Free The Dark Warden (Book 6) by Jonathan Moeller

dark magic. 
    “This way,” said Ridmark.
     
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    Ridmark walked around the curve of the hill, the battle coming into sight. The Swordbearer had killed a few more urhaalgars, yet Ridmark saw the weariness in the man’s every motion. A soulblade augmented its bearer’s strength and speed to superhuman levels, but no man’s stamina lasted forever. 
    When it failed, the Swordbearer would die.
    Ridmark’s headache intensified, increasing whenever he looked at the Swordbearer. Another mystery to worry about later.
    The urhaalgars were focused upon the knight, the urshanes shrieking commands, so the creatures were completely unprepared for the attack to fall upon them. Ridmark split the skull of one urhaalgar and hewed the legs from another. Kharlacht struck with mighty blows of his two-handed sword. The ground folded in the grip of Morigna’s spell, and a dozen urhaalgars collapsed, and Jager and Mara darted into the chaos, striking with short swords and daggers. 
    A ripple of shock went through the urhaalgars, the creatures spinning to face the new threat.
    And as they did, Ridmark saw that they faced three urshanes, not two.
    The urshanes shrieked, and the urhaalgars charged to attack, snarling and howling.
    Ridmark spun his axe and ran to meet them.
     
    ###
     
    Calliande concentrated on holding the spell over the weapons in place, while Morigna’s magic threw the urhaalgars into chaos.
    The sorceress stood next to Calliande, staff gripped in her right hand, purple fire snarling around her left. She gestured with her staff, and twisted roots erupted from the earth, wrapping around the urhaalgars to hold them in place. The roots did not hold the urhaalgars for long, but that was more than enough time for Mara to appear behind them and open their throats. 
    “For God and St. Michael!” roared the armored Swordbearer. His soulblade spun, cutting down one of the urhaalgars, and he charged into the fray. It seemed he was not the sort of man to sit idly by while others came to his aid. Calliande wondered if the Swordbearer knew Ridmark. Perhaps the knight was one of his friends, like Sir Joram Agramore or Sir Constantine Licinius.
    Or perhaps the man would was like Sir Paul Tallmane or Dux Tarrabus Carhaine. 
    “Gavin!” said Caius.
    One of the urshanes broke from the press and raced towards Calliande on all fours, the poisoned stinger rising high. Calliande gestured, and a burst of white fire shot from her hand to strike the urshane. The spell flipped the creature over, smoke rising from its charred scales, but did the urshane no real harm. While she maintained the spell over the weapons, she could not spare the strength to destroy the creature. 
    She prepared to strike again, but the urshane sprang to the side. 
    Then the urshane’s form blurred and changed.
    One moment it was a scaled horror of grace and power. The next it was a naked young woman about Gavin’s age, her eyes wide and fearful, her arms wrapped tight about herself for warmth or modesty or both. Calliande had seen her before, months ago, in Gavin’s home village of Aranaeus.
    “Rosanna?” said Gavin, stunned.
    “Help me,” said Rosanna, her voice quaking. Gavin had been in love with her, but Rosanna had been betrothed to the apprentice of the village’s blacksmith. Likely Rosanna and Philip had been wed by now. “They kidnapped me and brought me here, they did things to me, terrible things, help me, help me…”
    Gavin ran towards her, lowering his sword.
    “Idiot!” raged Morigna. “Stop, you fool! It is only a trick!” 
    She raised a hand to cast a spell. 
    “Wait,” said Calliande. 
    Rosanna reached for Gavin, her face full of pleading hope. 
    That hope turned to snarling fury when Gavin drove his glowing orcish sword between her ribs. Rosanna shuddered and melted back into the form of the urshane, alien eyes filled with rage, and Gavin ripped his sword loose and stabbed again.
    The urshane crumpled to the ground, its