The Geomancer

by Clay Griffith

  The faint lights of the village glowed deep in the valley even through the falling snow. The sound of horns and drums drifted up to him. Gareth sank lower, a dark shadow in the brilliant white of the night.

  The bright glare of a bonfire in the central courtyard almost blinded him, but he could see a great crowd massed. Torches lit the shrine and the several figures who stood atop it. One was Gyalo, who held a torch, but the others carried a mixture of farm implements such as flails and wooden pitchforks, and there were a couple of old muskets too. All of the men had their weapons pointed into the center of their circle. When one of villagers shifted, Gareth saw that in the center of the ring of men was the execution block with the silver-haired vampire bent over it. His arms and legs were bound with rope. There was a steel band around his upper body, with a short chain to the shrine, keeping him bowed with his vulnerable neck over the block. Standing next to him, a burly man lifted a massive axe.

  Cursing, Gareth dove.

  He landed just as the weapon swung toward the neck of the Demon King. Gareth’s arm stretched out across the path of the axe. The shaft slammed his forearm and his muscles fought to stop the blade just as it kissed the prisoner’s neck. Gareth shoved the weapon and its wielder away, baring his teeth and hissing at the crowd.

  Men fell back, screaming in fear. Gyalo stumbled away from the furious demon. In the crowd below, Gareth spied the young child with Adele’s scarf crying in terror. Muskets fired and he felt two lead balls punch into him. Gareth wished for his sword as the men gathered their wits and came at him with blades and rakes. Such close quarter fighting was messy and dangerous. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but nor did he want to be harmed. He dodged and grabbed men and their tools, tossing them into the musketeers who were frantically reloading. His claws ripped through the loops of rope about the prisoner’s arms and back. The iron chain kept the vampire’s head down on the block, but as Gareth turned back to face the villagers, Yidak seized the links in a desperate attempt to free himself.

  The mob surged toward Gareth, and he had no choice but to defend himself. Barely dodging a sword thrust, he took a rough-hewn bill hook deep in his side. He felt it as a heavy blow, but there was no pain. Grabbing up the brave farmer, who cried out in horror, Gareth used him to batter aside the others in front of him, trying to protect Yidak. Several sharp things impaled him from behind and he was pulled backward. He arched over and dropped the still screaming farmer.

  Suddenly the implements holding him snapped in half, and he was free. Gareth turned to see Yidak standing beside him with the chain hanging loose around his neck. The vampire’s still upraised arm looked poised to strike at the stunned assailants. They all fell back and stared in dread at the freed Demon King.

  Gareth reached for the vampire. “No!”

  However, Yidak was not intent on revenge. He leaned away as a sword struck at him three times. He avoided all of the blows with subtle twists of his muscular body. It took no effort at all, even though he had been held immobile for days. His next movements were fast, even for a vampire, his hands mere blurs. He didn’t use his claws, and the flat of his hands sent men tumbling. Yidak grabbed a man in front and one behind him and, with a single sweep of his arms, their bodies flung up into the air only to slam down again on opposite sides. The two men dropped unconscious.

  Abruptly a shrill screech split the night and all of the attackers covered their ears. It sounded so inhuman that even Gareth flinched. It took a second for him to realize the sound came from Yidak beside him. He had heard no vampire utter such a sound in hundreds of years. It was an age-old hunting cry.

  Gareth quickly recovered and grabbed Yidak’s arm. Leaping straight up into the air, he forced the other vampire to follow him. Yidak offered no resistance. They surrendered to the wind that swept them far from the dim fires of the village. Gareth released Yidak, and the old vampire followed him closely, like a shadow, matching Gareth’s maneuvers in split seconds. The Demon King made no boasts of his deeds nor mocked those who had failed to exact their justice. It was as if he cared for none of those things. He was merely enjoying the freedom of the sky. They soared up along the mountainsides with utter abandon. Gareth found himself reveling in the experience too, simply because Yidak seemed transported by the moment.

  The shape of an airship appeared through the swirling winds and Gareth ascended toward the Edinburgh. The old vampire regarded him with surprise. Gareth drew close to the hull and grabbed hold of the wooden planks. He turned to look for Yidak but found the old vampire clinging easily next to him.

  “We will climb up to the stern windows,” Gareth called out.

  The other vampire looked surprised. “Are we attacking?”

  “No. We are expected. I want no trouble from you.”

  Yidak smiled eagerly. He seemed oddly childlike with excitement. He motioned for Gareth to lead on. The two vampires crawled along the sloping hull toward the flattened stern. Hand over clawed hand, with feet shoved into the tarred gaps between timbers, they fought through the battering winds toward the yellow glow of the main cabin. Gareth hauled himself over the short balcony outside the bow windows. He gazed in to see Adele and General Anhalt in close conversation across the cabin. He tapped the glass with his claw. Adele leapt to her feet and ran for the window. Anhalt rose too and came forward, hefting a short-barreled shotgun, a deck sweeper.

  Adele’s peace of mind at the sight of Gareth changed to fascinated wariness as she noticed the naked form of the Demon King perched on the railing. She pulled open the window and drew Gareth inside, where he stumbled exhausted to the deck. He quickly dragged himself up and took Yidak by the arm. The old vampire cheerfully climbed through the window, staring around in fascination at Adele, Anhalt, and all the objects in the cabin.

  Adele seemed assured that the Demon King was not an immediate danger, so she turned to Gareth with relief. Until she saw the shafts of wood sticking from his back.

  “Bloody hell!” she gasped.

  “It’s fine.” Gareth twisted his head to look behind him. “Mainly garden implements, I think.”

  “Garden implements,” she repeated incredulously. She scanned the Demon King and saw he was unharmed. “Always standing in the damn line of fire.”

  “They’ll be easy enough to extract.” Gareth nodded at Yidak. “He was the one who broke them to free me.”

  “Thank you,” Adele said to Yidak in English and Hindi, although she didn’t know if he could understand. She made a conscious effort to keep her gaze on his face.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied in English. He smiled at the shocked looks on the faces of Adele and Anhalt. “I speak many languages, and I sense you are more comfortable with this one.”

  “That will simplify things,” Anhalt said, and without turning his gun away from their guest, he found a heavy-weather coat hanging on the wall and handed it to the naked vampire. Yidak studied the coat briefly, and then donned it with ease. He smiled at Adele, wrinkling the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes even more. She watched the old vampire slowly work the buttons on his new coat. She and Gareth exchanged glances of surprise. Yidak used his fingers with unvampirelike facility.

  While the old vampire was admiring the long oilcloth coat, Gareth said to him, “We upheld our end of the bargain. Will you honor yours and take us to the monastery?”

  “Sail west. I will direct you more fully as we grow closer. We have more than a day of flying before we draw near.” Yidak then bowed low to Adele, to Gareth’s surprise. None of his kind ever bowed to a human, no matter the act of kindness. What was the purpose? A show of supplication given that he was surrounded by superior force? All that graciousness could change once they came within range of his monastery and the odds evened up a bit. Yidak’s eyes held either wisdom or cunning. Gareth wasn’t sure which.

  When Adele went quickly to pass orders to Captain Hariri, Gareth said to the old vampire, “You don’t seem concerned to be a prisoner again.”

  Yid
ak shrugged. “There’s value in every experience. I find the whole affair a curiosity. I find you a curiosity. You come all this way. You pretend to be a human at times.” His eyes shined with a private joke. “You are unusual.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Gareth’s look of reproach showed clearly because Yidak’s laughter roared through the cabin. Gareth straightened stiffly, feeling the wooden stakes shift inside him. “I am alone, but perhaps for a reason.”

  “Perhaps,” Yidak replied. He gestured toward Gareth’s back. “You should have your human tend to those. I will not try to escape. I am interested to see what comes next for both of us. I gave you my word in the village and I give it again now.” His head nodded in deference. “Would you prefer to chain me?”

  “No need.” Gareth replied as Adele returned and she examined the wounds in his back. “If you do attempt to escape, she will kill you.”

  Yidak’s expression faded to confusion for a moment. “She will?”

  “You wouldn’t reach the window.”

  From across the cabin, Anhalt nodded in agreement with Gareth’s casual comment. Yidak looked at the general, and then stared at Adele with a curious smile.

  Gareth rolled an encumbered shoulder and said to her, “Let’s deal with these so the wounds can heal before we reach the monastery.”

  “We should lock our guest away,” Anhalt said. “If Her Majesty is going to be distracted by surgery.”

  Adele pointed at a narrow door on the forward bulkhead. “He can spend time in the map room.”

  Yidak complied without argument, eyeing Anhalt, who held the door open, as he passed. The narrow closet was used to store maps and charts, none of which would be needed here because there were no useful charts of this territory. Yidak studied his new cell, then sat placidly on the deck, calm and unperturbed, as if preparing to meditate. Anhalt closed the door and Adele locked it.

  “Well, he seems nice,” Adele commented with pleasant sarcasm. Then she went straight to a cabinet and pulled out her usual supply of scalpels and clean linen as Gareth tore off what was left of his shirt. He felt nothing but the pressure from the implements. He caught Adele wincing in sympathy while he arranged himself face down on the deck. There would be blood, and he didn’t want to ruin the bed. Wooden planks could be scrubbed clean.

  “You look like a porcupine,” Adele remarked in Alexandrian Arabic now, hopeful that even if Yidak was familiar with the language, he might not grasp the formal Egyptian dialect. With a grimace, she settled beside Gareth, laying out her instruments on a clean cloth. After a moment of silence, her hand touched his shoulder lightly. “You find Yidak interesting.”

  It was an observation, not a question. She knew him too well. While Adele went to work on the first wooden shaft that protruded from between his shoulder blades, he said, “I think he finds me more interesting, but you’re right. He’s odd. He had plenty of opportunities to savage his captors, but he refrained.”

  “Rare to find a vampire who can hold in his aggression.” With a sharp tug Adele yanked out the first shaft, the sharp end of some sort of flail.

  Gareth didn’t react. “Vampires hesitate to kill these days for only two reasons. Fear and . . . well, only one. If they know they are outmatched, they will not engage unless their hunger is too great.”

  Adele grabbed the next broken haft with a steady grip. “Gyalo said they captured the Demon King over two weeks ago. He should be ravenous.”

  “And yet he held back.”

  “Interesting,” Adele muttered, forcibly twisting the shaft to loosen it. She placed her knee on Gareth’s back, grunting the words as she struggled to remove the last implement. “I don’t know . . . if I’m looking forward . . . to what is waiting for us . . . at the monastery.” With a spurt of blood, a curved blade came free from Gareth’s back. Adele hooted in triumph. “Finally!”

  Anhalt looked away with a sick groan.

  “All done?” Gareth lifted himself up on an elbow.

  “I need to dig out the musket balls. Roll over.” With practiced ease, Adele probed the wounds with forceps and removed two lead balls from his abdomen. She took a towel and used it to soak up the blood dripping across Gareth’s ribs. Soon the wounds stopped bleeding. Adele studied her work, then stood and went to a basin of water, turning it red. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  Gareth couldn’t deny the hunger was there, probably shining in his eyes. “I won’t need much.”

  “You need to be at your best when we reach our destination. No telling what we’ll be up against.”

  “I can’t afford to weaken you. We both need to be functional.”

  Anhalt cleared his throat, and they recalled he was still present. The general looked merely uncomfortable, but he was probably horrified.

  Adele gave him an understanding glance. “General, you may withdraw.”

  He indicated the door of the map room. “But I should—”

  “Yidak isn’t getting out. Please, go rest. We need you at your best too at the monastery, and the altitude will get higher.”

  Anhalt tried to appear untroubled, but without success. “Yes, ma’am.” He went quickly out of the cabin and shut the door.

  Adele slumped on the floor next to Gareth. “I forget that others are disturbed by our unique relationship. It’s so natural to me now.”

  “I think you’ll find that you are unique among humans in that way.”

  “That’s not true. Your people in Edinburgh let you feed off them.”

  “I protected them from other vampires who would have killed them. They were . . . paying me, in a fashion. And, other than my realm in Edinburgh, a willing relationship is never the case between vampires and humans.”

  “But it could be,” Adele shot back passionately.

  Gareth placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Perhaps. One day. All vampires and humans will fall in love. It will be a golden age. We’ll learn to cook for you, and you will open your veins so blood flows like wine.”

  She eyed him, hearing playful sarcasm in his voice rather than scorn. “Just feed. And take as much as you need. You drink so little all the time, it’s a wonder you can function.”

  “I don’t need as much as you seem to think. Do you want me to be bloated and lazy like my brother? I need to keep my lean muscular figure intact, as I am frequently portrayed shirtless.”

  Adele groaned. “You know, just once I’d like to be shown in a heroic light in those damn books.” She poked him on the shoulder. “Which is why you have to finish your memoir and make me look good.”

  His humor vanished. “Someday.”

  “Soon,” she insisted, baring her left shoulder. Her olive skin was almost a honey bronze in the gaslight.

  Gareth’s hunger flared again and he let it, pulling her closer, his lips brushing against her flesh. She shivered and her arms curled under his and across his back. He kissed a spot on her neck where it met the shoulder and bit her. Her body flinched slightly, but then settled in his tight embrace with a long exhale of pleasure. Surges of goose bumps traveled over her skin under his hand.

  The rush of her blood across his tongue brought a flood of sensations. The foremost was always the power within her. It threatened to swallow him whole sometimes. Her essence rumbled like a volcano under the surface, hot and smoldering. The tang of spice showed she was fertile, and for a moment he wished they could be more than they were. However, children were an impossibility. For all their similarities, he and Adele were different species. Still, it was always a pleasant dream.

  He heard her heart begin to pound harder and he pulled his mouth from her, but kept her in his arms as she sagged against him. Her breath was a shaking exhale.

  His lips brushed her bare shoulder, licking a lingering drop of blood.

  “Do I taste good?” she asked, her voice drowsy and her eyes half closed. “Or do I still have the flavor of the grave? Remember the first time you drank? You said my blood tasted like your death.”

  “You do taste o
f death and life,” he whispered in her ear. “Because that is all there is in this world. But if it were up to you, you would choose only life.”

  “Your life . . . always,” Adele murmured.

  CHAPTER 21

  The Edinburgh labored to climb against a gale that blew between the towering peaks. On the main deck Adele stood with Greyfriar, Anhalt, and Yidak. She and Anhalt were dressed in heavy furs, as usual, with breathers around their necks. The general wore his Fahrenheit saber and heavy sidearm on his hips, and also carried the wide-bore deck sweeper. Greyfriar was in his typical uniform with rapier and pistols. Major Shirazi and the Harmattan gathered nearby, with rifles ready in case their guest attempted to escape.

  Yidak wore the same heavy weather coat, which he buttoned only to satisfy the modesty of his hosts, and he was bare footed beneath it. He studied the wild surroundings, bobbing his head in the wind as if he was sailing the updrafts himself. He wore an amazed grin.

  “How far now?” Adele asked through chattering teeth.

  Yidak craned his neck, peering about. He pursed his lips, replying in accented English, “Not long.”

  “You said that two days ago.”

  “Two days ago, it wasn’t long either.” He raised a finger. “But now it is very not long.”

  Adele turned away from the amused old vampire in annoyance. She took relaxing breaths and fell into herself. She once again reached out to the rifts. She had been seeking lines of power since leaving the village. She felt the tantalizing threads of energy slipping around her, far away and faint to her touch. She could only hope the monastery was built on or near a serviceable rift, as so many holy sites were. The plan was for her to enter the demon fortress, hiding from their sight, and locate the Tear of Death, if in fact it existed. If possible, she would bring it out, and they would be away on the Edinburgh. If it wasn’t possible to carry it, she would obliterate the vampires in the monastery as she had done at Grenoble. The strain of the event would be great, but she hoped that the monastery was moderate in size, certainly not as large as the town of Grenoble, and she would only need to draw power from the Earth in a relatively small area. If all went well, they would have the Tear of Death and be away without any harm done to any of her men.