To Dream of Dreamers Lost: Book 3 of The Grails Covenant Trilogy

by David Niall Wilson

  Gustav nodded. “Are you certain that none of our own demons will slip through this time?” he asked. “Montrovant is no fool, and there are others. I doubt that the Church has entrusted the entire chase to the dark one. There is no telling who will end up in our courtyard.”

  “That is the beauty of it all, is it not?” Kodesh said brightly. “The not knowing. There are so few things in life that I do not know, so few events I cannot predict. I even have a good idea how all of this will end up, though I have high hopes of being disappointed.”

  Gustav decided to ignore this. “The vaults are sealed tightly,” he went on. “The towers are fortified, and the men armed. This keep is more a fortress than anything else. The framework was built by one of the local lords down below. He wanted to have a commanding view of his holdings. There was not enough labor available, and he was killed before construction could be completed. We improved on his design.”

  “The entire lower level of the keep is a single huge vault. Within those walls are more walls, and within those still more. Each is protected by traps, and guardians. We have learned a great deal over the years, shunning nothing of value.”

  Kodesh nodded. “I know how the boredom of the years can make the mundane enticing,” he said softly. “I want to see the vaults, and to see the artifacts. We will place our friend here,” he patted his pocket, where the vial still rested, “with his treasures, as is fitting.”

  Gustav rose, clapping his hands twice, and two cowled figures stepped from the shadows. “They will show you the vaults,” he said softly. “I do not go near the artifacts if I can help it. The temptation to release their power is too great.”

  Kodesh laughed. “You are too cautious, old friend,” he said with glee. “Power is meant to be unleashed, that is its nature. The longer you bottle it, much like curiosity, the more pressure builds for the eventual release.”

  “I will let it build a while longer, I believe,” Gustav said, chuckling.

  Kodesh turned with a shrug, following the hooded figures down the long hall again. Gustav sat in his chair, behind the huge desk, watching the thin, crazed apparition depart. So many years. It seemed an eternity since Kli Kodesh had shared his blood, and his curse, with Gustav and the others. Gustav had been old already, but his followers had been Embraced only that night. The old Nosferatu often wondered what had become of the progeny he’d left behind.

  Now his existence was a never-ending string of puzzles and games. There were many besides Montrovant who sought one or another of the treasures he guarded. There were those, as well, who believed that the objects they sought were in Gustav’s control. He himself had no true inkling of everything that had been entrusted to him. There was no inventory. There was no way to be in the presence of so many objects of power for any length of time. It corrupted. The strongest of convictions paled when the mere chanting of a few ancient words could bring about ultimate change.

  Gustav had lived, and died, and walked the Earth again. Even that had not been the end of his journey. He’d been Embraced by an elder Nosferatu, a vampire killed eventually in a skirmish with Kli Kodesh. From that moment on, Gustav, and his own, had followed Kodesh and his “entertainments.” He could not have explained why. There was no bond, not like the blood. Kodesh had not been his sire, nor had he drained that ancient upon killing him, as Gustav would have. It was something else, a hint of mystery, and of power.

  Then the question of loyalty had been erased forever. One dark night, just outside Jerusalem, as Montrovant had fought his own battles with the Egyptian, Santos, Kodesh and the Nosferatu had waylaid a group of knights on their way to the Holy Land. They had fed on each of them, Embracing them, and Kodesh had given each a taste of his own blood. Blood so old, so powerful, that the scent had maddened Gustav, nearly stealing his senses.

  Until it was offered to him as well. He was chosen to lead this new band. He was to leave all those he’d known, take this band of new, untested followers on a journey of immense proportion and import. They carried secrets and treasures so old and so powerful that they had fallen into legend, and beyond. Things so old that none remembered the people who had wielded them, let alone the stories behind them. And other things. Many of the treasures Santos had collected and guarded came from the early Christian era. Not so old as others, but carrying immense power drawn from the belief and worship of thousands. There were talismans, bits of the flesh of ancient priests and martyrs, scrolls, objects touched and blessed by men long crumbled to dust.

  And there were rumors of other things. Of the Holy Grail, the Ark of the Covenant. Many of the items were boxed and packaged, sealed to prevent their influence over those who guarded them. It was a Pandora’s box of magic and corruption.

  Gustav kept his distance. It was one thing to know the powers that were under his protection, but quite another to dream of those that might be. He had not seen the light of day in several hundred years. He had not felt breath in his lungs, or blood he could call his own in that same time.

  Kli Kodesh’s blood had returned a rotted semblance of these to him, but this only served to cause further pain. He could rise earlier than most of his kind, and remain upright and coherent longer as the sun rose. He could go long, almost interminable periods without feeding. That bloodlust, the desire to feed and rend, to hunt, that had been the one thrill left to him. Kodesh had removed it, leaving him nearly immortal on the earth, with a single purpose: to guard the objects entrusted to him, and to do as Kodesh bid. These were small recompense for centuries of boredom, but the Blood Oath was complete. He could not ignore Kodesh’s commands.

  He watched until his men and the old one were gone from sight, then moved to the hall and turned to the left, making his way to a winding stairway leading up to the walls of the keep. He knew that the dark one would not be far behind. Kodesh would not show himself unless there was something to be done, or seen, a new thing to be experienced. It was the ancient vampire’s nature to seek out that which could ease the perpetual boredom of his existence.

  The night had fallen fully, and Gustav moved out onto the wall, gazing down the road into the shadows. So much had changed. The arrangement with Rome had provided a measure of security for a number of years, but at the same time, the constant vigilance of Montrovant and the lack of activity had been stifling. Nothing had changed during that time. There were those who approached the Order, young Cainites with their own stories, a bit of something to add, but nothing of substance. Gustav had been ready to slip out one day, slide into the earth, and rest for eternity. Nothing was worth that kind of stagnancy.

  The order to move, at last, had seemed a godsend. Gustav had been traveling back and forth from their old mountain hideaway to this keep for decades. He had planned each step of the reconstruction, been there when the stone walls were laid between the layers of the vault. He had picked and purchased the decorations, what furnishings were provided.

  The library was one of the most fully stocked in the world. He had scrolls and tomes from every society that had walked the Earth, and a few in question. He had secrets that should have died with those who discovered them. He had read words in tongues long withered from the memory of men, and still there was nothing to hold his interest.

  Only action served Gustav, and at long last there was action brewing on his horizon. Montrovant was no match for Kli Kodesh, but Gustav knew his master would exclude himself from what was to come if it was possible. It would be a matter left to Gustav and his followers. The old one would sit back and watch, waiting to see how much entertainment could be gleaned from the conflict.

  That was fine with Gustav. He was ready for something different. If it was the last such thing ever to happen in his long years of existence, that was fine as well. The alternative was that he would remain in this keep, alone with his followers, until the world rotted around him, or another came along to attempt to claim the duties and make off with that which he guarded.

  So many things he would have traded for a re
turn to times past. He moved along the wall slowly, nodding to the guards as he passed them, slipping around the corner of the wall and away in silence.

  Kli Kodesh moved through the stone doors quickly. They had slid open at the soft touch of his guide’s hand in a certain sequence against the stones of the wall. The old one memorized that sequence quickly. He needed to know that he could access that which he controlled. They moved inward, and a few feet beyond the stone doors, the guide’s hand returned to the wall, opposite side, and another sequence of stones was pressed. The door slid open silently, huge stone slabs slipping to the sides with no more evidence of their passing than if a fly had landed on his cloak. Again he watched carefully.

  There were four levels of security in all. Each time they moved inward he matched the pattern of the other’s steps. There were traps planted, this he knew. Concentrating, he let his mind grow blank, redirected his thoughts to his physical senses. He could sense the potential danger of the trip mechanisms, and though he did not know their exact nature, he knew enough to be certain they were designed to guard against both mortal and undead intrusion.

  The final portal slid wide, and he entered the inner vault. The same wagons that had transported the goods to the keep had been rolled inside. The wide passageways of the keep itself and the huge stone doors had facilitated this passage. The treasures themselves, many packed away from air and the sight of man for so many years their packing had rotted away around them, were still tucked safely in the wooden crates that had transported them since their exodus from Jerusalem so many years before.

  Santos had been an excellent guardian. Gustav did him one better. While Santos had been created to guard the treasures, he had had no desire to use them himself. He had his own powers and his own artifacts, some he’d designed, others he’d taken from those who’d tested him through the years. The secrets he’d guarded were sacred to him.

  Gustav was different. The old Nosferatu was so careful not to be tempted, so worried that he would slip and break his trust, that the treasures were not even unpacked. Kli Kodesh had seen most of them at one time or another. He had a good idea what the cache held, what sort of chaos that horde of secrets and power could unleash upon the earth if it was released. The tension this created made it so much more delicious to Kodesh.

  He had hoped, actually, that his protégé might slip. He had wondered for years how much more fun the world might be if some of the old powers were unleashed. Gustav had proven stronger than he’d believed. The treasures were intact, and now he moved forward, wrapping the vial carefully in a bit of silk from the packing material, and laying it on its side among the rest.

  “Farewell, old friend,” he said softly, moving back and smiling at the guards. He made a quick circuit of the stone chamber, checking each wall, seeing how strong and complete the they were, then moving back toward the entrance.

  He turned without a word, backtracking through the maze of trips and traps without a hitch. The two who’d led him to the vault followed as quickly as they could, watching his retreating form with concern. They were to guide him, but he seemed oblivious to their existence. It was obvious that his one trip through their security had been enough to etch it in his memory.

  Kodesh made his way to the main passageway, and, sensing Gustav’s presence above him, made his own way up toward the walls. The dawn was not far away, but there was enough time remaining to him for a few moments’ meditation. He was not so much in fear of the sun as the others. The blood hunger did not sing in his veins…he could take or leave the feeding. He had walked the Earth for so long that very little could be offered to catch his interest, and the curse he bore had robbed him even of the pleasure of the blood. The curse, and the years.

  He did not follow Gustav, but instead stepped up onto the wall and turned, leaping to the walls of the keep and climbing, hand over hand, until he’d reached the highest point of stone. Here he sat, staring out at the shadows, thinking. His eyes closed slowly, and his mind grew blank, seeking, stretching out his senses. He knew they would come, knew them as well as he knew his own mind.

  Montrovant. The dark one would come as surely as the sun would rise, his progeny in tow. The Church had its own emissaries on the roads, both Damned and living, and as Kli Kodesh stretched his awareness, he became aware of that other.

  His eyes popped open for a moment, and a slow smile crept over his face. “Noirceuil,” he muttered with glee. Such a long time, and he’d not been aware that particular Cainite still walked the road of the Earth. It seemed so unlikely, given his particular habits.

  Then his eyes closed again, and he did not move until the first fingers of dawn’s light slid over his legs, itching at his skin and drawing him from his reverie.

  As he climbed down, seeking the shadows and protection of the keep, he smiled again. “Noirceuil. Oh, this is so sweet.”

  Then he disappeared into the depths of the keep, and silence reigned.

  FOURTEEN

  Montrovant and his men came to a fork in the road two nights away from the forest. The left fork wound down into a small valley, and the right snaked up the mountain into mist and shadows. He stopped at that crossroad, staring upward, letting his mind go blank. He knew it was the way. There was no other place nearby, no way he could be tricked into the wrong turn. Yet he hesitated.

  Kli Kodesh was behind it all. He had been behind it all from the beginning. Sometimes Montrovant wondered if the old one had even been behind his own determination to follow what had turned into a fool’s quest for so many years. He watched the weatherbeaten trail, his horse shifting slightly beneath his weight, then turned to Jeanne.

  “The Order will be there, but they are not going anywhere,” he said. “I think we would be best served by a short visit to the village below. We have not fed in two nights, and the others are growing weary. Tired men are careless men, and we cannot afford to be careless. Not now.”

  Jeanne grinned back at him. “I was thinking much the same thing, but did not know how you would take such a suggestion. You are right, though. If there is one ally that serves us now as it has always served us, it is time. Neither Gustav, nor Kli Kodesh is in danger of succumbing to old age. The artifacts, and the Grail itself, are timeless.”

  Montrovant turned to the others. “We will spend this night, tomorrow, and possibly another night beyond that in the village. St. Fond, ride ahead and have quarters prepared, see to the service of our mounts. Have the innkeeper prepare food and wine. Our time on the road may be near an end, and we need our strength, and our wits, for what is to come.”

  There were murmurs of assent, and a general appreciative rumble at his words. The road was a place they all felt comfortable, but part of the appeal of the road was the wine, women, and food awaiting them at its end. If Montrovant was going to allow them that space, it would be savored and appreciated, binding each to him a bit more fully than he had been before.

  Montrovant took the left fork and pressed his horse to a slow canter, heading down to where white spirals of smoke showed the boundaries of the village. St. Fond took off at a faster pace, widening the gap between himself and the main party rapidly and soon disappearing from sight altogether. Jeanne watched him go, considering for a long moment taking off after the knight and joining him.

  He could sense that they were near mortals, could almost taste the hot blood on his lips. Two nights was not a horribly long time for him to have gone without feeding. He’d been longer, but for some reason the knowledge of what was to come was spurring him onward, increasing the appeal. Jeanne loved battle. He lived for the red haze that robbed him of everything but the moment. He had the berserker’s blood in his soul; his Embrace had not cost him that, but had heightened it. He was not himself once the battle was joined. It was a hunger skewed slightly from the ache that had shivered through his veins since his death. He felt the imminence of fate. He felt powers larger than those he commanded at work, pieces fitting together, and it was all building to a focus of
energy that permeated the air. That aura of coming change built within his mind and his thoughts, and it charged his senses, feeding the hunger.

  He followed closely behind Montrovant, who was leading the small group slowly down the mountain, and he noted with a quick smile how the dark one shifted in his own saddle. They held their pace for a while, as though to give in to the urge for speed would be a sign of weakness, but in the end it was too much, even, for Montrovant. They sped their slow progress to a canter, and then a slow gallop, rushing down the softly rolling hills in a tight pack.

  As they neared the break in the trees and brush that signaled the border of the small village, Montrovant reined in a bit, slowing to a trot. There was no sense bursting into the village like an angry mob. It was enough that they approached openly. If any came searching, or if they ran into any of Gustav’s spies, then their cover was blown.

  Montrovant did not seem to be concerned any longer with secrecy. From the moment he’d glanced up that trail to the mountains he’d acted differently, his eyes shining, his step more lively. The dark one was not afraid of Gustav, or his Nosferatu. He was not concerned with the how of getting into whatever safe house Kli Kodesh had dreamed up. He was already holding the Grail in his hand as far as he was concerned, his arrogance peaking. This was the moment he’d been born for, and he was loving it, reveling in the excitement.

  Jeanne knew that, as usual, he would have to be the practical one. When the trouble started, and their enemies surrounded them, it was Jeanne who would watch the rear, who would seek the safe route through whatever maze presented itself. Montrovant would be the one to charge through that opening, and the trick was to point the dark one in the right direction before he led them into a trap.

  Jeanne had no illusions of their destined success. Kli Kodesh was the most ancient vampire he had encountered, so old that the things Jeanne knew as true for himself and Montrovant did not apply in the same way when you thought of him. Gustav himself was not young to the Blood, and they had come across both characters enough times in the past to know that whatever was to take place on that mountain, it would not be simple, if it was possible at all, to break through to where whatever was being kept by the Order was stashed.