The Skeleton King (The Silk & Steel Saga) (34 page)

42

Blaine

“My sword!”
Blaine
stared at the blue steel sword, desperate
to reclaim it.
Hands balled into fists, he strode towards the fox-faced
man, but Kath was suddenly in the way.

“No.”

He towered over her, his voice a
low growl. “
I’ll have my sword.”

Kath stood her ground, keeping a
hand on his chest, her voice a hushed whisper. “You’ll get your sword back.”
She turned, appealing to the wrinkled crone huddled beneath sheepskins. “We’re
allies of the painted people, sworn to fight the Mordant. Our weapons should be
returned to us.”

The crone nodded. “As you say.”

Blaine waited, keeping a leash on his anger.

Three lads, all of them tattooed
with badger faces, scurried up the steps to the dais. They brought Kath her
sword in its leather scabbard, the dagger for her boot, and her throwing axes
in their hawk-harness…and they brought Blaine
a dagger.
A dagger
. His anger erupted.
“The blue steel sword is mine!”

Grinning like a thief, the
fox-faced man raised the sapphire sword with both hands. Blue steel gleamed as
keen as when it was first forged, death crafted into steel. The fox sneered, “The
sword is mine, given as payment for your rescue. The price for our aid.” Twirling
the blue blade, he glared at Blaine,
his every gesture a taunt.

Blaine’s rage boiled over. “Are you a
merchant or a warrior? Where’s your honor?”

Anger rippled through the crowd.

Kath stepped between them, her gaze
fixed on the old woman. “The matter of the blue sword must be decided. Allies
should not require payment.”

Blaine hissed, “Just let me fight for it!”

Kath gave him a barbed stare, her
voice a hissed whisper. “We need allies not enemies.”

“Tell that to him!”

The old woman gestured to Blaine, her hand as frail
as a bird’s claw. “Come closer, knight of the Octagon.”

Scowling, Blaine sidestepped Kath and strode to the old
woman. A wizen sack of bones swathed in sheepskins, she looked so frail he
could snap her neck with a single hand. He wondered how such a shriveled old
thing could hold sway over a warrior people…but then he looked into her eyes,
dark brown flecked with gold, bottomless pools of memory, tugging at his soul,
pulling him into an abyss of obligation. A question whispered in his mind,
*Will you be true?*

A
witch!
He tired to pull away, but she held him with her stare.

*
Will you be steadfast or will you reach for glory?*

His mind reeled, why couldn’t he
have both? Honor
and
glory,
I’ll have both!

*Beware
the choice, knight of the Octagon.*

Something snapped in his mind. Blaine staggered
backwards…and the link severed. Shaking his head, he studied the crone through
hooded eyes…but she was just a shriveled old woman, harmless beneath a
sheepskin cloak.

But there was nothing frail about
her voice. She pointed a bony finger at him. “Is it true you bartered the sword
for aid?”

“Yes, but…”

“And was the aid given?”

His anger simmered, ready to over
boil. “Yes, but…”

“Then the bargain was kept.”

His rage exploded. “But there never
should have been a bargain! Not among allies.”

She nodded like a sage. “Two sides
of the truth. Both claims have merit.” She gave him a small smile shrouded with
meaning. “Let the gods decide the sword’s fate.”

“What?”

“Let the blue sword belong to the
winner of the challenge.”

A
fight
, he could live with that…but only if
he
fought the challenge. Turning on his heel, he strode towards
Kath. “Name me as your champion!”

Kath gave him the smallest shake of
her head. “I cannot.”

“But I’ll win.”

“I know.”

“
You know!
Then let me fight!” He stared at her, struggling to
understand. “There’s no loss of honor in naming a champion.”

“It’s not about honor.”

“It’s a fight to the death!” but
she just gave him an obstinate stare. He wanted to shake her, to slap some
sense into her, but he used words instead. “
Look
at him!
He has the advantage of reach and strength, and he has a
blue steel sword!
You dare not fight
him! One mistake and he’ll gut you like a spring lamb.”

“Then I best make no mistakes.” Her
face was ghost-pale but her voice was steady.

“You’re mad! There’s too much at
stake. You can’t afford to lose.”

“I know.” A shadow of fear touched
her eyes. She handed him the harness with her throwing axes, “Hold these for
me?” and buckled on her sword.

The girl was stubborn beyond
reason. “Tell me why?”

Around them, the dais was being
cleared.

Kath pulled the crystal dagger from
her belt, “Because of this.” She gestured with the blade toward the tattooed
crowd, “and because of them. We need allies…and they need proof.”

“Proof?”

“Proof enough to follow a woman
into battle.” She gave him a weary smile. “The gods gave me the crystal dagger,
mine to wield against the Darkness, but they did not make me tall, or strong,
or male…so I must always find more proof.” She reversed the crystal dagger,
extending the hilt toward Blaine.
“If I fail, then this is yours to wield.”

The
crystal dagger,
her trust staggered him. He took the blade but it felt
awkward in his hand. He was meant to wield a sword not a dagger. “You best not
fail.”

She nodded, her face solemn, and
then she did something that totally ambushed him. Standing on tiptoes, she
brushed a quick kiss across his cheek. “For believing in me.”

His face flame red. Unsure what to
say, unsure how to feel, he just stared at her…but she’d already turned away,
studying her opponent, preparing for battle.

A voice at his back said, “You must
leave.”

It was the lion faced man,
gesturing toward the stairs. Blaine
shook his head, realizing he’d wasted precious time; he should have been
counseling her on the fight instead of arguing, but it was too late for that.
He tucked the crystal dagger in his belt and followed the lion faced man down
the stairs, into the crush of spectators. Frustrated and angry, Blaine shouldered his way
through hostile faces till he reached the monk and Danya.

Zith stared at him, his face
haggard. “She does what she must.”

Blaine glared at the old man. “She’ll get
herself killed, and then where will we be?”

An expectant hush settled over the
crowd.
 

“Challenge has been given and
accepted.” Royce extinguished the single candle burning on the central pillar.
“The champions are named. Swords are chosen. The War Helm is in the hands of
the gods. Let the swords decide.” Bowing to Kath and the fox faced man, he
descended the stairs.

The dais stood empty except for the
two combatants. The fox faced warrior stood to the right, six-foot tall, broad
shoulders, a nimbus of bright red hair surrounding an insolent face. He wore a
patched chainmail shirt over a leather tunic, a seasoned warrior ready to fight.
Bristling with bravado, he twirled the blue steel blade, slashing the air with sweeping
strokes. The blue sword was mesmerizing, a thing of beauty, so keen it whistled
as it cut the air. The great blade scribed five foot arcs, a deadly swath
unmatched by any other weapon. To Blaine’s
eyes, the strokes were wild and undisciplined…but every cut held the promise of
death. Even in the hands of an unskilled warrior, a blue steel sword was a
weapon to be reckoned with.

On the opposite side, Kath stood
alone. Long blonde hair tied at the nape of her neck, clad in brown fighting leathers,
no shield, no greaves, no armor, nothing but a simple short sword. She stood
flat-footed, the sword hanging listless in her right hand, the point dangling
toward the ground, looking vulnerable and unprepared, but Blaine knew better. He recognized the flinty look
on her face. She was thinking, trying to outsmart her opponent, and that was
good, because everything else was stacked against her. Blaine ground his teeth, knowing she should
have named him her champion. A trial sanctioned by the gods should be fair. Not
leather against chainmail, not a short two-foot sword against a five foot
blade, and certainly not ordinary steel against a
blue steel blade
…but then the gods weren’t known for their
fairness. Blaine
balled his hands into fists, praying for Valin to intervene, knowing Kath would
need more than luck to survive.

A murmur rippled through the crowd,
and he realized the fight had begun.

The fox faced warrior circled the
dais, slashing the air with his sword, as if intimidation alone would win the
fight.

Kath stayed still, letting him come
to her.

The warrior barked a laugh. “Aren’t
you going to fight?” His voice changed from a taunt to a sneer. “A barefaced
woman pitted against a painted warrior. Of course you’re scared stiff, turned
to stone.”

Kath remained statue still,
watching through narrow eyes.

“Soon your fear will turn to water,
running down your leg.” Laughing, he drew close, the blue sword whistling with
menace. “Beg for mercy and you’ll live.” He sprang forward, aiming a viscous slash
at Kath’s head…but the girl was already gone. Dancing backwards, she kept one
step away from the great sword.

Snarling, he gave chase, “Stand and
fight!” but Kath did not listen. Round and round the dais, she led him on an
intricate dance, flirting with death, always staying a handbreadth away from
the blue blade. Her timing was uncanny, always dodging at the last moment,
goading her opponent to a fit of wild rage.

Blaine leaned forward, his fists clenched,
knowing the girl played a dangerous game. It took skill and nerves to dance so
close to death…but she couldn’t afford a single mistake…and sooner or later
she’d have to attack.

Kath dodged left…and
slipped!

The crowd gasped as she fell,
sprawled beneath the blade of her opponent.

The fox grinned, struggling to
change a horizontal swing into a downward slash.

Blue steel struck stone, sending up
a shower of chips…but Kath was already gone. Springing to her feet, she lunged
forward with a lightning strike, her sword slashing toward his face.
“Yield!”

Steel met flesh with a sickening
crunch.

Kath danced away.

Blood blossomed on the fox’s face.
He staggered backward, his nose smashed flat…but he did not die! Blaine groaned; she’d
attacked with the flat of her sword! The girl was going to get herself killed!

Kath backed away, her sword raised,
her voice loud enough to echo through the cavern. “
Yield! We aid the Mordant
by fighting amongst ourselves!”

Enraged, the fox was beyond reason.
Wiping the blood from his face, he charged like a bull.

Kath dodged away, narrowly evading
the sapphire sword.

The fox swung wide. Slash and hack,
he fought like a demon enraged, wild swings seeking Kath’s head, attacking with
a flurry of blows.

Kath sidestepped, dodging the blue
sword by a mere whisker.

Blaine bit his lip, drawing blood, bitterly
aware of Kath’s deadly dilemma. Against blue steel, she couldn’t engage and she
couldn’t parry, speed and grace her only weapons. A small woman fighting
against a tall man, like pitting a deer against a lion, the outcome seemed
inevitable. Blaine
couldn’t watch, yet he couldn’t look away, knowing a single mistake would cost
her life.

Drenched with sweat, both
combatants slowed but neither gave up. Locked together like ill-fated lovers,
the macabre dance moved to the center of the dais. Kath retreated, almost in a
straight line, her footsteps dragging, her blond hair streaked with sweat, her
eyes glazed.

The crowd stood, sensing the end
was near.

Blaine edged towards the dais, his hand on
his dagger, but Zith grabbed his arm. “
No.”

Time had nearly caught Kath.
Exhausted, she staggered backwards, her sword a frail weapon against blue steel.
 

The fox rushed in for the kill. He
loosed the blue steel blade in a mighty shoulder-high swing, a killing blow
aimed at her neck.

Kath stared as if transfixed.

Blaine screamed. “
No!”

At the last moment, Kath stepped
sideways…and the sword struck stone! Sparks
flared. Blue steel cleaved into the stone pillar, shattering the wax sheath,
biting deep into the red rock pillar…and then it stopped, the sapphire blade
held fast. The sword
stuck
in the
stone.

The crowd gasped in disbelief.

Kath raised her sword to the
warrior’s throat. “Yield.”

The fox strained to pull the sword
free, corded muscles bulging at his neck.

Kath forced his head back, the tip
of her sword drawing blood. “
Yield!”

Shagrith, the leader of the eagles,
leaped onto the dais. “
Kill him!”

Blaine gaped, ambushed by the eagle’s
betrayal of the fox.

“I said
kill him!”
Shagrith raged at Kath. “The fight is to the death! You
dare
to claim the War Helm yet you’re
afraid
to kill!”

Kath’s voice shook with rage. “I
kill
enemies
not
allies
. Are the lives of your men worth so little?”

Anger ripped through the crowd.

Kath kept her sword pressed to the
warrior’s throat, drawing a bead of blood. “For the last time, will you yield?”

Confusion played across the fox’s
face. He looked from the eagle to the sword and then slowly raised his empty
hands, his voice distorted by his smashed nose. “I yield.”

Kath lowered her sword, weariness
crashing across her face. She stared out at the crowd. “Now do you believe? Do
you have the proof you need?” Striding to the front of the dais, she raised her
voice to a shout. “
We are allies!
Our
swords are joined with yours. Together we’re destined to defeat the Mordant.”