XXXIII

  Dealing with the Devil

  The journey to Giantswood was a frightening and cold one.

  Malakai ignored the burn near his ankle and forced his eyes on the scenery. Stray and lone trees littered the planes, which turned into clusters of trees, not at all taller than what you would expect from a regular larch. But these were only infants that had spread from the nest, Malakai realised when the treeline started in full. Now, the larches rose so high you had to crane your neck one-hundred-and-eighty degrees to catch a hint of the top. But even more strangely, these trees had leaves.

  ‘Ya first time seein’ the woods?’

  Malakai was sitting next to the driver of the wagon, a plump, older man named Nikolai.

  ‘I thought them tall tales,’ Malakai said.

  Nikolai chuckled. ‘Dey’re tall, alrite.’

  A compulsory smile from Malakai, who turned his attention to the woods again. The trees were still rising in height. He looked back down at the meandering path they were following. Who could’ve cleared—

  ‘—it’s giants, I tell ya.’

  Malakai tried to recall what Nikolai had said. ‘Giants?’

  ‘Ya, giants. Came down the mountains further west.’

  ‘You think the legends are true then?’ Malakai said.

  ‘What legends, kiddo?’

  ‘Of House Vrost.’

  A sly grin flickered across the bandit’s lips. ‘Ya ever seen a Vrost?’

  Malakai paused. ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I have. Daddy Vrost imself’, riding is’ horse through ma village.’ The bandit looked out into the shadows between the rising trees. ‘Dey’re true, I tell ya.’

  They rode the rest of the way in silence. Their target was a small settlement near the outer ring of the woods. There, Malakai would find the goal of his journey.

  The forest passed them by with all the speed of a lumbering giant, and slowly the trees grew less dense until they reached a clearing. A weathered sign on the side of the road read: Camp Tauron. The name had no meaning, as far as Nikolai knew.

  Multiple cabins and tents littered the camp grounds. Another caravan wagon was already present, its members just now dismounting. Malakai jumped off the wagon before it came to a stop and ran forward. He clasped Rider’s arm and slapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Glad to see you whole,’ Malakai said.

  ‘As am I. You gave me quite the shock back there.’

  ‘Gave “us”,’ Sarah corrected, joining them and not looking happy.

  Rider pulled a face and quickly backed off.

  ‘Can you be more careful with your life?’ she scolded Malakai. ‘We’re all counting on you, here,’ she added in a whisper.

  ‘It was a split-second decision,’ he said. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  ‘I would hope so,’ she said.

  The wagon Malakai had saved parked and its members got off. The three quieted when Nikolai and some of the other bandits approached.

  ‘Thanks again for saving us, kiddo,’ Nikolai said.

  ‘Was the least I could do,’ Malakai said. ‘A novice has to earn his stay, eh?’

  That elicited a smile from the man. He was about to say something else when the entrance to one of the larger cabins flung open and a unit of a man walked out carrying a lantern.

  ‘I’m never one to break up camaraderie,’ he said. ‘But how about you start telling me why you’re here?’

  Malakai waited for one of them to step up and speak. No one did.

  Nikolai tapped him on the shoulder. ‘This rookie will tell ya, boss.’

  Boss, Malakai thought, studying the man’s partially shadowed face. He had the gruff look of someone who was in charge.

  Malakai stepped forwards—

  ‘Hammond, don’t be obtuse!’

  Malakai turned towards a woman wearing an indoor robe standing in the entrance of the same cabin Hammond exited.

  ‘They must be tired and cold,’ she said. ‘Grilling them can wait until tomorrow.’

  The big man glared at the woman. She wasn’t moved. Hammond turned around in a gesture akin to admitting defeat, and said: ‘Anyone badly injured? Else I’ll wake up Ellen.’

  Many stepped up. Malakai rubbed the back of his ankle. They’d tied a torn cloth around it as an emergency stopgap, but he was afraid of an infection—the wagon wasn’t the cleanest. Which was why he decided to visit this Ellen. She was a priest, it turned out, and quickly healed his injury. So quick that Malakai could help the others unload their hastily packed belongings. He took over a heavy bag from Gerald covered in a cloak.

  ‘What is this?’ Malakai said. It felt like—

  ‘My men,’ came the curt response.

  Malakai peered into the shadows of the wagon. There were two more bodies; it seemed this last journey had finally been too much.

  They continued unloading with a word. After finishing, Malakai headed towards the kindled campfire in the centre of the camp.

  ‘You must be starving,’ the old lady from before said. She was stirring a pot held aloft over the fire with three, thick wooden staves.

  And indeed, his stomach rumbled not a second later as the vegetables and cuts of meat began to heat up, their aroma filling the air. The scent drew the other bandits like a flock of birds seeing scattered bread.

  The old lady smiled.

  Handed a bowl, Malakai sat down on a log, waiting patiently for his meal. His thoughts weren’t in the present.

  The second phase of the plan had already started.

  I strolled after the birdman, watching its cape billow in a non-existent breeze. Briefly, I had considered leaving instead of following the creature. Not an option. My chest had begun contracting as if a vise had gripped my lungs. The more I resisted the idea of listening to the spirit, the tighter the vise squeezed.

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  This is a blood oath. Someone in Sepharin’s past, this Morgathis, had formed a pact with this spirit or its ancestors that required me to do as it asked. I didn’t think it was as simple as that it could order me around—no one would be crazy enough to write that into a pact (unless they didn’t care about their offspring). More likely was that I had an obligation to listen to whatever it wanted to tell me.

  And that obligation involved following it towards the centre of the Weeping Lake.

  ‘Are we entering the water?’ I said after the spirit began using the claws on its feet to break a hole in the frozen surface water.

  It did not answer and lowered itself after making the pit big enough.

  ‘Who says I know how to swim?’ I said, also lowering myself into the lake.

  There wasn’t any light, but the spirit glowed in the dark. As we swam, the water thrummed like it was alive…my head swivelled to the side. There was something in here. It stayed just out of reach of my senses and the spirit’s light, watching.

  If the spirit noticed, he did not care. He guided us towards a particularly dark spot on the lake floor. His hands formed a sign, and he chanted something, the words not reaching me through the water. The floor shifted, revealing a tunnel just big enough for Wraith to fit through.

  The birdman went inside.

  We swam for a while. We swam so long I had to reroute undead in my network to make sure I could remain in command of Wraith. Luckily, the tunnel wasn’t going down, or else I would’ve still lost control.

  The tunnel ended in a small pool with an island in the middle. Breaking the surface, water cleared from my vision, and I was greeted with numerous stalagmites and stalactites. These were not the ordinary kind, though. They were made of ice.

  ‘You are faster on land, yes?’ the spirit said without turning towards me. ‘Do not fall behind.’

  He ran before I could respond. I rolled my eyes—spirits these days lacked the proper respect for an Empress—and rushed after him.

  The cavern was connected to a cave system, and we followed a path leading deeper inside. As we travelled, the ice subsumed more of the environment. Unnatural pillars jutting from the earth grew into the walls, making up whole parts of it until they were the wall and floor itself, forcing me to enchant my feet so I didn’t slip.

  Light poured from an exit ahead and the spirit slowed, coming to a stop at the edge. Beyond was another cavern. One that was a lot bigger than the first. What drew the eye immediately, was a frozen throne near the rear of the chamber. The throne was solemn. And big. Bigger than any human had a use for. I surveyed the room. A glowing current flowed along both sides of the room, the water shimmering in different hues of the rainbow. I jumped down and approached, trailing a finger through the surface. The water changed at my touch, going from viscous to liquid—

  ‘Fascinating, isn’t it?’

  I looked up. The voice was not that of the birdman.

  Between the gaps in the pillars of ice, I saw a hooded man standing next to the throne. The spirit was nowhere to be found.

  I rose, turning away from the river. ‘Do you know of it?’

  ‘It’s called Warp,’ the man answered. ‘Named after its warping constitution upon touch.’

  Edging closer, I noticed that the man was not a man at all. Not in the physical sense, at least. The shadows curtaining his face left none of his features visible, yet I could tell from his presence: this was a shade or shimmer, a projection. The ability to cast such a spell should be rare.

  ‘I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced,’ I said.

  ‘So it is,’ he said. ‘You may call me Moonwalker, Sepharin of Vrost.’

  I cleared the pillars and saw him fully. The shimmer was tall and slim. The mana stirring within was potent, but contained. My sight honed in on his lower body. Had he been injured?

  ‘Did the spirit tell you why I requested this meeting?’

  ‘Besides a request to follow him, he said little.’

  The shimmer sighed. ‘I feared so. To keep it simple, Warden, I want to speak to you of your kingdom.’

  My brow rose. ‘My kingdom?’

  ‘Yes.’ He strolled past and around the throne, fading from vision for a few moments before reappearing on the other side. ‘Of this frozen land they called the Crown of the North in ages past.’

  I waited.

  ‘You are no doubt aware of recent events,’ he said.

  ‘There are too many to name. Which are you referencing?’

  ‘All of them,’ he chuckled. ‘Runes. Portals. Orcs…demons.’

  I joined his little circling act of the throne, losing vision of him intermittently as we walked on opposite ends. ‘What about them?’

  He stopped and smiled. ‘I would bring to your attention that I orchestrated all of it.’

  A pause to let his words sink in.

  So here is our mystery magus, I thought. When I continued circling without saying anything, he tilted his head.

  ‘I expected a fiercer reaction.’

  ‘Then you judged me wrong.’

  His wide smile returned, allowing me a glimpse of what was underneath the shadowed cowl. ‘I’m glad. Dealing with a level-headed individual makes this next part a lot easier. I have an offer for you.’

  ‘An offer?’

  He nodded. ‘I dislike needless bloodshed and violence, you see.’

  ‘I couldn’t tell, but I’ll take your word for it.’

  He chuckled and spoke his next words slowly.

  ‘Abandon the Duchy,’ he said. ‘Take your people, your soldiers, and retreat to the eastern half of your territory. Do so, and I promise we will not kill a single one of yours, nor come within miles of your remaining domain.’

  I blinked. ‘You want me to give you half of my lands so you won’t bother me in return?’

  ‘In short terms, yes.’

  My forehead must’ve been a maze, for he continued: ‘The contract will be settled in blood. All of my soldiers will also swear the oath.’

  That would give some sense of guarantee, I supposed.

  ‘Given you came to me with this ridiculous offer,’ I said, ‘I take it you have an accompanying threat?’

  A hint of appreciation entered his eyes. ‘The attacks you suffered till now were but a test run.’ He vanished behind the throne and spoke: ‘Worse is to come.’

  Possibilities raced through my head. Most of the villages had retreated towards Frostmouth but there were still some that hadn’t…even if I turned the apprentice into a Fledgling, it wouldn’t be enough to defend the entirety of the west, let alone the other cardinal directions. But I didn’t need to do it myself, did I? We had the frostguards for exactly that reason. The question was: Did we have the numbers to weather whatever the magus had in store?

  My silence was mistaken for hesitation.

  ‘I have one more thing to sweeten the deal,’ Moonwalker said, and his shimmer caressed the throne’s armrest.

  ‘Morgathis the Dread,’ he pronounced. The name weighed heavy in the still air of the chamber. ‘Does the name mean anything to you?’

  ‘One of my ancestors,’ I soft-bluffed my way through. ‘How do you know of her?’ And here I feigned apprehension.

  He snickered. ‘I was there when her undead yet swallowed kingdoms, girl. Do not belittle me.’

  My gaze narrowed. Undead? I had been under the impression the ancestor was from the Vrost clan.

  ‘What of her?’ I said.

  His hand extended, and a pane appeared above his hand showing an x marked on a map. ‘I have the location of her resting place. I suppose you know what that means for a necromancer like yourself.’

  I stilled. Any half-decent necromancer would order their strongest summons to protect their burial site; I was a perfect example. Should I find this location, I would be able to take command of any dead remaining within the tomb. Not only that, but I could even revive Morgathis depending on the state she entered her final rest. That was without mentioning any items, trinkets, and loot I could use to strengthen not only myself but my entire army. Should the tomb truly be real, I could literally leave the Duchy behind and start anew, forging an undead empire from scratch. And then some years down the line, I would be strong enough to conquer the entire Duchy again, no matter who the magus put against me.

  ‘What do you think?’ Moonwalker said. ‘Not a bad deal, is it?’

  ‘It’s not bad at all,’ I whispered.

  He waited for me to make up my mind.

  But to be honest, no matter what he had offered, my mind had been made up from the start. If I abandoned the west, the refugees would pour into the eastern half of our kingdom, burdening the already sparse lands and balance that kept our Duchy afloat. Losing half our farm fields would see half our people starve to death. And what about the opinion of the nobility or my family, who would agree to losing their property to demons?

  My title as Warden wouldn’t survive the repercussion of such a choice. I would not either.

  However, trumping anything, was the fact that the enemy wanted it. I didn’t know what there was to find in the west he was willing to wage a war over, but he sure as hell wasn’t getting it.

  ‘I’ll have to refuse,’ I said.

  He hummed. ‘I thought the ruin would convince you for certain.’

  Now it was my turn to smile. ‘I’ve been told I am a greedy Empress, one that doesn’t know how to let things go.’

  ‘That greed will be your undoing.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I can promise you this, Moonwalker:’ I peered through the darkness shrouding his face and found his eyes. ‘You won’t find anything but Death in my lands. Every step of the way.’

  A moment of silence.

  He turned away. ‘I doubt I will see you on the battlefield, Warden. Do make this interesting.’ His figure began to fade. Before he vanished, he turned around, rubbing his chin, and asked: ‘Have you seen your mage, lately?’

  Then he was gone.

  I frowned as I still had not heard anything from her. Was Leah in trouble? I whirled around and begun to make my way back when I almost bumped into the spirit from before.

  He was just standing and staring at me.

  ‘If you have anything to say,’ I said, ‘do so quickly. I’m in a hurry.’

  I was interested in hearing more about this “pact” and my ancestor, but there was no time. The magus could strike tonight, for all I knew.

  And though the spirit’s face contorted, he did not tarry.

  ‘Why did you refuse?’ He glanced to where the magus had been before. ‘That mage is powerful. You…’ The shudder passing through him might be a huff. ‘Your chances are slim.’

  ‘I’ve conquered worse,’ I said, stepping past him.

  He wasn’t satisfied with that answer, I could tell. I sighed. ‘I’m the Warden. The Frost Warden. It is my duty to uphold the lives of the people, and even spirits like yourself, that reside here—no matter the odds. That’s all.’

  The spirit regarded me in silence.

  It didn’t look like he was going to speak, so I headed towards the exit.

  ‘There’s an underground ruin in the centre of Giantswood,’ he said. ‘It will be of use to you.’

  [Side Quest Initiated: Find the Ruin in Giantswood. Reward: A Fragment of the Past]

  I paused in my steps. ‘My thanks, spirit.’

  ‘The name’s Arthek,’ he said. Then he, too, disappeared, leaving me by myself.

  My chin turned to the ceiling as I sensed for my other undead. Tonight would be busy.

  That, and I needed to have an important conversation with a certain elf.

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