Chapter II. What We Were #2
“‘Perhaps not long enough.’ Valentino nodded to the ’saints beside him. ‘My brother Carlos you know. This is Frère Tolman. He doesn’t talk much, hence our fond friendship.’
“The second ’saint tipped his hat to Charlotte as he unbound his collar.
Carlos was the slightly-less-fair of the Beaufort twins, in that subtle way only twins can differ; his jaw a touch less square and cheeks a little less sharp.
Yet there’d be few in the empire who’d kick him out of bed for farting, and looking their companion over, I saw this third ’saint was as foul as the Beaufort brothers were fair.
“Lachie had named him Tolman the Scarred, and a glance told me why; the poor fucker was about the most battered specimen of humanity ever squeezed into a greatcoat.
Deep claw marks rent his face, brow to chin, and his left ear had been ripped away entirely.
He was also missing half his left hand—bitten off, from the look of things. By something big.
“He nodded greetings but didn’t speak, cold eyes fixed on Aaron.
“‘Merci for answering our call, brothers,’ I said. ‘Your blades are most welcome.’
“‘I confess, I’m still deciding where I’m honorbound to put mine.’ Valentino met Lachie’s stare. ‘It’s not often one sees silversaints in the company of the Dead, good Frère.’
“‘Aye.’ Lachlan threw a grudging glance to Aaron. ‘But this one helped slay Nikita the Blackheart. Most would say he’d earned a place here. Me among them.’
“Aaron smoothed back a golden lock from his cheek, lips pursed. And though he couldn’t long hold their stares for the light of their aegis, he met every one regardless. Carlos stared my old brother down a long moment before turning to me.
“‘Word around the campfire is you were the one behind the massacre at San Michon. Greyhand. De Séverin. Fincher and young Beau. All slain by your hand.’
“‘I’m sorry to say they were,’ I nodded. ‘But not without just cause, brother.’
“Valentino scowled. ‘We also hear you’ve a way to end Fabién Voss.’
“‘That I do.’
“Carlos glanced behind me, taking in the column of men in my wake. ‘It’s a nice army. And those crossbows do look a trick. But you’ve got, what, twenty thousand swords? They don’t call it the Endless Legion for nothing, Gabriel.’
“‘What number, the Voss forces?’ Charlotte asked.
“Valentino’s eyes slipped to my cousin. ‘We know not, exactly. But the Forever King has ravaged all of northern Elidaen these last few years. And though the cost for his victories has been dear, he replenishes his numbers with every battle he wins. Voss has struck San Yves. Truepont. Isabeau. San Maximille. And finally, Augustin.’
“‘Shit.’ I glanced to Aaron, my belly sinking. ‘He took the capital?’
“Valentino shrugged. ‘Almost. Struck midsummer, we hear. I suspect the generals of the Golden Host hoped the thaw might stop him, but some fell magik follows his legions; a chill that kept the Béni frozen longer than it should’ve been. They cut over the river at the Vise, hit Augustin north and south. But then … they pulled back.’
“‘Pulled back?’ Charlotte blinked. ‘Why?’
“Valentino nodded to the falcon on his shoulder. ‘I know only what Eirene sees, Mlle de León. It appears Voss suffered a great loss. The smoke from the pyres at the capital could be seen from the horizon. But the imperial forces didn’t pursue as he left. We’ve no knowing for sure if the legion was defeated, or merely retreated.
What’s certain is Voss retired to San Maximille to await autumn’s end. And there he abides still.’
“‘Then we have him,’ I whispered, heart running quick. ‘San Maximille.’
“‘Now hold,’ Carlos said. ‘Even if Voss was defeated at Augustin, this is still a fool’s errand. Striking at the heart of his power isn’t just a matter of dealing with him.
Morgane, Ettiene, and Kestrel are all with him.
That’s three of seven Princes of Forever, Mothermaid knows how many highbloods, plus Fabién himself. ’
“Valentino shook his head then. We’d fought and bled together, this man and I; more than a year in the Sūdhaemi campaigns. I’ve told you there’s a bond forged in that kind of hellfire, coldblood, and a touch of old camaraderie crept into his voice as he spoke.
“‘No man of woman born can slay the Forever King, Gabriel.’
“‘I’m no man, brother. And I’m not killing him alone.’
“I reached inside my shirt, drawing out a metal vial on a silver chain. It gleamed in the grim daysdeath light; the most precious jewel in all creation. Tolman’s piggy eyes narrowed, Carlos raised one black brow.
“‘What is that?’
“‘A weapon that can kill the unkillable. The Blood of the Holy Grail.’
“The twins stared at the vial as Tolman bowed his head, making the sign of the wheel.
My chest ached to hold it in my hand, warmed from the beat of my own heart; the final gift Dior ever gave me.
The very last drops I had left of her. Soon, this would be gone too, and all of her besides.
But if it meant the end of Fabién, it would be worth it.
“Wouldn’t it?
“Valentino glanced at his brother, then to Tolman in question. The man rubbed his mangled chin with his mangled hand, threw a suspicious glance at Aaron. But finally, he nodded assent. And turning to me, my old battlebrother nodded.
“‘Seems your errand just found three more fools.’
“I grinned at that, nudging Argent forward. Valentino did likesame with his shaggy sosya, and as we met in the middle of that muddy field, we clasped hands, that old hell-forged fellowship made whole once more.
“‘Good to have you with us, brothers.’
“‘Oui. Despite it all, I confess, it feels good to ride at the Black Lion’s side again.’ Valentino grinned, his charm now full unveiled. ‘We should celebrate. Like old times.’
“Carlos chuckled. ‘Where would we find the donkeys? Let alone the midgets?’
“I sighed, looking mournfully at my hipflask. ‘We don’t even have a drink.’
“‘In that matter, perhaps I might oblige.’
“I turned as my cousin spoke. Though her face was scarred, cold, some small twinkle of amusement lit her eye as she met mine.
“‘Though I fear there are few donkeys and no little folk among our company, you’re not the only one to bring a bottle or two from León, cousin. I was saving mine for a special occasion.’ Charlotte dipped her head to the ’saints in respect.
‘It seems three noble brothers of the Silver Order joining our number is occasion enough.’
“‘Sweet Mothermaid, Charlotte de León,’ I grinned. ‘Your blood is worth smoking.’
“Her brow rose, smile turning wry.
“‘I’d really rather you didn’t.’”