by Jay Kristoff
“I CURSED MYSELF a fool the entire ride. All seventeen days of it. Aaron one side of me, Baptiste the other. And like a shadow at our back, unexpected, perhaps unwanted, came Greyhand, followed by a cohort of Her Majesty’s soldiers in sunflower yellow tabards.
“They’d found us only a few hours after the battle, bloodied upon the eastern slopes with Chloe and other sisters who’d not made the ascent. Greyhand and our brother initiates arrived first, a breathless Kaveh leading them. Outriders of the Golden Host galloped out of the dawn soon afterward, Khalid and the other silversaints at their head. And they’d stood amazed as Astrid told them the tale—a tale of two dozen against ten thousand, sweeping the Endless Legion back down into Talhost beneath hundreds of thousands of tons of snow.
“The abbot and brother silversaints remained behind with the Golden Host to guard the crossing. The Endless Legion was not defeated, and all knew those corpses would dig themselves free of the frozen tomb we’d built. But as history tells, Fabién Voss didn’t press into Nordlund that year, instead, retreating back into Talhost to bide his time.
“He had forever, after all.
“But our victory was no comfort. And though I knew the Dead were foxes and serpents all, I had to ride back to Lorson to see. We stopped to rest only enough to spare the horses. I barely slept or ate, sick with the thought of what we might find, of ma famille, my home, and darkest among them, the thought that this was my fault. Laure had snatched the image of my village from my own head in Coste. I had led her there.”
Gabriel looked down at his open hands. And he sighed from the bottom of his soul.
“The ruins had stopped smoldering by the time we arrived. The scent rising on the horizon, and my sobs already trying to claw loose from my throat. I leapt into the fresh-fallen snow and tasted air like ashes, choking me as I roared into the emptiness.
“‘Mama? Celene! ’
“Only fat crows answered, staring at me with black and hungry eyes. The corpses lay where Laure had left them; a great multitude in the town square, thrown atop one another like broken dolls. I saw familiar faces among them, horror freezing my heart. Luc and Massey, my childhood friends. My sweet Ilsa, crumpled as if she were made of sticks and rags. The bodies of dead babies scattered like rose petals across the snow.
“‘Almighty God,’ Aaron breathed, making the sign of the wheel.
“Baptiste’s eyes were full of sorrow. Behind him, I saw the chapel’s walls were intact, stone blacked by flame. Looking up through my tears, I saw the roof was gone and realized at once what had happened—the godly folk of Lorson had fled to sanctified ground or barricaded themselves inside their homes, where an uninvited coldblood could not enter. And the Wraith in Red had set fire to their roofs, leaving them a simple choice: flee the inferno and into her waiting arms, or stay within and burn.
“I walked among the charred pews of God’s own house, searching the dead. My mind shied away from the horror that must have been their final moments. Mercifully, I recognized very few, their bodies ashen. But in the church’s heart, I saw a figure crouched before the altar’s wreckage. Burned almost beyond recognition. A priest.”
“Good Father Louis,” Jean-François murmured.
“Oui.”
“You prayed he’d die screaming, Chevalier.”
Gabriel glanced up, eyes grey as steel. “Oui.”
“And your famille?”
Gabriel exhaled, holding his breath with no air in his lungs. He seemed a smaller man, then, broad shoulders hunched under the weight of years and loss.
“I looked at Father Louis’s remains, there on the hallowed ground that hadn’t saved him. And my heart sank as I saw another figure, cradled in his arms as if to shield it from the flames. It was charred like firewood, charcoal skin stretched over kindling bones. But I could tell it had been a girl. A candlemaid.
“‘No,’ I whispered. ‘No, no…’
“My baby sister. My little hellion. My Celene. Her hair was black straw and dust, and her fingers burned to sticks. And I sank to my knees in her ashes and screamed so hard I felt my voice crack, reaching out to touch her cheek and watch the skin flake away in the cold winter wind. I’d never taken the time to answer her letters, I realized.
“And now I never would.
“I walked like a man to the gallows. I was aware of the men who’d come with me only as ghosts. I remember someone trying to bar my way, shoving them aside and spitting fury. And I stumbled through the ashes and snow until I found it. My stepfather’s house.
“They were in the yard. Of course they were. Once they saw the church burning with my sister inside, they’d never have remained locked behind closed doors. My stepfather lay with his old warsword a few inches from his hand. He’d seemed so huge to me when I was a boy. A giant, ever casting his shadow upon me. He’d never been the finest man, nor the finest father, and yet he’d stood as mine for his part. And the sight of him lying broken and bloodless just a few feet from the forge he’d given his life to …
“But it was nothing. Nothing compared to what came next. If the sight of my sister’s body had gutted me, the sight of my mama shattered me like glass. Her hand was outstretched toward the chapel. Her eyes frozen in her skull. And the look on her face was not one of fear or pain or anguish. It was rage. The rage of the lioness she’d been, trying to get back to her burning cub.
“I’d known fury the day Amélie came home, coldblood. I’d known hatred. But now I felt it wash over and through me like holy water. Like the fires of heaven sent. And I tell you now and tell you true, the boy I’d been died that day. Died as if he’d burned in that church with his sister. I was dismantled. I was unmade.
“The last son of Lorson.
“Greyhand sat with me as soldiers piled the bodies and put them to the torch. I watched the flames consume my mama’s dark curls, my stepfather’s hands, the smoke and sparks rising up into the daysdeath sky as Greyhand patted my shoulder, awkward, like a father who’d never had any desire to be one.
“His face was streaked with ashes, ravaged with scars, a strip of leather covering the hollow of his stolen eye. I stared up into the dark, the smoke of those pyres, wondering if this was all some nightmare from which I’d wake if only I prayed hard enough.
“‘I’m sorry, Greyhand,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry for what I let her take from you.’
“‘It is God’s will, de León. Who are we to know the mind of the Almighty?’
“I hung my head. ‘This is his will then? My baby sister burned like tinder? My mama butchered like cattle? How can it be so? How can he want this?’
“‘My mama died when I was a boy,’ he told me softly. ‘She was all the stars in my sky. I remember wondering, if I loved her more than life itself, how could I go on living with her gone? But that is what we do, Little Lion. We carry the greatest burdens not on our shoulders, but in our hearts. But those taken from us never truly die. They await us in the light of God’s love.’
“He leaned close and sought my eye.
“‘That is true immortality. Not the dark counterfeit to which our enemy lays claim. Eternity lies in the hearts of those who cherish us. Love them, Gabriel. And know they await your arrival at the throne of the Almighty. But not yet.’ He shook his head. ‘Not yet.’
“I looked at my old master, and through my tears, I saw the truth of his words. There is a time for grief, and a time for songs, and a time to recall with fondness all that has been and gone. But there is a time for killing too. There is a time for blood, and a time for rage, and a time to close your eyes and become the thing heaven wants you to be.
“‘I will love them.’ I licked the ashes on my lips. ‘And I will avenge them.’
“I heard silver-heeled boots scuffing snow and char. Looking up to find Aaron and Baptiste, side by side. Their faces were drawn with grief and horror, but they stood tall, together. Brothers I’d risked my life beside. Brothers I loved.
“‘Will you return with us to San Michon?’ I
asked.
“Baptiste looked to Greyhand. ‘Would we be welcome?’
“Our old master sighed. ‘The Testaments are clear, Sa-Ismael. The word of God is law. The sin is yours to own.’
“‘I felt him on that mountainside, Greyhand,’ Aaron said. ‘Bathed in his holy light. God stood with us, Baptiste and me, as we faced down a dark that seeks to consume all men. All men. And if your God would name my love a sin, then he’s no God I know.’
“‘Where will you go?’ I asked.
“‘South perhaps?’ Baptiste shrugged. ‘You could come with us, Little Lion.’
“‘No.’ I smiled, though my chest was aching. ‘I have monstrous things to slay.’
“‘You have a lion’s heart, mon ami.’ The big lad took my hand, pulled me into a fierce, tearstained hug. ‘See to it those monstrous things do not take it from you.’
“‘Hearts only bruise. They never break.’
“I patted Baptiste on the back, released my hold. And then I turned to Aaron. This stuck-up lordling prick I’d so despised, who I’d fought and bled with, who I’d once never dreamed of thinking of as a friend, let alone famille.
“‘Adieu, brother.’
“Aaron took my arm and led me away, and though Greyhand watched sidelong, he didn’t follow. When we were out of earshot by the horses, Aaron released his grip, meeting my eyes. ‘I pray God and Mothermaid watch over you, de León. But more, I pray you watch over yourself. And above all, watch Seraph Talon.’
“‘… Talon? Why?’
“‘The night the Empress arrived at San Michon. The night he … caught Baptiste and me. At the feast, I swear I felt someone in my head. A touch light as feathers, but still … I fear Talon didn’t discover us by accident as he said. I fear he wanted rid of me.’
“‘To what end?’
“‘I know not. But he is not to be trusted, Gabriel. Watch your back.’
“I swallowed thick. Nodded once.
“Aaron embraced me, and I hugged him back, gutted at the thought of one more loss. ‘I say you then farewell, brother,’ he told me. ‘But not good-bye. We will meet again.’
“I watched Aaron and Baptiste ride together, off into the dark and the cold, side by side. And I wondered if it was true, that our paths would cross once more. I asked myself if goodness could come of sin, and if so, what sin was at all. I asked myself if God loved us, how it was he could hate that we found love ourselves. How he could allow such suffering to go unanswered. How he could have deemed it wise to create a world that cradled horrors such as these.
“I asked myself, but I heard no answers.
“I wasn’t ready to listen yet.”
XVII
SWORD OF THE REALM
“ABBOT KHALID STOOD before the convocation, the Redeemer’s statue above, the faux Grail behind. All eyes were downturned as he spoke the gospel in his booming voice, but still, I found my gaze drifting from the altar to our honored guests. None could blame me, of course. San Michon Cathedral had never played host to such an entourage.
“Empress Isabella, First of Her Name, beloved bride of Alexandre III, Protector of God’s Holy Church, Sword of the Faith and Emperor of all Elidaen sat in the first row, a host of a hundred soldiers and maids-at-arms about her. Isabella was resplendent in royal yellow, her brow graced with diamonds, eyes glittering like sapphires as she watched the mass. The honor being done to me by her presence was lost on no one.
“My heart was thudding in my chest, palms damp with sweat. And at gospel’s end, when the notes of the choir had dimmed like sunset light, the abbot turned his eyes to the gables high above, the heaven beyond.
“‘Almighty Father, Mothermaid and Martyrs, hear my prayer. Through trials of Blood and Hunt and Blade, there stands one faithful servant among us deemed worthy to be sainted silver. Hear him now and judge him true in this, his pledge.’
“I felt all in the Cathedral watching as I stood. But I stole a glance at the choir loft and saw the only one who mattered. The distance between us seemed impassable. But still, I could feel Astrid beside me as I walked to the altar. My mouth dry. My belly, butterflies.
“‘Kneel, Initiate de León,’ Khalid commanded. ‘And speak your holy oath.’
“I’d worked myself bloody to carve my place here. I’d almost broken upon this wheel. The loss of ma famille and friends, the trials I’d faced—all had burned away anything of the boy I’d been. The sin of my birth, the knowledge that God would punish me for it, the dark truth of what I was—I accepted all as a price to be paid to protect the things I loved. And though I hadn’t realized it at the time, I knew every fall I’d taken and mistake I’d made along the way had led me here, to this moment. I’d looked into the eyes of forever and seen the depths of the evil we faced. I knew the dedication it would take to send it back to hell. And so, as the choir raised their voices in song, I made the sign of the wheel before the Redeemer who’d died for my salvation. And I sank to my knees.
“‘In the sight of God Almighty, creator of heaven and earth, of all that was and will ever be, I pledge my life to the Order of San Michon.
“‘I am the light in the night. I am hope for the hopeless. I am the fire that rages between this and all world’s ending. I shall know no famille, save these my brothers. I shall love no woman, save our Mother and Maid. I shall seek no respite, save in paradise at the right hand of my Heavenly Father.
“‘And in sight of God and his Seven Martyrs, I do here vow: Let the dark know my name and despair. So long as it burns, I am the flame. So long as it bleeds, I am the blade. So long as it sins, I am the saint.
“‘And I am silver.’
“‘Before Almighty God, the Mothermaid, the Seven Martyrs, and all the angels of the heavenly host, I name you Brother of the Hunt. You knelt as but an Initiate of the Faith.’ Khalid stepped back, cheeks twisted in his scarred smile. ‘Arise now—’
“‘Hold.’
“Stillness fell across the Cathedral, all eyes turning to Isabella. The Empress rose, and making the sign of the wheel, stepped to the altar before me.
“‘Blood spilled is blood owed,’ she said. ‘Valor proven must be valor repaid. There is no doubt in our eyes that the hand of heaven is upon you, Gabriel de León. All our empire stands in your debt. So our empire gives what reward it can.’
“Isabella drew her sword with a flourish.
“‘In sight of God and Mothermaid and Martyrs, we name you defender of our empire and keeper of our holy faith. We bid you be just to our subjects, and merciless to our enemies, and true in all measures under heaven. You are our sword. Our shield. Our hope. Arise, Gabriel de León, Silversaint of San Michon, and Chevalier of Elidaen.’
“A great roar went up among the congregation, and I felt my heart soar in my chest. Looking about, I saw their faces as they came to their feet: Theo and Fincher, de Séverin and the Philippes. Khalid’s smile. Talon’s grudging nod. Even Frère Greyhand’s thin, cruel lips seemed to be suffering a slight curvature, though I was certain he’d put it down to a trick of the light. The Empress stood, beaming like the long-lost sun, all her host applauding. And I stole another look up into the choir then, past Chloe Sauvage and Sister Esmeé, at last finding the one who mattered most. The only one who mattered at all.
“Astrid Rennier. Smiling at me.
“Though I could say nothing with all eyes upon me, I hoped she knew. And glancing to the Empress, I vowed I’d repay that girl for all she’d done.
“No matter what it cost me.
“We feasted in the refectory, a spread fit for royalty, though Isabella herself didn’t attend. The initiates who’d called me frailblood, who’d pissed in my boots and shit in my bed, all raised their tankards, and I put my grudges behind me, knowing these lads were better my brothers than my enemies. I was a sixteen-year-old boy. A hero. A sword of the fucking realm. There’s no glory so sweet as glory earned. And yet there was a weight on me that needed lifting. Words that needed speaking, yet unspoken.
“I stood slow, and a hush fell on that hall.
“‘To Prioress Charlotte,’ I said. ‘To Keeper Logan. To Michelle and Micah and Tally, to Robert and Demi and Nicolette and all those who marched there, but did not march back again. To Aaron de Coste and Baptiste Sa-Ismael.’ I raised my goblet and looked among the gathering. ‘To the courageous dead. And to brothers lost.’
“A shadow fell over the hall then. But Greyhand stood and called ‘Santé!,’ and soon all took up the shout. And we drank then, because we were alive and we were breathing, and even in darkest nights, that can be cause enough for triumph. The fare was fine, and the smiles were broad, and the peace I knew was complete. But after an hour or so, a hush fell over our number, and I turned to find four men in the Emperor’s livery behind me, a stout Sūdhaemi man with a craggy, battle-scarred face at the fore.
“‘Her Imperial Majesty demands your presence, Chevalier.’
“To hear that title truly brought it home to me—what I was now and what I’d done. We marched to the Great Library, and I saw maids-at-arms on the door. Walking inside, I found the entire hall lined with soldiers, wooden figures scattered on the great map at their feet. Abbot Khalid and Seraph Talon were already waiting, Forgemaster Argyle and my old master Greyhand too. But my attention was drawn to the woman at the end of the room.
“‘Well met, Chevalier,’ Empress Isabella smiled. ‘Our congratulations upon your ascension. We and our realm entire owe you a debt.’
“I dropped to my knee, bowed my head to stop it spinning. I wondered what my mama and Celene might have thought of me then, to see me knighted before the Empress. My chest ached at their loss. But I knew they’d be smiling upon me from heaven’s shore, Amélie beside them. That they’d have been proud of me.
“‘You honor me, Majesty.’
“‘We do. But it is honor earned.’ Isabella toyed with a silver ring on her finger. ‘De León. Lion in old Nordish. The goodly abbot informs us it was your mother’s name?’
“I looked down to the signet ring my mama had given me—those lions flanking those crossed blades. ‘If it please Your Majesty, I did not know the monster who was my father. And my mother…’ I sighed. ‘She never had the chance to tell me of him. But she told me the blood of lions flowed in my veins. To never forget it, no matter what else might come.’
