Book of Kinsey: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 2) (22 page)

Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed as he waved his hands, and a muscle in her jaw pulsed gently against her smooth skin. Her next words were uncharacteristically precise, meticulously spoken. “Ya speak without knowin’. Ya haven’t lived amongst us. Ya don’t understand—”

“You’re right. I don’t understand,” Kinsey interrupted, getting to his feet. “And frankly, I don’t care to. Blind faith has never sat well with me. I think that those who are lost to its futile practice should be questioned—their motives if not their sanity.” He walked away from her to retrieve some clothes, suddenly feeling foolish for not having any.

Something hard struck Kinsey in the back of the head as he pulled on his pants, and he turned in surprise. On the floor at his feet lay a smooth black stone approximately an inch and half long and shaped in an almost perfect, flat oval. The stone rocked gently on its posterior surface as it settled to a stop. He looked, stunned, at Jocelyn. The stone was of some value to her, he knew. She kept it with her always, and he had seen her massage its polished surface on numerous occasions whenever Sargon explained about the faith of the dwarven people and the role that Dagda played in their everyday lives.

“So ya think we’ve got nefarious motives, is it?” Jocelyn stood steaming not ten feet from him. “Ya don’t ‘understand’ our way, so ya assume we all mean ya harm. How shortsighted that be!” She threw up her hands, exasperated, then pointed at the stone. “That be what ya do ta our faith when ya make comments like ya do.” The stone seemed to glow resentfully in the light of the chamber. “Ya throw it ta the ground like so much trash.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he fired back, his anger seething. She was angry with him? Wasn’t he the one that had to give up his home and the people he loved to come here? “Not all the dwarves, just some. The others are but ignorant children, unseeing and uncaring of what may result from their blind obedience.” Kinsey knew the words were a mistake once they had left his lips.

Jocelyn’s eyes went dead and all expression fell from her face. “Ya spit on the people who would accept, no,
praise
ya fer what ya are. Ya think them humans woulda done the same?” Not waiting for his reply, she strode to the portal that would grant her egress.

Kinsey massaged the swelling lump on the back of his head and gritted his teeth against the blossoming headache. He knew she was right. He was certain the humans would not have treated him with such kindness. In fact, just recently they had locked him up for an accusation that held no truth and with no evidence of his guilt. The anger had him now, though, and he just stared at her retreating back sullenly.

Jocelyn hesitated in front of the archway. “Ya know what truly be futile, ma prince? Self-pity.”

Then she was gone.

Kinsey shook his head to clear away the reverie and came back to the present. Jocelyn had been not exactly aloof since that day but also not approachable.
I’ve been such a fool, but then that’s not news,
Kinsey thought, annoyed.

Jocelyn was approaching the boxes with a gleam in her eyes as anticipatory as that of any of her male companions. Her lustrous blond hair had been pulled into a loose braid, and she flipped it back over one shoulder as she stooped to snatch up a pry bar. Her outfit was a form-fitting, sleeveless linen tunic and pants that served the dual purpose of lounging and lining for the leather padding of the heavy armor she would wear. The cloth closely sheathed her muscular body without clinging, both hiding and revealing her strong yet feminine form. Kinsey had never met a woman of such contrasts. The muscles of Jocelyn’s bare arms rippled as she applied the heavy tool to one of the boxes. A grinding squeal filled the chamber, drawing complaints from the nearby dwarves before they rushed forward to pull out the contents of the crate. Armor of all shapes and sizes came out of the box.

The dwarves that had been his constant companions for all these months had almost never worn less than chain mail hauberks and leather jerkins in all the time he had known them. The one time he had seen Gideon in ceremonial garb rather than his fighting leathers, the dwarf had looked as uncomfortable as a duck wearing fur rather than feathers. The armor that came from the box was obviously meant for more than traveling around the country. This armor was meant for war.

The first clang of a greave upon the stones of the temple floor changed the mood of the entire room. Always a ready and good-natured lot, the dwarves shifted from easy camaraderie to a businesslike intensity. The smiles and boasting were still present, but there was an edge that said that the matter at hand was deadly serious.

Neal waved excitedly to Kinsey from the first opened box where Jocelyn stood, pry bar still in hand. Her bronze eyes watched him as he approached, but today, she did not look away.

“Here ya are, ma prince,” Neal said, pulling out a breastplate and holding it up against Kinsey’s torso. The gleaming metal plate stopped well short of his navel. “Er… perhaps not.” Neal tossed the metal back into the box and began searching for more. “I be certain, ma prince, that there be somethin’ here fer ya,” Neal said, voice muted by the box.

As Kinsey got close enough to see past Neal’s flailing legs and into the box, he could see that there were many pieces of armor carefully packed in dry straw and rough-spun cloth.

“Neal,” Jocelyn said, shaking her head. “There be nothin’ in that box worth its metal when Kinsey calls the Blessing upon himself.”

Neal’s legs, which had been dancing this way and that as he reached and probed for armor in the crate, froze in place and then slowly deflated to lie against the side of the crate like a pennant that had lost its stiffening breeze. Slowly the dwarf extracted himself from the box. “Ah, yeah,” Neal mumbled, looking abashedly at Kinsey and Jocelyn in turn. “I guess that be true.” Neal looked up at Kinsey, a plea obvious in his eyes. “Apologies, ma prince, I don’t know what ya can wear ta battle.”

“But I do,” said the king. Thorn came striding through the portal before the last echo of his statement had faded. Two dwarves wearing the gray-and-silver uniforms of those that served Thorn in his personal guard followed the king, bearing between them a chest of dark oak accented with bands of riveted steel. Carved runes inlaid with gold and silver covered almost every inch of the box’s wooden surface.

“Ma king!” said Neal, Jocelyn, and the others around the temple, bending to a one-knee salute that Kinsey had begun to see as the customary honorific amongst the dwarves.

“Rise, ma friends,” Thorn said, smiling with genuine affection. “Rise. This be an occasion o’ history. Tonight, we prepare fer war, but tomorrow, we march with the might o’ both the Dakayga and the Ursus.” Excited voices murmured at the proclamation that the great bears would join them. Thorn’s voice elevated with his own excitement. “Let our enemies tremble before us!”

Kinsey felt his stomach lurch. He was still apprehensive about his level of control over the beast. The prospect of releasing his full fury in combat while standing shoulder to shoulder with his allies turned that apprehension to dread. The others around him appeared to hold no such reservations.

Jocelyn and the others cheered King Thorn’s words, and enthusiastic hands pounded his back and shoulders. They believed wholeheartedly in their king and the promise of salvation their histories had made in regard to the Dakayga. The group had passed many of the nights they had been sequestered with him telling him about legends surrounding the birth of a child blessed by Dagda and the great conflict that it would herald. The dwarves had been waiting for centuries for that to come to pass and to follow the Dakayga into that conflict. Perhaps the coming trial would provide the faith Kinsey needed to believe as well. He hoped so.

The cheers died, and Jocelyn’s eyes found his. For the first time in days, she gifted him with a small smile. He found himself smiling back almost despite himself.

“Kinsey, ma boy,” Thorn’s voice boomed.

His thoughts interrupted, Kinsey turned his attention back to his grandfather.

“It be through the provenance of Dagda himself that I was not led ta scrap this,” Thorn continued, waving a hand to the ornate chest. “When Duhann be revealed as Dakayga, it be thought that war was imminent.” He laughed a little hollowly and shook his head. “How confused we became as the years passed and no battle came ta pass.”

The others surrounding the king nodded in solemn agreement.

“In anticipation o’ the war that never came, our finest craftsmen and priests forged this fer ’im,” Thorn said as he took a step back and seized the lid of the chest. He pulled the chest open with a great heave to reveal its mysterious contents.

What lay within was a suit of armor unlike anything Kinsey had ever seen. It didn’t look like it would protect anything. For long moments, he just stared.

Given the metal monstrosity that Gideon had half donned, Kinsey was expecting something more robust. The thing in the chest was almost the work of a jeweler rather than an armorsmith. A V-shaped medallion was positioned where a breastplate should be, while silvery metal strips with the character and density of lace formed webbing that connected to a similarly insubstantial gorget. The webbing continued from there to shoulder pauldrons that seemed to be less like armor and more like epaulets. More metal lacing draped each arm, attaching to lobstered couters, and then continued around the forearms to gauntlets with shining black metallic buckles at the wrists. More lobster plate was affixed to the wrist buckles and looked like it would cover the back of a hand. To this, five small oblong medallions were affixed with more of the silver and lacey metal, allowing for maximum flexibility of the fingers.

Jorin and Mansh did their best to smother their snickers but were unable to dampen the sound entirely. Horus flat-out laughed, while Neal scratched his head and frowned. The rest stood in baffled silence.

The king’s eyes darted back and forth, taking in the group’s reactions. His gaze finally settled on Kinsey. “Well... I know it don’t look like much now, but wait till ya try it on.”

“I don’t think I’ll be putting that on,” Kinsey said, still dazed.

At that point even Gideon began to chuckle as Horus, Jordin, and Mansh wheezed from uncontrollable laughter.

King Thorn shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Ya addle-brained fools. It be magical armor! Appearance got nothin’ ta do with its true potential!”

Despite the king’s statements, the group continued to snort and laugh until Thorn himself chuckled at the absurdity of the garment. Eventually the laughter faded, and the party of dwarves settled. An energy filled their curious eyes as they looked from their king to the dainty suit of armor.

Kinsey remained unmoving. “I’m sorry, Grandfather...I don’t understand how this is going to work.”

The king reached into the chest and pulled out the gauzy affair. “Put it on.” Though there was still a smile on his face, Thorn’s voice brooked no argument.

Kinsey was heartened to see that the lower-body armor was somewhat more substantial, particularly in the groin area. A belt made from a combination of the silver and black metals clasped together at the front with a large medallion bearing the runic character that Kinsey recognized as Thorn’s own. A pair of short pants, fashioned from a weave of both the silver and black metals, hung from the belt. The weave was as dense as any cloth toward the center, but as it progressed away from the groin, it became more ethereal, as it was above the belt. More medallions hung in place of cuisse, poleyns, and greaves while the webbing continued downward to cover the feet.

“At least,” Kinsey managed to say, “I don’t have to be completely naked this time.” He scratched at one ear, absently flicking a braid away.

Thorn continued to smile. His eyes crinkled with some amusement. “Just because ya don’t see wonders in the world that often, ma boy, don’t mean yer kinsman can’t work ’em upon occasion.”

“You are saying that this”—he gestured to the gleaming metal dress—“is going to cover the Dakayga as well?”

“Aye.” Thorn said eyes steady and face calm.

“I’ll help ya, ma prince,” Jocelyn said suddenly. She stepped up and took hold of the armor along with Thorn.

When Kinsey looked at her, she did not look away. Her oddly metallic bronze eyes were calm and serious. In them, he could see her steadfast strength and the same absolute faith that she had invoked days ago when showing him the path to harness the rage and make it serve his purposes. She nodded with the briefest motion. Somehow, he found himself galvanized and his other protests and misgivings dying away. “All right. Let’s see what this thing can do.”

Once again, Kinsey found himself stripped down to his smallclothes. Fortunately, he had become oddly accustomed to being nude in front of others in the past months of effort and training in the Ointa Dagdarhem.

The metal of the webbing had an oddly silken feel to it, but he still shuddered from the chill as the metal settled onto his bare skin. He was amazed to find that the suit slipped easily over his body as if made specifically for him. Kinsey knew for a fact that Duhann had been shorter than he was, but each of the buckles hit him exactly in the correct place.

When Jocelyn’s deft fingers buckled the last clasp at an ankle, the webbing began to move and expand.

“Ghah!” Kinsey danced uncomfortably as the suit moved like a thing alive, snuggling to fit each and every part of him. The strands of the webbing multiplied and expanded as his amazed companions looked on with murmurs of appreciation and exclamations of surprise. As each strand met another, they linked together, forming flexible ridges and scales. The individual medallions that had looked so delicate also morphed and flowed like quicksilver, adopting the correct proportions and shapes of more conventional armor, though no smithwork could match the organic flow of the gleaming steel that now encased him.