The Frozen Codex

By Fraser McCrorie

A desperate kingdom, on the brink of destruction...

...must trust it's salvation in a warrior from the north.

A great force is stirring in the Kingdom of Aer and Hraki intends to find the source of the whispered words, said to come from the Gods themselves!

His coming marks the end of a delicate balance of power amidst the onset of a civil war which threatens to consume them all.

The Frozen Codex is a gripping Fantasy Epic set to the backdrop of a cold and unforgiving landscape

This is the ebook format of the Novel - also available as a paperback

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291848205

Book preview

The Frozen Codex

The Frozen Codex

By Fraser McCrorie

Copyright 2014 © Fraser McCrorie

The right of Fraser McCrorie to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any other means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without the same permission.

All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover Art by Jordy Lakiere

Internal Art by Gillis Björk

Printed and Bound in Great Britain by Lulu Enterprises

ISBN 978-1-291-84820-5

Chapter 1

Spiral, turning hands of fate

The sultry touch of nails on slate

Of sleet and hail and silent storm

Where silent faces lay forlorn

Greyer now and still unborn

Who finds himself in winters scorn

How a whisper tells of what was left

Where man can wander; name bereft

Each whisper of a sickness kept

Does rest in lies of how I've slept

And as my dreams do twist and curl

The night air howls as days unfurl

Each pallid kiss upon my cheek

Does rust and rot, begin to reek

The bitter taste upon my lips

The harried twist of sunken ships

The nameless plague that sits atop

The bed that misery does rock

The timeless noose of open shop

Where death does go some time to stop

Where all are cold

And all are still

The sleet and hail and silent storm

Where silent faces lay forlorn

Jacob shot upright in his boat, desperately breathing and grasping around, choking for breath. He felt as if he had been dragged from the water moments before drowning. He leant on the side of the boat to steady himself, the boat rocking with uneasy motion. Jacob haphazardly rolled over the side, landing on the wet pebbles and sand. Staggering backwards he grabbed the boat and looked out over the river at the men on the other side, how they raced about to look for another boat. Jacob did not wait around and left the boat bobbing in the water as he scrambled up the hills by the river bank. What he saw from the peak was a plain of snow, littered with mountainous hills and rocky shelves, with a bitterly cold wind whistling towards him.

He walked as fast as he could manage through the thick snow, each step a gruelling trudge, as he marched away from the river. The wind lashed his face, and he hastily took the scarf from his satchel and wrapped it around his head. Looking upward, the brightness of the morning sun blinded him, and he took a swig of water from the flask that dangled at his hip. The landscape was bleak and he stumbled forwards, blocking the sun from his eyes. His body was numb and frostbitten, as if frozen teeth gnawed on his limbs till they grew rigid.

Jacob began to shuffle his way down the hill and started to gain momentum, bounding with each step as his knee buckled and he fell forwards.  He tumbled down the hill, the pots and pans at his side clanking together as he rolled. Jacob scrambled to his feet and shook the snow from his clothes as he began walking on. Looking back, he had lost sight of his pursuers and hoped that they would not follow him across the river at all.

They knew he could hear the whispered words and it somehow scared them. Why? The question ate away at Jacob and he knew he would never know unless he was captured again. He made a solemn promise to himself as he thought, that he would not allow that to happen. Each episode left him waking with a great sense of fear and confusion. His memory was hazy but he remembered each voice with such intensity.

Jacob came to his senses as the wind chilled his face, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Mounds of white snow had grown around rock formations, which were now were only visible at their tips; like scattered teeth piercing the snow. On seeing them he ground his teeth together. Biting his teeth helped stop them chattering and stopped him talking to himself.

Jacob struggled on through the snow as he fell, clambering back to his feet and began sluggishly trying to wade once more through the snow. He was shaking violently when he saw a small row of snow covered trees. Pressing his scarf to his face, coughing and wheezing he tried to catch his breath. Shaking off the loose snow, he walked down a sheltered ditch to the trees, hunching down beneath them and began to rock back and forth.  There was nothing to see there other than the trees, which now seemed as comfortable as anything he could remember. Hidden there from the wind and his pursuers, Jacob closed his eyes, utterly exhausted as darkness enveloped him.

A miasma of light drifted through the trees as the branches swayed. It made his eyes flicker in his moment of rest his as his breath stopped and heart froze. Dogs barked nearby and Jacob clutched the branches of the tree to pull himself up. The pots clanked at his side and he began to panic as the sound of the dogs grew louder and closer. He untied them from his belt and satchel grimacing as they made more noise before putting them down by the trees. They were close and the thought of capture spurred him on making a quick dash for the other side of the ditch, ignoring the hunger that began to knot in his stomach, tied and twisted like rope. He shuffled on in the snow up the hill out of the ditch using the trees for support as he began to hear the voices of the men drawing closer.

An hour passed as he walked, sinking with each step further into the snow, crunching, and crackling beneath his feet. Jacob realised that he would not survive long out here in the cold, even if he were not found. His only chance was to get back to the boat and sail back south to the mainland. Jacob began to hop and climb from rock to rock to conceal his tracks as he made his way round another hill. He crouched down behind a rocky outcrop as he heard the dogs in the ditch searching for his tracks. Huddled in a ball, he shivered violently, stopping himself from coughing. The wind whistled around the rocks and he strained to listen to the men who appeared to be heading in a different direction. He sighed in relief as he pushed back against the rocks and drew the blanket from his satchel to cover himself. The snow glowed in the sunlight and sheltered from the wind his eyes flickered open as he struggled to stay awake.

He shuffled under the blanket until his foot stuck out the bottom. The leather of his shoes was cracked and torn towards the toes but he felt nothing beneath. Peeling back the sodden leather revealed a row of swollen blackened stumps. This winter had been long and the journey since escaping the city had been made harder than expected. He squeezed his toes which felt hard and greasy to the touch. He sucked in his breath as he saw blood oozing over his fingers.

He had to go. Now. Terrified, Jacob hobbled to his feet, grasping around to steady himself. He scanned the land around him and saw only the plains of snow leading off in front of the hills he had taken shelter on. Voices were coming from just over the hills behind him and Jacob began to panic.

Jacob crawled over the rocks up to the top of the hill and saw the men were following his trail. He slid back down the hill and into a small gulley between two peaks where water trickled down. Carefully he grasped the rocks and lowered himself down as his sodden shoes squelched on the icy mud. The sounds grew fainter as he trudged back through the snow to the boat. He looked over his shoulder every few seconds; sure they were behind him as he climbed up and over the hill towards the river. As he reached the top of the small hill he fell to his knees and crawled behind a rock as he saw three men walking around the boat and examining it. They did not wear the Temple colours. Were they mercenaries? Were they men hired by the Inquisitors to finish the job?

As the men walked about the boat they lifted the oars and smelled them. They touched the boat in a most peculiar manner and Jacob realised they could not have been part of the Temple, they must be northerners, but what had brought them this far out onto the snow?

Perhaps they could help him, maybe even protect him. Regardless he could not turn back. Whatever his fate was it now lay in the hands of these three strangers, as they stood between Jacob and his boat. Jacob’s heart raced and he thought to go down to them a number of times before falling back out of sight. Jacob crouched down as he felt his mind filling with a thousand miniscule flames, sparkling like the stars of the sky. It happened the way it always did and he fell into the snow. Once more the voice began to penetrate his mind.

Silhouettes that stalk the sun

Tearing cloth that wrapped unwinds

That cease to be, unfurl, yet bind

Those holes that pierce the nightly sky

Tear the fabric, that we may die

For that they stalk our frozen fate

Those ghosts that leave us in their wake

That underneath their boots we quake

That from a life a shadow make

Jacob wasted no time in scrambling down the hill to meet them when he came to his senses and shuffled down as fast as he could. The men spotted him immediately and turned to face him as he approached them. The three men wore matted fur coats and had greasy black hair, dripping wet and oozing with mould. There was a deep foreboding about them and Jacob wondered what brought such men so far from their homes. Tears began welling in his eyes as he struggled to stare at their horrible visage.

They seemed to belong to an entirely different race and had a facial structure like none he had seen before. Unsure as to their intention, Jacob stopped in front of the three men. Taking a moment to think of what to say, Jacob looked closer into the face of one of the men and saw that he had a disgusting beard, so thick they may have been the feathers of a bird. Bristles more suited to the face of a sea creature than a man. As he came closer the foetid stench of mould and decay swelled in Jacobs lungs and he retched on the overwhelming aura before him.

Sickening disgust, bubbling within him, Jacob turned, climbing into his boat. Slipping and stumbling he jumped to the other side only to fall in, hitting his head against the wood. One of the men had grabbed his leg and despite Jacobs struggling had pulled him out of the boat and into the water.

The cold shock winded him and his nostrils sucked in water, choking as his eyes closed in the darkness. Jacob thrashed about in the water trying to find something to grasp onto to pull himself out. Straining to open his eyes, he saw the men were around him. Jacob felt terror strike in his heart as the men held him and while he desperately grabbed at them, began pushing him under the water.

Chapter 2

Hraki knelt down using the boat to steady himself as he heaved the body out of the water onto the bank of the river. It splashed limply down where he dropped it and a cool stream of water rushed past to join the rest of the river. Crystals had formed on the man’s hair and skin where the water had frozen and turned his skin a tint of blue. As he squatted down next to him, Hraki surveyed the landscape. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

Whoever he was, his name was forgotten now. Blue skin, bloated with water, Hraki turned the man’s head to see he had only one ear. Hraki undid his scarf a little and wiped the perspiration from his mouth and beard.

Grimacing, Hraki began to climb into the boat next to the body. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone he thought, dying out here in the cold. He had been wandering the hills when he’d spotted the boat, but to his surprise the owner was already dead. He had a lot of answers to search for, but nothing so far made any sense.

The boat rocked against the jagged rocks as it drifted on the water. It was small, flat decked and with a single mast in its centre. The smell of salt water hung about it as it rocked on the water and Hraki drew a deep breath, How does a man drown next to his boat? he thought out loud. There were two oars floating at the bottom of the boat and Hraki held them as he tipped the boat on its side to drain the water from the bottom.

He had been wandering through the snow covered landscape for days, climbing the hills and travelling towards the river. On climbing to the top of the hills nearest the river he’d seen figures in the distance but had not descended in time to see which way they went.

Grabbing the wet rope that was around the base of the rocks he threw it into the boat. He jumped aboard, steadying the sides with his feet. The wind was blowing a fierce gale as he covered his face and reached for the oars. Pushing off from the land he paddled on one side of the boat to face away from the land. He took one last look at the body before leaving, wondering who had died such a nameless victim of the elements.

Rowing a few hundred yards, Hraki undid the fastening where the sail was tied. As the sail unfurled it caught the wind and flapped violently in his hands as he grasped hold of the ropes and lashed it in place. With the aid of the wind Hraki sailed southward toward the other side of the river. There was no snow on the other side, only grass and stone, and Hraki stared out as he held the ropes in place as the boat cut through the water.

The waves lapped against the pebbles as Hraki’s ship crashed up the river bank, grinding and dislodging the pebbles and mooring in their midst. Hraki was jolted back as he hit land, grabbing the rope and leaping over the side, splashing into the shallow water. Wading up to the nearest tree, he dragged the boat up the side of the river and tied it there stopping to survey the landscape.

On top of a hill that overlooked the river was a stone tower, surrounded by a wooden wall. As the wind carried a rain cloud overhead, Hraki hunched over and put his hood up. He began to circle the cliff which the tower stood upon as the rain beat against his back.

The fort expanded before Hraki’s eyes and he realised it was a small coastal village, surrounded by a wall of wooden stakes. Hraki strained his ears to hear any noise coming from within the wall as he walked but the wind was howling around the wall so violently he could hear nothing else.

Approaching the gate, Hraki quickly went inside to take shelter from the wind. As he stepped through the gate the wind was silenced and there was nothing to be heard save for the crows sitting along the wall. The town was foreign to his eyes, the small huts there lay packed in crowded streets. Tools lay scattered outside of the buildings as if the workers had gone without taking their possessions. Hraki walked down the main street toward the tower, which loomed down on the town from the slope at its end. The doors and windows of the houses banged in the wind as Hraki made his way under the creaking shop signs.

A loud cawing came from behind one of the huts as he walked over a pile of tools and broken fencing through a narrow path between the houses. Lying haphazardly across an allotment was a man being picked at by crows who darted away as Hraki passed them.

This land is gripped by death He thought, wondering if he would find anyone living there at all. He peered through the dirty windows of the house as the crows descended in a flurry of beating wings to resume their ghoulish feast.

The houses had been ransacked and Hraki pushed aside a broken door and stepped inside over the cabinets littering the floor. He heaved the table upright and placed a chair by it. A cooked pig dangled from a metal hook on the kitchen ceiling and swayed in the breeze. The pig stank of vinegar and flies buzzed around it as a maggot fell from the eye socket. Hraki hardly cared as he took it in both hands and began biting great pieces from it. He stepped back into town tossing the pig aside when he was full. Undoing his scarf and hood, Hraki let the rain run over his face as it drizzled around him. Hello He shouted, where are they? Hraki wandered from house to house looking in through the windows. All were in the same state as the first; ransacked and empty. He spun around in the centre of the town and spoke out loud, Is this the town of crows and flies? Do the dead not rest in graves here? Hraki wiped the rain from his face as he went over towards the tower.

A heavy wooden door lay at the bottom of the tower and Hraki heaved it open. The air that came from within was thick and dank and seemed to creep past him as he stepped inside. The tower opened up at the bottom into a round hall with a staircase spiralling up its wall. A mosaic lay in the centre of the floor of a fantastic beast set within a shield. Its body was that of a goat, but with a long barbed tail which was covered in scales. Debris littered the ground and Hraki stepped over it to begin climbing the staircase.

The staircase was narrow and his breathing was heavy in that confined space. The tower stank of dust and stone yet there was an altogether more unpleasant smell that came from up the staircase. Reaching the next floor, Hraki swung the door open which creaked aside to reveal a man lying on the table with a spear through his chest. He wore a tabard over a thick tunic and his helmet had fallen to the floor. Hraki went over to the man and wrenched the spear free from the body. There was a thick casket nearby and Hraki pulled the man inside of it, sealing it shut, thinking to bury him later.

No way for a man to die He thought as he pushed the casket into the corner of the room. Hraki sat on the only chair still standing amidst the others which lay thrown in disarray. He sat staring at the casket for a moment before resting his head in his hands, a quiet whispering filling his mind.

A hallowed wind chants round the base

A fortress here of stubborn faith

That stands above a shore of stone

Where once sounds to its ears did loan

Flights of fear, fervour or fancy

Left hollow halls of hallowed walls

A dry ring where once was moat

Now ivy creeps about its throat

Rooms are in abandoned haste

Lie strewn in absent chaos

A dryness in the air to taste

And the hand of age to taunt us

Whatever Gods once prayed to here

Lie smothered in their beds I fear

The fort itself a monastery

Though now only for heresy

The words seemed to echo round the stone walls of the room before stopping deadly silent as he heard a noise. Outside the tower, sounds of banging and clinking metal and the thudding of heavy footsteps grew louder. Hraki stood up, his heart racing and peered through the window, but could only see over the river. He ran down the staircase until he came to a window overlooking the town to see thirty men coming towards the tower. Their long hair was matted and knotted, stuck to their heads and shoulders.

Hraki ran back up the stairs and into the room, looking around frantically. A sword rested by the helmet of the dead warrior and Hraki reached down and grabbed it before rushing down the staircase. If only he could make it outside before they arrived, before he was trapped in the tower.

When he reached the doorway, the sun blinded him and he hastily looked around at the men who stood before him. Hraki stared at the wooden wall which he now realised was far too high to climb over. With no chance of escape, Hraki anxiously gripped the handle of his sword. The men formed a ring around him and Hraki backed into the tower, the light disappearing as the shadows descended.

Chapter 3

Within the council chamber Prince Halik sat listening to the noblemen talking and laughing amongst themselves. He stared at the king’s throne, which lay empty since the king had caught fever and died. Halik tried to remember exactly what his uncle had looked like but he could not even remember his face.

The doors to the chamber were pulled open by the retainers as the Lord Protector strode in and sat next to Halik. He was older than any of the others present; his greying hair and beard was a distinct comparison to the clean shaven, well groomed nobles. A suit of armour rattled under his tabard as he shuffled in the chair. He had assumed the role of king as a temporary replacement; a steward until the heir to the throne came of age.

Idal squirmed in his chair, adjusting his armour to sit more comfortably as all eyes began scrutinising him. The king had died leaving only a nephew for an heir, too young to take the throne for himself. Halik was only eleven years old and Idal looked sternly down at him. He cleared his throat and took a swig of wine from the table.

Let the meeting commence Idal said as he struck the table with the king’s sceptre. Lord Jorit, you may begin.

Irinar sees steady progress and a good steady growth. A small man wearing a deep red shirt said as he began filling his goblet with more wine.

As it would The man opposite him added. As would any lord whose sister in law was Lady Sera.

You sound bitter Jorit laughed, looking over at his sister in law and back at the man.

Idal rubbed his eyes as he listened, Last I heard Raegen, Lady Sera paid her taxes.

The man scowled at Idal from behind his hands before cutting off the next speaker, And what will happen when all free trade exists under her monopoly? Where will honest landowners turn to if not the council?

Noblemen around the table mumbled in agreement as Jorit continued, Turn as you like, the Gods care not which way a beetle walks. Jorit replied to the laughter of the other council members.

Raegen stood from his chair anger flashing across his face as he pointed his finger and spat vehemently Laugh Jorit until you throw away your good fortune as you are consumed by hubris.

And laugh I shall, dear Raegen, so long as fine jesters like yourself do join our council. Jorit added as the man sat down to the murmurs of the crowd.

Enough now. Is there any other business? Idal asked as The High Priest raised two fingers in the air, Yes Princeps he said, motioning for him to speak.

We make good progress in the north He said pausing to rub his neck. The caverns underneath Wardeme are being mined as we speak and we have uncovered most interesting things. Who knows what we may unearth before the seasons change. The other nobles listened intently as he continued. I simply wish to remind those present that it is forbidden by Temple decree to venture to the garrison town or the surrounding area. Remind your subjects, as it would be a shame for anyone to find themselves in the castle prison on account of their ignorance.

The Master at Arms raised his hand and stepped forward before speaking to Idal directly. Another reminder Lord Idal that your presence is requested in the Eastern Province to meet with the army.

Are you well Idal? Halik asked turning to Idal to which he nodded and held his hand up for him to be silent.

I assume it will meet with the council’s approval for me to take Prince Halik with me? Idal asked as the High Priest shook his head.

He shall be safe in the castle in your absence The High Priest responded, before whispering to his attendants and looking back to Idal. His attendance is required at the festival of St Daenard, besides it would be a needless risk to take him with you.

Safe Idal thought bitterly, Halik is far from safe. Yet Idal was powerless to question the authority of the High Priest.

Standing from his seat, Idal bowed, Gentlemen. Then turning to Halik, he motioned for him to follow. They strode out of the chamber and heard the talking begin to rise as they left. They must have been plotting this for months Idal thought, grinding his teeth together.

When will you leave? Halik asked inquisitively.

Soon, Is all Idal said in reply, thinking to himself that it would be a miracle if the boy survived the month.

His face was both worn and tired and he desperately needed a good night’s rest. Idal had led the men at arms for seven years, and worked as a guard before that. He’d been a close ally to the king and had seen enough intrigue and scheming to keep him cynical in the face of such people.

Halik gloomily turned away, sensing the burden that had been placed on him and paced out of the corridor. As Halik went to his family, Idal strode through the palace halls. He nodded to two of the guards that stood watch by the entrance to the corridor and stretched out in the main hall. It was a good castle, and much grander still when the king had held his ceremonies in it. The banners of the royal house flew in the archways of the roof, and Idal wondered to himself whether they would be flying when he next returned.

Across the hall a narrow corridor led through to a courtyard and into a small chapel. The chapel’s courtyard was a serene spot in the cold stone castle. Ornately carved pillars and neatly tended shrubbery lay on either side of the paved path. When he entered the chapel itself, surrounded by the wooden benches and ancient sculptures of the Gods and Saints, he knelt on one knee before the statue of Aeschellos.

What seemed like hours passed in his thoughts. Images, and scenarios; the possibilities, one by one lay before his mind. If he took the boy north, south, east or west; there seemed no escape. It was futile. It had come to the point of damage limitation. They were both in danger, survival was the first objective. A loud groan from the hallway awoke the Lord Protector from his thoughts. A man screamed in pain. He ran out of the courtyard and down the main hall towards the noise. The council chamber was full of loud murmurs as the nobility flocked around the open door for a better look. The High Priest was being dragged by his attendants back to his quarters, restraining him, as he convulsed in their arms. Idal stood within earshot and could hear as he struggled and uttered such strange things.

Take me to my chamber! The priest shouted and screamed, mumbling and spluttering obsenities as he was carried off down a corridor. The last thing Idal saw of the High Priest was one of his attendants shoving a cloth into his mouth.

He stood for a moment musing on whether to follow, but something kept him rooted where he was standing. The darker side of the ecclesiastical was enough to make his skin crawl. Idal wanted nothing to do with shivering priests who spouted nonsense and convulsed like men possessed. Besides he had no love for the High Priest and as blasphemous as it may have been, he would have little minded should the attendants have been dragging him off to slit his throat.

From down a corridor behind him, Idal heard footsteps coming his way. Out of the archway jogged one of the guards who had served under Idal during the previous fall. He came closer looking carefully around him as he approached. The two men embraced as they met.

Many days have passed since I met Rulen Hale in the castle. Idal said with a smile.

I now serve Lord Jorit as acting Captain, escorting him from Irinar.

And how does it pay to serve a noble?

To speak frankly it pays well, though I truly wonder how my lord skulks about in the night as if by cloak and dagger. Though mostly I guard a man who frequents brothels while his wife sleeps. Rulen said as the two men laughed.

What keeps you up so late Rulen? Out of my men you never did seem to sleep.

Where is the prince?

With his family, it is late to be paying a visit.

I’m sorry for my rudeness Idal, but we should walk to his chamber. I wish to talk. By the look in Rulen’s eyes, Idal knew something was wrong.

Walking In silence to the hall before Halik’s family chamber, Idal stopped with his hand on the door to prevent it being opened.

What is on your mind Rulen, Idal said with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Something I have overheard Jorit discussing. There is much talk of late. Plotting, scheming, plans I have heard fragments of.

Speak Plainly Rulen, what have you heard?

Jorit has mentioned that some of his men were going to dispose of a boy tonight. It is all too clear that Halik is the boy they speak of. With him gone, Jorit could even claim some lineage of his own.

Are you sure of this?

"I fear they plan to murder him as soon as