Mask of Dragons by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online Page B

harder…and colder. The earnest boy had been replaced by a cold-eyed young lord. 
    “He seems to work well with Lady Sigaldra, my lord,” said Timothy. “He promised to help her rescue Lady Liane, and intends to keep his word.”
    “Ah,” said Romaria, with something like satisfaction. Mazael wondered what that was about. 
    “Come, then,” said Mazael, swinging down from his saddle. “Let’s find them and plan our war.”
    The others dismounted, and Mazael led the way into the fortified camp. 
    Sigaldra and Adalar had kept the men busy. Everywhere Mazael looked, he saw men at work tending arms and armor, or stacking arrows, or caring for their horses. Many of them saw him as he went past, and offered hasty bows. Mazael greeted the men as he passed. Most of them had been with him in previous battles against the Malrags or the runedead, and he hoped they would survive the battles to come. 
    Adalar and Sigaldra awaited him at the center of the camp with Sir Wesson and Talchar One-Eye. Adalar wore his usual chain mail and surcoat adorned with the stylized heart sigil of House Greatheart, the hilt of his greatsword rising over his shoulder. Sigaldra stood next to him, wearing a leather jerkin and a chain mail hauberk over her green gown, her mass of blond hair pulled in a thick braid that hung to her hips. It made her face look more forbidding, her cheekbones sharper, her blue eyes enormous in her pale face. 
    She was a lovely young woman, and had Mazael been younger, stupider, and unmarried, he likely would have seduced her. The gods knew he had done it often enough before marrying Romaria. Yet there was a harsh, brittle edge to Sigaldra, a feverish light in her cold eyes. This was a dangerous young woman. She was going to do whatever it took to get her sister back, no matter what the price. 
    Sigaldra reminded Mazael a little of Molly when they had first met, when she had been desperate to kill him. 
    “Hrould,” said Sigaldra. “You came.” 
    “I said I would, didn’t I?” said Mazael. 
    Her mouth twitched a little at that. “The Jutai are accustomed to having promises broken.” 
    “And I’m not accustomed to breaking mine,” said Mazael. “Maybe we can meet in the middle. Judging from the heads on stakes, I assume the valgasts attacked the camp?” 
    “Several times,” said Sigaldra. “We had to fight them off, and then Lord Adalar laid a cunning trap for them.”
    Adalar shrugged. “I cannot take the credit. It was one of Lord Gerald’s ideas…”
    “Ah,” said Mazael. “I remember that one. The burning barn?” 
    “Pavilions, this time around,” said Adalar. 
    “Clever,” said Mazael.
    Adalar almost smiled. “I’m just glad it worked.”
    “It did,” said Sigaldra. “The valgasts have not attacked since. Then Timothy arrived with the headman Arnulf, and cast spells of warding around the camp. We have not seen the valgasts again, though we have caught some Skuldari scouts skulking in the hills.” 
    “You killed the ones you caught, I trust?” said Mazael.
    “Of course,” said Sigaldra with perfect coldness. There was not a lot of mercy in that woman. He understood that quite well. When Romaria had been poisoned, Mazael had brought utter ruin upon the head of the man responsible. 
    Sigaldra would do the same to the Prophetess if given the chance.
    “Come, then,” said Mazael. “Call together the lords, knights, and headmen who have arrived already. We have a maiden to rescue and a war to plan.” 
     
    ###
     
    Sigaldra followed Mazael as he strode to the center of the camp, gathering his vassals and headmen around him. 
    They followed him, she noted, like iron nails rolling after a lodestone.
    She felt it herself, did she not? Sigaldra did not think Mazael particularly handsome, not with his hard features and graying hair and eyes the color of sword blades. For that matter, she disliked trusting anyone outside of the Jutai nation. Yet Mazael had a dark sort of