Frostborn: The Gorgon Spirit by Jonathan Moeller

an urvaalg,” said Gavin. “The Old Man used an urvaalg to kill your Sir Nathan. What kind of spell do you think the Old Man used to command the urvaalg? The same one you’re using, perhaps?” 
    Her face went blank, but her dark eyes flashed with rage, and for a moment Gavin thought she might strike him. Then she scowled and looked away, but he saw a flicker of chagrin on her face. Perhaps she had listened to him. Perhaps she was putting on a show for his benefit. 
    But he would watch her closely nonetheless. 

Chapter 3: Khorduk

    The next day they reached Khorduk in the middle of the afternoon.
    “That,” said Gavin with surprise, “looks a lot like Thainkul Dural.”
    Ridmark nodded, watching the village. 
    They were high in the foothills now, almost to the mountains proper. The peaks rose up overhead like fists of gray stone and white ice, their snow-topped caps glinting in the sun sinking towards the western horizon. Somewhere beyond those peaks, he knew, lay the Vale of Stone Death and the gates to the ruined dwarven city of Khald Azalar.
    With luck, they would find aid within the walls of Khorduk.
    The village was a peculiar mixture of dwarven and pagan orcish architecture. A stockade of sharpened logs and piled stones encircled the village, and most of the houses within were round with thatched roofs, much like the dead village Ridmark and Morigna had seen yesterday. Yet the gate’s twin watch towers were built of massive blocks of perfectly worked stone, and stood twice as tall as the stockade itself. The blocky shape of dwarven glyphs marked the towers’ sides, along with the stylized, angular bas-beliefs the dwarven kindred preferred for artwork. Within the heart of the village rose another blocky dwarven tower, twice as high as the watch towers. Khorduk was a strong place and would be difficult to take by storm. To judge from the crossbow-armed guards standing atop the wall, it hadn’t fallen to the trolls. If the Traveler and Mournacht had both brought armies to enter Khald Azalar, they would find it wiser to go around Khorduk. 
    “Aye, Sir Gavin,” said Caius, gazing at the towers. “It was once one of the outer watch towers of Khald Azalar, with a signal fire to warn the others. Likely it fell when the Frostborn stormed Khald Azalar itself.”
    “If it is a watch tower,” said Morigna, “then would it not open to the Deeps? Perhaps we can enter Khald Azalar through a tunnel and avoid our foes entirely.”
    Caius shook his head. “A sound thought, but the outer watch towers would not link to the Deeps. The approaches to Khald Azalar within the Deeps have their own strong points.” 
    “You seem most familiar with Khald Azalar, Brother Caius,” said Arandar with surprise.
    “I visited it once,” said Caius, his deep voice distant. “Long ago, before it fell to the Frostborn, when the Three Kingdoms of the dwarves were still the Four Kingdoms. Certainly long before any of you children were born.” 
    “You shall make a useful guide, then,” said Arandar.
    “Not as much as I would wish,” said Caius. “It was long ago, and I only visited the top levels of Khald Azalar. I had no idea the Keeper would conceal her staff there…or even who the Keeper really was.” He smiled. “Had I but been a little older, I could have met Calliande in person centuries ago and saved us much trouble.” 
    Calliande smiled back. “How dare you have been born too late, Brother Caius.” 
    “We can hire a guide with more recent knowledge here,” said Kharlacht.
    “This village looks like a den of iniquity,” said Arandar. 
    “It is,” said Kharlacht, “but the orcs here worship neither the blood gods nor the Dominus Christus, but only profit. They will not kill us in the name of Mhor.”
    “No,” said Jager. “Though they might kill us in the name of all the armor of dark elven steel that we are wearing. Such relics are valuable.”
    “That is a possibility,” said Kharlacht. “But only