Silk And Steel: The Skeleton King Part 6

Kath took a deep breath, knowing it was her turn. "By Leaf and Bark, by Sword and s.h.i.+eld, I, Kath of Castlegard, pledge my life, my love, and my body to you, Duncan Treloch of the Deep Green...forever wed in the sight of the trees."

In the back of her mind, Kath heard a chime, as if the G.o.ds sealed their vows.

Duncan stepped toward her. "It is done." His arms captured her, pulling her close. His mouth sought hers, a tender kiss that deepened to more. She melted against him, feeling the pounding of his heart. But then he pulled away, leaving her confused. His voice was rough with wanting, "Now we seal our words with our bodies. I'll light a second candle to guide you. Come to me in the depths of the forest." He gave her a hungry glance and then slipped into the velvety darkness.

Kath stood alone in the candlelight. Now came the moment she both longed for...and dreaded, but their vows would not be complete until their bodies were joined. She fumbled with the ties of her clothing. Jerkin, s.h.i.+rt, pants and small clothes, it all came off, including her gargoyle. Bundling everything into her cloak, she tied it tight. Lastly, she unbound her hair, the tangled tresses falling just below her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Naked and exposed, she s.h.i.+vered against the night chill. Her face flushed, but she refused to hide. Holding her sword belt and her bundled cloak in one hand, she lifted the candle and stepped barefoot into the forest.

A second candle glimmered nearby.

Her skin p.r.i.c.kled in the cold. Taking a deep breath, Kath went to her marriage bed. Stepping carefully pa.s.sed gnarled roots and rusted swords, she walked with her head held high, her hands away from her body, determined to show Duncan there was no doubt.

He stood in the light of the second candle. Her gaze drank him in. Broad shoulders and a chiseled chest, a line of dark hair traced a path to his tapered waist and down to his loins. Her gaze followed the path, needing to see all of him. His manhood stood rampant and proud like a battering ram. Kath quailed at the sight.

His voice was soft and soothing, "There's nothing to fear. The first time is always the hardest for a woman, but I promise you the pain will be slight, outweighed by the pleasure."

Kath quivered, unable to answer.

He took the candle from her hand and set it by the other. And then he took the sword and the bundle. Divested of both, she felt even more naked. And then he was standing before her, so close but not touching. "Kath, my lioness, my wife." He cupped her face, his fingers stroking her cheeks, caressing her lips, as if memorizing her features, and then his hands moved down, drawing her blonde tresses away from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Exposed to the cold, her nipples grew tight and tender as buds. He warmed them with his hands, an agony and an ecstasy. His lips found hers. He lifted her against him and then laid her on the bower of his cloak, a rustle of leaves beneath. She stiffened for a moment, a sudden stab of fear, but then his lips and hands roused her. They kissed forever, tasting and touching. Every caress ignited pleasure within her, like nothing she'd every felt before...but then his hand slipped between her legs. Her breath caught, a wild mix of fear and hunger. He opened her with a single finger. Shallow at first but then deeper, she gasped at the secret touch. Wet and warm, her back arched with need. His touch became insistent. Heat flashed through her. And then he rolled on top. His weight pinned her to the ground, his breath harsh against her face. "Beloved!" She felt him poised at the gate, rampant and hard. The first thrust hurt...but then the pleasure came in waves. She moaned against his shoulder, holding him tight, riding the ecstasy.

Later, much later, she lay nestled against him. Sore but sated, Kath could not believe it was done. Her fingers teased the hair on his chest. "Duncan...my husband!"

"I am that." He captured her hand and kissed it.

"You chose the perfect tree."

"Deep roots and many s.h.i.+elds, the perfect melding of our two peoples."

"So now I too belong to the Deep Green?"

"As much as I do."

She heard the catch in his voice and regretted her question.

"The deep roots will carry and hold our vows. The Treespeaker will know of our marriage."

She hadn't thought of that, but she liked that the Treespeaker would know. "I'm glad." Warm beneath his shared cloak, Kath stared up at the branches, a lattice silvered by moonlight. "I don't want this night to end."

"Nor I."

"I never thought it would be like that."

"And how was it?"

"So...consuming."

He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. "It's only the first taste."

Her imagination failed her...but her interest was piqued. "How else does it taste?"

Duncan rolled to his side, staring down at her. "Wild like summer lightning," he kissed her, "tender as a rain shower," another kiss, "soft and slow as a falling leaf," he nibbled her lip, "hard and pounding like horse's hooves," he pressed his manhood against her, "quick and sharp as a horn thrust," his hand went lower, "reckless as a ram in rut...as many different flavors as there are leaves in the forest."

Kath could not imagine it, but she grew warm with each kiss, each touch. "I want to taste them all."

He gave a throaty laugh, "My lioness!"

"But is it always so sticky?"

"My seed, your blood, our marriage bed." Duncan rolled on top and took her again. This time there was only pleasure.

Duncan woke her with a kiss. "Kath, it's time."

She clung to the sweet dream, the memory of his touch, his taste.

"Kath!" his voice prodded her with urgency, "if you want to keep our marriage secret, we must go."

She startled awake. "So soon?" Clothed in black leathers, he knelt beside her. "But you're already dressed?" Her voice was laden with disappointment.

He grinned. "You would not wake. I gave you as much time as I could."

She looked pa.s.sed his shoulder, through the tree limbs, ambushed by the brightening sky. Her breath caught. "We need to get back."

He leaned over her, capturing her gaze. "I would tell them if you would."

Tempted and touched, Kath considered it, but then she shook her head. "No, this night was just for us." Somehow she felt if they kept their marriage secret, kept it just for themselves, then no one, not even the G.o.ds, could take it way. She caressed his face, enjoying the rugged stubble beneath her fingertips. "A promise of love before we engage the Dark."

He kissed her, deep and ardent...and then he pulled away. "As you wish." He stood over her, gazing down. "I brought a water skin. If the others wake before you return, I'll say you've gone to wash."

"Thank you...for everything."

"My wife." He gave her a loving look and then turned and strode through the forest, a shadow in black leathers.

Naked, Kath stayed within the warmth of his cloak, clinging to memories of the night. But the dawn was insistent. Sighing, she reached for the water skin, making a quick ablution. Kath soon discovered she was more than sore. Blus.h.i.+ng, she wiped away the blood, no longer a maid. She dressed with care, settling her gargoyle around her neck and the amber pyramid in her deepest pocket. Buckling her sword belt, she shook out Duncan's cloak, claiming a single autumn leaf from their marriage bower, a keepsake of the night. Tucking the dried leaf beneath her jerkin, she pocketed the two melted candle stubs and retraced her steps, eventually finding their wedding tree. Dawn's light filtered through the branches, prodding her to hurry yet she paused before the tree. Laying a hand on the old oak, she whispered, "Thank you." Bowing to the tree and its burden of s.h.i.+elds, Kath hugged Duncan's cloak close and made her way back to the glade.

7.

Katherine Dawn lit the sky as the companions rode out of the foothills and into the steppes. Kath regretted leaving the forest, but duty drew them northward. She swiveled in the saddle for a last look, holding the memories of her wedding night close to her heart.

Duncan rode beside her, his voice pitched for her alone. "The trees will remember...and so will I."

She felt a blush heat her face. "Last night was...perfect."

Hoofbeats came from behind as Zith and the others drew close. Unwilling to share the morning, Kath urged her stallion to a trot. Golden gra.s.ses rippled in the wind, stretching to every horizon. Unmarred by roads or trails, the north seemed beautiful at first, an endless sea of sun-kissed gra.s.slands, but then the dull sameness began to wear on Kath, a sixth sense adding to her unease. The openness of the steppes made her nervous, too flat, too exposed, too vulnerable for a party of five. Feeling as if she rode into a trap, Kath gripped her sword hilt, pinp.r.i.c.ks of unease dancing down her spine. The wolf seemed to sense it too, disappearing into the tall gra.s.s for hours at a time and then returning to Danya's side.

They rode without talking, the threat of the steppes dampening even Blaine's enthusiasm.

A pillar of dark wings loomed ahead, an exclamation mark punctuating the golden gra.s.slands. Ravens wheeled in tight circles, always the first to arrive and the last to leave, the handmaidens of death. Kath steered her stallion toward the dark pillar. At least the ravens served as good guides, marking the trail of dead horses.

A rotting stench heralded another carca.s.s. A rush of black wings scattered at their approach, raising a cacophony of harsh caws. Danya hung back but Kath needed to see. Mauled by predators, the dead horse was little more than skin and bones and saddle. Duncan dismounted, disturbing a legion of flies. "Maroon trappings emblazoned with the Octagon, the same as the others."

Kath scowled, a grim reminder of the Mordant's treachery.

"There's nothing here. The Mordant leaves no clues." Duncan swung into the saddle, his longbow in his hand.

Kath nodded, urging her sorrel stallion to a canter, eager to be away. The others followed. Bunched close, they pressed on into the north, searching for the next plume of ravens.

For six days they rode north, following a trail of dead horses. Camping at night, they slept fitful without a fire. Rising at first light, they spent long days in the saddle, chewing dried venison for meals. They made good progress, but for every league north, Kath's unease grew.

The wolf loped alongside Kath's stallion, looking up as if he heard her thoughts. Bryx chuffed and then darted away, melting into the tall gra.s.s like a dark ghost. Kath watched him disappear, wondering what he'd find.

Duncan's gelding pulled even with hers. "Trust the wolf."

Kath shrugged, but the tightness of her shoulders would not go away.

"The wolf has a better sense of smell than any of us."

"Even you?"

"Perhaps." He flashed a grin but his voice was serious. "If there's any danger, the wolf will spot it first."

Kath nodded, knowing he was right, but she kept searching the horizon, expecting a threat that seemed just beyond sight. The sun climbed to the noon zenith, a pale disc in a winter-gray sky, providing little warmth against the chill wind. By unspoken agreement they kept riding, wrapped in wool cloaks, their appet.i.tes ruined by another dead horse.

Kath rode next to Duncan. "Do you suppose the trail leads straight to the Dark Citadel?"

"This trail leads to trouble."

His words echoed her feelings.

"The Mordant will find a patrol of soldiers long before he reaches the Dark Citadel." His stare met hers, his face hard. "That's when trouble will find us."

She tightened her grip on her sword hilt.

Duncan steadied his horse. "Back in the monastery, the monks had maps of the far north. Brittle and faded with age, the maps all showed the same thing. A great wall divides the steppes, marking the southern boundary of the Mordant's domain. Ten gates, s.p.a.ced leagues apart, provide the only breach in the long wall." He gave her a piercing stare. "The maps all carried the same warning. The gates are guarded by a foul magic."

Kath sketched the hand sign against evil, recalling nightmares from her childhood. Weaned on tales of valor, she'd heard wild stories about demon-guarded gates in the far north, but she always a.s.sumed the knights had been too far into their cups, the ale twisting the truth to a nightmare. But that was before she believed in magic. She reached for her gargoyle, needing to be sure the small figurine was safe. "Walls we can deal with, but we might want to avoid the gates."

He nodded. "I'm betting the trail of dead horses leads to a gate."

"Then we'll need to veer away at the first sign of the wall."

"Just so."

They rode in silence, carving a path through the deep gra.s.s. Kath scanned the horizon, searching for a first glimpse of the wall, but the steppes remained unbroken, a never ending sea of gra.s.s.

A lone wolf howled in the north.

The sound spiked through Kath. She threw a warning glance at Duncan, her unease mirrored on his face.

A woman's scream split the sky.

Kath pulled the stallion to a halt, her sword flying to her hand.

Danya clutched her horse's mane, her face pale, her eyes glazed. "From the north!" She shuddered, shaking her head. "Something evil comes!" She writhed in the saddle, her stare wild and unfocused. "Abominations! They claw at my mind!"

Blaine unsheathed his blue steel sword, urging his horse next to Danya. "I'll protect you!"

Zith struggled to control his horse, his mare turning skittish.

Kath and Duncan stood in their stirrups, staring north, searching for the threat, but the horizon seemed empty, nothing but an unbroken field of gra.s.s.

"There!" Duncan pointed. "See the ripples in the gra.s.s, like arrows racing toward us!"

Kath saw them, six long furrows speeding toward them, one leading the others. "What is it?"

A howl ripped from the north, a twisted wail, like hounds loosed from the bowels of h.e.l.l. The sound clawed at Kath's soul, a s.h.i.+ver of fear.

Danya screamed, "They're hunting us!"

Duncan nocked an arrow, steadying his horse with his knees. "Get the others away!" He drew the great bow to a kiss.

Kath yelled a warning. "One of those might be Bryx!"

The bowstring thrummed. "I know." Duncan reached for a second arrow. "Ride!"

Kath spurred her stallion to a gallop, herding the others toward the southeast. Her sword in her hand, she swiveled in the saddle, looking for Duncan, looking for the threat.

The longbow tw.a.n.ged, black-fletched arrows arching into the sky.

A snarl of pain erupted from the north, a tortured cry that seemed half-human.

Her horse leaped forward, finding extra speed, running in a blind panic.

A deep-throated baying followed, the hounds of h.e.l.l loosed to the hunt.

Hoof beats came from behind. Duncan rode low in the saddle, racing to catch up.

Kath urged her sorrel stallion for more speed. Racing behind her companions, she drove them forward, a p.r.i.c.kle of fear lancing her back.

Another howl, closer than before, the hounds narrowed the gap.