Night's Templar

by Joey W. Hill

  It was not Saladin's army. Nor Turkish raiders. He yanked himself back to the present, more forcefully this time. Only two of the entourage were on horseback, the Fae Queen and Lyssa. Jacob was leading her horse and another Fae male was leading the Queen's. The man was clad in a light armor that molded to his broad-shouldered body, a sword at his hip. His dark hair shot with silver--actual silver, not gray--was pulled back in a braided queue, exposing an unexpected scar on his face. Apparently not all high Fae had the healing ability vampires had, making their beauty eternally flawless. This must be Cayden, captain of the Queen's Guard. Lyssa had spoken favorably of him.

  The Fae Queen was in a white and silver dress with streaks of blue. It shimmered like a combination of ice and water. Her white hair poured down her back past her hips. A dozen Fae accompanied them on foot, six men and six women, and they were garbed no less spectacularly. They looked exactly as the fables said. Uthe heard the Council members murmuring among themselves. Even Mariela allowed herself a quiet whisper to Jessica about the beauty of the two queens, side by side. Rhoswen was on a snow white stallion, Lyssa on a glossy black palfrey. The horses seemed to tolerate her unusually well, since horses were normally fractious around vampires. Mason was a rare exception, as he kept two Arabians at his South American estate.

  Lyssa and her sister were speaking, Lyssa gesturing as if they were discussing the grounds. So far, so good. Everyone looked congenial. However, the sheer power emanating from the party was causing some uncomfortable glances and movement among the Council members.

  "Is that all coming from the Fae Queen?" Belizar muttered, shifting to Uthe's side.

  "I expect so. It may be a simple show of strength, to remind us of our place." He gave his former Council head a look without rancor. "Our current Council head has been known to do something similar at politic moments."

  Belizar snorted. "You ever keep a salt shaker on your person, my lord, so you can rub it into my open wounds."

  "I know how tough you are, my old friend. You do not hold onto such things in favor of the greater good. It is why I continue to have high regard for you, despite your stubborn unwillingness to see anyone's point other than your own, unless it's at the tip of a wooden stake."

  "Change of any kind is a critical decision for vampires. Proper incentive is necessary."

  Uthe hid a grin at that. It was always unexpected how well Belizar presented in a tux. His hot-blooded demeanor and muscular body mass suggested he'd be more at home in the long coat and tall fur hat of a Cossack. But with his shoulder length hair sleekly combed, he looked handsome, if not entirely approachable. Though he'd always been more warlike, Belizar had once excelled at the political maneuvering necessary to lead the Council. Even Lyssa had supported his appointment. Belizar had only embraced his less admirable leadership traits in the last few years, losing patience for political machinations and becoming far less tolerant of change.

  Uthe wondered if Lyssa should have suggested Belizar and Gideon engage in a nice evening of poker and vodka together. But though Belizar got along well enough with Vincent, his current servant, he decidedly didn't cross the traditional vampire-servant lines.

  Though he'd been aware of his position in the entourage all along, Uthe only now allowed himself to shift his attention to Keldwyn, who was walking a few feet away from the Fae Queen's mount. Uthe suspected it was a politically chosen, neutral position, for the Fae did not look shunned, and Rhoswen tossed a couple comments his way that seemed friendly. He responded with an amicable half-bow in response.

  The Council members might be drawn to the beauty of the queens, the exotic newness of the other Fae, but it was Keldwyn who held Uthe's gaze. The outfit he had chosen was less embellished than what he normally wore. While Uthe wondered why, he didn't disapprove of the choice, for it only enhanced his physical attributes, no ruffles, embroidery or jewels distracting from them. His short white tunic was belted with a rust-colored sash over matching hose and black boots that stopped below the knee. He wore a gold ring, a simple band, on the middle finger of one hand. His hair was braided in two short plaits on either side, the slim pieces pinned back with a gold clasp, keeping the rest of his loose mane out of his face. It enhanced the precise cut of his features. Uthe pressed his lips together as his gaze drifted over the sensual mouth, held in a slight curve of polite interest that revealed nothing, yet intrigued one to the point of obsession.

  He would have issued a prayer to control his thoughts, yet Keldwyn's gaze shifted to him and the prayer that came to mind had little to do with control. The Fae's smile disappeared. It was a personal acknowledgement to Uthe, one that swept heat through his body and reminded him of their last encounter. Sometimes he wished vampires didn't heal so quickly. He might have liked to feel those bruises longer, the ones Keldwyn had inflicted when they tumbled down the stairs together.

  He didn't remove his gaze from the Fae Lord, not until Keldwyn's own attention had to shift at something the Fae Queen said to him. Uthe managed that prayer then, and forced his gaze back to Lyssa.

  She'd dismounted into Jacob's arms. Rhoswen accepted the same help from her captain. Interesting. Uthe noted there was more there than guardsman and queen, if her lingering touch on his biceps and the heat under what was otherwise a respectful gaze on his part were any indication.

  As the entourage came their way, Uthe began to move forward, drawing the other Council members with him. Cayden spoke a word to the horses. The animals turned, breaking into a trot to disappear back into the forest. It dispelled Uthe's wonder about whether Jacob and Ingram had made provisions to stable horses. Lyssa's servant and her majordomo were rarely caught unawares, so he was sure it had been considered.

  Lyssa gestured Uthe forward. "My sister, may I present my right hand on the Council, Lord Uthe. I'm sure Keldwyn has spoken of him."

  "With high regard," Queen Rhoswen said. Her blue eyes were multifaceted, as potent as magic crystals. She put out a hand and Uthe moved to take it, bend over it with courtly courtesy. His grip closed gently over the pale fingers and...

  Desert heat. A battle. Jacques at risk, and only one choice. The dagger was in his hand. It must be thrown, no matter the consequences, even though Hugh's words were screaming through his mind.

  You must always stand apart. Never give your heart and soul to any other but God, for you are the guardian of life itself, of the future of our world and any other...

  A woman whispered in Uthe's ear, her voice an unexpectedly masculine rasp. He is right. When the time is right, you will remember again, you will know all in a blink, and your way will be clear...

  His left knee buckled beneath him. Fortunately, he neither tightened his grip, which might have yanked the Queen down with him, nor did he let go, so it passed as a somewhat dramatically polite gesture of bending to one knee before the Fae Queen. Curious but not wrong. He was sure Lyssa's brow raised in surprise at his excessive courtesy.

  But while his own queen might let it pass as mere eccentricity, the person he was touching was a creature of great magical power. She noticed far more than that. Rhoswen's hand was on his face, lifting it, her blue eyes staring into his. Ah, blessed Savior, she recognized him, of course she did. By the Virgin Mary, why now? Why all these centuries later?

  He knew exactly why. It is ready. The internal earthquake he was experiencing knocked the meaning loose from his mind like treasure from a jagged crevice, bringing a shower of gravel with it, stray bits of thoughts and words that only increased his disorientation. He had to use his formidable discipline to sweep it out of the way, to stand atop the heaving mass and appear as if he were standing on solid ground. Maybe that was how Jesus had done it with water. Sheer will, though he didn't think the Great Teacher had been motivated by the concern Uthe had now, that he was about to set Fae and vampire relations back irrevocably.

  Keldwyn was next to him. With the Fae Lord having such an excellent poker face, it was a matter of identifying his different masks, seeking tells which t
old Uthe the true feelings happening beneath. Right now, Keldwyn was probably wondering what the hell was going on with him. That made two of them. His knees were like water. If he passed out at the Fae Queen's feet, the breach of etiquette would be unclassifiable.

  Even more importantly, he'd have passed the salt shaker to Belizar and the Russian would use it liberally. The humor helped steady him.

  Keldwyn stood at his back now, his hand on Uthe's shoulder giving him the energy to rise without looking like the Fae Lord was hauling him back to a standing position.

  "We shall have a conversation later tonight, you and I," Rhoswen said. Then she turned away, to answer the other introductions Lyssa was making. Uthe saw Lyssa's speculative look before she turned her focus in the same direction, thankfully. Keldwyn did not. He shifted closer to Uthe, thigh pressed to the side of his own.

  "You are well, my lord?" Keldwyn spoke low. When he brushed his hand against Uthe's, Uthe realized his was clenched. As he eased the grip, he found his fingers were shaking.

  "Yes, Lord Keldwyn. Perhaps I did not feed well enough, with all the work involved in your Queen's arrival. I'll attend to it as soon as possible."

  He stepped back, leaving Keldwyn with the two queens. He should stay in the midst of the introductions, absorbing all that was happening. But if he was forced to choose a moment to collect himself, he was not as essential right now as he would be when they had their honorary session in Council chambers later. Right now his mind was a movie reel turned on fast forward, a flash of images rushing through, things he knew but had been locked away.

  The dagger. Though he was certain it was where it always was, he needed to verify its whereabouts, close his fingers on it, let it steady him in his purpose. Muttering a quiet explanation to Lady Helga that he needed to check on something, he excused himself to return to the house. He would have used vampire speed to get back to his rooms, to give him the maximum amount of private time, but he found that dizzy sensation wasn't going to permit that unless he wanted to risk bouncing himself off a few solid surfaces between here and there. So he hurried as best he could and, once he was in his suite, he closed and locked his door. Going to the chest, he opened it, removing the interior compartments until he reached the false bottom. Carefully, he withdrew the item he sought. It had been wrapped in black silk with reverence, and he opened it the same way now.

  As soon as he closed his hand on the wire-and leather-wrapped hilt, the thrum of that power and knowledge went through him, steadying him, holding him. His mission, what God had charged him to do. It made him feel strangely desolate, though. The flash of images he'd received when he touched Rhoswen's hand had unfolded the years, the remembered and not-remembered things. Yet what if he was still missing something critical, something that had left a hole in his heart and mind? If there was more that had been hidden from him by design, the pieces of the puzzle dropping into place at the appropriate moment, he could accept that as God's will and have faith that things would be provided when needed. But he worried there was a factor none of them had counted upon. Had his mind lost those pieces, never to be returned?

  A dark dread filled him. To think he had had knowledge not long ago, that was now missing... That could affect many things, too many things that were important. He could no longer put it off. It was time to leave before he caused irreparable harm. His reaction to Keldwyn was proof of it. He saw Keldwyn's eyes watching him, the set of his mouth as he tried to understand Uthe. Uthe had begun to take too much pleasure in being that puzzle for him, and indulging the same fascination with the Fae.

  As he'd always done whenever he was conflicted, he stayed on his knees and opened his heart, asking for guidance. But what if he didn't remember tomorrow what he was told today? Lord help me, if it be Thy Will. Let neither fear nor pride keep me from Your path.

  Do you speak to your God out of fear of your past, or out of true love and belief?

  Does it matter to Him, as long as I serve His Will?

  It had been years since he'd remembered that conversation with Hugh. The founder of the Templar Order had called him to his quarters. King Baldwin II had given the Order the section of the Temple Mount presumably built over the ruins of Solomon's Palace. Before the First Crusaders took back Jerusalem, it had been the al-Asqa mosque. Since the Templars had no other lucrative benefactors then, there'd been no money for the Poor Knights of Christ to maintain the structure. Hugh had been sitting on the stump of a broken pillar, using a slab of jagged rock as a table.

  Though he'd asked Uthe to join him, he'd said nothing to him for nearly an hour. He'd sharpened his sword, cleaned his armor, and written some correspondence. Then he'd sat back and studied Uthe as if he was a wall of incomprehensible text. Yet Uthe remembered Hugh didn't look concerned that he couldn't immediately decipher the mystery that was Uthe. Because of the penetrating power of that regard, the strength of the faith behind it, Uthe had eventually been the one who spoke. He told him everything.

  He'd wept, asked for mercy. The torment of his soul was unrelenting and, since he did not have the resolve to take his own life, he had to find another solution. As he knelt in Hugh's presence and made his spontaneous confession, he'd felt a sliver of hope. It didn't matter if Hugh decided to stake him there or had other plans for him; his quiet listening had been a balm to Uthe's soul. That sliver of hope was like what he'd felt when he'd first closed his hand on the dagger he held now, as if its original owner had left that quality sealed into the blade and hilt. He'd left other powers in it, but that was the one that Uthe had valued the most.

  It is ready. He now knew what that meant. He saw the sorceress's aged face in his mind. How long had it been since he'd seen her? Ten years? He had to leave, not because of his fear, but because it was time. He would start the preparations. He could do that without abandoning the responsibilities expected of him tonight. The two things were not incompatible.

  Calmer now, he put the dagger away and rose, straightening his clothes. Without Mariela, he couldn't tell if anything was mussed that only a mirror could show, but when he returned to the others, she would let him know if anything was out of place. God bless her.

  * * *

  "Lord Brian." Uthe gave the blond-haired, green-eyed vampire a cordial nod as he moved to stand beside him. Brian looked like he was studying for an exam, his eyes narrowed on the scene before them. "It's rather remarkable, isn't it?"

  Together they watched the elegant swirl of those dancing in the ball room. So far the vampires and Fae had swapped off dance styles. The Fae version of the waltz was similar to theirs, albeit a bit more acrobatic. If Helga introduced them to disco dancing, Uthe expected it was going to get even more interesting.

  "The chance to observe the Fae up close like this, even a subset of them, is all that and more." The vampire couldn't contain his enthusiasm. "I wish I could obtain a sample of their blood. Lord Keldwyn has graciously given me a strand of hair, but there is so much more I could do with blood."

  "Have you asked him for it?"

  "No." The vampire male was young, not even a century old, but he'd convinced the Council of the necessity for scientific research for the survival of their species. Rather than being interested in politics and power hierarchies, Brian pursued remedies for their few weaknesses, like their inability to expose themselves to sunlight. While he'd made no advances on that yet, he'd already figured out how to safely separate a third mark from a vampire when the vampire deemed them incompatible, a problem that in the past could only be resolved by killing the servant. He'd also made some intriguing connections between the fertility of vampires and the depth of relationship between vampire and servant. He currently headed up the research facility that was based out of the Savannah estate and oversaw the sister center in Berlin.

  His exceptional maturity was occasionally flavored by a charming academic obliviousness, evident now in the frustration creasing his fair brow. "I know it's a debasement to them, to give blood to one of us for drinking. I thought
it might be considered an equal insult to ask for it as a sample. Though from Lord Keldwyn's expression when he gave me the hair, I think he expected me to make that misstep."

  "Perhaps he has already deduced your love of knowledge often outpaces your good sense," Uthe said genially, putting his hand on the male's shoulder. Brian's servant and fellow researcher, Debra, stood a few paces away. The servants stood equidistant along the ballroom walls, waiting in patient attendance if their vampires needed anything. Over the past few months, it seemed Debra and Brian's relationship had changed in some key way, for Uthe thought she looked happier, more content. Less tired.

  Brian seemed to have a heightened awareness of her as well. A vampire did not have to look at his servant to know her whereabouts, because their blood connection made him aware of that at all times. Still, Brian seemed to enjoy glancing her way more often than usual. His almost possessive regard showed blatant male appreciation for her slim form, clad in a sequined blue sheath that stopped at mid-thigh. Debra always wore classic fashions, less revealing than most servants, but ones which highlighted her attributes well.

  Uthe had noticed the change in their relationship soon after she and Brian had made the discovery there was an undeniable correlation between fertility rates and the closeness of the bond between vampire and servant. Though the more formal, traditional vampire-servant relationships like his and Mariela's had resulted in pregnancies, Brian and Debra's research had shown the birthrate was greater among vampires and servants like Lyssa and Jacob who shared a far deeper bond.

  Well, it would make sense that the scientist would act on his own research, though Uthe suspected if the feelings between Brian and his servant hadn't already been there, dormant but waiting, they couldn't have been acted upon so quickly.

  He didn't indulge sentiment often, which made it strange that he was glad for the new bond between them, that closeness. He also experienced a yearning he couldn't quite define, as if he were lonely for the same experience. Which brought a desire to see where Keldwyn was.