Part 5 (2/2)
”Your men, your spare arms, and your supplies.” The king swept his hand across the map, his fist coming to rest on Raven Pa.s.s. ”We'll gather our strength at the pa.s.s, leaving skeletal forces everywhere else except Cragnoth Keep.”
Sir Lothar frowned. ”A dangerous gamble.”
”A calculated risk.” Confidence filled the king's words, but the marshal saw the worry shadowing his eyes. ”We'll make our stand at Raven Pa.s.s.”
Ulrich grinned. ”As captain of the pa.s.s, I pledge to lead that stand to victory.”
The marshal caught his breath, the prince presumed too much.
The king turned toward his oldest son. ”Cragnoth Keep needs a captain. You'll take command of the Crag while I lead our forces at Raven Pa.s.s.”
”But Raven Pa.s.s is mine to command!” Ulrich bristled, his fists clenched. ”And besides, the Crag is insignificant.”
”The Crag was good enough for your brother.” The king's eyes darkened with anger but Ulrich was blind to the warning.
”You steal my chance at glory...and the crown.”
The other captains pushed back from the table, gaining a safe distance.
The king stood, a thunderstorm on his face. ”Every son of mine must serve before he's given the honor to lead.” He loomed over his firstborn, his voice br.i.m.m.i.n.g with anger. ”Have you forgotten how to serve?”
Ulrich weathered the king's stare, but his voice was sullen. ”No, Sire.”
”Remember your oath. You swore to serve the maroon.”
A spark of rebellion kindled in Ulrich's eyes. ”I swore to fight.”
”And so you shall. You'll have your fill of it.” The king's voice struck like a slap. ”Tell him, Griffin.”
”The first battle will be fought at Cragnoth, when the Mordant comes to harvest his deceit.”
Mollified, Ulrich nodded. ”Then honor of first blood is mine.”
The king turned his back on his firstborn, stepping toward the blazing fireplace. ”You'll take command of the Crag and crush the attack. Then bring the bulk of your men to Raven Pa.s.s to reinforce the wall. If the Mordant turns his full might against us, every sword will be needed.”
”And the crown?”
The king stiffened, his broad shoulders cloaked in maroon. For half a heartbeat, the marshal thought he'd turn and strike his son, but the king chose to answer, a touch of weariness in his voice. ”The crown is earned by deeds not bl.u.s.ter. Leaders.h.i.+p, strategy, honor and courage, these are the measures of a king of Castlegard.”
A hushed stillness settled over the great room. Pine logs snapped and crackled, releasing a pungent scent. The king kept his back to them all, facing the fireplace, casting a long shadow across the room. ”More questions?”
A chorus of ”no's” rippled around the table.
”You have your orders. There's no time to waste. See that it's done.”
The captains stared at the king and then nodded to the marshal. Wood sc.r.a.ped against stone as they pushed back from the table and took their leave. Ulrich hesitated, staring at the king's back, but he turned without saying a word. Sir Lothar lingered the longest. Nodding to the marshal, he followed the others.
The marshal remained alone with his king, the only sound the crackling of the hearth fire. ”What troubles you, my lord?”
”I felt this coming, Osbourne, felt it in my very bones, yet the warning did not come in time to save Lionel.”
The king turned, a haunted look in his eyes.
”And now you feel it again?”
The king nodded, ”Something worse comes. A great doom from the north.”
”And the hammer blow will fall on Raven Pa.s.s?”
”Even Griffin can see it. He sees it but he cannot sense it.” The king's voice sounded weary. ”My sons tussle for a crown when so much more is at stake...proving none are worthy.” The king stared at his marshal, a strange mixture of grief and iron conviction writ upon his face. ”We must antic.i.p.ate the attack, Osbourne, throwing the full weight of the maroon behind a single bulwark. A desperate gamble...the G.o.ds help us if I'm wrong.”
”You're never wrong, sire, not when it comes to war.” The marshal drew a slow breath. ”Then we fight at Raven Pa.s.s. And the fate of the southern kingdoms will turn on a single battle.”
The king stared into the fire. ”We gird for war, Osbourne, and we dare not lose.”
6.
Katherine Kath added kindling to the campfire, needing to be sure the flames would not die. The others slept, soft snores coming from their bedrolls. Duncan had already slipped away, but she'd promised him a half turn of the hourgla.s.s before she followed. She knew what to expect...or at least part of it. In the Deep Green she'd peppered Duncan with questions about the customs of his people. Weddings were simple affairs, two people pledging their lives before an old growth tree...and then they slipped away into the forest, both coming to the wedding bower...naked. Kath's heart raced just thinking of the last part. A wild excitement engulfed her but beneath it ran a current of fear. She knew she was being skittish but she could not help it.
Moonlight broke through the clouds, silvering the glade. Kath smiled, taking it as a blessing from the G.o.ds. Deciding she'd waited long enough, she took a deep breath and cast one last glance at her sleeping companions. Only the wolf remained awake. Bryx grinned at her, making a soft chuffing sound, as if he knew her intent. She bowed toward him, trusting the wolf to stand guard. Shrugging her axes from shoulders, she decided to keep her sword. Kath blushed at the thought, knowing a bride should never bring a weapon to her wedding, but the sword was too much a part of her. Turning her back on the campfire, she stepped toward the forest.
Bright moonlight lit her way across the glade. Stepping past a curtain of moss, she entered the forest. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom. A tangle of branches shrouded the moon, leaving barely enough light to see by. Kath shuffled forward, avoiding thick-trunked trees and low hanging s.h.i.+elds, and then she saw it. A single candle glowed in the forest. Duncan! He could see in the gloom but he'd brought a candle just for her, a beacon in the darkness. The simple gesture melted her heart. She followed the candlelight and found him waiting by a gnarled oak tree.
”Beloved,” he held his hand toward her.
He'd never called her that before. The single word s.h.i.+mmered in her soul. Kath stepped into the candlelight and took his hand. At first touch, a jolt raced through her. She knew he felt it too, a promise of the pleasure to come. Clasping his hand tight, she stared into his mismatched eyes.
Duncan smiled. ”I found the oldest grandfather tree in the forest. My people believe the older the tree, the deeper the roots, the more binding the vows.” He voice was laden with meaning. ”The roots of this tree delve deep.”
Kath tore her gaze from Duncan to look at the tree. An immense live-oak, the trunk was wide enough to hide a horse, the branches thick and gnarled, and amongst the branches hung half a hundred s.h.i.+elds. Tears crowded Kath's eyes, as if the heroes of the Octagon had come to witness her vows. ”It's perfect.”
Duncan nodded. ”As if the G.o.ds arranged it, your people and mine.”
She gave him a solemn smile. ”What must I do?”
”We keep one hand clasped,” his grip tightened on her left hand, ”and place the other on the tree.”
Kath mirrored Duncan, the oak's bark rough beneath her right hand.
”Now I sing the tree awake.” He closed his eyes, and began to hum a deep wordless tune that s.h.i.+vered with ancient meaning. Masculine and strong, the melody wove around Kath like an embrace. She strained to listen, seeking to understand, but the meaning beneath the melody remained out of reach, a primal language of leaf and bark. The humming came to a sudden stop and Duncan's eyes snapped open, holding her with a burning gaze. ”And now we say the words that bind us.”
Kath stared at him, feeling as if she stood on the threshold of a dream.
Duncan's voice was clear and certain. ”By Leaf and Bark, by Tree and Root, I, Duncan Treloch, pledge my life, my love, and my body to you, Kath of Castlegard, forever wed in the sight of the trees.”
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