The Geomancer (10 page)

“I've been burned before.” He stood rooted. “Do what you're going to do, I'll be here.”

Adele shook her head at his obstinacy but in the wake of her own there was little she could argue against. Then she tossed him the talisman before sinking onto her knee. Fighting down growing apprehension, she pressed her hands onto the frozen ground.

Immediately, she tasted bile. The colors and sounds that wafted from a nearby rift were different, muted. She felt a surge of rage at the foul stench and garish blasts of light. Instead of warm comfort, she was met by raucous pollution. A stain of black sludge undulated in a turbulent sea. With teeth clamped, Adele pushed deeper into the disturbing mire. She couldn't keep her sense of direction. The anchoring cold air from above was gone. Lances of light seared her skin and her ears throbbed with the beating of her heart.

Battling the cacophony around her that threatened to pummel her senseless, Adele reached out for the lines of the Earth's power. She could sense them around her, but they were jagged and twisted into a thicket. She took them in hand, and shouted with pain as the lines cut deep into her palms. The threads jerked away, quivering and rabid, dripping with her blood.

Adele dared another step deeper into the terror. She saw a rift slashing back and forth, fearful of her approach. She seized it and it jerked against her grip. A razor sliced deep into her hand, tearing through the flesh and muscle and wedging against the bones. Adele nearly blacked out from the agony, but she traced the line even so. She could feel its wildness, its lunacy. It was dying and fighting against whatever was killing it, and failing.

She followed the line, walking the rift in spite of the cuts that appeared in her hands and up her arms and across her body. Her feet were drenched in blood. The rift ran south until Adele saw a city in the distance. The line in her hand tugged slightly as if someone on the other end felt her presence. She wondered if this was what a fish experienced just before a sharp hook plunged through its cheek.

Adele released the rift and struggled to move away from the city. Noise and smells buffeted her, trying to push her ever downward. Adele swam up, ignoring the pain and exhaustion, focusing on getting back to Gareth. Then she saw white and felt cold. The near silence deafened her and frigid air seared her lungs.

Adele felt the frozen dirt between her fingers. The snowy landscape stretched out before her. She searched for Gareth's face and gave him a comforting nod as he took her sagging shoulders. Adele sat back in the snow, ignoring the wetness. She rubbed her face in exhaustion. “Gareth, you told me that your friend was the king in Paris. Lothaire? Is he still the king there?”

His curious gaze showed that he was concerned she was still rattled from her trip into the rift. “As far as I know. Why?”

She looked into his eyes. “The Earth is polluted here and that's obviously the source of this slaughter. I followed one of the distressed rifts and it ran toward Paris. That's where we'll find the Witchfinder.”

“That's not possible. Not Lothaire.”

“I hope not.”

Gareth was no longer looking at her. He was staring off to the south through the snow.

C
HAPTER 10

Adele had settled into the upstairs room in Bruges to continue her study of her mother's notebook while Gareth went out to feed. The sickness she had experienced out at that death camp had finally faded, except in her angry memory. Her muscles ached, but she didn't show any of the wounds that had occurred in the rifts. Nadzia had helped by bringing food, bland but serviceable, plus a local beer that was quite good.

Adele did her best to pierce the aspects of the blue crystal but found it murky going. There were few stones that didn't open their secrets to her with only a touch and a minimal amount of study. Her natural skills allowed her to penetrate crystalline surfaces and explore the lines and internal facets that channeled and reflected energy. Normally Adele could determine any number of things from even cursory examinations, from a stone's place of origin to its age. If a crystal had been carved or altered, particularly by a geomancer, she could typically determine for what purpose.

This blue stone remained a mystery to Adele. She couldn't extend her power into it. She knew it had been altered, quite skillfully too. The Witchfinder had cut the raw stone with stunning precision. He had used normal tools because it was a rare geomancer indeed who could modify a stone with pure energy, as Adele could. Even so, she was unable to fathom exactly the result of the alterations. She didn't understand the feel or sound or smell of the crystal's energy. So she took whatever time she had to turn to her sources, limited as they were, for some hints. She wished she had her texts in Alexandria, or the great arcane library of Sir Godfrey Randolph. Alas, she had only her mother's notebook, but it would have to serve.

The time for study would be short because she and Gareth were leaving for Paris in the morning. Gareth was nervous about what they would find there. He held King Lothaire in unique regard and feared what had become of him under the pressure of the Equatorian war from the south. Adele was nervous too, but her concerns seemed to have a simple answer, to a certain extent. Find the Witchfinder and put an end to his activities, one way or another. Adele might not comprehend how he did his work, but she knew it was dangerous and had to be stopped.

“Empress?”

Adele spun to see Kasteel peering at her from the stairs. His face was pale and he trembled.

“What's wrong?” Adele asked quickly, sure that something had happened to Gareth. There was no other reason for the rebel leader to look so distraught.

“Nothing.” He shrank back and muttered, “I'm sorry for disturbing you.”

She frightened him. The Death Bringer. The Empress of the End. She suppressed a scowl and waved him up. Her examination of the blue crystal cast waves of geomantic power in the confined space. It had to be painful for Kasteel. Adele set the stone aside and concentrated on bringing even these faint hints of energy under control. The vampire's English was fair so she said, “Come, Kasteel. I won't harm you. What do you want? Gareth isn't here.”

“I know.” He crept to the top step again. “I want to see you.”

“Me?” Adele stood her ground, careful not to make any aggressive moves that might spook the vampire. “Speak.”

“Was the food satisfactory?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Kasteel nodded silently, standing there like a shadow.

Adele leaned forward. “Anything else?”

He didn't raise his head. “Lord Gareth is going away soon.”

“Tomorrow. We're off to Paris.”

“To pursue the blue stone?”

“Yes.”

“Will he return?”

“I don't know.”

There was another long pause. Kasteel ran his hand along a stone column. Adele waited and watched the nervous vampire struggle to find words.

“What does he want?” Kasteel met her eyes in desperation. There was true questing pain in them that vampires never showed, at least not to a human. It was the same unquenchable desire and curiosity she had seen in Gareth when he asked questions about the inscrutable nature of human life. “I want to help him as he saves our kind, but he doesn't seem pleased with us. How can I aid him?”

The catch in his voice touched Adele. “You're asking
me
?”

“I'm sorry, Empress. I know you could burn me to ashes for asking, but that doesn't matter. There is no one else. Baudoin is dead. I've tried to understand Lord Gareth from his actions. I've tried to teach others. If he leaves without telling us we're on the right path, we'll have nowhere to go. We'll be adrift once more.”

The amazing vision of Kasteel standing before her, struggling with ideas, trying to plan and define behavior rather than simply feeding and killing, caused Adele to smile.

“Why is that funny?” he snapped and turned away.

Adele almost blurted out an apology before realizing she dare not show any weakness deep inside vampire territory. Still, she held up her hand to stop him from charging back down the steps. “Kasteel, wait! I'm not mocking you. Believe me. I'm merely overjoyed you're trying to learn. I wish I knew how to help you, but it's not my place to explain Gareth's mind to you.”

The vampire's anger passed and was replaced with a sudden look of alarm. He had just shouted at the Death Bringer.

She came forward with calm words. “It seems to me that you're doing the most important thing. You're showing others that change is possible. That's incredibly powerful.”

“Yes!” Kasteel brightened with pride, but then his expression fell again. “But why does he not see that? What have we done wrong?”

For a moment, Kasteel looked as young as Simon when he was scolded by their father. “You've done nothing wrong. You're just a surprise to him.”

“I've tried to spread the word. I've tried very hard. And there are more of us than you know. There will be many more once others realize what Lord Gareth is.”

“I'm sure you've tried.” Adele was eager to collect more hints of what these rebels believed, but she had to be cautious. It was difficult to bridge the gap between Death Bringer and confidant. “What exactly is Lord Gareth to you?”

“He is the prince who abandoned his rightful place to live alone among his humans . . . and cats apparently; I'm not sure how to judge that. But I know how he fought to free himself from the grip of his father, Dmitri, the despot of Britain.”

Adele looked doubtfully at the youthful face. “You'll forgive me, but the Gareth I know is different from the one you seem to see. Gareth has said many times that it was Dmitri who formed him. His father believed that vampires should live in the night and leave humans to the sun. Dmitri preached against the Great Killing. All that, Gareth gained from his father.”

“But they say Dmitri was mad,” Kasteel said, confused. “And Lord Gareth abandoned him.”

“The madness came later,” she replied gently. “After the Great Killing. And it broke Gareth's heart.”

Kasteel watched Adele with glowing eyes. He sank to sit cross-legged on the floor, listening rapturously to the words he craved to hear.

Gareth crouched in an alley, waiting. Hunger was gnawing at him; it had been several days since he fed. A huddled shape passed the opening and Gareth struck. The attack wasn't particularly artful, but he seized the man quickly and took him in an unbreakable hold. Wrenching the man's wrist up to his mouth, Gareth bit and tasted warming blood. The victim was healthy and frightened. He resisted, trying to pull away. Gareth found that unexpected, but heartening. After taking just enough blood to dull his hunger, he released the man. The large fellow rounded with a look of terror.

Gareth narrowed his eyes. “You're free to go. Take the road.”

The man took a few halting steps, then turned and broke into a run. He vanished into the dark.

With a satisfied breath, Gareth walked to the far side of the street and looked down at a frozen canal. He paused at a bare willow tree with its long slender tendrils draping down to where they were trapped in the ice. He heard the whisper of vampires floating past so he lowered his head, sinking deeper into his hood.

A dark figure swooped in front of him, landing on the frozen white surface of the canal. Gareth angrily tensed for a fight until he saw it was Kasteel. The young rebel smiled up at him.

“May I come with you to Paris?” Kasteel asked.

“No.”

Kasteel pushed off along the ice with one foot and slid a few feet. “I can serve you there, my lord. I have places you can stay safely.”

“I work alone. Well, with Adele.”

“You may need help. The Paris clan has become brutal.”

Gareth turned away. “What do you know of that?”

“I have been there several times since the war in the south began. Old Lothaire has lost his grip. Power resides with the Dauphin.”

“Prince Honore?” Gareth spun back to see Kasteel skating gracefully from one bank of the canal to the other.

“Yes. Honore. Do you know the king's son?”

“We've met. He was an acolyte of my brother's.”

“Cesare.” Kasteel's voice dripped with venom. “It's hard to believe that you are of the same clan, much less the same blood. Are you happy he's dead?”

Gareth was surprised by the pain that rose in him over Kasteel's callous mention of Cesare. The young vampire spun on the ice with his arms out. It was a peculiar sight to see a vampire playing, almost like a human child. The carefree moment annoyed Gareth. “Have you never been back to your clan at Aachen?”

“No.” Kasteel slowed his rotation and rose into the air while still spinning.

“You claim a lot of wisdom for one so young.” Gareth watched the vampire drift toward him.

Kasteel set his feet lightly on the stones in front of Gareth to stop his spin. “I know the most important thing, my lord. There are two paths to the future. Yours or Cesare's. You're standing here, and he's dead.”