The Skeleton King (The Silk & Steel Saga) (7 page)

7

Katherine

Dawn lit the sky as the companions
rode out of the foothills and into the steppes. Kath regretted leaving the forest,
but duty drew them northward. She swiveled in the saddle for a last look,
holding the memories of her wedding night close to her heart.

Duncan rode beside her, his voice pitched for
her alone. “The trees will remember…and so will I.”

She felt a blush heat her face.
“Last night was…perfect.”

Hoofbeats came from behind as Zith
and the others drew close. Unwilling to share the morning, Kath urged her
stallion to a trot. Golden grasses rippled in the wind, stretching to every
horizon. Unmarred by roads or trails, the north seemed beautiful at first, an
endless sea of sun-kissed grasslands, but then the dull sameness began to wear
on Kath, a sixth sense adding to her unease. The openness of the steppes made
her nervous, too flat, too exposed, too vulnerable for a party of five. Feeling
as if she rode into a trap, Kath gripped her sword hilt, pinpricks of unease
dancing down her spine. The wolf seemed to sense it too, disappearing into the
tall grass for hours at a time and then returning to Danya’s side.

They rode without talking, the
threat of the steppes dampening even Blaine’s
enthusiasm.

A pillar of dark wings loomed
ahead, an exclamation mark punctuating the golden grasslands. Ravens wheeled in
tight circles, always the first to arrive and the last to leave, the
handmaidens of death. Kath steered her stallion toward the dark pillar. At
least the ravens served as good guides, marking the trail of dead horses.

A rotting stench heralded another
carcass. A rush of black wings scattered at their approach, raising a cacophony
of harsh caws. Danya hung back but Kath needed to see. Mauled by predators, the
dead horse was little more than skin and bones and saddle. Duncan dismounted, disturbing a legion of
flies. “Maroon trappings emblazoned with the Octagon, the same as the others.”

Kath scowled, a grim reminder of
the Mordant’s treachery.

“There’s nothing here. The Mordant
leaves no clues.” Duncan
swung into the saddle, his longbow in his hand.

Kath nodded, urging her sorrel
stallion to a canter, eager to be away. The others followed. Bunched close, they
pressed on into the north, searching for the next plume of ravens.
 

For six days they rode north,
following a trail of dead horses. Camping at night, they slept fitful without a
fire. Rising at first light, they spent long days in the saddle, chewing dried
venison for meals. They made good progress, but for every league north, Kath’s
unease grew.

The wolf loped alongside Kath’s
stallion, looking up as if he heard her thoughts. Bryx chuffed and then darted
away, melting into the tall grass like a dark ghost. Kath watched him disappear,
wondering what he’d find.

Duncan’s gelding pulled even with hers.
“Trust the wolf.”

Kath shrugged, but the tightness of
her shoulders would not go away.

“The wolf has a better sense of
smell than any of us.”

“Even you?”

“Perhaps.” He flashed a grin but
his voice was serious. “If there’s any danger, the wolf will spot it first.”

Kath nodded, knowing he was right,
but she kept searching the horizon, expecting a threat that seemed just beyond
sight. The sun climbed to the noon zenith, a pale disc in a winter-gray sky,
providing little warmth against the chill wind. By unspoken agreement they kept
riding, wrapped in wool cloaks, their appetites ruined by another dead
horse.
 

Kath rode next to Duncan. “Do you suppose the trail leads
straight to the Dark Citadel?”

“This trail leads to trouble.”

His words echoed her feelings.
 

“The Mordant will find a patrol of soldiers
long before he reaches the Dark Citadel.” His stare met hers, his face hard.
“That’s when trouble will find us.”

She tightened her grip on her sword
hilt.

Duncan steadied his horse. “Back in the
monastery, the monks had maps of the far north. Brittle and faded with age, the
maps all showed the same thing. A great wall divides the steppes, marking the
southern boundary of the Mordant’s domain. Ten gates, spaced leagues apart,
provide the only breach in the long wall.” He gave her a piercing stare. “The
maps all carried the same warning. The gates are guarded by a foul magic.”

Kath sketched the hand sign against
evil, recalling nightmares from her childhood. Weaned on tales of valor, she’d
heard wild stories about demon-guarded gates in the far north, but she always
assumed the knights had been too far into their cups, the ale twisting the truth
to a nightmare. But that was before she believed in magic. She reached for her
gargoyle, needing to be sure the small figurine was safe. “Walls we can deal
with, but we might want to avoid the gates.”

He nodded. “I’m betting the trail
of dead horses leads to a gate.”

“Then we’ll need to veer away at
the first sign of the wall.”

“Just so.”

They rode in silence, carving a
path through the deep grass. Kath scanned the horizon, searching for a first
glimpse of the wall, but the steppes remained unbroken, a never ending sea of
grass.

A lone wolf howled in the north.

The sound spiked through Kath. She threw
a warning glance at Duncan,
her unease mirrored on his face.
 

A woman’s scream split the sky.

Kath pulled the stallion to a halt,
her sword flying to her hand.

Danya clutched her horse’s mane,
her face pale, her eyes glazed. “
From the
north!”
She shuddered, shaking her head. “Something evil comes!” She
writhed in the saddle, her stare wild and unfocused. “
Abominations!
They claw at my mind!”

Blaine unsheathed his blue steel sword, urging
his horse next to Danya. “I’ll protect you!”

Zith struggled to control his
horse, his mare turning skittish.

Kath and Duncan stood in their
stirrups, staring north, searching for the threat, but the horizon seemed
empty, nothing but an unbroken field of grass.

“There!”
Duncan pointed.
“See the ripples in the grass, like arrows racing toward us!”

Kath saw them, six long furrows
speeding toward them, one leading the others. “What is it?”

A howl ripped from the north, a
twisted wail, like hounds loosed from the bowels of hell. The sound clawed at
Kath’s soul, a shiver of fear.

Danya screamed,
“They’re hunting us!”

Duncan nocked an arrow, steadying his horse
with his knees. “Get the others away!” He drew the great bow to a kiss.

Kath yelled a warning. “One of
those might be Bryx!”

The bowstring thrummed. “I know.” Duncan reached for a
second arrow. “
Ride!
”

Kath spurred her stallion to a
gallop, herding the others toward the southeast. Her sword in her hand, she
swiveled in the saddle, looking for Duncan,
looking for the threat.

The longbow twanged, black-fletched
arrows arching into the sky.

A snarl of pain erupted from the
north, a tortured cry that seemed half-human.

Her horse leaped forward, finding
extra speed, running in a blind panic.

A deep-throated baying followed,
the hounds of hell loosed to the hunt.

Hoof beats came from behind. Duncan rode low in the
saddle, racing to catch up.
 

Kath urged her sorrel stallion for
more speed. Racing behind her companions, she drove them forward, a prickle of
fear lancing her back.

Another
howl
, closer than before, the hounds narrowed the gap.

Her stallion surged forward, ears
pinned back, foam flecking his mouth, but Kath knew the race was already lost.
She scanned the horizon, desperate for a defensible position, but the steppes
were a trap, flat and vulnerable with nowhere to hide.

A black-fletched arrow thrummed
past her, skewering the rump of the packhorse. The horse’s rear leg crumpled.
Squealing in pain, the packhorse fell, hooves churning in terror.

Zith turned in the saddle, shock on
his face.

Kath screamed at the monk, “
Ride!
” She knew what Duncan was doing, offering the hellhounds easy
meat. Lashing her stallion passed the flailing horse, she prayed for the
sacrifice to work.

Wild baying drew near.

Duncan pulled alongside her, the black
gelding streaked with sweat. Neck and neck, the horses stretched for speed.
Kath risked a glance behind, catching a glimpse of dark forms racing through
the grass.
“They’re coming!”

The baying deepened, close and
hungry, like a hot breath on the back of her neck.

Kath cursed their ill luck, asking
the stallion for more speed.

The wild baying stopped. A sudden
eerie silence descended, loosing a threat that shivered down her spine.

The horses kept at the gallop, eyes
showing white, sweat soaking their flanks. Kath crouched in the saddle, feeling
death at her back.

A dark streak raced past. Shaggy fur,
tan and black, larger than a wolf, the beast ignored the other riders, closing
on the lead horse.

Fear knifed through Kath;
the beast hunted like no natural animal!
Wolves always culled the weak, taking the easy meat…but these hounds sought the
leader. Kath screamed a warning, “
Danya,
lookout!”

Blaine swiveled in his saddle, but the hound
raced passed, leaping onto the hindquarters of Danya’s mare. Teeth and claws
ripped into horseflesh. The mare skidded to a halt, kicking and squealing in terror.
Danya clung to the saddle, staring back at the beast, her face twisted in fear.

An angry snarl raced through the
deep grass. Bryx vaulted onto the tan beast, teeth flashing. The two predators
tumbled into the grass, a snarling ball of hate.

“Kath,
behind you!”

Kath whirled to see a second beast
leap onto her stallion. A snout like a wolf and teeth like a sabercat, it
lunged for her face. Her sword flashed a cutting stroke. The beast snarled and
fell back, claws raking her stallion’s flanks. The warhorse squealed, a kick of
iron-shod hooves dislodging the hound. Kath wheeled the stallion, controlling him
with her knees. Trained to war, the horse reared. Iron shod hooves lashed out,
but the beast evaded the stallion. Kath sheathed her sword and reached for a throwing
axe. The hellhound circled, keeping low to the ground, trying to flank the
stallion. The warhorse pivoted, a dual of hooves against claws. Kath saw an
opening and loosed the axe. Her steel bit deep. Blood gushed from beast’s
throat. Her warhorse plunged for the kill, smashing the beast’s head to a
bloody pulp.

Kath reined the stallion to a stop,
trying to make sense of the chaos. Zith fought on foot, retreating from a snarl
of fangs. His quarterstaff whirled, barely keeping the beast at bay. But as she
watched, the monk
slipped!
 
The hellhound pounced. Zith screamed.

Kath reached for her second axe, a
whirl of steel…but the timing was off. The axe struck a glancing blow.

Unharmed, the beast whirled, a
snarl of saber sharp teeth. Kath urged her warhorse to attack. Rearing, her
stallion lashed with ironshod hooves, but the hellhound leaped away. The
warhorse pivoted but the beast moved lightning-quick. For half a heartbeat, she
lost it in the tall grass.

Slavering teeth rushed toward her. The
hellhound leaped on her stallion’s flanks, attacking the rider instead of her
horse. Claws scrabbled against horseflesh. A slaver of jaws snapped at Kath’s
face. She jerked away, trying to pull her sword from the scabbard. Pain lanced
through her left thigh, the hellhound’s claws piercing leather. The stallion
bucked and plunged, squealing in panic, desperate to dislodge the beast.
 

Kath pulled her sword free. Bright
steel slashed down. She stabbed at the hound, frantic to hold the teeth at bay.
An arrow thunked into the beast. She felt the hellhound shudder, a gleam of
hate in its yellow eyes. A second arrow confirmed the kill. Kath pushed the
carcass away, shaking from the fight, her stallion quivering beneath her.

Horses whinnied in pain but the snarl
of the hellhounds’ had fallen silent. All around them, the grass was beaten
flat and bloody. Three horses were down, hooves flailing in agony…but Kath’s
gaze sought the leather-clad archer.

Duncan strode towards her, his longbow in his
fist. “Are you harmed?”

Relief washed through her, “Is it
over?”

“For now.” Reaching up, he drew her
from the saddle. Pulling her to his chest, he held her close, as if needing to
prove she lived. They clung to each other till her heartbeat slowed…and the
squeals of the horses intruded.

Kath whispered, “The others.”

Duncan stepped away…but Kath’s left leg
crumpled beneath her weight. Duncan
caught her. Kath swayed, biting her lip. “That fight took more out of me than I
thought.”

“Let me see.”

“It’s nothing.” Kath shook her
head. “The others may need help.” Taking a steadying breath, she limped across
the bloodied grass, pain lancing her left thigh. Gritting her teeth, she made
her way toward Blaine and Danya, avoiding the thrashing hooves of Danya’s mare.
“Are you two hurt?”

Blaine leaned on his blue sword, a
decapitated hellhound at his feet. Danya sat nearby, hugging the wolf, blood
smeared on her face. Bryx had a tattered ear and a bloody gash along one flank,
but he looked as if he’d survive. Danya hugged the wolf, a half-crazed look on
her face. “The horses! They hurt! Can’t you ease their pain!”

Duncan pulled his dirk. “I’ll take care of
the horses.”

Kath nodded. “Where’s Zith?”

The monk groaned, “Over here.” He
struggled to rise, his dark-blue robe torn to bloody shreds, a claw mark slashing
his chest. “That beast almost had me.” He looked at Kath, his face pale. “My
thanks.”