The Dark Warden (Book 6) Read Free

wanted to become strong, strong enough that no one could ever harm her as her parents had been killed, and Nathan’s death had only redoubled that determination. 
    Yet Morigna had made herself vulnerable to Ridmark. Though without his help, Coriolus would have killed her. And Ridmark’s mind and heart were wounded, blaming himself for the death of his wife.
    That sent a flicker of anger through Morigna. The lords of Andomhaim had been fools to strip Ridmark of his soulblade and banish him. He was a valiant warrior and a capable leader, and he had the potential within him to become more. He ought to have been a powerful Dux, Morigna thought. If he had wished it, he could have raised an army, overthrown the High King, and claimed the ancient crown of the Pendragons for himself. 
    Perhaps Uthanaric Pendragon deserved to be overthrown. He had allowed Ridmark to be banished, and under his reign the cancer of the Enlightened of Incariel had spread through Andomhaim. Perhaps it was time for a stronger man to take his place.
    A man like Ridmark, for instance. 
    Maybe she could convince him of that, convince him to reject the lords and nobles that had condemned him for a death that was not his responsibility. 
    The thought of standing at his side for that, of sharing his life and his bed, was a pleasant one. It was a thought for another day, though. After she had fulfilled her promise to Ridmark, after they had returned from Urd Morlemoch and stopped the return of the Frostborn. 
    Assuming, of course, that they survived.
    Morigna returned to the others. Ridmark had not yet returned from his scouting, and Kharlacht and Gavin had taken the lead, the orcish warrior and the boy speaking in low voices. Caius and Jager walked on either side of Calliande, all three of them talking, and Mara followed them. The short woman wore sturdy traveling clothes of wool and leather looted from the Iron Tower, and her only weapons were a pair of daggers sheathed at her belt. 
    That was all she needed. With the power of her dark elven blood, Mara was as deadly with those blades as a Swordbearer armored in steel plate. 
    “Anything interesting?” said Mara. The cold wind tugged at her pale hair, revealing the delicate elven point of one ear. 
    “The hills are quite deserted,” said Morigna. “We are alone. For a place of legend and terror, the Torn Hills are empty. Perhaps the Warden’s fearsome reputation has driven off all the monsters.”
    Mara smiled. “Alas, I fear we are not so fortunate. From what I have seen of Ridmark’s band, I half-expect to find an army of Mhorite orcs led by an urdmordar and a dozen dark elven wizards over the next hill.”
    Morigna laughed. “You exaggerate. Though perhaps not by much.” To Morigna’s surprise, she liked the former assassin. Mara was so calm and patient, which Morigna supposed were useful qualities in an assassin. For that matter, Morigna had never had a female friend before. The women of Moraime had regarded her with fear and suspicion, and Morigna had no desire for their company. 
    “We’re getting closer,” said Mara. She closed her eyes for a moment. “I can hear his song.” 
    “The Warden’s?” said Morigna. 
    “It’s so strong,” murmured Mara. She opened her eyes and looked north. “We’re about…six days away, I think. Maybe five.”
    “And you do not feel any urge to…do his bidding, shall we say?” said Morigna. 
    Mara smiled. “No. Once, I would have had no choice. But I have my own song now. The Warden cannot compel me. Nor could my father, the Matriarch, or any other dark elven noble or wizard.” 
    “One supposes they would just kill you now,” said Morigna. 
    “That would be the rational decision,” said Mara. She adjusted her hair, arranging it to cover her ears. Likely it was an old habit. “Speaking of that, I need to ask you something.”
    “You may,” said Morigna.
    “What will you do if you become pregnant with Ridmark’s