The Flame Priest (The Silk & Steel Saga) Read online

  More magic? The possibility stunned Kath. How much magic was in the world? Nightmares of the magic-sniffing goblin-man invaded her mind. Kidnapped by the captain…all because of my gargoyle. Connecting the ideas, Kath’s eyes widened. “That’s why the Mordant is so powerful, isn’t it? He’s spent the ages collecting focuses?”

  “Yes, but magical focuses are the least of his powers. The Mordant has the divine favor of the Dark God. It is rumored that the Dark Lord endows his dedicates with powers and special favors. Favors that do not require the use of a focus.”

  Kath made the hand sign against evil, her voice a hesitant whisper. “What powers does he have?”

  “Rumors shrouded in history…none have ever lived to tell the truth of the tales.”

  An icy touch feathered down Kath’s back.

  “Even more dangerous than his magics, you must never forget what you are dealing with. As the oldest Harlequin, the Mordant has served the Dark Lord for more than a thousand years.” His voice became heavy with thought. “It is hard for any of us to imagine a thousand years of memories, a thousand years of evil.”

  Hearing the unexpected catch in the master’s voice, Kath asked, “Do you wish for it? Do you yearn for a thousand years of life?”

  Rocking back on the bench the master gave her a shrewd look offset by a light laugh. “Who is the master and who is the apprentice?” Shaking his head, Master Rizel said, “Such a span of years is not natural. I would never trade my soul for more life. But, to have the wisdom of thousands years, that is tempting…to any monk of the Order.” His voice sank to a whisper. “For you see, the Kiralynn Order seeks that kind of wisdom, but we do it within the Light, always within the Light. We collect, preserve, and study the histories and learnings of those who have gone before us. By standing on the shoulders of others, we dare to reach for a wisdom that is far beyond our years.”

  The clouds shifted in the afternoon sky, flooding the garden with sunlight like a blessing from the gods. Smiling into the warmth, Master Rizel said, “But I am forgetting myself. There is a practical aspect to today’s lesson. The Grand Master has given permission for you, and each of your companions, to be tested, though we doubt the others will succeed.”

  Curious, Kath watched as the master removed a folded square of fur and a cloth bag from his pocket. Spreading the fur on the stone bench between them, he up-ended the bag, spilling an assortment of odd and ends across the fur.

  It looked like a thief’s harvest, but Kath knew otherwise. “These are focuses, aren’t they?”

  “Some are and some aren’t. It is all part of the test…a test that is normally reserved for sworn members of the Order…but these are dire times.” The master distributed the items, creating a space between each one. “None from among the Order has been able to bond with any of these focuses, and so we offer you the chance to extend your abilities.” He waved toward the items. “We offer you our treasures. Take your time and examine each of the items. Feel them with your mind, your heart, and your magic. See if any of them speak to you.”

  Kath studied the collection of odds and ends, a strange mixture of the unusual and the ordinary. Some of the items were miniature works of art, carved by master craftsmen, while others were costly, encrusted with jewels and gold, but most could have come from a peasant’s hut. Skeleton keys, smooth pebbles, odd colored stones, rings, bracelets, amulets, a broken bit of antler, loose gems, carved figurines, a seashell, an ordinary spoon, all lay in a jumble on the fur, as if a thief had picked the pockets of kings and paupers alike. She studied the jumble, wondering what they did, wondering which were true and which false.

  Of all the pieces, the most exquisite was a small dragon carved of turquoise. So detailed, the dragon looked as if it could take wing. Gesturing toward the turquoise carving, Kath said, “May I?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She picked up the dragon and held it cradled in her palm. The carving was magnificent, as if the tiny dragon could breathe fire and take wing. She marveled at the craftsmanship, but it did not spark anything within her. Disappointed, she returned the tiny dragon to the fur and examined the others. She considered each one, but her hands always found their way back to a small pyramid carved of golden amber. The amber felt warm to the touch and there was something fascinating about the way the translucent gemstone caught and held the light.

  Beside her the master said, “You are drawn to the pyramid?”

  “Other items are more beautiful…but there is something about the warmth of amber and the perfect shape of the pyramid.”

  With a grace more common to a warrior than a man of letters, the master rose from the bench. “Then we shall see if the pyramid is truly meant for you.” From the pocket of his robe, he produced a long golden sash. “First, you must be blindfolded.”

  “But why?”

  “There is no other way.”

  Kath nodded and held still as the master secured the golden silk.

  “Now give the pyramid back to me.”

  Kath was surprised to find that she still clutched the pyramid. Reluctant to relinquish it, she forced her fingers to uncurl. The master took the pyramid. Her hand felt empty. She sat in darkness, her senses telling her that he rearranged the items displayed on the fur.

  A hushed stillness settled over the garden.

  “Stretch out your hand but do not touch any of the items.” The master’s voice held a note of command. “Use all of your senses to find the pyramid. Take your time, and when you are sure, reach down and snatch the pyramid from the bench. You have but one chance to find the focus. Touch anything else, and you fail. Move only when you are ready. Let the magic be your guide.”

  Another test, the monks were overly fond of them. Kath yearned for the pyramid but the task seemed impossible. Blindfolded, and granted only a single touch, there was no way she could find it. Shrouded in darkness, she scowled, befuddled by the test. The monks expected too much. If the pyramid could help defeat the Mordant then why not just give it to her?

  The master’s whisper pierced the darkness. “You think too much. Stop relying on your eyes alone. Use your other senses. Listen to your inner voice. Still the clamor in your mind and find the magic within. If it is meant to be, the pyramid will call to the magic within you. Relax, for if you cannot find the pyramid then you will never be able to wield it.”

  Kath struggled to still her mind and quell her doubts. Taking deep calming breaths, she stretched her senses. The garden’s lush green scent surrounded her, a heady perfume of life. The stone bench felt cool beneath her. The warmth of the sun caressed her face. She felt the rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her left hand curled around her mage-stone gargoyle. Magic throbbed within her gargoyle but Kath pushed it away, seeking something else, something kindred but different. She stretched out her hand, yearning for the pyramid. A pinprick of magic tugged at her awareness. Kath focused on the pinprick, like a candle guttering in the dark. She willed the spark to grow, to blaze bright. Suddenly sure, she reached down and snatched the magic from the fur. Her fist tightened, sensing the amber pyramid within. A smile of triumph filled her face.

  The master released the blindfold. Kath blinked at the light.

  “I knew you would succeed.” His voice was warm with pride.

  She gazed down at the small pyramid. “What does it do?”

  “This focus is the Order’s gift to you, to help in the fight against the Mordant. Use it well.”

  “But what does it do?”

  Gathering up the baubles and returning them to the cloth pouch, the master said, “Some focuses have a history that is known to the Order, while others are a blank slate. This pyramid is one whose history is lost. But even if we knew what it did, there is no guarantee that it would perform the same feats for you. Magic is always a combination of the abilities of the person and the abilities of the focus. Every combination is different.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Take for example, Master Garth. You’ve
seen for yourself the great works of healing he can perform with his amulet, but when the master passes from this life, the next person to bond with the amulet may only be able to use the focus to heal burns or to cure simple fevers, nothing more. It is just as possible that the next person may be able to work even greater feats like healing the blind or the deaf. The master’s amulet is clearly keyed to healing, but the exact nature of the magic depends on the innate ability of the person bonded to the focus.”

  Kath considered the master’s words, pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “So that’s why the captain and his men kidnapped me instead of just stealing my gargoyle?”

  “Just so. If necessary, they would have killed you to get your focus, but they prefer to take the prize intact, in order to study your magic…and twist you to the service of the Mordant.”

  Kath shuddered.

  The master’s voice softened. “You did well to escape that trap.”

  She fingered the crystal dagger sheathed at her belt. “And now I have to chase the Mordant into the north, into his lair.” Searching the master’s face, she whispered, “Is there any hope of defeating him?”

  “There is always hope. Despair is the ally of evil.”

  For a moment, the master reminded her of the knight marshal. The one-eyed marshal would have said the same thing, but it seemed a slender answer against the power of a thousand years of evil. “But how can such a monster be defeated?”

  The master stilled, closing his eyes, a look of contemplation on his face. “The Book of Prophecy says that the companions will find among themselves the right combination of swords and magic, of mind and heart, to defeat the demon that walks in the guise of a man.” Opening his eyes, the master said, “Evil always has weaknesses. The Mordant is very old, and very powerful…and therefore very arrogant. Trust to yourselves, and you will find a way.”

  Kath scowled. “Just words and cryptic messages.”

  “Words have power.” He raised an eyebrow against her skepticism. “Arrogance is the Mordant’s most obvious weakness, which may explain why the gods chose you to find the crystal dagger.”

  She stared at him, hungry for understanding.

  “Think about it. The Mordant has lived for over a thousand years. With the arrogance of so many lifetimes, he holds mere mortals in contempt.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “If he holds men in contempt, how much more will he underestimate the worth of a young woman?”

  His words struck with the power of lightning. She sat stunned. This was a lesson she already knew, an advantage she’d already claimed. It had worked against the oily captain and his men, but she hadn’t thought to use it against the Mordant. She studied the master’s face, wondering what else she’d missed, what else she didn’t understand. “But why can’t the gods just say what they mean? Why give us nothing but riddles?”

  The master laughed, “Always so impatient.”

  She stared at him, insistent.

  He nodded. “We’ve discussed this before. The Lords of Light gave you a mind and a free will; they expect you to use both.”

  Kath muttered, “Sometimes I’d trade a bit of free will for a direct answer.”

  “No you wouldn’t.” His rebuke cut like a sword. “To give up your free will is to become a slave. A woman who dares all tradition to take up the sword would never submit to a slave collar.”

  Kath’s face flamed red.

  A familiar look crossed the master’s face, signaling a lesson to come. Gesturing toward the carved marble nestled among the leaves, the master said, “Do you remember the first day we met? I told you the story behind that statue, the story of the Three Monk-keys?”

  Kath’s stare was drawn to the marble carving of three creatures, mythical animals that seemed to be caricatures of men. “I remember. The empire was destroyed because the people refused to see, hear, or speak evil.” After a pause she added, “You said it was one of the oldest pieces of art in the Order’s collection and one of your favorites.”

  The master flashed a satisfied smile. “Ah, then you were listening.”

  Kath could not help but return his smile.

  Settling into the bench, the master said, “After the fall of the empire, the people commissioned the statue to always remind them of their duty to face evil whenever it comes among them…but I have often wondered why the artist chose to carve the lesson with three monk-keys instead of three men?” Pinning her with his stare, the master asked, “Do you know the reason why?”

  Accepting the challenge, Kath studied the statue. The carving was amazing; three mythical animals with long tails and flattened faces, yet the artist had given each of them very human expressions. One covered its eyes, another its ears, and the third its mouth. Kath stared at the statue, but the answer remained locked in stone. Stymied, she shrugged. “I don’t know master, but I‘m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “Impertinent as well as impatient.”

  “Yes, but I’d still like to know the answer.”

  “The artist carved monk-keys instead of men because the people of the empire surrendered their free will and forgot to think for themselves. They behaved like animals that mimicked, instead of men who think. By throwing away the two greatest gifts of the Lords of Light, free will and the power of thought, the people of the empire nearly became slaves of the Dark Lord.” His jewel-blue gaze pierced her. “Remember this when you face the Mordant lest you become his slave.” Confused, Kath dropped her gaze to the still waters of the reflecting pool. She did not understand how the monks’ clever teachings would help slay the Mordant. Swords made more sense.

  “Your time in the monastery is almost done.”

  A knot tightened in her shoulders.

  “You have learned much but your first reaction is always to reach for the sword. It will take more than swords to defeat this evil.”

  Kath shivered, for his words held the ring of prophecy. She stared into his sun-kissed face, searching for answers. She’d come to depend on his wisdom and insights. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “The more I learn, the more impossible it seems…”

  “You must never stop learning. Knowledge is always an advantage, a potent weapon against the Dark.”

  “And thus your Order hoards knowledge.”

  He chided her with a glance. Raising his right hand, he revealed the Seeing Eye tattooed in blue on his open palm, the symbol of the Kiralynn Order. “Seek knowledge, Protect knowledge, Share knowledge…as we have shared so much with you.”

  She avoided his rebuke, reaching out to touch the glassy surface of the reflecting pool. A single touch sent a ripple in all directions, shattering the mirrored image of the garden. Sometimes life seemed like a reflection, easily shattered. She glanced sideways at the master, afraid to ask but needing to know. “Will you come?”

  The question hung between them, too much revealed in her voice.

  Exposed, Kath rushed to shore up the naked question with a compelling argument. “If knowledge is such an advantage, then who better to join in the fight against the Mordant?”

  His hand slipped across hers, a reassuring warmth that was all too brief. “The Book of Prophecy warns of wars not battles. The Dark Lord will draw on every resource of hell to win this war. We have prepared you as best we can. You go to fight the most important battle, but others must stay behind to fight the war.”

  Disappointment hits hard. Kath tightened her grip on the amber pyramid and kept her gaze fixed on the reflecting pool. “So you’re saying the Mordant will start a war?”

  “The war has already started. Sir Cardemir was not the first to die.”

  A chill shivered down her back.

  His face was solemn, his eyes reflecting pools of infinite blue. “You came by way of Lanverness, from Queen Liandra’s court. Surely you heard of the horrors of Coronth?”

  She nodded, unsure where this was going.

  “Look beneath the Flame God’s religion and you will find the seeds of evil.”

  “A war not
just a battle,” she began to see Erdhe as a battlefield between Light and Dark. “But if the war is already started, what will the Mordant do?”

  His face was grim. “If history serves, the Mordant will play the role of the Deceiver, dividing those who serve the Light, turning ally against ally, brother against brother…till the kingdoms of Erdhe run with blood and chaos.”

  “But what of my visions in the Mist?”

  “Memories of the past, echoes of the future.”

  “But will it come to pass?”

  “Nothing is foreordained. What you saw was possible, not certain.” Master Rizel’s voice grew thoughtful. “But for the Guardian to choose that vision…such a future must be ripe with chance.”

  Kath’s fear annealed to iron. “Castlegard must be warned.”

  “The Octagon Knights will be called to battle, but swords alone will not prevail.”

  “They don’t even know he walks the southern kingdoms.”

  “So much has been forgotten. The Mordant is an ancient and insidious enemy. He will sow lies and turn ally against ally.

  Kath’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Divide and conquer…the first rule of war.”

  “Exactly, but this war will be unlike those that have gone before. This war will be waged for hearts and minds and souls…”

  Frustration boiled through her; the monks were nothing but words. “But how do you fight such a war?”

  He smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “With knowledge, and free will, and a steadfast heart.” His voice held a warning. “You must know your enemies and never forget your friends.”

  Kath shook her head and stared into the depths of the reflecting pool. The fading ripples distorted the view of the garden, mirroring her confusion.

  The master sighed. “You chaff at these lessons, thinking they are merely words, but even your Octagon Knights would say that you must understand your enemy in order to defeat him.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You must understand the true nature of evil in order to be victorious.”

  She sat still as a statue, watching his face in the reflecting pool. “But I don’t understand.”