Frostborn: The Master Thief Read Online Free Page A

hand. She gestured, and a column of swirling white mist appeared around one of the orcs. The orc fell, his screams fading as Morigna’s acidic mist ate into his flesh. 
    But still the Kothluuskan orcs attacked in furious waves.
    Ridmark’s friends and the dwarves were holding, but sooner or later sheer numbers would overwhelm them.
    Unless Ridmark acted.
    He looked at Calliande, who nodded and cast a spell. White light pulsed from her fingers, and some of it sank into Ridmark, a similar white glow flaring around the others. Ridmark felt the magic tighten around him, making him faster. A ripple of surprise went through the orcs, and some of them turned towards the source of the white light.
    Ridmark took the opportunity to move.
    He dashed into the orcs, his staff a blur, and killed one of the warriors before the others could react. The Mhorite orcs bellowed in fury, and several more turned to face him, swords and spears in hand. A spear stabbed towards Ridmark’s face, and he knocked it aside with a sharp blow of the staff, reversed the weapon, and drove it into the orc’s gut. The warrior doubled over, and Ridmark knocked him to the ground. He pivoted, twisted, and whipped his staff around in a wide arc, the blow landing with enough force to crush another orcish warrior’s skull. 
    Kharlacht bellowed a war cry, bringing his sword around to strike down another foe, and the four armored dwarves shouted something in their harsh language. Together they surged forward, attacking the Kothluuskan orcs. The orcish warriors wavered, some turning to face Kharlacht and the dwarves, some turning toward Ridmark and Calliande.
    Ridmark raced to meet their assault, striking right and left with his staff.
     
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    Morigna drew on her power, the magic of the earth rushing up from the ground to fill her with strength. She prepared to strike, to drive the very elements of the earth against her foes. 
    Yet she hesitated for just a moment.
    It was not mercy that stayed her hand. Anyone who attacked her forfeited their right to live. And she had encountered the orcs of Kothluusk before, and she knew firsthand how brutal and ruthless they were. No, killing them would not cost her even a moment of guilt or regret. 
    But the sight of Ridmark made her hesitate. 
    He was deadly. The orcs of Kothluusk were capable fighters, but Ridmark moved through them like a wolf through dogs, his staff a dark blur in his hands. Time and time again the orcs came close to striking at him, but at the last instant he stepped aside, his staff crashing home to crush bone and crack skulls. He made it look easy, so easy, yet Morigna knew that was an illusion created by talent wedded to experience and disciplined skill. 
    And with that prowess he had saved her life. 
    For a moment Morigna could not look away from him, this man who had saved her life, who had dared great odds and emerged victorious again and again. 
    Then she rebuked herself with a hint of disgust. She was like some village peasant girl mooning over a handsome knight. 
    And the middle of a battle was not the place to indulge in such thoughts.
    Morigna thrust out her free hand and focused her will, her thoughts shaping and directing the power she had summoned. 
    The spell poured into the ground, and the earth rippled like a banner caught in the wind. The distortion flowed around the dwarves and Kharlacht and Caius and the others, but focused on the Kothluuskan orcs. The force of her spell knocked a dozen of them from their feet, and Caius and Kharlacht seized the opportunity, killing three orcs in as many heartbeats. One of the dwarves looked at her askance – Morigna knew little of the dwarves, but she did know they regarded any magic not wielded by their stonescribes with suspicion. 
    Well, that was their problem, not hers. And their suspicion of her magic did not stop them from taking advantage of the opportunity she had created, striking their heavy axes and maces of dwarven steel.