The Cry of the Icemark

16



Thirrin, and her escort of soldiers and werewolves, had been traveling through the forest of dark pines for more than an hour. It had taken them all morning to ride down from the pass and reach the tree line, thousands of feet below, and when they’d finally ridden under the eaves of the forest, it had been with a sigh of relief. At least here they had some shelter from the bitterly cold wind that had begun to blow, but now the soldiers were getting nervous. All around them the forest echoed with strange noises. Sudden screeches and distant howling would burst out, then fall silent. Now and then a glittering grayness would form far off in the shadows and keep pace with them briefly before fading away like mist before the sun.

But there was no sun here in the forest. Thirrin caught only an occasional glimpse of the sky through the tightly packed branches, and what light there was seemed to emerge in an unhealthy glow from the snow that had somehow managed to find its way through the trees to the ground all around them. This place was nothing like the forest at home. There, the trees were alive with creatures that scampered along the branches and trunks in search of food. Even in the winter when most of the trees had shed their leaves, there was a sense of life at rest, and the many animals that hadn’t hibernated searched for nuts or hunted one another with an intensity made sharper by hunger. But here in this great pine forest where no tree slept through the cold months, there was only a sense of watchfulness. Even the howling and screeching that burst out here and there in the gloom seemed to have nothing to do with animal life. It was too cold, too removed from any need to communicate with other living things. Thirrin thought it sounded like sharp glittering knives being scratched over polished ice. She shivered, drew her cloak tighter about her, and stared as far ahead as the tightly packed trees would allow. The whole world seemed to have been smothered by the trunks and writhing roots and stiff needle-covered branches of these dark green-black trees.

At last they reached a clearing, and the soldiers almost ran forward to greet the space, but then checked their pace and stared. In the very center of the clearing, sitting on the broken trunk of a dead tree, was an enormous Snowy Owl. It stood at least three times taller than the white owls that lived on the northern snowfields of the Icemark, and its vivid blue eyes seemed alive with a sharp intelligence. The captain of the werewolves walked forward and saluted the creature, which stared at him, blinking slowly. A strange conversation followed as owl and wolfman snarled and hooted at each other, after which the captain saluted again and walked back across the clearing. He stood before Thirrin, but before he could speak, the owl spread its huge white wings and soared silently away, its brilliant form glowing in the gloom as it dwindled skyward over the trees.

“Their Vampiric Majesties sent their herald to greet you, Queen Thirrin Freer Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Wildcat of the North. They bid you as welcome as you deserve, and advise you to hurry, as the weather is closing in again and there will be snow before nightfall,” the captain said, slipping into the formal language of the court as he reported the owl’s message.

Thirrin turned to Oskan. “Is that right? Will there be snow?”

Oskan nodded. “In two hours or so.” He was the only one in the entire party of humans who seemed as relaxed as the werewolves in the dark forest.

“Then we must make haste. Captain, is there a more direct route to the Blood Palace?”

“No, Your Majesty. But if we hurry, we should be there before the snows, if the Witch’s Son is correct about the time.”

“The Witch’s Son is correct,” she answered, spurring her horse across the clearing.

After another hour of hard marching, the trees began to thin and eventually their ominous presence gave way to a wide sweeping hill that descended to a valley floor. By this time the clouds had gathered, rolling and iron gray, and the light had diminished to a strange dim glow that seemed to pulse from the unbroken sweep of snow. But at least the freezing wind had dropped, and the escort crunched over the frozen land without having to unpack extra layers of clothing.

The last fitful light of the day soon faded to a deeply dark night. Thirrin ordered every second soldier to light their torch, and they continued on their way. But the werewolves didn’t seem to need any such aid in the darkness; their night vision was so acute that they led the way, finding a path in what seemed a trackless waste to the humans. After a while an excited growling and snarling broke out among the Wolffolk, and the captain appeared at Thirrin’s stirrup.

“Your Majesty, the Blood Palace.”

Thirrin stared ahead, following the line of his pointing finger, and there between a cleft in the distant hills she could just make out a looming shape, faintly outlined by twinkling lights.

“I see it,” she answered quietly as she fought down a sudden surge of fear that threatened to engulf her. “Oskan. Do you … feel anything?”

The Witch’s Son gazed ahead in silence for a few moments, then said, “Nothing unexpected: evil, great age, a hatred of mortal things.” He shrugged. “A typical nest of Vampires.”

Thirrin nodded. “No disaster, then? No sudden death?”

“Your dying lies elsewhere, Thirrin Lindenshield,” he answered simply.

She glanced at him sharply to see if any insult was intended with her pared-down name, then asked, “In glory?”

“Hidden,” he answered, and smiled.

“‘Hidden, Your Majesty,‘ “ she corrected with her usual fire, and Oskan’s smile turned to a wolfish grin.

They rode on with greater speed until the palace loomed before them. Even in the dark of the cloudy night, details were easy to make out, as every one of the hundreds of windows glowed with an eerie green light and torches were set in the walls and at regular intervals along the roofline. It soared from the land around it like a miniature mountain, its dozens of spires and towers silhouetted a deeper dark against the cloudy sky. The pointed arches of its windows and doors gathered in a tangle of architecture that seemed to have grown from the land like a stony and ill-disciplined fungus. But as Thirrin and her party drew closer, they realized that what they had thought was ordinary dark stone was, in fact, polished and of the deepest red in color — almost black, in fact, like dried blood.

The huge double doors stood open, and the greenish light spilled out onto the snow like a puddle of sticky liquid. Thirrin almost expected it to bubble and hiss like some fetid swamp water, but the illusion was destroyed when the leading werewolves stepped into it, and their huge shaggy shadows were thrown back toward her. Thirrin reined to a halt and signaled for her trumpeters to sound a fanfare. Up into the black night the brittle brassy notes soared, and after they had died away there was only silence.

For a few moments they sat and waited, then the predicted snows began to fall. In effect, their decision had been made for them. After scouting around they found a huge empty stable block where they left the horses, then they strode back to the front of the palace.

Everyone was waiting for Thirrin to make the first move, and knowing this, she immediately squared her shoulders and started to climb the flight of polished steps to the open doors. At the top a wide terrace swept up to the threshold of the high arched doorway. Above it, the walls towered like a cliff and the green glowing windows stared down at them like hating eyes. Thirrin took all of this in for a moment before walking confidently forward, all the time taking deep steadying breaths as she tried to control the fear and loathing that crawled screaming through her frame.

At the doorway she stopped and turned to Oskan, who was directly behind her. “I don’t suppose we can expect a welcoming committee after so many centuries of war.”

“No,” he agreed. “We’d better just go in and get out of the snow.”

She nodded and, after a pause, stepped through into an enormously high and wide hall. The black-and-white-tiled floor stretched away for a seemingly impossible distance, and everywhere was lit by the same green glow, even though there were no torches or lanterns or any other means of lighting as far as she could see.

The rest of the party followed, and soon the rattle of their boots and armor echoed across the empty space. In the dim distance at the far end of the hall, Thirrin could just make out a raised dais, and as they approached she realized that two thrones stood on it, each carved out of the same dark red stone. But still there was no sign of any other occupants in the entire palace, either living or dead.

Thirrin was just about to order her trumpeters to sound another fanfare when the green light flared to a dazzling brilliance, and the hall was filled with tall, pale, hissing figures that stared with large unblinking eyes. Immediately Thirrin’s soldiers threw up a shield-wall around her, their spears leveled.

Into the tense silence that settled over the hall a light and deadly cold voice said, “I’ve seen such battle formations before and know just how effective they are. I see you keep your troops as well drilled as your father ever did.”

Thirrin snapped an order, and the soldiers lowered their shields. She stepped through the hedge of spears that still bristled in their protective ring, and gazed in wonder at the dais, where two figures now sat on the red thrones. They, too, were pale and thin, and Thirrin could see that, even sitting down, they were tall. Once they had been a man and a woman, but now they had an unnatural and terrible beauty that made them completely un-human. Both had snowy white skin and their lips were deep red and moist, like raw liver.

“My father always impressed upon me the need for discipline and drill among the housecarls of the army. In that way, even mortals can face and fight the undead.”

The Vampire King and Queen gazed at her in silence and she continued. “But the need for allies when facing danger is equally great, and the chances of victory are increased many-fold when your friends stand with you.”

She stepped aside slightly, allowing Their Vampiric Majesties to appreciate fully what she knew they must have clearly seen. The werewolves had instinctively formed a circle of their own, enclosing the shield-wall of her soldiers and facing out in readiness to fight off any attack by the Vampires.

“You have no need to display your fighting prowess here,” the Vampire Queen said. “This is a palace, not a fortress. There are no soldiers here apart from your own.”

Thirrin nodded and gave another order. The spears were grounded, and the escort snapped to attention.

“I believe mortals feel the cold,” the Vampire King said, and casually cast a glance at the huge fireplace that stood halfway down the hall. Immediately flames belched out into the cold air, then settled down to burn steadily, quickly warming the atmosphere. Thirrin had never seen such a fireplace before. In Frostmarris, the Great Hall was warmed by a huge central hearth and the smoke found its own way out, eventually, through vents in the roof. But she had no intention of appearing a bumpkin to these cold and sophisticated creatures, so she merely nodded her thanks.

“Now, I believe this is a diplomatic visit. So shall we get down to business?” the King said, reminding Thirrin for a moment of Maggiore Totus. But this illusion was soon dispelled when she looked up and saw his sharply pointed teeth.

“Yes, by all means. I’ve come to warn you that the Icemark has been invaded by the Polypontian Empire, and my father has died in the act of destroying their army.”

“Oh, well done,” said the Queen. “You obviously don’t need our help, then, if you’ve already defeated them.”

“Unfortunately they still occupy the southern half of the Icemark, so come spring they’ll be able to send another army to attack us.”

“Which you will also destroy, I suppose.”

“Of course!” Thirrin answered with fire.

“Then I ask again, why do you seek our help if you so obviously can deal with anything the Polypontian Empire sends against you?”

Thirrin tried to hold the cold gaze of the Vampire Queen, but she suddenly became aware of the enormous weight of time and experience that lay in the horrendous depths of the Vampire’s icy blue eyes. This pale woman had existed for probably hundreds of years, murdering her way down the centuries and maintaining her inhuman nonlife with the blood of countless numbers of people. She was loathsome, hideous, and deeply evil, and Thirrin felt an overwhelming need to be away from the Blood Palace. To be anywhere but here in the sick green light, surrounded by these pale, undead courtiers.

“Well,” the Queen continued, “do you or do you not still say that you need our help?”

“Well, yes, we do,” Thirrin blurted out, afraid that her diplomatic mission had failed before it had properly begun. “We’ve destroyed one army, but they’ll send another…. That’s how they fight, they just keep coming…. They won’t stop. Not until we’re destroyed. Then they’ll come for you! They’ll kill you all, burn your palace, exorcise your ghosts….” She stopped, feeling every one of her inadequate fourteen years, and tried not to blush.

“So you haven’t defeated them. Just slowed them down a bit,” said the Vampire Queen’s sweetly vicious voice. “And now you want to forget nearly a thousand years of hostilities and become our friends. How convenient … for you.”

“And also for you, Your Majesty,” said Oskan, coming to Thirrin’s rescue. “The Queen of the Icemark is perfectly correct when she says that if we fall you will be next. The Empire prides itself on being modern, on being scientific and rational. Monst — people like yourselves and your subjects are the exact opposite of their ideals. To them you’re abominations of nature, and they’ll destroy you if only to make their idea of the world tidier.”

“What is this scientific? What does it mean?” the Vampire Queen asked.

“It means believing only what logic tells you is true. In some cases, it means believing only what you can see and what you can weigh or measure. It means denying that something exists unless it’s already recognized by science, and in most cases that means only if it can be weighed, measured, or seen,” said Oskan, impressing Thirrin enormously with his cool and calm approach.

“Stupid!” the Queen spat. “Doesn’t it occur to them that some things can’t be measured or weighed?”

“Yes, I suppose. But in that case they’d probably believe their science has not yet developed the means of measuring or weighing the thing in question.”

“Then by that argument, young mortal, their science will have to accept us, because we most patently can be weighed and measured. Ergo, they will have to accept our reality and our right to exist,” said the Vampire King with a triumphant smile that revealed all of his sharply pointed and glittering teeth.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you,” Oskan answered conversationally. “But you’re forgetting the woefully mortal ability to be unfair. You see, they don’t like you. They don’t even like the idea of you. And when some rational people of science don’t like something and believe it shouldn’t exist, they either ignore it or try to destroy it. In your case, they’ll try to destroy you, and not only because they don’t like you but quite simply because you occupy a rich and plump country that they want.” Oskan shrugged. “In my fifteen years of life and experience, I’m afraid I’ve had to come to the conclusion that sometimes people just aren’t fair.”

Their Vampiric Majesties gazed at them for a moment, then both began to giggle. Quietly at first, but then with more and more force until their cold laughter was echoing around the vastly high ceiling of the hall. “Oh, my dear, how precious! How perfectly glorious they are,” said the Queen. “I’m so glad we allowed them to come. Do make them do it again, I could listen all night!”

“Now, now, sweetness,” said the King in mock annoyance. “You’re being most unfair. Please remember their ambassadorial dignity. They have every right to our respect and good manners!”

Their Vampiric Majesties looked gravely at each other, then spluttered into uncontrollable laughter again. The undead courtiers now joined in, until the hall was filled with the hideous sound of mocking laughter and the King and Queen were leaning weakly against each other wiping their eyes.

Thirrin and Oskan felt like foolish children who’d attempted to impress some sophisticated adults and had only succeeded in making complete idiots of themselves. The longer the laughter went on, the worse they felt, until eventually they could only think of running away from the humiliation. Thirrin’s face blazed crimson, and Oskan stood hunched as though a weight of shame were bearing him to the ground.

“Enough!” a deep and guttural voice suddenly bellowed, rising powerfully over the laughter and snuffing it out like a candle flame. “Queen Thirrin Freer Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Wildcat of the North, is my ally and my friend, and I will not have her mocked!”

Thirrin turned toward the source of the voice and watched as a huge wolfman marched down the length of the hall. Immediately the Wolffolk guard threw back their heads and howled in greeting and salute as their King approached.

Grishmak Blood-drinker the First raised a paw in acknowledgment as he walked by the escort of werewolves, and then stopped in front of Thirrin. As she craned back her neck to meet his eye, she realized she’d forgotten just how tall he was, and she almost flinched as the huge paw took her hand and raised it to his lips in courtly greeting.

“Your Majesty, may I be the first to welcome you correctly to the palace of Their Vampiric Majesties. They themselves seem to have forgotten the rules of etiquette and decorum that should be displayed between rulers. But some are stupid enough to believe that mere physical immortality somehow excuses them for their ill manners and boorishness.” He turned to face the twin thrones where the Vampire King and Queen sat glaring at him. “Some kings and queens have made the mistake of believing that the long number of years they have sat on a throne will never end, and that nothing could topple their power. I would remind such rulers that wars have been fought for much less reason than an insult to a valued friend, and I would also remind such rulers that they lost that war and were very nearly destroyed in it, immortal or not!”

Grishmak’s anger stemmed from a genuine affection for Thirrin that had grown since he’d first formed an alliance with her. Of course, at the time, accepting her offer of friendship had simply been the most sensible thing to do, especially as refusal would have meant being hanged, drawn, and quartered by Redrought’s housecarls. But alongside all of the political and military good sense of having a strong alliance against the Polypontian Empire, Grishmak found that he quite simply liked Thirrin.

Grishmak glowered at the Vampire King and Queen, challenging them to say anything else insulting to the young human girl.

Thirrin, for her part, found herself warming to the Werewolf King enormously, and she was very happy to see Their Vampiric Majesties turn aside their eyes as if observing something down at the other end of the hall.

“I think it should be remembered,” Grishmak Blood-drinker went on, “that the dignity of a true monarch is born, and can sometimes be found in the youngest Queen, whereas others who have ruled for centuries have yet to acquire it, and perhaps never will.”

Thirrin smiled at the Werewolf King, her poise and confidence now completely restored. “I am so glad to see you, King Grishmak Blood-drinker. Baroness Grin-Skull told me you would be here, and I am most happy that she was right.”

“Ah, the Baroness! How is she? I really must visit her caves when next I make Royal Progress.”

“She is well, and was most courteous in giving us shelter after my party got lost in the fiercest blizzard. Her werewolves rescued us from certain death and led us to the caves of the Baroness. Her hospitality was both warm and deeply polite,” Thirrin answered, not deigning to glance at the Vampire King and Queen. “She also told me the interesting origin of her family name. I only wish I could have witnessed the young Baroness Padfoot ripping the face off the standard-bearer after the defeat of the Vampire Army.”

“Before my time, too,” King Grishmak answered. “But it must have been a glorious sight!”

“Now that you two have exchanged pleasantries, perhaps we can get on with the business at hand,” the icy-cold voice of the Vampire Queen interrupted.

The huge wolfman winked at Thirrin secretly, and then turned to face the twin thrones. “Business? Isn’t it already settled? Surely none of us has any choice. In alliance we have a chance against the Empire. Alone we have no hope whatsoever.”

“There are things to discuss, details to finalize,” the Vampire King insisted.

“Work for clerks,” Grishmak snarled. “Draw up a treaty and we’ll all sign it. Now,” he said, turning to Thirrin, “I’ve got a comfortable and warm set of caves away from this morbid labyrinth. There’s plenty of space for all your party, and lots of good red meat. Oh yes, I know you people like it burn — cooked, but I can arrange that, too.”

“You’re so right, of course,” the Vampire Queen simpered knowingly. “Alliance between us is an obvious solution. Especially when the Queen of the Icemark has such a high-ranking adviser, who is more akin to our people than to hers.”

“What do you mean?” Thirrin snapped.

Their Vampiric Majesties smiled to see they’d scored a point, and the Queen continued. “The boy, Oskan Witch’s Son, I believe you call him. We have many witches in our land, so he’s almost a citizen.”

“His mother was a White Witch. They fought against you, and still protect our lands from your evil!”

“Oh, I admit there are a few rebels who resist us. But magic power is still magic power. It comes from the same source as ours. And he is strongly connected to that source; anyone can sense it.”

“I’m no wizard of the Black Arts!” Oskan exploded, his face red and eyes blazing.

“Wizard? Who said anything about being a wizard?” the Queen asked, her voice heavy with contempt. “I’m not talking about all that male mathematics and mumbo jumbo. Your source of Power comes through your mother, through the female line. And as for your father — well, he was hardly what you’d call mortal, now, was he? But besides all of that, my dear Oskan Witch’s Son … you have a Power from a very female source; you are a warlock. You are a male witch.”

Now it was Thirrin’s turn to rescue her adviser as he floundered in a sea of mixed emotions. “Do you really think this news is some sort of shocking revelation?” Thirrin asked, her voice as deeply contemptuous as the Vampire Queen’s had been. “Any who have seen my chief adviser helping in our struggle over the last few weeks will have plainly seen his power at work. But I do have Your Vampiric Majesties to thank for giving it a name,” she said, her voice steady and strong. “If Oskan Witch’s Son is indeed a warlock, then we know that his abilities work for good against evil, and we all have reason to be grateful for his powers.”

A silence fell, and as the atmosphere crackled with hatred and resentment, King Grishmak faced the thrones squarely. “Have we all finished scoring points now? Because I’m getting hungry and quite frankly I find your taste in palace decor cold and morbid. The sooner I get back to my cave, the better. Let’s all just admit that we need one another and tell the clerks to get weaving on the treaty so that we can have it signed and be out of one another’s company as soon as we can. Agreed?”

After a smoldering moment, Their Vampiric Majesties nodded, and Grishmak let out a weary sigh. “Good. Now, Thirrin … I mean, Your Gracious Majesty, my invitation still stands. Would you care to join me at supper?”

Thirrin smiled. “I’d love to.”

The huge wolfman took her arm and, gently turning her away from the twin thrones, he led her down the hall toward the doors. “What I said earlier, by the way, about getting out of one another’s company, doesn’t apply to you. I was referring to Their Royal Face-aches back there.”

“I know,” she answered. “And I entirely agree with you about the decor. It’s about as cheerful as an iceberg.”

Werewolf and young Queen swept through the press of Vampire courtiers, who quickly made way for the formidable pair. The escort of soldiers and Wolffolk followed in their wake, with Oskan at the rear. He was deep in thought, at last fitting answers to the questions he’d been asking himself for years. The Vampire Queen’s statement that he was a warlock explained so much, but it would take a while to adjust to the idea. Now he knew why he could sometimes see the future, speak to wild animals, even heal without medicines and read the weather with such accuracy. He had many other skills, too, which he now realized might have their roots in magic. It would all take some thinking about.

Thirrin and King Grishmak reached the entranceway and swept out of the Blood Palace, followed by their escorts and Oskan. The massive double doors slammed shut after them with a deep boom. Oskan woke from his reverie with a shock — the slamming doors had only just missed him. Swinging around furiously, he glared at the studded and hinged woodwork with such fierce intensity that they suddenly burst open again, crashing back against the walls inside the palace and splintering deeply.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to be rude,” he bellowed over the heads of the courtiers cowering just inside the entrance. “Your doors seem to have slammed shut in a draft. I’d get that fixed, if I were you.”

Grishmak’s grin revealed his huge teeth. “Useful sort to have around, that warlock,” he said. Then he led the way down the steps of the palace and toward the surrounding forest.