Chapter IV. Road of Graves #2
“We kept our approach slow and steady, but there were highbloods down in that meat train; ears and eyes sharp as knives. One soon spotted us—his great black steed rearing up as he cried warning. A pale princeling he was, with long red hair and a cruel scar across his cheeks. He was clad in black armor, wrought with a beautiful motif of grinning skulls. He pressed a horn to his lips, a bright peal splitting the skies as I roared the charge. And as we thundered down the slope, wretched unleashed in a flood toward us, Ash’s silver song began in my head.
A familiar song. A Nordish song from days before empire, a reminder that nothing and no one is lost so long as there are those who remember them.
“The Soldier’s Song.
“Once I had a brother,
“And we would play pretend,
“Of knights and blades and m-maidens fair,
“That we would fierce defend.
“A swarm of wretched seethed up the hillside toward us, and though he stumbled for fear of the Dead, my brave Argent still held true.
We crashed upon them, bodies flying, blood spraying, starsteel cutting Dead flesh like paper.
Valentino stripped off his greatcoat, the glow of his aegis spilling over the battlefield, lighting all in a familiar shade of silver.
But Aaron cursed, eyes narrowed as he set Epitaph loose among the Dead.
“I heard that highblood roar then. Snatching a glance, I saw folk in the meat train breaking from their line—desperately fleeing toward any chance at freedom.
“But war it called my b-brother,
“Though I did fierce forefend,
“That he should fight in d-distant lands,
“With homeward f-fields to tend.
“I wheeled about among the foulbloods, Ashdrinker’s ballad filling my mind, no thought but motion, no moment but this.
There’s a savage poetry to be found in battle, coldblood.
A music only those who’ve lived it will truly understand.
And to that song I danced, Ash in my hands, on my hands, the thirst inside me seething at the scent of fresh blood rising in the air with the sound of fearful screams.
“Turning, I saw that red-haired highblood was riding down the fleeing prisoners, thrashing them with a ten-tail whip, unwilling to let such a bounty of blood escape. Lachie and his boys were hacking their way through a pack of wretched, hip-deep in gore and burning silver light. To escape the blinding glow from Valentino’s ink, Aaron had broken from our sides, riding down another highblood—a slim femme in dark mail and a helm winged with raven’s plumes, who’d decided discretion was the better part of valor.
“And so, toward that redheaded bastard, I set my charge.
“But glory sought my b-brother,
“In soldier’s boots to wend,
“T’ward golden prize and m-maiden’s sighs,
“King’s favor to ascend.
“Argent made it almost to his mark, but the sosyas of San Michon were raised to fight around the Dead, and my noble tarreun was raised behind a pub in Redwatch.
I could feel him balking as that pale princeling drew his greatsword and turned to face us, and to spare my boy his terror, I crouched on his saddle and flung myself into the air.
“Like a spear I flew, roaring as I came. The highblood charged toward me, blade drawn back in both fists, ready to meet the oh-so-predictable arc of my leap. But midair, I reached to my bandolier, drawing out my wheellock and letting loose. Silvershot cracked, sparks flew, the vampire’s head whipped backward.
And swinging Ash with a roar, enchanted starsteel cleaving plate and Dead flesh, I took his hand off at the wrist.
“With a scream he crashed to earth, metal buckling and sod spraying, greatsword flying into the muck.
I landed smooth, only just now feeling it as I whirled to face him—a slick of blood, splashed thick and salty upon my face.
I looked the highblood over as he rose, his mouth rouged an almost obscene shade of red, eyes flooded just the same.
“He was fresh fed.
“The blood in him still warm.
“And eyes locked on his, I licked it from my lips.
“He must have seen the thing uncoiling behind my eyes then, his own narrowing.
I felt his mind pierce mine—no mere fledgling this one, but almost strong enough to be ancien.
He rummaged in my memories and flooded my thoughts with fear, but the hunger, God, the hunger in me proved stronger than any terror.
That red thirst, that madness rising like an eclipse upon my sun, blotting out all sense of who or what I was.
“I don’t remember precisely how I cut him down.
In the end, he must have tried to run, because when I finally fought my way back through that red mist, I was atop him, knee between his shoulders, fangs buried in his throat.
He was screaming—that trembling, soul-deep scream of the immortal looking down the barrel at his end.
I was horrified at myself, mouth dripping red, the taste of him warm and sweet and washing me through.
And I reared back then, appalled at what I’d done, become, Ashdrinker still singing that silver ballad as I raised her high over my shoulder and took off his head.
“And Death he took my brother,
“So far from home his end,
“The King has lost but one more m-man,
“But I have lost my friend.
“‘Gabriel.’
“I turned, finding Lachlan behind me. He was shirtless, silverclad, aegis burning beneath the spattering of gore and ashes across his skin. My hands and knees were blacked with mud, my chin and tongue hot-slicked with blood, and though I knew not how bad I looked, from the look in my brother’s eyes I could guess fair enough.
“‘Ye aright?’
“‘Still alive.’
“I spat, dragged my sleeve across my mouth, warm and sticky red. Looking back toward the meat train, I saw the coldbloods were all slain, the prisoners now gathered around my silvered brothers, clutching their greatcoats and hands as if to confirm that they were real. I saw in those people the bewildered joy of the condemned man, reprieved just as he steps onto the gallows. I heard them weeping, thanking God and Mothermaid, but more and most, praising those brave men who’d just risked all to save them.
And I smiled to know that despite it all, we’d done some good that day.
“I marched toward them, intent to find out where they’d come from, or if they’d any word of Fabién’s plan. But Lachlan grabbed my arm as I strode past.
“‘Are ye aright?’ he repeated.
“‘I told you I’m fine, Lachie.’
“‘I see it in ye, Gabe. Just as I saw in the forests of Fa’daena.’ He shook his head, heartbreak in his bloodshot eyes. ‘The thirst has ye. The sangirè.’
“Once I had a brother,
“And we would play pretend,
“Of knights and blades and—
“I slammed Ash into her scabbard, snarling.
“‘You think I don’t fucking know that, Lachlan? What would you have me do? Lie down here and bare my throat for your blade?’
“‘Fuck no! Godssakes, I’ve no wish to see ye die! Fight it, Gabriel!’
“‘I’m fighting it with all I have! The only way I can! We’re only a handful of nights from Voss’s throat, brother, and I’m no monster yet.’
“‘Well, I’m sorry to tell ye. Brother. But right now, ye don’t look much a man.’
“‘Blood washes off, Lachlan.’
“‘The hands, mebbe.’
“Those words were a slap, ringing in my skull, my fangs clenched tight. I saw Odette’s face again then.
That nameless soldierboy I’d found in the woods.
That beast, prowling behind the bars of my eyes.
I’d not long left, I knew it. But we were close now.
So close I could taste it over the murder in my mouth.
And I snatched my arm from Lachlan’s grip, stalking off through the mire as he called behind.
“‘What price victory, Gabe?’
“But toward my promise I marched.”