The Traitor's Tale (3 page)

“Query: you can wield magical forces?” said the giant
mantis, the huge black eyes shifting to my staff.

“I can,” I said, “and I advise you to…”

Right then I realized answering that question had
been a mistake.

The creature let out a horrible metallic shriek and
shot forward in a blue and black blur, springing into the air. For
an instant I thought it could fly like its smaller cousins. Then I
realized that it had simply jumped.

A half-second later the giant mantis slammed into me,
bearing me to the ground. I tried to get my staff up to block, and
instead wound up with the weapon pinned between me and the
creature. Its armored carapace felt deathly cold to the touch, as
cold as steel in a deep freezer. The mantis did not have enough
room to swing its bladed forelegs, but that would not hinder it in
the slightest, since it could simply bite my head off.

The mandibles yawned wide, and I reacted on pure
instinct. I shoved my staff against its abdomen and summoned all
the power that I could. Fire erupted from the staff in a snarling
ribbon, the blast drilling through the blue chitin and into the
creature’s guts. A vile burned smell filled my nostrils, and the
explosion flipped the mantis off me, flinging it into the dirt a
few yards away. The creature let out a furious shriek and whirled
with inhuman speed, getting its legs beneath it, but by then I had
come to one knee. I thrust out my free hand and called magic. A
gout of flame, as hot of a blast as I could manage, lashed from my
palm.

It ripped off the creature’s head. The smell of
burning chitin and boiling ichor filled my nostrils, and the
creature’s body went into a spastic dance. For a brief moment I
wondered if the mantis could continue functioning without a head.
Yet the creature finally collapsed into a twitching heap of splayed
limbs, and then went motionless.

I let out a long breath and stood, using my staff to
push myself up.

That thing hadn’t been a spirit, but a living
creature of flesh and blood. On Earth, it had been rare to
encounter any living creatures in the threshold. The only ones who
ever traveled to the threshold had been wizards and sorcerers of
considerable power. The giant mantis had used no magic, thought it
had realized that I was a sorceress. It had also spoken of a
Legion.

A Legion implied more than one. Fighting a single
creature had been hard enough. I didn’t want to fight an army of
the things.

Best to get off the road, then.

I stepped around the creature’s smoking carcass and
headed for the trees, the mists of the threshold making the images
ripple and twist. Rather than exploring from within the threshold,
I decided to conceal myself and wait until I had the strength to
transport myself to the material world of Andomhaim. If these
mantis-things infested Andomhaim’s threshold, the sooner I could be
gone, the better…

I froze.

Blue shapes moved through the misty pine forest. I
spotted a dozen of the mantis-creatures walking with alien grace
over the roots and the uneven ground, their black eyes glinting in
the afternoon sunlight.

One of them spotted me and loosed a horrible metallic
scream, and the creatures surged forward in a blue blur.

I turned and ran.

***

I sprinted through the forest, dodging around pine
trees and jumping over roots.

The mantises shrieked to each other, following me
with inhuman speed. To judge from the rhythm and cadence of their
piercing shrieks, they were communicating in some unknown language,
albeit a language that could not be reproduced by human tongues.
Not that it mattered. The creatures wanted to kill me, not speak
with me, and I doubted I could say anything that would change their
minds.

I kept running. The threshold followed its own
peculiar laws, and while the images around me were misty and
translucent, some of the solidity of the trees seeped into the
spirit world. I could have walked through the trees, if I had taken
the time to gather my will and concentrate, but by then the
creatures would have caught up to me and torn me to pieces.

Of course, that meant the trees slowed the creatures
as well. Unfortunately, the mantises were far more agile than I
was. I had a good lead, but it was dwindling.

I rarely felt strong emotions other than regret and
grief, but a surge of rage and frustration went through me. I was
so close! I had spent fifteen centuries seeking the Keeper, and she
was almost within reach. I would not let these overgrown insects
stop me, not after so long! I would fight my way through them…but I
did not see how I could prevail against so many.

Perhaps I could negotiate with whoever or whatever
controlled the creatures. The mantises had no magical ability, and
couldn’t have gotten to Andomhaim’s threshold on their own. The
creature I had killed called itself a drone. Presumably it served
the High Lords of the Dominion, whoever they were, and likely these
High Lords possessed the magical ability necessary. If I could
reason with them, or threaten them into standing down…

Then I realized I was a fool. There was no need to
fight or negotiate. In a few moments my powers would recover enough
that I could leave the threshold and enter the material world of
Andomhaim. The mantises could not follow me then. Perhaps the High
Lords could, but I would have a better chance to eluding them in
the material world.

All I needed to do was hold out for a few minutes,
and then I could escape.

Of course, the mantises would overtake and kill me
long before that.

I could kill several of them, but I doubted I would
be able to take all of them before they tore me apart. That meant I
had to elude them somehow. They could see me, obviously, with those
huge black eyes, but I suspected they could smell me as well. The
insects of Earth used their antennae to smell, and likely these
giant mantises followed suit.

I might not be able to kill them all, but I could
dazzle their eyes and baffle their sense of smell, perhaps I could
escape them.

I came to a stop and whirled, calling magic and
raising my staff. The creatures charged to attack with calm
efficiency, their scythed limbs raising to tear me to shreds. My
staff blazed with fiery light, and I crossed my arms over my chest,
the staff clutched in my right hand.

Fire exploded from me in all directions.

It wasn’t terribly hot, since there had not been
enough time to gather much power, but there was a lot of it. The
blast of fire swept out from me in a ring and slammed into the
charging mantis-creatures. It did not do a lot of damage to them,
but whatever the creatures were, they did not like fire. Of course,
most things did not like a face full of fire. The mantises
skittered backwards with furious shrieks, the flames washing over
their carapaces, their bladed forelegs raised to protect their eyes
and antennae.

I turned and ran as fast as I could.

I summoned more fire as I ran, flinging it in gouts
to the right and left. I shaped the flames into walls and
semicircles, and ran in a zigzagging path, leaving an erratic trail
of flame behind me. The magical fire burned with as much light and
smoke as I could muster, the acrid scent filling my nostrils. The
creatures were still in pursuit, but my stratagem was working. The
light and smoke had dazzled and confused them, and I was putting
more distance between us.

Just a little longer and I would be ready to shift
back to the material world. If I could only find a place to hide
for just a few minutes, long enough to concentrate, I could be
gone. Perhaps one of the ruined houses would serve as an adequate
means of concealment, assuming the smoke had disrupted the
creatures’ sense of smell.

I dashed through the trees and found myself in a
clearing. I started to circle around it, fearing that it would
leave me exposed, and then a dark blur shot overhead. I dodged,
hitting the ground and rolling, and came to my feet as a creature
landed a few yards away.

It looked like a smaller version of the mantises I
had faced earlier. Those had been the size of grown men, but this
one was about the size of a hunting dog. The reason for its reduced
size was likely the glimmering gossamer wings folded across the
back of its carapace. This smaller variant of the creature could
fly, but its pincers and bladed forelegs looked just as deadly.

I leveled my staff, but not before the creature
jumped back a dozen paces, letting out one of those horrid metallic
shrieks. I spun as a dozen more of the winged mantises fell from
the sky, surrounding me in a ring twenty yards across. I called
fire into my staff, the sigils blazing brighter across its length,
and started to cast another spell as the larger mantises reached
the clearing.

“Hold!”

The voice thundered across the clearing. It was deep
as thunder, and yet somehow feminine, as musical as an orchestra at
the height of its skill.

I turned, seeking the source of the voice, and a
creature unlike any I had ever seen stepped into the clearing.

***

The creature resembled a human woman, albeit a woman
that stood nine feet tall. Her skin was like polished crystal,
clear and reflective, and put me in mind of ice upon a lake. A
crowned helm of dark iron hid most of her face, though cold blue
fires burned in her eyes, and from time to time I saw veins of the
same blue fire beneath her crystalline skin. She wore armor the
color of old ice, close-fitting and engraved in elaborate reliefs,
and in her right hand she carried a huge sword carved with symbols.
The sigils burned with cold and frost the way my staff burned with
fire magic, white mist swirling around the blade.

I thought of the legends of the ancient Norsemen. I
had spoken with them as they descended upon Britannia in the dark
centuries after Arthur’s death, and they had told stories of the
frost giants, terrible creatures that would one day return to
destroy the world.

Had their tales possessed some fragment of truth?

The woman removed her helm, revealing a hairless head
and a face of glacial, terrifying beauty. She looked lovely and
alien, powerful and terrible. With my Sight, I saw the magical
power within her, mighty magic of ice and frost, and I realized
that she was more powerful than I was. Even without magic, she
could have picked me up and broken me in half like a dry stick.

The woman walked several steps closer, freezing mist
swirling around her sword, and stopped, those eyes of burning ice
fixed upon me.

“You are the one my locusari detected. You can
understand Latin?” she said in that alien, chiming voice.

“Aye,” I said, watching her.

“Curious,” said the woman. “The nature of the magical
disturbance indicated an arrival from outside this world’s
threshold. I would assume you to be a traveler from another world,
but the fact that you speak the language of the natives is
telling.”

“Locusari?” I said, stalling for time. I did not know
if this creature was hostile, but to judge from the behavior of her
drones…

“My soldiers,” said the woman, waving an armored hand
at the mantis-creatures. “Bred specifically for war. We found them
on a distant world long ago and adapted them to our purposes. They
are most effective soldiers, though they want keenly for
independent thought. Otherwise they would not have tried to kill
you, but instead brought you to my presence.”

“And who are you to command such creatures?” I
said.

“You may address me as Arlmagnava,” said the towering
woman. “I am a Seeker of the Order of Inquisition, one of the
military Orders of the Assembly of the Dominion of the High
Lords.”

“Your kindred is not known to me,” I said.

“Lesser kindreds rarely know us by our proper name,”
said Arlmagnava. “During our last invasion of this world the humans
referred to us as the Frostborn. A title more poetical than
accurate, but fitting nonetheless.”

The Frostborn? I had never heard of that name,
either.

“Now,” said Arlmagnava, gesturing. Cold fires danced
around her fingers. “You shall answer my questions, and you shall
do so truthfully.”

She cast a spell, and cold power shivered through the
air. The light darkened, and the mist of the threshold snapped and
writhed. The sigils in my staff burned brighter in response, my own
magic rising against the cold power of the Frostborn woman. A
strange humming noise accompanied Arlmagnava’s spell.

“Identify yourself,” said Arlmagnava.

There was no reason to lie. The longer I kept
talking, the more time I had to escape…and I suspected this
Frostborn creature meant me harm.

“I do not remember my name,” I said. “You may call me
Antenora, if you must.”

The humming sound shifted slightly.

“Curious,” said Arlmagnava, the burning eyes
narrowing a little. “What is your purpose here?”

“I am traveling to join the Keeper,” I said.

“Our old foe,” said Arlmagnava, a note of rage
entering the alien voice. If these Frostborn creatures were enemies
of the Keeper, then it was also my duty to oppose them. “What is
your relationship to the Keeper?”

“I am her apprentice,” I said.

The humming sound of the cold spell grew
discordant.

“A lie,” said Arlmagnava. “You are not the Keeper’s
apprentice. When we faced the Keeper, she had a different
apprentice.”

“I…was the Keeper’s apprentice,” I said. “I betrayed
her, long ago, upon Earth. I have sought for fifteen centuries to
follow her and atone for my mistake.”

“This statement is true,” said Arlmagnava.
“Interesting. Fifteen centuries far exceeds the typical lifespan of
a human female.” The blue-burning eyes narrowed, and then widened.
“The marks of dark magic are upon you. Its use altered and twisted
your nature, reducing you to the state you now find yourself.”