Frostborn: The Eightfold Knife Read Online Free PDF Page B

place, pressing it against Rakhaag’s neck and wrists. The lupivir gurgled as the staff sank into his neck. He bucked and heaved, trying to regain his feet. Yet Rakhaag had no leverage, and he began to wheeze, his tongue lashing at his fangs.
    “Yield,” said Ridmark.
    Rakhaag tried to snarl. 
    “Yield,” said Ridmark, “or I’ll choke you to death.”
    He leaned a little harder on the staff.
    “Kill me,” rasped Rakhaag, “and the others will tear you apart.”
    “Aye,” said Ridmark, “but you’ll be dead, and then I’ll be dead, and there will be no one left to find out who kidnapped your females and young.” 
    Rakhaag snarled, though not as loudly. Perhaps he did not have the breath.
    Ridmark leaned against the staff, and Rakhaag shuddered. 
    “Yield,” said Ridmark, “or die, and never find your females and your young.”
    Rakhaag shuddered again. “Yield. I yield.”
    Ridmark stood, pulled his staff from Rakhaag’s throat, and stepped back, the weapon ready. Rakhaag staggered to his feet, coughing and wheezing, one clawed hand massaging his neck. 
    “You are weak, Rakhaag!” said another lupivir, stalking toward the leader of the pack. The beastman glared at the larger male. “If you allow this human to dominate you, you are not fit to lead us, and I challenge…”
    “Accepted,” said Rakhaag, and his free hand moved in a blur. The younger male never even saw the blow coming. Rakhaag’s talons tore out his throat, and the smaller male collapsed, his body shrinking back into its half-human, half-bestial form. 
    For a moment no one said anything.
    “Withdraw,” said Rakhaag to the rest of the pack, “and keep watch over the shelters of the humans.” His furious yellow eyes turned back to Ridmark. “You and the orc may pass, and you may even take the whelp. But if you have lied to me, I shall rip out your throat and drink your blood.”
    “I did not take your children, nor do I know who did,” said Ridmark. “I swear it on the name of the Dominus Christus and all his saints.”
    “I care nothing for your human god,” said Rakhaag, “but we shall see if you speak the truth.” 
    He turned, dropped to all fours, and loped from the clearing, vanishing into the trees. The other lupivirii followed suit. Some stopped long enough to snarl and growl at Ridmark, but none would meet his gaze, and they followed Rakhaag from the clearing.
    Soon Ridmark was alone with Kharlacht and Gavin. 
    “I am surprised,” said Kharlacht in Latin.
    Ridmark turned. “Surprised at what?” 
    “That,” said Kharlacht, “we are still alive.” 
    Ridmark looked at the dead beastman. “As am I.” 
    “What…what did you do?” said Gavin. The boy was trying to keep a brave face, but he was as white as a sheet, and a faint twitch kept going through his jaw. The hand that held his club, though, remained steady as a stone. “You talked to them, you fought the largest beastman…and then they all turned and ran.” He shook his head. “How did you do that?”
    “By cleverness,” rumbled Kharlacht. “He is very clever.” 
    “By understanding,” said Ridmark. “The beastmen are like wolves. A wolf pack has a dominant male, an alpha. Challenge the alpha, and none of the other wolves will trouble you.” 
    “They would have killed me,” said Gavin. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “Might I know your name, sir?”
    “Ridmark Arban,” said Ridmark. Gavin showed no sign of recognition. “This is Kharlacht of Vhaluusk, a baptized orc.”
    Gavin looked at the wooden cross resting against Kharlacht’s dark elven armor. “I see.” He drew himself up. “My name is Gavin, and my father is Cornelius, the praefectus of the village of Aranaeus.”
    “I’ve met him,” said Ridmark. Nine years ago, when he had passed through Aranaeus on his way to Urd Morlemoch, Cornelius had been a tall, plump, unpleasant man with a tendency toward avarice. Gavin seemed to take more after his mother,