Silk And Steel: The Skeleton King Part 41

The marshal grabbed a pair of soldiers and pressed them into helping the king. Standing in the midst of chaos, he shouted orders for any who would listen. "Take whatever supplies you can and retreat to the third wall. Re-group at the third wall!"

As the last of the men cleared the ramparts, he followed them down the stairwell. His hearing returned in a rush, but it did not lessen the nightmare. Dark magic had triumphed over stalwart swords. Raven Pa.s.s was lost...and perhaps the Octagon as well.

50.

Blaine A blistering wind howled across the steppes. Blaine lowered his head and struggled to keep pace with the others. Hunched beneath sheepskin cloaks, they ran into the teeth of winter. Snow pelted his face, ice crystals encrusting his surcoat, his eyebrows, and his beard. Everything blurred to white. His breath frosted to mist, s.n.a.t.c.hed away by the wind. His boots pounded the frigid ground, the long gra.s.s beating against his thighs, running through a frozen h.e.l.l.

Tingold, the wolf-faced scout set a fierce pace. Blaine was determined to hold his position near the front, a matter of pride. Kath ran beside him, her two guards, Bear and Boar lumbering a pace behind. Their scouting party was eighty warriors strong. It seemed like a horde to Blaine. Kath had asked for twenty swords but other warriors kept swelling the ranks, insisting on their right come. Blaine suspected some were glory seekers, like Brevor, the loud-mouthed spearman with the fox tattoos, while others were spies of the council, sent to witness Kath's defeat by the gargoyles. He despised the doubters, but part of him wondered if she could do it. Tales of the gargoyle gates were legendary among the Octagon, a fearsome barrier protecting the far north. Somehow Kath was supposed to defeat the gargoyles, allowing an army of painted warriors to slip pa.s.sed unnoticed. In the cold light of day, her plan seemed like a tale spun for small children. Blaine shook his head and kept running.

The storm eased and he flicked a glance behind. Eighty men left a trail a child could follow. Trampled gra.s.s and a stampede of footprints marked a long trail back to the Ghost Hills. If the enemy found them there'd be no place to hide, fight or flee their only choice.

The painted warriors kept their brutal pace. They slept at night, huddled together under mounds of sheepskins, desperate for warmth, and ran by day, taking short breaks to sip honey mead and munch on cold dried horsemeat. The nights were cold and the days long, filled with the endless ache of running.

Tingold raised his hand, signaling a halt. Gasping for breath, Blaine crumpled to the ground, unused to so much running. Sitting cross-legged, he put his back to the wind and chewed a strip of dried horsemeat, tough and stringy. A pity their hosts ate horse instead of riding them, but Blaine doubted the painted people knew how. A flagon of mead came his way. He took a long pull, a welcome gush of warmth running down his throat, and pa.s.sed it on.

Beside him, the wolf faced scout flashed a grin. "I told ya we'd not see much snow."

In truth, the snow was less than half a finger deep, but the cold held a terrible bite.

As if the wolf scout read his mind, Tingold slapped his thigh and barked a laugh. "In the north, 'tis too cold to snow!"

A set of smiles flashed his way. The painted people took a perverse pride in the cold, as if it was a badge of honor, proof of their manliness. Blaine pulled his cloak close; they could keep their b.l.o.o.d.y cold.

He flicked a glance at Kath but she seemed withdrawn. Dark smudges shadowed her eyes as if she hadn't slept in days. Blaine left her to her thoughts, knowing she had more than enough to worry about, but he missed the companions.h.i.+p of the others. Zith and Danya had both stayed behind. The old man could never have made the run and Danya had much to do before the army could march. His thoughts lingered on the wolf-girl, dark hair and an impish smile. He'd once hoped...but she'd made her feelings clear. Scowling, Blaine shook his head. Nothing ever turned out the way he expected. At least he still had his blue sword, his strength and his pride.

All too soon, Tingold signaled an end to the break.

More running, Blaine struggled to find a rhythm, his boots pounding into the frozen ground. Knights were supposed to ride not run. For the thousandth time he regretted bringing his chainmail, but he figured he'd need it in a fight. The weight tugged at his shoulders, slowing his stride. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to keep pace. Cold air seared his lungs, harsh and unforgiving. The G.o.d cursed steppes stretched to forever, a sea of frozen gra.s.s, pale beneath a weak sun.

Blaine forged ahead, running shoulder to shoulder with Torven, an eagle-faced warrior. The eagle looked his way, flas.h.i.+ng a fierce grin. Somehow the blue tattoos seemed more striking in the cold, transforming the painted people into beasts rather than men. Plumes of mist streamed from their nostrils, adding to the illusion. Bundled beneath sheepskin cloaks they wore mismatched armor and scavenged weapons, mostly swords and a few spears. Nearly a third carried dented s.h.i.+elds embossed with golden pentacles, the gleanings from past battles. Despite their ragtag appearance, they looked fierce, but Blaine wondered how they'd fight. A grim laugh bubbled out of him, instead of fighting shoulder to shoulder with sworn knights, he was running across the frigid north with a pack of barbarians. They'd gained allies of a sort, but it remained to be seen if they could get pa.s.sed the G.o.d cursed gargoyle gates.

Twelve days of running before he spied his first glimpse of the wall, a long black slash spoiling the gra.s.slands. With each stride, the wall loomed larger. Over forty feet tall, topped with crenelated battlements, the wall cut through the steppes like a statement of power.

Tingold turned north, angling toward the wall. At midday, Blaine spied the gargoyle gates. The grim sight brought him to a standstill. He gaped in awe...till another runner b.u.mped into him. Sketching the hand sign against evil, Blaine struggled to keep pace.

The gate was not what he expected. A paved roadway breached the long black wall. Wide enough for three wagons, the breach might have seemed like an open invitation to the north...were it not for the gargoyles. Twelve gargoyles guarded the gate, ma.s.sive monsters frozen in stone. Each gargoyle was unique, beaks and claws, wings and fangs, a torment of stone so realistic they seemed poised to strike. Thrice the height of a tall man, the monsters stood perched atop pedestals, rearing over the roadway like a gauntlet of nightmares. Suppressing a shudder, Blaine clenched his fists. It was hard not to reach for his sword, especially since he knew the legend, but he would not be shamed in front of the others.

Tingold came to a halt, staying a good twenty paces from the gate.

Blaine stopped beside him, breathing plumes of frost. The others gathered round. No one said a word; they just stared at the gates. Tingold broke the silence, but he kept his voice to a whisper, as if speech might wake the gargoyles. "Keep your distance from the gates." He pinned Blaine with a warning stare. "One step on the roadway and the gargoyles will wake."

Annoyed, Blaine nodded, it wasn't the first time he'd heard the warning. His gaze roamed across the painted warriors, noting that more than a few had drawn swords, as if steel could defeat stone.

Tingold turned to Kath. "You asked for a gate. What will you have us do?"

But Kath did not say a word. Her gaze transfixed by the gargoyles, she walked towards the gate as if drawn by a spell.

Tingold leaned towards Blaine, his voice an urgent hiss. "What's she doing?"

Blaine could only shrug.

"If she steps on the roadway, the gargoyles will wake." The painted warriors stood poised to fight, but none moved to stop her.

Kath strode within a foot of the gate...and stopped. Still as a statue, she gazed up at the gargoyles.

Minutes stretched to an hour and still she did not move. The painted warriors sat on their haunches, staring at Kath. They shared a meal of dried horsemeat and mead. In hushed tones, they wagered on the outcome. A few favored Kath but most wagered on the gargoyles. Bear, one of Kath's bodyguards, gave a confident grunt, his arms folded across his broad chest. "You're all wrong. She seeks a vision from the G.o.ds and then she'll defeat the gargoyles."

Blaine smirked, more proof the painted people were little more than superst.i.tious barbarians...but the confidence of Bear's voice irked him.

They finished their meal and still Kath did not move. Torven, the eagle faced warrior, took charge. "We must give the War Leader the time she needs. Brevor, Tangor, Clemit and Vin, take the first watch. The rest of you get some sleep. We'll need to be well rested if the enemy comes."

Four guards loped away, taking up a square pattern around the troop, keeping watch over the steppes. Bear and Boar moved close to Kath, sitting at her back like a couple of faithful watchdogs. The others made a camp of sorts, laying bedrolls on the frozen ground. Flagons of mead were pa.s.sed but they went without a fire. Blaine sat cross-legged, chewing on a salty strip of dried horsemeat. A few of the men talked, while others diced or honed their weapons, but most crawled into their bedrolls, grown men huddled together for warmth. Blaine pulled his two cloaks close, the maroon beneath the sheepskin, and kept watch on Kath. A mere slip of a girl, she was dwarfed by the gargoyles. For the thousandth time he wondered why the monks had chosen her instead of a seasoned warrior. King's blood ran in her veins but she was still just a girl and her magic seemed a pitiful weapon against the mighty statues. Perhaps their journey north was nothing more than a fool's errand.

The sun began to set and still Kath did not move. Blaine crawled into his bedroll, seeking warmth. He must have slept, for when he woke; the dawn's red light streaked a cloud strewn sky.

Torven crouched next to Blaine, offering a flagon of mead. "She hasn't moved."

Blaine tilted the flagon, taking a long pull of fiery liquor, a blaze of warmth settling in his stomach.

"It is perilous to wait near a gate. A patrol could come at any time, or worse, the gore hounds."

Blaine shuddered. "So what do we do?"

"Talk to her. Perhaps you can persuade her to move from the gate and return when she's ready."

It seemed a reasonable suggestion. "I'll see what I can do." Returning the flagon, he crawled from his bedroll. s.h.i.+vering against the cold, he settled his blue sword across his shoulders and walked a few paces away to make his toilet. His p.i.s.s raised a cloud of steam into the morning air, more proof the north was a G.o.d forsaken land, not worth dying for. Finished, he turned and studied Kath. The girl hadn't moved, her two faithful guards sitting at her back.

He closed the distance, his stare roving from Kath to the gargoyles. As far as Blaine could tell, the statues hadn't moved either, but he did not trust them. The gargoyles set his teeth on edge. Cast in stone, the huge hulking brutes seemed to leer down at him, claws extended for the kill. Making the hand sign against evil, he sidled close to Kath, staying a good sword's length from the roadway. Blaine kept his voice to a hushed whisper, yet it sounded loud to his ears. "What do you see when you stare at them?"

Kath startled, as if woken from a dream. She turned and cast a weary glance toward him. "I see souls imprisoned in stone."

Blaine shuddered. "Another nightmare from the Mordant."

Kath nodded, her stare returning to the gargoyles. "Just so."

He stood at her back, not sure what to say. The silence lengthened, as if she'd forgotten him. He moved a step closer, peering over her shoulder. In one hand she held the crystal dagger, in the other, the amber pyramid. Her fingers flicked, rotating the small pyramid against the palm like a talisman or a prayer bead. Somehow the gesture worried him. "Do you know what to do?" His words sounded harsh to his ears but he couldn't take them back.

"Yes, but I'm afraid."

Her answer sent a s.h.i.+ver down his spine. "Afraid of the gargoyles?"

"Afraid I'll become them." She turned and stared up at him, and just for a moment, her eyes held a world of pleading.

He caught his breath, but before he could respond the look was gone, her face wiped clean, as calm as stone. Unsure what to say, he gestured back at the others. "Torven says it's dangerous to linger near a gate. A patrol might come. Or h.e.l.lhounds."

Kath nodded, her face solemn. "Yes, I've run out of time." She took a deep breath. "Will you help me?"

"How?"

She pointed to the nearest gargoyle, a fearsome beast with the fangs of a lion and the wings of a bat. "I need to get up there."

"Up there?"

"Yes, on top of the pedestal."

Blaine did not want to go anywhere near the gargoyles. "Won't it wake?"

"It might, but it's a chance I'll have to take."

He noticed the others had drawn close, crowding behind him, judging him with their barbarian eyes. Feeling their stares he knew he didn't have a choice. "My sword is yours."

She gave him a half smile. "I don't need your sword, just a leg up," but then her face turned grim. "Don't touch the stone, don't even brush against it."

He nodded, finding it suddenly hard to swallow.

Looking past him, Kath nodded to the others. "Get back from the gate. Keep well away from the gargoyles," her voice trailed to a whisper, "for I know not what they'll do."

Bear and Boar pushed forward, their weapons unsheathed. "Let us fight for you."

She gave them a soft smile. "Loyal and brave, you'll both fight by my side in the citadel but not here. Honor my wishes and stand with the others. Swords, no matter how stalwart, cannot prevail against stone." Kath hefted the crystal dagger, holding the milk-white blade aloft. "This is the only weapon that can damage such a foe...and by the will of the G.o.ds it's mine to wield." Sunlight danced along the blade. For half a heartbeat she seemed more than a mere girl.

The others backed away, their faces fierce with blue tattoos. Hands on weapons, they stood thirty feet from the gates, every stare locked on Kath.

Sighing, Kath sheathed the crystal dagger, and then turned her stare toward Blaine. Any trace of uncertainty was buried beneath a mask of stone. "This way." She led him around the back of the nearest gargoyle. "This one will do."

Even from the back the stone beast looked menacing.

"Give me a boost up but then get away. And take care, lest you touch the stone."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I must." She gave him a half smile. "End a nightmare or die trying," but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Tell Duncan I love him."

He stared at her, lost for words.

"It's time." She drew him toward the monster's pedestal, stopping a dagger's length from the stone.

The beast's malformed shadow loomed overhead.

Blaine's mouth went dry but he did not flinch. Lacing his hands together, he bent down as if to give her a boost onto a tall horse. Kath set her left boot in his hands and leaped up. He pushed, straining to give her extra lift.

She vaulted upward, her hands catching the lip of the pedestal.

Blaine edged away, expecting the beast to pounce, but the gargoyle remained frozen.

Kath swung up onto the pedestal, dwarfed by the stone beast.

Steel hissed from leather. Blaine unsheathed his blue sword, but the gargoyle remained lifeless.

Kath stood on the pedestal, staring up at the gargoyle. The monster reared over her, thrice the height of a tall man, a nightmare cast in stone. Kath drew the crystal dagger, her voice a whisper, "For Honor and the Octagon!" She touched the dagger's tip to the statue's flank. Crystal touched stone yet the gargoyle remained quiescent, nothing but a statue. Kath stepped forward and disappeared into the gargoyle.

"By the G.o.ds!" Blaine staggered backwards, his sword clutched in his fist. She'd disappeared into the stone! He hadn't known what to expect, but not that, never that! His heartbeat thundering, Blaine joined the others, his stare locked on the gargoyle.

At first he thought it was a trick of his eyes, but then he was sure. The statue moved! Muscled rippled beneath stone as the beast awoke. Wings unfurled and claws reached for the heavens. Jaws of a lion, claws of a dragon, wings of a bat, the great stone beast rose to its full height. Its huge jaws stretched wide and then snapped shut, as if it had swallowed something it did not like. The beast clawed at its own belly, stone raking against stone. It writhed upon its pillar, its claws making an ominous sound, but it did not roar.

And then it suddenly stilled...frozen once more.

Blaine held his breath.

The steppes went quiet, not even a breath of wind stirred.

The world seemed to wait.

The gargoyle shuddered. The great head reared back, jaws gaping wide.

Blaine thought he heard a sound, like the release of a long held sigh.

Without warning, the gargoyle exploded. Bits of stone blew in all directions. A piece of jaw thunked into the steppes. A clawed talon landed near Blaine's left boot. He staggered backwards, his hands raised to guard his face.

The rain of stone stopped.

The dust cleared.

Kath stood alone on the pedestal, the crystal dagger raised to the heavens.

"Svala!" All around him, the painted warriors knelt, a single word on their lips like a prayer. "Svala!"

They knelt, but Blaine would not bend the knee. Instead, he kept watch, his blue sword gripped in his fist.

Eleven more gargoyles remained. Blaine expected the others to fight, but instead they knelt. They knelt, their clawed hands extended in supplication.

Kath leaped from the empty pedestal and strode to the next gargoyle. The great beast wrapped its hand around her waist and lifted her to its chest, clasping her close as a lover. Kath melted into the statue. This time the beast did not fight. Throwing its head back, it uttered a long held sigh...and then shattered into a thousand pieces.

Kath stood alone atop the pedestal.

All around him, the painted warriors cavorted and laughed, shouting the word "Svala!" like a prayer or a triumph.

Blaine watched as Kath moved from one gargoyle to the next. Each time the gargoyle gently lifted her to its breast. When she entered the last beast Blaine dared the roadway, walking to the beast's pedestal. The last gargoyle shattered into a rain of stone, but somehow the pieces missed him.

Covered in rock dust, Kath stood on the pedestal, pale as a ghost, dark shadows beneath her eyes.

"You did it." He reached up to help her down. She felt light in his arms, as fragile as gla.s.s.