Free Frostborn: The First Quest by Jonathan Moeller Page B

be like flies to them, born in the morning and slain in the afternoon. The life of one bladeweaver matters more to Ardrhythain than every man, woman, and child in the High King’s realm…and he will not hesitate to sacrifice as many Swordbearers as necessary to rescue the wretched elven girl.” He shrugged. “When we are slain, Ardrhythain will simply send another, and another, and another, until either his precious bladeweaver is rescued, or he has slain every last Knight of the Soulblade in Andomhaim.” 
    “I see,” said Ridmark at last. The high elven archmage had warned him more than once about the dangers he would face within the walls of Urd Morlemoch, had given him every chance to turn back. Yet Sir Lancelus’s words also rang true. The high elves lived for millennia. What did the lives of mere humans matter to them?
    But Ardrhythain had given magic to the humans, rather than allow the urdmordar to destroy them. Yet perhaps that was because he realized the knights of Andomhaim would make effective weapons against the urdmordar, caring nothing for the fate of the High King’s realm…
    Ridmark shook his head. Such speculations were useless, and he had more immediate problems. 
    “How do you suggest we proceed from here?” said Ridmark.
    “We escape from this madness,” said the older knight. “You came up from the catacombs?” Ridmark nodded. “Then the way is clear, at least for now. Sooner or later the Warden’s vile creatures will find their way into the tunnels, but we should be long gone by then.”
    “You intend to leave?” said Ridmark.
    “I do,” said Lancelus, his hard eyes narrowed. “Ardrhythain led us astray and sent us here to die. I see no reason to honor my word to him.” 
    “Very well,” said Ridmark. “I will escort you to the secret entrance. From there you can make your way back to Coldinium…”
    “And you can go back to Castra Marcaine,” said Lancelus.
    “No,” said Ridmark. “I will venture back into the ruins and continue searching for Rhyannis, or at least for knowledge of her fate.”
    Lancelus tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing further. Ridmark felt the older man weighing him.
    “Are you utterly mad, boy?” he said at last.
    “Perhaps,” said Ridmark. “But I gave my word to find Rhyannis or learn of her fate, and I have done neither as yet. I am a Knight of the Soulblade, and I will not break my given word.”
    And he had no wish to go back to Castra Marcaine, and to Aelia, empty-handed. 
    “Ardrhythain lied to you, boy,” said Lancelus, angry now, “and you are still going to do his bidding?”
    “He didn’t lie,” said Ridmark. “He simply did not share the entire truth.”
    “A lie by omission is still a lie,” said Lancelus. His hands had curled into fists, and Ridmark wondered if the older knight was going to attack him, if he had been driven mad by the horrors of this place. 
    “True,” said Ridmark, “but he did not lie about the vital matters. Rhyannis is in danger, and he needs the aid of a Swordbearer to retrieve her. I intend to be that Swordbearer, and to escape here alive with Rhyannis.”
    “You will perish,” said Lancelus.
    “All men die,” said Ridmark. “Better to perish in pursuit of some great deed, I think, instead of cringing fearfully in the corner.”
    For a moment he thought he had said too much, but Lancelus did not move. “You would truly do it? You would take me to the exit, let me escape from here, and then return to face all the horrors alone?”
    Ridmark shrugged. “If I must. I would prefer help, though I have no right to command you.” He thought of the bones, the trap, and the urshane wearing Aelia’s face. “And after the horrors I have already seen…no, I could not blame you or any man for fleeing.”
    To his surprise, Lancelus threw back his head and roared with laughter. 
    “You surprise me, Ridmark Arban,” said Lancelus, all trace of his anger gone. “Such boldness. Could