XXVIII

  Dark Signs

  Nerya’s workshop was a standalone shed near the main hall. Levi walked past the multitude of benches and tools he couldn’t name. Golems of all shapes in various states hung from the wall, which was why Levi had expected the shed to be cold, but the temperature was pleasant.

  ‘How are you keeping them from melting?’ Levi said.

  Ice magic conjured real ice, so it was bound to fall prey to the elements eventually.

  ‘All of them are inscribed with a formation,’ Nerya said. Her spider golem lifted its broken brethren onto a platform beside a sturdy table that seemed carved from a slab of metal. Nerya pressed a button, and the platform rose into the air to the sound of a strange whirring.

  Levi’s nose was glued to the platform. It doesn’t seem to be using magic, he thought.

  ‘I designed the equipment myself.’

  He glanced back at her. ‘I don’t sense a rune or magic of any kind.’ Though he must also admit he wasn’t the best at sensing mana.

  Nerya smiled. ‘Because it doesn’t. It’s a mechanical device. And before you ask me—it’s a trade secret.’

  Levi huffed. Sad, but he could accept that.

  ‘Do you do all the repairs yourself?’ he said, searching for another topic. ‘Seems a lot of work for a single person.’

  ‘It is. I used to work the shop with my mother, but other duties have been occupying her time lately.’

  ‘No else can help?’

  ‘They’re not capable enough,’ she said. ‘Most members of our clan can operate a golem and use their abilities to excavate the quarry, but repair is more technical.’

  He hummed. So Nerya was the core of her clan’s workforce. The resemblance to Sepharin brought a wry smile to his face. He returned to his chair in what he assumed was the reception area (though it was all in a single room) and sipped from his tea. The blend had this exquisite frosty taste despite being warm.

  Repairing the leg didn’t take long. Nerya’s power flashed, and already the golem could walk again. She then pulled out a hammer-like tool and hit the golem in various places.

  ‘Not good,’ she murmured, donned a grey work apron, and put on a mask that fitted over her head with a strap.

  ‘Something the matter?’ Levi said.

  The girl started like she’d forgotten he was here. She coughed in her palm. ‘It’s integrity is damaged. They’re minor cracks, but they’ll lead to the same result as earlier today, so it’s better for me to fix it right away. I’m afraid this will take a while.’

  ‘My next meeting with your father isn’t until evening,’ Levi said. ‘I’ll remain if you don’t mind my presence.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  Levi read his tome in the meantime. He would periodically look up from his book in need for a break and watch Nerya work, but the changes were happening internally, so there wasn’t much to see.

  He was strolling through the workshop when he passed the painting of an older, white-haired woman he’d seen a few times now. Leaning on a cane, she stood in front of a small cave entrance. The snowfall worsened the sight, but the two golems at her side were unmistakable.

  ‘That’s Circe, my mentor.’ Nerya had taken off her mask but still wore her apron.

  Levi accepted the cup of tea she handed him.

  ‘My bets were on it being your grandmother.’ Levi regarded the painting. The eyes were so life-like, he thought. As if he was looking at her in the flesh. ‘She appears…formidable,’ he said, using someone else’s term.

  Nerya chuckled. ‘She was the strongest frost-user our clan had seen in centuries.’

  Levi tipped his chin. ‘Is she—’ though he thought for a moment, there wasn’t any better way to ask ‘—resting peacefully?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Nerya gazed wistfully upon the painting. ‘She left the clan after my mentorship finished. Knowing her, she’s cultivating in a cave somewhere, contemplating the nature of our frozen element. Or maybe she’s “resting peacefully,” as you so eloquently described.’

  Levi’s cheeks reddened. ‘Let us hope so if that’s the case.’

  Their conversation continued onto more minor subjects. Nerya, having never left Winterforge, was interested in the outside world. Were the cities truly as big as they said they were? What was life in a Temple like? Was it true that there was a frozen wasteland south of the Duchy, and had he ever been there? Levi had a response for everything, though his answers were not all satisfactory, given his lack of personal experience. He also queried her in return, and all in all, they must’ve spent most of two hours together until it was finally time for him to leave.

  ‘I enjoyed our talk, Lady Nerya.’ Levi smiled. ‘I would not be adverse to another conversation.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be adverse to it either.’ She thought for a moment. ‘The quarry at night is a sight to see. We can visit it tomorrow evening, should it interest you.’

  ‘I thought the village closed at night?’

  She waved him away. ‘I have my ways.’

  ‘Then I will take you up on the offer. Where should I gather?’

  She gave him the location.

  They would reach the meeting point tonight.

  Malakai had discarded his guard armour for a simple coat, and he pulled the cloak around him.

  Beside him, bandits trudged through the snow, heads low. Some clutched their arms, others their legs. Wraith’s technique had been undone quick enough for the frostbite not to sink its ugly teeth into their flesh, yet their limbs hung on by a thread. It didn’t help that they had survived two encounters with eldritch creatures twice in quick succession.

  Rider seemed perfectly fine, but then the guard was made of metal.

  ‘Are we really going to be alright?’ Malakai heard a lady whisper.

  The ladies were still with the caravan as well. Leaving them with the other half of the frostguard party was an option, but the Warden had thought their story would be more convincing this way. She was right, of course. But it still meant the women had to keep travelling through the frost when they could’ve been on their way to the castle.

  Well, at the moment they aren’t safer anywhere than with me.

  Sarah echoed that sentiment to the other girl, reminding her of what the “creature” had done. That quelled all worry, and Malakai turned his attention to the bandits again. They were so beat up they weren’t even mumbling amongst themselves. That won’t do us any good, Malakai thought.

  ‘We should rest,’ he spoke into the frigid air.

  ‘Rest?’ Gerald said. ‘We need to get out of this weather!’

  Malakai’s words riled up the entirety of the small number of bandits the Warden had released, for rage was the sole thing they had left in their tank.

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  ‘Up your pace if you want to get out of here,’ Rider said.

  The ire of the bandits turned his way, but the stocky frostguard’s face was as tight as his defence, and the bandits deflated before long, returning to the low vibration they had been riding before Malakai had spoken up.

  They ended up calling for a break after all as Malakai didn’t want to deal with corpses more than necessary. There was no talking, and everyone practically embraced the campfire. They began moving again soon after.

  As foretold, they reached the meeting point that night.

  The Weeping Lake had an area of around four thousand square kilometres, which made it the largest lake in the Duchy and perhaps the entire North. It was called such for the wails which could be heard all-year round as the mountain winds travelled down and swooped over the lake. The weeping was stronger during the winter. Some claimed the cries belonged to a banshee who hated the cold. Others explained it as a phenomenon of nature. Either way, located on the northern end of the lake, was a hamlet. The hamlet’s primary source of sustenance was the lake, and the inhabitants were experts at fishing in frozen water, which was a highly valued skill in the Duchy.

  Too bad the villagers saw none of those profits themselves, Malakai thought, noticing the armed men standing outside the village gates.

  ‘Halt!’ they called.

  Torches went up and hoods went down as Malakai’s party came to a standstill.

  ‘We’re—we’re caravan seven,’ Gerald said through chattering teeth. ‘Please, let us in. We need warmth.’

  ‘You will stay where you are until we finish verifying your identity,’ a bandit said.

  Malakai shook his head but remained quiet. This part was crucial. If they were discovered here, it was all for nothing.

  Just then, one of the bandits at the gate moved forwards wit ha list in hand.

  Malakai’s eyes widened. They had a list? He turned, caught Rider looking, and the two shared a nod. They would pull the trigger if it came to it.

  The bandit stopped in front of Gerald. ‘Name?’

  ‘Gerald Fritz.’

  ‘That Gerald?’ He looked up and Gerald nodded. The bandit tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Harris,’ the bandit introduced himself. ‘Good to have you back.’

  ‘Thanks, kid,’ Gerald said to the much younger-looking bandit.

  Harris passed the bandits one-by-one, asking their name and cross-referencing it with the list. Then he arrived.

  ‘And you are?’ Harris asked, walking up, inspecting his list.

  Malakai stopped a frown. What to say? A generic name that had a higher chance of being on the list? But the gig would be up if he answered wrong. It’ll be up if you don’t answer either. This was it, then. His fingers edged towards his pouch as he pronounced the name on his lips, and beside him, Rider’s hand edged to his blade. ‘To—’

  ‘Those are Tom and Hank,’ Gerald said.

  Malakai’s eyes glued themselves to the caravan leader.

  ‘They’re newly initiated,’ Gerald continued. ‘Recruited them from one of the villages after we lost most of our party. Same for the women.’

  Harris looked up from his list to Malakai to Rider. ‘Tom and Hank,’ he repeated.

  The two frostguards nodded.

  ‘So Grunt A and Grunt B,’ the bandit huffed. He glanced at the women. ‘I’m not explaining all of this to the boss, so you’ll have to register them yourself, Gerald.’

  ‘Will do, Harris,’ Gerald said.

  The bandits, the ones on Malakai’s side, eyed each other from the corner of their eye but said nothing.

  And so it was that their caravan passed into the hamlet.

  Malakai quickened his step to reach Gerald’s side. His mouth opened.

  ‘Don’t even ask,’ the bandit leader snarled, whispering under his breath.

  Malakai’s mouth shut.

  ‘Do me a favour.’ Gerald’s sunken eyes bored through Malakai. ‘You keep yourself and that abomination far away from me. Do that, and I’ll consider it all even.’

  A moment of silence.

  Malakai nodded and turned back around.

  They left their wagons near a barn, where more wagons were stored. From the numbers, Malakai guessed two more caravans had made their way here. After dropping their load, a woman approached their party. She was clad in black fur from head to toe and wore a masked idol around her neck. She was a foreigner, and Malakai thought she resembled the representative he had seen in Frostmouth. Somewhat. He wasn’t a great judge when it came to outsiders.

  Gerald and the foreigner had a short conversation after which she said: ‘The women with me,’ in a tone that conveyed she expected to be obeyed.

  And perhaps she should. The other bandits gave her a wide berth.

  ‘We won’t be far,’ Malakai whispered in Sarah’s ear as the girl passed him. She nodded, then was gone with the others.

  ‘What about us?’ Rider said, directing his question at Gerald.

  ‘Here’s your first lesson as a bandit, rookie,’ the bandit leader said. ‘Bandits that don’t make themselves useful end up in the snow. Imagine the rest yourself. I’m cuddling next to a hearth.’ Then he, too, walked off with the other bandits, leaving Malakai and Rider by themselves.

  ‘You think they’re going to out us?’ Malakai asked, watching their backs disappear around the corner.

  ‘You seen their faces? I don’t think they’d talk if they saw you dead.’

  True.

  ‘So what now?’ Malakai said.

  ‘You heard him. We’ll play the “eager rookie” and ask the veterans what we can do.’ Rider smiled. ‘You were an estate guard, right? You ever done grunt work? Shovel shit out of the latrine pit?’

  Malakai hadn’t been smiling, but his face positively turned upside down.

  Rider laughed and started in the direction of the hamlet centre.

  An oil lamp on my desk to stave away the dark, I browsed through the last of the books I had the maid bring me, a compendium highlighting the history of the Duchy. I sifted to an entry related to the Western Mountains…and found nothing of interest. At least, not of interest to me. The book spoke of the environment and wildlife, highlighting which species had migrated from and to the mountain over the centuries. It pointedly did not mention underground passages and rooms. But then I supposed the room wasn’t exactly man-made.

  Where could the alpha have disappeared to? I had no answer. Neither did I have a clue to where the orcs went. There wasn’t a single trace of them on the mountain, so logic would suggest they were hiding inside. And there were signs that the orcs were in hiding. The alpha’s pack coming down the mountain would be a direct result of the orcs, and the lack of available game pointed to them hunting down the animals for sustenance. The problem was that there were no…wait. We tracked the alpha back to its layer. A layer which Leah designated as the orc’s return point. If the orcs had pushed the alpha out, why would the wolf return there? For a rematch? To reclaim its lost dominion? I thought back to the deceased Frostfang wolves. They had been infected with demonic taint, their organs destroyed during the affliction.

  …

  No, I corrected. Not destroyed.

  Used, was the term I was searching for.

  The magic of demons, true demons, was sinister. More sinister perhaps than my own. They had multiple schools of magic, but one of the schools whose effect was clearly visible on organs was blood magic. After infecting their prey with their own blood, demons could rip the unfortunate target apart from the inside. Crucially, they could also utilise their blood to control their victims. It was a nasty school to go up against (the frostguards would definitely suffer losses fighting them), but it was perhaps the best case scenario: though there wasn’t a single kind of demon I hadn’t ultimately beat during my reign as Silent Empress, I was the natural counter of blood demons. Their magic didn’t work on undead.

  ‘Blood,’ I whispered, my voice swimming into the dark beyond my desk. Their presence would make the abduction of our citizens more sensible.

  I exhaled. ‘What a nuisance.’

  Blood demons were an invasive species that hunted anything outside of themselves, even demons of other races. I was not looking forward to exterminating their kind a second time.

  Still, if we were dealing with blood demons, that may be the key to the chamber. There were a multitude of options to how the entrance could be uncovered if so, but the demons of this realm may not be the same as my own. I needed a second opinion.

  After taking control of the undead near Leah’s sleeping chambers, I found she wasn’t inside. Huh, I thought. Was she out inspecting one of the runes?

  I’d see tomorrow.

  A moment passed, and another idea popped into my head. I wrote a letter and called for my squire, who was standing guard outside the door. I pushed the location into his mind, and the undead was off, riding his steed into the dark of night.

  Neither rider nor mount needed rest, so I expected the undead would make it there in the morning. Now I just had to wait for an answer from the master magus.

  The answer to my letter came the next afternoon.

  I had focused my expanding network of dead towards the Giantswood and the mountains, leaving me with almost none in the direction of Frostmourne. Thus, the squire was left with only his orders to go to a certain location, hand over a letter to whoever received him, and return with whatever he got in response.

  He returned not only with an old, weary tome, but also a crystal ball whose purpose was immediately apparent.

  My miasma fused into the stone, the surface swirled like a cloud, and moments later, a face I hadn’t seen for some time was visible in the crystal ball.

  ‘Xun, it is good to see you again,’ I said.

  The highblood magus smiled, his golden hair and robes in mint condition. ‘You as well, Lady Vrost.’ The crystal muffled his voice but it was clear enough.

  ‘Did my letter find you well?’

  ‘It surprised me greatly,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s not every day an undead delivers you mail. Your range and mastery of the dead are improving.’

  ‘In part due to your gifts,’ I said. ‘Your pupil is also of aid.’ Sometimes, I didn’t add. But his eyes said he knew what I was thinking.

  ‘Where is the young bird now? Perhaps this old mage can delight her with his presence.’

  ‘In Winterforge with my brother.’

  He let out a noise of surprise, but his facial expression didn’t change in the slightest. I hummed. Had he expected them to go there?

  He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t certain of the location, but I had my suspicions’.

  ‘Suspicions?’

  ‘Yes. The energy flows around the mountain are quite weak, making the energy is easier to tap into and direct.’

  ‘Perfect for a summoning,’ I added, gaze narrowing.

  ‘Exactly.’

  My hand cupped my chin. ‘Is there a reason for this weakness?’

  ‘Nothing concrete besides myths,’ the magus said.

  I eyed him and he snorted.

  ‘Tales of the mountain being a living spirit, or a prison, amongst other things. Both would explain the lack of natural energy—the spirit uses the energy and the prison keeps it in—however, I’m certain you can see the issue with those theories.’

  ‘The mountain being alive is one thing,’ I said, ‘but we did find an underground chamber.’

  Xun didn’t take my remark as a quip. ‘An underground chamber you say?’

  I told him what we had found.

  ‘Interesting,’ he said. His attention turned from me, and the magus flew down a set of stairs to his study. ‘I remember reading about an underground chamber near the western mountains somewhere…’ dozens of pages flipped past in seconds, yet he could not find whatever he was looking for.

  ‘I’ll return to you,’ he said, still searching through the books. ‘Read the tome I sent you in the meantime, it may be of some use.’

  And so I left the magus to his own devices.

  I wasn’t placing my hopes on him alone, for I had theories of my own. We’d take another crack at the chamber early in the morning tomorrow.