By Volk-Oboroten'
One of the draconians looked carefully at Bragamund, who was cowering at Scathamond's feet. "He wears the ankh of Lilith," said the reptile, pointing it out to the mage. "Is he one of your mages?"
Scathamond gripped his staff tightly, and peered into the amber sphere at its top. "No. But he's been identified as a candidate. He could be useful."
Roughly pulling Bragamund to his feet, a draconian soldier said: "Get up. It's not often the great necromancer Scathamond is willing to hire an apprentice. He has orders to give you."
Bragamund was speechless as he faced the ancient wizard. He had often dreamed of learning arcane magic. Perhaps his dreams would come true now.
Looking directly at Bragamund, Scathamond said, "The Dark Lady only accepts mages who have proven their loyalty. I will consider instructing you in magic if you perform a mission for me. When the ice melts, you will accompany some of our people across the Sea of Souls, to the edge of the Dragon Mountains. When you reach your destination, the true nature of your mission will be revealed."
As the necromancer's bony fingers pointed out distant, pale blue mountains looming on the far shore of the Sea of Souls, Bragamund nodded, and said, "I will do anything for Lilith."
"You've made a good start," said Scathamond, looking at the Bragamund's blood sacrifice to the Vampire Queen. "But you need to be trained. The draconian mages will help teach you the proper ways to perform these rituals. You will learn more from me in the spring, when you will serve the Dark Lady in a new form."
Bragamund genuflected to the wizard, and then slowly moved away from him. As two draconian mages walked next to him to his altar, Scathamond looked down the road. A column of armed men was approaching from the Dark Keep.
Marcomir, Lowenherz, and Cnivagild moved back from the road, as hundreds of soldiers arrived. Lowenherz recognized some of the men as soldiers from the Bremen regiment, now loyal to Valaric. Others bore a standard with a different symbol, as Cnivagild observed: "The baron's coming. He wanted a neutral place for negotiations. That's why Scathamond's here. He's supposed to receive Calephas' pledge that he will join the fight against Nasoj."
Watching a group of soldiers erect poles for a tent, Marcomir observed, "I don't like the rumors I've heard about Calephas' past deeds, but he's a formidable warrior. It's said that he's the only commander from Nasoj's army who was able to beat the Long Scouts, and fight his way out of the Metamor Valley. If he's on our side, we'll have a much better chance of winning."
"It certainly will reduce the wizard's power," said Lowenherz. "I heard that Nasoj expended much treasure to conquer Arabarb. If Calephas deserts him, Nasoj will no longer have access to the sea. Once people hear that Arabarb is independent, other regions will break free."
"I'm needed at the conference," said Cnivagild, clutching his scroll. He quickly walked away from Marcomir and Lowenherz, looking directly at the meeting tent.
"I wouldn't want to deal with Calephas," said Marcomir, "but Cnivagild's always been able to get unusually high prices for his trade goods. I imagine he's struck some sort of a deal with the baron."
As Marcomir and Lowenherz moved back into the crowd of villagers from Starven, a band of draconians marched down the road toward the tent, escorting Scathamond to the conference. From the other direction, Baron Calephas arrived, displaying an imperious bearing as he strode forward.
In a few minutes, the parley began within the dark tent. Calephas sat on a stool, alone, while Scathamond was flanked by several draconians. Calephas lit a candle, illuminating a chart showing the paths leading from Starven toward Arabarb, and then eyed the draconians as if with annoyance. "A parley is supposed to be on equal terms, Scathamond," he lightly reprimanded, though no threat was implicit in the words.
Scathamond, with a grim, implacable expression, said: "We only came due to your influence over the Dragon Mountains. Our draconians have no love for humans, and don't care if your men live or die." Nearby, a draconian hissed as Scathamond stopped speaking.
Ignoring the reptile, Calephas said: "It is just as well. You won't kill me. You need me alive to make sure that the army coming this way from Nasoj won't crush this town and permanently end your efforts to control this region."
"Do you think we really care about this region?" said Scathamond.
Calephas nodded. "In as much as it is your window to the Dragon Mountains."
"That is correct. We've spent many years collecting eggs from the Dragon Mountains for the Dark Lady. We want guaranteed access."
Looking to the north, Calephas said: ""If my demands are met, when I return to Arabarb I will allow your acolytes to collect as many eggs as you want. In return, you will prevent any but my own men from traversing the pass through the Dragon Mountains. You will protect my lands in this way from an attack from the East."
"Protection from whom?" said Scathamond, looking at the claws of a nearby draconian.
"The humans in Nasoj's reinforcing army will be happy to join me," said Calephas, smirking slightly to himself. "We'll go north of the Sea of Souls and march home to Arabarb. You will protect me from any interference from Nasoj in the future. Set up a buffer zone between me and the wizard. If you must, kill every human between the Dragon Mountains and Nasoj's Citadel you can find. Burn the land with dragon fire to keep any from taking their place."
"This is tempting," said Scathamond. "Is there anything else you can offer us?"
Calephas waved one hand dismissively. "Arabarb has been troubled by minor rebellions. It is my understanding that necromancers need humans for their experiments. In addition to allowing you access to the mountains, we can supply some traitors for your studies of magic. Any traitor that we capture alive will be given to you and your fellows for their experiments. By this you will deter future revolts, by performing cruel and unusual spells on the prisoners, setting an example for the others."
"Is there anything else?" Scathamond said, his voice plainly intrigued.
"Just a few things, but only one is nonnegotiable."
"And that is?"
Calephas leaned forward on the stool, and drew a line through the western portion of the Dragon Mountains. "No draconian will enter my land, and you will not send representatives to insure I am being sufficiently loyal." Several draconians hissed in strong disapproval at this. "Let me reiterate, this is not negotiable. The presence of draconians in Arabarb or her adjoining lands will only further unrest there. If I lose control of Arabarb, you risk losing access to the Dragon Mountains."
Scathamond pondered that, and then after a moment's deliberation, nodded at last. "You will pay your tribute to Lilith just as any other in her domain."
"Of course. But that can be done without draconians."
The necromancer nodded at last. "It is granted then, on one condition. You will allow a squad of draconians to accompany you to the pass."
"Fair enough."
Scathamond took one breath before continuing. "What else is there for us to discuss?"
------------------------------------------------------- Baron Calephas emerged from the tent a little while later. He greeted Cnivagild, who held the scroll tightly. "The pact has been signed," said Calephas. "We all serve the Dark Lady now. I even made the necromancer promise to supply some magical items for my journey. I wouldn't want to meet Nasoj's mages on this side of the Dragon Mountains."
Handing the scroll to the baron, Cnivagild said: "I've written some estimates of how many gems could be sent from Lik to Arabarb next year. I'm sure you could become very wealthy by shipping them to the nations further south. Best of all, we won't have to worry about the Metamor beasts. They'll stay back in their little valley, guarding that obsolete pass, never realizing that we've found a way to go around them."
Soon, Cnivagild and Calephas walked away, joining some of the men from the baron's regiment. Meanwhile, Scathamond rejoined his draconians, fixing his enigmatic gaze on Starven. Lowenherz felt distinctly uneasy, as he did not trust any mage, especially one who had been linked to Nasoj in the past.
Marcomir watched Cnivagild talking to Baron Calephas, and said: "You'd think he was the leader of Starven. How can he control our destiny? He should have discussed this with the rest of the village first. It's one thing to make a trade deal, but another to get involved in contracts with necromancers."
A nearby villager added, "I didn't mind when Cnivagild made trade deals with Nasoj, but this is different. Back then, we had to obey whatever rules were set by the wizard's envoy. But now, things are supposed to have changed. Who gave him the authority to deal with Calephas? Did you, Marcomir?"
Watching the baron's soldiers depart, Marcomir replied, "No. I haven't paid attention to Cnivagild's deals, as I was mainly interested in the defenses of this town. I remember the old days, when Starven could only rely upon its own strength. Back when I was boy, we had to constantly watch the hills for lutin attacks."
"Weren't you subjects of Metamor back then?" asked Lowenherz.
"I suppose that was true, but we never received much protection," replied Marcomir. "So many lutin tribes were roaming the Giantdowns then! After the Dark Keep was burned, patrols from Metamor rarely ventured this far north. Occasional parties of adventurers would travel in this direction from the Keep, but they were only looking for treasure. Then, after Nasoj took over, we were entirely cutoff from Metamor. Also, we heard rumors of what happened there at the Battle of Three Gates. Many feared that the evil curse would spread north from the Metamor Valley, so no one attempted to travel there anymore."
A second villager looked at the icy Sea of Souls, and asked Marcomir, "Do you think Baron Calephas will help protect this town? His soldiers seem to be marching away. Shouldn't Cnivagild be concerned about our safety first, rather than profits from a trade deal?"
Shaking his head, Marcomir replied, "I don't expect the baron's men to stay here. I just hope that Calephas keeps his word, and persuades Nasoj's human forces not to attack us. We can deal with lutins, but I doubt if we could withstand an assault by well-trained regiments from Nasoj's great cities. Their weapons are far superior to our own."
"They'll go with him," said another man. "Now that Nasoj is whipped, his soldiers will see Baron Calephas as a new leader. I'm sure they will be happier to go to Arabarb than to be sent on a suicidal mission against the Keepers. Even up north, the wizard won't be able to hide the news that he lost almost his entire army in a foolish winter campaign against Metamor."
As Calephas' troops continued marching away, Lowenherz said: "I'm rather worried about this. After all, Nasoj was once only a minor official, in the lands far to the south. Calephas started out in a similar way. Could he try to make himself a second Nasoj? Who knows what he could learn from that sorcerer."
"He's coming this way!" said Marcomir, noticing Scathamond drawing near. "What does he want from us?" The villagers withdrew, nervous at the presence of the ancient mage. He reminded them too much of the Moranasi.
Lowenherz watched the old wizard traverse the snow between them and the road. It seemed to vanish into the air as he advanced, leaving his path completely clear to the bare ground. Scathamond's amber crystal gleamed in the sunlight as he faced Lowenherz, saying: "I know you are pledged to another. But we fight on the same side, despite our differences. Remember, when you reach Nasoj's Citadel, your curse will end. But for now, defend this town, as Baron Calephas cares more for himself than your safety."
Marcomir watched last of the baron's troops head north, accompanied by a few draconians. "He is going to recruit Nasoj's human soldiers," said Scathamond, facing Marcomir. "I'm sure they will follow him, for they'll be much happier in lands where humans still rule, like Arabarb. But Nasoj has many non-human subjects. You must guard your village against attack. Act quickly!"
After delivering his message, the necromancer nimbly climbed up the hill to the path, moving quite quickly for his apparent age. Just before heading up the road with his draconians, Scathamond dispatched the Bremen soldiers into Starven. Marcomir then ordered them to the catapults by the boats, to watch for an attack across the ice.
------------------------------------------------------ "Can we really trust Baron Calephas?" said Lowenherz, about an hour later.
"That's our only hope," said Marcomir. "We could never withstand an attack by Nasoj's entire army."
"You should guard the boats carefully," said Lowenherz. "When I fought at sea, we greatly feared a weapon used by the Whalish fleets. It could set our ships ablaze from a distance. Even though it's winter, I suspect our foes will use fire. What better way to damage a town made up of barges than to burn its boats down to the waterline? I think they may use fire arrows."
"I fear the lutins will be involved," said Marcomir. "While the lutins from the Metamor campaign will never fight for the wizard again, I suspect many in Nasoj's reinforcing army remain his slaves. They certainly won't follow Baron Calephas to Arabarb."
Hearing a commotion from the villagers, Lowenherz looked to the south, and spied a group of men approaching. He quickly perceived that they were not ordinary humans, but animal-like, touched by Nasoj's magic. Lowenherz recalled his recent visit to Metamor Keep and concluded that they must be some of the Long Scouts. Glancing at their vulpine leader, he wondered why the fox-man was not carrying a black axe, for Lowenherz had heard that Misha always carried his ebony weapon when on patrol.