As Gareth came in range, humans at the rails opened fire. Long orange tongues flashed from muzzles. A few bullets whizzed close. A ragged volley of cannon fire belched from the ship’s flank with an exhale of black smoke. He veered away from the projectiles barreling toward him just as the bellow of the cannon finally rolled over him. Gareth rose to put the hazy sun behind him and he dove for the masts. His claws raked through a mainsail. The wind quickly battered the rips into great flapping holes, and the ship lurched and slowed.
Something slammed into him from above. Flay. The power of her strike drove them both tumbling through the jungle of yards and shrouds until they crashed against the deck. Their impact cracked the rotting planks. More of Gareth’s ribs snapped. He shoved her off him. Bloodmen wheeled toward them but held their fire, most likely for fear of hitting their war chief. Flay had always been sinfully fast and strong, but there was something more furious about her now, almost animalistic and regressive.
She rolled to her feet and came at Gareth without pause for breath. Barely blocking her strikes, he maneuvered for room. Gareth shifted to the side, and as her arm went past he drove his claws into her side. She countered with a blow of her own, nearly taking his arm off. Blood splattered the deck.
Leaping up into the air, Gareth planted his foot on the back of her neck and shoved her forward and down. Across the deck, the bearded old man watched the battle with fascination, fingering the chain of another talisman. Gareth used his momentum to fly at Goronwy. His arm lifted to claw the old man down and end this.
A bloodman stepped suddenly between them and took the blow meant for Goronwy. It ripped him in half. The body knocked against Gareth and threw him off balance. The Witchfinder stepped up and looped the talisman’s chain over Gareth’s head before stepping back with a smile.
Instinctively Gareth expected excruciating pain. It didn’t come. In fact, he felt nothing. The surprise on Goronwy’s face told him it wasn’t what the Witchfinder expected either. He couldn’t have known. Adele’s geomancy had changed Gareth forever.
Gareth went to strike at Goronwy again, but Flay grabbed him from behind. Her claws opened the flesh on his shoulder. She grabbed his exposed collarbone and flung him aside. He smashed into the rail, scattering the sluggish human crew. Three of them went screaming over the side. Gareth snapped upright as two vampires grabbed his arms. With a cry of rage, he slammed them together, then catapulted the stunned forms overboard.
His strength was fading fast. He had lost too much blood. He needed a few minutes to feed and regain his vigor, but the nearest human was now scrambling away across the deck.
Flay rushed Gareth again. He leapt aside, creating the space he needed to land a blow on her spine. She crashed into the deck. Gareth pulled the talisman from his neck and wrapped it around hers.
Flay laughed through bloody teeth and pushed herself to her feet. “Did you really think that would work?”
Gareth moved warily as she did. “It was worth a try.”
“You and I are no longer affected by the wielders of the Earth.” Her robe was shredded and Gareth caught a glimpse of the huge scars that cut across her flesh almost like a cage. “So the playing field is even once again.”
Gareth didn’t understand, but he didn’t reply. He was already moving. Flay was the only thing he had ever feared, even when they fought on the same side. Now she was even more dangerous. The hatred on her face wasn’t just for him. She stared at everyone, including Goronwy, with the same contempt.
Gareth vaulted over a capstan toward the Witchfinder. Goronwy was the priority. With him dead, humanity would be safe. Adele would be safe.
Flay, instead of rushing Gareth again, tore a carronade from its lashings and heaved it across the deck. The small cannon struck Gareth’s hip and sent him sprawling into a morass of torn rigging. The iron cannon crashed against the side of the ship, taking out the rail. It teetered on the edge, tangled in the cables and shreds of sails that littered the deck.
Gareth staggered to his feet, his leg almost a dead weight. Blood saturated his hip. He didn’t feel the tangled ropes about his legs until the cannon tipped over the side and the lines tightened. It pulled him off his feet and yanked him along the deck through the shattered rail. He saw the sky below the airship and a lake-studded plateau far below. His claws dug furrows into the planks, clutching jagged wood as the weight of the cannon tore at him. He reached a hand back, trying to slash at the ropes tangling him. Suddenly Flay was there swinging one of the heavy teak spokes she had snapped off the capstan. He couldn’t protect himself.
A bright light exploded in front of his eyes and then darkness enveloped him. The world melted. Then he was airborne. He plummeted. More light shoved its way into his dazed brain. He fought the hurricane of wind, reaching for his tangled legs.
Then there was another jarring explosion and the world went from white to dark. He was surrounded by a choking blackness. Gareth snapped back to awareness as he realized he had fallen into the lake far below the ship.
Fear almost paralyzed him. He thrashed at the water. The sun above him was a watery circle that was fast disappearing from view. The mass of the cannon still lashed to his legs dragged him down into the darkness.
Gareth screamed and watched his breath disappear in a wave of bubbles back up to the surface. He tore at the ropes binding him, taking chunks of his own flesh in his desperation. But he finally kicked free. Hands clawing through water, he fought his way toward the shimmering light far above him. His chest ached to breathe. His vision narrowed to a mere pinprick of light and he reached for it.
He breached the surface with a massive gasp. He had time for only one gulp of air before he sank again, his clothes heavy and his arms leaden weights. Terrified, he struggled again to rise. When he broke the surface once more, his arms flailed about. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t free himself. He couldn’t lift up out of the water.
The sodden bulk of his coat pulled at him with nearly the same drag as the cannon. He shrugged it off, slipping beneath the icy water again. He floundered his way back up, managing another shallow gasp of air. This time he caught a glimpse of a distant shore in all directions, and he despaired.
He would never make it. He was near the center of the broad lake. His head arched back in a desperate attempt to keep his nose and mouth above the water. Within seconds, the depths grabbed him again and swallowed him down toward the darkness.
Water slipped into his lungs. He panicked, twisting in pain, his eyes bulging. He silently shouted. He thought of Adele waiting anxiously for him to return. He reached once more for the surface, but it seemed miles away.
A shadow crossed in front of the light above him. The water churned as something entered the lake.
Had Adele followed him? He tried to see her, but his vision faded and his limbs hung limp in the water. Darkness surrounded him.
Then a gush of water coughed past his lips. He was on his back with an arm tight around his chest. He was being dragged across the surface of the lake toward the shore.
He tried to speak. “Ad—,” he choked out. He struggled to turn and look at her.
“Don’t move,” came a masculine voice. “Just lie back or you’ll drown both of us.”
Takeda.
“How . . . did—?” Gareth broke off into wracking coughs as his lungs expelled more water. Only then did Gareth’s foggy brain realize the samurai was swimming. He had never known a vampire to swim. They were terrified of the water, with good reason. “How are—?”
“Enough talk!” barked Takeda sharply. “Stay still. I’ve never done this with another.”
Takeda’s swimming was barely that. He slapped at the surface with his free arm. Instead of being vertical in the water, they lay flat upon it. Gareth attempted to relax—a difficult feat. The thought of the cavernous empty deep yawing beneath them stirred his fear. Water continued to rush over his face. Waves pushed by the wind and Takeda’s frantic motions agitated the area aro
und them. Gareth desperately tried to keep water from slipping into his open mouth as he struggled to breathe and remain calm.
He felt Takeda’s legs kicking powerfully under him. It was a similar motion he had seen Adele use when she was soaking in her vast pools in Victoria Palace. The expanse of the bath meant she had to nearly swim across to him. Often she had tried to coax him in with her. Always he denied her. Now he wished he hadn’t.
An indeterminable amount of time passed. Takeda’s strength waned, his breathing only ragged gasps. The air misted constantly in front of him. Ice had formed on their exposed skin and hair.
Soon they were sinking as much as moving. Gareth knew that they would both drown if he didn’t do something. He pulled at Takeda’s arm holding him tight.
“Let me help.”
“Do you . . . know how?”
“Obviously not. But show me.” Gareth felt the grip relent. Immediately, he sank.
“Lie flat on the water.” Takeda’s orders came quick and strained. “Kick. Stretch your arms out. Push the water past you. Keep kicking.”
Gareth tried to emulate the samurai. It was a frantic explosion of churning water. Too quick. Too fast. He slipped deeper into the lake.
“Slow down. Don’t panic!” Takeda shouted to be heard over the splashing tumult. “Take a deep breath and hold it. Fill up your lungs. It will keep you on top.”
Gareth sucked in as deep a breath as he could muster and to his astonishment, he didn’t sink as far or as fast as before. Takeda grabbed Gareth’s shoulders and steered him in the direction of the shoreline, which was much closer than it had been before. Hope flared in Gareth and gave him the strength to strike out for it.
“Slowly, or you’ll exhaust yourself,” Takeda warned him.
“Too late . . . for that,” rasped Gareth. Still, he forced himself to reduce his frantic paddling to rhythmic slaps. He stopped talking, as the exhalations of his breath only served to make him sink. He gulped in more air and held his breath. His head spun from the exertion and the odd way of breathing. His body felt more numb than usual.
It seemed like hours later when stones scraped Gareth’s hands and knees as he reached the shore. He dragged in painful breaths, collapsing on the lapping bank. Takeda crawled up alongside him. Neither spoke for several minutes.
Finally Gareth croaked, “Thank you.”
Takeda nodded wearily, his topknot flopping over slightly from its tight gather. “The Tear?”
Gareth shook his head. He desperately wanted to resume the pursuit of the airship. It was possible he could catch it. Blood still gushed from the numerous wounds. The weakness in his limbs left him no strength to rise from the shallows. Takeda literally heaved him out of the water and onto dry ground.
“You have to feed or you’ll die,” Takeda commented, looking at the horrific wounds.
“At the monastery,” Gareth muttered in a voice that seemed far away even to his ears.
“Too far. There’s a shrine close by. Human pilgrims visit it frequently. Come. We may be fortunate.”
Gareth staggered to his feet with Takeda’s help. “How did you learn to swim?”
Takeda grunted, taking most of his weight. “There is much time in the monastery, enough to learn new things.”
“And you chose swimming?”
Takeda shrugged.
“I must really learn that skill.” Gareth gave a weak laugh. “It could come in very handy.”
“Shut up and walk.”
Takeda was right about the shrine. A lone pilgrim was there, placing incense and food at the stones. The moment he saw the two bedraggled figures, he raced to help them. It wasn’t until he was easing Gareth to the ground that he realized what they were.
Takeda grabbed the pilgrim’s arm tight before the human could flee the demons in terror. He nodded in Gareth’s direction. “Help him. He will die without a blood tribute. We won’t kill you.”
The pilgrim’s gaze jerked from Takeda’s fierce countenance to Gareth, who looked more like drowned cat than an otherworldly demon at the moment. A smile attempted to cross his lips as reassurance to his frightened meal, but it probably came out more like an evil grimace.
It had less than a comforting effect on the poor man, but still the pilgrim nodded. Blood darkened Gareth’s clothes and stained his pale skin. He lay limp on the ground. However, his eyes blazed with hunger. His thirst for survival fanned the hunter inside him as the man came closer. The pilgrim lowered his head baring his neck from under thick folds of wool, but Gareth grabbed his wrist and sank his teeth into the man’s flesh. He was embarrassed at his own desperation.
The warm thick rush of blood tasted like heaven. He closed his eyes and focused on drawing as much as he needed to replenish what he had lost. There came with it the rich gamey taste of yak and an odd array of spices. The man’s fear made the blood rich. Gareth could have drained him dry, and there was a part of his instinct that bade him to do so, but civilization and reason reasserted itself in time and Gareth released him after a minute.
The pilgrim swayed light-headedly at the sudden loss of blood, his skin now as pale as Gareth’s.
“You have brought honor to your family.” Takeda told the pilgrim, then found some food and drink in the man’s belongings and prompted him to eat.
Gareth closed his eyes as vigor slowly returned to his body. He could feel his extremities again.
Gareth roused from a drowsy slumber. He saw that the sun had gone behind the crest of the mountains. He had fallen asleep, but not for long. Takeda crouched next to him, staring quietly into the distance. “Takeda, what about you? Did you feed?”
“No.” The samurai regarded Gareth, studying his wounds again. “I have nothing that rest won’t take care of.”
The pilgrim glanced between them, packing his meager belongings. They were speaking in vampire, which gave the man little clue as to what fate awaited him.
Gareth said to the man in Tibetan, “As soon as you feel strong enough, you are free to return to your family. I thank you for your kindness. You have saved my life.”
The pilgrim’s expression went from fear to shock to relief. He bowed before both of them repeatedly. After draining his flask dry, he said a final heartfelt prayer at the shrine and ran off for home in the dusk.
Takeda shifted away from the pile of holy rocks, unsettled by the power of the pilgrim’s prayers. “Rest a while longer. We’ll start for the monastery when you are able.”
“I’m ready now.” Gareth sat up. “I need to get back to Adele.” His last vision was of her bleeding form. She was so much frailer than a vampire.
Takeda scowled at him. “Your wounds could reopen.”
Gareth fixed him with a hard stare. “There’s no time. I’ve failed already. We have to pursue Goronwy. If he uses the Tear of Death, it will spell the end for Adele and all of humanity.” He half expected for Takeda to shrug his shoulders and ask why that should be of any concern to him. It was something Cesare would have countered with.
But Takeda nodded grimly and helped Gareth the rest of the way to his feet.
“Do you think the monastery is safe?” Gareth asked.
“Yes. Once your Witchfinder departed, the resolve of Chengdu fled. We were routing the stragglers when Adele found me and bid me follow you.”
“She’s all right.” A weak smile slipped across Gareth’s lips.
“Yes.”
“She was worried for me, eh?”
“Good thing, too. You would have drowned.”
“You could have drowned as well. What you risked—?”
“Perhaps that was the reason I trained all those years. A test of sorts.” Takeda shrugged. “Otherwise, why else would I have chosen swimming to learn of all things? Yidak would call it karma.”
“Not many vampires would’ve taken that risk to save another.”
“We have much in common.”
“We both use swords. What else do we share?”
“You still have
to believe you’re unique.” Takeda huffed a silent laugh at Gareth’s ignorance. “That’s fine. We all did when we came here. I did too, until years ago when I led Chengdu’s packs in an attack on the monastery. I saw this place and met Yidak. I realized I served the wrong master so I abandoned Chengdu for Yidak.”
“How long have you been here?”
“It seems like my entire life, but it’s only the useful part of it.”
“Are you ever going to leave?”
Silence hung in the air. Gareth looked over to see Takeda pondering, as if the question had never occurred to him before. The samurai merely sat quietly, staring into the sinking sun.
It was at least another hour before Gareth felt strong enough to take to the wind and let it do the work of carrying them home. From a distance, he saw Adele pacing the ramparts, wrapped in a thick coat, waiting anxiously. The hard lines on her face only relaxed when Gareth and Takeda landed beside her, though they reappeared as she took in his miserable state.
Gareth was too exhausted to speak. He noticed her own blood-streaked form, but didn’t see any critical wounds. She was bandaged, and, though pale, she moved with more strength than he at the moment. As they limped toward their room, Takeda filled her in, using sparse words and descriptions. It wasn’t until the last point that Gareth saw her wince in pain. The relic remained in Goronwy’s possession.
“Damn,” she whispered. “Heaven help us all.”
CHAPTER 34
“They should have been here by now. It’s been two days.” Adele held the stone that she had used to send a signal to Captain Hariri.
Gareth wanted to placate Adele’s concern, but his own level of anxiety had been steadily rising. “I’ll go look for them.”
A scowl of irritation showed that she couldn’t go with him, but she said nothing. She knew the mountains were treacherous to impossible on foot, and she would only slow him down. “Take Takeda with you.”
Now it was his turn to be annoyed. “I’m fully recovered.”
“I doubt that, but that’s not the issue. We don’t know why they’re late. Nothing short of a disaster would have stopped Hariri. I don’t want you walking into trouble alone.”
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