Free The Knight Marshal (The Silk & Steel Saga) by Karen Azinger Page A

if
slapped.
    Anger snarled his voice. “I want
the Mordant’s head.”
    “No.” Kath’s face turned
ghost-pale. “He must die by the crystal dagger or it will be no true death.”
    He glared at her. “The king gave me
a hero’s sword. I mean to use it.”
    “No.” She gripped his sword arm.
“It’s not about heroes. We must put an end to the Mordant. His evil has
grown too great.”
    “Or maybe you want the glory for
yourself.” Blaine pulled away. Beneath his feet, the rune-carved courtyard
quaked.
    “Do you feel that?” Kath glared at
him. “Evil is real. We fought evil in the cavern and won a victory for the
Light.”
    “Did we win? It does not feel like
a victory!”
    She looked away. “I know.”
    Beneath his boots, the tremor
slowed to a stop. Blaine turned away, watching the line of captured soldiers
pass rocks into the gullet of the bloody cavern, sealing the demon in the
depths. “The Citadel is ours, but the Mordant’s long gone, marched south with
his vast legions. For all we know, he could be ravaging the southern kingdoms
while we sit here, idly waiting.” He glared at her. “Instead of a victory, this
feels like a trap.”
    “We’re not idle.”
    “Aren’t we?” He choked on a bitter
laugh. “Zith wanders the halls searching for scrolls and magical trinkets while
the rest of us sit around, sharpening our swords. I call that idle.”
    “We’ll find a way south.” Her gaze
slipped away. “The gods will help.”
    “Really?” Sarcasm leavened with
bitterness rose like bile in his throat. “And what of the Octagon? Did the gods
help the maroon?”
    “Will two more swords make a difference?”
    “I’d like to think so.”
    She gave him a crooked smile. “I’d
like to think so too, but we’re charged to slay the Mordant.”
    “And how will we do that from
here?”
    “We’ll find advantages…and we’ll
find a way south.”
    He heard despair in her voice, despair
laden with frustration, yet he could not quell his own anger. “The bloody monks
said we need to slay the Mordant ere the red comet set.” He jabbed a finger
toward the west, toward the red comet hovering above the dark waters. “The
bloody comet is getting low in the sky.”
    “I know.”
    Her voice sounded so small it
galled him. He wanted to help her, he wanted to shake some sense into her and
ride south, he wanted to find the Mordant and slay him with his blue steel
sword, but he could do none of it. Instead, he reached for his maroon cloak and
swirled it around his shoulders. “My sword is yours.” Blaine stalked away,
anger in his stride, wondering how victory could taste so empty.

8
    Katherine
     
    A wolf’s howl shivered through the marble corridors,
piercing her gloom. Kath smiled to hear such a glorious wildness set loose in
the Mordant’s palace. She imagined how it would enrage the former ruler to find
wolf droppings in his gilded hallways. Her smile broke into a feral grin, a
petty revenge. Kath followed the mountain wolf’s howls, Bear and Boar padding
silent as shadows at her back.
    A pair of wolf-faced warriors stood
guard at the doorway, nodding at her approach. “Svala.”
    “How is she today?”
    Balthus, the taller of the two
answered, “The same, Svala. She will wake when the gods will it.”
    Always the same answer, always said
with the same complete confidence. “Let’s hope the gods will it to be soon.”
Balthus nodded and Kath passed through the doorway. They’d claimed a corner
chamber, the outer doors flung wide, opening onto a crenellated turret, but
instead of frigid cold it was cozy as a wolf’s den. Rich wool tapestries draped
the turret like tents, thick wool carpets strewn across the floor. Ruby reds,
sapphire blues, and bright golds, the vibrant colors hung at every angle, an
odd jumble of embroidered faces peering from the ceiling like a complex
painting. The effect was dazzling.
    Bryx yipped a greeting. The
mountain wolf lay sprawled beside a pallet heaped with