Much Fall of Blood-ARC (73 page)

"Ah, good. The first condition is met. They are innocent of purpose."

"Pure of heart."

"But what is it?" asked Dana.

"We swear that it is good for the land."

"But not without pain and price."

It was hard to tell just from whom the words came. They seemed to come out of the very air itself, and echo around the circle of strange creatures. Vlad's mind knew he should be afraid, or if not afraid, certainly aghast at these beings that were not even out of the stories he had read or been told. Vlad's heart knew better.

"Then the second question: are you willing, children of man?" Now it was only the two wyverns speaking.

Dana looked at Vlad, and he at her. The unspoken communication was made, and Vlad was desperately glad to have her there.

The shadow covered the moon and they were bathed in a bloody light.

"Yes," said Vlad.

Dana hesitated a moment longer. "Yes."

"And you, Faragas, King of the wolves?" asked the wyverns together.

"Always. It's blood," said Angelo grinning toothily.

"And you, Leshy, lord of the forest?"

His voice was like the cracking of branches. "With him, yes."

"And you, Zem, lord of stone."

"Both. The man for stone, the woman for earth." rumbled the stone-giant.

"That's different," said the Wolf.

"And you Voda? Queen of the ancient river?"

"She never agrees. The first compact was made because of her. The men of the river came to us, after we had made our bargain," whispered Angelo.

"Yes," said Voda, her voice the sound of many rivers, "this time we will agree. To her anyway."

The wyvern flicked their claws out. "And we, for fire and air, we will bind ourselves. Let the blood flow. And let us share blood together."

"But what do we have to do?" asked Vlad, still expecting—and dreading—some form of sacrifice.

"Willing but innocent," said the one Wyvern.

"And very stupid," said the other.

Dana stamped her foot, and they both looked at her, mouths agape with silent laughter. Vlad's mind still dreaded, but his heart eased.

The wyverns dipped their heads, sharp amusement still in their eyes. "We share blood. Blood from each other's veins, and bind ourselves into the protection of the others."

"Each of the lords of the non-humans gives up some of their power to the human lord, and the human in turn binds himself to us, and to our protection. The blood that runs in your veins is a product of that, anyway." explained the Wolf king. "That is where you get your strength, your resistance to poisons, your ability to tolerate fire, and your fine hearing and smell from. The last part is from us," he added, with a hint of pride.

"Except there is a woman this time, at last. And the waters will bind to her," said Voda. "That will give you power over flow, and those within our rule. There are those who walk outside it."

"Come. It is time," said the wyverns impatiently. "Where is the grail?"

"At your feet," said the wolf." pointing to a stone chalice.

"I thought it was just a bowl," said Dana

"It is. What else is the grail?" said the wolf.

"Come closer, so that we can make you bleed," said the Wyvern showing talons and teeth that could take a man's head off.

"Er. I have a sharp knife."

"No metals. Only talon and tooth allowed." The wyverns smiled toothily. "Trust us."

Vlad understood now, finally, that that was actually what this was all about. About trust. So he held out his wrist. As did the others.

The claws were sharp

"Press it together with mine," said Angelo.

Wolf-blood flowed in his veins. And then he did the same with Leshy. With Zem. And with each Wyvern in turn. With each new mingling the blood in his veins tingled with more and different power, and he began to feel things that he had no words for. It was intoxicating. He wondered if this was how other men felt when they were drunk.

The river-queen withheld. But she'd shared with Dana. Then they held their wrists over the grail, and the blood mingled, shimmered and then began to glow.

Or it could just have been that the eclipse was over.

And then-—he bowl was empty.

"They thought it must have a hole in it the first time," said Angelo."It has been shared. For some reason, you men. ."

"You humans," put in the queen of the rivers. "Not men."

"Humans," said the wolf, "Share it with the land, not your kind. The land in turn shares its strength with you. You—and those of your blood, and it gets spread around—will always be strongest here, in ancient Valahia. And you can staunch the bleeding now. We can go back to sled, and out of the wind."

The Leshy was the first to leave, bowing and walking away, becoming taller as he went.

"They hate being awake in winter. Only the pines are really available then."

The stone giant groaned to his feet. Soon he was just another rocky outcrop.

The river-woman looked at Dana. "You could bring us back toward the old order, you know."

"You never give up, do you?" said the wolf.

"No. Water wears down all things in time," and then she too was gone.

"She's weaker now. The flow was much more powerful once. But the Rhine is stealing her water," said the wolf. He looked at the two wyverns. "I believe we have a buck or two back at the camp. Shall we go?"

They went.

* * *

"You wanted us afraid," said Dana, a bit resentfully.

"Afraid and yet prepared to trust us. And to sacrifice yourselves if necessary for the greater good. The rest of us are constrained to be there. We cannot refuse to be there. But mortals must come of their own free will. So they must be afraid, yes."

"But I was constrained," said Vlad. "I have felt this place drawing me for, oh, months."

The King of the Wolves shrugged. "It comes of mixing the blood. You are born a little like us, and we, a little like you."

"But why?"

"The story goes thus. Who knows if it is true: 'A man and the king of wolves were once trapped by a blizzard in cave near the stones. The wolf had a broken leg from falling in with his prey. The man—his wife was a priestess of the river, and he was as near to a chief as she would let him be—had come out die. He too had fallen in, and was cut and concussed.

The man wanted to die. To walk away from the river then, was to die. The forest was Leshy's, and he suffered no humans lightly. Leshy and his tree-folk misled and starved those that tried. The mountains were Zem's domain. The old ones were very powerful then, and their fey followers more numerous than men. Only wolves roamed both forest and heath. But humans . . . They had a compact with the Queen of the river. They worshiped her. Carved statues in the sandstone and kept them behind the hearth. And she gave them fish and some safety. Some safety . . . yet the women of the water—you would call them the Rusalka, or the Vila—had taken his son. And then his young daughter too. The boy had been a handsome man, and the Vila like those. She had been pregnant against the wishes of her family; the Rusalka preyed upon such unhappy girls.

His wife kept the river goddess's stones behind the hearth. But the river queen did nothing. She let the children be taken, because the Vila are not hers, the Rusalka are not hers. They are magical creatures that breathe air not water, creatures of forest and water, and thereby answering to neither.

The man was desperate, unhappy and afraid. Unhappy enough to talk with a wolf. The wolf listened. The man talked more. And after a while he came over to the wolf and splinted the wolf's leg. They shared blood in the process. They could hardly otherwise. The wolf could have, should have, ripped his throat out. They both would have died. Instead the man made fire, butchered the buck with his stone knife. They ate and waited out the storm. And then the man built a ramp so they could walk out. And the king of wolves saw the man was walking into Leshy's domain again, to die. So he brought him back. Back here. And, as he had hunted with the wyverns, so he brought them here too. They hauled stones—a ring of stones—so that they could sit on them and talk."

"Wolves don't talk," said Dana.

"They don't share caves or allow men to tend their wounds either. This was the king of wolves. Now do you want the story or not?"

Dana put her finger to lips and nodded.

"That was a magical place and a magical time. They had shared blood. Become more like each other. The man did not want to live by the river and eat fish and lose his children to it. He wanted to run in the forest and hunt deer. And the wolf had learned too: he wanted fire-warmth in winter. And already men were cutting their way into those forests.

The wyvern called the kings of the forest, the mountains, and the queen of the water to that place. And told them what these two had done. He was wise in the workings of magic, and could read the signs in the dance of heaven. He told the others what was coming, and that they should make a bargain—which would let the man roam free . . . but would also preserve the rest of them.

The forest and mountains made the bargain. The river would not. But it was laid upon them, then, that they should return to this place periodically—and in those days the only measure of time was the moon, the eclipses, to see if they would share blood again."

There was a silence. "The Queen of the river never has before."

The king of the Wolves, Angelo F g ras, looked at them in the unblinking way of wolves. "We thought we had two possible chances. You, or him. We did not understand then. The lord of the forest will make no pact with women, and the queen of the river no pact with men."

Vlad and his sister looked . . . different. Erik could not quite put his finger on how, but they both seemed more confident after the two days that they'd been away with the gypsies.

Both he and Manfred tried asking what had happened, but got polite variants of: "I really can't say. Please don't ask me. But it was good and it was important."

They returned to Elizabeth's castle, by Vlad's request.

"I think," he said to Dana, "that it should be destroyed."

She nodded. "Utterly."

They walked up to the building. Put their hands on it. And turned and walked away . . . quite fast.

"I think . . . we should gallop."

Glancing back, Erik saw that the castle was on fire. And then an earth tremor nearly shook them off their horses.

"God has fix bad place," said the Székely Primore in poor Mongol, looking back.

"You might say that," agreed Erik. But privately he suspected the cause was nearer at hand. Whatever Vlad and his sister had done—and in his precise bodyguard's way, he noted bandages on their wrists—he suspected that foes really didn't want to invade their territory.

It was interesting how Vlad had made his younger sister a de facto co-ruler. They did almost nothing without discussion. Or at least an exchange of glances.

* * *

They rode southwest for the meeting that was scheduled with the master of Irongate.

Erik noticed that they had wolves scouting for them now, as well as a small gypsy contingent, riding along. The little deception amused him. Being in Venice, and then around Benito and Maria . . .had changed him too. Really there was only good and evil, and the forms it took mattered not at all so long as you knew which was which.

Emeric had expected to find Ban Ilescu frightened and homeless . . . if alive. What he had not expected was to find Ban Ilescu, frightened, homeless . . . and sitting with a field army of his boyars and all their retainers, with intent to kill someone. Emeric had more troops—by far—than the Ban. What he didn't have was them right there.

"My castle. My jewel . . . has been taken over by . . . If I am to believe the idiots, blood drinking naked women from the the river," snarled Ban. "What sorcery is this?"

Emeric met question with question. "What are you doing here with an army?"

"I expect Prince Vlad. I had set a trap for him. I was going to make an end to him," said the Ban, grimly.

"Oh." That put a different complexion on the Vila having seized Irongate.

"He has stolen a march on me by sending his demons to take Irongate. And if these fools get to hear of it, he may defeat me yet. I had the survivors executed before the story spread." The Ban looked gloomy. "If he really has this sort of power, I had better make my submission. And you too, I think," he said to his overlord.

Emeric was shocked almost rigid by this forthright speech. It wasn't derogatory . . . it was just matter of fact. It infuriated him. And then he remembered where he was, and the small number of troops he had at his immediate disposal. He could kill this man . . . if he could reach him. The Ban was standing a good safe distance off. With difficulty, he controlled himself. "I have sorcerous powers at my disposal too. I will deal with these Vila. After you have dealt with Vlad."

The Ban gave a nod. But it was a very curt nod.

"I will await you in Orsova castle. Bring me his head," said Emeric, choosing to ignore what he did not wish to see.

* * *

'If you are going to a rendezvous with someone you don't trust, be there early,' Manfred had said. Well, they had two days in hand. So Vlad sent scouts, scouts whose ability to move in the dark and undetected was far better than most humans. They'd had warning. It appeared that the towns did not like Ban Ilescu.

"There are thousands of men camped in the forest," reported Radu.

"He has mobilized his boyars, Drac. Just as they warned us in Bucova."

"You can't believe everything you hear," said Vlad. "They also said he'd filled his fortress in the Dunrea with man-devouring drowned women, and that he killed everyone who tried to speak of it. They say worse things about me, up north."

"Oh, down here too," said the Primore, cheerfully. "They want you to be terrible Drac. To terrify children, or their enemies, depending on how close the enemies are, or how bad the children are being."

"What sort of forest is it, Radu?" asked Dana.