Read Online Frostborn: The False King by Jonathan Moeller - Free Book Online

out of her mind. 
    A long wooden table ran the length of the great hall, and the lords and knights loyal to Arandar had gathered there. Arandar rose from the head of the table as she approached. He still wore his armor, the soulblade Heartwarden at his side.
    “My lady Keeper, welcome,” said Arandar. “Please, join us.”
    “Aye,” said Prince Cadwall, smiling as he lifted a cup of wine. “We shall drink from Tarrabus’s wine cellars and eat from Tarrabus’s larders. After all the pain he caused us, I find it satisfying. A small and petty revenge, to be sure, but a nonetheless enjoyable one.”
    “Aye!” said Sir Tagrimn Volarus, a scowling old knight sworn to Dux Gareth Licinius. “I plan to take every Carhaine banner I can find and use them as saddle blankets.” He spat upon the marble floor. “I would think of other things to do with them, but such words are not fit for the ears of a noble lady.”
    Calliande smiled. “My father was a fisherman, Sir Tagrimn, and after seeing so many battlefields, I doubt you could say anything that could shock me.” 
    “If anyone could do it,” said Dux Gareth with a faint smile, “Sir Tagrimn could do it.” He had aged in the last year, the lines deeper in his craggy face, his hair turning more white than gray. Imaria’s betrayal had hit him hard, and Calliande wondered if there was anything left inside the old man but grief and anger. No – there remained his duty. Gareth Licinius would never yield to the enemy, not while he had an ounce of strength left. 
    Perhaps Ridmark had learned that from him. 
    Or perhaps he had inherited it from his father. 
    “This was a great victory,” said Dux Leogrance Arban. He did not look very much like his youngest son with his patrician features, but he had Ridmark’s cold blue eyes. “Castra Carhaine was one of the great fortresses of the realm.”
    “Aye,” said King Ulakhur of Rhaluusk, “but my warrior Crowlacht told me of how the Iron Tower fell. It seems, Keeper, that the stratagem worked here as well, to the pain of the murdering dog Tarrabus.” 
    “A great victory,” said Leogrance. “Yet it was a battle, not the war. Caerdracon is ours, but Tarrabus still besieges Tarlion, with all the strength of Calvus, Arduran, and Tarras beneath his banner, to say nothing of the dvargirish mercenaries he has hired. We must decide how to proceed.”
    “That is why I have called you here, my lords,” said Arandar. “Castra Carhaine is ours, but it must be a stepping stone on the path to Tarrabus and a reunified Andomhaim.”
    “Forgive me, my lord Prince,” said Calliande, “but I fear there is another matter the lords of Andomhaim must first address.”
    “By all means,” said Arandar. “If anyone has earned the right to speak, it is you. If not for your efforts, none of us would be here.”
    A flash of guilt went through Calliande. Her efforts had saved their lives, but if she had been wiser, if she had been better prepared, then the Frostborn would never have returned. 
    “Tarrabus is a deadly foe,” said Calliande, keeping the regret from her face and voice, “but we face a deadlier foe by far in the Frostborn.”
    “Aye,” said Leogrance, “but the Anathgrimm have kept them at bay so far.” 
    “The valor of the Anathgrimm is great, but they cannot stand against the Frostborn forever,” said Calliande. 
    “They have so far,” said Gareth.
    “Most of us fought against the Anathgrimm during High King Uthanaric’s campaign against the Traveler’s raids,” said Sir Tagrimn, gesturing with a goblet of wine. “I never thought I’d say this, but those spiny devils make fierce warriors, and I’m glad they’re on our side, along with that otherworldly Queen of theirs.”
    “I doubt not their valor, but their numbers,” said Calliande. “We have seized Caerdracon, but only because the Anathgrimm have protected us from the north. If they are overwhelmed, the Frostborn will fall upon us like a