“She enters the Mist without a guide.”
A woman’s voice came from the right, “Without an amulet.”
A man’s voice came from the left, “Without the crystal dagger.”
From behind, “Her life is forfeit.”
Kath whirled, her sword held at the ready. “Who are you? Where are you? Show yourselves.” Shadowy figures swirled through the mist, vague and insubstantial, staying just beyond reach of her sword.
“Naught but a raw girl.”
“Untested.”
“Untried.”
“Untempered.”
“Unworthy.”
Whispers taunted Kath from every direction. She strained to see through the fog. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Not enough…not nearly enough.”
“And this time she comes without the dagger…”
“More proof she is not the one…”
Kath struggled to make sense of the phantoms. “Are you ghosts or illusions? At the very least you’re cowards, afraid to show yourselves.” As if in answer, a horrid smell speared the mist, so strong she almost gagged. Blood and offal, the rotten stench assailed her, the reek of a slaughterhouse…or a battlefield. Details solidified from the mist. She stood in the heart of a great killing field. Corpses stretched in every direction, not a breath of movement among them. Even the battle banners hung limp, as if Death was the sole victor. Kath tried to dispel the vision, but the stench gave proof to the dead. Perhaps if she touched a corpse then they’d all disappear in a swirl of white but a sixth sense told her to wait, to unravel the mystery set before her. She wandered among the slain, soaking up the details. Some were ancient beyond telling, bleached bones picked clean, their armor rusted, their cloaks rotted to dust, while others were fresh killed, their wounds bright as flowers. The oldest bore the emblem of the Star Knights, while all the fresh-dead carried the maroon octagon. Her breath caught, afraid to find familiar faces. Kath tightened her grip on her sword. “What is this? A vision of the past or the future?”
“Both.”
The single word sent a shock through her mind. Such a slaughter would decimate the Octagon Knights. “No, this cannot be.”
A sixth sense drew her forward, compelling her towards a rounded hill, a thicket of battle banners hanging limp at the top. Slain knights covered the hillside, thick as autumn leaves. Most bore multiple wounds. The fighting must have been fierce, yet where was the enemy? Kath picked a path amongst them. Her boot slipped on something slimy. Real or imagined, she refused to look. And then she reached the top. Gold gleamed amongst the fallen, a crowned helm upon his head. “No!” She rushed forward, a veil of tears in her eyes. King Ursus lay on his back, a great sword impaling his chest. “Father!” Grief dropped Kath to her knees. She stared at his face, refusing to believe. Always stern and sometimes forbidding, yet Kath worshipped her father as an invincible hero, tough as steel, as permanent and enduring as Castlegard. His loss was unimaginable. Shaking, she stretched a tentative hand towards his face, praying for him to disappear. Cold flesh met her fingertips. “No!” She tried to rouse him but death had already laid its claim. Stiff and cold, his eyes gaped open, his face frozen in disbelief. She howled her grief to the gods, “No, this cannot be!” Leaping to her feet, Kath raised her sword in defiance. “Take this back and I swear to serve you!”
Thunder clapped overhead and the mist returned like a suffocating tide. The battlefield was gone, wiped clean by the ocean of fog. White surrounded her, nothing but white. Kath glared at the malevolent mist. “Come forward! Show yourselves!”
Figures began to appear, shadowy forms taking shape just beyond reach. Some wore elaborate helms and breastplates, while others wore long, flowing robes, yet they all seemed insubstantial, specters condensing from the mist. Despite their ghostly raiment, their words jabbed her like spears. “What makes you think you’ll succeed when so many others have failed…failed…failed?”
Kath whirled to face them. “Is this a true vision? Will it happen? Why did you show me the king’s death?”
“The Octagon Knights have forgotten.”
A shiver raced down her spine. “What do you mean?”
“The oldest evil will not succumb to mere swords. Darkness is not so easily slayed. Yet you, a mere girl, think you can do better?” Their words struck from all directions. “Why did you come?”
“Why did you enter the Mist?”
“Your life is forfeit!”
Kath struggled to quell her fear. Parrying their words with logic, she fastened her mind on the reason she’d entered the Mist. “The Mist serves the monastery, so you must serve the Light. Help me, for I seek a murderer.”
“Murder is the least of his sins.”
The words punched through the mist with a surprising solidness. Kath turned towards the sound, a real voice, a man’s voice, laden with the surety of command. “Who are you? Where are you?”
The others faded away, bowing into the white. Beyond them, a figure emerged. A tall knight in silver armor burnished bright, and upon his head a winged helm emblazoned with stars. He strode towards her, drawing within a sword’s length. Seemingly real enough to touch, his face was graven with the deep lines of hard decisions, his black beard tinged with streaks of gray, his eyes full of wisdom. “A better question is when, child.”
Dignity rode his shoulders like a cloak. Kath felt as if she stood before one of the kings of legend. “My lord.” Bowing, she kept her gaze fixed upon him, lest he disappear.
“You’ve dared much to enter the Mist alone.”
“I chase a murderer. I ask your help.”
“Did you even think before daring the Mist?”
Kath felt her face blaze red but she refused to shirk his gaze.
“He bears an amulet while you do not.”
“He murdered my friends. I’ve sworn to slay him.”
“A worthy vow,” he stared at her, his eyes like chips of flint. “But do you know the truth of the one you chase?”
“Bryce, his name is Bryce.”
Disappointment flooded his gaze, “An answer as shallow as the shape of your face. In your heart you know better. Listen to your heart. Seek the truth within the lineage of your own blood. Put a name to the implacable foe, the oldest evil.”
The lineage of my blood...the kings of Castlegard…the answer stole her breath. “The Mordant!”
The king nodded. “The Mordant reborn.”
A vision of the battlefield assailed her mind. “My father! Castlegard must be warned.”
“Their fates are entangled.”
Urgency thrummed through her. “Then the Mordant must be stopped. We dare not waste a moment.”
“So you’d face a thousand-year-old evil, alone, with merely a sword? Are you so eager to join the dead?”
Kath forced herself to hold his gaze while swallowing her own fear. “Someone has to try.”
“In a thousand years, many have tried, yet none have succeeded.”
An image of Jordan and Sir Cardemir haunted her mind, their blood staining the monastery floor.
“It takes many to defeat the Dark. When one falls another rises to take up the burden, yet you come alone.”
Kath tightened her grip on her sword. “Lend me your aid. Perhaps together we can put a stop to this evil.”
His gaze pierced her soul. “Courage comes in the form of girl, yet you are nothing but unforged steel.”
“Let me try.”
“Stubbornness mixed with folly, have you learned nothing? You come armed with only steel. Even if you somehow succeed you will utterly fail. To kill the Mordant with cold steel is to plunge the kingdoms of Erdhe into an even worse future. Kill him now and he will merely assume a different shape, a different time. Only the crystal dagger can truly slay a harlequin.”
She’d left the dagger behind, unaccustomed to carrying it. Despair crushed her shoulders. “Then you won’t help? You’ll let the evil escape?”
“I did not sa
y that. I’ve done what I can. The burden to defeat the Dark falls on the living.” He gave her a piercing stare. “The straight path has bought time but never success. Seek to do the unexpected, for therein lies the greatest chance.” The king began to fade. “Many have sacrificed all to fight the Dark. How much will you risk? How much will you dare?” With a swirl of white, he disappeared into the Mist.
“No, wait!” She sprinted forward but he was gone. The others were gone as well, leaving her alone in the white. Suddenly cold, Kath stared at the mist, so quiet, so eerie, so…empty. They’d abandoned her and she’d lost all sense of direction. “Come back!” but there was no reply. The damp white pressed close, so thick she could barely see the ground. Kath gripped her sword and edged forward, fearful of plummeting from a cliff. Anger thrummed through her, but then she realized the mist was a trial, requiring wariness and an iron resolve. “By Valin, I will not fail.” Blinded by the white, she shuffled forward, plagued by her own imagination. Sweat beaded her brow, what if she walked towards a chasm? A hundred paces of uncertainty, a hundred chances to die, but her resolve never wavered. With a single step she escaped the mist, emerging into the dawn’s first light. The world returned in a rush of light and sound and smells. Kath breathed deep the fresh, clean mountain air, but it did nothing to lighten her burden, the weight of destiny riding her shoulders. She stared towards the hilltop. Like an all-knowing beast, the monastery crouched upon the rocky outcrop, the golden eyes of the great gate peering down at her. Monks stationed by the gate gave a shout but Kath was beyond caring. She staggered to a halt, weariness dropping her to her knees.
Everything had changed. Prophecies rushed to be born and the world seemed to know it. The signs were writ large across the sky. A terrible gash scarred the heavens, a red comet, the mark of the Mordant, and in the east a bloody sun staggered aloft. Kath shivered at the sight, a red dawn, a bloody dawn, an omen of death and war. Bathed in the bloody light, Kath felt like a pawn loosed upon a chessboard she barely understood, yet she’d sworn to make a difference. Gripping her sword, Kath stared at the heavens, praying for the strength to prevail.
Appendix
CASTLEGARD
Three hundred years after the War of Wizards decimated the kingdoms of Erdhe, a group of knights banded together to protect the southern kingdoms from the ravages of the north. They claimed Castlegard, the great mage-stone castle left empty after the War of Wizards, as the seat of their power. Adopting the shape of the great castle as their symbol, they became known as the Octagon Knights.
To bolster their cause, the knights were ceded land running along the length of the Dragon Spine Mountains. Stretching from Castlegard all the way to the Western Ocean, this land became known as the Domain. A series of castles, keeps, and walls were built along the Dragon Spines, allowing the knights to control the mountain passes and deny access to the southern kingdoms. The Domain also includes the only iron ore mine in all of Erdhe to yield blue ore, the rare ore required to forge the knights’ fabled blue steel swords.
As a sworn brotherhood of elite knights, the candidates forsake their lineage and their past when they win their maroon cloaks. Their symbol is a maroon octagon emblazoned on a silver shield.
KING URSUS ANVRIL, King of Castlegard and the Knights of the Octagon, Lord of the Domain, hero of the Battle of Raven Pass, bearer of a great blue sword named Honor’s Edge.
-his wife, QUEEN PHYLA, died giving birth to their only daughter-their children:
PRINCE ULRICH, First-born son of the king, a sworn knight of the maroon, commander of the wall at Raven Pass, bearer of a great blue sword named Mordbane
PRINCE GRIFFIN, Second-born son of the king, a sworn knight of the maroon, commander of Dymtower
PRINCE GODFREY, Third-born son of the king, a sworn knight of the maroon, commander of Shieldhold
PRINCE TRISTAN, Fourth-born son of the king, a sworn knight of the maroon, slain while leading a patrol into the steppes
PRINCE LIONEL, Fifth-born son of the king, a sworn knight of the maroon, commander of Cragnoth Keep
PRINCESS KATHERINE, Sixth child of the king, a girl of fifteen, also known as the Imp or Little Sister or Kath. As a female, the Octagon symbol of Castlegard is forbidden to her. Instead she uses the Anvril’s ancient heraldic symbol of a red hawk attacking with talons outstretched on a field of white.
-his sworn knights and retainers:
SIR OSBOURNE, The Knight Marshal of the Octagon, right hand of the King, a hero of Raven Pass, a one-eyed man, he wields a saber as his weapon of first choice.
SIR BLAINE, fresh-sworn knight of the maroon, bears a newly made great sword of blue steel
SIR TRASK, knight of the maroon, leader of a dissident faction, champion of the battleaxe
SIR TYRONE, knight of the maroon with skin the color of ebony, often referred to as the ‘black knight’, he wields a great sword
SIR LEWIS, knight of the maroon, follower of Sir Trask, he wields a saber
SIR RAYMOND, knight of the maroon, follower of Sir Trask, he wields a saber
SIR TELLOR, a knight-captain of the maroon, he wields a mace
SIR CLEMENT, knight of the maroon, Sergeant of Arms
SIR BREDON, knight of the maroon, sits on the council of candidates
SIR PENFORTH, knight of the maroon, he wields a battleaxe
SIR MALLORY, knight of the maroon, he wields a great sword
SIR GUILFORD, knight of the maroon, he wields a mace
SIR THORLIN, knight of the maroon, he wields a great sword
SIR BRENT, knight of the maroon, he wields a battleaxe
SIR BEARHART, knight of the maroon, he wields a morningstar
SIR KIRK, a fresh-made knight who takes his vows with Blaine, he wields a claymore
SIR JOHN, a fresh-made knight who takes his vows with Blaine, he wields a battleaxe
DEVLAN, a squire of the maroon assigned to the armory
ALAIN, a squire of the maroon
TODD, a squire of the maroon
OTTO, the Master Swordsmith of Castlegard’s forge, responsible for forging all blue steel weapons
CARL, a Master Smith of Castlegard’s forge
TEEG, an apprentice of the forge
QUINTUS, the Master Healer of Castlegard
NAVARRE
The youngest kingdom of Erdhe, Navarre was founded less than four hundred years ago by a daring adventurer, Alaric Navarre, who rescued the youngest daughter of the king of Coronth from a band of sea pirates infesting the Orcnoth Islands. Gaining the king’s confidence, and his daughter’s hand in marriage, Alaric earned a freehold of land running along the Western Ocean where he later established his kingdom. His domain includes the Orcnoth Islands.
While defeating the nest of pirates, Alaric discovered a long-forgotten focus. The magic of the focus renders the royal house very fecund, enabling the queens to bear six to ten children in a single pregnancy. After using the magic, both the king and the queen become sterile. The focus is the secret strength of the royal house of Navarre, the bedrock for the succession to the throne. Alaric abandoned the convention of primogeniture, declaring that all of the tuplets have an equal chance to the throne. He instituted the practice of Wayfaring, a type of fostering where the heirs develop their greatest interests, striving to become excellent at a skill, a knowledge, or a trade, so that they can bring this knowledge back to Navarre and thus enrich the kingdom. After the Wayfaring, the King, together with the royal council, chooses the successor to the throne based on the talents, skills, and temperament that best fit the needs of the kingdom at the time. Navarre is well known for its uncommonly wise rulers…but with every great boon there is also a cost, the hidden focus brings with it the Curse of the Vowels.
The symbol of Navarre is a white osprey soaring on a checkered field of red and blue. The seat of their power is Castle Seamount, perched on a rocky outcrop on the edge of the Western Ocean. Navarre has always had close ties to the sea.
KING IVOR NAVARRE, the
eighth ruler of the kingdom of Navarre
-his siblings:
PRINCE IRWIN, died of poison, believed to be a victim of the Curse of the Vowels
PRINCESS INGRID, fell from the rigging of a ship and died, believed to be a victim of the Curse of the Vowels
PRINCESS IRIS, accused of murdering her two siblings, exiled to the Orcnoth Islands she murdered her guards and fled
PRINCE ISADOR, Commander of the Army of Navarre, advisor to the king, nearly fell victim to the Curse of the Vowels
PRINCESS IGRAINE, Counselor to the king, court historian, tutor to the Royal Js
PRINCE IAN, Royal Bowyer, advisor to the king
PRINCESS IVY, Captain of a royal merchant vessel of Navarre
-his wife, QUEEN MEGAN, a princess of Tubor their children known as the Royal Js:
PRINCESS JEMMA, Wayfaring with the Queen of Lanverness to learn the way of multiply coins
PRINCE JUSTIN, Wayfaring in the Rose Court as a stopover on his way to Wyeth to apprentice with a master bard
PRINCESS JORDAN, Wayfaring with the Kiralynn monks to learn the art of war
PRINCE JARED, Wayfaring with the Octagon Knights to learn the way of the sword
PRINCESS JULIANA, Wayfaring with Navarre’s merchant fleet to learn the way of the sea
PRINCE JAMES, Wayfaring in Tubor to learn to become a master vintner
PRINCE JAYSON, Wayfaring in the Delta to learn the secrets of a new water wheel
The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1) Page 54