The Dark Warden (Book 6) Read Online Free PDF

Morigna.
    Ridmark nodded and followed the tracks, Morigna trailing a half-step behind him with her bow ready. The trail led into a hollow nestled in one of the hills, and Ridmark saw the signs of a recent camp. Ashes lay in a ring of stones, and he saw evidence that many men had camped here. The grass had been trampled flat, and he saw the impressions of tents. Ridmark squatted near the campfire and stirred the ashes. 
    “A small fire,” he said. “Within the last day, I think. Just one man. He camped here, and then he left.”
    “Look at this,” said Morigna, picking something up. She held three long, coarse white hairs. 
    “Orcish hair,” said Ridmark.
    “But they’re all white,” said Morigna. “All of them. There is orcish hair all over this clearing, and I cannot find a single black one. Are all the orcs of the Torn Hills elderly? One suppose they would not make a formidable force.”
    “Not elderly,” said Ridmark. “Mutated.”
    “Mutated?” said Morigna.
    “The Old Man probably told you that the orcs are vulnerable to magical alteration,” said Ridmark. “A tribe of mutated orcs lives near Urd Morlemoch. The Warden’s magic has made them larger and stronger and faster, and some of them have the ability to cast spells. The mutations,” he gestured at his head, “make their hair fall out or turn snow-white. They worship the Warden as a god, and when they die they consider it an honor to have their corpses buried in Urd Morlemoch and raised as the Warden’s undead servants. Like a wealthy man making a gift to the bishop to have his bones interred beneath the cathedral.”
    “As little as I think of the church of Andomhaim,” said Morigna, “I am reasonably certain there is not a single bishop or abbot who animates the dead in his graveyards.” 
    “I hope not, anyway,” said Ridmark.
    Morigna let the white hairs fall from her hand. “What does the Warden want with a tribe of mutated orcs? Pets, one assumes?” 
    “Not quite,” said Ridmark. “He uses them for errands. To kidnap people or to steal things or books he finds interesting. He told me that he read all the books of Old Earth, the Scriptures and the histories of the Romans and the Greeks.”
    “He must truly be bored, then,” said Morigna. 
    Ridmark shook his head. “I didn’t think the Warden’s orcs came this far south. Not unless they had a special task from the Warden.”
    “Well,” said Morigna, “they have been gone for weeks, I think. This lone traveler whose tracks we saw? Likely an overbold trapper chasing game. Or an adventurer thinking to loot Urd Morlemoch.”
    “Then the Warden will soon have another undead servant,” said Ridmark. He looked at the darkening sky. “We should return. One lone wanderer won’t pose a problem, if we keep a watch, and the orcs left weeks ago. We should be safe enough.” He considered that. “As safe as anyone can be in the Torn Hills.”
    Morigna hesitated. “Then you want to go back so soon?”
    Ridmark wondered what she meant. Then he saw the way she was looking at him, and he understood what she wanted. He wondered how she could possibly think that was a good idea right now. 
    A harsh cry rang out, echoing over the hillside. 
    Morigna flinched and whirled, bringing up her bow, and Ridmark followed suit. The bow creaked in his hand, and he looked over the pale grasses of the hillside, seeking for the source of the cry…
    A raven flapped overhead, and flew away to the north. 
    “Damned ravens,” muttered Morigna.
    “Perhaps it wanted to frighten you,” said Ridmark, “given how often you have used ravens to scout.”
    “That,” said Morigna, “is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, Gray Knight.”
    She looked at him, and her indignant expression melted into laughter, and Ridmark felt himself laughing back. 
    “Why is this funny?” said Ridmark. “This isn’t funny.”
    She stepped closer, putting one hand upon his chest as she looked up at him.