Frostreaver Saga

The spirit hovered beneath the surface of the lake. Its form was almost impossible to understand. Part mist. Part light. Part memory. Caradawc could feel its presence within his mind rather than merely seeing it before him. Beside him, Phephe stood perfectly still. Neither spoke. Neither needed to. The Calling had brought them here. Now they were waiting to learn why. The spirit looked first at Caradawc. Then at Phephe. Its gaze seemed to pass through them, as though searching for something hidden beneath flesh and bone. At last it spoke. Not through sound. Through spirit. You have followed the path. Caradawc nodded. "We have." You have listened. Phephe stepped forward. "We have tried." The spirit seemed almost amused. Trying is not enough. The words settled heavily within Caradawc. He had heard similar lessons before. The spirits did not reward effort. They rewarded understanding. The Calling is no...

The silence lingered long after the emperor's eyes opened. No one moved. No one spoke. The ancient ruler remained suspended above the crimson throne, studying the travellers who had entered his forgotten hall. Yet his attention was not evenly divided. His gaze rested first upon the fragment hanging from Caradawc's belt. Then it shifted. Toward Molasar. The expression that crossed the emperor's face was not surprise. It was recognition. At last Caradawc stepped forward. "Hail, Emperor Ganak." The ancient Iksar inclined his head slightly. "Greetings." His voice echoed through the cavern. "It has been long since I was aware upon this plane. Who are you and what do you seek from Ganak, wyrm scourge and slayer of Jaled-Dar?" "I am Caradawc of Frostraiders." The emperor considered this. "Frostraiders." The unfamiliar word rolled slowly from his tongue. "A strange name." ...

The Frostraider camp stood deliberately between Firiona Vie and the Overthere. It was not an accident of geography. The location had been chosen carefully. Firiona Vie lay to one side, the territories of the more traditionally friendly races beyond it. The Overthere and the lands beyond represented a very different world. The Frostraiders belonged to neither. Their fellowship contained those who would normally have been enemies. Good and evil. Barbarian and Iksar. Ogre and Erudite. Elf and Dark Elf. They had chosen a place where all of them could meet without one faction being forced to live in the territory of another. Whatever differences existed between them could be set aside when there was work to be done. The Frostraiders had discovered that cooperation was sometimes more powerful than allegiance. Their camp stood in the middle of that divide. And from there, they could venture in any direction. Three nights after arriving, Caradawc's dreams re...

The first thing Caradawc learned about Chardok was that nobody truly understood it. The city rose from the mountains like the remains of a forgotten empire. Massive walls guarded ancient roads. Vast halls disappeared beneath the earth. Every adventurer arriving at its gates carried stories of hidden treasures, ancient magic, and lost knowledge. Most of those stories proved wrong. The reality was far more dangerous. Chardok was not a dungeon. It was a city. A living fortress defended by disciplined Sarnak warriors who fought with intelligence, organisation, and ruthless determination. The first expeditions ended badly. Groups entered with confidence and returned battered. Others failed to return at all. Healers exhausted themselves keeping wounded companions alive. Warriors fell. Spellcasters vanished into the darkness. The city resisted every attempt to uncover its secrets. Yet the adventurers kept coming. From Antonica. From Faydwer. From Odus. Every road in Kunark seemed eventually t...