Excerpt Thursday: FROSTBORN: THE EIGHTFOLD KNIFE
It’s Excerpt Thursday! This week’s excerpt is from FROSTBORN: THE EIGHTFOLD KNIFE.
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Paul scoffed. “And I suppose you intend to find whatever is behind these disappearances, exile? I am not surprised. You were ever the fool, running after every mud-stained freeholder than came to you with a tale of woe.”
Calliande bristled. Ridmark’s penchant for running after every mud-stained freeholder with a tale of woe had saved her life, kept the empty soulstone from falling into the hands of Shadowbearer, and had saved the town of Dun Licinia. However much Ridmark hated himself, he did not deserve to have this preening jackass insult him.
But Ridmark answered before she could speak.
“Innocent people may be dead,” said Ridmark. “Would you have me abandon the rest of them to their fate?”
Paul shrugged. “Do whatever you like, exile. But these people left Andomhaim. They chose to forsake the protection and wisdom of our High King. We are not obliged to defend them.” He smiled. “Frankly, if the inn caught fire, I would not cross the street to piss upon the flames.”
“They are still sons and daughters of the church,” said Ridmark.
“Have you seen the church’s state of repair?” said Paul. “Or talked to that senile old priest? These villagers care nothing for the sacred traditions of the faith. It would not surprise me if that red-haired bitch led them to a circle of dark elven menhirs to sacrifice to the blood gods of the orcs.” He grinned. “Or maybe they’re looking for the Frostborn, too, like a certain pathetic coward with a stick and a brand…”
“Enough,” said Calliande. Paul looked at her, blinking in surprise. “The Frostborn are returning. The realm must prepare itself to face the danger.”
Paul and his men laughed. “Who is this, exile? Some tart dressed up in men’s clothing?” He stepped towards her, grinning. “Your whore, perhaps? Your prostitute that…”
A heartbeat later Paul was on the floor, his eyes wide, blood streaming from his nose. The men-at-arms shouted and drew their swords. Ridmark remained calm, though he grimaced as he shook his fist.
Agnes hooted with laughter, took another drink of her beer, and closed her eyes.
“Apologize,” said Ridmark.
“You hit me!” said Paul. He sounded more astonished than angry.
“Apologize,” said Ridmark again. “This woman is a Magistria of the Order, and you have insulted her. Apologize, now, or I will challenge you to a duel.” His eyes were flinty. “And if I do, you will not leave Aranaeus alive.”
Paul growled and got to his feet with a clatter of armor, and Calliande was sure he would throw himself at Ridmark. Ridmark stared at him without blinking, and the anger drained from Paul’s face, replaced by a hint of fear.
-JM