The Knight Marshal (The Silk & Steel Saga) Page 4

  Bear said, “I’ll get a torch.”

  They waited on the top step, caught between darkness and a killing cold. The wind howled outside like a beast denied.

  Bear returned, torchlight dancing across the dark stone.

  Kath wrested an unlit torch from the nearest bracket, holding it to Bear’s till hers ignited. The torch sizzled and hissed as if protesting the blaze, but the fire took hold. Blaine and Boar both did the same, multiplying the light. The four torches carved a slender niche from the ominous dark.

  Poised on the top step, Kath stared down the dark gullet, assaulted by painful memories. Duncan! Pushing her nightmares aside, she strained to feel the Quickner…but felt nothing. Resigned, she started down the long stairs, torchlight shimmering behind her. Crouching low, Kath checked every step. Sweeping her torch back and forth, she prayed to find it, prayed to be spared the horror below. A chilling darkness choked around her, as if it might snuff all hope. The rough-carved stairs spiraled down, descending into the depths of hell. A cold sweat sheened her face, yet she refused to turn back. Down and around, they descended a thousand steps into the gaping darkness. No one spoke, nothing but the clink of arms and armor.

  A horrible stench rose from below, the putrid smell of death.

  “It must be the guards.” Kath kept her voice to a hushed whisper.

  They reached the bottom, a rock-hewn antechamber dominated by the great copper door. Two guards lay crumpled on the floor, both bloated with rot, the source of the stench. Kath fixed her gaze on the door. Green with age and covered in runes, the great round door stood open like a portal gaping to hell. Beyond the doorway, the cavern was utterly dark.

  Behind her, Boar whispered, “It’s a trap.”

  “Perhaps, but we have to find the Quickner.” Murmuring a fervent prayer to Valin, Kath stepped across the threshold. The air smelled foul, brimstone mingled with a rotting stench. Her torch flickered feeble against the devouring darkness. Every sense screamed at Kath to flee, but she refused to retreat. Sweeping the torch low to the ground, she crept forward, straining to feel the amber focus. Darkness swallowed the light, a malevolent weight pressing down. The hairs prickled on the back of her neck. Sensing a threat, she whirled right and then left, straining to see. Her boot struck something, making a loud clatter. She winced at the sound. Broken stalactites littered the floor, the stone javelins of an angry god.

  “Who dares the Darkness?”

  Kath’s heartbeat leaped at the spectral voice.

  The chamber awoke.

  Five braziers erupted in red flames, sparks shooting towards the ceiling. Shadows slithered overhead, weaving amongst the blood-red stalactites. Smoke billowed from the braziers, mingling with the shadows, giving them substance.

  Impaled by nightmares, Kath froze.

  Behind her, Bear whispered. “Svala!”

  Kath drew her sword, needing the feel of cold steel. Averting her gaze from the menacing shadows, she crept forward, desperate to find the Quickner. Keeping her torch low, she threaded a path around the shattered stalactites, her doeskin boots whispering against the cold marble. A golden pentacle gleamed at the chamber’s cruel heart…and embedded in the floor, the shattered chains that had held Duncan. Duncan! Blood encrusted the chains. His blood. Pierced by the memory of his pain, Kath bit her lip, struggling to force the grim thoughts away. Clutching her sword, she stretched her senses, determined to find the small amber focus.

  Dark forms slithered overhead.

  “Who dares the Darkness?”

  Kath’s gaze was drawn aloft.

  Smoke and shadow coalesced. From the swirling darkness, details appeared taking the form of a horned demon. Hooked claws, curled teeth…and glowing red eyes that pulsed with a malevolent hatred, a massive demon reared overhead.

  Kath gripped her sword, her heart thundering. The demon seemed real…much more real than last time, as if the shadows had grown stronger. A forked tail lashed towards her. Kath leaped aside. Puzzled by the demon’s solid substance, she stared it, trying to pierce the riddle of its strength…and then she felt the Quickner! The realization stunned her like the fatal jab of a spear.

  The demon flashed a fang-filled mouth. “Knight of the Octagon...we see you…we curse you…we mark your soul as ours!”

  Blaine unsheathed his great blue sword. “Go to hell!” Striding forward, he struck a killing blow at the demon’s heart…but the fiend split itself in half. Seeping away from the blue blade, it dissolved back into smoke. The dark cloud billowed, retreating deeper into the cavern. Clawed hands and glowing red eyes reappeared. The shadow-demon reformed into a taunting menace. “Your steel can no longer harm me!”

  Kath stretched her hand aloft, straining to summon the Quickner…but it no longer answered her call. “Cut its right hand off!”

  Blue steel lashed out, slicing through the demon’s right wrist. Arm and hand dissolved into inky smoke, flinching away from the sapphire blade…but somehow the demon kept the Quickner! The focus hovered overhead, captured by shadow. Kath could feel it but she could not reach it.

  Mocking laughter rippled through the cavern. “Body and soul, you shall be ours, a knight of Darkness, bound for all eternity!”

  “Never!” Blaine advanced, swinging his sword in a deadly arc…but Kath sensed it was futile. Swords alone would not slay the demon, not as long as it held the Quickner…yet the fiend toyed with them, tempting them deeper into the cavern, as if it had some purpose. Understanding struck. She threw a harried glance backwards and saw the great copper door begin to swing shut.

  “The door!”

  Boar was closest. He hurled his battle axe and it lodged in the frame, holding the door ajar.

  “Retreat!” Kath sprinted for the door.

  Boar reached it first, his muscles straining to hold it open.

  “No!” The demon’s voice roared through the cavern. “You shall not leave!” The cavern floor began to heave and shake.

  Kath tripped and fell hard, tasting blood in her mouth. Bear grabbed her arm. Yanking her to her feet, he pushed her towards the door. She cast a glance backwards, watching as Blaine struck at the demon. “Blaine, run!” She yelled for the knight, but Bear forced her forward. “Get out, Svala!”

  Stalactites speared down, shattering into deadly shards.

  Kath dodged a stone spear, running for the door. A stone chip struck her cheek drawing blood. The floor lurched beneath her boots, trying to trip her. She staggered left, leaping over a fallen stalactite. Reaching the door, she turned and saw Blaine retreating in front of the demon, holding the fiend at bay. “Run!” She ducked beneath Boar’s straining arms and tumbled into the antechamber. Bear squeezed through behind her. Turning, he stood between her and the door, a sword in one hand, a torch in the other. Kath reclaimed her dropped torch and stood beside him, her heartbeat hammering. “Hurry!”

  The ground quaked, as if the earth yearned to swallow them.

  Blaine appeared, squeezing through the narrow opening, his sword and torch clattering to the stone floor. For half a heartbeat he was stuck, half in, half out. Fear spasmed across his face…and then something yanked him back.

  “Blaine!”

  A single gauntleted hand gripped the door frame.

  Bear’s sword and torch clattered to the floor. Grabbing the knight, he strained to pull him into the antechamber.

  Boar bellowed. “Hurry!”

  With a mighty heave, Bear pulled the knight through the narrow opening. Both men clattered onto the cold hard floor.

  Boar released the door. Yanking on his battle axe, he leaped away. The great axe came loose…and the copper door snapped shut.

  The companions stared at each other, relief warring with a primal fear, but then the ground shook with renewed violence, rock dust falling from above.

  “Run!” Kath leaped for the stairs, taking them two at a time. The others came behind, torchlight darting across dark stone. Beneath her boots, the stairs shuddered and shook like an angry dr
agon. Twice Kath fell to her knees, landing hard. Ignoring the pain, she continued to climb…and then her torch went out, as if snuffed by Darkness. She flung it aside. Placing one hand on the rough-hewn wall as a guide, she raced up the stairs. Two more torches snuffed to smoke, she felt the Darkness reaching for them. Kath quickened her pace. Ignoring the pain daggering her side, she scurried up the winding stairs. Fear breathed at her back. A single torch against the malevolent darkness, she felt the menace closing around them…and then a biting cold stung her face. Winter-cold air poured through the cleft, a breath of fresh air. Kath reached the top and stumbled out into the biting wind. Dawn broke across the sky, a single crack of light banishing the darkness.

  Exhausted, Kath fell to her knees.

  The others stumbled from the monolith. Sagging to the courtyard, Blaine stared at her. “I never want to do that again.”

  “Never.” Kath agreed, but the loss of the Quickner bit deep. “I want that stairway sealed, choked with rock from the Pit, the demon forever buried in the depths. Alone in the dark, it can choke on the Quickner.”

  The courtyard quaked beneath her, as if the demon railed in anger.

  Kath stood, coated in rock dust and sweat. She’d risked the others for a bitter answer. She’d failed to save Duncan, and now she’d lost the Quickner. Doom seemed to dog since coming to the Mordant’s Citadel. Kath prayed it wasn’t an omen of things to come.

  4

  Blaine

  The Mordant’s palace overflowed with riches beyond Blaine’s wildest dreams. Bright tapestries, golden doors, marble statuary, the entire palace dripped with wealth, a decadent monument to Darkness. As the son of a pig farmer, such unbound luxury made him feel both diminished and elated. Refusing to be intimidated, he was more than willing to partake of the bounty, a conqueror’s due. His boots rang on the marble hallways, gilded braziers glowing with heat. He reached the great golden doors and pushed them open, entering a massive bedchamber. Kath shunned the larger bedrooms, leaving Blaine the pick of the palace. The choice was easy. He grinned, liking the irony of an Octagon Knight sleeping in the Mordant’s bed. To the victors go the spoils. He’d never dreamt of such rich spoils.

  Tapestries filled the walls, vibrant with color, but all of them showed victories of the Dark. Blaine scowled, tempted to rip them down and order them burnt, but they looked fine enough to fetch a duke’s ransom, so he did his best to ignore the details. Shrugging his sword harness from his shoulders, he tossed it onto a velvet divan. His maroon cloak and chainmail followed, leaving a trail of armor and clothes strewn across the marble floor. Naked, he padded to the marble water closet. A golden tub filled the far wall, the sound of water trickling down an elaborate fountain, probably from a rain cistern on the roof. Splashing brazier-heated water on his face, he made his toilet and returned to the bedchamber, marveling at the royal luxuries.

  Scented candles lit the room with a soft glow. An enormous bed dominated the chamber. Large enough to sleep six, the enticing mound of silken pillows and supple furs beckoned. Weary from the long day, Blaine fell into bed, sighing as he sank into the goose down mattress, like floating on a cloud. He rolled amongst the silken sheets, so many luxuries he’d never tasted. Sprawling across the middle, he reveled in the downy comfort. Pulling a fur coverlet across his chest, he let sleep take him.

  “My Lord?”

  Blaine swam from a dream to find three scantily clad women peering down at him, a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. All three were breathtakingly beautiful. Bemused, he hugged the coverlet close. “Am I dreaming?”

  The women tittered, their faces lovely as angels, but the curves beneath their silken sheaths would shame a harlot.

  “My Lord, may we join you?”

  “Join me?” He was very confused, except for his manhood, which was standing stiff as a knight’s salute. “Who are you?”

  “We served the Mordant.”

  The blonde smiled. “And now we wish to serve you, the hero of the citadel.”

  “We only wish to please.” The brunette gave him a pretty pout.

  Hero, he liked the sound of that. “But you’re free, you don’t need to do this.”

  “But we wish to serve.”

  “Won’t you let us pleasure a hero?”

  “Won’t you let us please you?”

  It was like talking to a three-headed hydra, a very lovely hydra. And they used that word again, hero. Blaine sat up, his mind at odds with his manhood. He’d never been called a hero, except in derision, and never by such beautiful women. Perhaps he’d finally earned the title. He’d be a fool to turn them away. Throwing back the covers, he revealed his eagerness. “Join me.”

  They smiled, shrugging silken sheaths from their shoulders, revealing luscious curves. Naked, they climbed into his bed. Blaine could not believe his good fortune. Lying back amongst the pillows, he opened his arms wide, smothered by naked beauty. His hand found a ripe breast while tender lips found his manhood. He gasped at the intimate touch, straining to keep control. Some of the things they did seemed strange at first, but he soon succumbed to their tender pleasures. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Every touch was exquisite; every part of him licked and fondled. He groaned with ecstasy, shivering on the brink. He’d done it before, but the town whores always made short work of it. This was different, so very different. The women found ways to make it last, an eternity of pleasure, a night of dalliance. Blonde, brunette, and redhead, he sampled a bouquet of delights. They took turns riding him like a stallion and then he took them like a bull in heat, bellowing his delight. Three times he reached ecstasy, finally collapsing in a stupor of pleasure. Sated with sex, he slept entwined with beauty, like a hero feted in paradise.

  Tap…tap, tap, a noise intruded on his sleep. Blaine tried to push it away, reluctant to leave dreams of endless pleasure, but the sound persisted. Tap…tap, tap. He swam awake. The women snuggled close around him, oblivious to the disturbance. Groggy from sex, his gaze circled the chamber. Night darkened the room, most of the candles melted to stubs, but nothing seemed amiss.

  Tap…tap, tap.

  The sound came from the far doors, but he could have sworn there was nothing out there but a balcony, a sheer drop overlooking the tiered city.

  Tap…tap, tap.

  Freeing himself from the feminine tangle, Blaine struggled from bed. The blonde sighed but none of them woke. Blaine grinned, perhaps he’d given as good as he got. He reached for a candle, a small circle of light against the dark, and padded naked toward the double doors.

  Tap…tap, tap.

  Annoyed at the intrusion, he yanked the doors open. A cold wind gusted in, snuffing his candle. He blinked against the dark, but then he saw it. A giant albatross fluttered to the railing. Pale as death, the great bird stared back at him, its head at eye level, but instead of a bird, it was a monster. Eyes and mouth of a man! The winged beast was an abomination, a fiend sprung from hell!

  “The Mordant sees you, Knight of the Octagon.”

  Stunned, Blaine staggered back a step.

  Its voice was a dry rasp. “The Mordant marks your soul for you dared to breach his Citadel.”

  Blaine reached for his sword, shocked to realize he stood naked before the fiend.

  “Pain will be your future, and forever will be your service, for he shall twist flesh and meld souls crafting you into one of the damned.” The great wings flapped as the creature hovered above the railing. “Look at me to foresee your fate, to foresee your doom.”

  “No!” Blaine threw the candle, a feeble weapon.

  The fiend laughed. “You will be a man no more!”

  Blaine whirled, desperate for his sword. Tripping over the trail of clothing, he finally reached the divan. Sweeping the blue sword from its scabbard, he charged the balcony, but the fiend was already gone, great wings beating toward the moon-drenched clouds. Naked, Blaine stood on the balcony, his sword raised to the heavens, his shout chasing the monstrosity south. “I’ll kill him! I’l
l kill him first!”

  A winter wind beat against him, snatching at his words. Shivering against the bitter cold, he slammed the doors shut and set the bar. Shaking, he returned to bed to find the three women watching him, the fur covers clutched close.

  “Did you see?”

  Pale faces stared back at him. The redhead gave a grim nod.

  Blaine’s voice was a low growl. “What was that thing?”

  “A gorelabe, a messenger of the Mordant.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It means our master still lives.”

  “Your master!” Her answer infuriated him. He yanked the covers from the bed, revealing their nakedness. “Get out! All of you out!” He brandished his sword and they fled before him, scampering from the bedchamber with a piteous squeal.

  The door slammed shut and he was alone.

  Scaring naked women, Blaine shook his head, ashamed of himself, yet he could not let them see his shaking hands. He climbed into the massive bed, pulling the warm furs close, clutching his sword. The luxuries of the palace were forgotten, poisoned by nightmares. His gaze haunted the balcony doors. An albatross melded with a man, he shuddered at the horror. How could such a twisted creature ever come into being? How could swords defeat such fell magic? The monster’s threat echoed through his mind, “forever will be your service.” Blaine made the hand sign against evil. “I’ll kill him first.” He clutched his sword, his words full of defiance, but in his mind a ravening fear took hold.

  5

  Katherine

  Torchlight played across the frieze of demons, shifting shadows granting the illusion of life. While the palace slept, Kath escaped the bonds of duty, fleeing to the demon-carved hallway. Like a restless spirit she returned desperate for succor. Stone-carved demons leered down at her, as if they sensed her weakness, but Kath did not care. With urgent fingers, she sought the hidden key. Eye of varg and claw of balrog, her fingers pressed the riddle wrought in stone. Tongue of ghoul and skull of lich, she longed to see him. Tooth of snarg and scale of dragon, she pressed the last stone praying for her heart’s desire.