‘I was in awe of Khalid. Greyhand was a swordsman both sharp and swift, but the abbot was a force of nature. The Blood Dyvok flowed in his veins as in Theo’s, and I’d seen him at training, wielding twin two-handed swords, one in each grip. All palebloods were strong, but Khalid was fucking terrifying.
‘He strode into the sevenstar circle, and Greyhand and Aaron leapt down from the Thresher. All three of us bowed in respect as Khalid’s kohled green eyes met our master’s.
‘“The town of Skyefall has been struck by malady. A wasting sickness none can explain. Mayhaps witchery. A fae curse, or cultists of the fallen. For my part, I smell a coldblood’s work. But regardless, our Emperor Alexandre demands answers. Go with God and Martyrs to seek the truth of it.”
‘Greyhand made the sign of the wheel. “By the Blood.”
‘Khalid nodded, then glanced to me. “Do us proud, Little Lion.”
‘Archer wheeled through the sky above, his shrill call piercing the air. My heart swelled in my chest. After six months of tireless work, I’d finally been deemed worthy to leave San Michon. De Coste’s proud jaw was set. As Khalid spun on his heel, Master Greyhand turned to us. And though his features were stone as always, I thought I caught a hint of a smile in his voice.
‘“At last, lads,” he said. “We Hunt.”’
II
THE FIVE LAWS
‘GREYHAND’S BLADE SCYTHED towards my throat, glinting red in the firelight. With a gasp, I turned it aside, feeling the strength of his blow jar my arm as he sent me tumbling.
‘“Initiate de Coste,” he said. “When stalking vampires, what is Law the First?”
‘Aaron stepped aside from Greyhand’s strike, countered with a stab of his own. Our master met de Coste’s thrust, locking the lad up and waiting for his answer.
‘We’d been travelling two weeks through Nordlund, and the mining town of Skyefall was but a day’s ride away. We’d camped in the foothills below it, just south of the Velde River. And as was our nightly ritual, before we ate, we earned our fucking dinner.
‘“Law the First,” Aaron panted. “The dead cannot kill the Dead.”
‘“Good. What does it mean?”
‘“We can’t kill coldbloods if we’re killed ourselves, Master.”
‘Greyhand’s boot collided with the boy’s chest, sent him flying back into the corpse of a nearby fir. De Coste struck the trunk hard enough to crack the roots, and the whole tree tilted like a two-pint drunkard. Twirling his blade, Greyhand spoke as if out for a stroll on prièdi.
‘“Indeed. Of all the prey that silversaints stalk, coldbloods are perhaps the most dangerous. You must be cunning and cautious in pursuit of the Dead. They surely didn’t survive for centuries by being less so. Mistake not stupidity for courage. Do not be fear’s slave, but its friend. Look. Think. Then act.”
‘“Don’t be a dumb fuck,” I murmured.
‘Greyhand parried Aaron’s charge, smashed his blade aside, and punched him full in the face, sending the lordling onto his backside. Turning, he stalked across the frozen ground back towards me. “Since you’re feeling talkative, de León, recite Law the Second.”
‘I ducked below the sweep of his blade, skipped backwards towards the fire. “Dead tongues heeded are Dead tongues tasted, Master.”
‘“And what does that mean?”
‘“Listen to nothing they say.”
‘Greyhand feinted, and like a fool, I took the bait. Swift as a serpent, he struck at my swordarm, opening up my bicep to the bone. I cried out, felt my legs swept out from under me, crashing onto the muddy ground.
‘“Very good, Little Lion,” Greyhand said. “All highbloods can bend the minds of men. Their gaze can mesmerize, their words are iron-clad commands to the weak-willed. Especially the Blood Ilon. But moreover, their currency is deceit. Coldbloods are foxes and serpents all. Listen not to a word these bastards hiss, lest you find yourself their meal.”
‘I rose from the ground and Greyhand met my strike, pale green eyes flashing. We exchanged a flurry of blows, firelight dancing on steel. Fast as a hummingfly’s wings, Greyhand buried his pommel into my stomach so hard I almost puked. And with a savage uppercut from his hilt, I was sent flying in a spray of blood and spit.
‘“Now, young Lord de Coste. Law the Third?”
‘Aaron dodged Greyhand’s strike, parried another. “The Dead run quick, Master.”
‘“I know you can speak by rote, boy. What do you think?”
‘Aaron struck back, opening up a thin line of red along Greyhand’s chest. “Our enemy runs quick.” The lordling twirled his blade in triumph. “Quicker than we do.”
‘“Excellent.” Greyhand ran his fingers through his blood and smiled. “Mark this one well, Initiates. Your enemy is stronger than you are. Faster. More resilient. A single wretched is a match for a dozen men. An ancien highblood can break your bones with a touch, and move fast as winter wind. You have weapons and training to even the scale. But underestimate this foe, and you die.”
‘Again, Greyhand lunged, but this time, twice as fast and sure. Aaron moved too slow, and with expression unchanged, Greyhand thrust his sword through the lordling’s belly and right out through his back. Aaron gasped as Greyhand twisted the blade loose and dropped him groaning to the floor.
‘“Law the Fourth,” Greyhand said, turning to me. “The Dead feel as beasts, look as men, die as devils. What does it mean?”
‘I raised my sword in my off-hand, heart hammering. “They’re … complicated.”
‘Greyhand came at me like a thunderbolt. I recognized his patterns from the Gauntlet, countering with my own. I came close to spitting the bastard, too. But then he smashed my blade aside and drove his sword through me so hard I was pinned to the tree behind me. Moaning in agony, I clutched the five feet of steel now skewered through my chest as Greyhand wandered back to the fire to check on dinner.
‘“Complicated, oui,” he mused, stirring the steaming pot. “But in many ways, coldbloods are at root, the same. Oh, they may act as men. But you need only starve one for a night or two to discover what lies under the silken finery and cherry lips. A mortal man will fight with all he has to protect his famille. But I swear by Almighty God and all the host of heaven, you’ve not seen true fury until you’ve witnessed the jealous rage with which these devils fight to preserve their own lives.”
‘Aaron had picked himself up, bloody drool leaking from his mouth. His face was paler than usual, blonde hair plastered to red cheeks. But Greyhand held up a hand.
‘“Nono, it’s almost ready. Help de León.”
‘De Coste gave a weary nod. Thrusting his training blade into the muddy ground, he trudged around the fire to assist me. I had both bloodied hands wrapped around Greyhand’s sword, trying to drag it free from the tree he’d spitted me upon.
‘“You forgot Law the F-fifth, Master,” I groaned.
‘Greyhand took a sip from his iron ladle, smacked his lips. “Needs salt.”
‘Aaron took hold of the sword embedded in my chest, giving me a sadistic smile. “Even the Dead have laws.”