The Dark Warden (Book 6) (37 page)

“For now?” said Ridmark. “Then we will meet again?”

“Perhaps,” said Ardrhythain. “The shadows of some of our potential futures cross once more.”

“Farewell, Ridmark of the Arbanii,” said Rhyannis with a bow. “Remember this, whatever befalls you. Do not despair. There is always hope. You taught me that in the depths of Urd Morlemoch, and if it can be true there, it is true everywhere.” 

She stepped to Ardrhythain’s side, her golden armor gleaming in the harsh light of the molten stone surrounding Urd Morlemoch, and the archmage gestured. White light flashed, and both high elves vanished, leaving Ridmark atop the hill. 

He looked around for a moment, unsure of himself. He was exhausted, but he had returned to Urd Morlemoch after nine years, and he had come out alive again. He knew what to do next, of course, but if he survived that, and then…

Hope. He felt hope. 

Ridmark lay down next to Morigna and went to sleep.

###

“We need,” said Ridmark the next morning, “to decide what to do next.”

Two days had passed, and they had spent most of them asleep. Ardrhythain’s ward still shimmered and flickered at the edges of the hilltop, and Ridmark had seen no trace of any foes. Given that the Torn Hills around Urd Morlemoch were still a seething, molten sea, Ridmark was not surprised. He wondered if the catastrophic forces the Warden and Ardrhythain had unleashed had permanently altered the landscape, if the Torn Hills would now encircle a lake of molten stone with Urd Morlemoch rising from its center like an island. 

“Well,” said Jager, “I vote for breakfast.” 

“After that,” said Ridmark. “We must decide what all of us will do.” 

They stood in silence for a moment. 

“Is it not obvious?” said Calliande. She looked far stronger than she had two days ago. Sleep had done wonders for her. More, there was a light in her blue eyes that had not been there before they had entered Urd Morlemoch. Calliande had not recovered her memory, but she knew who she was and what she had to do. “Khald Azalar and Dragonfall.” 

“Aye,” said Ridmark, “for you. And I will accompany you. But the others have no such bond upon them.” 

“What do you mean?” said Caius.

“You all promised to follow me into Urd Morlemoch, despite my efforts to convince you otherwise,” said Ridmark. 

“Just as well that you did not,” said Morigna. “Without our aid you would have died long before you had come anywhere near Urd Morlemoch.”

“If Mara and I had not accompanied you,” said Jager, “we would still be imprisoned atop the Warden’s tower, and the Warden would be conquering Old Earth.”

“You only accompanied us,” said Morigna, “because you were foolish enough to steal from Tarrabus Carhaine.” 

Jager grinned at her. “Does not the Lord work in mysterious ways his wonders to perform, Brother Caius?”

“This is so,” said Caius. 

“Regardless of how we got here,” said Ridmark, staving off the argument, “it is done. We went into Urd Morlemoch, and we actually came out alive again. We found what we came to find. We know how the Frostborn are returning, we know where Calliande’s staff is, and more importantly, we know how to stop the Frostborn.” He looked at each of them. “If you feel any debt or obligation to me, it is discharged.” 

“Nevertheless, you shall require my help,” said Kharlacht. “The way to Khald Azalar lies through the hills of Vhaluusk. I am familiar with the country and its dangers, and have contacts among the tribes there. Furthermore, the road to Khald Azalar passes through a place called the Vale of Stone Death. You shall require a guide.”

“Sounds a pleasant place,” said Jager. 

“This task is only halfway completed,” said Kharlacht. “I will see it through to the end.” He looked at Ridmark and Calliande. “You are going to Khald Azalar and Dragonfall, and I shall accompany you.”

“As will I,” said Caius. “The Frostborn will return unless we act, and all men of good conscience must join forces to stop them.” 

“Thank you,” said Calliande. “I will be glad to have you with us.”

“What of you, Sir Arandar?” said Ridmark. “You found Truthseeker and the skull of Judicaeus Carhaine. I thought that you and Sir Gavin,” the boy reddened a bit at that, “might wish to return to Tarlion to win your son’s freedom and to formally induct Gavin into the Order.”

“I considered it,” said Arandar, “but your words were correct earlier. If we return now, Tarrabus will merely find another way to kill me and my children. Gavin, too, likely. Furthermore, I have no right to command Sir Gavin, and he wishes to accompany you on your quest.”

“I do,” said Gavin. “With Truthseeker, perhaps we shall have better chances than we did before.” 

“With two Swordbearers, we shall,” said Calliande.

“Brother Caius is right,” said Arandar. “The Frostborn are the gravest threat the realm has faced in centuries, as are the Enlightened of Incariel. If I forsake you now and the Frostborn return to destroy the realm, what sort of world shall I leave to Accolon and Nyvane? No. I am with you as well.” He bowed to Calliande. “For was it not the Keeper of Avalon who journeyed to Cathair Solas and convinced Ardrhythain to found the Two Orders? Was it not the Keeper who led us against the urdmordar during the great siege of Tarlion?”

Calliande offered a grave nod in reply, and for a moment Ridmark caught a glimpse of what she might have been like in the fullness of her power. “I am glad of your help, Sir Arandar. And of yours as well, Sir Gavin.” She smiled. “We have come a long way from Aranaeus, have we not?”

“Aye,” said Gavin. “I shall never get used to people calling me Sir Gavin.”

“Oh, you had better get used to it,” said Jager. “If we live through this and return to the High Kingdom…”

“Actually, I’ve never been to Andomhaim,” said Gavin.

“Oh. Well, then. When you come to Andomhaim for the first time,” said Jager, “you’ll have the commoners scraping and bowing and calling you ‘my lord’ and ‘my lord knight’ and a dozen other honorifics. But never forget who you are!” He pointed at Gavin. “And never forget that you cannot beat me at dice.”

“You cheat,” said Gavin and Kharlacht and Morigna in unison. 

“Better than you do,” said Jager. “Which proves my point.”

“I…do not see how,” said Calliande. 

“You and Mara can depart, if you wish,” said Ridmark. “Our bargain is done. You helped us recover the soulstone from Tarrabus, and we helped you rescue Mara from the Iron Tower.”

“This is true,” said Jager. “I am a man of my word, after all. And I would very, very much like to return to Andomhaim and live in comfort.”

“As befits a man of your status,” said Ridmark.

“Exactly,” said Jager. “I am glad you understand.” He hesitated. “But…well, I suspect returning to the realm at this particular moment would be unwise. Tarrabus Carhaine likely still has a grudge against me, what with the soulstone and all.”

“And blowing up the Iron Tower,” added Mara.

“That too, that too,” said Jager. “So, it occurs to me, that if I return to Andomhaim now, I’ll get killed. But if I return in triumph with the Keeper of Avalon restored to her powers, one of the noble heroes who dared great deeds in defense of the realm…I suppose I shall have a rather more pleasant welcome.”

“We are with you,” said Mara. 

“Thank you,” said Calliande.

Ridmark looked at Morigna. “And you?” He hesitated, unsure of what to say. “We saved your life at Moraime, and you promised to see me to Urd Morlemoch and back. You need not go…”

“Wherever you go,” said Morigna, her voice quiet, “I am going to follow.” 

Ridmark nodded. Those simple words, spoken without Jager’s grandiloquence or Caius’s stately oratory, cheered him more than he would have thought possible. 

“I would be remiss,” said Arandar, “if I did not say that I felt Morigna using dark magic during the fight.”

“As did I,” said Gavin, and Calliande offered a slow nod as well. 

Morigna frowned. Ridmark expected her to fly into a rage, but her voice remained cool. “When Mara and I freed you from the menhirs, I had to absorb the power from one of the soulstones.” She tapped the pouch at Ridmark’s belt, the pouch that held the rough soulstone from Urd Morlemoch. “Would you have preferred that I left you there?” They had no answer for that. “I am not going to raise undead, enslave the minds of the innocent, or gather an army of pagan orcs and descend upon your precious High Kingdom. I will not use dark magic, even if it is part of me now. Is that enough for you?”

“I suppose it shall have to be,” said Arandar, though he did not look pleased.

“Then it seems,” said Jager, “we are bound for Khald Azalar.”

“And Dragonfall,” said Calliande. 

“Come,” said Ridmark, beckoning with Ardrhythain’s staff.

He crossed the ward and started down the hill, heading east for Vhaluusk and Khald Azalar. 

To Dragonfall, where Calliande’s staff and memory awaited.

Epilogue

The forests upon the western edge of Vhaluusk were cool and quiet. After the spell-haunted Torn Hills, that suited Morigna just fine.

When they finally finished, she climbed off Ridmark and lay on her side next to him, her heart thundering in her ears, her breathing hard and fast, sweat beading on her bare back. They had not lain together since their first night in the Torn Hills, and Morigna had looked forward to their arrival in Vhaluusk for more reasons than one. Vhaluusk was just as dangerous as the rest of the Wilderland, torn between warring tribes of orcs, haunted by creatures of the dark elves, and raided by the denizens of the Deeps.

But it was not nearly as dangerous as the Torn Hills, which meant they could afford a little distraction.

“I am always amazed,” she murmured, “that you can walk all day, and have the stamina for this when we stop at night.”

He murmured something incoherent and kissed her, and a moment later had fallen asleep, his breathing slow and steady. Morigna let out a quiet little laugh. Stamina or not, even Ridmark had limits, and she had exhausted him past them. She kissed him and slipped away from his grasp, pulling up their cloaks to cover him.

She stood unclad in the night, and it did not trouble her in the slightest.

For she felt strong, stronger than she ever had, and she knew in her bones that there was nothing in this forest that could hurt her.

Morigna lifted the fingers of her right hand, watching the blue flames curl and dance at her will. She had promised not to use the power she had taken from Urd Morlemoch, but that had been a lie to keep that fool Arandar and Gavin from bothering her. The power she had taken was growing stronger, and she was becoming stronger with it.

Why had she been so afraid of dark magic? It was simply another form of power and nothing more. Coriolus and the Artificer and the Warden had abused their power, but Morigna would put hers to better use. With it, she would help Calliande recover her staff and defeat the Frostborn. With it, she would destroy the Enlightened of Incariel.

And when Ridmark returned to Andomhaim, she would use her power to help him rise high, with her at his side as he brought the realm to order.

Morigna looked from the fire in her hand to the shadows of the forest.

They seemed darker, deeper, richer than they ever had been.

It was as if they were speaking to her.

With her power, the shadows said, she could be strong. She could keep those she loved safe. She could destroy the Enlightened and free men everywhere from want and pain, if she but heeded them.

Morigna stood in the darkness, listening as the shadows whispered secrets to her.

THE END

Thank you for reading FROSTBORN: THE DARK WARDEN Look for Ridmark's next adventure, FROSTBORN: THE GORGON SPIRIT, to appear in early 2015. If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review at your ebook site of choice. To receive immediate notification of new releases,
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The Dominiar Order and the Justiciar Order were once noble and respected, dedicated to fighting the powers of dark magic. Now they are corrupt and cynical, and scheme only for power and glory. They will kill anyone who stands in their way.

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For centuries the Old Demon has manipulated kings and lords. Now he shall seize the power of the Demonsouled for himself, and become the a god of torment and tyranny.

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Read 
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