Part 38 (2/2)

Truth rode the king's words, truth and a hint of doom. The marshal put steel in his voice. ”Arrows and spears will never win the wall.”

The king gave him a piercing stare. ”The Mordant does not ride to war with numbers alone.” The king gazed down upon the steppes. ”We have not yet seen their worst.”

A cold wind gusted out of the north like a evil portent, tugging on their maroon cloaks.

”Come,” the king turned away from the rampart, ”I've seen enough for one day.”

He followed his king to the stairs. ”And what do you expect on the morrow.”

”I cannot say.” The king flashed him a grim look. ”But if the G.o.ds owe you any favors, pray for snow. Winter's likely to be our only ally.”

46.

Katherine They did not believe her. It was written upon their faces. Kath balled her hands into fists, wondering what it would take to win their trust. Thirty-six council leaders sat cross-legged on the floor of the small oval cavern, glow crystals casting shadows against the rough rock walls. Tattooed faces stared back at her. Eagle, bear, boar, fox, owl, mountain lion, a pantheon of predators listened to her plan for war. The Ancestor sat on the far side of the cavern, a ma.s.s of wrinkles peering from a mound of sheepskins. The Old One's face proved hard to read but it was the others Kath needed to convince. Her stare circled the chamber, willing the council to believe. ”It's a rare chance to strike a dire blow at the Mordant. But the opportunity is fleeting. Are you with me?”

Her words collided with dead silence.

The quiet proved unsettling. Half the council stared at her with faces grim as stone, while the other half sneered in open disbelief.

Hands on hips, she met their stares, a brazen show of confidence. She wore the War Helm, a not-so-subtle reminder of her status, but even that did not seem to help.

An eagle faced warrior broke the silence. ”You call that a plan?” He snorted, his face full of loathing. ”Sounds more like the ravings of a drunken bard.”

A storm of protests followed. ”You'll get us all killed.”

”It will never work.”

”This is what comes from letting a woman wear the War Helm.”

”Never trust a barefaced stranger.”

Kath shouted over their insults, desperate to make them believe. ”Don't you see? You dare not fight a conventional war. You're out-numbered, and out-trained, and under armed. In a straight attack, you'll lose every time.” Hostile faces glared at her, insulted by the truth, yet it needed to be said. Taking a deep breath, Kath plunged on. ”Deception, guile, and daring, these are your best weapons! This plan gives you, gives us, the best chance to strike at the Mordant.”

A fox faced man leaned forward, a sneer riding his face. ”Perhaps you seek your missing archer. Risking us all in a bid to get him back?”

Duncan. For half a heartbeat, Kath swayed on her feet. Where was he? Did he still live? Her nightmares were getting worse. Desperate to see him again, she longed to prove he still lived, but this was about more than one man. She took a steadying breath, her voice as hard as stone. ”We fight to defeat the Mordant, to strike a blow at the Dark.”

The fox leader scowled. ”So you say, but words are cheap.”

The Old One intervened. ”A Taishan of the painted people foresaw her coming. She bears the crystal dagger and sees the world differently. Her words are worth considering.”

A few of the leaders nodded, the Old One's words held sway.

Kath seized the advantage, pressing her argument. ”Your scouts report a great war host marched south. The Mordant empties the north in a bid to conquer Erdhe. This is our chance to strike at the citadel, to cripple the Dark. The odds will never be better.”

”But the steppes are cruel in winter.”

Kath nodded. ”The Mordant chooses the time for battle. Now is the time to strike no matter the weather.”

Royce, the lion-faced leader with a mane of auburn hair, nodded encouragement. ”Tell us more.”

She gave him a grateful smile. ”Timing is critical. We attack the citadel at the dark of the moon. Danya's deception will draw their forces to the south gate, while we attack the north gate. We strike hard and fast under the cloak of confusion.”

The fox faced leader barked a rude laugh. ”You'll never take the gates. And when morning comes, the truth of your deception will be revealed, fading away with the dawn light.” His stare circled the chamber. ”We'll all die, paying for her folly.”

Kath stood her ground, drilling him with her stare. ”It's not a folly. I'll open the gates myself.”

”You!” His voice roared with ridicule. ”By yourself? Now that makes all the difference. This slip of a girl will open the gates of the citadel? Might as well claim she can open the gates of h.e.l.l!”

More than a few smirked in agreement.

So they didn't believe her. Words were never enough. They needed proof, they needed a miracle. ”Watch and I'll prove it.” Reaching beneath her leather jerkin, she gripped her gargoyle. Nodding to the Ancestor, she strode to the wall and put her back to the rough rock. For half a heartbeat, she hesitated. Walls were easy but a mountain of stone was something else, something to fear. ”Watch and believe.” Taking a deep breath, she called the magic, and stepped back into the rock wall.

Stone embraced her. Strong and permanent, the mountain called to her. Whispering promises of forever, the stone invited her to become one with the ancient rock, locked in an eternal embrace. Kath resisted the call, thinking of sunlight and green leaves and Duncan. Duncan! Her concentration faltered. Gripping her gargoyle, she stilled her mind and stepped forward, praying she hadn't lost her bearings.

Sound and light returned in a rush. Kath stepped back into the cavern.

A chorus of gasps echoed the chamber.

A few made the hand sign against evil.

She gave the council a small smile. ”Stone walls will not stop me.”

Nods of agreement met her words. Kath did a quick count. She'd gained half their number. But half was not enough. Kath met the stares of the doubters and filled her voice with confidence. ”The plan is bold and daring, and decidedly different, I'll grant you that, but it will work.” She gripped the hilt of the crystal dagger. ”My friends and I make better allies than you know.”

The Old One chuckled, dark eyes twinkling in a map of wrinkles. Few besides Kath seemed to notice.

Brant, the leader of the boars, shook his head, his face stubborn. ”But even if we gain the citadel, we're still out numbered. We'll never hold it.”

She'd thought of that. ”The citadel teems with slaves and servants. Given a chance, won't they rise against their captors?”

The boar leader looked troubled. ”They might, and then again they might not. Slavery is bred into their bones. Few ever escape to gain the tattoos of free people.”

Royce intervened. ”They might rise, if they knew we were coming.”

The fox faced man barked a laugh. ”What? Now we're sending heralds. So much for surprise.”

Kath paced the chamber, her mind chewing the problem. Frustrated, she pushed her hands deep into her pockets, and found the answer lurking at the bottom. ”There might be a way.” She held the small pebble aloft, the sling stone given to her by Bear. ”We could send them a message carried by ravens.” She tossed the stone to the fox faced man.

He glared at the markings carved on the pebble. ”Ouch! That's your message?”

A few council leaders chuckled, while others looked annoyed.

”No. We'll send a simple message writ in the symbols of slaves. Something cryptic like fight at the dark moon.”

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