The Flame Priest (The Silk & Steel Saga)

by Karen Azinger

  The clan leaders stared at her, a few in welcome, but most shot baleful glares toward her. Their cat-eyes glowed in the firelight like predators, but Kath refused to flinch.

  Danya was already present, sitting in the mossy space between the two bonfires, cradling the wolf’s head in her lap. Kath nodded to Danya but the wolf-girl did not respond.

  The Treespeaker turned to Kath. “Sit here, next to the wolf.”

  Kath sat cross-legged, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other buried in the wolf’s thick blue-black fur.

  *You must enter the dreams of the wolf and find your friends. Release them from the Dark and return to the living side of the veil. We will work to hold the gateway open but you must not tarry. Remember, to linger beyond the veil is to risk being lost forever.*

  “But I don’t know how.”

  *Open your mind to your magic. Seek the eyes of the Forest. The Forest will guide you, linking your thoughts to the wolf’s dreams. Find your friends and return. But be warned, to die beyond the veil is to die in the mortal world. Guard your life well and return to us. May the favor of Leaf and Bark be with you.*

  Kath relinquished her grip on her sword hilt and grasped her gargoyle instead. She’d rather trust the surety of steel than the mystery of magic, but the choice of weapons was not hers to make. She looked at Danya, her face ashen and her eyes sunken. Kath sent a silent plea to the Lords of Light. “I’m ready.”

  The Treespeaker gestured and a green-robed attendant offered Kath a wooden goblet. “Drink deep the nectar of the forest and open yourself to the power of the green.”

  The golden liquid smelled of leaf and bark, of summer in the forest. Kath raised the goblet and drank. A rush of tastes flooded through her, pine and nut and leaf, all the flavors of the forest, deep and green and brimming with life. She drained the goblet, expecting to feel something, but nothing changed.

  “And now it begins.” The Treespeaker raised her arms, stretching her staff toward the treetops. The diadem at her brow glowed bright green, a beacon in the forest. “A debt is owed to a hearth guest.” Her voice carried the strength of the redwoods. “The clan leaders are called to raise the power of the Mother Forest. Reach for the strength of leaf and bark and hold open a pathway to the dream world.”

  The clan leaders began to hum, a deep, sticky tone that clung to the clearing like sap to the tree. The Treespeaker added her voice, a song without words, a melody rich and complex, evoking images of the forest. Overhead, the grandfather trees began to sway, adding the rustle of leaves and the creak of branches. Together they wove a tapestry of tones, something familiar yet otherworldly.

  Kath sat in the center of the grove, at the heart of the gathering power. A feeling of warmth thrummed through her. Power prickled along her skin. Her vision shifted and the forest seemed to brighten though there was no change to the light. Every detail of leaf and bark became crystal clear, etched in her mind. She stared at the rough trunks of the redwoods, entranced by the pattern of the bark. She studied the needles of the trees, sharp and distinct, each one unique. She sat mesmerized by play of moonlight on the treetops, the silver light evoking a thousand shades of green. Even the scent of the forest seemed richer, more complex, the subtle scents of spruce and redwood mingled with boldness of pine and cedar. Kath marveled at the beauty. The forest glowed with magic and wonder and life.

  *Now!* The Treespeaker’s command intruded, drawing Kath back to her purpose. *Reach for your magic and leap to the veil.*

  Confused, Kath tightened her grip on her gargoyle and reached for the magic within. Golden eyes of the Forest stared back at her, waiting, watching, full of mystery and ageless wisdom. This time Kath did not turn away. She welcomed the wisdom of the green, falling into the golden gaze, succumbing to the spell of the forest.

  A wave of dizziness swept over her. She closed her eyes and clutched her gargoyle, needing an anchor. A roaring sound, like the beat of a thousand wings surrounded her. A chime sounded…and then a sudden silence.

  Kath opened her eyes and stifled a gasp. The forest was gone, replaced by the walls of a cave. She stood alone in a tunnel of rock, a vaulted cavern of gray stone stretching into the murky dimness. There was no source of light yet she could see well enough, as if she walked in twilight. Her fingers scraped against the stone walls, rough and hard. The cave seemed real enough. Taking a deep breath, she tested the air, and was overwhelmed by the rush of scents. A tangled web of information hid beneath the scents. Surprised, Kath shook her head, amazed by the scents and her ability to discern each one. Perhaps it was part of the wolf’s dream, or a gift from the Forest, either way she’d find a way to use her enhanced senses.

  Breathing deep, she studied the tangled scents. The air held the damp mustiness of dark places, the loam of earth and the salty, stony smell of rock, but she also caught the sharp tang of wolf. Her nostrils flared, reading emotions in the wolf’s scent, feelings of anger, and confusion…and fear. Startled, Kath surveyed the cavern, wondering what could cause so much fear in a wolf. Taking a deeper breath, she strained to understand…and found a horrid wrongness, something that smelled like wolf but wasn’t, something twisted, something vicious…a hungry, malevolent predator reeking of Darkness.

  Kath reached for her sword…but the scabbard was empty. She grabbed for an axe…but they were missing. She wore the same clothes as before, a leather jerkin and dark green breeches tucked into knee-high boots, but her weapons were gone. A shiver of fear rushed through her; she couldn’t fight a demon without a weapon. She reached to her belt, relieved to find the crystal dagger in its sheath. Steel was denied her, but at least she had the crystal blade. She drew the dagger, needing to hold a weapon in her hand.

  Kath gasped in surprise. The crystal blade glowed like a shard of frozen moonlight, a weapon of the Light against the Dark. The gods hadn’t abandoned her.

  Drawing strength from the glowing blade, she set her mind to the task. She searched for footprints but found none, leaving scent as her only guide. Pacing the cavern, she drank in the scents. Deciding the wolf-smell was strongest to the right, she turned and followed.

  The cavern proved to be a complex maze of twisted shunts and side passageways, an easy place to get lost. Feeling time was against her, Kath considered calling to Danya, but a sixth sense cautioned against it. Something evil lurked in the cavern, an unknown enemy. Kath kept her silence, weaving her way into the rock labyrinth.

  Time had no measure in the cavern but she felt the need to hurry. The scent of the wolf grew stronger, but it also changed. The fear deepened to a suffocating scent, threatening to infect her. Kath fought the feeling, tightening her grip on the dagger.

  A noise came from the right, a low growl full of menace. Kath followed the sound into a narrow passageway. Shoulder-tight, the passage felt like a trap. Scents of fear and wrongness clawed at her mind, but Kath refused to flee. Clutching the dagger, she pressed forward, praying her friends still lived.

  The passage widened, opening into a small cave. Stalactites hung from the vaulted ceiling, frozen teardrops of gray stone. Kath edged towards the opening, keeping to the shadows. Growls rumbled through the cave, an angry threat of fang and claw. A great black wolf, the size of a horse, snapped and snarled at the base of a small boulder. Monstrously large, the wolf reeked of wrongness, something dark and evil. The beast leaped, teeth snapping at prey trapped atop the boulder.

  Her friends were the prey!

  Danya sat hunched atop the boulder, her face ashen, her brown hair a wild tangle, Bryx crouched by her side.

  The dark wolf leaped and snapped, slavering for the kill.

  Danya threw rocks at the wolf, but the rumbling snarls only intensified.

  Kath studied the wolf. Freakishly large and blindingly quick, the beast was a monster. She might have stood a chance with her axes, but a dagger was an invitation to death. Kath shuddered, making the hand sign against evil. Desperate for another weapon, she scanned the cavern looking for an exit or an ad
vantage, but found neither. A steep slope of rubble filled the far end, blocking the way. The cave was a trap, the wolf the stopper in the bottle.

  Faint words sounded Kath’s mind. *Hurry! The gateway threatens to close!*

  The Treespeaker’s warning spurred Kath to action. She studied the scree slope, noting the large boulder halfway up the side, a slim chance but better than nothing. Sheathing the crystal dagger, Kath stepped out of the shadows, willing Danya to see her.

  The wolf-girl lifted a hand in greeting, surprise and hope flickering across her pale face.

  Kath gestured to the scree slope, trying to signal her intent, hoping Danya understood. Ducking behind a fallen stalactite, Kath crept towards the slope, using the rubble to hide from the wolf.

  Danya must have understood. Standing atop the boulder, she yelled insults and hurled stones at the wolf.

  The beast leaped and growled, a snarl of savage anger echoing through the chamber.

  Kath quickened her pace, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She gained the base of the slope and began to climb. Rubble shifted beneath her. Using her hands for purchase, she scrambled up the steep slope. If she could reach the large boulder, she might be able to start a landslide and crush the wolf. Kath stretched for a handhold, but it gave way. Stones clattered down the slope, releasing a shower of rocks.

  The beast whirled. Quick as dark lightning, it raced up the slope, a fury of snarling teeth.

  Kath scrambled to climb out of reach, but the wolf was too quick. Teeth ripped at her boots. She glanced down and froze. The wolf’s eyes glowed red, the eyes of a demon, the red light of hell. Something intelligent stared back at her, the red eyes glowing with purpose…and hate.

  Kath kicked at the beast.

  The wolf lunged, a slavering mouthful of teeth. Kath scrabbled backwards but the scree gave way. She clung at the rubble but everything began to slide. A landslide roared down the slope. Swept downhill with the wolf, Kath tumbled against the stones. Battered from all sides, she landed on her back, the breath knocked out of her. Bruised and hurting, she clawed her way out of the rubble. Dust clouded the air. Kath fought to swallow a cough. Blinded by the dust, fear shivered through her, she couldn’t see the wolf. She forced herself to a crouch, straining to see.

  A black shape charged, knocking her onto her back. Teeth snapped at her face; a fury of drooling fangs and glowing red eyes.

  Kath got her left arm up, driving it deep into the gaping jaws. Teeth clamped on her forearm, piercing to the bone. White-hot pain seared her arm. She screamed against the agony. The wolf shook her like a rag doll, pain ripping up her arm. She fumbled for the hilt of the crystal dagger. The wolf’s jaws snapped open but she sacrificed her left arm, forcing it deeper into the wolf’s maw, keeping the jaws occupied. Teeth clamped down, ripping through skin and sinew, sending ragged waves of pain up to her shoulder. Kath bit her lip, fighting against the shock. Her right hand found the dagger’s hilt. The wolf’s breath fouled her face, blood and slaver drooling from the jaws. She thrust the dagger upward, praying to find the heart. Light flared. The crystal blade sliced into the beast like hot iron into butter. The wolf shuddered. Its red eyes blazed bright, the wicked teeth clamping on her shattered arm, locked in a death spasm. Pain nearly claimed her. With the last of her strength, Kath drove the blade deeper. A roaring sound filled the cavern. The wolf convulsed, the red eyes going dark, snuffed like the flame of a candle. Dead, the wolf slumped on top of her, a suffocating weight.

  Pain blazed through Kath, proving she still lived. She yelled for help, a weak sound, but no one answered. Pushing against the wolf’s carcass, she struggled to get free. Agony raced up her ravaged arm. She screamed as she pried her arm from the wolf’s death-bite.

  The wolf disappeared in a swirl of gray.

  Astonished, Kath sat up. Agony claimed her. The wolf was gone but her arm was still savaged. Bloody and mangled, the flesh was torn to the very bone. Pain ripped through her, lancing her very soul; a one-armed warrior was of no use. Kath cradled her torn arm and stared at the swirling fog, shivering with cold. “Danya?” Her voice sounded feeble. Kath didn’t want to give up, but she didn’t see the point in trying to crawl. Every direction looked the same, a cold gray void. Consumed by pain, Kath lay sprawled on the ground.

  *Hurry! The gate is closing!*

  Kath struggled to remain awake.

  *Hurry!*

  The voice refused to let her rest. Kath tried to remember, but her mind was fogged by pain. She reached for her gargoyle but it was gone, perhaps lost in the landslide. Despair threatened to crush her.

  *Come now!*

  A one-armed warrior was of no use, yet Kath fumbled across the ground, seeking the crystal dagger. Her hand found the hilt. A moon-bright glow beat back the darkness. The light of the blade cut through the pain fogging her mind. The crystal blade was needed in the mortal world. If nothing else, she had to return the dagger to the living. She struggled to think. A memory of Master Rizel in the Garden of Contemplation prodded her mind. Hope flared through her. Sheathing the dagger, she reached for the pouch tied to her belt. Using her teeth, she opened the leather ties. The amber pyramid tumbled into her palm. Kath closed her fist around the pyramid and reached for the magic within.

  Golden eyes stared back at her, the eyes of the forest.

  *We see you warrior of the Light.*

  A rush of beating wings surrounded her. Kath closed her eyes against the dizziness, her fist tightening on the amber pyramid. A roaring sound filled her ears. A brilliant white light beat against her closed eyelids, warmth chasing away the bone-numbing chill. A chime sounded…and then she heard the morning song of a bird. She opened her eyes and the forest was back, the Treespeaker hovering over her.

  “You have done well, warrior of the Light. The Darkness lurking in the gray veil has been vanquished, releasing your friends.”

  Questions flooded her mind but Kath didn’t have the strength to speak. Weary with pain, she fell into sleep’s oblivion.

  42

  Liandra

  Red eyes haunted the queen, the red eyes of a demon, the glowing eyes of the undead.

  “What was that thing?” Liandra paced her solar, images of the animated corpse plaguing her mind. “The public executions were meant to finish the rebellion, but instead they raised the specter of a darker threat. Perhaps we should have ordered a beheading instead of the cauldron.”

  Prince Stewart sprawled in an arm chair, his uniform rumbled, his dark eyes shadowed with lack of sleep. “Nothing should have survived the boiling cauldron. Yet the dead traitor capered in the water, as if he mocked death.” He made the hand sign against evil. “The Lord Turner must have been some kind of demon, a servant of the Dark Lord.”

  The queen shivered. “That thing was a member of our royal council, a lord of Lanverness, yet we suspected nothing.”

  “And all of Pellanor witnessed those glowing red eyes, a parboiled corpse defying death.”

  The queen stared at her royal son, disappointed that he only saw one move ahead. “Witnessing the demon is not the problem.” She shook her head. “In fact, it may work to our advantage.”

  The prince looked skeptical. “Rumors run rampant in the city. They’re saying the red comet marks the end of days. That the gates of hell will open, disgorging an army of undead to conquer the lands of Erdhe for the Dark Lord.”

  She fingered her necklace of black pearls. “We need answers not rumors. Where is Lord Highgate? We ordered him to attend us?”

  “He was called away on an urgent summons.”

  Her patience snapped. “More urgent than our summons? He should be here when we need him.”

  The prince stared, his eyes wide in astonishment.

  His surprise stopped her like a slap in the face. She ceased pacing and reached for a facade of calm. The undead traitor had unnerved her more than she cared to admit…but the queen could never lose control, always a rock of confidence for her kingdom. She settled herself in the ornate cha
ir, arranging the folds of her crimson gown, her face returning to chiseled stone. “We need answers not speculation. We must know what we fight.”

  The prince rose from his chair, pacing in front of the cold fireplace. “But aren’t you worried about panic? About the rumors raging through the city like wildfire?”

  She studied the angry red scar that ran the length of his handsome face. Her royal son had proven valiant with a sword, but he had much to learn about ruling. “The people saw a demon defy the cauldron’s boiling death…but they also saw a prince kill that same demon, taking its head with a single stroke of blue steel.” She gave him a chance to consider her words. When he said nothing, she prompted him with a question. “How goes the recruiting for the army?”

  Puzzlement scrawled across his face. “The numbers are up, more than double from a fortnight ago. Why?”

  Liandra nodded. “If anyone doubted the presence of evil, that doubt died in the courtyard. The people of Pellanor saw tangible proof that Darkness stalks our world, a force to be reckoned with. But by beheading the demon you proved that Darkness can be defeated. Men flock to join the army because they recognize the need to fight…and they trust in their warrior-prince and their queen to lead them to victory.” She shook her head. “The people of Pellanor are not the problem.”

  “Then what has you so worried?”

  She took a deep breath, deciding to give him the bitter truth. “Our problems are legion.” She gestured toward the chessboard in mid-play, white beleaguered by red. “Our army is decimated by the rebellion, making Lanverness a rich prize for our neighbors. We scramble to rebuild our forces but we may not have enough time. And now we have more than just swords to defeat.” She stared at the empty seat on the far side of the chess board. “The Dark Lord plays against us…by rules we do not understand. The game has changed. How can a demon defy death? What powers do they have? How do we defeat them? How can we fight what we do not understand?” She reached for a defeated castle, the carved ivory cool against her skin. “And one question, above all others, plagues us at night.”