Chapter I. Parting Gifts #2
“I’d bedded down in a broken watchtower; little more than a circlet of crumbling stone, a rotting wooden roof to keep off the snow.
I finished my after-dinner pipe of sanctus, the sacrament settling in my veins and calming the thirst within me.
And sitting by the flames, I laid Ashdrinker in my lap.
My eyes roamed the dame on the hilt, hair sculpted in long silver waves, arms outstretched on the crossbar.
And breathing deep, I slowly dragged my sword from her sheath.
“But in my head, all I heard was silence.
“‘… Ash?’ I whispered.
“Her blade was long and curved in Old Talhosti style, arcane glyphs gleaming down her length in the firelight, six inches snapped from her tip. I studied that silvered dame on the hilt, face frozen in her forever smile, angelic and serene.
“‘Ashdrinker?’
“U-U-U-UUUUUNHAND ME, V-V-V-VILLAIN!
“The voice in my mind was less a song and more a scream, crashing so sudden and loud that I almost dropped her. Both hands closing around the smooth leather of her haft, I winced and waited for the echoes to fall quiet in my skull.
“‘Sweet fucking Mothermaid, Ash, there’s no need to—’
“LOATHSOME WRETCH! F-F-F-FAITHLESS DOG! STAIN NOT M-M-MMY HILT WITH THY SINNER’S T-TOUCH, N-N-N-N-NOR MINE EARS WITH THY GODLESS AFFRONTERY! SHAME UPON THEE, POXLET, TO UTTER SUCH FOUL B-B-BLASPHEMIES!
“‘Thought you’d be used to it by now.’
“UNHAND M-M-ME, WHORESON!
“‘See here, Ash, I’m sorry, bu—’
“COXCOMB! CH-CHURL! B-B-BASEBORN BASTARD OF A B-B-BEDSWERVING—
“‘Look, stop fucking SCREAMING AT ME, WILL YOU?’
“Argent snorted, looking up from his feed as my roar rang on broken walls. My blade fell silent, the dame on its hilt smiling, yet somehow managing to glower all the same.
“I sighed then, dragging one hand down my face and hissing as my thumb brushed the wounds there. Squinting into the dark steel of Ash’s blade, I could see them dimly reflected—a pair of ragged gouges, torn by the bones of Dior’s poor mangled hand.
Days later, they were yet unhealed, cut deep beneath my right eye and trailing down my cheek.
They almost looked like tears, shed over the girl who’d gifted them to me. ”
“And still they endure.”
The silversaint looked up, Jean-Francois tapping his smooth cheek with his quill. Gabriel’s hand lifted reflexively, brushing the scars beneath his right eye.
“Palebloods heal all but the deadliest wounds, de León. Just as kith do. Very little leaves us marred. You did not think it strange the wounds Lachance gave you lingered?”
“Oui.” Gabriel shrugged. “But I’d seen her blood burn vampires to ashes before. I was half vampire too, after all. Honestly, I was too sick with her loss to fret on it much. Looking at my reflection in Ash’s blade that night, I figured I deserved a little pain.
“‘You’ve every right to be angry with me, Ashdrinker,’ I told her. ‘I know I failed you. Failed her. But since the day I first took you up, you’ve stayed faithful t—’
“Speak n-notnotnot of faith to me! Ye sully my hilt with th-th-thy thieving hands!
“‘… I’m no thief.’
“Mumblecrusted goatsnatcher, how came ye then to w-wieldw-wield me? Where b-be my righteous master? O, hapless fool, if harm ye hath bestowed him, the heavenly host itself shall avert their gaze from the hell I rain uponponponponthee!
“‘Ash, I’m your master. Your friend.’
“Fie, I say! Fie and t-t-treachery, to snatch me from those handshands into which was I entrusted! P-pig-swiving loitersack, thou art unununununworthy!
“My heart sank in my chest then, certainty dawning. Ever since the night she’d broken on the Forever King’s skin, Ashdrinker had never been quite the same.
Her mind drifted, her words stuttered, she sometimes lost sense of where or even when she was.
But never before had it reached the point where …
“Sully me no more with thy sty-sticky paws and return me to the hand of my m-m-master! I shall be NEEDED in battle to c-come! RETURN ME, I SAY!
“Her voice fell silent as I thrust her back into her scabbard, loosed my grip on her hilt. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone than I did at that moment. No matter my failings, the darkest hours of my life had been lightened by the weight of that blade in my hand.
“And now …
“Sweet Mothermaid, she didn’t even remember who I was.
“I wondered at the whys of it. At what had changed between us. But in past nights when Ash lost her sense of time, she’d ever found her way back to the present.
To me. Hoping her memories would return with the frail light of dawn, I set her aside with a kiss to her silver brow.
And curling up slow by the fire, I went in search of sleep. ”
Jean-Francois dipped his quill. “Rather foolish, no? Self-loathing aside? Trekking the wilds of Elidaen with none to watch your back was invitation for peril, oui?”
“Not like I’d much choice.” Gabriel shrugged. “But in my estimation, I was safe enough. Nikita’s campaign through Ossway had left nothing living in its wake, and I’d know if any Dead were coming long before they reached me.”
“How?”
Gabriel ran one fingertip over the silver designs atop his hands—a wreath of skulls on his right, a weave of roses on his left. The historian knew those tattoos covered most of the man’s body—at least, the parts Gabriel had been kind enough to show him.
“The aegis of the silversaint,” Jean-Francois murmured.
“The ink would burn in the presence of evil, bright enough to blind it. A boon no earthly armor could match.” Gabriel shrugged.
“And besides, Argent would serve as a beacon almost as bright as the silver on my skin. Beasts of earth and sky loathe your kind, vampire. Your scent, your very presence, puts them on edge. And so, content that I was safe enough, I drifted into slumber, hoping I’d not remember my dreams.”
Gabriel took a gulp of wine, scowling.
“But still, she haunted them. The bond between us writ red in my veins. Her blood twice drunk now, once at San Michon when she’d saved my life, again at Cairnhaem when she’d tried to take it.
I found Celene waiting for me beyond the wall of sleep; a figure in rippling crimson.
She stood before me on the walls of Dún Maergenn, Aléne Voss withering in her arms. And as she lifted her bloody mouth from that Forever Prince’s throat, my sister smiled with a naked jaw brimming with razor-sharp teeth.
“‘By thissss blood shall we have life eternal.’
“I woke at that hiss, reaching for my blade. But blinking about the cold gloom, I remembered where I was. The fire had died, the storm quiet outside, the scent of sulfur falling with the new snow. Peering through the window of my crumbling tower, I listened to the whispering wind, the creak of ancient stonework around me, and beneath it all, soft as baby’s breath, the faint crunch of frost beneath swiftly running feet.
“Argent snorted, stomping on the cold stone floor. I came fully awake, belly chilled with the knowledge I wasn’t alone. But though my steed was out of sorts, my aegis was yet unlit, so I was certain whatever approached through that dark was no vampire.”
The Last Silversaint chuckled, twirling his goblet between clever fingers.
“You can imagine my surprise when the fucker burst through the window and tried to take off my head.”