The Geomancer

by Clay Griffith

  Gyalo escorted them all out and took them back to the town’s central courtyard, where a platform was being constructed and decorated like a shrine with paint and colorful scarves. Off to one side was a thick chunk of wood about three feet high. There was a low depression in the top of the wood. A chopping block.

  Adele leaned closer to Greyfriar and Anhalt. “We don’t have time to worm our way into their good graces with our pleasant manners. I think it’s time for something a little more impressive.”

  Gyalo stared around the deck of the Edinburgh in the morning sun, as if he had walked onto another planet. Shirazi and the Harmattan were drawn up in respectful formation before the main causeway. Captain Hariri and his officers posed on the quarterdeck above in uniforms as sharp as they could manage. The village elder took in the complexity of the airship.

  “Captain,” Adele called out, “could you take us up, please.”

  Gyalo grasped the rail with the first bump of air. With wide eyes, he watched as the Earth receded from the hull of the ship. The villagers on the ground pointed and cheered. Gyalo waved. At two hundred yards, the capstan was locked. The Edinburgh hung in the buffeting wind like a gigantic child’s balloon.

  Adele pulled Gyalo from the rail, and said to Anhalt, “Let’s step into my cabin and have a chat.” She waved to Hariri. “Mission accomplished. You may reel in Edinburgh.”

  Within minutes, a steward brought pots of tea—Equatorian tea—and a tray of meats, cheese, and bread to Adele’s cabin. Gyalo couldn’t stop smiling.

  Through Anhalt, Adele said, “Tell me about the monastery,” as she poured tea.

  “It was built many centuries ago by the wisest of shamans. They placed it far away from anywhere so they would be safe from the evil magicks of the world.”

  “What were they afraid of?”

  “They were protecting something. You see, they had the Tear of Death.”

  Adele tried to appear calm. “I see. So this Tear of Death actually exists?”

  “Yes. In the monastery. The wise shamans and lamas are gone. The Demon King and his horde guard it now.”

  “And what is it exactly?”

  Gyalo nibbled cheese and set it aside, unimpressed. “Long ago, when the world was young, the gods shed a tear and it fell to Earth. Luckily it was found by a very wise monk who hid it away because he knew it was far too dangerous to be known by unenlightened men.”

  “Why?”

  “It is a piece of the god of death. The only dharma it knows is death. It does not seek to teach. It only wants to kill everyone, everywhere.” The old man smiled. “However, we are saved because it cannot act on its own. It can only do what men tell it to do. And all the men who were wise enough to know how to use it are gone. The only danger comes when men become demons. Demons have the heart to kill, but only men have the knowledge. Only when demons and men are one will the Tear of Death be used.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then we all die,” Gyalo replied simply. “The heavens and the Earth will separate. The path to enlightenment will be severed. The demons win once and for all.”

  “Where is this monastery?”

  The elder looked confused. “It’s high in the mountains.”

  “The mountains,” Adele retorted, unable to hide her annoyance, “are vast. Something a bit more precise would be helpful.”

  Gyalo reached for more honey with a self-satisfied laugh. “There is no way to be more accurate. You simply look for it until you find it.” He smirked as if they were foolish outsiders who didn’t understand the rules of nature.

  Adele, however, had no intention of searching aimlessly. There was one person in the village that knew precisely where the monastery was.

  CHAPTER 19

  The cold slap of the night made Adele pull her thick coat around her neck and plant a gloved hand on her hood. Greyfriar wore nothing more than his usual wool uniform, far too thin for a normal human in this frigid land. The icy wind flapped through his cloak, but he didn’t care. The horns and drums had stopped. The bonfires had burned down to glowing piles of embers. The festivities were done for the night.

  Greyfriar led the way through the dark, silent village to the stone hut where the Demon King languished. The two sentries huddled around a small fire, dozing. They both jerked awake as Greyfriar and Adele approached from the shadows. Greyfriar began a conversation with them in what sounded like serviceable Tibetan, rather than Hindi. The guards seemed relaxed by the foreigner using their language. Greyfriar shared a laugh with the two men before he drew long daggers from his high black boots and handed them to the sentries. They smiled and stood aside.

  Once inside, Adele lit a small lamp. “What did you tell them?”

  “The truth,” Greyfriar said. “That I wanted to impress the beautiful woman by looking heroic in front of a demon.”

  “You’re such a romantic.” Then they were gazing on the bent form of the Demon King. He remained motionless as they entered, his eyes still closed. His prone position, after all this time, would have been excruciating for a human, and even a vampire would find it tiresome eventually.

  “My name is Gareth.” Greyfriar spoke in vampiric, a combination of guttural noises and hissing.

  The grey head twisted suddenly to regard him but didn’t react with any recognition to the name. The prisoner’s nostrils flared as if trying to find the masked figure’s scent, but failing. Greyfriar always smeared himself with human blood to mask his true species from his vampire brethren. However, the Demon King inclined his head as respectfully as he could manage. “A clever disguise. I am Yidak. I’m sorry to meet you under such awkward circumstances. I’d prefer to talk to your true self.”

  The swordsman lowered his scarf and removed his glasses to show his cerulean blue eyes. The old vampire laughed with satisfaction before his gaze darted to Adele.

  “How did you come to be captured by these people?” Gareth asked.

  “I was on pilgrimage. Usually I do not stray so far out of the mountains, but a vision bade me do so.”

  “A pilgrimage?” Gareth queried with incredulity. That term couldn’t be correct. Perhaps the old vampire was misunderstanding the word, or had adapted it to vampiric incorrectly. “What could you possibly have been on pilgrimage for?”

  “To find you.” Yidak smiled. “You are going to save me. And then perhaps I’ll return the favor.”

  Adele’s brow lifted at that. The old vampire’s eyes were quick to regard her, so she softened her expression once more as if she wasn’t understanding and allowed Gareth to continue the conversation.

  Gareth rolled his eyes in derision at the Demon King’s lunacy. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. Why don’t we start with you telling me about the place you come from.”

  The vampire shifted for the first time in his bonds, with the rattle of chains and the creak of tightening hemp. He struggled to crane his neck for a better look at Gareth. “You seek the monastery?”

  “I have heard much about it. I am curious.”

  “Word of our retreat has traveled far it seems. From your accent, you made a long journey solely for curiosity’s sake.” The vampire took in Gareth’s sword and pistols.

  “The war has changed my perceptions about many things.”

  “War?” The silver-haired vampire stiffened.

  “Yes,” replied Gareth. “The humans decided to fight back. It’s not going well for us.”

  Yidak’s eyes fell on Adele. “And yet you stand beside your enemy. Or is she a meal?”

  “She is neither.” Gareth chuckled, while Adele bit her lip, trying desperately not to react.

  “Intriguing.” The vampire pondered the observation. Finally, he said, “Free me and I will welcome you to the monastery.”

  “I don’t know that I’m in a position to do that.”

  “I suppose you could search for the monastery on your own,” the vampire said without pretension. “You certainly have the lifespan to find it. She may
not. It is not so easy to see as that. And even if you found it, you would not get in without much bloodshed. Yours.”

  Gareth looked at Adele. Her expression gave him no clue what direction he should take. She was allowing him to make the decision. These were his people. Gareth knew time was critical. The Witchfinder could be close.

  “I’ll consider it,” Gareth finally stated.

  The elder vampire observed Gareth’s hands lift the scarf to cover the lower half of his face once more and placed the mirrored glasses over his blue eyes. Then the prisoner exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, his head hanging low once more. Greyfriar and Adele left him that way.

  The next morning at breakfast in their crowded room, Greyfriar watched the stunned surprise creep into Anhalt’s expression as Adele told him of the offer from the Demon King.

  “Please tell me you aren’t considering it,” the general began. His hand lifted to his forehead. “Oh God, you are, aren’t you?”

  Adele remained reasonable. “It would solve our problems. Let’s face it, we could search these mountains for years before we found this hidden monastery. Goronwy is ahead of us and he has vampires to help him search. He may have found it already.”

  General Anhalt spoke in a low tone despite the unlikelihood of any English speakers nearby. “And how do you intend to prevent the Demon King’s execution?” His attention went to Greyfriar. “I won’t believe you would injure anyone in this village.”

  “And you would be right,” Greyfriar informed him. “I will steal in and out with none the wiser. I will go unmasked so that, if I am seen, I will appear to be another demon come to save my king.”

  Anhalt regarded Adele. “And what about you?”

  Adele couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. “I will be with you and the rest of the men on Edinburgh. We should make ready to sail today before the festival concludes.”

  Anhalt breathed out a sigh of relief before adding, “Gyalo will be offended. He wanted us here for the execution tomorrow morning. He thinks our presence is good fortune.”

  “No, we need to be gone. If something does go awry, I don’t want trouble between us and the villagers.” Adele pulled her coat tighter about her. “It would be easy for them to blame the outlanders.”

  “Easy, and accurate,” Anhalt said. “I will inform Captain Hariri to make ready to embark with all due haste.”

  Anhalt handed Adele a cup of tea. It was the honest-to-goodness Equatorian variety. She gave him a look of gratitude and shifted closer to Greyfriar for warmth. He opened his cloak and she slipped inside, nestling in the crook of his shoulder.

  The general asked, “And this old vampire is content with leading humans to his home?”

  “We’ll soon see.” Adele’s breath misted in the air.

  “He won’t have a choice,” stated Greyfriar coldly.

  The general grunted with understanding. The pallor of his skin had resumed a more normal shade, but Adele could tell he was still in the grip of the altitude sickness. She debated asking Anhalt how he was faring, but she knew what his answer would be, and it wouldn’t be the truth. However, the truth stood out in the hunch of his shoulders and the deep hollows of his eyes.

  “I will rush Hariri along. We should be air-ready in a few hours.” The old soldier gained his feet stiffly.

  Adele rose also and placed a kiss on his cold cheek. He froze for a moment and then his hand brushed her arm with all the tenderness her father could never muster. That small gesture broke Adele’s heart. She watched him depart and then sank back into Greyfriar’s arms.

  “He’s struggling,” the swordsman muttered.

  Adele nodded. “I feel awful for allowing Simon to insist on this. But if I were General Anhalt, I wouldn’t like to be coddled either.”

  “Would you like me to tell you he will be fine?”

  Adele’s throat tightened. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Your Anhalt is a pillar of strength and when that falters he relies on sheer determination. This place won’t be his end. Did you notice he no longer uses his cane?”

  Adele turned to Greyfriar, her eyes shining in the firelight. “You’re right. I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t noticed. Maybe I only see the weaknesses in him because it’s so unusual. The strengths, I expect.” She smiled.

  When Gyalo arrived to bring them to the final day of the festival, he was disappointed that Anhalt could not attend and shocked when Greyfriar launched into conversation in simple Tibetan. The delighted elder led his two guests out into the frigid wind full of horn blasts, drum beats, and the smell of charcoal. Colorful banners snapped in the wind as huge bonfires crackled. There was much singing and dancing from every corner of town and, unfortunately for Adele, much fermented yak butter. She had become somewhat accustomed to its smell, as it was in everything from food to people’s hair, but the flavor took longer to accept. For the first time, she envied Greyfriar’s inability to taste—that is until they served platters of delicious sweet rice cakes.

  The villagers gave small gifts to Adele and she shared what little she had on her, sending for trade goods to be brought from the ship. Curious people bombarded her with questions and she did her best to tell them about life outside the walls of the mountains. There was much laughter and joy. Adele drew one of the children up onto her lap. The little girl played with Adele’s scarf, so she removed and wrapped it around the child’s neck, much to her delight.

  Finally, it was late in the afternoon when Adele announced they had to be on their way. Gyalo pleaded for them to reconsider. The villagers crowded around, cajoling the strangers to stay. She and Greyfriar managed to work their way to the main gate and slip outside. As they approached the ship, trailing a mob behind them, the red tunics and rifles of the Harmattan deployed down the gangplank. Weapons were not brandished in a threatening way, due to Adele’s urgent signals to Shirazi, but the presence of heavily armed men set the villagers back on their heels. Gyalo finally stopped arguing when Adele and Greyfriar set foot on the gangplank. They turned and bowed their thanks to the disconsolate elder, and then retreated on deck.

  The solitude of Adele’s cabin elicited a grateful sigh from her. Within the hour, the steam whistles sounded to signal impending take off. Now the chanting of airmen and the drumbeat of tramping feet filled the air, along with the roar of buoyant gases pouring into the last chambers in the dirigible. Soon the ship rocked as it lifted free of the ground.

  Gareth turned from the bow window where final shafts of sunlight spilled in around him. “You should get some sleep while you can. We have hours before I need to make my way back to the village.”

  Adele didn’t find the suggestion as appealing as it should have been. Despite the exhaustion of the village festivities and the copious amounts of the yak brew, the specter of nightmares remained with her. With the sudden darkness, the cold of the mountains seeped in through the wooden walls. She was loath to remove her coat, knowing the bed was as cold as the icy air about her. She rubbed her arms without conviction. “I don’t have time to sleep right now.”

  Gareth shed his garb as casually as if it were a summer’s day. His pale skin shone almost white in the gloom of the cabin. Adele marveled that there wasn’t a scar on him, even after being burned to the bone by her geomancy last year. He had been reborn that day. His lean, corded body slipped into the blankets, and he reached out to her.

  “Come to bed.”

  She found herself disrobing, flinging her clothes aside in her rush. A smile played on his lips. The cold gripped her bare skin and a gasp escaped her, but then she was under the covers and pressed close against his warm body.

  Adele shivered. She couldn’t help it, even though his arms and muscular legs wrapped tight around her. Through chattering teeth, she grumbled, “How can people thrive in this cold?”

  “You’ve lived in the warmth of Equatoria your entire life. Your blood is thin.”

  Adele snorted. “Who told you that?”

  “No one. I
can taste it.” Gareth’s chest rumbled beneath her cheek.

  Another shiver wracked her and she buried her head under the covers. “That’s why I’m always cold.”

  “There are ways to warm you.” Gareth’s hand trailed down her spine. “A little exercise.”

  “Exercise?” Adele’s eyes peered out. “Are you mad? In this weather . . . oh!” She bit her lip to stop the bubble of laughter.

  “It would warm the blood . . . and the sheets.” There was a fire already burning in his eyes.

  Adele gave him a one-sided smirk. “That it would.”

  “Unless you’re too tired.”

  Was that a challenge in his tone? “I’m never that tired.”

  He pulled her up toward him and kissed her, and the cold of the Himalayas finally melted away.

  CHAPTER 20

  Gareth took flight from the bow windows of the cabin. Adele watched him with a pensive expression as he slipped into the darkness. She also seemed slightly vexed that she could not accompany him on this venture. The woman’s yearning for adventure was one of the traits that he loved, but sometimes it seemed as if she merely sought constant action to distract her from the weight of her world-changing decisions. Her small, pale figure vanished in the night, and when the sight of the yellow chemical lights of the Edinburgh were swallowed up against the colossal background of the mountains, Gareth felt a moment of loneliness.

  The night wind buffeted his frame and it took a great deal of concentration to fight through the sky. He made constant adjustments to his density and repositioned his limbs, tacking and veering to keep from scraping against a mountainside. Snow was falling, not heavily but enough to create a wispy veil ahead of him. His internal sense of direction kept him angling for the village. The blowing snow was useful since he wished to come and go without being noticed. It would be best if they had no idea how their prisoner had escaped when they found the cell empty at sunrise. He hoped that the Demon King would not try to seek retribution against the villagers. If so, Gareth would have to step in and make sure he left quietly.