The Skeleton King (The Silk & Steel Saga) (6 page)

Ulrich leaned over the map, casting
a furtive glance toward Griffin,
but the second son remained impassive. “Cragnoth is our smallest garrison. By
attacking the Crag, the Mordant proves he strikes at weakness, so I believe
he’ll try for a quick victory at Holdfast Keep or the Ice Tower.”

The king turned his gaze toward his
second son. “And you, Griffin?”

The prince did not hesitate. “The
mountain trails are perilously narrow at Holdfast and treacherous with snow at Ice Tower.
An army would take the better part of a month to cross at either point.” The
prince’s gaze narrowed, a thin smile on his face. “Since the subtly of treason
failed at Cragnoth, I believe the Mordant will abandon a dagger in the back in
favor of a battering ram.” He fingered his close-shaved beard. “I believe he’ll
empty the north, bringing his full force against us at Raven Pass.”

A murmur of unease circled the
table.

“A full assault in winter,” Sir
Gravis shook his head, his voice skeptical, “the Mordant has never been so
bold.”

Prince Griffin answered. “Winter is
the perfect cloak for trickery. While most men sit by their hearths, polishing
their swords, the Mordant will march in full strength against us.”

Sir Gravis persisted. “But in the
dead of winter? His supply train will triple in size just to keep his army in
wood for fires, let alone food.”

“He’ll not bother with a supply
train.” Every stare turned toward the king. “He’ll use the winter as a goad to
his army.”

Sir Lothar tugged on his mustache,
a frown creasing his face. “Victory or death. They’ll have to punch their way
south or freeze to death in the steppes.”

The king nodded. “Exactly.”

“Ruthless, very ruthless,” Lothar
chuckled but the sound held no mirth. “And the Octagon will bear the brunt of
the madness.”

“As always.”

“Where will he strike?”

“Castlegard will never fall, he’ll
not wager an army against mage-stone walls. And all the other trails are too
narrow.” The king’s gaze settled on his second-born son. “I agree with Griffin, he’ll strike at Raven Pass.”

Ulrich scowled but he did not
argue.

Sir Gravis leaned forward. “Then
you’ll be wanting our men.”

“Your men, your spare arms, and
your supplies.” The king swept his hand across the map, his fist coming to rest
on Raven Pass. “We’ll gather our strength at the
pass, 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
Pass.”

Ulrich grinned. “As captain of the
pass, 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
Pass.”

“But Raven Pass
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 brimming 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 Pass
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 bluster. Leadership, 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 scraped 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 Pass?”

“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
anticipate the attack, Osbourne, throwing the full weight of the maroon behind
a single bulwark. A desperate gamble…the gods 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 Pass.
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 hourglass 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 gods. 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 shields, 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 shimmered 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 shields. 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 gods 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 shivered 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.”

Kath took a deep breath, knowing it was her turn. “By Leaf and Bark, by
Sword and Shield, I, Kath of Castlegard, pledge my life, my love, and my body
to you, Duncan Treloch of the Deep Green…forever wed in the sight of the trees.”

In the back of her mind, Kath heard a chime, as if the gods sealed their
vows.

Duncan
stepped toward her. “It is done.” His arms
captured her, pulling her close. His mouth sought hers, a tender kiss that
deepened to more. She melted against him, feeling the pounding of his heart. But
then he pulled away, leaving her confused. His voice was rough with wanting,
“Now we seal our words with our bodies. I’ll light a second candle to guide
you. Come to me in the depths of the forest.” He gave her a hungry glance and
then slipped into the velvety darkness.

Kath stood alone in the candlelight. Now came the moment she both longed
for…and dreaded, but their vows would not be complete until their bodies were
joined. She fumbled with the ties of her clothing. Jerkin, shirt, pants and
small clothes, it all came off, including her gargoyle. Bundling everything
into her cloak, she tied it tight. Lastly, she unbound her hair, the tangled
tresses falling just below her breasts. Naked and exposed, she shivered against
the night chill. Her face flushed, but she refused to hide. Holding her sword
belt and her bundled cloak in one hand, she lifted the candle and stepped
barefoot into the forest.

A second candle glimmered nearby.

Her skin prickled in the cold. Taking a deep breath, Kath went to her
marriage bed. Stepping carefully passed gnarled roots and rusted swords, she
walked with her head held high, her hands away from her body, determined to
show Duncan there was no doubt.

He stood in the light of the second candle. Her gaze drank him in. Broad
shoulders and a chiseled chest, a line of dark hair traced a path to his tapered
waist and down to his loins. Her gaze followed the path, needing to see all of
him. His manhood stood rampant and proud like a battering ram. Kath quailed at
the sight.

His voice was soft and soothing, “There’s nothing to fear. The first time
is always the hardest for a woman, but I promise you the pain will be slight,
outweighed by the pleasure.”

Kath quivered, unable to answer.

He took the candle from her hand and set it by the other. And then he took
the sword and the bundle. Divested of both, she felt even more naked. And then
he was standing before her, so close but not touching. “Kath, my lioness, my
wife.” He cupped her face, his fingers stroking her cheeks, caressing her lips,
as if memorizing her features, and then his hands moved down, drawing her
blonde tresses away from her breasts. Exposed to the cold, her nipples grew tight
and tender as buds. He warmed them with his hands, an agony and an ecstasy. His
lips found hers. He lifted her against him and then laid her on the bower of
his cloak, a rustle of leaves beneath. She stiffened for a moment, a sudden
stab of fear, but then his lips and hands roused her. They kissed forever, tasting
and touching. Every caress ignited pleasure within her, like nothing she’d
every felt before…but then his hand slipped between her legs. Her breath
caught, a wild mix of fear and hunger. He opened her with a single finger. Shallow
at first but then deeper, she gasped at the secret touch. Wet and warm, her
back arched with need. His touch became insistent. Heat flashed through her. And
then he rolled on top. His weight pinned her to the ground, his breath harsh
against her face. “
Beloved!”
She felt
him poised at the gate, rampant and hard. The first thrust hurt…but then the
pleasure came in waves. She moaned against his shoulder, holding him tight,
riding the ecstasy.

#

Later, much later, she lay nestled against him. Sore but sated, Kath
could not believe it was done. Her fingers teased the hair on his chest.
“Duncan…my
husband!”

“I am that.” He captured her hand and kissed it.

“You chose the perfect tree.”

“Deep roots and many shields, the perfect melding of our two peoples.”

“So now I too belong to the Deep Green?”

“As much as I do.”

She heard the catch in his voice and regretted her question.

“The deep roots will carry and hold our vows. The Treespeaker will know
of our marriage.”

She hadn’t thought of that, but she liked that the Treespeaker would
know. “I’m glad.” Warm beneath his shared cloak, Kath stared up at the
branches, a lattice silvered by moonlight. “I don’t want this night to end.”

“Nor I.”

“I never thought it would be like that.”

“And how was it?”

“So…consuming.”

He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. “It’s only the first taste.”

Her imagination failed her…but her interest was piqued. “How else does it
taste?”

Duncan
rolled to his side, staring down at her. “Wild
like summer lightning,” he kissed her, “tender as a rain shower,” another kiss,
“soft and slow as a falling leaf,” he nibbled her lip, “hard and pounding like
horse’s hooves,” he pressed his manhood against her, “quick and sharp as a horn
thrust,” his hand went lower, “reckless as a ram in rut…as many different
flavors as there are leaves in the forest.”

Kath could not imagine it, but she grew warm with each kiss, each touch.
“I want to taste them all.”

He gave a throaty laugh, “My lioness!”

“But is it always so sticky?”

“My seed, your blood, our marriage bed.” Duncan rolled on top and took her again. This
time there was only pleasure.

#

Duncan
woke her with a kiss. “Kath, it’s time.”

She clung to the sweet dream, the memory of his touch, his taste.

“Kath!” his voice prodded her with urgency, “if you want to keep our
marriage secret, we must go.”

She startled awake. “So soon?” Clothed in black leathers, he knelt beside
her. “But you’re already dressed?” Her voice was laden with disappointment.

He grinned. “You would not wake. I gave you as much time as I could.”

She looked passed his shoulder, through the tree limbs, ambushed by the
brightening sky. Her breath caught. “We need to get back.”

He leaned over her, capturing her gaze. “I would tell them if you would.”

Tempted and touched, Kath considered it, but then she shook her head.
“No, this night was just for us.” Somehow she felt if they kept their marriage
secret, kept it just for themselves, then no one, not even the gods, could take
it way. She caressed his face, enjoying the rugged stubble beneath her
fingertips. “A promise of love before we engage the Dark.”

He kissed her, deep and ardent…and then he pulled away. “As you wish.” He
stood over her, gazing down. “I brought a water skin. If the others wake before
you return, I’ll say you’ve gone to wash.”

“Thank you…for everything.”

“My wife.” He gave her a loving look and then turned and strode through
the forest, a shadow in black leathers.

Naked, Kath stayed within the warmth of his cloak, clinging to memories
of the night. But the dawn was insistent. Sighing, she reached for the water
skin, making a quick ablution. Kath soon discovered she was more than sore.
Blushing, she wiped away the blood, no longer a maid. She dressed with care,
settling her gargoyle around her neck and the amber pyramid in her deepest
pocket. Buckling her sword belt, she shook out Duncan’s cloak, claiming a single autumn leaf
from their marriage bower, a keepsake of the night. Tucking the dried leaf
beneath her jerkin, she pocketed the two melted candle stubs and retraced her
steps, eventually finding their wedding tree. Dawn’s light filtered through the
branches, prodding her to hurry yet she paused before the tree. Laying a hand
on the old oak, she whispered, “Thank you.” Bowing to the tree and its burden of
shields, Kath hugged Duncan’s
cloak close and made her way back to the glade.