Steel and Stone Read Free Page B

true. There were no clouds, yet the mage had created a gentle shower, warmed by the heat of the smoldering, hissing castle. One of the generals, the self-important one, ordered troops to advance into the Meir’s castle. Kitiara’s troops, the general commanded, were to stand guard around the stricken building’s perimeter.
    The soldiers had no sooner marched between thesmoldering columns that once had flanked the main gate when a cry went up from the advance guard of Kitiara’s men. The cry passed from man to man and finally became audible. “We are attacked!”
    “What?”
the Valdane shrieked. His blue eyes bulged; he swept his sword back and forth more wildly. “Mage!”
    Kitiara drew her sword from its scabbard and ran a few paces downhill to join her troops, but the Valdane called her back. “Get the mage and meet me in my tent!” he ordered.
    “But my men …” Kitiara looked down at them. Already she could see them falling before hundreds of mounted nobles dressed in scarlet and royal blue, followed by swarms of peasants armed with hoes, axes, and plow blades mounted on staffs. Inefficient weapons, perhaps, but not in the hands of men and women defending their homes and lives.
    The smell of smoke and mud thick in her nostrils, Kitiara ran down the hill and approached the mage. Janusz sat upon a boulder, face ashen, eyes closed, hands lying limp on his lap, palms upward. “The Valdane wants to see you, mage,” Kitiara said.
    His eyes opened. Kitiara had to lean toward him to catch his words. “I … have nothing left,” Janusz whispered. “No strength.” He coughed and closed his eyes again.
    “We’ve been attacked by a large force of Meiri,” Kitiara insisted.
    “I know.”
    “Perhaps more fire—?”
    The mage cast her a withering look and shook his head contemptuously. Kitiara remembered, from her brother, the rules of magic; once used, a spell vanished from the spell-caster’s head until he could studyit again. Great magic took a great physical toll. Asking more of Janusz now could kill him.
    “But the Valdane—” she tried again.
    “I will come. Give me your arm.”
    Kitiara helped the mage up the hill into the Valdane’s tent and eased him onto a bench before the leader’s small desk. She retreated to a spot by the door, but she didn’t leave. One of the generals, streaked with blood, shoved her aside and entered the tent. “Valdane, we are losing!” he blurted.
    The Valdane stood, eyes snapping blue below his carrot-red hair. “How can that be?”
    “They outnumber us seven to one.”
    “But I hired you to defeat the Meiri!” The Valdane advanced upon the mercenary leader, his hand upon his sword hilt.
    The general looked desperate. “We must retreat. Perhaps we can gather in the mountains and regroup.…” He stepped backward.
    “No!”
Quickly the Valdane drew his short sword and thrust it into the general’s abdomen, jerking the weapon abruptly to one side to deepen the gash. The general collapsed, dead, in a puddle of his own blood.
    The Valdane leaned over and yanked the badge of office from the corpse. He handed the blood-daubed crest to Kitiara. “General Uth Matar,” the Valdane said soberly, “take command.”
    Kitiara swallowed. The mage, in the background, was smiling with ill-concealed contempt. She’d been named general of a losing army, answering to an insane leader who executed his defeated generals. No wonder Janusz was gleeful. Kitiara wouldn’t survive the day, and the mage’s purple jewels would remain his secret.
    The Valdane’s face showed that he thought he wasdoing Kitiara an honor. “Thank you, sir,” she said, barely keeping the irony out of her voice. She stepped over the corpse of her predecessor and resumed her position by the door. As soon as the Valdane’s attention was focused on the mage, she slipped through the flap and sped toward her own tent. On the way, she hurled the general’s crest into the mud.
    Kitiara slowed as she