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

by Karen Azinger

  A black warhorse reared out of the Mist. The rider’s armor was fearsome, his helmet forged in the shape of a skull crowned by a spiked circlet of gold, his breastplate etched like the ribs of a skeleton. Death rode a horse. The rider gestured with an iron staff and a second horde in black and gold swept across the field. The battle ebbed and flowed around Blaine as if he did not exist. A path opened to the Skeleton King. Blaine saw his chance. Raising his great blue sword in a two-handed grip, Blaine charged. “For the Octagon!”

  The warhorse reared, striking out with iron-shod hooves. Blaine ducked, lunging for the heart of the stallion. His blade struck true. The stallion dissolved in an angry swirl of white but the Skeleton King remained. Mocking laughter cut through the sounds of battle. The king raised his iron staff, the tip glowing red with a baleful light. He pointed his staff toward Blaine. Menace and magic hung in the air, binding Blaine in place. The Skelton King strode toward him. His dark armor rippled with magic, radiating fear. “Kneel to me!” The voice struck like a sword full of malice.

  “No!” Blaine fought the shackles of fear and charged. A wave of pain ripped into him, a clawed hand tearing his guts. He stared down but there was no blood, no wound. The invisible hand twisted and Blaine sank to his knees, a scream on his lips.

  The Skeleton King towered above, his staff raised to strike. Blaine’s stare fell to the blue sword still clutched in his hand. King Ursus had given him a hero’s blade yet he knelt crumpled before evil without ever striking a single blow. Anger pulsed through him; he refused to fail. Fighting the pain, he thrust upwards. His great blue sword sliced deep into the armor of the Skeleton King. Blue lightning crackled around the hilt. Dark blood dripped down the blade. The world shattered. The white returned.

  Shaking, Blaine stood, planting his feet wide in defiance. The pain was gone, the wound only a memory. He wiped the sweat from his brow and held his ground, scanning the Mist. All signs of the battle were gone, wiped clean by the infernal white. Cold fog pressed close around him, watching, judging, but Blaine was done with games. “What do you want?”

  Silence was the only answer.

  “What do you want?” His shout challenged the Mist.

  A single figure beckoned in the distance.

  Blaine gripped his sword and moved closer. Details solidified from the white. A knight stood alone in the Mist, his silver plate burnished bright, an eight pointed-star embossed on the breastplate. Gauntleted hands gripped a great sword, a winged helmet studded with stars upon his head. His face was lined with hard decisions, a black beard tinged with streaks of gray. Dark fathomless eyes heavy with the weight of too many memories pierced Blaine to the core.

  Blaine whispered, “Who are you?”

  The knight’s voice filled the Mist, coming from all directions. “You walk through the Mist without a guide. Your life is forfeit.”

  A bead of sweat trickled down Blaine’s face.

  The knight stared into his soul. “Whom do you serve?”

  “The Octagon and the princess of Castlegard.”

  “Can a sword serve two masters?”

  Blaine stared at the knight, caught off-guard by the question.

  “A day will come when you will have to choose.”

  Blaine shook his head, angry at the question. “What games are you playing? Who are you?”

  “One of your party carries a crystal dagger. Long have we waited for its return. We give you warning. Dark times are coming.” The knight’s voice deepened. “Your life is forfeit but you fought for the sake of honor and the Light. Every blade will be needed for the trials ahead.” The knight lifted his great sword, pointing the tip at Blaine’s heart. “The Guardians charge you to keep your vow to the one who wields the crystal dagger. She is the pivot of this time.” The tip of the great sword rested against Blaine’s chest. It felt like steel not illusion.

  “Knight of the Octagon, will you be true?”

  The question rang through the Mist, as if challenging Blaine’s very soul. He met the knight’s penetrating stare. “By Valin and the Lords of Light, I do swear.”

  A ripple passed through the knight and his face began to fade. The knight grimaced as if struggling to hold his form. For a moment, Blaine thought a different face peered out from the Mist, a dark-haired woman, but then the knight’s eyes blazed and the sharpness returned. “Be warned. The battlefield was a memory of the Mist, an echo from an age long gone. You must learn from the past to win the future. For a thousand years, the Enemy has grown in power and cunning. Swords must fight, but it will take more than steel to defeat this evil.” The knight gave a Blaine a crooked smile. “We release you from the Mist, Sir Blaine, go forth to fight another day.” The knight dissolved into the white.

  Blaine stepped forward. “No, wait! Who are you? How do you know so much?”

  The Mist swirled. Blaine thought the knight returned, but then a blue-robed figure stepped through the white, chestnut hair framing a heart-shaped face. The guide’s face blanched white. “You live!” She gripped his hand, flesh against flesh, wonder on her face. “No one ever survives alone in the Mist.” She studied his face, as if seeking an answer to a riddle. “Come, your friends await.”

  Shaken by his experience, he followed the guide, but this time the Mist was empty of illusions, nothing but damp cloud. Blaine took a single step and the world changed. Sunlight and the clear mountain air returned in a rush. Breathing deep, he purged his lungs of the taint of magic.

  A cry of joy echoed against the mountains. Kath raced across the distance, wrapping Blaine in a fierce embrace. “I knew you’d find a way!” Tears hung in her sea green eyes.

  He stared down at her, touched by her tears, realizing he felt more for her than just duty. His voice was rough with meaning. “I’ll always be there for you.” For a moment, they stood alone, and Blaine hoped she understood. She gazed up at him, her voice a soft whisper. “I never doubted you,” but then she stepped away and her smile held nothing but friendship.

  Blaine struggled to hide his feelings. He felt the Mist watching at his back, bearing witness. “I swore before but this time I mean it. My sword is yours.” He dropped to his knee, extending the sapphire hilt. She touched his hand and the bond of loyalty tightened between them. The moment passed and the other companions crowded around, pounding his back in celebration.

  The voice of the guide cut through the gathering. “What did you see in the Mist?”

  The others fell silent.

  “I met the Guardian. He warned that dark times are coming.”

  The guide blanched. “You saw one of the Guardians?” The monk shook her head. “There is more here than meets the eye. Truly, this is a riddle for the Grand Master.” She added in a quiet voice, “Come, I’ll take you to the monastery now.”

  The companions turned as one to look at the goal of their long journey. Rising to three times the height of a tall man, the gray stone wall stretched across the meadow, seamless except for a pair of iron bound doors. Inlayed with gold, the massive doors each bore a stylized Seeing Eye, like the tattoos on the hands of the monks. Perhaps it was a lingering effect of the Mist, but to Blaine the monastery seemed like a huge stone beast crouched at the very edge of the world, watching through golden eyes. Blaine sheathed his sword, prepared to follow his princess into the very belly of the beast.

  79

  Katherine

  Mage-stone! Kath stood rooted to the ground, staring up at the monastery walls. So seamless they looked poured and molded from molten granite, the same as her beloved Castlegard. But mage-stone was rare, very rare. She never expected the monastery and the castle to share a common heritage; another question to add to her growing list. Kath hoped the monks were good with answers.

  A bell clanged and the lead reindeer emerged from the Mist. The sound startled Kath, she’d forgotten the pack deer. She turned to watch as the other deer emerged from the white. Once all the reindeer were accounted for, Blaine reclaimed the rope of the lead reindeer and they
followed the guide to the massive gates. Golden eyes engraved on the doors watched their approach. Kath couldn’t decide if the eyes were welcoming or forbidding.

  A small gong hung suspended from a wooden frame. The guide used the striker to announce their arrival. Kath covered her ears, but the smaller gong had a sweet voice.

  The massive doors swung open.

  Kath held her breath, not sure what to expect. After the Mist, anything seemed possible…but the gates swung open without spectacle or sign of magic, pushed by a pair of golden robed monks. But even something so ordinary could not dim her curiosity. She followed the guide through the gates, eager for answers.

  Color. Intense color was Kath’s first impression. The monastery gates opened onto a rectangular courtyard awash with a rich yellow-gold color. Painted on the mage-stone floor, and the nine doors opening onto the yard, the courtyard glowed like captured sunlight. But gold was not the only color. Bold brushstrokes of ruby red, emerald green and sapphire blue enlivened the mage-stone walls. Each wall was a canvas of illuminated texts painted in rich jewel tones. Swirls of calligraphy adorned with birds and vines and castles and knights, covered the walls with stunning detail. Everywhere she looked, vibrant texts seemed to leap from the walls, ensnaring the eye and begging to be read. Taken as a whole, the courtyard might have appeared garish or gaudy but instead it somehow seemed tasteful and infinitely intriguing. Colors and complexity teased the eye, engaging Kath’s imagination. She felt as if she’d lived in a black and white world all of her life.

  Summer was her second impression. An unexpected warmth cloaked the monastery, as if summer hid behind the stout mage-stone walls. A dry heat radiated up through her boots, warm and welcoming. It seemed an impossible illusion till Kath noticed the raised flowerbeds. Outside the gates, the alpine plants struggled to show the first green of spring but inside the courtyard the same plants were in full bloom. The monastery was full of surprises, the boon of summer an unexpected gift.

  A rhythmic clacking filled the courtyard. Curious, Kath drifted towards the sound, discovering a second sunken courtyard four times the size of the first. Rows of monks in robes of gold and midnight blue practiced below. Quarterstaffs whirled and stuck with blinding speed, marking the rhythm of war.

  Kath leaned on the balcony, watching the martial display. The practice was truly impressive. So this was the reason the gatekeeper and the guide both carried wooden staffs. Kath smiled, relieved to discover the monks had a martial side. She would have been deeply disappointed if the monastery turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of musty old hermits studying ancient tomes.

  Duncan joined her on the balcony, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I always thought the quarterstaff was a peasant's weapon, yet the monks make it look formidable.” He gave her a wry smile. “Perhaps there’s something here for each of us to learn.” But then his face sobered. “Be wary of the monks, Kath. They speak the truth yet their words carry layers of hidden meaning.” His voice dropped to a hush, “Kingdoms could flounder in those meanings.”

  Kath knew what he meant, but before she could reply, the guide called them back to the courtyard.

  “My duty ends at the gates.” The blue-robed guide gestured toward the reindeer. “Please remove your packs and I’ll lead the reindeer back to your guardsmen waiting on the far side of the Mist.”

  The companions quickly sorted through the packs. With thanks to the guide, they watched as the monk led the reindeer back out through the gates, disappearing into the Mist. Kath shivered as the Mist swallowed the last of the reindeer. Magic was hard to get used to.

  Beside her, Duncan echoed her thoughts. “The Mist is a formidable barrier, but is it meant to keep intruders out…or to lock us in?”

  She gave him a wary nod, another question needing an answer.

  Turning back to the courtyard, they found five golden-robed monks waiting. A tall monk with close cropped blond hair and a ready smile approached Kath. “Greetings. My name is Bryce. I am an initiate of the Kiralynn Order and I’ll be your guide for your first few weeks at the monastery.” Giving Kath a welcoming smile, he added, “Might I know your name?”

  “Princess Katherine of Castlegard, but call me Kath.”

  “Kath it is then.” With an answering smile, he waved toward the mound of packs. “Let me help you with your things and I’ll show you to your quarters.”

  “What about my companions?”

  “They each have their own guides. The monastery is a labyrinth of passageways. First time visitors often find it confusing, and besides, guests usually have a never-ending stream of questions. The masters always assign one senior initiate to each guest to make sure your needs are cared for.” Shrugging, Bryce added, “It is our custom, a way to help guests become acquainted with our ways.”

  Kath decided she liked the custom, it sounded both polite and civilized. She joined the others in sorting through the mound of packs. Her belongings made a small pile, a bedroll, a saddlebag stuffed full of clothes from Pellanor, a small round shield, a chainmail shirt, her garnet helm, a gift from Sir Cardemir, and a leather rucksack with her few valuables.

  “Is this all of it?”

  Now that she looked at it, it seemed a meager pile, but she’d never cared much for clothes. With her rucksack slung over her shoulder, she picked up the shield and the heavy sack with her chainmail, leaving her guide to grab her saddlebag and the bedroll. Burdened with gear, Bryce led her to one of the golden doors at the far end of the courtyard. The others followed, bedrolls and saddlebags slung over their shoulders.

  The door opened onto a maze of corridors, revealing a blaze of colors. All the floors glowed a warm golden-yellow color while every wall was adorned with illuminated text. Elegant calligraphy filled every corridor, giving the impression that the monks did not waste a single surface that could be used for writing or illustration, a true testament to their love of knowledge. Each wall seemed more beautiful and fascinating than the last. Intrigued by everything she saw, Kath rushed to keep pace with her guide.

  Bryce set a fast pace, offering a running commentary as they made their way through the corridors. “You probably noticed the warmth of the monastery. It’s the first thing most visitors comment on. There’s a simple explanation and it’s not magic.” He glanced back over his shoulder, as if checking to see she was listening. Satisfied, he continued without breaking stride, “Built over natural hot springs, the monastery was designed with hot water pipes running through the floors and even some of the walls. We also have the most marvelous baths for soaking. After a hard practice session with quarterstaffs, there’s nothing better.”

  They came to an intersection of four corridors. Without hesitating, he chose the corridor on the right, pointing out a bronze bell suspended in the corner. “You’ll find bells like these in all the intersections. First-year initiates ring the bells at the beginning and the end of each meal. We have three meals a day, at sunrise, noon, and sunset. Each meal service lasts for exactly one turn of the hourglass. If you don’t make it to one of the common rooms in time then the cooks assume you’ve decided to fast, so heed the bell if you don’t want to go hungry.” As an afterthought he added, “The bells are also rung if there’s a fire, but there’s never been one for as long as I’ve lived here, so you needn’t worry.”

  He turned into a side corridor and stopped at the fourth door in the hallway. Opening the golden door, he gestured for Kath to enter. “This will be your room for the duration of your stay.”

  She entered the small spare room, not sure what to expect. Ten feet in length and six feet wide, the cell was empty except for a narrow bed and a small table with a lantern. A row of hooks ran along one wall. A small square window at the far end let in the afternoon light. Except for the yellow-gold floor, the room was plain and unadorned, almost peaceful in its simplicity. It was the first room she’d seen that looked like it belonged in a monastery.

  “It’s not much but it’s home.” Bryce stacked her belong
ings in the corner. “I know it’s small, but everyone in the monastery has the same size room. It’s even said the Grand Master’s room is no bigger than an ordinary cell.”

  Kath started to say it was fine, but then she noticed there was no chamber pot. Flushing red, she had to ask. “What do I do for a chamber pot?”

  “The privy is just down the end of the corridor.” Pausing, he added, “Best I show you. Most visitors find it unusual.”

  “Unusual?” Puzzled, Kath followed him back down the corridor. Near the end of the hall they came to a golden door with a dark blue half moon painted in the center.

  “Doors marked with a half moon are privies. Don’t ask me why a half moon is used to denote a privy. No one seems to know the reason but it’s the same all over the monastery, some sort of tradition that’s lost to the ages.” Pausing, he added, “Best to knock before entering.” When there was no response, he opened the moon-marked door, revealing a small room with a stone bench along one wall and an enclosed basin on the other. The round hole cut in the bench was self-explanatory but the clean smell amazed Kath. Even the best-kept privies were haunted with a foul odor. Sniffing, she approached the bench.

  Bryce must have seen the puzzlement on her face. “Separate pipes run under the bench for wastes. If you look through the hole you’ll find a stream of running water below. Everything gets swept away so there’s no mess or smell.”

  Kath peered through the hole, shocked by the flowing stream. Truly, the monks were amazing.

  “You can wash here.” Bryce pointed to the steady stream of water flowing into the washbasin. “The water is always warm. For bathing, we have the hot springs. I’ll show you the baths tomorrow.” Seeing Kath’s wide-eyed amazement, he chuckled. “I know. Most visitors can’t get over the privies. Sometimes I think they’re more impressed with the privies than all the magic of the monastery.”