Chapter V. Into the Dawn
V
INTO THE DAWN
“AND SO WE come together.” The historian entwined pale fingers on the tome in his lap.
“Twin stars, weaving ever closer, colliding at last. You made it into Augustin via the pumpworks, de León, just as your pup á Craeg said you could. But not knowing where Lachance rested her pretty head, you stumbled into Princess á Maergenn instead. Your sister has already covered that end of the tale adequately.”
“I bet she fucking did.”
Celene only sneered. Dario stepped forth softly, placing a fresh bottle on the table before fading back into the shadows. But Jean-Francois looked only at his subject.
“I have one more inquiry, before we rejoin the dawn of Dior’s most joyous day.”
The Last Silversaint touched the gouges in his cheek, wincing. “And that is?”
“Where was your daughter while you infiltrated the empire’s heart? Where were your brothers de Coste and Sa-Ismael when you stole into Chateau Impérial? And most importantly, where was the Forever King and his legion endless?”
“More and much the same place.”
The Last Silversaint glanced to the bottle, lifted a brow in question.
“It’s blood, not wine,” Jean-Francois warned.
The silversaint’s brow only rose higher. The historian rolled his eyes and pushed a goblet toward him.
“Help yourself.”
Gabriel swept the bottle up, and as the vampire opened his mouth to protest, pressed it to his lips and drank straight from the neck.
The historian’s gaze drifted to the silversaint’s throat, hypnotized.
But as if in reminder, a stab of pain lanced through his nethers, and the vampire snatched the bottle from the silversaint’s hands.
“That’s quite enough, de León. Answer the bloody question.”
Gabriel’s eyes were yet closed, lashes trembling as the flood washed over him.
“They were together, Chastain. Brothers. Daughter. King.”
The silversaint licked his lips, opening an eye once grey, now flushed red.
“I’d proposed my gambit to Voss the night Lachie and Charlotte left.
But he’d taken much of the march south to reply.
His legion moved swift; endless columns of Dead flesh and cadres of thralled steel in Voss colors, spurred through the rising storm.
The Forever King’s court traveled with him, your niece and my sweet Patience among them.
Ettiene led the march, still obviously gagging to rip my head off my shoulders.
But Kestrel had departed, riding west with a small host of highbloods, bound for God knows where.
“That handful of nights seems like a dream now. The reprieve of a dead man on the way to the block. Despite the hand of fate and the teeth of time and the wall of death, my Patience and I were together again. And though the hours I spent with my daughter on that journey were the greatest gift I’d ever been granted, again, I’ll not speak of them.
Count the fucks I give for your Empress’s desires on no hands, Chastain. ”
Tears shone in that blood-red eye. The historian drummed his fingers on his tome.
“The Forever King obviously consented to your gambit in the end.”
The silversaint nodded. “My plan was basic enough. Steal into Augustin and convince Dior of the Esani’s treachery, or simply murder my sister and her mistress.
Letting me into the capital was a gamble, and Voss knew it.
But there are none who fear death more than those who live forever, and none who feared hell quite so much as the Forever King.
In the end, Fabién agreed to my wager. But he took collateral, in case I decided to start dealing from the bottom of the deck. ”
“Patience,” Jean-Francois murmured.
“And Baptiste.” Gabriel sighed, running bloody fingertips over the slowly healing splits in his lip.
“Aaron would’ve come with me if I’d asked.
But I was going in via the Béni. The water beneath her frozen surface.
There was no vampire on earth who’d survive that swim.
And so my brother stayed behind, safeguarding his love and mine.
“We stood together at the edge of dawn, as I prepared to ride for the river. Voss had camped only a day’s gallop from the walls of Augustin—the weather was so shite, and he’d murdered so many Elidaeni scouts by then, I doubted the Golden Host even knew he was there.
But still, I knew I’d need to ride hard, slinging my saddle onto brave Argent’s back as my boy stomped his hooves, breath steaming in the cold.
“Aaron looked southward, lips pressed thin. ‘I wish…’
“‘I know, Aaron. You just keep your wits about you and your eyes on the ones we love. I’ll take care of the rest.’
“‘If you fall … I will find a way, Gabriel. I shall save her, doubt it not.’
“‘Not for a second.’
“‘I got you something. For the road.’
“Frowning, I watched him fish inside his greatcoat. But I chuckled as he dragged it out—an old soldier’s hipflask, scribed with the lions and crossed swords of León.
“‘You shouldn’t have, brother.’ I smiled, unscrewing the lid for a sniff. ‘Vodka?’
“Aaron watched my smile die, understanding dawn in my eyes.
“‘Blood. Mine. You’ll need your strength for what’s ahead.’
“I sighed, the thirst uncoiling inside of me as I slipped that flask into my greatcoat.
“‘No fear,’ I whispered, embracing him tight.
“He nodded, squeezing me back. ‘Only fury.’
“A coldness crept over us; all too familiar by then, but no less dreadful for our acquaintance. Aaron and I broke apart, and turning, I beheld that monster, that murderer, that King of Forever, gazing on me with eyes like an unfilled grave. Baptiste stood at his left, breath boiling in his chill, Ettiene looming behind my brother like a mountain in dark plate. To Fabién’s right stood Morgane, wrapped in blood-red velvet.
And before her, the Prince’s cold hands resting upon her shoulders, I saw my angel, lips fresh rouged with blood.
Fabién stared across the tumbling snows, Argent shying for the terror of him.
“‘A moment afore ye leave us, old friend.’
“‘You’re leaving us, Papa?’
“Patience looked at me from the arc of Morgane’s arms, bloody tears in her eyes.
“‘Oh weep not, my sweet, my love, my angel dear. This be not good-bye, but only briefest farewell. Thy noble father hath matters to attend, but he shall return anon, doubt it not. Never ever would he leave thee.’
“‘Does Papa Fabién speak true, Papa?’
“‘Come here, love.’
“I knelt in the snow, and Patience ran to me, light as a doe, sobbing as she collided with my chest. I met Voss’s eyes, my heart seething as I squeezed tight.
“‘I’ll be back, baby. I promise.’
“‘I love you.’
“‘I love you. Never ever forget it, no matter what comes.’
“She pulled back from my embrace, meeting my eyes. ‘What’s coming, Papa?’
“‘A storm, baby. You stay close to Uncle Aaron and Uncle Baptiste until it passes. You mind what they tell you, oui? Be a good girl ’til I get back.’
“‘Oui, Papa.’
“I tried to say more, but my throat seized closed with grief, and no more words would come. Instead I pulled her back into my arms, breathing the scent of her hair, feeling her cool cheek against mine. This beauty I’d made.
All I had left of the bride I loved. The most precious jewel in my world, and I was leaving her, God Almighty… ”
The silversaint shook his head.
“If one drop less had hung in the balance, I could never have let her go. But I thought of my other daughter, then. The one I’d left in the clutches of devils.
“‘Two days and nights I grant thee.’
“Fabién’s voice cut through brief warmth, turned my heart to ice once more.
“‘No more and no less. If sun hath set ’pon me and mine a second time with no word from thee, not responsible shall I be for the hell following.’
“‘I understand.’
“‘Fail me not, old friend.’
“‘I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for every son and daughter, every babe unborn. And when next we see each other, Fabién, I swear God, you and I are going to have a long, hard talk. About what you did to Astrid. What you did to this world.’
“Voss only smiled, glancing to the barely brightening eastern skies. He made not a sound. But I knew it true now. No matter if all else he’d told us was lies. I could hear those words he’d spoken in the dining hall anew; an avalanche, crashing on all I’d known.
“That great work, undone by hands so feeble and few?
“Twenty-six years, we’d wondered. Twenty-six years of every pissant priest and pub philosopher and madman scrawling in shit posing their theory on the death of days.
Some said a star had fallen across the sea, and its fires raised a smoke so thick, it blackened the sun.
Some said there’d been another war in heaven, that God had thrown down the rebellious angels with such rancor the earth had been blasted skyward, hanging in a curtain between his kingdom and hell. But I knew the truth now.
“That great work, he’d called it. But what he meant, what he’d wanted to say…”
The Last Silversaint clenched his jaw, poison on his tongue.
“My great work.
“It had been him.
“Somehow. Some way.
“It had always been him.
“I remembered my vision then; that living dream I’d seen as I drank of Dior’s holy blood in León.
The serpent that had eaten the city of my mama’s birth.
That star shining over the Bay of Antoine.
Wolves south. Ravens, east. And north, across Kingsgrave Bay and the grim Zamesk Mountains, rising above Charbourg’s ruins …
that great hand. Its five fingers clawing upward from the earth, closing about the sun and tearing it from the sky.
“I met Fabién’s eyes, matching his smile.
“‘Soon.’
“And into the dawn, I rode.”