"A land as locked in mystery as it was in ice,
Keva is the stronghold of Humanity's oldest Houses.
With the Diamond of Stone fortress of Ice Watch
In the heart of its capital, it stood unassailed for millennia.
Yet ever ready are the warriors of Keva
To answer the ancient call and make their war
Against the Shadow and the Return."
- From an ancient druidic history of Keva, the First Kingdom of Humanity
For the hundredth time that day, Festus Ironstorm the Silvermane, war king of Keva and master of the northlands fought to stifle the urge to crumple the worn parchment he held in a massive hand and throw it into a nearby brazier to burn to ash. Instead, he refocused his attention on the waiting officer who stood, hands respectfully held behind him, a few paces away.
"And the state of these underground passageways now?" he tautly asked, peering with bright blue eyes at the officer, a colonel by the flashes of gold on his uniform's shoulder and sleeve.
"The last was filled in by Master Kaul and his wizards this morning, sire," the colonel, a broad-shouldered beast of a man, with the woar tattoos of the eastern Houses marking his bluff face, replied. "Any connection the shadow soldiers had with the old imperial breeding pits in the Gyren has been severed." He paused to consult a folded piece of parchment that he held in a gloved hand. "With the eastern marches now completely cleared, Keva has been fully cleansed of the shadow forces that assailed us some moons ago."
Festus frowned. Not that the Shadow had gone far into the southern and eastern reaches of his kingdom. Barely past the borders, in fact. The dark tide that had overwhelmed Kaph and Hernak to lay siege to Caliphra, Mamra, Septus, and Galental in the Hammer had come west across the Giant's Teeth. Only to crash against the fortified barricade that was his southeast borders and find itself dashed to pieces against the implacable might of the Kevan people.
"Did you follow up on the rangers' reports of Tal Morun being attacked?"
"Yes, sire," the colonel replied, once again looking down at the parchment in his hand. "The Talemonese capital has fallen to a massive demonic Shadow force out of the south." He paused to carefully swallow before looking back up at the Silvermane's grim face. "The city burns."
A ripple of tension washed over the Silvermane's jaw as he fought to remain composed.
"And my grandson? The rangers said he had retaken his capital with a mixed force."
"My apologies, sire, but we weren't able to determine whether he survived the attack and withdrew along with the column of citizenry and military that was seen escaping the city to the east, on the Giant's Way."
"Lawrence is a capable commander and king, your Majesty," the lean figure of Festus' chief adviser said from where he stood a couple of paces back and to the right of the chair the Silvermane chose to occupy here in his study high atop Ice Watch's central tower.
Possessing the lean features and dark skin of his Caledonian people, along with their wit and great intelligence, General Tam Daertha had commanded the Silvermane's armies for three decades and had been his close friend since both were children studying in Irongraad's premier military academy. It had been Daetha, alongside his cousin, Degin Tenne, and the other generals of Keva's Iron Fist, that developed the plan to free Talemon from Urud the Usurper and put Jerald, Festus' eldest son, on her throne.
Never once in the forty-plus cycles they had known each other had Festus been given a reason to doubt Tam. And, as he looked over his shoulder at his oldest friend, comrade, and adviser, he saw no reason to begin now.
"If any man would have withstood the assault of those shadow giants and their demons to evacuate his city in order, as it appears they have, it would be Lawrence," Tam added as Festus' eyes fell onto him.
"Not to mention, he is one of the foretold Wielders of a Weapon of Power," a second voice chimed in from Festus' left to point out. "Your grandson wields the Tree Staff, a most puissant weapon against the Shadow! It would've given him the strength to endure the Abysslords' assault!"
Festus slowly turned to look at the second speaker, eyes narrowed.
"You forget, elf, that I have an original copy of your Norak Utterance in the Ice Watch's library vault," he growled. "I know what my grandson is, and what he's capable of. Perhaps even more so than you and your kind."
The elf, her features mostly hidden beneath a heavy cowl worn against the icy weather outside the keep, inclined her head slightly, unbowed by Festus's heavy tone.
"A copy that we had to point out to you, your Majesty," she retorted. "And that we taught you how to read."
"Careful, cleric," Daertha bluntly directed before Festus could reply. "Do not disrespect the lord of Humanity's First House with your boorish attitude. Your elvish kingdoms aren't so mighty that we can't chastise them for their lack of respect."
This time the bow of the elf's head was significantly deeper.
"My apologies, your Majesty, General," she said, her tone mollifying. "I meant no disrespect. I only sought to reassure you, sire, that your grandson has the power and ability to win through any Shadow attack."
"Of course he does," the Silvermane tightly replied, a hand gesture signaling Daertha to calm himself before the fiery Caledonian could speak further. "He's an Ironstorm." And, for a long moment, pride in what his grandson had become warred with concern about the chaos he had been thrust into by the forces of Fate and prophecy.
Then, with the pragmatic resolve that was an Ironstorm hallmark, he pushed those feelings aside and stood from his chair. Then, after carefully refolding the scrap of parchment in his hand and tucking it into his belt, he took hold of his sheathed northern broadsword, which had leaned against the chair's side, with a gauntleted hand.. A final look at first the elf followed by one at the colonel, then the powerful war king was striding, sword in hand, to the chamber's massive fireplace that dominated an outside wall. A gesture brought Daertha over to join him.
"So, while Keva has been cleansed, Tam, Talemon has fallen to the demons," he observed in a voice meant only for his old friend, eyes narrowed as he stared into the flames. "With the buffer kingdoms to their north emptied and Herd Master Tromn and the Quada in the south pinned in the Ffta by the Dark Tide, my grandson's kingdom has no hope of reprieve." A muscle danced with tension in his jaw for a second time before it disappeared. "Yet I cannot stand still any longer. Keva must act!" He looked over at Daertha. "How fare the kingdoms of the Hammer?"
"They still reel against the forces of the enemy, Festus," the lean general quietly replied, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on the king's shoulder, knowing how much the Ironstorm monarch feared for the safety of his family in the south. "Our scouts say the alliance force that freed significant parts of Hernak and Kaph hold steady, but Morgan has only just recently defeated the Dark Tide at Quillus. Xanchalda is gone, as is Septus, and we've no word from Seamus's forces in the MaKalech."
"Caliphra?"
Daertha shook his head.
"It's a black hole. We have no presence on the island. The last our scouts heard was Cajastus-el fleeing Tal Morun with Lawrence and his aide, William of Tal Janux. But that was moons ago. If Tep's second son has managed to reach their island nation and throw off the yolk of druidic corruption that overtook Caliphra at the same time Mern took Tal Morun, we've no knowledge of it."
The worn leather sheath around Festus's broadsword creaked as his hand tightened around it. The situation did demand that Keva act, as he already had said. It was just time to decide where to strike first. As the grizzled war king was loath to deny his nation's need for retribution after the tumult that was the Dark Tide, honor and need dictated it would be to help the human kingdoms first.
After all, the Dark Tide had isolated his powerful country from the rest of Reutha, preventing him from not only helping his grandson against the demons that now held his capital, but the other human kingdoms struggling against the Shadow as well. Remembering how Humanity's most powerful kingdom had been pinned in place for so long, thrashing against the Shadow's seemingly endless hordes without relent or hope was a bitter pill for a king that had never known defeat. It was a pill he was no longer willing to swallow.
"Get Vledni up here. I want the Warjammers on the next tide to Caliphra, every squadron we have at Neri Mar. If the island wallows in the Shadow, we'll burn her clean. But if Cajastus has retaken control, he'll need a hand in keeping his throne."
"He won't like taking kevan assistance," Daertha pointed out. "Especially from Warjammers."
"He won't get a choice," the Silvermane replied flatly, earning a quick nod of agreement from Daertha, who then asked:
"And Talemon?"
Festus grimaced.
"Despite my grandson's best efforts, the demons and their dark masters now have the capital," he bit out, his voice barely above a growl. "And I curse them for it. While it burns me to let them keep it for more than a turn of the small glass after all that we did to pull it out of Urud's hands, we must. We haven't the resources or assets to free Humanity from the Shadow and face the Return all at once. So let us focus on what we can immediately do. Once Humanity is secure, we'll return and take Talemon back from the demons."
The veteran war king paused there as something occurred to him.
"However, Talemon is also home to two fortresses in the Diamond of Stone." He looked over at Daertha. "It's my hope Lawrence leads his people to the Storm Keep, the more intact of the two. It was built during the first war against the Shadow. It should give them a measure of protection against the demons."
"What about the second fortress? The one they call Dragon's Claw?" Daertha asked, revealing a familiarity with the two fortresses on Talemonese soil as well. "Last report said it was still in Stylles' Western Army's possession."
Festus paused to look over at the waiting elf for a thoughtful moment before returning his attention to his old friend.
"If what that elvish cleric Alitea says is true, then Gorgon's Dagger to the far south has been brought back from ruin to full strength by ancient magic. We need to discover that magic and use it to also bring the Claw back. The ancient texts that speak of the demons tell of their obsession with destroying places of strength. We restore Dragon's Claw and it will divide the demons' attention, buying the forces at Storm Keep time. To further that end, send Lieutenant-General Krun and two full regiments of foot to Dragon's Claw, along with archers, artillery, and wizard support to bolster whatever troops Stylles still has stationed there."
He gestured towards the elf.
"It's high time the elves and their 'alliance' prove their worth. Have Alitea show Krun these 'elf-trails' they use to move rapidly across the continent. The faster we get the general and his troops to the Claw, the sooner we can get it repaired and ready for action. As for the rest of Humanity ..."
Festus paused there to lift his eyes to the large map of Reutha that was hanging above the fireplace's mantle. It was exquisite in detail, drawn with colored inks on a stretched, tanned goat's skin by a famed Cadremoor alliance cartographer. Of the kingdoms that were drawn there, only Keva and Talemon still remained, the rest having redrawn their borders and renamed themselves a hundred times since the fall of that last, great alliance of humans and quada that fought against the Crimson Empire.
On either side of that map and on the chamber's other walls hung the tattered battle flags of those nations that tried to take from Keva what she had held since becoming a nation: her honor and will. Some were thousands of cycles old, going all the way back to the tumultuous times following the fall of Humanity in the wake of the first War of Shadow. Some were a bit less old, garnered in battle against the Crimson Empire, which held sway for a thousand cycles. And yet others, like the dirty, torn flags of Kaph, Caliphra, and Hernak were much more recent. As were a handful of dark pennants that once belonged to the Shadow regiments that had assailed their borders only days before. All were reminders that the enemy, despite its strength and numbers, could be beaten.
Only the flags of Mamra and Galental, nations that formed following the fall of the Cadremoor hung in proud unity with those of Keva, marking their status as allies. Even as he considered them, Festus pondered the fate of his fellow monarchs, Seamus Tod of Mamra and Morgan Galen of Galental, his eyes returning to the old map and its fading echoes of Humanity's lost kingdoms.
It wasn't back to those ancient borders though that the Silvermane found his eyes drawn, but to the physical details themselves of the eastern lands beyond the Giants Teeth mountain range. The broad forests, deep lakes, coastal plains and cloud-scraping mountains of the MaKalech; each he had either visited or studied extensively in his long cycles as king. And now he would send the cream of Keva's warriors across the Giant's Teeth not to conquer it, as he had in the past. But to save it.
"Two Fist regiments to the Storm Keep to reinforce my grandson's position there," he began. "Again, have them use the elf-trails to get there. The remaining Fists will cross at Snowhawk Pass then south to ..."
Without warning the stone flagons underfoot shuddered. A heartbeat later a heavily-reinforced door at the rear of the chamber was flung wide to let a cold gust of ice-laden air rush in. Then a robed figure stepped through.
"Your Majesty!" the figure cried. "She says she's ready to negotiate!"
His sword now strapped to his waist, Festus unhesitatingly stepped through the open door and into the gale-force winds beyond, his vision quickly filling with snow and sleeting ice. Still, he had been on this platform more times than he could count and could walk its boundaries with his eyes closed without fear of falling off its edge. Which was good, considering it was nearly twenty lengths off the ground, hanging near the top of the great tower that marked the main keep of the Ice Watch fortress.
That platform, fashioned by the ancient stonemasons of the First Alliance, was impossibly thin for being both as large and unsupported as it was. Yet with magic woven into the very stone compensating for the desire of heavy things to fall quickly to the ground, it allowed the impossible to happen. And the platform needed every span of that size to contain the creature that was pinned down in its center by powerful magic, the spells being maintained by two kevan battle mages, armor covering the robes of their order so thoroughly it was hard to tell that they were magic users if it weren't for the persistent warmth of magic at play that surrounded them.
The full-grown female ice dragon glared balefully at the kevan king as he approached, her gaze a physical thing that he could feel pushing against him more strongly with each closing step. If he was intimidated by such a look, however, or by the creature herself, Festus didn't show it. Instead he walked up to her scaled snout, which was held tight to the platform's surface with magic, and gave it a poke with the toe of his boot, eliciting a sharp gust of ice-filled breath.
"Do not mock me, little two legs!" one of the mages tautly hissed in odd harmony to a series of snarls and growls that followed that gust of breath. "If I were free, I would bring this tower down ..."
"But you're not free, dragon," Festus interjected to bluntly point out, dropping onto his haunches to look the dragon square in her dinner plate-sized eyes. "You're my prisoner, taken for the price of slaughtering two thousand rimrunners during the Dark Tide, when you and your kin saw opportunity in Keva coming under attack by the Shadow."
"Why would we not?" the other mage suddenly took up translating the dragon's language into Taren. "This is our traditional territory. We want it back!"
Festus frowned.
"This was resolved generations ago, with the Pact of Ice Fire," he noted, his gaze not wavering one iota. "We tried to negotiate in good faith and you attacked our northern holdings. We retaliated and defeated your flights. The Pact ended the fighting and dictated what part of the northern marches you could fly over. The rest now belongs to Keva."
The dragon snarled, a raw thing that sounded like metal on metal.
"We will no longer abide by the Pact!" she tautly hissed. "We are dragons. Not domestic fowl to be made pets by mortals! We will go where we please."
Festus peered at her for a moment then shrugged.
"Then again your flights will be shot out of the sky and cut into food for lesser creatures," he said as he stood. "Just as it was before the Pact."
Festus then began to turn. Before he could walk away, however:
"Wait!" the first mage that had begun translating, called out. "I wish to negotiate."
The war king stopped.
"Oh?" he said without turning around. "I came out here because I thought you wanted to negotiate then. Only to hear you threaten and bluster." He looked over his shoulder. "I'm not sure I believe you truly want to negotiate, dragon. Maybe I should just take your head and negotiate with your sister, instead." He looked straight once again. "Then, at least, the ice dragons would know the humans of Keva are serious about this intrusion into our territory."
"Noooo!" the dragon howled, frantically jerking against the magical bonds that held her in place for a long moment."Negotiate. Negotiate now!".
The harsh command was enough to send a rush of rage through the aging but still powerful monarch. This creature, this beast had the temerity, the unmitigated gall to demand a negotiation after she commanded her ice dragon flights to attack while Keva's back was turned to deal with the Dark Tide, slaughtering thousands? While his grandson fought against demons in the streets of his burning capital?? Festus's big northern broadsword cleared its sheath with an icy hiss.
"You demand nothing here, dragon," he snarled still facing away from the twisting dragon, his voice laced with enough anger it was a physical thing that lashed at not only the dragon, but the two wizards holding her in place as well. "Master Torc, find me the queen's sister. I want her bound and brought to the tor immediately."
"As you will, Majesty," the wizard on the left said in his own voice, bowing his head without taking his attention off the secured dragon before him.
"No, I ..." the dragon queen began before stammering into silence for a long moment, obviously feeling the kevan king's rage and seeing his naked blade held ready in an expert hand, prepared to sever her head from her body. Then, as abrupt as a winter storm off the pack ice:
"I yield, King of Keva." Festus looked over his shoulder just in time to watch the dragon sag against her bonds, her eyes closing.
"I yield to you ... master."
It took a physical moment of effort to loosen his grip on the hilt of his massive weapon, anger still seething through his proud, northerner's veins. Only when he had, did Festus choose to speak once more.
"Very well, dragon queen. I accept your fealty. I will not empty your flight's nests nor will I cut your kin from the sky in retribution for the crimes you have committed against my people." The big broadsword went back into its sheath with a smooth, economical motion as he turned to face the dragon once more. "But you will repay your debt to me."
"How?" the dragon asked, her voice filled with defeat. "Do you wish us beasts of burden? Or creatures of sport?"
"Neither. You will help defend our world against the demons that seek to unmake it."
The dragon's eyes opened slowly at that, the bright orbs filled with sudden consideration.
"That is ... an honorable task," she said, her voice now cautiously optimistic. "What do you wish us to do?"
"You will fly, and you will fight against the Shadow alongside the Races."
"The Races?? But not the Elves. Never the Elves!" the dragon spat, her hatred for Ramnor's eldest race obvious in her tone, and suddenly agitated once again. That is, until Festus's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, his expression hard.
"V-very well, master. Even alongside the Elves," she hissed, sagging back down onto the balcony. "Even the Elves."
Festus's expression softened slightly. It would be interesting to learn why the ice dragons hated the Elves so much, but not today. Today, Keva needed to be ordered for war against the Shadow and the Return.
"Tam." His general immediately appeared at his shoulder. "Advise Vledni that he'll have a flight of ice dragons accompany him to Caliphra."
"I will do so immediately, Festus," the bold Caledonian replied. Nodding in satisfaction, Festus returned his attention to the dragon.
"As for you, dragon, I will free you so you can return to your flights and prepare them for battle. Have one informed that they will accompany my fleet to an island to the west where they will assist in cleansing it of the Shadow. The rest will join my army as I march over the mountains to confront the Shadow there. Is this understood?"
"It is," the dragon curtly replied. "Do you wish me to return to lead my flights into battle?"
"I do."
"Then I will do so immediately," the dragon indicated.
Hearing that, Festus flashed a hand signal to the two mages who then let the magical chains holding the dragon down, fade. Feeling their pressure disappear, she instantly leapt to her feet before throwing herself over the edge. There was a brief hesitation then she reappeared, her great, webbed wings working to keep her two-length long body hovering in place.
"I shall return anon, master," she said via the wizard to Festus's right. Then she was wheeling away to disappear into the swirling storm.
"Only your will made that happen, Festus," Daetha noted, looking over at his old friend. "She would've knelt to no other man or woman. And now the ice dragons fight for us, instead of against us."
"My will is nothing if the demons defeat us and unravel Reality, Tam," Festus quickly fired back as he stared at the space the ice dragon queen had filled, in the sky. Then he was spinning away to march towards the balcony's entrance.
"Come, old friend. We have much work to do. Keva has slept when it should've fought and not only my grandson, but all of Humanity has suffered for it. Call the Houses, general. Keva is going to war!"
****