Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13) (17 page)

Yet at the tail end of his thirteen paternosters, he recalled a memory that had given him a different perspective on the Fae Lord. Keldwyn had arrived at a Council meeting fifteen minutes late one night. When Lyssa asked why he had been delayed, Keldwyn told her he was playing marbles with Kane, her young son. Most of the Council came to the conclusion he was being a wiseass, his way of saying his tardiness was no one’s business but his own. But when Uthe spoke to John, Kane’s older friend and second mark servant, John had confirmed it. The grandson of Elijah Ingram, Lyssa’s majordomo, John was well-spoken, polite and serious.

“Yes, my lord. He was sitting nearby, watching Kane and me play marbles. We were rolling them down a hill in the driveway, trying to catch them in a cup at the bottom. Well, a few cups. You got more points depending on which cup… I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t mean to wander off topic. Anyhow, he got up and asked Kane if he could play.” The young boy’s eyes had widened. “Can you imagine, someone like him asking us that? Kane said yes, thank heavens. I’m not sure what would have happened if he’d said no, but you know how he can be.”

Kane was a miniature version of his imperious mother. Uthe did indeed know what John meant, and amusedly wondered what Keldwyn would have done if Kane had told him he couldn’t play. Probably turned Kane into a rabbit, put him a shoebox to deliver him safely to Lyssa, and taken the marbles, all to teach him a lesson in manners.

“Anyhow, he knelt right there on the path with us and played for fifteen minutes. Even showed us a couple other games he knew with marbles. Then he thanked us for letting him join us. He said he had to go to a meeting, but that had been far more fun and he wasn’t sorry he’d be late.”

Insights like that had enlightened him about the Fae Lord. Sometimes Uthe believed he really did know what Keldwyn was thinking. Depending on what he supposed those thoughts were, they by turns made him uncomfortable, pleased or disturbed. Keldwyn was savvy enough to make a vampire think he knew what he thought, which should warn Uthe never to relax around him. Yet, Uthe could and did relax around him more often than expected. Like now.

As he reminded himself he was supposed to be finishing up his prayers, he was aware of Keldwyn behind him. He’d shifted closer, his calf pressed to Uthe’s hip, his body forming a shadow over him.

The first ray of the sun speared between the vee of two mountains. It touched Uthe’s face, his lips. Adrenaline surged, that quick spurt of panic, but the same way he did during his normal morning ritual, he quelled it. Unlike then, he had no intention of fleeing the sun’s touch. He had faith in the power behind the dagger. He kept his eyes closed, his head bowed, thanking the Lord for blessings and guidance, for His wisdom. Heat unfurled over his face and shoulders, warming him through the tunic.

Standing in the sun took him back to protection details with his Templar brethren. He recalled the sauntering movement of his powerful mount, Nexus, beneath him as they flanked a group of pilgrims along the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, the route to visit the river Jordan. Once they arrived at their destination, he’d let Nexus cavort in the lapping waters. It had been an infraction, but he’d stripped off his armor and ridden the horse barefoot, the water washing over his toes and legs, his knees pressed into Nexus’s wet sides. The sun had glittered off the spray when Nexus tossed his massive head from side to side.

The heat penetrated his clothes quickly, and the exposed areas of his skin reacted with less fondness than his memories. It would take time for it to adjust to something it hadn’t felt in a few centuries.

As he lifted his head, Keldwyn offered him a hand to his feet he didn’t need, but he took it, enjoying the palm to palm contact. When the male registered it and began to draw Uthe closer, Uthe balked, a warning to them both. “It’s best that we not act as we might…when alone. Those watching us are not friendly toward men who take pleasure with one another.”

Keldwyn had his hair tied back, giving the sharp bones of his face a more severe look. He wore clothing like Uthe did now, and he’d used what he called glamor magic to conceal his ears, make them appear human to anyone watching. He was as prepared as Uthe for most contingencies, always thinking several steps ahead, and annoyed with himself when he didn’t.

Which he demonstrated now with a frown. “We should have brought you sun screen, my lord.”

Uthe smiled. “Even if I burn, I will heal, Lord Keldwyn. But your concern is appreciated.” When he gestured in the direction they needed to go, Keldwyn fell into step with him. As they started to navigate the rocky terrain, Uthe calculated the number of steep inclines and steeper descents. The path to the sorceress’s cave reminded Uthe of an exposed rabbit warren.

“You were going to tell me the story of the dagger,” Keldwyn prompted. “Unless you feel you must keep that a secret.”

“No.” During their companionable silence on the plane, Uthe had thought it over, coming to the conclusion that certain things were going to have to be entrusted to someone, in case… Just in case. He’d accepted his reservations about Keldwyn were primarily rooted in a longstanding distrust of the Fae, not a distrust of the male himself. Keldwyn was clever and kept Uthe on his toes in Council meetings, ensuring vampire interests were not undermined by Fae ones, but representing Fae interests was Kel’s job. He had no doubt Keldwyn would share information about Uthe’s quest with Queen Rhoswen or King Tabor, but he didn’t think Keldwyn would sabotage his efforts. Perhaps that was evidence of declining judgment, but his gut feelings were not connected to his mind, so he trusted them more. It was better for Keldwyn to understand some of this; otherwise, his ignorance could prove more detrimental than what information he could feed to Fae royals.

Besides, telling him the story would get Uthe’s mind off the broiling sun. By the Virgin, he’d forgotten how hot it could be.

“I was born in Germany. The Holy Roman Empire, then. My father still referred to it as Germania. I left his care when I was close to fifty.”

“Fifty?” Keldwyn glanced at him. “Weren’t you still a fledgling? My understanding was born vampires are unable to control their bloodlust without guidance until they are well over fifty.”

Uthe nodded. “I was also a target for other vampires who can be cruel to a born male fledgling. God blessed me with a cunning that helped me navigate those dangers, and a maturity to contain the bloodlust better than most vampires at the same age. Despite that, without an ally, I still might have been ended before I began. I met Rail in France. He was an old vampire, though I didn’t know then how old. He let me stay in his home and asked nothing of me except my companionship. He treated me as a son and taught me how to protect myself.”

Uthe paused. “He was different from any vampire I’ve known, then or since. You can detect the potential for bloodlust in any of us, even at our calmest. Not him. His peacefulness was like a lake, always. When we went out to find blood, he’d use compulsion to bring a human to him, share that human with me and then release the human after clearing his or her mind of the event. Throughout all of it, he’d show no urgency. He ate as a human breathes—naturally, without thought, without struggle.”

Uthe placed his hand on the hilt of the dagger. “He had this in his possession. Since he always had it with him, I asked him about it.”

He closed his eyes, remembering the other vampire. Rail had deep brown skin, dark as the earth and burned darker, for he’d been a made vampire, a human who’d once known the baking heat of the sun. His piercing brown eyes were laced with crimson, his voice rough like the warning rumble of an old dog…

“
W
hy do
you carry that dagger everywhere? What’s so special about it?”

Rail didn’t answer the question right away, his attention on the wooden horse he was carving. His vampire speed made him a prolific woodworker. He was the source of bowls, utensils, toys and tools for the nearest small villages. He lived on their outskirts, in a small hut with a cool, dark cellar dug into the floor, where he and Uthe slept during the daylight hours.

“I’ve been thinking.” Rail ignored Uthe’s question, or so he thought. “You should give yourself your own name. I named myself Rail, because of how thin I am. We live so many years, it doesn’t much matter where we’re from or what we were called as a babe, does it?”

Uthe thought about that, liked the idea. “We’ve been everywhere,” Rail continued. “I’ve rarely met a vampire over five hundred who hasn’t seen a lot of the world, because you can’t stay one place too long with the same humans.”

“You haven’t thought of taking a servant?”

Rail shrugged. “I was born well before that started happening. I’m not even sure who did it first, who figured out the purpose of those marking serums hidden up behind our fangs. Maybe it’s just instinct that guided us the right way, like the first person who figured out we live on human blood. But if you weren’t born into that, and I wasn’t, it seems strange, saddling yourself with a human, with all their weaknesses.”

Uthe’s father had felt the same way. He’d only taken a human servant to breed. Once he’d found one that could give him a son, he’d seen no further purpose to her save for one final, fatal meal. Their unwillingness to have a fully marked servant was the only similarity Uthe saw between his father and Rail. Thankfully.

“I hear the three marks make the servants stronger and faster,” Rail said, “but we’re still way stronger and faster, and so much of our lives are about survival. Can you imagine us ever being able to settle in one place and not worry about being noticed?”

Turning over the horse and clamping it in a vise, he started working on the hooves. “But I’ll admit, our life can give a vampire male some low moments. Living on the edges of their world, seeing men settle in homes with wife and children, and them having a stable day-to-day routine. When the bloodlust and the need for violence comes upon us, as it always does, it might be a challenge to fit into that picture. But it’s tempting.”

Uthe took a seat at the table across from him. Rail was like that. First saying no to something, and then looking at it from different angles until he came to a wholly different conclusion.

“The ones of us that live like monsters, outside human law or vampire common sense, who see humans only as food and kill indiscriminately rather than just taking what they need—those vampires will get all of us hunted, you mark me.” When Rail said that, he sent a shrewd glance toward Uthe. Uthe realized his fists had clenched, a response to uncomfortable memories. He forced himself to release that tension as Rail continued.

“Maybe having a human bound to us for blood would give us the chance to live our life in a halfway settled way. That might be something. The birds and beasts, they know how to live in the moment and make the most of it, not thinking behind or forward, but it’s difficult for us vampires and humans to do that. We like to have a sense of marking a place as our own. Maybe having a servant’s a way to do that…”

Uthe wondered if the old vampire had forgotten his original question. Now he looked tired and sad. “Are you well, Rail?” he ventured.

“Yes, son. Sometimes I’m haunted by ghosts. You’ve got them too, young as you are. Sometimes you worry that none of it is going to make sense, that
you’re
not going to make sense. You feel despair, don’t you? As if your crimes are already too great, and a million years won’t make things better. Even if you live a million years, if we’re dust at the end of it and all’s forgotten, what did it really matter? What’s the point?”

Uthe didn’t reply, though he knew his hands had clenched again, and there was a sharp feeling in his gut, as if he’d swallowed a couple of knives whole and they’d cut their way down to his midsection.

“There was a time I felt that way. I’m nearly fifteen hundred years old.” He chuckled at Uthe’s shocked expression. “Yep. They say vampires that live past five hundred years are rare. Not sure if this has anything to do with it,” he patted the dagger, “because that’s about how old I was when it came into my hands. You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you?”

Uthe shook his head as Rail sat down in the opposite chair, drawing up one knee to clasp his arms around it. He balanced on one bony buttock. “I was traveling in Jerusalem. There was a good network of caves outside the city, and I’d holed up there for awhile. A man started coming out to that wild place. He’d pray a lot, then sit by himself, thinking. Though I kept myself hidden while I was watching him, and humans aren’t supposed to detect us when we don’t want to be seen, he knew I was there, every time.”

Rail nodded at Uthe’s surprised look. “But he never said a word to me. He had this feeling around him… Peaceful’s a way to describe it, but even that doesn’t quite catch it, because when we say peaceful, we think of it as a temporary thing, like being happy, sad, annoyed. Peace
was
him, who he was, through and through.”

Rail offered a grim smile. “I was a discontent bastard at that point, so I thought of drinking from him, to see if his blood was as peaceful. Like a tonic. The night I had that thought, he turned around, looked right at me. “Will you sit with me?” he said. “I know you often sit with me while I’m here, but I would like you to come closer.”

“I wondered if he was a sorcerer, something more than a man. But I came out of hiding and sat with him. First a few feet away and then on the rock next to him. I was like a wild dog, distrustful of a human offering his fire and meat to share. That night, he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t even start praying like he usually did. He just sat, studying the stars, the land around us, as if he was trying to memorize it. His eyes…they were brown as the deepest part of the earth, and you’d fall into them in a good way if you looked long enough. At last, he drew this dagger, cut his wrist and offered it to me.”

Rail’s expression grew distant. “You’re young, and you’ll think my mind is going, but when I tasted his blood, I tasted that peace. It was…there’s been nothing like it ever since. You’ve wondered that I don’t seem as ruled by my hunger as most, that I don’t get angry or let the bloodlust take me. Some of that’s age. You’re at the age where everything is about the hunger. That dies back a bit as time goes on. But part of it was having the best meal of my life and knowing that there will never be any better. Doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate what others have to offer, but you just…the hunger goes away.”