The Geomancer (8 page)

“Shut up, the both of you,” Gareth snarled, swinging his sword through the air barely inches from their noses. Then he knelt to retrieve his gloves which he had tossed aside when he was attacked.

Adele asked, “What did they say? I couldn't hear them.”

Gareth responded to her in his perfect Alexandrian Arabic, “He is concerned that you will kill them and then kill this Kasteel, whoever that is, if they bring us to him.”

“Oh. So the whole
Death Bringer
thing again?”

“Exactly.” He offered her a humorous nod. “They referred to you as the Empress of the End.”

“How nice that I have so many apocalyptic nicknames.” Adele again tried to ignore the distressing implications of those epithets. She wondered if the vampires would be so terrified if they knew Adele was likely incapable, and certainly unwilling, to wield such genocidal power any longer. “How do they even know who I am?”

“They know I made myself the last king of Britain through the power of my terrible consort, Adele of Equatoria. Since they saw you incinerate some of their brethren, it's simple to assume you are the terrible Adele.”

“Consort?” Adele raised an amused eyebrow. “You are
my
consort, not the other way around.”

“Please leave me with a little stature among my own kind, imaginary though it may be.” Gareth tapped the female vampire with the flat of his rapier to bring her attention from Adele, and asked in English, “What's your name?”

Her eyes were wide. “Nadzia.”

“Well, Nadzia, who is this Kasteel I should talk to?”

“He is our teacher. And a disciple of Prince Gareth. Of you.”

Adele stiffened in shock. “Your
disciple
?”

Gareth said to Adele, “I have no clue what she's talking about. Apparently Bruges has many mysteries. I look forward to visiting now.” Gareth laughed and ran a hand over Adele's cheek, and she leaned into it. The vampires gasped as if they were witnessing a revelation.

C
HAPTER 8

Gareth drifted on the wind with Nadzia and the others. He could see Adele's small form below, afoot, using her remarkable ability to mask herself from the attention of vampires. All vampires but him because of the event. Any humans would see her, of course, but likely care little.

Gareth wore dull clothes he had brought from Britain and sported a cloak with a hood to obscure his face as much as possible. He had removed his gloves again to avoid anything that might attract attention from vampires. If he was recognized as Gareth, he would likely be killed as a traitor to his own kind. The irony that he had to go masked in clan territory to hide his true identity, rather than to create the character of Greyfriar, was not lost on him.

The old city of Bruges nestled inside a circle of canals in the dim daylight. Corpses bobbed in the stagnant, slushy water. The ruined buildings were covered in rank winter ivy. Decaying spires and crumbling step gables oversaw filthy streets and alleys littered with dead bodies. Dark shapes floated in the sky above the medieval cityscape. Human figures moved about the streets, hunched and furtive, knowing they could be seized and killed at any moment. Gareth and his group gave a wide berth to the many vampires swarming around a great brick belfry before they settled onto a nearby square.

Nadzia started toward a building with a high step gabled front and many smashed windows. It looked like it had been a private mansion once. Gareth hissed at them to stop. They froze, mortified by his censure.

“We wait for her,” he ordered. “And stop staring at me.”

Nearly an hour passed and they were watching the figures floating overhead, noting those who came and returned. Finally Gareth straightened because from the far corner of the square, Adele strolled out of the shadows. She stopped to gain her bearings, then saw Gareth and the others. When she reached their side, she said, “Sorry it took so long.”

The five vampires jumped in alarm, suddenly hearing but not seeing Adele. Nadzia stared about in awe. The males backed away, growling deep in their throats.

“Easy,” Gareth murmured. “You'll attract attention to her.”

Adele's face glistened with a sheen of perspiration. Hiding in the ley lines was taking a toll on her. It never had before, not to this extreme at any rate. She looked up at the vampires clutching the rooftops and circling above. None had altered their course or attention. They hadn't seen her.

“Can we get inside?” she said. “I don't know how much longer I can stay hidden from sight.”

Nadzia nodded and led the way into the grey building, stepping over the shattered wreckage of a heavy door. They found themselves in a vast hallway. It was plain and unornamented, with columns and arches along the walls.

Several other vampires slouching inside looked up at the arrival. They were all young. They offered nods of greeting and stares of interest at the hooded Gareth. Not one of them had the stature or the fierce stare of a warrior. None of them spared a glance for Adele, so she was obviously invisible to them. Her teeth were clamped shut from the strain of staying concealed.

“They're no threat,” Gareth whispered, into empty air to everyone's view. “You should release your cloak.”

With a shuddering breath, Adele let the shimmer fall away. The vampires yelped with shock at a human woman suddenly appearing before them. One of them cried out and claws appeared.

“No!” Nadzia shouted. “Don't! You don't understand!” The vampire with claws out glared at her.

Adele grasped the pommel of her dagger, but Gareth touched her sleeve, urging her to stay her hand. He shoved back his hood and the other vampires stared at him without recognition. Gareth was a little disappointed that his dramatic gesture fell flat. He had grown embarrassingly amused by the expressions of veneration that his mere presence generated down by the coast.

“Nadzia, is that you?” came a voice from the shadows. “What happened? Did you find the Greyfriar?” A figure descended a wide staircase. The male vampire wore black trousers and a white shirt. His auburn hair was long and tangled. There was something strangely familiar in the shape of his youthful face, the curve of his chin. His blue eyes were like gemstones as they darted across the scene. He squinted with concern at Adele, but then he saw Gareth.

The young vampire froze.

After a long moment, he looked at Nadzia, who gave him a beautiful smile of confirmation. His feet slipped out from under him and he fell hard onto the bottom step as if his legs would no longer support him. He gaped at Gareth, but couldn't force his mouth to make sounds. He pushed himself forward, sprawling on the floor. He pressed his face against the stone and breathed, “Prince Gareth. My lord.”

All the vampires in the chamber scrambled to kneel. Fifteen dark shapes on the dusty floor. Adele stepped closer to Gareth, surveying the strange tableaux around them.

She asked, “Are you
sure
you don't know these people?”

The young male on the floor murmured, “We're not ready.”

“Ready for what?” Gareth asked, then barked, “Stand up! I don't want to speak to your backs.”

They all remained locked in place except Nadzia, who rose slowly and pulled the young male off his face. He resisted at first, but finally struggled begrudgingly to one knee.

Nadzia said, “This is Kasteel.”

The young male, Kasteel, looked angry or afraid, as if disturbed that his name had been spoken in Gareth's presence. He glanced quickly at the great lord to determine what insult had been done.

“Kasteel.” Gareth reached out. “I am Gareth of Scotland.”

Kasteel stared at the proffered hand without understanding.

Gareth realized that shaking a hand was a human trait he had absorbed. Vampires had no use for it. So instead he took the kneeling figure by the arm, eliciting a hiss of fear from the lad, and drew him to his feet. “You seem to know me, but I fear I don't know you. Do I?”

“No, my lord.”

“Why do you address me as
my lord?
Are you attached to Dmitri's clan?”

“No, my lord. I never had that honor.”

Gareth scowled. An
honor
that would likely have seen the lad dead along with all the other members of the British clan. “Then why—”

“I'm sorry, my lord,” Kasteel interrupted weakly. “I wanted to accomplish so much more before you judged us. How did you even know of us?” The vampire looked horrified and fell on his knees again. “I'm sorry, my lord. Forgive me! Of course you know. There is nothing you don't know.”

Adele gave a bemused grunt but remained otherwise still.

Gareth settled onto an embrasure shelf inside one of the arches. “Kasteel, stand up. Again. Explain yourself. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Kasteel took several steeling breaths and launched into what seemed a prepared speech. “We serve your goals. We believe, like you, that the days of the clans are at an end. They are bloated pathetic cadavers that have no use.” The young vampire clenched his hands into fists. “It is the only way forward for us. You have shown us the future.”

“Have I? How did I do that?”

Kasteel smiled as if being tested on a subject he knew very well. “You left the court in London. You abandoned your clan and their polluted ways. You lived alone in Scotland, treating your humans not as disposable herds but as reliable sources of nourishment.”

Gareth again regarded Adele. She was watching the fervent Kasteel with fascination.

Kasteel stood with mounting enthusiasm. “You saw the problem with our kind. And you acted.”

“I did?” Gareth sat forward. “What did I do?”

“You destroyed your clan.” Kasteel's eyes shone with messianic fervor. “You raised the Death Bringer and used her like claws to tear Cesare from the Earth.”

Gareth steadied himself against a sudden rush of anger. Somehow he managed to speak in an even tone. “You find that admirable, do you?”

“Not admirable but necessary. The clans must fall. We must return to the dark. As you teach.”

“I've never taught you anything,” Gareth spat. “Are you mad?”

Kasteel lowered his eyes at the rebuke. “We know of you through your works. We know something of your mind, granted only the glittering tip, from he who was at your side over the years.”

“Baudoin,” Adele breathed, staring at Kasteel. “He looks like Baudoin. He could be his son.”

Gareth saw it too now. That was the flash of recognition he'd experienced when he first saw the young vampire. Baudoin had come to Britain in service to Gareth's father, King Dmitri, and had become Gareth's servant. In the end, he had become less of a devoted manservant and more one of Gareth's most trusted and valued friends. His loss still cut deep. Baudoin had been slaughtered by Flay during his final act of saving Gareth. “Baudoin had no offspring. He raised Cesare and I as if we were his children.”

“Baudoin was not my father,” Kasteel said. “My father was the revered Baudoin's brother.”

“Conrad? You're Conrad's son? So you are from the Aachen clan, as Baudoin was?”

“I am.”

“Where's your father now?”

“He is dead. Killed last year fighting the Equatorians near Budapest.”

Despite himself, Gareth flinched. Both brothers had died the same year. He asked quietly, “So Baudoin talked about me to you?”

“He rarely spoke of anything but you. He spent most of his days up in Edinburgh at your side, but over the years we saw him a handful of times. Baudoin knew that most of our kind viewed you with scorn. Some believed you were mad, as your father had gone mad.”

Gareth shifted uncomfortably at the reference to his father, but he stayed quiet.

Kasteel dared a step closer. “Baudoin loved you like his own son and he defended you against any criticism. He admitted you were different, but he felt that was a trait of strength not frailty. You understood things that no other of our kind did.”

The memory of watching Baudoin die stung Gareth anew. He had a hard time imagining this ebullient praise from his stodgy old manservant, the one who quarreled with all Gareth did and derided his ridiculous Greyfriar fancies.

Kasteel looked worried that he wasn't explaining the doctrine properly. “We believe, as you do, that our kind have grown lazy and wasteful with walking skins full of blood at our fingertips. We must set the humans free and return to the hunt. There is no need to kill to feed. We should leave humans alive, because that grants us a constant meal.”

“That's philanthropic,” Adele muttered. “Speaking as a walking skin full of blood.”

Kasteel paused, fretful he had misinterpreted Gareth's life lessons. His companions were equally worried, looking among themselves for reassurance. “Those are the lessons of the old days.”

Gareth found Kasteel's innocent pleading bothersome. He rose and paced. “How would you know? All of you are too young to remember the times before the Great Killing.”

Kasteel swept his arm before the tense faces of his companions. “That's why we need you to help us.”

“And is this all of you?” Gareth asked.

“No,” Kasteel began hesitantly. “There are a few others, but most are . . . resistant to your teaching.”

“Shocking.” Gareth gazed about the room at the starry-eyed young crowd. “I'm surprised you've gotten this many.”

Adele looked over at him with a triumphant grin. “I told you that you weren't the only one.”

Gareth grunted with doubt and turned his attention back to Kasteel. “If you believe so strongly in the
old ways
, why do you all live here in this comfortable house? There are plenty of empty caves out in the woods if you wanted to go as your fathers went.”

Mortification swept across Kasteel's face and his head bowed. “I would certainly love to live in a cave or an old tomb like our forefathers once did, but it's hard enough getting this lot to even understand the danger of the clans, and the need to change our ways, without throwing in a life of constant damp.” His head lifted and his eyes met Gareth's directly. “And correct me if I'm wrong, but you live in a castle. My lord.”