The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1)

by Karen Azinger

  Blaine looked at the black knight. Sir Tyrone met his gaze and nodded. Astonished, Blaine asked, “So what did the god say?”

  “It didn’t make a lot of sense. The voice said that I was an old soul; dedicated to serving the Lords of Light, and that I should stand fast. Then the voice said something about finding a fox in the forest, a wolf in the mists, and a summons from the mountains. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “No.” He paused. “So do you even know which god spoke through the mystic?”

  “The voice that took over the mystic was raspy and masculine, so I assumed it was Valin.”

  Blaine gaped, thunderstruck.

  “I heard the voice as well.” Sir Tyrone said. “The god claimed to speak for the Lords of Light.”

  Blaine struggled to understand. If the god of warriors was taking a direct interest in the Imp, then he had seriously underestimated her. He stared at Kath, seeing her in a new light. She was a princess of Castlegard, with a preternatural skill for weapons. Looking back on how quickly she’d taken to the sword, he wondered if she really did hold the favor of the warrior god. Meeting her stare, he said in a solemn voice, “I believe you. After all, you’re a princess of Castlegard, a child of the Octagon. What place in all of Erdhe honors Valin more than Castlegard?”

  She smiled, a glow of gratitude in her eyes. Blaine had to look away; struck to the heart. “So what do the gods want?” he said after a moment.

  “That’s the problem; the message doesn’t really make sense. I’m meant to wield a sword in the service of the Lords of Light, but apart from that, I don’t really understand what the gods want.”

  Sir Tyrone said, “I am sure the message will become clear with time.”

  Kath looked at the dark knight. “Yes, but how much time do we have?”

  “That I do not know, my lady.”

  The three companions rode together in silence. Dark forests pressed close to the narrow road, the scent of pine thick in the air. Looking over at Kath, Blaine said, “If Valin has a task for you, then you best be prepared for it. I think we should resume your weapons training.”

  His suggestion brought an eager light to the girl’s eyes. “I agree.”

  “You’re good with your throwing axes but you could be better with the sword. When we stop tonight, I’ll borrow two short swords from the squires and give you a lesson with real steel. We dare not waste the warning of the gods.”

  As the sun dipped toward the horizon, they started to look for a place to spend the night. This part of Wyeth proved to be a wild, untamed land, full of dark forests and rocky outcrops with only a few farms and holdfasts clawed out between the old growth trees. Eventually they found a solitary roadhouse with a sagging roof overgrown with moss and the sign so faded the few remaining letters made no sense. The ramshackle inn offered little hope of comfort, but they would make do.

  The innkeeper turned out to be as decrepit as the inn. Hunched with age, the old man gave the knights a thin welcome and showed them to rooms flush with cobwebs and the musty scent of mildew. After dumping their gear, Blaine, Kath, and Sir Tyrone met behind the roadhouse for sword training. Under a twilight sky, Blaine sparred with the girl while Sir Tyrone barked a running commentary. Kath showed no fear of real steel, opening with a flurry of attacks and Blaine pressed her hard. They fought till the last light faded. When Blaine finally called a halt, Kath was swaying from exhaustion and drenched with sweat. He stared at her with renewed respect. Despite her handicap of size and strength, she’d put up a good fight. He saluted her with his sword, winning a weary smile. They sheathed their blades and retreated to the common room, hungry for dinner.

  As Blaine scraped the last of the venison stew from his bowl, he was surprised to hear a soft snore to his left. Kath sat slumped over her stew, sound asleep. Chuckling, he prodded her awake and walked her to her room, then returned to the common room to share a pitcher of ale with Tyrone.

  Pouring himself a tankard, Blaine said, “So what do you make of this talk of gods?”

  “If I hadn’t been there myself, I wouldn’t believe it. The god named her the Queen of Swords.”

  “But she’s only a girl!”

  Sir Tyrone gave him a piercing stare. “You know better than that.”

  Blaine’s heart hammered in his chest, recognizing the truth. “But what do the gods want?”

  “I wish I knew. Valin spoke to me as well. He said my destiny was tied to hers, that I shouldn’t leave her side.” His face grew solemn. “When we reach Lanverness, I will stay on with her. I don’t know what the gods want of her, but she’ll have my sword to guard her back.”

  Blaine sat dumbstruck. Why had the gods spoken to the girl and the black knight, yet said nothing to him? He was the one carrying a hero’s blue sword, yet the gods ignored him. If Kath was destined for high adventure, then Blaine refused to be left out. Raising his tankard, he said, “She’ll have two swords to guard her back, brother, not one.”

  25

  Katherine

  Kath struggled for breath. What little air she managed to get reeked of rotten meat. Clawing her way out of a bad dream, she opened her eyes and stared into the hideous face of an ogre. She gasped in disbelief, but the meaty hand smothering her face and the hairy arm pinning her to the bed were both real. She screamed but only a muffled croak escaped.

  The ogre flashed a crooked grin full of sharp teeth and then scooped Kath up against his barrel chest, keeping one hand over her mouth. She kicked against him, but he ignored her blows. She tried to scream but could barely get enough air to breathe. Squirming, she struggled for freedom but the ogre just tightened his bone-crushing grip. Someone opened the door to her room and the giant carried her down the hallway, through the common room, and out into the cool night air.

  She caught a glimpse of the rising crescent moon and knew the knights must still be sleeping. Listening for voices, she heard only the thundering of her own heart.

  The ogre carried her across the road, plunging into the undergrowth of the forest. Panic bit deep, giving her a surge of wild strength, but her struggles were in vain.

  Leaves and branches slapped against her, bending but not breaking. The ogre walked with a ground eating pace. Dark and forbidding, the midnight forest swallowed Kath and her abductors. Deep into the forest, the ogre came to an abrupt stop, dumping Kath onto a bed of leaves. She landed hard, the breath rushing out of her. Before she could make a move to escape, the ogre pinned her to the ground. Ropes looped around her ankles, arms, and hands, proving the ogre had an accomplice. Bound and trussed like a pig for the market, Kath glared at her captors.

  Out of the dark, an oily voice said, “Well done, Tiny.” A man’s face loomed down at her. Dark eyes set over a hawk nose studied her like a fresh found coin. “No use struggling, girlie, the prize needs to behave itself if it doesn’t want to be hurt. Do you understand, girlie? Blink if you do.”

  Kath didn’t understand anything but not having any choice in the matter she blinked.

  “I’m going to tell Tiny to remove his hand and we are going to put this nice leather gag in your mouth. The prize will be quiet and take the gag or I’ll let Tiny play with her. We’re too far away for those shiny knights to hear your screams, so you'd best cooperate.”

  The ogre removed his hand and the oily man forced a leather gag into her mouth. It all happened so quickly Kath hardly had time to take a deep breath. The gag tasted foul but at least she could breathe. She flexed her back, testing the ropes. There was no play in the knots; she was bound tight.

  The man said, “Bolo, come over here and make sure the prize is intact.”

  A dwarf bent over her, his nose hovering inches from her waist, making a snuffling sound like a hound after a scent. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. There was no mistaking the cruel eyes and the yellow teeth filed to sharp points. Recognizing the goblin-man from the Isle of Souls, Kath let out a muffled scream.

  The goblin-man cackled at her distress then reached
beneath her tunic, withdrawing the little gargoyle tied by a leather thong around her neck. In a deep voice that didn’t fit with his stunted body, he said, “The prize is here, captain.”

  The man with the oily voice leaned over, peering at the gargoyle. Kath expected him to take it, but instead he tucked it back inside her tunic. “Bring her.”

  The ogre scooped her up and threw her face down across the back of a horse like a sack of goods, tying her to the saddle. Looking at the world upside-down, Kath tried to take stock of the situation. There seemed to be four of them: the man with the oily voice, the ogre, the goblin-man, and a second man who carried a bow. The goblin-man rode a pony and the ogre rode a huge draft horse. The knights would have no problem catching up to the pony and the draft horse, provided they knew the direction to ride. Finding the trail was the part that worried her. The knights were peerless fighters but they weren’t known for their skills of woodcraft. Kath knew she should leave some sort of trail, but with her hands bound tight there wasn’t anything she could do.

  The group set off at a gallop, moving deeper into the heart of the forest. Flopping against the side of the horse, the blood rushed to Kath’s head. She tried to take note of any landmarks, but she soon passed out. When she came to, she was propped against a tree, still bound and gagged, her body bruised and sore. Desperately thirsty and needing to relieve herself, she tried to scream through the gag. The muffled noise got the attention of the oily man who seemed to be in charge of the marauders.

  “So the prize finally wakes!” He squatted next to her, peering at her face. “We’re deep in the forest, girlie, where your shiny knights will never find us. Screaming will not bring your friends, but it will annoy me. If I remove the gag, will the prize behave and be quiet? Blink if you agree.”

  Kath decided being able to talk would be a good start toward getting free. Meeting the oily man’s stare, she blinked and then the man reached over and removed the gag.

  Working some saliva back into her mouth, Kath croaked, “Water?”

  Holding a flagon of water to her lips, he let her drink her fill. Then she said, “What do you want with me?”

  The captain patted her chest. It seemed to Kath that he was making sure the gargoyle was still in place. “The prize will be well treated if she behaves. If she gives us any trouble then there will be pain. Does the prize understand?”

  “Yes, I will behave, but what do you want with me?”

  “We serve a master who collects magic. Bolo found you on the Isle of Souls. Those shiny knights think they’re invincible, but they weren’t watching, were they? They weren’t protecting the prize.” The man leaned close, his fetid breath hot on her face. “The prize is destined for the master.” Getting to his feet, he added, “We’ll rest for a while and I’ll leave the gag out of your mouth if you behave. Does the prize agree?”

  “I’ll behave, but I need to relieve myself. Please?”

  The man gave her a calculating look. “It is useless to think of escape. Bolo is a hound of the Dark Lord and he has your scent now, the scent of your magic. You cannot hide from him. If I loose your bonds, you will relieve yourself and then meekly submit to the ropes again. Does the prize agree?”

  Trying to look meek, Kath nodded. “I agree.”

  The man went to his horse and returned with a thick leather collar and a leash. He fixed the collar around Kath’s neck and gave the leash a vicious yank. The collar constricted, cutting off her air. She struggled for breath, pain radiating from her neck. When he worked the collar loose, Kath gasped like a fish out of water, pretending to more distress than she actually felt, buying time to think. The leash made her feel like a dog, but the humiliation would be worth it if she could get her hands free.

  “You see what the leash does. The prize will obey.” The captain kept a tight rein on the leash, as he untied the knots that bound her and then jerked the leash, bringing Kath to her feet. She swayed, struggling to stand, her legs and feet full of jabbing needles. He tugged on the leash and Kath tottered after him. He led her behind a screen of bushes and turned to stare at her. “Do it here.”

  She glared at him, but his leering smile only widened. Anger burned within her. Asking for privacy would only give him pleasure. She looked away from him and pulled down her leggings to squat, trying to pretend she was alone in the woods. Finished, she rose and stared meekly at the ground, hiding her fury. The man was watching her too closely. Now was not the time to try to escape.

  With a jerk of the leash, he led her back to the clearing. He pushed her down to the ground, putting her back against a tree and tying her hands tight. Before he could tie her feet, Kath said, “If you leave my feet free, I can ride the horse and you’ll make better time.” Casting her eyes to the ground, she made herself meek and small. “Please? I won’t give you any trouble.”

  The man rocked back on his heels, studying her. “The prize has been good so far. I’ll leave your feet untied, but see to it that you do not disappoint me.” With the extra length of rope, the man lashed her to the tree. After double-checking the knots, he removed the leash from around her neck. Taking the leather gag out of his pocket, the man said, “The prize will open her mouth to take the gag.”

  Having no choice, Kath submitted.

  The man felt under her tunic to make sure the gargoyle was in place and then left to join his companions on the far side of the clearing.

  Kath strained to eavesdrop but she couldn’t hear anything useful. She flexed her arms and tried to move her hands, but the ropes were too secure. At least her legs were untied, one step closer to freedom. She thanked the gods that she’d been so tired after sword practice that she’d fallen into bed fully dressed, not even bothering to take her boots off. Six inches of good Castlegard steel was strapped inside her right boot. The dagger gave her courage, but she’d have to wait till the time was right. She knew she’d only get one chance.

  26

  Danly

  Images of his one night with the Lord Raven pulsed in Danly’s mind. The courtesan had been nimble and the man relentless. Danly’s blood burned with need. He whipped the black stallion into a faster gallop, racing across the autumn countryside, leaving his guard and the capital city far behind.

  Cresting a hill crowned with oak trees, the small village came into sight. Danly slowed the lathered stallion to a walk. Approaching the outskirts, he straightened his green velvet jacket and tossed his emerald cape over his shoulder, knowing his good looks and princely attire would attract the stares of the village lasses.

  Tinkers’ wagons painted in a riot of bright colors crowded the heart of the village. Women carrying baskets circled the wagons like bees to flowers. Danly smiled at the familiar chaos. He made it a habit to visit the outlying villages on their market days, the perfect opportunity to see what treasures the villagers had to offer. Keeping his stallion on a tight rein, he meandered through the wagons and stalls, looking for sellers of ribbons and buttons. Village girls always gravitated to the bright fabrics and shiny trinkets.

  Nothing caught his fancy till he came to a stall selling velvet ribbons. A golden beauty bent over the table intently studying the wares. Young and ripe, the lass was just what Danly needed. Dismounting, he led his stallion toward the stall. As if she felt his stare, the girl turned her head slightly. Her face was young and fresh, the crisp autumn air painting a rosy glow on her dimpled cheeks. Making his decision, the prince closed the distance. Leaning beside her, he selected a ribbon of green velvet and held it up to the girl’s tawny hair. “This color becomes you, my lady. Allow me to buy it for you as it was obviously meant for you alone.”

  The girl’s brown eyes warily assessed his expensive clothes and fine physique. A blush crept across her face. “Please do not trouble yourself on my account, my lord.”

  The prince handed a gold coin to the eager merchant. “See, it is already done. The ribbon is yours.” Pressing it into her hand, he added, “You must accept it or I will feel your village has no hosp
itality.”

  The lass took it, bobbing a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.”

  The merchant entered the game, a gleam of avarice in his eyes. “The ribbon only costs two silvers, sir. Would you have your change or would the lady care to select something else?”

  Turning to the girl, the prince said in mock distress, “The merchant holds my gold! My lady, you must help me choose something else. Perhaps buttons to go with your ribbon and something for your mother? Surely you will help me spend my gold?”

  Delighted by his mock plea, the girl turned to examine the other ribbons. Danly took his time musing over the merchant’s wares. Each ribbon had to be held to the girl’s hair to find just the right match, their hands casually touching as more time went on. The merchant played along, searching through his wares for the most expensive ribbons. When the purchases were finally selected and wrapped, the prince took the girl’s elbow and steered her toward the food stalls at the back of the market. “All this shopping has given me a fierce hunger, would you share a bite to eat with me?”

  Falling into step with Danly, the girl replied, “You must try our candied apples, lord, they’re the best in all of Lanverness.”

  He followed the girl to the stall, letting his hand rest lightly on the small of her back, eager for his afternoon treat. Glancing around, he spied his two guards following a discreet distance behind. With a subtle wave, he acknowledged their presence. He could trust them to keep their distance as they were both familiar with his habits.

  Turning back to the apple vendor, the prince flashed his gold and bought two candied apples. The caramel-covered apple was too sweet for his tastes, but he praised it to please the girl and steered her away from the bustle. Out of sight of the market, he leaned close to her. “You are too beautiful to let caramel blemish your face.” Brushing his lips against the girl’s soft skin, he gently nibbled caramel from her cheek. The girl trembled under his touch but she did not pull away.