Frostborn: The Undying Wizard by Jonathan Moeller Page A

her. But she fought valiantly alongside the Gray Knight and his friends to defeat the undead.” 
    “As you say,” said Michael, but his anger seemed undimmed. 
    “She deserves our thanks,” said Ulakhur, “as does Ridmark Arban.” He rose and bowed in their direction. “If not for your aid, we would have lost the monastery. And we could easily have lost the town.”
    “You would have lost the town in any event,” said Calliande, voice quiet. “I barely have the magical strength to overcome one wraith, and there were six in the crypt. Even if you had held the wall against the skeletal undead, the wraiths could have passed through the wall without hindrance, and you would have been forced to flee the town.”
    “Then, truly,” said Ulakhur, “God in his mercy sent you to us in our hour of need.”
    “He works in mysterious ways,” said Caius, “his wonders to perform.”
    “I fear it may not be so mysterious,” said Calliande. “The undead might be after me.”
    “You, my lady?” said Ulakhur. “Why?”
    “There is a renegade high elven wizard who calls himself Shadowbearer,” said Calliande. 
    Jonas scoffed. “A legend.” 
    Calliande remained calm, but Ridmark knew her well enough by now to know when she wanted to roll her eyes.
    “Shadowbearer may or may not be a legend,” said Calliande, “but this high elven wizard calls himself by that name. I escaped him once, and he is hunting me. Already he has sent groups of undead after me. I fear…I fear I may have brought this evil upon you.” 
    “No,” said Caius. “The evil is the work of the dvargir, not Shadowbearer. And certainly not you.” 
    “Then how,” said Michael, “did that dead dvargir get into the crypts?” 
    “A grievous evil,” said Ulakhur. “Generations of departed brothers rested in the crypts, awaiting the Last Day. The vile necromancy has defiled that sacred place. Thankfully their souls rest in the arms of the Dominus Christus…though their mortal vessels can still be profaned by dark magic.” 
    “I am not sure,” said Ridmark, “that the dead dvargir was responsible.”
    “Why not?” said Ulakhur.
    “As Sir Michael said,” said Ridmark, “how did the dvargir get into the crypts?”
    No one had an answer for him.
    Ridmark had fought dvargir before, while he had been a Swordbearer in service to the Dux Gareth Licinius of Castra Marcaine. The dvargir dwelled in the Deeps, and rarely came to the surface, preferring to spend their time warring against the dark elves and the kobolds and the deep orcs and each other. But when they attacked humans on the surface, they preferred to use surprise and ambush. One of their favorite tactics was to tunnel into the cellars of a castra and attack in the middle of the night. 
    “I do not know,” said Ulakhur. “The brothers and the novices searched the crypt once it was made safe. They found no sign of a tunnel.” 
    “Is there a secret entrance?” said Ridmark. “This monastery is a fortress, and often fortresses are built with escape tunnels. Is there a secret passage from the crypts?”
    “No,” said Ulakhur. “I’m sure of it. The monastery has secret passages, of course, and the knowledge of them is passed from abbot to abbot. But there are no secret passages to the crypts.” 
    Jonas laughed. “Then perhaps the dvargir used magic to turn itself into a wraith and pass through the walls.”
    “No,” said Caius. “The dvargir have magic, but that is not among their powers.” 
    “The dvargir must have infiltrated the monastery in the night,” said Kharlacht. 
    “Or,” said Jonas, “someone within the monastery let it inside.”
    Ulakhur frowned. Despite his advanced age, the old orc still looked fierce. “Do you accuse one of our brothers, Sir Jonas? We are all men of God, and we do not betray each other.”
    “Even the Dominus Christus was betrayed, was he not?” said Jonas. “Treachery ever lurks in the heart of men.” 
    “This is