The Cry of the Icemark

17



Thirrin and Oskan gladly accepted a selection of meats. It was torn, rather than cut, into huge chunks, and smoked from the rough toasting it had been given over the nearby fire. King Grishmak ate with surprising delicacy, picking up slabs of raw flesh between his thumb and forefinger and biting off a modest mouthful before returning the rest to the flat piece of stone that served as his plate.

The caves were warm and dry and, as the Werewolf King had promised, were more than big enough to accommodate them all. In fact, they were so big that a decision was made to fetch the horses from the palace stables and house them in another of the connecting caverns rather than leave them to the uncertain care of the Vampires.

The caves lay in a rocky outcrop about a mile from the Blood Palace, and as Thirrin sat eating her meal, she could see at least six fires burning in the vast space. King Grishmak had obviously brought a large household with him on his visit to Their Vampiric Majesties. And though neither Thirrin nor Oskan could quite work out exactly what the duties of the dozens of werewolves were, they all seemed amazingly busy, bustling around from fireside to fireside and constantly arriving at Grishmak’s side to whisper in his ear.

“The treaty should be ready for signing tomorrow,” the King said as he politely licked the last of the blood from his plate.

“So soon?” asked Oskan. “I’d have thought there’d have been all sorts of legal wranglings and niceties to deal with first.”

“No. You can bet Their Royal Face-aches have had their clerks working on it for weeks already. Tomorrow morning their people will arrive here and it’ll all be ready for signing. One thing, though,” and he looked at them closely. “Let my clerks read it through first. It’s almost certain they’ll try to pull a fast one in the wording somewhere, and you’ll end up ceding a province here or a town there, if you’re not careful.”

Thirrin nodded. “We’ll be glad to let your people read it first. I’m most grateful for your help.”

“Happy to be of service,” the King answered gruffly. “You’ve both done very well for such youngsters. Their Vampiric Majesties are as tricky to handle as fish in a barrel of grease, even for one as gray-pelted as I am. But come the day when the Blessed Moon has completed her cycle a few dozen times, you’ll both be more than a match for them, whether they’ve lived for a thousand years or not.”

“Have they really lived as long as that?” asked Thirrin in an awed whisper.

“Well, I suppose we should technically say existed,” Grishmak answered. “But actually it’s longer. More like twelve hundred years, but they’ve ruled for a thousand.”

“They claim their kingdom extends to the top of the world, where the ice never melts,” said Oskan. “Is that true?”

“No. They’d like it to, but there are some to the north of here far more powerful than they ever could be, even though they’re mortal and live no longer than any other creature that walks beneath the sky.”

“Who are they?” asked Thirrin, puzzled that Maggiore had never mentioned them in their geography lessons. “Are they people?”

“People? Well, of course they’re people,” Grishmak answered in surprise. “But if you mean are they human people, then no, they’re not.”

“Then what are they?”

Grishmak seemed reluctant to answer, but after a while he said, “They’re secretive and quiet. They make no contact with others unless the outsiders make it first. Then if they don’t like you, you’re dead.”

“Yes, but what are they?” asked Oskan, frustrated by the king’s hints and riddles.

The huge werewolf stared into the nearby fire, and when he answered, his voice was quiet as though he were still thinking things through. “They’re the strongest creatures I know and they’d make a formidable ally in the coming war. Perhaps … just perhaps, Thirrin could make a friend of them and bring them into the struggle. If anyone can do it, she can. She could make peace between night and day, between dark and light, if she wanted.” He blinked and turned to face the young Queen of the Icemark. “Thirrin Freer Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Wildcat of the North, I give you a task. Your challenge is to make an alliance with Lord Tharaman-Thar of the Icesheets. He who is as white as the snows, as strong as rock, as tall at the shoulder as a man, as wise as a scholar, as gentle as a feather, and as fierce as the wildest winter storms. Bring him into our covenant and even Scipio Bellorum will be in awe of us. With Lord Tharaman on our side we will have a chance of stopping even the Empire … at least for a while.”

“Gladly. I’ll do whatever I can to try to win him over to our side. But where does he live, and how do I get there, and exactly what sort of … creature is he?”

“He is winter, given animal form,” answered Grishmak. “He and his people are Snow Leopards. They stand as tall and as large as your horses, their teeth are like shattered stars, and their claws like cavalry sabers. With them as allies, we could hold back the Empire and live free!”

“Snow Leopards!” Oskan said, amazed. “But how can we talk to them?”

“Exactly as you talk to me: They use the language of humans.”

“They talk?!”

“Oskan Witch’s Son, have you walked deaf through your woods and caves?” King Grishmak asked darkly. “Do you truly believe that only human people use language and talk to one another?”

“Of course not,” Oskan answered sharply. “I know the language of birds and of the four-legged ones. If I concentrate, I can even understand some of the meanings of insects and fish. But you’re not saying that they use the language of animals; you’re telling us that these leopards use the words of human speech. How can that be?”

The King shrugged. “You’ve spoken to the Wolffolk on many occasions and have never seemed surprised. What’s so different here?”

“Your people are at least partly human. Their language comes from the humanity in their blood. Are these leopards also part human?”

“No. They’re pure cat. But their legends say that when the One made the world, it loved their power and beauty as much as it loved the mind and adaptability of humanity, and so blessed them with the gift of speech, so that its two favorite creations could one day speak each to the other. Don’t you see? — that time has now come. Thirrin, take this legend to the Snow Leopards and bring them into our alliance.”

“But will they obey us?”

“No! Never!” King Grishmak howled. “They are a free and thinking people who obey none but their own Lord Tharaman-Thar. But they may agree to help you.”

Thirrin gazed at the Werewolf King as the information about these new people settled into her brain. “Where exactly do they live, and how do I get there?”

“Their home is on the mountain at the Hub of the World. Tharaman-Thar’s palace is made of natural ice and rock, and his people live by hunting walruses and the great ice bears that roam their lands,” Grishmak answered. “As for getting there, you’ll need help. No horse could travel over the snows and Icesheets that shift and change day by day, and if a storm hits you, then you’ll die unless you have the knowledge only a few people possess. Are you sure you’re ready to take on such a trek?”

Thirrin answered quickly. “No. But I have no choice. Such an ally could shift the balance of the war and help us hold back the Empire. Who are the ones who can guide us?”

“There are tribes of the Wolffolk who live far to the north. They hunt on the Icesheets and travel sometimes for weeks before returning home. If I send out word now, they could be here in two or three days.”

Thirrin gazed silently into the fire, then said decisively, “Send for them, Grishmak. I have an alliance to make.”

The next night, a herald and escort of Vampires arrived at the caves carrying a huge document made of dressed vellum. At first they demanded it should be signed immediately, but after Grishmak had laughed at them they agreed to leave it for examination and return the next night. A group of gray-pelted werewolves then took the document and went to the back of the caves, where they could be heard snarling and growling over it far into the night.

Later that day King Grishmak sent couriers to the north in search of the tribes of Wolffolk who lived on the Icesheets. Thirrin stood quietly thoughtful as she watched the messengers run off with the odd loping gait the werewolves used when they knew they had miles to go. And her mind ran in the same way over the events of the last few months.

In less than half a year her life had been shattered and shaken into a new form that she was still trying to come to terms with. The Icemark had been invaded, her father killed, and she’d become Queen of a land that was likely to fall to the Empire within a few short months. Only her soldiers and the network of alliances she was struggling to forge could save her people. And all of it had to be coordinated by her, essentially a young girl not yet fifteen, with little or no experience of anything but the classroom and the weapons training ground.

Most of the time the sheer momentum of the emergency was enough to keep her focused, but occasionally, when she was forced to wait quietly for events to unfold, the full impact of her near-impossible situation came crashing in on her. How could they possibly win? What chance would the army of a tiny northern kingdom, with a ragbag of allies, have against the massive might and power of the Polypontian Empire? Why not just cut their losses and flee into exile where she could at least live in the comfort and safety that the wealth of the Royal Treasury would bring her?

She fought against the rising tide of panic welling up inside her and turned abruptly to walk back into the cave. Oskan followed.

“Now that you’ve finished scaring yourself half to death, I’d like to have a word,” he said softly.

“What do you mean? Scaring myself?”

“The Empire. How does it go? We have no chance. By this time next year we could all have been destroyed.”

“How did you know I was …?” Her question trailed off as a now familiar sense of awe washed over her.

Oskan grinned. “Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t reading your mind. I just found myself in exactly the same situation as you; I’ve got nothing to do at the moment, and suddenly I had all the time in the world to start worrying and panicking. So I thought we’d both better keep ourselves occupied.”

Thirrin groped for her royal dignity. “And what does my adviser suggest?” she asked, in a voice made haughty by the relief she felt that he hadn’t been reading her thoughts.

“Well, first I think we’d better arrange to send most of the escort back to the Hypolitan. The horses certainly can’t come with us to the Icesheets, and I suppose we’ll have to carry all our own supplies with us, so the fewer in the party, the better.”

“Yes, you’re right. Give orders to the captain of the escort while I have a word with the King.” Thirrin strode away to find Grishmak, ignoring Oskan’s bow that was a little too playfully mocking for her liking.

She found the Werewolf King holding court around the cave’s huge central fire. About twenty of the Wolffolk stood before him, all snarling and howling in their strange language. But as soon as they saw her approach, they politely changed to human speech. The King stood to greet her and cleared a pile of bones that lay scattered on the rock next to him so that she could sit down.

Grishmak agreed that sending back some of the escort was a good plan, and he ordered some of the Wolffolk to guide them back to the Hypolitan. “In fact, I’d send them all back if I were you. It’d be far better if just you and the Witch’s Son went to the Hub of the World. Lord Tharaman-Thar would be far more impressed by the bravery of a small party than the glitter of an escort.”

“Wouldn’t it make the Royal House of the Icemark seem less important if only Oskan and I go?” Thirrin asked, politely accepting yet another platter of toasted meat from Grishmak’s chamberlain.

The King barked a short laugh. “This nest of Vampires might be dazzled by the sight of soldiers and weapons — after all, your dad did beat them in battle — but the Snow Leopards are different. They understand a brave heart and think it gives more glory to a ruler than any number of soldiers.”

“Oh. Doesn’t Thara … Tharaman-Thar have many soldiers himself, then?”

Grishmak patted her knee affectionately with a huge hairy paw. “You don’t have to worry about that. His Snow Leopards may not outnumber the Empire’s armies, but when he calls them to fight, they’re an avalanche of power; they’re a blizzard of ferocity. I think even Scipio Bellorum would be daunted by the sight.”

Thirrin nodded, secretly thinking that the Empire would soon be fighting the strangest army it had ever come into conflict with. Not only would humans be taking the field against them, but Wolffolk, Vampires, and possibly even giant Snow Leopards! If she were Scipio Bellorum, she’d take one look at the ravening monsters waiting to fight her, turn right around, and run all the way back to the Polypontus.

But that wasn’t going to happen. General Bellorum was a brilliant and vicious soldier; he’d adapt, and so would his army. No miracles would win the war against him, just hard fighting and hopefully brilliant tactics. She felt suddenly weary, so after emptying her plate of meat, she politely withdrew from the werewolves and went to sit in a quiet corner at the back of the cave, where she immediately fell asleep.

Thirrin was woken by the sound of huge wings beating the air. By the cave entrance she could see King Grishmak waiting patiently with his courtiers and, scrambling to her feet, she hurried over to him.

“Ah, Thirrin, there you are. I was just about to send a chamberlain for you.”

“What’s that noise?” she asked as the sound of the wing beats continued to thunder on the air.

“Vampires,” the King answered. “In their bat form. I think it’s the King and Queen come to sign the treaty, along with most of their court, by the sound of things.”

Several huge leathery creatures dropped out of the darkening evening sky and literally stepped out of flight, like fashionable ladies descending elegantly from a carriage. Vampires settled at the cave entrance, where they folded their massive wings with fussy neatness and looked around them. They were an odd gray color, like the dawn sky on a rainy day, and they had doglike faces with massive fangs. Their features began to run and blur, like pictures left in the rain, and their bodies seemed to flow like candle wax until slowly they coagulated into their human shapes.

“Ah, King Grishmak and Queen Thirrin,” said the Vampire Queen as she smoothed her beautiful silk gown. “My consort and I have come to sample your hospitality … and while we’re here we might as well sign this treaty you’re so keen on.”

“Your Vampiric Majesties are both welcome to the Embassy of the Wolffolk. Please come in and be seated,” said Grishmak, and he led the way to the largest fire in the cave, where a semicircle of four massive boulders had been set up as rough thrones.

The Werewolf King escorted the Vampires to their seats, then, taking Thirrin’s hand, he led her to the boulder next to his. As they all sat, Thirrin couldn’t help noticing that she and Grishmak were looking down on Their Vampiric Majesties. And that the Vampires’ long limbs were stretched out in front of them so they looked like schoolchildren who had outgrown their desks. She smiled secretly to herself; there were obviously times when points could be scored even within the restrictions of diplomacy.

Oskan took up a position behind Thirrin’s throne, and a silence fell as they all looked at one another. At last the Vampire King said, “Well, as we’re obviously not going to be offered any refreshments, we might as well get this treaty signed.”

“I have no blood to offer you,” Grishmak explained. “And for some reason, nobody wanted to volunteer when I asked for donors.”

“Werewolf blood is tainted with animal,” the Vampire Queen said with a shudder. “But human, on the other hand …”

“… is not being offered,” Thirrin interrupted coldly.

“Then let’s get down to business,” the Vampire King said with a weary sigh.

Grishmak raised his paw, and five gray-pelted werewolves came forward, the foremost one holding the rolled vellum of the treaty in his hand. He bowed deeply to the figures on the thrones and, after a nod from Grishmak, he said, “My colleagues and I have studied the document in detail, and have found several … errors in its composition.”

“Errors?” the Vampire Queen asked in a bored voice.

“Yes. Somehow a clause had been inserted that required Queen Thirrin to cede a third of her lands to Your Vampiric Majesties and to pay a tithe of twenty youths and twenty maidens per month.”

“Really? I can’t think how that happened,” the Vampire King said with wide-eyed innocence. “Must have been a slip of the pen.”

“That being the case, I am sure that Their Vampiric Majesties will raise no objection to the fact that I and my colleagues took it upon ourselves to erase this clause — and the one that required the Icemark to acknowledge its status as a vassal to The-Land-of-the-Ghosts.”

The Vampires coughed and looked away. “Yes, yes. All right!” the Queen finally said into the following silence. “Let’s just sign the treaty and we can get back to our palace and away from this … rustic idyll.”

Grishmak snapped his fingers, and a chamberlain appeared carrying a cushion on which lay four daggers and four quills. Thirrin followed the werewolf’s lead and picked up one of the daggers and one of the quills, and waited almost breathlessly as the cushion was then carried to the royal Vampires. They, too, picked up a dagger and quill each and, without hesitation, each of them cut their forearms and dipped the point of the quills into the running blood.

The gray-pelted werewolf now presented the treaty, and Their Vampiric Majesties signed their names. Grishmak also cut his forearm, though without the same drama or depth that the Vampires had used, and dipped the quill into the small nick. He signed his name on the treaty and turned with a smile to Thirrin. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and cut her arm. The blade was sharp and the blood ran easily, and quickly she added her name to the other three on the treaty. In the dim light of the cave she thought the blood looked black, and she almost shuddered as she watched it trickle, shiny and thick, across the vellum.

Then Grishmak leaped to his feet, threw back his head, and howled with such bloodcurdling ferocity that all other sound fell away. The Werewolf King’s deep guttural voice then boomed out, “May all the goddesses and gods of the earth and sky, all the spirits of blood and death, all the watchers and keepers of oaths see this act and hold our written names as binding. And may any and all who break this trust fall from the face of the Mother Earth and live an unending life skinned under the endless gaze of the blazing sun, mortal and immortal, Vampire, Wolffolk, and human being!” He turned his bloodshot gaze on Their Vampiric Majesties. “By garlic, wood, and cleansing fire, so mote it be!”

The Vampire King and Queen leaped to their feet and hissed, drawing their moist red lips back from their pointed teeth. “You go too far, Grishmak!”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, his voice mild and calm once more. “But now you’re bound, and not even you would dare break this treaty.”

The Vampire King and Queen hissed again and, striding to the cave exit, they and their courtiers transformed back into giant bats and flew away screeching.

“Good, that’s a job well done,” Grishmak said cheerfully. “Am I the only one who’s hungry?”