by Jay Kristoff
“And that was?” Jean-François asked.
“When your whole world is going to hell, all you need is someone who sounds like he knows the way.
“‘In the Trial of the Blood,’ I called, ‘Seraph Talon told me that the greatest horrors forge the greatest heroes. But Frère Greyhand always said it’s foolish to be a hero. That they die unpleasant deaths, far from home and hearth.’ I raised my voice above the winds, trying to light a fire that might burn away this chill. ‘I think the truth lies in between. One or two moments of heroism—that’s what the wise seek. One or two heartbeats that last a lifetime. And this is one. A moment to bring a smile to your face on your deathbed. A moment that others will rue they were not here to share. A moment of which you will say, many years and miles from here, that then, if never again, I stood among heroes. And I was one.’
“I looked among them, fangs bared in a fierce smile.
“‘This moment.’
“Aaron nodded. ‘This moment.’
“‘Prioress Charlotte,’ I called. ‘Form your ’lock line along this ridge, from tower to bluff. Half firing, the other half reloading. Keep them off me best you can.’
“‘What do you intend to do?’ Charlotte asked.
“‘Hold them off long enough for our brother blackthumbs to save our backsides.’ I turned to Baptiste and his fellow smiths, thumping a fist upon the barrels of black ignis we’d dragged from San Michon. ‘The snowpack is heaviest along the north ridge. Up there, beneath Gabriel’s tower. A few barrels should bring the whole damned lot of it down on these bastards. Hundreds of thousands of tons. Just make sure you run your matchlines long enough to be clear when it all comes down.’ I swallowed hard. ‘And try to give me warning before you blow it. It’s going to be bloody down there.’
“‘There are thousands of them,’ Charlotte frowned. ‘It’s going to be slaughter.’
“‘Maybe.’ I nodded, looking about the group. ‘But my friends are the hill I die on.’
“Aaron checked the silverbombs in his bandolier. ‘I’m coming with you.’
“‘And I.’ Baptiste hefted a mighty silversteel warhammer. ‘Sunlight here is thirsty. Brother Noam and Brother Clement can handle the setting of the charges.’
“Aaron frowned. ‘Baptiste, you’re a blacksmith, not a—’
“The big lad pressed his lips to Aaron’s. ‘Shut up, love.’
“I reached into my greatcoat, produced a silver pipe. Aaron’s breath quickened as I packed it with the sanctus Charlotte had given me—a deeper dose than either of us had dared before. Astrid watched as I struck my flintbox, breathing down, her dark eyes on mine as it crashed into my lungs and out through my veins; that monstrous perfume, that divine madness, lifting me up into the frozen heavens.
“I packed another dose for Aaron, looking on as he drew down the entire bowl in one draught. De Coste’s whole body tensed, canines growing long and sharp. He breathed a plume of scarlet smoke into the freezing air, tendons in his throat stretched taut. And when he opened his eyes, I saw them washed scarlet, pupils so dilated his irises were almost gone.
“‘Oh, God,’ he breathed, red as blood. ‘Oh, God.’
“Aaron stabbed his silversteel blade into the snow, unbuckled his greatcoat and sloughed his tunic off his shoulders. I did the same, both of us silverclad amid the grey. The smiths hefted the ignis barrels and charged up toward the snowpack under Gabriel’s tower. Charlotte, Astrid, and the other sisters formed their line along the ridge, Keeper Logan and Micah set to defend them. As I met Astrid’s gaze, all the words I wished I could say were held behind my sharpening teeth. The memory of her lips burning brighter than the sacrament in my veins. And she smiled at me then. One of her thousand smiles—a smile that caught me up and held me tight, banishing anything remaining of the fear inside me.
“‘This moment, Gabriel de León.’
“The whole world was trembling as Aaron, Baptiste, and I ran down the slope toward the Dead. I didn’t remember drawing it, but Lionclaw was in my hand, a burning brand in the other. There was no terror in me then. No memory of friend or famille or even Astrid’s smile. There was only the bloodhymn. Pounding so fierce I found myself laughing—actually fucking laughing as we charged together to our deaths.
“I saw shapes in the darkness, heard running feet in grey snow. The Dead had seen our light, and they were coming, oh God, they were coming, and my fingers were wrapped about Lionclaw’s hilt and my heart crashing against my ribs as I looked to my fellows and saw their shining eyes on mine.
“‘Now,’ Baptiste hissed. ‘Now you can slay me something monstrous.’
“The air was freezing, but we felt no cold, goosebumps rising instead at the sight of the designs upon our skins: roses and serpents, the Redeemer on his wheel, angels singing and lions roaring, throat to wrist to waist in silver ink.
“And they were glowing.
“Mild at first. But as the footsteps rushed closer, our light grew stronger, a circle of illumination twenty, thirty, forty feet about us. I felt my left hand growing hot, and I saw the sevenstar on my palm and the silver angel up my arm, the lion on my chest—all burning with that same fierce and terrible light.
“‘God stands with us, brothers,’ Baptiste breathed. ‘We cannot fall.’
“‘No fear,’ I whispered.
“Aaron nodded. ‘Only fury.’
“And then, they hit us.
“Out of the dark, hissing and clawing. A swarm, dead eyes full of hunger, fangs glinting as lightning split the sky. The wretched of Talhost wore the clothes they were murdered in—courtly dresses or peasant rags, frockcoats or threadbare tunics, acres of pale and bloodless skin. There was no form to their ranks, just numbers and teeth and sheer, unholy strength, set to drain all the world to dust and bones.
“But mighty fucking Redeemer, we were untouchable. That rotted host came on like a flood, and as they reached our light, they broke like water on stone. Our inkwork blinded them, our silversteel cut them like scythe to wheat. The air was ashes and blood as we fought, snows drenched red. Looking to the northern ridge as lightning cracked the sky, I spied the tiny figures of Brother Noam and the other blackthumbs burying their barrels of black ignis at the snowpack’s base. Silvershot whizzed past our heads from the sisters above, and at the edge of our light, I saw wretched fall, skulls shattered, bones splintering.
“Everyone knows war is hell, coldblood. But there’s a heaven in it too. A savage joy in standing on the ground where your enemy wants you to fall. I couldn’t feel my body. I might have known the scrape of a claw or the brief twinge of a cracking bone. But pain? Pain was for the enemy. Pain and silver.
“And then, I felt him.
“The kiss of serpent’s fangs to my skin. The bleak infinity of countless years, the dust on the tombs of forgotten kings. The weight of a presence impossible, a mind unknowable, pressing in on mine out of the long and lonely black.
“The mind of a Forever King.
“I saw him, as if he stood before me. His skin, hair, eyes—all bleached snow-pale by years beyond counting and sins past reckoning. A youth, fey and eternal, beautiful and terrible, wreathed in an unlight so cold and bitter-bleak my heart felt frozen in my chest. And I heard him speak in my head then, across the blood-drenched snow between us, and his words were the song that would unmake the world.
“‘I see thee.’
“‘Great Redeemer…’ I whispered.
“‘I feel him too,’ Aaron gasped.
“The wretched came on, and our silversteel gleamed, blood-red and holy-bright. But they were nothing, I realized, nothing compared to what walked behind them with steady tread, implacable, inescapable, no impulse so base as haste to ruin the portrait as he strode toward us, surrounded by his children, his grandchildren, his brood entire—a dread court of the Blood, with all the time in creation upon their side.
“And then I heard screams. Behind.
“‘Gabriel!’
“Astrid …
<
br /> “‘GABRIEL!’
“Heart dropping into my belly, I looked back up the slope, saw torches burning against pale grey—Brother Noam and the other smiths dancing in the dark. And by their light, I saw a figure, familiar, weaving among them like a shadow and cutting them down into the snow.
“A shadow wrapped in red.
“‘Laure…’”
XV
IN RED
“I CURSED MYSELF. Of course that unholy bitch would be here to meet her father as he crossed the Godsend. Laure Voss had come upon us from behind like a thief, and I’d left our backs exposed like a fool. From the look, Noam and the others had set the ignis charges, but now Laure was tearing them to pieces, and with none to light the fuse …
“‘Can you hold them?’ I roared to Aaron, cutting down another wretched.
“‘Or die trying!’
“‘When I give the signal, you run back up this slope!’
“‘Go, Little Lion!’ Baptiste bellowed. ‘Almighty go with you!’
“Turning from my brothers, I dashed back up the ridge. I saw the bright blooms of silverbombs, sluices of blood. The blackthumbs fought bravely, but they were Brothers of the Hearth, not Hunt, and they stood now against a daughter of the Forever King.
“Their torches sputtered and failed, plunging the ridge back into darkness. Lightning split the sky, a brilliant arc, and I saw a blood-red shadow flickering across the snow toward the tower of Sanael, and the sisters firing from its shelter.
“‘Charlotte, get back! Astrid, RUN! ’
“I heard a scream in the black, heart twisting in my chest, but then I was among them, sword high, scything toward that figure bathed in my aegis’s light. Laure was drenched to the armpits in gore, chin and throat painted scarlet, all semblance of the beauty I’d seen in Coste cast aside. A monster now, bleak and true.
“Slipping aside from my blow and flashing back to the fringe of my light, the Forever Prince drew herself up to her full height. Her scarlet gown flowed about her like mist in the freezing winds, long red hair plastered to the blood soaking her skin.
“‘Get back!’ I spat. ‘In the name of God and Redeemer!’
“‘I told thee once, boy. No power hast thy God over me.’
“The sisters gathered behind me in the shelter of my light. I could feel Astrid there, and I breathed a prayer of thanks. But the bodies of other sisters were split and bleeding in the snow, Keeper Logan and Keeper Micah beside them. Glancing down the slope, I could see Aaron and Baptiste had lost their ground, falling back now before that relentless tide. We had only moments before the legion swept up the pass and overran us all.
“Laure smiled, and I felt the venom of her, seeping into my mind.
“‘I shall have thee on thy knees, frailblood. I shall taste thee unto dying.’
“A grey crust of ashes and blood was on my skin, and my aegis burned with holy fire. Laure’s eyes narrowed against it as I hurled my last silverbomb, feeling the heat on my skin as I swung my blade. I threw all I had behind that blow, and it landed true. But her flesh was ever stone as I struck her, and her fist was a battering ram as she hit me back.
“The breath left my lungs. I felt something tear. And then I was flying, hitting hard. Black stars bloomed as Laure leaned over me, arms open to break me.
“Tiny thunder blasts rang out across the ridge, a half-dozen shots of pure and blessed silver crashing into Laure’s face, chest, throat. She reeled backward, a cobweb of cracks across her skin. I blinked the blood from my eyes, Prioress Charlotte roaring, ‘Reload!’
“All heaven held its breath. All time stood still. I rose up out of the snow, Lionclaw in my fist, and with all my strength and the name of God upon my lips, I drew back my blade and plunged it into Laure’s chest.
“Again, she struck me, claws tearing my skin and sending me flying back into the tower. The masonry smashed to dust as I hit, blood in my mouth, ribs shattering. The ancien staggered as she clutched Lionclaw, now buried to the hilt in her chest. But still, this Ironheart bitch wouldn’t fucking fall. Her face twisted, and my heart sank as she took hold of the blade with smoking hands and dragged it from her shattered breast.
“‘I am a Prince of Forever. Think ye a sliver such as this can end me?’
“Prioress Charlotte stepped forward, the wheel about her neck like silver fire, the clawmarks across her face twisting as she bellowed, ‘In the Mothermaid’s name, I say back!’
“The vampire hissed, one hand up against the light. And with the other, she lifted the blade she’d just pulled from her chest and hurled it. I heard Astrid cry out as the sword plowed into Charlotte’s skull, splitting it in half and sending the prioress’s body sailing back like a rag doll. And as those bottomless eyes fell on Astrid, I dragged myself to my feet.
“My silverbombs and holy water were spent; I’d nothing left to throw. And so I threw myself, crashing into Laure and bringing us both down into the snow.
“Her fist collided with my skull, and she climbed astride me, black eyes narrowed against my aegis, gore-slick hands sizzling as they closed about my throat. Her breast was shattered where my sword had struck, but still she lived, her strength the sum of ten thousand stolen lives. I could feel the chill off her skin. See death in her eyes.
“‘Is this the best of thee? So feeble, thy final gasp? E’en the babes of thy beloved Lorson fought fiercer than this afore I bathed in them.’
“My heart froze in my chest. ‘… What?’
“Her lips curled, all the horror of hell in her eyes. ‘Vowed did I, that all thou hast I wouldst take, Gabriel de León. Thy home. Thy mother. Thy little Celene…’
“‘You lie!’
“Laughter rang across the frozen peaks, black and bleak. ‘A palace shall I build of thy suffering, frailblood. Upon a throne of thy misery shall I reign. All sh—’
“Lionclaw crashed across the back of Laure’s head, bone splitting, blood splashing. The vampire reeled, hissing, fangs bared.
“‘The only queen on this mountain is me,’ Astrid spat.
“Standing above us, she drew back my bloody blade for another strike.
“‘And he’s no frailbood, you unholy cunt.’
“There’s a liberation in death. When you know you’re going to die, the fear of it departs. All that remains is the rage. And as I seized hold of Laure’s throat, that was all I felt. Rage. I pictured my mama, braiding my hair on my saintsdays, teaching me to wear my name like a crown. I saw my baby sister, my little hellion, my Celene, laughing as I told her some bawdy tale, hearing her voice in the letters I’d never answered. And last, I thought of my other sister. My sweet Amélie. The girl who told us stories of an eve, who danced as if to music only she could hear. Ma famille. My heart. And this leech had ripped all of it away. I was back in the mud of Lorson then. The day what was left of Amélie came home. And I felt it, ringing in my head like a song to which I already knew the words. A promise. A name.
“Esani.
“My hand tightened about her throat and I felt it; all my hate and all my fury seething under my skin. Laure’s eyes grew wide and her mouth opened as her throat began to blacken under my touch. She seized my hand, but still I squeezed, steam rising from the cracks as her blood began boiling beneath her skin.
“‘Release me!’
“She screamed, immortal flesh burning in my grip, that porcelain charring to the bone. Boiling blood spilled down my arm, scalding, steaming, but still I held on, pushing her off me now and down into the snow, her flesh crumbling in my hand. Those ageless eyes melted and ran down her cheeks like candle wax as she cried out again.
“‘FATHER!’
“And across the black between us, I heard a roar of purest rage ring out in reply. I could hear the anguish in it. The hatred, an eternity wide. But with one final scream, the Wraith in Red’s spine arched, and her boiling tongue lolled between her fangs, and with all the fury of centuries denied, Laure Voss burst into ashes in my grip, leaving little but a smo
king wound in the snow and the remnants of a tattered gown, red as blood.
“I staggered to my feet, and Astrid met my eyes. ‘Gabe…’
“‘Take shelter in the tower,’ I gasped. ‘Go!’
“Breathless, bleeding, I ran across crimson snow toward the ignis barrels. Aaron and Baptiste had abandoned the fight below, the Endless Legion howling behind them. I roared ‘RUN FASTER!’ as I reached the snowpack, searching the powder for the matchline cords. Fumbling for my flintbox, I pressed flame to fuse. The line spat sparks, fire hissing down its length toward those buried barrels and the doom inside.
“‘De Coste! Baptiste!’ I roared. ‘RUN!’ And then I was sprinting up the slope, snow crunching beneath my boots, toward the only salvation I could see. The ignis detonated behind me, muffled by storm and snow. But beneath, I heard a fearsome sound, like the tread of mighty boots. A great cracking, as the fresh powder from that raging storm fractured, a split cascading across Gabriel’s peak and loosing the weaker snows beneath.
“I felt the ground giving way, trying desperately to keep my footing. But the whole pack crumbled, and I flung myself across the brink toward my only hope—the outstretched hand of that towering angel, still buried beneath the snow. It was the bloodhymn that saved me, I think. That, and perhaps the hand of God. And I crashed against Gabriel’s open palm, digging my fingers into the tower’s stone as all the world came apart.
“The whole Godsend rang with the thunder of it. God only knows how much snow was loosed. A tidal wave of grey, a calamity crashing down the mountain’s face, ever picking up more weight and speed. And as the Endless Legion was swept back down the mountain, I felt him, like clawed and frozen fingers digging into my skull.
“The vow of a father eternal, to the one who’d murdered his daughter beloved.
“‘I have forever, boy.’
“‘I am forever.’”
XVI
LAST SON