Chapter 16

Ludmila was pressed against the back of Ilyshn’ish’s neck as the Frost Dragon banked northwards to follow one of the glaciers flowing down from the icefield above. Despite being nearly perpendicular to the ground, she somehow remained attached to the Frost Dragon throughout the manoeuvre.

At the crest of the glacier, they came across three powerful Frost Giants. One of them elbowed the tall one in the centre, who turned his attention up to them.

“Hoh,” a voice boomed up at her. “If it isn’t Fimbulvetr and the Valkyrie’s Shieldmaiden. What brings you to these parts?”

Ilyshn’ish circled over them several times before settling onto the ice nearby. Ludmila hopped off, straightening her skirts.

“The pass below, Thegn,” Ludmila replied. “We came to investigate something, but it seems there’s nothing left to investigate.”

“Strange, no?” Sigurd said, “It’s a good thing we have new and better opponents to train against with everything gone now.”

“The three of you were here for the same reason?”

“Not at all. Brynhild here was recently brought back, and she’s wrangled the two of us to help dig up her stuff.”

Ludmila looked up at the familiar Frost Giant Huntress, who nodded in response. Her gaze turned to the third of their number: a male nearly as tall as Sigurd, in nearly identical black plate armour. Something about him was distinct from the Frostreaver Champion, however.

“I see…and this is?”

“Gunnar,” the third Frost Giant’s voice was surprisingly soft. “Gunnar Erikson, of the Frostreaver clan. My Warband and I were returned to this life by the Valkyrie last week – something about Lord Cocytus looking for warriors accustomed to command. Hm…wait. Sigurd, didn’t you say she was the one that dumped the mountain on you in the first place?”

“If you’re trying to worm your way out of this, Gunnar…” Brynhild growled.

Gunnar raised his hands in a placating gesture, and Sigurd barked out a laugh.

“War, wine and women in that order, eh?” He said, “You’ve become quite enamoured of those war games.”

“Of course!” Gunnar replied, “We’ve been wasting away in these mountains for generations – much needs to be done if we are to prove ourselves worthy of striking out into the world again. To think I’d be trounced by some Goblins…”

“We’re not striking out anywhere until we rebuild our fleets,” Sigurd told him, “and Brynhild will be striking you in the head if you don’t help out. Come on, let’s get to digging – Gudrun’s already divined the location, so it shouldn’t take long.”

The trio made their way down the glacier with little more than a nod and a wave in parting. Ludmila’s gaze followed them until they became tiny figures in the distance, then continued to linger over the landscape. It appeared the same as it was before, except now she understood that it shouldn’t look this way. The scenery was clean and without blemish, lacking any sense of the negative energy field that it must have been before.

“Is something the matter?” Ilyshn’ish asked from behind her shoulder.

“I should be seeing something, but I’m not.”

“Alright, I know that I’ve been explaining some fairly advanced things in the past few hours, but even I’m not that cryptic.”

“Sorry,” Ludmila turned to address the Frost Dragon. “This place is supposed to be an ancient battlefield. It’s supposed to be filled with Undead. That means the area should be suffused with negative energy, right? It’s what collects and gains awareness, manifesting as these conceptual ‘shadows’ that you described.”

Ilyshn’ish furrowed her brow, raising her snout to take deep breaths of the night air.

“That’s odd…you said you didn’t notice anything when you got up?”

“The point is that I noticed nothing when this place should have been darkened with ambient negative energy. All sorts of Undead were around us when I fought the Frost Giants here.”

“Darkened…wait, are you perceiving the presence of negative energy in a different way than usual?”

Ludmila shared a long look with Ilyshn’ish. She sighed – there was probably no point in hiding it, assuming it was something all Undead could do.

“I…can ‘see’ it,” she told her, “though I’m not sure if that’s what’s really going on. Even small patches of it can be detected.”

Ilyshn’ish idly dug up a chunk of ice, crushing it to powder with a claw. Crunching noises filled the air until she had churned up a good portion of the ground between them.

“So there were Undead all over the place up until the point that you regained awareness,” the Frost Dragon said. “Can you do anything with your new sense for negative energy?”

“I haven’t tried?” Ludmila admitted, “The stuff in my demesne chases me around if I get too close.”

Ilyshn’ish shuddered, unfurling and furling her wings before settling down again.

“W-What happens if it catches you?” She whispered.

“I haven’t given it the chance, as far as I’m aware.”

“You specified the ‘stuff in your demesne’. What happens when you encounter negative energy outside of your demesne.”

“I avoid it well before I come close,” Lady Zahradnik replied, “so I don’t know. The first time seeing a floating blob of darkness come after me was disturbing enough. I was already worried about who and what I was, never mind having mysterious energies doing whatever they were trying to do to me.”

“You should find out.”

How could she just say that?

“Why?”

“Perhaps you do not understand the significance behind all of this,” Ilyshn’ish told her, “but take my word for it. The more that I hear, the more I believe that you did not just randomly become Undead. Someone, something, or a combination of things facilitated this. Something else allowed it. The world that Humans perceive is only a tiny part of the whole, Ludmila Zahradnik.”

Ilyshn’ish unfurled her wings and hunkered down.

“We’ve seen all that we needed to here. We’re going to Warden’s Vale now.”

“Could I at least have a reason…?”

“Because we are,” Ilyshn’ish narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “This is too important not to investigate."

Grasping the top of the Frost Dragon’s shoulder, Ludmila vaulted back onto her seat.

“You’re being uncharacteristically assertive with this,” she muttered.

“I won’t attempt to explain,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Words are insufficient. If what I suspect is true, you’ll understand soon enough.”

Ilyshn’ish took wing, angling southwards at tremendous speeds. As they crossed over the northeastern spine of the southern border ranges, Ludmila was reminded of something the Krkonoše once told her.

“Is it possible to know someone through the ‘song’ of their soul?” She asked.

“It is,” Ilyshn’ish nodded, “but how did you come across such a decidedly non-Human concept?”

“The Krkonoše – the pair of races that moved into the eastern ranges here – decided to stay because of that. You’re starting to approach their level of being cryptic.”

“It probably only seems cryptic because you’ve only existed as a Human until recently,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “Do they have a name for you, then?”

Ludmila reached deep into herself, attempting to convey her identity to Ilyshn’ish in the way that the Krkonoše did.

“The Warden of the Vale.”

Ilyshn’ish blinked one set of eyelids, then another. Then she gave a derisive snort.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Well, I suppose you might be framed in those terms by species of druidic bent. I wonder how much they haven’t told you…”

They hadn’t told her much if she were to be honest with herself. Everything to them was self-explanatory. If one did not understand, then they did not understand and there was no point in trying to explain. Ever since moving into her territory, the Krkonoše kept mostly to themselves. They tended to their territory, saved Lord Mare some mana by helping with weather adjustments, and rarely interacted even with the ‘Warden’ that they deferred to.

Ilyshn’ish swooped down over the new lake, skimming the surface as they sped along. As they banked widely to shed velocity, the Frost Dragon eyed their surroundings.

“Where was this ‘blob’ of negative energy that was chasing you around?”

Ludmila pointed down towards a spot a third of the way up the new hill.

“Near the spot where the inner citadel will be built.”

“Oh, I can’t land there,” Ilyshn’ish told her, “One of the Vampire Brides said that Death Knights will attack me if I get anywhere close.”

“It should be fine – I’ll be there with you, after all.”

They made one last circuit before alighting on the hill. Ludmila hopped off and scanned the area.

“It’s still in the same spot…”

The malevolent-looking swirl of darkness came to life.

“…nope, nope! It’s coming this way.”

Ilyshn’ish backed away from the direction that Ludmila was staring in. Ludmila backed away as well.

“Wha–why are you backing away?”

“It’s big and black and scary,” Ludmila shot back. “Why wouldn’t I back away?”

“The point is to let it reach you!”

She wanted her to what? Ludmila eyed the dark mass drifting up from below. Long, snake-like tendrils formed and stretched out towards her. She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

The tip of one of the tendrils touched her in the waist. A heartrending sob pierced the air. She could barely recognize it as herself.

Ludmila collapsed onto her hands and knees as a cacophony of raw emotions smashed into her being. No, they were more than simply emotions – they were something alien that had taken on a life of their own. Her chest heaved as she tried to fight away the overwhelming sensations.

“I hope that’s not catching,” Ilyshn’ish said.

She looked up at the Frost Dragon with a baleful glare. Drawing her wrist across her cheek to wipe the moisture away, Ludmila was shocked and appalled to find out that her ‘tears’ were black.

“That was horrible!” She frantically wiped her face, “Why did you make me do that?”

“To see what would happen, obviously,” Ilyshn’ish replied.

Ludmila reached into her Infinite Haversack to pull out a handkerchief, only to find out that the black tears had dissipated of their own accord.

“We’re not done yet,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “Can you describe what happened just now?”

“When it…entered me,” Ludmila swallowed, “I could feel what it was. Despair. Fear. Madness.”

“Could you tell what caused it?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“Do you recall any event in that past that could have happened to create it?”

“Nothing like what I felt,” she paused. “No, wait – there was. Two men who returned from the Battle of Katze plains died here in the spring. The blob was originally underground – it was probably where the old priest’s home was.”

“And what about now?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “Is there anything there?”

Lady Zahradnik directed her gaze downwards, towards the spot where the negative energy mass originated. There was no sign of its continued existence.

“There’s nothing left…what do you think happened?”

“The same thing that happened at the moment of your birth as one of the Undead,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Except...you probably shouldn’t let people know about this part. Doing so would be unnecessary and dangerous. Let’s try this again, shall we? Do you know any places nearby where violent conflict has occurred?”

"House Zahradnik has been skirmishing all along the border for generations,” Ludmila told her, “but there was a modest battle two months ago. If we head to the westernmost pass between the Vale and the upper reaches, we should arrive at the first point of conflict.”

They flew southwest. Along the way, Ludmila could detect no signs of negative energy from House Zahradnik’s long frontier vigil. They landed on the rocky pass a few minutes later, and she carefully looked around.

“It’s there,” she said. “A contingent of a Goblin Army was defeated near the top of this pass. It’s strange, a lot of Goblinoids died here at once, but it’s nowhere near as large as I thought it would be. It’s smaller than what those two men left behind.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?”

Ludmila frowned.

“Something pretty horrible happened with that other blob just now. I still have no idea what came out.”

Ilyshn’ish tapped a claw on the stones. Ludmila sighed. She supposed that she should find out while things were somewhat under her control. The trust between a Ranger and her companion went two ways – it felt a bit hypocritical if her feelings on the matter stopped at the first sign of risk. She tentatively walked over, and the dark mass boiled down the slope to meet her halfway. Unlike her first time, this experience felt strangely…familiar. She walked back to Ilyshn’ish.

“Running away again?” The Frost Dragon asked.

“No, I’m done.”

“That was quick,” Ilyshn’ish said curiously. “Why didn’t anything come out?”

“Did you want something to come out?!”

“Well, I’ve never seen it before. I wanted to see it again.”

Ludmila glowered up at Ilyshn’ish.

“One of these days, you and I are going to have words…”

“We’re talking right now?” Ilyshn’ish replied, “Anyway, your reaction here differed – why?”

“It was something I’ve long grown accustomed to,” she told her. “The feelings that come with battle. They’re very different from what I took in before. A different type of fear. A different sort of desperation. This…this isn’t going to do anything to me, is it?”

“Who knows?” The Frost Dragon shrugged, “Keep doing it and you’ll find out. At any rate, regardless of what you do, I must say again that it’s best not to tell anyone about this.”

“Why not?” Ludmila asked, “I know for certain that the people from Zurrernorn would be happy to know about this.”

“No!” Ilyshn’ish’s shout echoed off of the surrounding peaks, “Not them. From the lore that surrounds Zurrernorn, these members here are mere feelers for a vast and ancient organization. In their shadows lurk the impression of beings that are more powerful than you probably realize. Because of what you are, they may even consider you their most hated foe.”

Silence hung between them for several moments as Ludmila struggled to understand how she had drawn such a strong reaction from Ilyshn’ish.

“And what am I?”

“I don’t know the whole answer to that,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “I’m just a Dragon, after all. Consider my explanations from before, however. When you rose, the negative energy generated by centuries of warfare ceased to exist. I suspect it was used to create what you are now.”

“That’s similar enough to how all Undead rise, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t,” Ilyshn’ish shook her head. “Not normally. Lesser Undead lead to stronger Undead, but the negative energy that fuels their genesis is a result of propagation, not consumption. You, on the other hand, just ripped away an entire negative energy ecology wholesale. No Undead will rise there anymore unless new events that leave more negative energy behind occur. Not only that, but you demonstrate the continued capacity to take in additional negative energy. Undead promote their own ecology, performing actions that help it to grow. You do the opposite. This is why the Krkonoše named you Warden: they lack the proper concept to describe what you truly are, but at the same time it effectively conveys what you mean to them.”

“What does it mean?” Ludmila asked, “I’ve only been able to put together bits and pieces of it so far.”

“Generally speaking,” Ilyshn’ish answered, “it is a term used by societies who exist close to nature. A Warden is a champion of nature – a champion of their little part of the world. A fierce defender that stands against any and all who would dare to disturb its balance. The Sorcerous Kingdom already has a reputation for sowing death, but as long as the Warden of the Vale stands her eternal vigil, a perfect piece of nature will always exist in the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

The Frost Dragon’s maw curled up in a hint of a smile.

“The world may see unprecedented death and devastation in the future,” she said, “but those evil little sheep have quickly acted to secure a place in this new sanctuary. Opportunistic little jerks, aren’t they?”

“I’m a bit weak for such a lofty role, don’t you think?”

“Weak?” Ilyshn’ish scoffed, “If there’s anything that I’ve been forced to accept about the Sorcerous Kingdom, it’s that raw strength is the least of what impresses the powers above. You are allowed to exist as long as you are useful, not strong. Besides, I doubt you are as weak as you appear. That pass has been producing Elder Liches for centuries, and then you just came along and took everything. As long as you continue to exist, you will probably grasp more and more of what you are. As such, you must do what you must to mitigate unnecessary risks to your existence. Consider it the first rule of long-lived species – immortality isn’t immortality if you do something to cut it short. Someone not knowing about this won’t hurt them and it can adversely change your situation.”

Was it really such a dangerous piece of knowledge? If anything, the ability seemed quite useful, despite the immediate side effects of taking in negative energy that was laced with emotions like the first blob.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ludmila said, “How do you feel about this, by the way?”

“Me?” Ilyshn’ish frowned, “How I feel about the matter changes nothing, but I suppose I am both annoyed and hopeful.”

“Those are decidedly different feelings.”

“They are. On that note, do not let any truly powerful Dragons catch wind of this. It has connotations that they may find displeasing. In the event that they do, the less conscious you appear to be of what you are, the less likely they will act to strike you down.”

“Why would they do that?”

The Frost Dragon abruptly reared up, spreading her wings wide. Her tail lashed over the ground, sending stone and gravel flying off into the distance. Her right foreclaw slammed into the rocks in front of Ludmila, faster than she could react.

“Please!” Ilyshn’ish begged of her unexpectedly, “Please. You will find out eventually. That much is inevitable. For now, however, the ignorance of those who would bring you harm is your greatest defence.”