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

by Karen Azinger

  Kath said, “You’re leaving us?” She’d only known the master for a few days but she valued his wisdom and his advice.

  An enigmatic smile played across the master’s sun-weathered face. “You’ll be fine.” Gesturing toward the dais, he added, “The words of the Grand Master are for you and your companions alone. May you find wisdom in his words.” He bowed towards her and then left the chamber, closing the golden doors behind him.

  The chamber seemed suddenly empty. Kath and the two knights settled on the cushions strewn at the foot of the dais. They sat close like allies expecting an ambush. Sir Tyrone leaned toward her, his voice a low whisper. “Why are we summoned to audience?”

  She shared her guess. “The crystal dagger.”

  His eyes widened. “So you told them?”

  Kath nodded. “We need to know what it does, what it’s for.” She thought she saw approval in his dark brown eyes.

  They settled down to wait. Like a temple to knowledge, the chamber discouraged idle talk. The silent waiting wore on Kath’s nerves. She stared at the star screen, her mind full of questions, her stomach clenched tight as a fist. Hopes and doubts assailed her, wondering what answers the monks might hold.

  The gong rang a second time, startling her.

  A silver-haired monk emerged from behind the screen, age marking his face with a map of wrinkles. Bowing to Kath and her companions, he settled on a cushion to the right of the screen. Removing a flint striker from the folds of his robe, he lit a silver brazier set into the dais. Flames leaped up, giving off the sweet scent of incense.

  The gong rang a third time.

  The silver-haired monk began to speak, his rich-timbered voice full of solemnity. “The Grand Master of the Kiralynn Order is present. Be aware that he sees you, he hears you. I am the Voice; in my tongue will you hear the words of the Grand Master.” He raised his hand to reveal the tattoo of the Seeing Eye. “Seek knowledge…Protect knowledge…Share knowledge. Let the audience begin.”

  A presence seemed to fill the chamber.

  Kath held her breath, waiting to see the face of the Grand Master. When no one appeared, she understood the function of the magnificent star screen. She stared at the screen, trying to sense the man hidden behind the stars.

  The silver-haired monk reached behind the screen, accepting a scroll of parchment. Unrolling the scroll, the Voice began to read, “The crystal dagger has chosen a bearer.” Kath felt the hand of destiny reach towards her. “The Blade that Slays Souls has returned, heralding a time of prophecy. A future long foretold unfolds. Know that your presence here is not an accident, but by grand design. The Lords of Light assemble those who will stand against the gathering Dark.”

  The sound of the gong shimmered through the room. Kath leaned forward, hearing the summons of the gods.

  “To understand the future, one must first look to the past. Centuries before the War of Wizards, the Kiralynn Order was founded by scholars possessing a rare and powerful magic known as the Orb of Seeing. The Orb cast visions of possible futures. Many of those futures were dark and dire, where mankind fell under the eternal lash of the Dark Lord. Appalled by the horrors, the monks dedicated their lives to studying the Orb. The masters came to understand that because the gods gifted man with free will, the future is not set. The choices we make today can change what is to come. For a few individuals, the choices are pivotal.”

  The Voice looked up from the scroll, staring straight at Kath. His gaze stabbed into her, issuing a silent challenge. She met his stare, refusing to look away.

  The Voice continued reading, “The Orb showed the monks a myriad of futures, a spectrum of possibilities, but the masters discovered that there are key events common to many futures. A change in these events signals a major divergence in the fate of the world. Some of these divergences bring peace while others bring great victories for the Dark Lord. The masters used the Orb to search out the events that led to the grimmest futures, discovering ways to oppose the Dark Lord’s plans. The result of this great work is the Book of Prophecy. Like most of the great magics, the Orb was destroyed in the War of Wizards, but the Book remains as one of the Order’s greatest treasures. Using the Book as a guide, the Order has worked through the centuries to thwart the will of the Dark Lord.”

  The Voice paused to survey his audience. When no one spoke he continued, “The discovery of the crystal dagger is heralded within one of the quatrains of the Book of Prophecy, one of the darkest futures foretold by the Orb. Listen and learn.” Taking a deep breath, the Voice read in a sonorous voice,

  The Lost Dagger claims an ill-refuted heir,

  The Liar King awakes behind safest walls,

  Fire burns the sky yet kingdoms remain unaware,

  Darkness arises yet steel alone cannot prevail.

  The words thundered in Kath’s soul. She’d left Castlegard hoping to make a difference with her sword and now destiny leaped to embrace her.

  The Voice stared at each of the companions, his gaze coming to rest on Kath. “If choices are not made, if events are not changed, then the kingdoms of Erdhe will succumb to the rule of the Dark Lord. A tidal wave of Darkness will sweep down from the north. The first to fall will be the Octagon Knights.”

  “No!” Kath leaped to her feet, raising her voice to a clarion shout. “This cannot be! The Knights will never fail.” Her unbridled defiance echoed through the chamber, as if challenging the gods. But the echo soon faded and she blanched, realizing she’d interrupted the words of the Grand Master. Embarrassed but undaunted, Kath stood her ground. Crossing her arms, she sent a stubborn glare at the star screen issuing a silent challenge. If the monks knew so much, let them steer a course past this terrible future.

  A deep stillness descended on the chamber, the sound of a quill scratching against parchment the only sound. Self-conscious, Kath resumed her seat but her stare never wavered from the screen.

  The scratch of the quill stopped.

  The Voice received a second scroll. Unrolling the scroll, he read, “We are not the pivots of this future. You are. Others have significant roles to play, but the wielder of the crystal dagger must avert the gathering Dark. Your choices, and the choices of your companions, will make the greatest difference.”

  Kath sat stunned. The words brought meaning to the strange riddle of her life. “What must I do?”

  Returning to the scroll, the Voice read, “The Book of Prophecy provides guidance to avert the darkest futures. Listen to the wisdom of the Book;

  Faith follows lies and multitudes march,

  Rose and Harp must find the foil,

  Flames burn bright and carrion birds soar,

  The Elder leaps forward lest ashes till the soil.

  We believe this quatrain refers to the rise of the Flame God in Coronth. The queen of Lanverness will stand against this cruelty of the Flames but without the advice and aid of the Elder, the Kiralynn Order, there will be little hope for victory. For this quatrain, the burden of choice rests with the queen and the Order, but the second quatrain is the true crux of the future. The outcome of this quatrain depends on your choices.

  The Reborn rides north to the dark fist of stone,

  The Blade must strike true ere the comet fades,

  North becomes south as castles fall,

  Victory balances on the unforeseen blade.

  The Voice let the parchment curl, holding it above the flames of the brazier. Knowledge flared bright and then faded to nothing. “Taken together, the three quatrains predict a war in the heart of the southern kingdoms and a second, more terrible war loosed from the North. The North is the domain of the Mordant, the oldest of the Harlequins.”

  Beside her, Sir Tyrone muttered, “The dark fist of stone…the citadel of the Mordant!”

  The Mordant, the ancient enemy of Castlegard, Kath felt the call to battle echo within her very blood.

  The scratch of a quill filled the chamber. The Voice reached behind the screen to accept a third scroll. “A thousand y
ears of evil must come to an end. Will the Wielder of the Crystal Dagger see the Blade to the finish? Will the princess of Castlegard seek out the Mordant and forever end his life?”

  Kath sat frozen, stunned by the words. Destiny had come for her but it seemed an impossible task.

  “Will you send her to her death?” Blaine’s outburst surprised Kath, a look of anger riding his face. “The Mordant rules from the Dark Citadel, an impenetrable stronghold set deep in the north. All the knights of the Octagon could not breach that foul fortress.”

  An angry quill scratched across parchment. The Voice read, “Such doubt does not become a champion of the Octagon.”

  Blaine began to rise, but Kath gripped his arm. “Let it go.”

  He gave her an incredulous stare, his words an angry whisper. “These monks cower in their monastery. They don’t understand the danger of the North.”

  “Let’s hear them out.”

  Their stares locked, but then he gave her a terse nod, sinking back to the cushions.

  The Voice continued. “You misunderstand the task. According to all the signs, the Mordant is not yet Reborn. A red comet tearing the sky will herald his return. Prophecy predicts that the oldest harlequin will arise within the Southern Kingdoms, sowing Darkness beneath a new face, a new guise.”

  The answer took Kath by surprise. “So how do we find him? I don’t even know what he looks like.”

  “The prophecies are unclear. Some believe that he will find you.”

  He will find me, a bolt of fear spiked through Kath. The Mordant had long been the bane of Castlegard, a powerful enemy, yet she was expected to slay him with a mere dagger? Only the gods could ask for such an impossible feat. She fingered the hilt of her sword, the sword she’d fought so hard to gain, and her thoughts turned in a different direction. In her mind’s eye she saw Castlegard proud and undefeated. She saw the captain putting the hated leash around her throat, treating her like a slave. She saw wisdom and unexpected friendship in the face of the queen of Lanverness. She saw wonder and forgotten knowledge in every corner of the monastery. They were images worth fighting for, worth fighting against. She’d asked the gods for a chance to make a difference and it seemed they’d heard her prayers. Kath took a deep breath and rose to her feet.

  Behind her, the two Octagon Knights rose as one, their swords whispering from their scabbards.

  Their strength gave her strength, she would not fight alone. Kath reached for her own sword, a simple infantry sword made of good Castlegard steel, and unsheathed the blade. The magnitude of the task beat against her like a battering ram, yet she forced the words out. “I will end this evil, so help me, Valin!”

  A chime sounded.

  A rush of power flooded Kath’s veins like an elixir.

  “The vow is made before the gods. May the Lords of Light guide your hand and the crystal dagger strike true.” The Voice bowed toward her and then disappeared behind the star screen.

  Kath lowered her sword and stood waiting, but nothing more was said. The abrupt dismissal staggered her. The power of the vow thrummed through her like a current. Kath felt the need to rush into battle and slay demons, but she was left standing before an empty dais, her sword in her hand. “Come,” Sir Tyrone touched her arm, “it’s oft like this after battle.”

  Such a strange comment, yet it rang of truth.

  “Come.”

  Sheathing her sword, Kath followed the two knights from the chamber. A pair of blue-robed monks waited beyond the golden doors, escorts to guide them back through the maze of corridors. The rush of power bled from Kath like a receding tide, leaving her exhausted, a thousand questions raging through her mind. Haunted by the Grand Master’s words, Kath walked in a daze, stunned by the revelations. So the bane of Castlegard was a harlequin, a thousand-year-old evil, an endless enemy, yet she’d always thought the Mordant was an inherited title, like a king or an emperor. Now she learned he was a nightmare, reborn again and again from the depths of hell. A single soul steeped in so much evil and she was tasked to kill it. An impossible task, an impossible tale, yet it rang with heart-binding truth. Shivering, Kath stared at the writing-filled walls, wondering what else the monks knew, what else they kept hidden. Surrounded by knowledge, she should have drawn comfort from the writings, but instead she felt lost. Something nagged at her soul, a premonition, a hint of dread. Unease rode her shoulders, making every shadow look sinister. Despite the remoteness of the mountain monastery, Kath gripped her sword hilt. Evil suddenly seemed very near.

  82

  The Mordant

  In the beginning there was only darkness. The darkness of an infinite black void, the darkness of a night without stars, the all-pervasive Darkness of his Lord. Summoned from the depths, the ancient darkness poured into a fresh mind, a fresh body. Like a smothering avalanche, the original soul was buried under centuries of evil.

  Closed eyelids became twin canvases for dreams…for visions…for memories. The Mordant remembered his last death, the chamber at the heart of the dark monolith where stones dripped like blood from the ceiling, the chamber where it all started, where he’d first pledged his soul to the Dark Lord so many centuries ago. Images of the past blended with visions of the future. He saw his armies in black and gold marching south, spreading chaos, fear, and death. Mortals trembled at the mere sight of his black battle banner. Across the centuries, he tasted victories…and learned from defeats. His mind was flooded with the rich details of many lives and many deaths. He remembered the flash of silver as the executioner’s axe descended. He remembered laughter and the face of the trembling guard as he peered through the eyes of his severed head. Images swamped his mind, images of other places…other times…other lives.

  He opened his eyes and the room was bathed in a baleful blood-red light. He did not need a mirror to know that if he closed his eyes, the darkness of the room would return. It was the Awakening. The Mordant was reborn.

  He stretched on the narrow bed, exploring his new, young body. What he found pleased him. Young and male, tall and strong…and virile. It had been more than fifty years since he’d last enjoyed the pleasures of sex. The sudden virility of this young body spiked through him, threatening to swamp his mind. It was always this way at the start. Succumbing to the long un-tasted pleasure, he let his hand tease his rod to attention. Shorter than in other lives, but what it lacked in length it made up for in rock hardness. He gloried in his sudden youth. With expert hands he let the waves of pleasure build. Arching his back, he spewed his seed in a triumphant arc. It was good to be young again. There was nothing better than an old mind coupled with a young body. He had so much to look forward to.

  Temporarily sated, his mind was free to examine his host. In a small corner of his being, a tortured soul screamed in agony. He played with the soul, a cat toying with a mouse, teasing thoughts from his victim’s mind. “So, your name is Bryce, an acolyte of the Kiralynn Order.” Laughter bubbled from his throat. Truly the Dark Lord had a twisted sense of humor. He’d been reborn in the hidden sanctuary of his bitterest enemies, wearing the face of one of their own. He could not stop laughing. A pity the boy was only an initiate and not a full-sworn monk, but his mind was excited by the possibilities. Perhaps he’d finally have the opportunity to destroy the enemy that relentlessly plagued him through all the centuries of his lives.

  Keen to learn more, he focused his will on the small soul trapped within his mind. His prey fell suddenly silent, like a mouse overshadowed by an eagle, but there was nowhere to hide. “I see you mortal, you cannot hide. I know your name was Bryce, but I shall call you ‘monk’. It amuses me to have one of my enemies trapped within my mind. I give you leave to speak.”

  *Get out of my mind, foul demon! Be gone! Leave me alone!*

  “Silly mortal, you cannot banish me. My soul carries the memories of more than a thousand years of life. Your pitifully short span of years is nothing compared to the weight of my pasts. Submit of your own free will or be crushed and subsumed in
to my greater mind. What is your answer?”

  *You ‘re a monster! An evil spawn of the Dark Lord! I will never join with you!*

  “You amuse me monk. You think you can keep your meager secrets from me, but your thoughts are mine to do with as I will. I can take them gently like a tender lover or I can make it a brutal rape. You will soon learn to please me. Now tell me what you know of the crystal dagger.”

  *A crystal dagger? I’m only a healer, only an initiate. I know little of weapons.*

  “Liar! Tell me what you know or I will wrest it from you.”

  He felt the monk’s mind scurry like a rat in a maze. *There’s something written on one of the walls. It speaks of a crystal dagger but I never paid it much mind. I study healing not weapons.*

  “You must know more than that. It is futile to refuse. This first time shall be rape, so that you understand me.” The Mordant battered the captured soul with the strength of his will, like a relentless weight crushing down. The monk twisted and shrieked, like a maid trying to escape, but the Mordant smashed his way in, violating the monk’s most secret thoughts. He took what he wanted, leaving the soul howling in torment. It was a good beginning.

  “So you don’t know.” The Mordant brooded on the discovery. Perhaps the higher magics were kept secret, known only to a select few. He cursed the fact he wasn’t reborn as a fully sworn master, yet he’d gained much from a mere initiate. He need only kill a guide to gain an amulet, the key to the Guardian Mist, and the enemy’s stronghold would be laid bare before his armies. He focused his will on the captured monk. “There is nothing you can keep from me. From your mind I know it would be death to pass through the doors of forbidden blue. Fresh in this new body, I am vulnerable, so that pleasure must wait for another time. With your knowledge of the mountains and the monastery, I will make my escape…but first I will read this wall that tells of the crystal dagger. Once I’ve reclaimed my power, my armies shall return. Then we shall see what lies beyond the blue doors and all the secrets of the monastery shall be mine.”