Frostborn: The Undying Wizard Read Online Free Page A

bronze-colored mace began to glow, and both Kharlacht’s greatsword and Gavin’s orcish blade began to radiate white light. Gavin blinked in surprise and set himself, his shield upon his left arm. 
    As one, the undead orcs turned to look at Calliande, their ghostly eyes staring at her.
    They felt the power of her spell.
    “Kharlacht, Caius, with me,” said Ridmark, lifting his glowing staff, his voice icy calm. “Gavin, shield Lady Calliande and deal with any orcs that get past us.”
    He strode forward, the orcish warrior and the dwarven friar following.
     
    ###
     
    The staff thrummed with Calliande’s magic beneath Ridmark’s hands.
    It brought back a storm of memories. Once Ridmark had been a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade, a Swordbearer, and he had carried the soulblade Heartwarden into battle. With that sword he had slain the urdmordar Gothalinzur, entered Urd Morlemoch and escaped, and defeated the Mhalekite horde.
    With Heartwarden he had struck down Mhalek himself.
    And then Aelia had died. 
    Ridmark walked toward the charging undead, the staff ready in his right hand. The power of Calliande’s magic was not as strong as Heartwarden’s. The soulblade had blazed like a torch in Ridmark’s fist, and with the sword Ridmark had cut a path through creatures of dark magic. The staff shone with a gentle glow, its vibrations weaker.
    But more than enough to destroy the undead. 
    The first creature came at him, raising a rusted mace to strike, and Ridmark moved. 
    He dodged the blow, the staff a white blur in his hand. Normal weapons could not harm the undead, but the staff had been charged with Calliande’s magic, and his strike shattered the bones of the creature’s weapon hand. The mace fell into the grass and rolled away, and Ridmark reversed his weapon and jabbed the undead in the gut. The creature did not need to breathe and felt no pain, but the power of Ridmark’s blow knocked the undead orc back a step.
    He whipped the staff around and drove its length into the undead orc’s head. The tusked skull exploded in a burst of yellowing bone. The blue flames winked out, and the corpse collapsed into pieces, the bones tumbling away.
    Three more reached for him, and Ridmark charged into them.
    Most of the knights of Andomhaim looked down upon the quarterstaff, seeing it as the weapon of commoners, of freeholders and laborers. A true knight with a sword, they believed, could overcome a peasant armed with a staff.
    Ridmark knew better. 
    He deflected a descending sword with a sweep of his staff, pivoted, and spun his weapon around. The staff’s heavy length crashed into the back of an undead orc’s knee, and the creature toppled. Ridmark’s next blow slammed into the crown of its head, and the weight of his strike shattered the undead orc’s skull, pieces of its rusted helmet falling away. He dodged the swing of a heavy axe and brought the staff down upon the undead orc’s arms before it recovered its balance. The bones cracked and splintered, the axe falling away, and Ridmark dispatched the creature with a sharp swing to the head. The last orc raised its sword for a final strike, and Ridmark moved before it could launch the blow, knocking the weapon aside. The creature lunged at him with skeletal fingers, but Ridmark sidestepped and swung his staff with both hands. The skull popped off the neck and soared through the air, tumbling jaw over forehead, and landed with a splash in a pool. The body staggered forward and disintegrated into loose bones and rotting flesh.
    Ridmark spun, intending to aid either Kharlacht or Caius if they were hard-pressed. 
    But neither one needed his help. Kharlacht carved his way through the undead orcs like a butcher cutting meat. He wielded his greatsword with massive arcs, every blow shearing through a skeletal neck or skull. Few undead drew close enough to harm him, and when they did he stepped back or allowed their blows to shatter against his dark elven armor.