Free The Dark Warden (Book 6) by Jonathan Moeller Page B

were not all that many left. The Swordbearer had fought well, and Mara and Jager had taken full advantage of Morigna’s spells. The remaining urhaalgars fled in all directions. The last of the sunlight had faded during the fighting, but since seven of the thirteen moons were out, it hardly seemed to matter. Their combined light made an eerie purplish glow, almost the color of a malignant bruise. 
    “Is anyone wounded?” said Ridmark.
    “A few minor cuts,” said Calliande, white glimmering around her fingers as she strode towards Kharlacht. “Nothing major. The Lord was with us.”
    “Aye,” said Caius. 
    “And you, sir knight?” said Ridmark, turning to the Swordbearer. “Are you wounded? Our Magistria can heal you. An urhaalgar’s poison is not a trifling matter.” 
    The Swordbearer’s masked helm rotated back and forth, evaluating them as threats. Ridmark felt a stab of irritation compounded by the constant pulsing pain behind his eyes. They had just saved the man’s life. Yet Morigna was a wild sorceress, and Mara was a dark elven half-breed. They would have been regarded as dangerous in Andomhaim.
    “Ridmark Arban,” said the Swordbearer at last, his voice made hollow by his helm. “I never expected to see you alive again.”
    “Do we know each other, sir knight?” said Ridmark.
    “Aye,” said the Swordbearer, drawing off his helm with his left hand. The knight’s face was lean and weathered, the skin lined by wind and sun. His thick mane of black hair was streaked with gray, his brown eyes hard and fierce. 
    “Sir Arandar?” said Ridmark, surprised. 
    “You know this man?” said Morigna, gazing at the Swordbearer with suspicion. 
    “Ridmark Arban have met many times, my lady,” said Arandar with bow, “though you and I have not, I fear.” 
    “Arandar is a knight of the High King’s household,” said Ridmark. “Though you were. I did not know you had been made a Swordbearer.”
    “Aye,” said Arandar. “Five years ago.”
    “Five years ago?” said Calliande. “Does that mean…”
    Arandar turned his sword towards them as the blade’s white glow faded, and a shock of recognition went through Ridmark. 
    Suddenly he knew what had caused his headache. Severing a Swordbearer from his soulblade caused all sorts of unpleasant physical side effects, including excruciating pain if the former Swordbearer ever drew near his former soulblade again. 
    The soulblade Arandar carried was Heartwarden, Ridmark’s soulblade.
    Or, at least, the soulblade he had carried on the day he had failed to save Aelia.

Chapter 6 - The Knight’s Quest
     
    “That it, isn’t it?” said Calliande, stunned. “Heartwarden.”
    Ridmark nodded, his expression distant. 
    “If you do not mind,” said Ridmark, “you can sheathe your sword now, sir knight.” He blinked several times. “The foe has been defeated, and I confess the headache is…considerable.”
    “Yes, of course,” said the knight Ridmark had called Arandar. “I should have thought of it.” 
    He sheathed his sword, Heartwarden’s glow winking out. Ridmark took a deep breath and swayed upon his feet for a moment, but recovered himself. 
    “What is wrong with him?” hissed Morigna. “Has he exerted himself too far?”
    Calliande started to say that if Morigna was so concerned about Ridmark’s stamina, then she should not have lured him off into the hills for a tryst.
    “The soulblade,” she whispered back instead. “Ridmark used to be bonded to it. The bond was severed when he was cast out of the Order. Touching the soulblade again would cause him agony. Even being near it is painful. Have you not wondered why he never fights with a sword? It is not just regret. Simply the reminder of wielding a soulblade would cause him pain.”
    “Thank you,” said Ridmark.
    “No, thank you,” said Arandar, looking them over. His dark eyes, his gray-streaked hair, and his hooked nose made him look like a proud hunting hawk. “You,