The Skeleton King (The Silk & Steel Saga) Read Online Free PDF Page A

patrol?”
    “No!” The reply struck like a sword stroke. “My daughter is lost to me. She does
nothing but disobey. Perhaps Lionel would still be alive if she hadn’t meddled
in the affairs of men.” He shook his head like a wounded bear. “Katherine is a
fool and I’ll not risk good men chasing after her.” Turning, he strode towards
the door, his back as straight and stubborn as a sword. “Trouble me not with
daughters. I have a slain son to find.”
    The door slammed shut and the
marshal was left alone on the tower top. He stood at the foot of the charred
platform, the king’s words etched in his mind. Pieces of the puzzle fit
together but he felt like something was missing, some deeper understanding
lurking just beyond reach. Images of the carnage in the tunneled passageway
flooded his mind, a fierce battle, a few fighting against many. He studied the
charred remains, wondering what answers Sir Tyrone might have held. “Did you
die a hero…or a fool?”  
    His whispered words were snatched
by the wind.
    He stared at the melted chainmail
and the empty half-helm, but he found no answers, nothing but blackened ruin
and the silence of the grave.  
    A sudden gust howled out of the
north, sweeping away the ashes, leaving only ruined armor and charred bones.
    And then he saw it, revealed by the
wind, a long gleam of bright steel. Untouched by fire, Sir Tyrone’s sword
remained straight and true. Everything else was blackened, melted and twisted,
charred to ash, but not the sword…as if the gods gave answer to his question.
    “So, you died a hero.” Bowing low,
he honored the dead knight…and then he turned his gaze toward the north,
wondering if his king might be wrong. Surely the gods worked in strange ways. Katherine
was only a daughter, yet she carried the blood of kings, the blood of
Castlegard. Perhaps Ursus discarded his daughter too easily. Shaking his head
at the mad thought, he quelled the strange notion. Having faced the northern
hordes in battle he knew the girl rode to certain death, yet he whispered a
prayer anyway. “May Valin guard you though you trod the path of death.” The
marshal turned from the parapet, seeking his king.  

2
    Katherine

 
    Dark wings flashed into a
steel-gray sky, a murder of ravens taking flight, an ill omen for a god-cursed
land. The plume of wings rose from a point farther down the trail, harsh caws
echoing against the mountains. Kath assumed it was another horse, still
saddled, ridden to death, cast aside, broken. If the ravens held true, this
would be the second carcass since Cragnoth Keep, more proof of the Mordant’s
passing. The grisly remains marked a trail down the Dragon Spine
Mountains, taking the
five companions beyond the reach of the southern kingdoms…beyond the protection
of the Octagon. They rode into the unknown, death as their only guide.
    A cold wind blew out of the Spines,
a breath of winter pushing at their backs. Huddled beneath wool cloaks, they
kept their weapons close, riding single file down the steep mountain trail.
Kath led the way, holding her sorrel warhorse to a trot, a pair of throwing
axes strapped to her back, a short sword belted to her side. Duncan rode close behind, his longbow strung,
a quiver of arrows ready. Zith carried a quarterstaff, the preferred weapon of
the monks, while Blaine
rode at the rear, his great blue sword looming over his right shoulder. Danya
rode in the middle, the only companion who didn’t carry a weapon. Bryx, the
great mountain wolf, stayed close to the girl’s side, a vigilant threat of
claws and fangs.
    Twisted conifers crowded close to
the trail, a sweep of dark forest cloaking the foothills. An owl hooted
somewhere in the shadowy depths, a mournful sound that echoed Kath’s mood.
Swiveling in the saddle, she stared back at the jagged peaks, searching for a
glimpse of the signal fire, but Cragnoth Keep was lost to the clouds. A part of
Kath could not believe they’d crossed into the north. So