Free Frostborn: The First Quest by Jonathan Moeller

moment Ridmark realized the creature was dead. Someone had carved deep wounds in its chest and back, black slime dripping upon the white stairs. A sword wound, then, one delivered with enough force to pierce hide and muscle and bone.
    And a magical sword, if it had killed an urvaalg.
    Had Rhyannis killed it? Ardrhythain had not mentioned if the bladeweavers carried magical swords, but it seemed likely. Or did more dark elves than the Warden dwell in Urd Morlemoch? Perhaps the urvaalg had gone berserk and attacked its masters.
    He climbed the stairs, and found three more dead urvaalgs upon the steps. Two had been killed with a single powerful sword thrust through the heart, and one had been beheaded entirely, black slime spattered across the walls. 
    Someone had fought three urvaalgs at once and prevailed. Rhyannis? Or someone else? If it was Rhyannis, if she was free within Urd Morlemoch, Ridmark could rescue her, and they could retreat through the dungeons before the Warden even noticed them.
    He took another step and heard sounds echoing down the stairwell.
    Growls and snarls…and a man’s voice raised in challenge.
    A man’s voice speaking Latin.
    Ridmark raced up the stairs.
    If another man of Andomhaim was in this horrid place, Ridmark would not leave him to fight alone. He remembered what the urshanes had said about the Dux sending a rescue mission. Had there been an element of truth of to their lies?
    Ridmark felt the cold, salt-scented wind upon his face, and the stairs opened into a wide courtyard lined with columns. The strange, unnatural black sky stretched overhead, the ribbons of blue fire dancing across it. A half-dozen dead urvaalgs lay scattered across the courtyard, and a half-dozen more moved in a wide circle, growling and snarling.
    A knight stood in the center of the circle, clad in chain mail and plate, a soulblade shining in his right fist.
    Ridmark had never seen him before. The Swordbearer was middle-aged, with gray-streaked black hair and a close-cropped gray beard. Blood marked the left side of his face, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarl. He looked like a man who had been fighting for days without rest, his blue eyes wide and bloodshot with fury and exhaustion.
    “Come on, then!” he roared, lifting his soulblade, its soulstone flashing with white light. “Come on, dogs, come and face me!”
    One of the urvaalgs lunged at him, and the Swordbearer reacted with lightning speed. The white-glowing blade licked out and opened a gash on the urvaalg’s shoulder, and the creature slunk back with an angry growl. Another urvaalg lunged, and the knight just managed to dodge the strike. He struck another urvaalg, forcing the creature to reel back, but the others closed around him.
    They would rush him and kill him.
    Ridmark charged forward. 
    “For God and the High King!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs, hoping to draw the attention of the urvaalgs. “For God and the Dux!” 
    The Swordbearer saw him, his eyes growing wide, and some of the urvaalgs spun to face Ridmark. The older knight took the opportunity to strike, and his soulblade plunged into the back of an urvaalg. The beast roared, went rigid, and collapsed to the ground. The other urvaalgs hesitated, trying to decide if Ridmark or the other Swordbearer was the greater threat.
    Ridmark crashed into them, calling upon Heartwarden to lend him strength and speed. Before the nearest urvaalg could get its balance, he slashed his sword in a two-handed blow, taking off the creature’s head in a fountain of black slime. The other knight took advantage of the confusion, his soulblade blurring and taking off an urvaalg’s arm. The creature screamed in pain and fury, and the Swordbearer opened its throat with a quick thrust. 
    Another urvaalg lunged at Ridmark, but with Heartwarden’s speed, he avoided the blow. The urvaalg lost its balance, and Ridmark swung his sword and severed the creature’s hamstrings. The urvaalg toppled