Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13) (9 page)

Rage took the place of fury. A Templar was supposed to fight without bloodlust, taking no pleasure in the death of his enemies, all the will of God. He let go of all of that, and fought like the monster he knew he was, no thought or reason. He cut down foe after foe, until his sword was taken and he was fighting with his bare hands, unleashing his vampire strength to crack men like kindling, strike their heads from their bodies. As they became aware of the swathe of destruction he was creating around him, the Saracens started backing away from him. It wouldn’t matter. Gerard's ego had killed them all. Uthe wasn’t leaving this field alive. Eventually someone’s blade would take his head.

A cry amid the cacophony pulled him out of his blood haze. Jacques, his squire, was fighting like a tiger. He’d taught him how to use the sword he was using so ably now, back when the boy could hardly lift it. Tears ran down the squire’s face but Uthe doubted Jacques was even aware of them. Such things could happen in a fight, all emotions either shutting down or spinning into a tornado that fueled one’s sword hand and reflexes with a manic energy.

Another Saracen was coming up behind the squire fast, his blade flashing. Uthe drew the short dagger from his belt. He didn’t use it for fighting—that wasn’t its purpose. However, he couldn’t imagine a situation that called for it more than this one. As if God agreed and showed him His Will, a clear path opened up between him and the Saracen bearing down on Jacques. It was a good way to die, perhaps the only righteous kill he’d made today.

Uthe threw the dagger, straight and true.

It buried itself into the Saracen’s back, for the blade could penetrate any mail, any shield. Uthe had time for one spurt of grim satisfaction, then heat scorched him through his helm, his chain mail. His protection from the sun was gone, his body on fire. A scream of pain fought its way from his throat, but he turned it into a roar of defiance and tried to launch himself at another Saracen. He saw fear in the man’s eyes, but it was no use. He never reached him. The sun drove him to the ground, took his strength. All he knew was pain and darkness.

Until he woke.

He was in a tower of silver stone, for he could see the sky outside a slit window and sensed he was far from the ground. Coolness had a smell, as did peace and quiet, the trinity forming a healing aroma that restored the soul. He expected to see his limbs blackened, but his bare body was under white sheets, and unmarked. He was startled to see the dagger, cleaned and sheathed in its scarred leather scabbard, on a side table next to his bed. Those two pieces of furniture were the only things in the round chamber.

A male came into the room. Uthe stopped himself from reaching for the dagger, but the man’s power signature pressed into every corner, took up all the space. His dark hair lay loose on his shoulders, and his eyes, a peculiar mix of green irises and silver sclera, studied Uthe with an impassive expression. While his clothing wasn’t ornate, an embroidered tunic belted over leggings, the quality and the way he wore it told Uthe he was dealing with a person of authority.

A woman was with him, with pale hair, eyes and skin. Both of them were unnaturally beautiful, even more so than any vampire he knew. When the woman looked toward the male, he saw her pointed ears. Incredulity warred with other feelings. Fae. He was with the Fae. While they and vampires weren’t outright enemies, there was no love lost between them. They did not associate.

Uthe closed his eyes, uncertain if he was dreaming. He remembered the battle, seeing the carnage all too vividly. But he also remembered more now. A cloak being thrown over him that immediately cut the sun's piercing effect on his body. The battle had disappeared, as if he’d been born away in a swirl of magic. He remembered opening his eyes briefly to see this woman, a quizzical, distasteful look on her face. He’d heard her voice, quiet and muffled like the falling snow.
"Father, why are we helping a vampire..."

"What became of the battle?" Uthe rasped.

"Your battle was lost," the male Fae said. "Decisively. No surprise to you, I am sure."

"My brethren?"

"Some died in the battle. Those who didn’t, their heads were removed by Saladin’s orders. Your Grand Master allowed himself to be ransomed. He gave away Gaza in exchange for his life.”

The fury from the battle field echoed through him. Saladin depended on Egypt for supplies for his army. Gerard had put a high price on his worthless life, and a Templar wasn’t permitted to be ransomed. It was against the Rule. It didn't surprise him to hear that Gerard had refused to adhere to it, though it didn't make Uthe’s anger over it less sharp. He imagined the men he knew, Manfred, Leonard… all of them lined up, the sword coming down. Jacques...

"I am glad my brethren did not live to see that act of cowardice and shame. What of the squire I tried to save?"

"He made a good accounting of himself. He died with honor, without fear."

Hearing that shamed Uthe. It shamed him to be here. Shamed him to be alive. Shamed him to be glad to be alive.

As if the Fae could see it, he cocked his head. "They are not your people, vampire. You do not belong on the ground with their headless corpses."

"They were my brothers. Are my brothers. They watched my back, shared my beliefs and ideals. That’s family. Blood means nothing."

"An interesting thing to hear a vampire say, on many levels. I am Lord Reghan. You are in the Fae world.”

Uthe frowned. He knew little of the Fae but that they considered vampires crass and weak enemies. "Why did you save me?"

"That dagger provided you protection from the sun, gave you an advantage over your enemies. Yet you sacrificed yourself to save a friend, a comrade in arms. It intrigued me. That is all." The Fae nodded to the sheathed dagger. "Where did you get it? It does not seem to have any spell work attached to it, though it bears considerable power. Which means that its magic came from the original wielder."

"Yes. Another vampire gave it to me, before his death. It was given to him by the original wielder. Why did you not take it for yourself?"

In Uthe’s current condition, the Fae could still do that. It was possible he’d left the dagger near Uthe to taunt him. But the Fae didn’t look interested in playing such games. The woman with him was a different matter. She looked at him with a detachment devoid of empathy. If she had her way, Uthe expected he would even now be a pile of ash on the field. 

“The Fae already have enough power,” Reghan said. “And stolen power is a punishment waiting to happen. Which is how I knew you did not take the blade away from someone unwilling to relinquish it. That type of gift must be bestowed to retain its power. There are those in the human world, magic wielders, who know of you. They claim you were never supposed to be in that battle, that you are committed to a higher purpose.”

It was a secret that had been zealously guarded for decades now, since those first days with Hugh in the al-Asqa mosque. Uthe considered the Fae suspiciously. “That purpose is known to very few. Especially not to the current Grand Master. He ordered me into battle and I obeyed, because I would not leave my brethren to die alone.”

“Despite your higher purpose.”

“I prayed upon it. I believed it was God’s will that I be in that battle.”

“Perhaps that is true, because our paths have crossed, have they not?” Reghan studied him. “The sorceress wants you returned to your world, but not from where you left. You will be returned through the portal that puts you in France. She needs you to come to her at La Couvertoirade. She has home repairs that need doing. She says it will occupy you better than these endless foolish Crusades.”

He could hear the irascible old witch saying it. He wanted to protest, but Reghan’s implacable look said Uthe was not being offered a choice. Besides which, she was right, was she not? There was nothing left for him in the Holy Land now. The truest of the Templars had died at Hattin. They’d lost Jerusalem and they’d lost their way. Their Grand Master was despicably living proof of that. Hugh had made clear what Uthe’s primary charge was and always would be, until it was done. It was time to honor that fully.

Reghan was back to studying him with his penetrating green eyes. In certain lights, they were like jade.

“You have my thanks for my life,” Uthe said formally. “I am ready to leave whenever you wish.”

“It shall be done,” Reghan said. “Fare thee well, vampire. We will see one another again."

U
the came back
to the present. Mortified, he realized he was collapsed against the Queen's legs, his head in her lap. Fortunately, Keldwyn's hands were upon his shoulders, easing him back. 

"So did you see more than you did before?" Rhoswen asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I..." He needed to stand, back away, but had to accept Keldwyn's help for that. The Fae moved him efficiently to the bench again, but instead of moving away, he sat down next to Uthe, hip to hip, shoulder brushing his, a sturdy brace. "I cannot remember if I properly thanked you for my life, all those years ago," Uthe said to the Queen.

"It was my Father you thanked, quite properly. It was his doing.” Rhoswen shrugged. “I had no reason to save a vampire. He had been watching you for some time, finding you an interesting anomaly. My father had obvious interests in the vampire race that most of us Fae do not have."

While her voice was neutral, disinterested, Uthe felt a ping of danger from the casual words. The slight shift of Keldwyn's body next to him was a warning of the same. Since Lyssa's father had been executed for his association with Lyssa's mother, it didn't take a wealth of intuition to know it would be a sore spot for his Fae daughter, even now when the sisters had apparently reconciled. 

"So what is it you need, Lord Uthe?"

"I'm sorry? I thought you requested the audience, Your Majesty."

"I did. When you touched my hand the first time, at the edge of the forest, you said 'I need your permission to...' And then you fell silent."

Uthe ignored the reactive clutch in his lower gut. "I apologize, Your Majesty. I think I spoke while gripped by the first vision. It is not clear to me what I need your permission for, but as soon as I determine its nature, I will certainly attend to that.” Yes, he was sure the Fae Queen would grant him multiple audiences until he could flounder around and figure out what he needed from her. The coil of anxiety grew, refusing to be blocked. “With your permission now, I will leave your company to see to my lady—”

Rhoswen reached out, clamped a hand on his arm and slapped the other palm against his forehead, a shockingly familiar gesture. But Uthe didn't have a chance to draw back or mouth a protest. It was as if he’d been sucked straight down into a tunnel and was falling through it like an insane vertical amusement park ride. Had Keldwyn ever ridden a roller coaster? A Ferris wheel? Had Uthe? He should remember something like that, if he had.

Lyssa's father materialized before him, mostly translucent but clear enough Uthe saw him pointing to a shimmering wall of gray nothingness. "There, Templar. The Shattered World. It will be safe there until your sorceress has found her answer. That is all. You will not see me again. Just as in your own world, the fewer connections you have, the harder it will be for any other to trace the path you must follow when it is time.”

The Fae shimmered. Scarlet fabric wafted between the two of them, obscuring him from Uthe's vision. A spray of sand, and then the fabric broke into pieces, floating through the air. No longer cloth, they became petals. Rose petals. Uthe was staring at a rose bush in the desert. The red of the petals dissolved like blood, drying up into dust and blowing away.

Uthe turned and looked in the direction the Fae had been pointing, that massive grayness. He realized he was wearing his Templar mantle, his mail and armor, all his weapons. The short dagger was sure in his grip.

Yes. It was time. He knew where it was, and what he had to do. 

This time when he surfaced, he threw up Mariela's blood and the few things he'd sampled in the ballroom. Thank the Lord, Keldwyn roughly spun him around so he vomited into the hedge. If he'd splattered Rhoswen's dress with blood and tea cakes, he wasn't sure how he would have fixed that. That gauzy, moon glow fabric probably didn’t dry clean.

Keldwyn held him until he nodded shortly, indicating he was done. The Fae handed him a handkerchief from somewhere on his person so Uthe could wipe his mouth. When he looked over his shoulder, he was surprised to see the Queen still there. She didn’t seem out of sorts with him. She and Cayden were speaking in low tones, but she cut off the conversation when she saw Uthe was with them again.

"I have some ability to bend time backwards to recall memory,” she said. “Though it can have some unpleasant effects when done so quickly. I’ve been told I'm impatient."

Her gaze shifted to Keldwyn, who had that bland look once more. She narrowed her eyes at him, but the expression became neutral when she turned it back to Uthe.

“Your patience and tolerance overwhelms me, Your Majesty,” Uthe assured her. “You have my thanks for your assistance.”

“Perhaps you could work on teaching Lord Keldwyn manners.” Rhoswen tilted her head toward Keldwyn. “Your vampire friend is much better at talking to a Fae Queen.”

“He’s had limited exposure to you.”

“Your Majesty,” Uthe interjected as smoothly and swiftly as he could, to Cayden’s visible relief when Uthe drew the Queen’s attention back to him. “I know what I need your permission to do now. Are you aware of a place called the Shattered World?”

She was not quick enough to hide a startled look, but Keldwyn stiffened. "It is a place within our world,” the Fae Lord said. “But no one goes there. No one who wishes to survive or be heard from again."

"That is not relevant to my goal.” Uthe held the Queen’s ice blue gaze. “Your father put something there for me years ago for safe keeping, until the time came when I could address its ultimate destiny."

"What was it?"

Uthe had been at a disadvantage throughout this interchange, and this part wasn't going to help matters, but he knew anything less than honesty would be a grave error in judgment. "I am oath-bound not to reveal that to anyone until I have no other choice left, my lady. It is important to both our peoples that I do not. To the human world also. Throughout this quest, the less who have known about it, the better. I do not wish to abandon that wisdom now, particularly if it might repay Your Majesty with anything less than kindness for your forbearance."

She stared at him, long enough he felt the piercing pain of a stare made of ice. "I am aware of the warnings and constraints of magic and would not push them out of mere curiosity, Lord Uthe. What if I forbid you passage in my world? What will you do then?"

"Do what I can to change your mind." 

"And if I tell you I am done with this and will not speak of it again, on pain of death to the one who dares to defy me?"

"My death is God's will, my lady. I must serve it as long as I'm able."

“Your method of evasion indicates you are far too clever for your own good and cursed with an overabundance of stubbornness. No wonder my lord Keldwyn is fond of you.”

She didn’t mean it as a compliment, her displeasure unfurling like a frosty wind. Uthe owed the Vampire Council and Lyssa his allegiance, and disrupting the tentatively mending relationship between the two species would definitely conflict with that. But unfortunately, this was more important. His mind was still in disarray. Rhoswen forcibly shoving him into the past had left a painful vibration through him, as if a foot wide strip of skin had been torn from inside his chest wall. Regardless, he reached past it for his usual diplomacy, looking for something that wouldn't make his refusal seem like defiance.

Keldwyn spoke instead. "Your Majesty, might I request a private audience with you after I escort Lord Uthe back to his chambers? I think it best if he recovers his strength and sensibilities before you continue this conversation. He's fairly disoriented right now and I'm sure he doesn't wish to insult you."

Being escorted back to his room like a feeble old man. Uthe wanted to snarl, but Keldwyn didn't give him much choice, hauling him up and propelling him into motion. Since Uthe couldn’t yet walk a straight line, resisting would be an awkward and humiliating one-sided fight. "Let me see what I can do," Keldwyn muttered as he took them out of range of the Fae Queen and her bodyguard.

"I don't require you to do anything. I'm capable of managing this."

"You are quite capable, Lord Uthe, but there's a reason I'm a liaison.” He gripped Uthe’s arm through the tuxedo coat. “Shouldn’t I earn my considerable salary?"

“Your liaison role is for Council business, and we don't pay you a salary.”

“Well, you should. And this is Council business, in a sense, if it concerns the wellbeing of all of us.”

“When did I say that?”

Keldwyn stopped him in the hallway. “A few moments ago, to the Queen. You’d recall it if the Queen hadn’t dunked you into your past like a puppy in cold bathwater.”

Uthe was ready to fight with him, accuse him of telling Uthe he’d said things he never had, trying to confuse him, but Kel’s explanation made sense and calmed his racing heart. He had to get control of the panic. The panic made it worse.

"Lord Uthe." Keldwyn's voice was firm, his glance even more so as he directed him into his room. Cool, blissfully cool. He shouldn't be craving the touch of his own sheets the way he did right now. "This is not a matter of pride but of practicality. Lie down until the effects of your vision wear off. Even the lightest touch of Fae magic can be very powerful when you’re not used to the effects on your mind. Until you regain your bearings, you are like a spinning top with no direction."

Uthe started to peel his lips back in a fang-baring response, but Keldwyn touched his face, distracting him. "Uthe," he said quietly. "Let me help. Showing the Queen what is in all our best interests is something I do better than most. Certainly better than a vampire.”

Uthe snorted. “She likes you only marginally more than she likes my kind.”

“That may be true. But I’m still family, in a way. She has to put up with me. As you heard, I haven’t outlived my usefulness yet.” He sobered again, held Uthe’s gaze. “I will not betray you in this."

He didn’t have much choice, did he? Somehow, while he was mulling that over, Kel eased him to the edge of the bed, helped him remove the coat. As he opened Uthe’s shirt, the male’s fingertips slid against his bare skin, since vampires had no chest hair to interfere with the sensation of contact. He took off his own shoes and slacks, though the Fae stood close, as if he expected Uthe to topple over like a three-legged chair. Since Uthe wasn’t sure if he was right, he maintained a sullen silence and stretched out on the bed in his shorts. It was less than he normally wore to bed, but he was recuperating, not sleeping.

“I’ll lay down for a short while, but I need to attend to other business. How long a recuperation will this require?”

“Probably an hour at most. Maybe a half hour, given you have a strong mind and constitution.” Keldwyn adjusted the pillow beneath his head.

“I have been putting myself into bed for some time, my lord.”

“Indeed.” But Keldwyn trailed his fingers over Uthe's short crop.

"What she wants to know, I can’t give her." Uthe spoke to derail his mind from the direction the Fae’s peculiar behavior was taking him. Keldwyn’s touch drifted from his scalp to his naked shoulder, over the curve of his pectoral. Uthe’s nipple became taut in anticipation of a caress. He grasped Keldwyn’s wrist, stopping him. "But what can I offer that will help you convince her?"

“Your motive.” Keldwyn withdrew and took a seat at the foot of the bed, his hip pressed against Uthe’s leg. “You may be easy on hers. She is not trying to take from you what you are seeking. Whatever Lord Reghan placed in the Shattered World would not be beneficial to the Fae world. She has enough confidence in his memory for that not to be an issue. Her main concern is allowing a vampire into her world whose purpose she does not understand."

“Hmm.” Uthe closed his eyes. “Would she understand who the Templars were? Who they were meant to be, no matter what they became?”

“Perhaps. What did they mean to you?”

“Pure service. The mercy of that is almost a forgotten memory. To serve simply because it is just and right, for the higher good, not for any purpose of your own." Uthe mumbled the last part, but opened his eyes before he could get lost in the rumination. The disorientation, the need for Keldwyn’s assistance, had made him feel like a child. Yet the Fae seeking Uthe’s counsel reminded him of who and what he was. It returned his sense of order and let him focus on the truth, the best thing he could offer the Unseelie Queen. "Tell her that is my intent. I was charged to do something centuries ago, and I must finish it, to honor my oath of service."

"Hmm." Keldwyn pursed his lips and ran a fingertip along Uthe's jaw. "I hope you will remember those words when I return to you, my lord. They intrigue me no little amount."

"I will be here," Uthe said. "Until I am not."

He didn’t remember Keldwyn leaving, but when he opened his eyes again, it was forty-five minutes later. His mind was once again settled and clear, though beset by a sense of urgency. Everything was coming together quickly. Perhaps it had been planned that way all along, which was comforting, the idea of a Grand Plan driving him. It might be in conflict with the inexplicable chaos of other outcomes bearing down on him, such that he wasn't sure how to process the whole picture, but he would deal with it the best possible way. One painful thing at a time, and he knew what was next.

Mariela, please meet me in the garden, at your favorite place by the moonflowers.
 Best to be done with all of this at once. Though he cared deeply for his servant, he was still surprised how the prospect of what he was about to do sent shards of pain through his heart like emotional stakes. But he wasn't likely to return from this quest. It was rare a man had the opportunity to say farewell to all that was important to him before Death claimed him. He could say what he needed to say now, before he was beyond the ability to say anything.

Yet he wondered if it might be better to be like young Jacques, where Death took the soul away before such good-byes were anticipated. Perhaps the heart wasn’t equipped to bear this much sorrow at once.

He was past any logical way to silence the denial that it had to be done. The postcard and the memories the Fae Queen’s touch had unlocked had brought that to an end. He couldn’t simply go on as before, pretending that nothing had to change.