Read Online The Dark Warden (Book 6) by Jonathan Moeller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jonathan Moeller
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second slammed into him, its claws raking at his cuirass. Yet his armor held, and the Swordbearer split the urhaalgar’s skull with a single blow of his sword.
“Come on, then!” roared the knight in Latin. “Come, then! Which of you devils is next? Who wishes to join his fellows in hell? Come! I have plenty for all!”
His voice was familiar. Ridmark was sure he had met the knight before, though he could not recall where. Yet if he did not hasten, the urhaalgars and the urshanes were going to kill him.
Ridmark went to join the others.
###
Calliande watched as Ridmark returned, his dwarven axe in hand.
“We need to hasten,” he said. “Mara, that knight you saw is a Swordbearer. He’s holding off a group of about thirty urhaalgars and two urshanes.”
“Alone?” said Caius. “The man must be a puissant warrior.”
“The urhaalgars are afraid of his soulblade,” said Ridmark, “but they won’t be for much longer. Sooner or later they’ll overwhelm him. Two urshanes are controlling the urhaalgars. I suspect if we kill them, the remainder of the urhaalgars will lose their nerve and flee.”
“You are right,” said Mara. “Urhaalgars are not like urvaalgs or ursaars. Certainly they have the same level of bloodlust, but they also have a healthy regard for their own skins. If we strike with overwhelming force, they will likely panic and run.”
“Calliande,” said Ridmark. “Can you enchant our weapons?”
“Of course,” said Calliande. “I think…I think I am now strong enough to do that and strike at the urshanes at the same time.”
Morigna frowned. “You never used to possess that kind of strength.”
Calliande shrugged. “The fighting at the Iron Tower was an ordeal. I came out of it stronger, just as a man who carries a heavy bundle every day for weeks will grow stronger.”
“Let us put that newfound strength to work,” said Ridmark. “Gavin, Caius, shield Calliande. If the urshanes figure out that she is a Magistria, they will try to kill her. Kharlacht, follow me and we’ll strike for the urshanes.” The big orc nodded, his face impassive, though his black eyes started to glimmer with the red rage of orcish battle fury. “Jager and Mara, keep the urhaalgars off-balance. Mind their stingers.”
Jager sighed. “We are going into battle as husband and wife. Perhaps some enterprising bard shall make a poem of it.”
“I would not wish to hear it,” said Morigna.
“Well,” said Jager with a smile, “the Witch of the Hills would be the villain of the…”
“Morigna,” said Ridmark. “Make trouble wherever you can.”
“You do have a gift for it,” said Jager.
“Jager,” said Mara with a sigh.
“The mockery of my inferiors aside,” said Morigna, “it shall be done.”
Ridmark nodded, and the others raised weapons or prepared spells. Again Calliande was amazed by how easily they obeyed him. He guided them to a purposeful whole, a whole that managed to face great odds and prevail. Calliande could indeed see why Morigna had fallen for him.
Why Calliande herself had fallen for him, if she was honest with herself.
She turned her mind to the business at hand. Perhaps Jager and Mara going into battle together would make for a bad poem, but it would be an even worse one if the urhaalgars killed them all. Calliande summoned power, the magic of the Well flooding through her, and directed it into a spell. White light burst from her fingers and jumped to the weapons of the others, sheathing them in an aura allowed the blades to wound creatures of dark magic. Holding the spell in place was a wearisome effort. Calliande could do it, but the longer she held the spell the greater the effort become.
Yet it was not as hard as it had been two months past. The magical battles she had fought had made her magic stronger, just as regular sword practice strengthened a knight’s muscles. She would have enough power left to strike directly at the creatures of
“Come on, then!” roared the knight in Latin. “Come, then! Which of you devils is next? Who wishes to join his fellows in hell? Come! I have plenty for all!”
His voice was familiar. Ridmark was sure he had met the knight before, though he could not recall where. Yet if he did not hasten, the urhaalgars and the urshanes were going to kill him.
Ridmark went to join the others.
###
Calliande watched as Ridmark returned, his dwarven axe in hand.
“We need to hasten,” he said. “Mara, that knight you saw is a Swordbearer. He’s holding off a group of about thirty urhaalgars and two urshanes.”
“Alone?” said Caius. “The man must be a puissant warrior.”
“The urhaalgars are afraid of his soulblade,” said Ridmark, “but they won’t be for much longer. Sooner or later they’ll overwhelm him. Two urshanes are controlling the urhaalgars. I suspect if we kill them, the remainder of the urhaalgars will lose their nerve and flee.”
“You are right,” said Mara. “Urhaalgars are not like urvaalgs or ursaars. Certainly they have the same level of bloodlust, but they also have a healthy regard for their own skins. If we strike with overwhelming force, they will likely panic and run.”
“Calliande,” said Ridmark. “Can you enchant our weapons?”
“Of course,” said Calliande. “I think…I think I am now strong enough to do that and strike at the urshanes at the same time.”
Morigna frowned. “You never used to possess that kind of strength.”
Calliande shrugged. “The fighting at the Iron Tower was an ordeal. I came out of it stronger, just as a man who carries a heavy bundle every day for weeks will grow stronger.”
“Let us put that newfound strength to work,” said Ridmark. “Gavin, Caius, shield Calliande. If the urshanes figure out that she is a Magistria, they will try to kill her. Kharlacht, follow me and we’ll strike for the urshanes.” The big orc nodded, his face impassive, though his black eyes started to glimmer with the red rage of orcish battle fury. “Jager and Mara, keep the urhaalgars off-balance. Mind their stingers.”
Jager sighed. “We are going into battle as husband and wife. Perhaps some enterprising bard shall make a poem of it.”
“I would not wish to hear it,” said Morigna.
“Well,” said Jager with a smile, “the Witch of the Hills would be the villain of the…”
“Morigna,” said Ridmark. “Make trouble wherever you can.”
“You do have a gift for it,” said Jager.
“Jager,” said Mara with a sigh.
“The mockery of my inferiors aside,” said Morigna, “it shall be done.”
Ridmark nodded, and the others raised weapons or prepared spells. Again Calliande was amazed by how easily they obeyed him. He guided them to a purposeful whole, a whole that managed to face great odds and prevail. Calliande could indeed see why Morigna had fallen for him.
Why Calliande herself had fallen for him, if she was honest with herself.
She turned her mind to the business at hand. Perhaps Jager and Mara going into battle together would make for a bad poem, but it would be an even worse one if the urhaalgars killed them all. Calliande summoned power, the magic of the Well flooding through her, and directed it into a spell. White light burst from her fingers and jumped to the weapons of the others, sheathing them in an aura allowed the blades to wound creatures of dark magic. Holding the spell in place was a wearisome effort. Calliande could do it, but the longer she held the spell the greater the effort become.
Yet it was not as hard as it had been two months past. The magical battles she had fought had made her magic stronger, just as regular sword practice strengthened a knight’s muscles. She would have enough power left to strike directly at the creatures of
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