The Soldier's Tale (6 page)

Tarrabus almost smiled. “You shall quote
the Pact of the Two Orders at me next, sir.”

“It speaks wisdom,” said Ridmark. “The
Magistri are only to use their magic for defense, for knowledge,
and for healing. Never to harm another mortal. It is a wise
provision. Else we shall be like the dark elves, ruled by cruel
sorcerers of power, or like the pagan orcs, beholden to shamans of
blood spells.”

“Perhaps we are not wise,” said Tarrabus.
“Perhaps it would be better if we used our magic as a weapon. The
dark elves can live for millennia, and the urdmordar are immortal.
We live but a short span of years, and face foes of tremendous
power. Perhaps if we used magic to elevate ourselves, to
ascend…”

“As Eve ate of the tree to ascend to the
knowledge of good and evil?” said Ridmark.

Tarrabus offered a short, hard smile. “Let
us leave theological speculation to the priests. There is news of
more immediate interest. It seems that the Dux wishes for his
daughter to wed soon.”

Constantine frowned. “It is unseemly to
gossip about my sister, sir.”

One of Tarrabus’s knights, a scowling man
named Paul Tallmane, glared at Constantine. “You should keep a
respectful tongue in your mouth, boy. You are addressing the future
Dux of Caerdracon."

Again Tarrabus lifted a hand, and Paul
stopped talking. “What gossip is there, boy? I merely repeat common
knowledge. The Dux is fond of his grandchildren, and he would like
more. And Aelia is a noblewoman both fair in face and character,
ripe to be wed.”

Ridmark shrugged. “I am sure the Dux will
choose a worthy husband for her.”

“A man of high noble birth, set to rise
higher,” said Tarrabus.

“Or,” said Joram, “a knight of renown, who
has made a name with great deeds. A Swordbearer, perhaps.” He
shrugged. “Though I am sure I cannot think of such a man.”

Tarrabus started to answer, then the Dux
cleared his throat, the hall falling silent.

“My friends,” said Dux Gareth Licinius in
his deep voice, “I bid you welcome to my hall, on this joyous day
of Our Lord’s resurrection. We have faced many challenges this
winter, with raids from both the orcs of the Wilderland and from
the Deep.” He nodded in Ridmark’s direction. “And an urdmordar even
sought to enslave one of our villages. But by God’s mercy and the
valor of our knights, we have survived, and both Lent and the
winter are over. Let us then give thanks to God, and make merry
with food and drink and dancing.” A page hurried over with a goblet
of wine, and Gareth took a drink and lifted the goblet.

“To the Northerland and the High King!” he
shouted.

“To the Northerland and the High King!” the
guests roared back.

A cheer went through the hall, and the
musicians upon the balconies started playing a lively song. The
lords and the knights went to the ladies and started to pair up,
dancing over the black and white tiles of the floor.

“Pardon me, sirs,” said Ridmark, with a bow
to both Tarrabus and Joram.

Tarrabus opened his mouth to answer, but
before he could, Ridmark strode away and approached the Dux’s
dais.

Gareth looked at him, an amused look on his
face. “Sir Ridmark.”

“My lord Dux,” said Ridmark. “I hope you
are well.”

“I am,” said Gareth, “for a man of my age.
Ah, but these northern winters get harder to endure every
year.”

“I wish to ask something of you, my lord,”
said Ridmark.

“Certainly. You did a great service to my
lands and people when you slew the urdmordar Gothalinzur.”

“I ask for the honor of the first dance of
the evening with Lady Aelia,” said Ridmark.

Gareth chuckled. “Well, that is hardly mine
to give.” He looked at his daughter.

Aelia smiled. “If I must, father, I shall
bear up under this dreadful burden.” She grinned, holding out a
hand, and Ridmark took it. His hand went on her left hip, their
right hands twining together, and he led her upon the floor of the
hall, moving in time to the music.

“Shall we go faster?” said Ridmark.

Her smile widened. “Only if you think you
can keep up, sir knight.”

Ridmark laughed, their heels clicking
against the floor.

“Poor Tarrabus,” said Aelia. “He looks like
he wants to rip off someone’s head.”

Ridmark opened his mouth, and then closed
it. He was only nineteen, but he still knew enough of women to
realize that pointing out his rival’s flaws would not be
productive.

“Well,” he said. “If he wanted the first
dance, he should have been faster. Fortune does favor the bold, my
lady.”

“How flattering,” she murmured. “The sons
of two Duxi, racing to dance with me. And I will not even inherit
my father’s lands and titles.”

“They come with much responsibility,” said
Ridmark. “Your father labors endlessly to bear his burdens.”

“You aided him with that,” said Aelia,
“when you slew Gothalinzur.” Ridmark grimaced. “I know you do not
like to be reminded of what you did at Victrix, but it was a great
deed.”

“It was necessary,” said Ridmark. “And I
had help. I could not have done it alone.”

“So have said all the great heroes of
history,” said Aelia.

“I have no wish to be a hero,” said
Ridmark. “Merely to discharge my responsibilities with honor.”

“As do I,” said Aelia. “Like my father, I
must do what is best for the people of the Northerland.”

Which, Ridmark wondered, meant wedding
Tarrabus Carhaine?

“You look so grim,” said Aelia.

“I always look grim,” said Ridmark. “I’m
smiling now. See?”

He kept his expression the same.

Aelia laughed. “If you look like that when
you are happy, I dread to think of what you must look like in a
fury.”

“I think we are talking too much,” said
Ridmark. “We should dance instead.”

Her eyes lit up. “If we must.”

They moved across the floor, revolving
around each other. In the southern courts, the dances were slower,
more solemn. Here in the north, they were faster and wilder, and he
saw a sheen of sweat appear upon Aelia’s brow. Again and again they
bumped into each other, sometimes by accident, sometimes not, and
every touch sent a thrill through Ridmark. He wanted to pull her
close and kiss her more than he had ever wanted anything, but he
would not dishonor her and her father.

Though if he found her alone, perhaps in a
stairwell or a corridor, he would dare a kiss. And if she did not
slap him, he would dare another.

The song ended, and a smattering of
applause went through the hall. Ridmark and Aelia stepped apart and
bowed to each other. She looked at his belt and frowned.

“What’s that?” she said.

For an excruciating moment Ridmark wondered
if his body had betrayed him into embarrassment, and then realized
she was talking about something else.

About his soulblade.

Pale white light leaked from the edges of
the scabbard.

His embarrassment turned into alarm, and he
slid Heartwarden a few inches from its scabbard. A soulstone had
been embedded in the blade above the crosspiece. It looked like a
chunk of rough white crystal, but it was the source of the blade’s
magic.

“It’s glowing,” said Aelia.

Ridmark shook his head. “It only does that
when I draw upon its power, or…”

Or when creatures of dark magic were
near.

“My lord Dux!” shouted Ridmark, his voice
cutting through the hall.

Gareth saw his blade and rose from his
chair. Ridmark saw that the other Swordbearers in attendance had
drawn their soulblades, their soulstones also shining with a pale
white light.

“My lords and knights!” said Gareth.
“Defend yourselves! There are foes among us.”

There was no panic. Everyone in the room
had lived through kobold or orcish raids, and knew what to do. The
men drew their swords or lifted maces. The women hurried to take
the children and the servants in hand, leading them towards the
chapel.

The doors to the great hall swung open with
a groan. Torchlight blazed in the courtyard outside, but Ridmark
heard no signs of alarm.

A tall figure in a long red coat stood in
the doorway, his shadow falling into the hall.

Follow this link to continue
reading
Frostborn:
The First Quest
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4439)
.

***

The Demonsouled Saga

MAZAEL CRAVENLOCK is a wandering knight,
fearless in battle and masterful with a sword.

Yet he has a dark secret. He is
Demonsouled, the son of the ancient and cruel Old Demon, and his
tainted blood grants him superhuman strength and speed. Yet with
the power comes terrible, inhuman rage, and Mazael must struggle to
keep the fury from devouring him.

But he dare not turn aside from the
strength of his blood, for he will need it to face terrible
foes.

The priests of the San-keth plot and scheme
in the shadows, pulling lords and kingdoms upon their strings. The
serpent priests desire to overthrow the realms of men and enslave
humanity. Unless Mazael stops them, they shall force all nations to
bow before the serpent god.

The Malrag hordes are coming, vast armies
of terrible, inhuman beasts, filled with a lust for cruelty and
torment. The Malrags care nothing for conquest or treasure, only
slaughter. And the human realms are ripe for the harvest. Only a
warrior of Mazael’s power can hope to defeat them.

The Dominiar Order and the Justiciar Order
were once noble and respected, dedicated to fighting the powers of
dark magic. Now they are corrupt and cynical, and scheme only for
power and glory. They will kill anyone who stands in their way.

To defeat these foes, Mazael will need all
the strength of his Demonsouled blood.

Yet he faces a far more terrible foe.

For centuries the Old Demon has manipulated
kings and lords. Now he shall seize the power of the Demonsouled
for himself, and become the a god of torment and tyranny.

Unless Mazael can stop him.

Read
Demonsouled
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=880) for free.
Mazael's adventures continue in
Soul of
Tyrants
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=911),
Soul
of Serpents
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1287),
Soul of
Dragons
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1727),
Soul
of Sorcery
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1845),
Soul of
Skulls
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=2808),
and
Soul of
Swords
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=3599),
along with the short stories
The Wandering
Knight
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=3073),
The
Tournament Knight
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=3677), and
The Dragon's
Shadow
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=2635).
Get the first three books bundled together in
Demonsouled
Omnibus One
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4442).

The Ghosts Series

Once CAINA AMALAS was the shy daughter of a
minor nobleman, content to spend her days in her father’s
library.

Then sorcery and murder and her mother’s
treachery tore her life apart.

Now she is a nightfighter of the Ghosts, an
elite agent of the spies and assassins of the Emperor of Nighmar.
She is a master of disguise and infiltration, of stealth and the
shadows.

And she will need all those skills to
defend the Empire and stay alive.

Corrupt lords scheme and plot in the
shadows, desiring to pull down the Emperor and rule the Empire for
their own profit and glory. Slave traders lurk on the fringes of
the Empire, ready to seize unwary commoners and sell them into
servitude in distant lands. Yet both slave traders and cruel lords
must beware the Ghosts.

The Magisterium, the Imperial brotherhood
of sorcerers, believe themselves the rightful masters of the
Empire. With their arcane sciences, they plan to overthrow the
Empire and enslave the commoners, ruling all of mankind for their
own benefit. Only the Ghosts stand in the path of their sinister
plans.

And the Moroaica, the ancient sorceress of
legend and terror, waits in the shadows, preparing to launch a war
upon the gods themselves. She will make the gods pay for the
suffering of mankind...even if she must destroy the world to do
it.

Caina Amalas of the Ghosts opposes these
mighty enemies, but the cost might be more than she can bear.

Read
Child of the
Ghosts
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1057)
for free. Caina's adventures continue in
Ghost in the
Flames
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1265),
Ghost
in the Blood
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1383),
Ghost in the
Storm
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1931),
Ghost
in the Stone
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=2520),
Ghost in the
Forge
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=3181),
Ghost
in the Ashes
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=3932),
Ghost in the
Mask
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4231), and
Ghost
in the Surge
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4637), along with
the short stories
Ghost
Aria
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=3243),
Ghost
Claws
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=3930),
Ghost
Omens
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4235),
The
Fall of Kyrace
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4258),
Ghost
Thorns
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4639),
Ghost
Undying
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4662),
Ghost
Light
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=5653),
and
Ghost
Dagger
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=2371).
Get the first three books bundled together in
The Ghosts
Omnibus One
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=4484), and get the
first four short stories bundled together in a
World of the
Ghosts Volume One
(http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=5669).