Frostborn: The World Gate Read Online Free Page B

Gavin fell in behind her, soulblades ready, the swords shining with power to her Sight. They had taken to guarding her lately, watching over her as the Keeper of Andomhaim. She found it touching…and given how many of Shadowbearer’s minions sought her death, she also found it reassuring. 
    The ruined gate faced east towards the forest, and as Calliande approached, she saw two figures climbing up the slope of the hill. One was Morigna, her bow in hand, her tattered cloak streaming behind her. The other was Ridmark, and he hurried up the hill with speed and confidence. A peculiar shiver of emotion went through Calliande at the sight of him. He was the only man she had ever kissed, though she had not known it at the time. She had been in love as a girl, centuries ago, but that had come to nothing…and that had been a childish infatuation compared to what she felt when she looked at Ridmark.
    Calliande shoved aside the thought. She was the Keeper of Andomhaim, and she had a duty. Her life was not her own, and she had to defeat Shadowbearer, stop the return of the Frostborn, and root out the Enlightened of Incariel from Andomhaim. How she felt about Ridmark Arban had nothing to do with any of her tasks.
    Besides, he was in love with Morigna. 
    Though Calliande would always, always regret that on the day they had kissed, that they had not been left uninterrupted, that they had not…
    “What news, Gray Knight?” said Arandar. 
    Again Calliande pushed aside the maudlin thoughts, this time with success. There was work to be done. 
    “Mara was right,” said Ridmark, his voice grim. “Those were indeed arachar orcs moving through the trees.”
    “Were you able to avoid them?” said Calliande. 
    “No,” said Ridmark. “They proved craftier than I hoped.”
    “Craftier, perhaps,” said Morigna with a sharp smile, “but not as battle-crafty. We left a dozen slain in our wake, and none escaped to warn their false goddess.”
    “False goddess?” said Caius, his marble-like blue eyes twinkling. “Dare I hope that you have come to the Dominus Christus at last?”
    Morigna scoffed. “The arachar pray to a giant spider-demon. Whatever our differences, Brother Caius, I am sure we can agree that an urdmordar is an unworthy object of worship.”
    “You’re in agreement on…anything?” said Jager, feigning astonishment. “If I look skyward, shall I see rain falling upwards and winged pigs soaring aloft?”
    “The world will truly end,” said Morigna, “when some crisis arises and you do not have a glib remark ready at hand.” 
    “Enough,” said Ridmark before Jager could fire back. “None of the arachar escaped. We are maybe a half-day from the banks of the River Moradel, if my reckoning is correct. If we hasten, we can avoid the urdmordar’s demesne and make our way to the river without drawing her notice. From there we follow the river south to Dun Licinia and Black Mountain.”
    “I fear,” said Calliande, “that may not be possible.”
    “Why not?” said Ridmark.
    “A shroud of dark magic hangs over the forest,” said Antenora. “I have never seen its like…”
    “Nor have I,” said Calliande.
    “Given that the three of you all have the Sight,” said Morigna, “one hopes that you could come to a quicker consensus.” 
    “I think the dark magic is a kind of ward,” said Mara, unruffled as ever by Morigna’s barbs. “Think of a spider’s web. If a fly lands upon the strands of the web, the spider knows.”
    “Then this shroud of dark magic is such a web?” said Caius.
    “I think,” said Calliande, “that the dark magic detects any blood spilled within the forest.” 
    “That,” said Ridmark, “could be a…”
    A chorus of furious cries erupted from the trees, and Ridmark whirled, his staff coming up. Dark shapes burst from the forest at the base of the hill, steel glinting in the morning sun. There were orcish warriors, dozens of them, and Calliande’s Sight saw the faint taint