daughter from a man like Tarrabus Carhaine!” He shook his head, striking his fist against Heartwarden’s pommel, which sent a flicker of pain through Ridmark’s skull. “What can I do? Even if I am successful, he will find another ruse to use against me. Perhaps I should return and try to free my son or die in the attempt.”
“No,” said Ridmark. “There is a better way. If you retrieve Truthseeker, you can force Tarrabus to release your son. Once he is safe, we can move against him.”
“We?” said Arandar. “You would help me?”
“We fight different faces of the same evil,” said Ridmark. “I seek to stop the return of the Frostborn. You seek to rescue your son from Tarrabus Carhaine. But Tarrabus is the head of the Enlightened of Incariel, and they are working with Shadowbearer to bring about the return of the Frostborn.”
“If you have doubts, Sir Arandar,” said Caius, “know that Ridmark is a bold warrior, and we would not have come so far without his help.”
“Indeed,” said Calliande. “He has saved each of our lives, often more than once.”
“I do not doubt your valor, Ridmark Arban,” said Arandar. “I was certain the day was lost at Dun Licinia, yet you rallied the host and defeated Mhalek’s horde.” He looked at them. “I do not know whom to trust. You saved my life, but…you are an exiled Swordbearer and his band of renegades. The outcasts of the realm. I am to turn to you for help?”
“You can turn to no one in the realm for help,” said Ridmark, “because the realm has been corrupted.” He remembered the taunts of Agrimnalazur and Coriolus, their warnings that the High Kingdom of Andomhaim had rotted and would soon fall. “If Tarrabus Carhaine and his closest vassals are Enlightened, their reach will be long. If you are to obtain help, if you are to save your children, then you shall have to accept help from outside the realm of Andomhaim.”
“Such as our merry little band of rogues,” said Jager.
Arandar looked at the night sky. “I have heard it said that neither a man’s titles nor his name nor his wealth are the truest signs of his character, but what he does. Tarrabus Carhaine is a Dux of Andomhaim, yet he has tried to destroy my family. You are an exile, yet you saved my life. Very well. I will help you enter Urd Morlemoch, if you help me obtain Truthseeker and free my son from Tarrabus’s grasp.”
“So be it,” said Ridmark. “Everyone should get some rest. I fear the road will only grow more difficult from here.”
Chapter 7 - The Devout
Four days passed.
Ridmark led the way through the gullies and ravines of the Torn Hills. The strange, sickly grasses rustled in the endless wind blowing from the west, the misshapen trees jutting from the slopes like the moss-covered fingers of a corpse. From time to time the deformed ravens perched upon the branches, cawing. Something like slime coated their feathers, yet the birds had no trouble flying. Their black eyes gleamed with a pale blue glow, like the fires wreathing the central tower of Urd Morlemoch, and Ridmark understood why Morigna was unable to control them as she could natural ravens.
The sun never came out, and the sky grew steadily darker, the clouds more agitated, the closer they came to the walls of Urd Morlemoch.
Four more times they encountered echoes of ancient necromantic spells. Twice they encountered roving packs of urvaalgs. In every fight they made short work of their foes, destroying the undead and cutting down the creatures. Arandar and Heartwarden proved most effective against the creatures of dark magic, and the Swordbearer’s aid made the battles far easier than they would have been otherwise.
That helped cut down on the tension between Arandar and the rest of Ridmark’s companions. Morigna’s initial dislike of the Swordbearer had not waned, a dislike that was repaid in full. Arandar had fought the shamans of the Mhorite orcs of Kothluusk, and seemed to
“No,” said Ridmark. “There is a better way. If you retrieve Truthseeker, you can force Tarrabus to release your son. Once he is safe, we can move against him.”
“We?” said Arandar. “You would help me?”
“We fight different faces of the same evil,” said Ridmark. “I seek to stop the return of the Frostborn. You seek to rescue your son from Tarrabus Carhaine. But Tarrabus is the head of the Enlightened of Incariel, and they are working with Shadowbearer to bring about the return of the Frostborn.”
“If you have doubts, Sir Arandar,” said Caius, “know that Ridmark is a bold warrior, and we would not have come so far without his help.”
“Indeed,” said Calliande. “He has saved each of our lives, often more than once.”
“I do not doubt your valor, Ridmark Arban,” said Arandar. “I was certain the day was lost at Dun Licinia, yet you rallied the host and defeated Mhalek’s horde.” He looked at them. “I do not know whom to trust. You saved my life, but…you are an exiled Swordbearer and his band of renegades. The outcasts of the realm. I am to turn to you for help?”
“You can turn to no one in the realm for help,” said Ridmark, “because the realm has been corrupted.” He remembered the taunts of Agrimnalazur and Coriolus, their warnings that the High Kingdom of Andomhaim had rotted and would soon fall. “If Tarrabus Carhaine and his closest vassals are Enlightened, their reach will be long. If you are to obtain help, if you are to save your children, then you shall have to accept help from outside the realm of Andomhaim.”
“Such as our merry little band of rogues,” said Jager.
Arandar looked at the night sky. “I have heard it said that neither a man’s titles nor his name nor his wealth are the truest signs of his character, but what he does. Tarrabus Carhaine is a Dux of Andomhaim, yet he has tried to destroy my family. You are an exile, yet you saved my life. Very well. I will help you enter Urd Morlemoch, if you help me obtain Truthseeker and free my son from Tarrabus’s grasp.”
“So be it,” said Ridmark. “Everyone should get some rest. I fear the road will only grow more difficult from here.”
Chapter 7 - The Devout
Four days passed.
Ridmark led the way through the gullies and ravines of the Torn Hills. The strange, sickly grasses rustled in the endless wind blowing from the west, the misshapen trees jutting from the slopes like the moss-covered fingers of a corpse. From time to time the deformed ravens perched upon the branches, cawing. Something like slime coated their feathers, yet the birds had no trouble flying. Their black eyes gleamed with a pale blue glow, like the fires wreathing the central tower of Urd Morlemoch, and Ridmark understood why Morigna was unable to control them as she could natural ravens.
The sun never came out, and the sky grew steadily darker, the clouds more agitated, the closer they came to the walls of Urd Morlemoch.
Four more times they encountered echoes of ancient necromantic spells. Twice they encountered roving packs of urvaalgs. In every fight they made short work of their foes, destroying the undead and cutting down the creatures. Arandar and Heartwarden proved most effective against the creatures of dark magic, and the Swordbearer’s aid made the battles far easier than they would have been otherwise.
That helped cut down on the tension between Arandar and the rest of Ridmark’s companions. Morigna’s initial dislike of the Swordbearer had not waned, a dislike that was repaid in full. Arandar had fought the shamans of the Mhorite orcs of Kothluusk, and seemed to
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