corrupted wound. The cold, distant malice returned to her expression, and she drew herself up. The day was cloudy, the sun hidden behind thick gray clouds, yet her shadow lashed behind her like a black banner, long and thick.

  “The Weaver trusted in his own strength,” said Imaria. “Tarrabus and the Enlightened believed in their own might. Now you have made them as chaff upon the threshing floor. As Jehu treated the priests of Baal upon Old Earth, do not the scriptures say? But they made the same mistake as Tymandain.”

  “Which is?” said Calliande, white fire burning up the length of the staff of the Keeper.

  “He trusted to his strength, for it was very strong,” said Imaria. “His magic was mighty, and his spells could lay entire armies waste. No foe could overcome him, and he destroyed every enemy who challenged him. But he trusted to his strength, and it failed him.”

  “But you are weak,” said Ridmark, wondering what she wanted.

  “Compared to Tymandain, yes,” said Imaria. “My magic would be no match for his. My magic will be no match for the Keeper’s. In that, I shall have victory, for my weakness shall corrode your strength.”

  “How?” said Ridmark.

  “Tymandain relied upon his strength,” said Imaria. “I shall rely upon my weakness, and the shadow of Incariel will flood me. And in the shadow, I shall find the power to liberate this world from causality and time and the chains of the flesh…”

  “It is madness,” said Calliande. “The shadow of Incariel is manipulating you. Do you think freeing it will free you? No. It will plunge this world into chaos and madness and eternal torment.”

  “Listen to her,” said Ridmark. There had been days, long days, when he had thought of nothing but killing Imaria Licinius Shadowbearer for her crimes. To his surprise, while his hatred was still there, it had cooled. He would kill her for what she had done and for what she might do, but perhaps they could talk her back from the brink.

  Imaria stared at them and then burst out laughing. “Do you think to redeem me, Dragon Knight and Keeper? Do you think that I shall repent? Or perhaps that I do not understand what I have done? No! The freedom of Incariel shall bring torment upon humanity and all the other kindreds of the world. But I have understood the truth. It is time and our bodies of flesh that imprison us and Incariel shall destroy both. It will be a torment to the w
eak-minded. But they shall revel in their freedom when they come to the same wisdom that I now possess.”

  “I say again that is nothing more than madness,” said Calliande.

  “Yes,” said Imaria. “In madness is truth. In pain is freedom. In sorrow is joy. For a hundred thousand years Tymandain Shadowbearer worked to free the shadow, and I shall complete his work.”

  “No,” said Calliande. “You will not.”

  She began casting a spell, and Imaria answered in kind, shadows writhing around her fingers. Ridmark looked to Third again and nodded, and she vanished in a flare of blue fire. An instant later blue fire pulsed atop the broken pillar, and Third appeared behind Imaria, driving her short swords of dark elven steel forward. Her timing was perfect, her swords angled to pierce both Imaria’s lungs and heart.

  But Imaria was ready. She leaped from the pillar, and it was high enough that the fall should have broken both her legs or killed her. Yet her shadow billowed like a cloak and seemed to rip into half. The shadow rose around her like wings, and she soared across the hall, landing atop the broken wall there.

  Third turned and vanished in blue fire, returning to Ridmark’s side.

  “No,” said Imaria. “It will not end that way. It is too soon. My mortality will not end until time unravels.” The mirrored eyes turned back towards Calliande. “But your mortality will end here.”

  Calliande cast a spell, hurling a shaft of white fire at Imaria. Imaria disappeared in a swirl of darkness, and the shaft of fire lashed across the broken wall. Shadows writhed before the doors, and Imaria reappeared before them.

  But this time, she was not alone.

  Three men knelt on the ground before her. All three were naked, and chains of shadow bound their necks and their wrists. Cuts and scratches marked their bodies, and they looked gaunt and starved, their skin matted with dirt and dried blood. Ridmark knew those men. They had been knights in Tarrabus Carhaine’s household, and that meant they had been part of the Enlightened of Incariel. Some of the Enlightened had escaped Tarlion after Tarrabus’s defeat.

  It seemed that they had not managed to escape Imaria.

  “Help us,” croaked one of the knights, “for the love of God, please…”

  Imaria twisted her wrist, and the knight fell silent, shadows welling from his mouth to wrap around his face like cords.

  “They gave themselves to Incariel,” said Imaria. “I am the bearer of Incariel’s shadow. They are mine to do with as I wish. And what I wish for them to do is to kill you.”

  “You might have to untie them first,” said Ridmark.

  Imaria smiled. “I do not.”

  Shadow burst from her armored hands, pouring into the three knights. They screamed into their gags, and the shadow poured into them like water draining into a sponge.

  “Calliande!” said Ridmark. “Stop…”

  She started casting a spell, but it was too late.

  The bodies of the Enlightened knights simply split apart, like a peapod crushed beneath an armored boot. Their flesh tore and ripped, blood pooling across the floor, and from within the torn flesh emerged…

  Ridmark didn’t know. He had never seen creatures like them before.

  They looked vaguely like mantises covered in gleaming black chitin, spikes jutting from their sides. They reminded Ridmark of the locusari warriors the Frostborn used as light infantry, but these creatures were larger and heavier. Shadows bled and flowed from their eyes and their bladed forelimbs, and glistening venom dripped from their snapping pincers.

  “Behold!” shouted Imaria. “The weakness of Incariel revealed! Kill them! Kill them both!”

  Calliande hurled a blast of white fire at Imaria, but the Shadowbearer vanished in a swirling pillar of darkness. The Keeper shifted her aim, sweeping the shaft of white fire across the ruined hall, raking the flames across the insect-creatures. They let out furious chittering noises, reeling away from the fire, but Calliande’s magic did not seem to harm them.

  The creatures surged forward, moving with terrible speed.

  “Defend yourselves!” said Ridmark, raising Caledhmaer.

  ###

  Calliande drew on the magic of the Well, fusing it with the power of the Keeper’s mantle, and started casting another spell.

  Ridmark ran forward, Caius on his left and Third on his right, the sword of the Dragon Knight trailing fire in his hand. The insect-creatures raced to the attack, focusing on him. Likely Imaria had told the creatures to kill him first.

  Calliande had no idea what the things were. Tymandain Shadowbearer had never done anything like this. Even during the climactic battle of the first war against the Frostborn all those years ago, when he had brought the full wrath of his power against her, he had not summoned creatures to aid him. Perhaps that was why he had been defeated. He had relied upon his own strength and no one else.

  Imaria, it seemed, would not make her predecessor’s mistake.

  Calliande didn’t know what the creatures were, but she had a good idea of what would hurt them, and she cast the spell.

  A wall of white light erupted from her staff, expanding to stretch across the entire hall. It rushed forward in a translucent wave, passing through Ridmark and Caius and Third without harming them. It swept across the three creatures, and white fire burst across their carapaces, the light sinking into them. The spell did little damage since its power had been spread across such a large area, but the insect-creatures reared back with pain, making ghastly chittering noises as they recovered their balance.

  In the space of their hesitation, Ridmark struck.

  The sword of the Dragon Knight did not grant him superhuman strength and speed as a soulblade would have done, but it hardly seemed necessary. The sword trailed a ribbon of fire as he attacked, and his blow took off one of the creature’s bladed forelimbs. It screamed in rage and lashed at him with its remaining forelimb, which proved to be a mistake. Ridmark snapped his sword up in guard, and the creature’s limb shattered against the blade. It screamed again, and this time Ridmark’s sword took its head from its shoulders.

  The insect-creature slumped to the floor, black slime pumping from its wounds.

  Third disappeared in the usual flash of blue fire. Calliande didn’t see where she went, but she could guess, because one of the creatures reared up in sudden pain. Before it recovered, Caius swung his heavy hammer, and he smashed the creature’s head like an egg. Black slime sprayed from the crushed head, and the insect-creature collapsed next to the one that Ridmark had killed.

  The final creature whirled, preparing to charge at Calliande. She hit it with the white fire of the Well of Tarlion and as much of the power of the Keeper’s mantle that she could infuse into one spell. The lance of white fire drilled through the creature and burst out its back to strike the wall, and the dark shape shuddered and fell to the ground.

  Silence fell over the ruins of Castra Marcaine once more, and Ridmark lowered his sword.

  The creatures were dead, yet Calliande still saw the shadow of Incariel writhing within the carcasses.

  She took a careful step forward, her magic held ready.

  ###

  “What were those things?” said Ridmark, Caledhmaer burning in his fist. The sword had been pleased to strike down the creatures, and he felt its savage joy. The soulblades blazed with fury when confronting things of dark magic, but Caledhmaer’s rage howled like the fiery furnace of Nebuchadnezzar of old.

  “I don’t know,” said Caius. “I have never seen such a creature, though they looked somewhat like the creatures of the lower Deeps.”

  “Improved urvaalgs, I presume,” said Third, shaking black slime from her blades as she joined them.

  “What do you mean?” said Ridmark.

  “They were members of the Enlightened of Incariel,” said Third. “We have seen before how the Enlightened were twisted into monsters by their connection to the shadow of Incariel. It seems that Imaria Shadowbearer has improved the process, and used it to force
an involuntary transformation in them.”

  “Weakness,” murmured Ridmark, remembering Imaria’s strange, riddling boasts. “She said that in her weakness she would rely more upon the shadow of Incariel. Maybe that means the shadow will give her powers that Tymandain or the Enlightened never possessed.”

  “I think it does,” said Calliande. She had the dreamy, unfocused expression that meant she was drawing heavily upon the Sight. “The shadow is still upon them. We…” Her blue eyes opened wide. “Get back! Get back! Something…”

  She did not need to warn them twice. Ridmark took several steps back, grabbing Calliande’s arm and pulling her along. Both Caius and Third moved back, weapons raised before them.

  As they did, shadows bled and writhed from the carcasses of the dead creatures. They swelled, emitting terrible crackling noises. Then the creatures split open, just as the doomed Enlightened knights had split apart when the insect-creatures had clawed their way free of their flesh.

  A different kind of knight arose from the carcasses of the slain creatures.

  Three armored figures strode from the split carapaces. Each one was seven feet tall, and armored from head to toe in a metal that looked as if it had been forged from solid shadow. The knights carried enormous two-handed greatswords, and masked helms concealed their faces, if indeed they possessed faces.

  The knights charged, and Ridmark ran to meet them, Caledhmaer snarling with rage in his fist. Despite their bulk, the knights were deadly quick, and Ridmark dodged around the sweep of a shadowy greatsword and parried the blow from another. The greatsword clanged against Caledhmaer, the ancient sword’s fire seeping into the dark blade, but the knight retracted its blade before the fire could consume it.

  Third vanished and reappeared behind one of the knights, stabbing her blades with the precision of a surgeon. The knight flinched, though it showed no other sign of pain, and wrenched free of her weapons, turning to face her. Ridmark seized the opening and attacked, swinging Caledhmaer with both hands. The sword took off the knight’s head, and the armored body fell to the ground with a clang.