by Jay Kristoff
“‘Do you think he means it?’ the bishop asked.
“‘I think he does,’ I replied.
“The capitaine glanced around at the boys and greybeards he led, every one of them aquiver. Chewing his whalebone pipe, he blew a plume of grey smoke into the air.
“‘Then I think we’re fucked.’”
IX
THE BEAST OF VELLENE
“I LOOKED DOWN at the coldbloods, wondering if today might actually be my last, or the day it all began. I checked the bandolier across my chest, my phials of black ignis and silver caustic and holy water. Then I nodded to the smoke drifting from the burly man’s lips.
“‘Can I borrow your flintbox, Capitaine?’
“I struck the flame to my pipe as I descended the stairs, dragging dead-red smoke into my lungs. The bloodhymn was rushing by the time my boots touched mud, the thirst in me forgotten, my hangover nothing but a smoke-dream, the war-drum beat of my pulse, primal and screaming and wanting and needing, focused only on that thing waiting outside. I slipped my pipe away, laced my collar about my face, and nodded to the gateman.
“The timbers groaned, the wooden palisade opening wide. I stepped beyond the shelter of Dhahaeth’s walls, a bitter wind blowing my greatcoat about me, head lowered as the gate creaked shut behind.
“The Beast of Vellene looked at me through the falling sleet, black eyes narrowed as I tipped my tricorn.
“‘Fairdawning, Danton,’ I called. ‘Does your papa know you’re here?’
“The Dead lass stepped closer, black gaze roaming my boots, my greatcoat, up to my blood-red eyes. ‘Step aside, mortal.’
“‘Aside? You’re the one who demanded I come out, leech.’
“She sneered. ‘We come here not for you?’
“I blinked at that. Thoughts racing with the sanctus in my lungs. I’d supposed they were hunting me; that the Forever King had perhaps gathered some second thoughts, sent his son to finish the job he’d begun. But a glance into those flint-black eyes told me Danton hadn’t even recognized me yet.
“I was a dead man, after all.
“My mind returned to the taverne last night. The words Chloe had spoken: Some of the feet following us don’t belong to mortal men. And I recalled the good sister’s comrades, their fervor and flashing blades, the way they’d stepped in to protect …
“‘The boy,’ I realized. ‘Dior.’
“‘Bring him to us,’ the fledgling commanded, empty eyes on mine.
“‘I’d tell you to say please, little one. But he’s not even here.’
“‘Will you lie as sweet, I wonder, with your bleeding tongue in my palm?’
“‘I’d certainly talk a fucksight less than you do, chérie.’
“The fledgling glowered, black lips pressed thin. But Danton peered at me more carefully, then to the town behind. His long-dead eyes roamed the spiked palisade, the militia atop it. All was silent save for the moaning wind, and he, as still as stone.
“The Beast of Vellene they called him—the Forever King’s youngest son. He’d earned the name seventeen years back, when his father’s army crushed its first capital west of the Godsend. When Vellene’s gates came down, the Endless Legion slaughtered every man and woman therein. But Danton had a taste for young maidens. Infamous for it, he was. Rumor had it, he’d murdered every girl in the city under the age of sixteen with his own hands.
“I glanced to the coach behind Danton now. Saw those wretched lasses, completely in thrall of the one who’d massacred them. And Danton turned his black gaze to me, and spoke the way hammers fall.
“‘Tell us where the boy went.’
“I felt his mind pushing into mine. His will pressing against my own, all the power in his long and darkling years tingling on my skin and in my soul. The desire to obey, to please, was as undeniable as time itself. I wanted to relent. Abase myself before him. But my hate for this thing, for his famille and what they’d taken from me, for what he was and pretended to be, sang even louder. I blinked hard. And I shook my head.
“‘You didn’t honestly expect that to work on a silversaint, did you?’
“Danton brimmed with contempt as his eyes flickered over me. I mustn’t have looked much—haggard and muddy, eyes pouched in shadows.
“‘A black coat and a lungful of cur’s blood does not a silversaint make,’ he said.
“I drew the blade at my belt, the silver music of its voice in my head.
“I was … having the strangest d-dream …
“‘Time to wake up, Ash. We’ve work to do.’
“Oh?… Oh, ohhhh yesss yesyes …
“The wretched pulling the coach stirred. Their mouths slack, their fangs sharp. Danton’s pale lip curled. And with a blink, he released them from his hold.
“They dropped the crossguards and came on in a rolling flood, vicious and soulless and quick. There were almost as many as the day before, when I lost poor Justice and ran for my miserable life. But today, I wasn’t just a man unhorsed and a meal uneaten. Today, the sanctus was pounding in my veins and my swordarm was iron. And as Ashdrinker began humming an old broken nursery rhyme inside my head, I was running at them, their empty eyes filling with surprise as my blade began to dance.
“It’s a strange thing, to fight in the grip of the bloodhymn. Each moment feels a decade long, and yet, the whole world moves in a blood-red blur. I cut through those dozen coldbloods like a straight razor through silk, and in her wake, the air was filled with the ashes my blade was named for. Sweet release was the only gift I could give those poor girls, and so I did, to every one. And when I was done, I stood there in the muddy road, my coat, my skin, my blade, all slicked with gore and streaked with grey, and for a terrible moment, I wondered how on earth I could’ve left all this behind.
“‘Almighty God,’ I heard someone whisper on the walls above.
“‘Magnificent…’ the capitaine murmured.
“My senses were as sharp as the sword in my hand, my pulse athunder. I flicked a sluice of blood off Ashdrinker’s blade and into the cold mud at my boots. And brushing a speck of soot off my lapel, I looked the Beast of Vellene in the eye.
“‘What do you want with the boy, Danton?’
“The vampire gave no reply, his gaze flickering briefly to the carnage at my feet, the bloody sword in my hand. I searched those dark eyes, looking for a scrap, a crumb.
“‘I heard some nonsense about the Redeemer’s cup?’
“The female sneered. ‘You know nothing, mortal.’
“‘I know you made a mistake, leech, coming here with the sun still up.’
“I saw that blow land at least. A tiny flicker of it in Danton’s dusk-dark eyes as he threw a glance to the watercolor sky above. The Beast of Vellene was a child of the most powerful vampire under heaven. He’d obviously ridden up to these walls thinking he’d roll right through them and the peasants atop them. But instead, he’d found me.
“The fledgling’s eyes narrowed, fangs glinting. ‘Who are you?’
“‘You mustn’t be much, chérie,’ I sniffed, ‘if you don’t even know who I am.’
“Show them, G-Gabriel, came a silver whisper.
“I reached up, unlacing my collar so they could look upon my face. The female didn’t blink, but Danton surely did, recognition splintering the black ice of his eyes. He glanced again at the broken blade in my hand. The place on my coat where the sevenstar had once been stitched. The tip of his tongue pressed to the edge of one sharp canine.
“‘De León. Ye live.’
“‘Sadly.’
“‘How?’ he hissed.
“‘God didn’t want me. And the devil was afraid to open the door.’ I took one step forward, eyes narrowing. ‘You look frightened too, Danton.’
“‘I fear no man,’ he sneered. ‘I am a Prince of Forever.’
“I laughed at that. High as heaven was wide. ‘There’s no one more afraid to die than those who believe they’re undying. Your big sister taught me that.’
“Fury flashed in his eyes. ‘Ye meddle in affairs ye cannot possibly comprehend.’
“I shrugged. ‘Other people’s business was always my favorite kind.’
“They moved then. A stuttering flash of black cloth and marble skin. My wheellock was in my hand in a blink, tracking the female as she charged. She was swift, no doubt. But a pistol shot moves faster than a fledgling, hits ten times harder than any arrow. And with a fresh dose of sanctus in my veins, I wasn’t one to miss at that range.
“The silvershot struck her in the face, right in the tiny crack at her cheek where the arrow had already hit, sending her reeling backward with a bubbling shriek.
“Danton moved faster, and I was on my back foot in an instant. He came on like a cannon blast—older, stronger, just a blur of dead eyes and flashing teeth. His saber glinted like lightning in his hand. His strikes were a hurricane. A slash from his blade almost took the jaw off my face, blood running red and hot down my neck. His boot landed in my belly, and I felt my insides rupture as I flew thirty yards back into the freezing mud.
“All coldbloods are tough as nails. Like palebloods, they ignore wounds that would orphan most men’s children. But the flesh of the Voss bloodline can turn silver aside. Their eldest can even resist the kiss of flame. For all my taunts, this bastard was deadly, and I knew if I slipped just once, he’d slice my arse up like fresh spudloaf.
“I rolled back to my feet, wove aside from his blows, the bloodhymn ringing in my veins. Like I said, the batch I’d smoked wasn’t top-shelf. But just because you coldbloods can prance about in the day now, doesn’t mean you still aren’t ten times more fearsome in the dead of night. Feeble as it was, the dark sunlight made Danton weaker than if it had been pitch-black. And in the end, that was the edge I grabbed hold of.
“I reached to my bandolier, flinging a glass phial at the vampire’s face. It exploded with a flash, a cloud of black ignis and silver caustic bursting in the air. The silverbomb was barely enough to singe him, but some of the dust did reach his eyes, and Danton reeled backward, flailing. And hard as I could, I brought my blade down.
“Ashdrinker sheared the air, still humming off-key in my head as she took Danton’s sword arm off at the elbow. His flesh was iron, but in daylight, the blade was its match, all my hate and rage behind the blow. Danton’s severed hand exploded into ashes, years of denied decay turning in a heartbeat. He snarled, claws hissing past my chin as I smashed a phial of holy water into his face. His snarl became a scream, eyes wide with agony and running red with blood.
“‘Ye dare…’
“I reached for his throat then, desperate to clutch him. One handful would be all I needed. But my fingers caught only air. The Beast of Vellene stood forty feet away now, back in the tumbling sleet, clutching his severed arm. The stump was smoking, his saber lying in the mud. I reached inside my greatcoat, unslung my silvered chain and flail. Gasping and bleeding. Broken ribs stabbing with every breath.
“‘Not staying for the funeral?’ I wheezed.
“I took another step forward, but the vampire flashed twenty feet back in the blink of an eye. The Beast of Vellene had weighed the scales, and though he’d kicked the shite out of me, he still plainly found the balance wanting. The sun was up. The foe he faced was one he wasn’t prepared for. You don’t live for centuries by being impatient.
“Unlike me, Danton had time.
“I heard a cry behind me then, turning to see the fledgling dragging herself up from the bloody muck. A ragged black hole had been blasted through her face, her one good eye fixed on her maker. ‘Master?’
“I marched back across the mud to where she was trying to rise. She shrieked, voice ragged with agony and fear, eye still on her dark father.
“‘Master!’
“The fledgling turned to run, but my silver flail tangled up her legs, bringing her back down to the mud. As she tried to drag herself away with her hands, I drove Ashdrinker down through her back, pinning her to the freezing earth. She twisted to bite me, but my boot forced her face into the muck, and reaching to my swordbelt, I drew a sharp knife made of pure silversteel, the Angel of Retribution soaring on the hilt.
“‘No, w-what are you doing, what are y—’
“The monster screamed as I drove the blade into her back, began sawing at the ribs just below her left shoulderblade. Fledgling she might’ve been, but she was still a Voss, and it was more than thirsty work, the thing bucking beneath me, thrashing and wailing.
“‘Danton, help me!’
“Not a girl, Gabriel. Not a human. Just a m-m-mmmmmonsterliketherestofthem.
“My teeth were gritted, face spattered with ashes and rotten blood—no peerless swordsman, just a butcher now. And as I worked, silvered blade slicing through bone as hard as iron, I felt that old familiar thrill, that dark joy rising as I looked into this thing’s eyes and saw realization dawn—that after all the murder, all the nights of blood and beauty and bliss, here was where it all came to an end.
“No fear.
“‘Please,’ the monster begged as I drew out an empty phial. ‘P-please…’
“Only f-fury.
“I forced my fingers between the fledgling’s ribs. Her plea became a scream as my fist closed about her heart and tore it from its moorings. The organ began rotting as soon as it was free; stolen years rushing back with a vengeance. But I held it in my fist, squeezing a rush of luscious, dark blood into my phial before all turned to ashes. The vampire’s spine arched as the thief of time took hold, stealing back what was his. And in a moment, it was over—little more than a husk remaining inside that pretty dress it had been so fond of.
“I breathed deep. Grey and red. I looked down on the monster, the wreckage, the little girl at my feet. And then, up into the eyes of the one who’d murdered her.
“‘Did you tell her you loved her, Danton? Did you promise her forever?’
“The Beast of Vellene stared at me across the bloody ground. Holding his ruined arm, looking on the ruin I’d made of his children, eyes like burning coals in his skull.
“‘Thou shalt suffer for this, Silversaint. And it shall be legendary.’
“And with little more than a whisper, he vanished into the fog.”
X
RED SNOW
“THEY CAME DURING the d-day, Gabriel.
“‘I know,’ I said, marching back toward the Dhahaeth gate.
“E’en in a mud puddle like this, a Prince of Forever putting himself arisk under the n-noonday sun … desperate must he b-be to find this boy afore something else does. We must track them down. We m-mmmust know the truth of it, t-truth of it.
“‘I always find it so pleasing,’ I said, looking down at the blade, ‘when you insist on telling me shit I already know.’
“Ye should have listened to Chloe, Gabriel. Both then and now, n-now and then. Think of all we m-may have been spared, if thou hadst b—
“‘Shut up, Ash,’ I warned.
“The fault is mine as m-mmmmuch as—
“I slammed Ashdrinker back into my scabbard, silencing her voice as the gate opened wide. The militiamen waited beyond, the taverne lass, other townsfolk, all watching me with horror and awe. Du Lac came down from the battlements, and I glanced at the wheel around his neck, up into his eyes.
“‘Merci for the assistance, Your Grace.’
“Du Lac had the decency to look ashamed. ‘You seemed to have matters in hand…’
“‘Which way did they ride?’
“‘… Whom do you mean?’
“‘From the taverne last night, you powdered prig,’ I snarled. ‘The short woman with the big hair. The priest. The boy. Did they head north like they said?’
“‘I beg your pardon, but—’
“‘Oui, Chevalier,’ the taverne lass said. ‘They rode out north.’
“‘Merci, Mlle Nahia,’ I nodded, striding past. ‘I say again, your blood’s worth smoking.’ Glancing to the highwalk, I called to the militiamen. �
�I’ll be keeping your flintbox if all’s well with that, Capitaine.’
“The grizzled man nodded. ‘With my blessing, Chevalier. God go with you.’
“‘I’d rather he minded his own fucking business, if it’s all the same.’
“I made my way to the stables, haggled for a saddle, provisions, and harness to replace the ones I’d lost when poor Justice died. I probably left town a few royales lighter than I should’ve, but I was too fretful to harp on it.
“Broken and befuddled though she was, Ashdrinker had spoke true. Vampires were creatures who lived forever if they played their cards right. Ancien were seldom stupid and never reckless. I could scarce believe a creature as old as Danton had put himself at such risk. And if that boy Dior was so important that a son of the Forever King hunted him …
“I saddled up Jezebel and rode hard through Dhahaeth’s north gate. Chloe and her band had a good head start, and I’d have to ride swift to catch them. The gash Danton had given my face was slowly closing, but my broken ribs still ached with every breath. The dark sun threw a feeble light on the road ahead, autumn noon as bleak as winter sunset.
“I knew this used to be wheat country decades back—that these lands would once have swayed with stalks of gleaming gold. Now, the few farms that had managed to stay afloat grew the only things they could: potatoes and other roots, and great, rolling fields of mushrooms. Fungus sprouted everywhere. Luminous maryswort crusted the fence lines and rocks. Pale tendrils of asphyxia wrapped themselves around the long-dead trees, and thick growths of massive toadstools encroached into the muddy road.
“Rot. Swelling. Spreading.
“As we rode north, the sanctus began wearing off, my hangover catching up with the comedown and the pain of my beating kicking in. The farmlands receded, and Jez and I reached open road. The Ūmdir River was a silver serpent in the distance, and I could see thick deadwood through the gloom to the east, a hill crowned with a ruined watchtower. We passed a sign hammered into a lifeless elm, overrun with fungus.
