The Elder Shamans Page 4

  “Take her and go,” said Ridmark to Marcomer, and then he straightened up from his crouch, walking to the stairs leading down the courtyard.

  The Jeweler remained motionless, still leaning on his staff. As he drew closer, Ridmark saw the corruption spreading through the Jeweler’s flesh, accompanied by a foul smell rising from the bejeweled robe.

  “Jeweler!” thundered Ridmark, stopping at the base of the stairs.

  The Jeweler stirred, and the black eyes shifted to Ridmark.

  “A human.” Surprise entered the deep voice. “I did not think any of your kindred had come this far east.”

  “The Frostborn are returning,” said Ridmark.

  The Jeweler inclined his head. “The alignment shall soon be correct.”

  Alignment? What did that mean?

  “Tell me how they shall return,” said Ridmark.

  The Jeweler stared at him, the soulstones worked into his staff glimmering. “Why?”

  “Once before the Frostborn nearly conquered our world,” said Ridmark. “I seek to stop them. Tell me how they shall return, and I shall depart.”

  The Jeweler said nothing for a moment. It was impossible to read that alien face, but Ridmark had the overwhelming impression that the dark elven sorcerer was baffled.

  “What madness drives you?” said the Jeweler. “My citadel is far from any human lands. The journey should have killed you a thousand times over, but you are standing here before me. That should not be possible.” He laughed. “What a fool you are, human. You have piqued my curiosity…and that is to your woe. Your death shall take a thousand times longer than it would have otherwise.”

  The Jeweler cast a spell, and his will hammered into Ridmark’s mind.

  Ridmark screamed in pain, stumbling back as he felt the Jeweler’s thoughts digging into his skull, sorting through his memories. Visions of his past flashed before his eyes. He saw again his childhood at Castra Taliand, his time as a page and a squire in Dux Gareth’s court at Castra Marcaine. He saw himself become a Swordbearer, his desperate battle with Gothalinzur, his quest to Urd Morlemoch and escape from the Warden.

  “You.” The Jeweler’s voice thundered inside his skull, filling him with agony. “The Warden has marked you. Fool! You are his puppet, and you know it not!”

  Ridmark saw again the terrible battle at Dun Licinia, saw the dead Mhalekites carpeting the valley.

  And once more he saw Aelia’s blood spreading across the black and white tiles of Castra Marcaine’s great hall. He had failed her. He deserved death, he…

  “Fear not,” said the Jeweler. “That shall come for you soon enough. Let us see the shadows of your future.”

  The pain in his skull redoubled, again and again, until it seemed as if the entire world had been built of pain. His sight blurred, and he saw his past spread out before him like a series of pages upon a table.

  The Jeweler’s vision turned towards the pages of his future, and Ridmark’s sight went with him.

  Visions flashed through his mind, blurry and distorted.

  He saw blue fire filling the sky.

  An orcish warrior in blue armor, and a dwarf in a brown robe.

  A soulblade burning in the hands of a terrified boy, urvaalgs racing towards him.

  A gate of made of fire crackling between two menhirs of black stone.

  A terrible war that ripped the world apart, warriors in icy armor smashing through the ranks of Andomhaim…

  “No,” said the Jeweler. “No! It is not possible!”

  The vision strained forward, and Ridmark felt blood trickling from his nose. He tried to move, tried to fight, tried to move, but he could barely stay on his feet.

  Then he saw the women in the shadows of his future.

  There were two of them, one with golden hair, and one with black hair. Ridmark felt as if he knew both of them, knew both of them so very well, yet he had seen neither woman before.

  “You are the one,” rasped the Jeweler. “It is your path that will decide the destiny of the world! And you have delivered yourself into my power!” Blue fire twisted and snarled around his free hand. “When I strike you down, the Frostborn will return, and the world shall perish. A just revenge for my torment! Let all the world perish!”

  The Jeweler pointed his hand at Ridmark, and he saw his death in the blue fire.

  Perhaps it was just as well. He had failed Aelia, and he could tell her how sorry he was, how very sorry…

  “Hai!”

  The deep voice boomed over the courtyard.

  The Jeweler looked up in surprise, and then a javelin buried itself in his chest. The dark elven wizard staggered with a grunt, and the javelin exploded in fire. The Jeweler’s robes went up in flame, and the dark elf stumbled with a scream of agony. A half-second later a brilliant flash of lightning struck the Jeweler and threw him into the white wall of the tower, the thunderclap filling Ridmark’s ears and the gale of hot wind throwing him back a step.

  The agony in his head vanished.

  “Ridmark!”

  He looked up and saw Ansa standing on the ramparts, the Gemstone of Storms in her hand.

  “Run!” she screamed.

  Ridmark did not need her to tell him twice.

  He turned and raced back up the stairs. Ansa and Marcomer waited for him, and then both halflings took off, running as fast as they could. Ridmark followed them as Marcomer led the way over the ramparts, the Jeweler’s outraged screams ringing in their ears. They raced across the courtyard, through the gate, and came to the wall of mist ringing the fortress.

  “Put your hands on my shoulders, and run when I say,” said Ansa, lifting the Gemstone of Mists from her pouch. Both Ridmark and Marcomer obeyed, and the world went gray and hazy once more.

  “Run!” shouted Ansa, and they sprinted into the mist. It washed past Ridmark in a cool wave, and then suddenly they were through it and back in the V-shaped valley. The world snapped back into focus as the Gemstone’s power ended, and Ridmark came to a stop, breathing hard.

  “The Jeweler might pursue us,” said Marcomer.

  But neither the Jeweler nor his undead minions emerged.

  ###

  “I think,” said Ridmark, “that the Jeweler might be bound to Urd Drysaar, just as the Warden is bound to Urd Morlemoch. He might not be able to pursue us.”

  Marcomer grunted. “Just as well. Marcomer did not want to fight all the legions of the undead.”

  They walked through the valley, heading back to the mountain path. Marcomer and Ansa would continue along the path, taking the high road through the Lion Mountains and to the Range, starting the long journey back to the jungles where the Hidden People made their home.

  “Do you remember anything of what he showed you?” said Ansa.

  “No,” said Ridmark.

  It was frustrating. He could remember nothing from when the Jeweler had cast his spell to when Marcomer’s javelin had struck the dark elf’s chest. He knew the dark elf had shown him something of the future, but he could not remember what.

  And Ridmark was not about to go back and ask the Jeweler. He did not care if death found him or not, but he would not throw away his life in futility.

  “I am sorry you came all this way for nothing,” said Ansa.

  “No,” said Ridmark. “Even the Jeweler thought the Frostborn will return. I just have to keep searching.” He looked at Marcomer. “I am sorry you lost your javelin.”

  Marcomer shrugged. “Ha! Do not worry, not-orc Ridmark. Marcomer wounded the Jeweler himself with his javelin. It shall make a fine story to tell at Marcomer’s wedding to betrothed-Ansa.”

  “What will you do?” said Ansa.

  “I will keep looking,” said Ridmark. “The Frostborn are returning. I need to find the secret.”

  Ansa gave him a sad smile. “I hope you find what you are really looking for.”

  Ridmark said nothing. He knew what she meant. But he would not find forgiveness for Aelia’s death in the Wilderland.

/>   But he might discover the secret of the return of the Frostborn.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading THE ELDER SHAMANS. If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review at your ebook site of choice. To receive immediate notification of new releases, sign up for my newsletter, or watch for news on my Facebook page.

  Follow this link to read the next adventure for Ridmark and his companions in Frostborn: The Gray Knight.

  Other books by the author

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