Part 16 (2/2)
The king's eyes widened, his hand sketching the sign against evil.
”Lothar found this in the fire grate, lost in the confusion. But it might prove a boon.” Holding the crystal aloft, he pressed the king with a flurry of words. ”Claim the crystal as your own. Have it worked into the pommel of your sword. Let every man renew their oath by laying hands on the hilt of the king's sword. Let the men see for themselves that there are no demons among us.”
”Magic worked into my sword?” Shaking his head, the king paced the chamber like a cornered bear. ”I like it not.”
”Dire times call for dire methods.”
The king stilled, his face a snarl. ”I'll think on it.”
”As you wish.” The marshal moved to the fireplace, setting the crystal upon the mantle, a constant reminder. ”And the men?”
The king sighed. ”The men need their king.” He glanced down at himself, like a man waking from a long slumber. ”But not like this. Where's my squire?”
”And Ulrich?” The marshal pressed the question, needing to be sure. ”Shall I send for the prince, recalling him from Cragnoth Keep?”
”Only one son left,” a tic worried the king's left eye like a threat. He shuddered as if throwing off a shroud. ”Ulrich needs to earn his pride, to lead his own command to victory. I still believe the enemy will strike at the Crag. The Mordant dearly loves deceit.” His face hardened, etched with grief, but the tic remained. ”A lesson I've learned too well.” His voice firmed with the ring of command. ”Let Ulrich stay at Cragnoth and earn the right to wear the crown.”
”As you command. Shall I summon your squire?”
”Yes.” The king flicked a glance to the ruined table. ”And you best find me a new table. Seems you've slayed this one.”
The marshal could have wept with joy. His king was back. Perhaps they had a chance against the Dark.
20.
Blaine Blaine made the rounds, checking his stricken companions, praying one would wake. Poison, an enemy he did not know how to fight. He railed against the G.o.ds, but they offered no help. The sun's last rays succ.u.mbed, abandoning him to darkness.
Cold and desolate, he bundled Kath in blankets and dribbled water on her lips, praying for a change but he saw none. His gaze was drawn to the crystal dagger. It seemed wrong to let it lie in the gra.s.s, unprotected. Hesitating, he whispered a promise, ”Only till you wake.” He switched daggers, sheathing the crystal blade at his belt. Holding his breath, he listened to the night, half expecting the G.o.ds to protest...but there was no sound except the wind.
Chiding himself for silly superst.i.tions, he unsheathed his blue steel sword and stood with his feet braced wide in a stubborn stance. He'd stand guard, keeping vigil against the predators of the night. Turning slowly, he surveyed the steppes, staring out into the darkness, hoping for friends, expecting foes.
A howl came from the south, a chorus of wolves...or h.e.l.lhounds. s.h.i.+vering, he tightened his grip on his sword, telling himself it was just wolves feasting on the dead.
Staring south, he tried to pierce the darkness, wis.h.i.+ng Bryx would wake, wis.h.i.+ng the archer would return. He kept a lonely vigil, without even the stars for company. Time seemed to crawl, a dull sameness, tempting him to sleep.
The moon traversed a cloud choked sky, a pale smudge of light. Blaine jerked awake, catching himself before he fell. Swearing, he gripped his sword, and pivoted, staring into the night, angry for drowsing. Weariness a.s.sailed him, yet he refused to succ.u.mb.
The moon disappeared, swallowed by the west, but darkness still gripped the sky. The wolves had fallen silent. Nothing moved save the tall gra.s.s rippling in the wind. The steppes seemed peaceful enough, slumbering through the night. Blaine stretched his aching muscles, waiting for the dawn.
”We see you, knight.” Words whispered from the north.
Snapping his sword up, Blaine pivoted toward the voice, a chill s.h.i.+vering down his back. Gra.s.ses rustled around him, driven by the wind...but he saw no one.
”Who do you serve?”
He whipped around, keeping his sword raised, the back of his neck p.r.i.c.kling in warning.
A different voice from the left, ”Who do you serve?”
A s.h.i.+ver raced down Blaine's back. He'd heard that question before...in the Guardian Mist.
”Answer the question.”
But this was a man's voice, a real voice, and it came from a different direction. Surrounded and outnumbered...but surely the Mordant's men would attack rather than talk. ”I serve the Light.” He kept his sword raised, pivoting, wary of an ambush.
”Then why are you here?”
The question made no sense, but he was desperate for help. ”My companions need a healer.”
”Everything has its price.”
Anger coursed through him, he tired of their games. ”Time is my enemy. Three of my companions are stricken with poison from a h.e.l.lhound's claws. Do you have a cure?”
Whispers came from every direction, yet he saw no one. Icy fingers s.h.i.+vered down his back. Surrounded, with so many against him, he had no hope of fighting free. Blaine struggled to keep his voice calm. ”Will you help?”
”Will you pay the price?”
Another voice hissed, ”Anton, they fought our enemy!”
”I command here!”
A s.h.i.+ver of hope raced through Blaine.
”Will you pay the price?”
He had no idea what they wanted or why...but he had to save Kath and the others. ”What do you want?”
”We value steel. Your blue sword for safe conduct to our healers.”
Blaine staggered backwards. They asked for everything. A knight's weapon held his very soul. He was nothing without his blue steel sword...but then he remembered the crystal dagger.
”We trade lives for steel. Will you pay the price?”
”Can you cure them?”
”If the poison is not too far gone. You risk their lives by waiting.”
He'd sworn an oath to Kath; he owed her his allegiance...even if it meant his blue steel sword. Honor was a hard taskmaster. He reversed the blade and extended the hilt. ”Then take my sword and save them...or there'll be h.e.l.l to pay.”
Figures melted out of the gra.s.s, more than thirty. Hands on swords, they surrounded him. One drew close, moving with a lithe grace, claiming the offered sword. ”The price is paid, the bargain accepted.”
Blaine clenched his fists, naked without his blue blade. ”Then help them.” He pointed at Kath, his voice a low growl. ”Help her first.”
The clouds chose that moment to part, a flash of moonlight revealing his captors. Blaine gasped, retreating a step. Blue tattoos transformed their faces. Intricate designs of animals melded with human features, an eerie blending that created a wild, feral look. Fox, wolf, bear and eagle, they seemed otherworldly. Savage and fierce and illusive as legends, he stood surrounded by a pack of Painted Warriors.
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