‘“Even the Dead have laws,” Greyhand nodded, sprinkling the pot with a fingerful of seasoning. “This is the simplest, Initiates, and most comforting. For even though these monsters are spat straight from hell’s maw, they are still governed by rules. They can cross no rivers save at bridges, nor enter a dwelling without invitation. They cannot set foot upon sanctified ground, nor bear the sight of sacred icons wielded by a person of pure faith. They have weaknesses, is the point. Weaknesses you will learn to exploit.”
‘I tried not to cry out as de Coste wrenched the blade loose. Falling to my knees, I pressed hard to staunch the blood, the chest wound bubbling as I breathed.
‘“De León, being headstrong isn’t a boon in combat, it just means you’re easy to fake,” Greyhand declared. “This is swordplay, not loveplay. Don’t go where your partner leads you, go where you need to be.”
‘“Oui, Master,” I groaned, dragging my knuckles across my bloody chin.
‘“De Coste, your feint announces its approach from two provinces over, and you’re too cocky by half. Don’t start celebrating ’til your quarry is in the damned ground.”
‘“Understood, Master,” the lordling said, spitting more red.
‘“Good. Now come eat while it’s hot.”’
Jean-Fran?ois was staring at Gabriel, his expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief. ‘This was how your master trained you in bladework?’
Gabriel shrugged. ‘It wasn’t like he was doing any permanent damage. We were palebloods, and our sparring blades were ordinary steel. The flesh wounds would be gone in an hour. Even the worst of it would heal by dawn. But the pain, that was real. You want to teach someone a lesson about keeping their guard high, stab them in the baps a few times, they’ll get the message.
‘Bruised and bloodied, we settled down around the fire. Greyhand said the Godthanks as always, and I served the meal while Archer watched from the branches above. Dinner was mushroom ragout, one of our master’s favourites. He wasn’t the finest cook in the empire, but all I could taste was my own blood anyway.
‘The brief summer was done, and winter’s bite was in the wind. I could barely recall the springs of my youth, all the world cloaked in flowers. I remembered my sister Amélie weaving wreaths for Mama’s hair when we were children. Celene and I running in green fields. But snow fell six months of the year now, and all the land seemed soaked in gloom and the smell of brimstone. Miserable leaves clung to the branches of failing trees, slowly being overgrown with a new luminous fungus called maryswort. The chill cut to the bone. The river’s song was distant, muffled, and a thought struck me as we ate, brought on by Greyhand’s talk of Law the Fifth.
‘“Master? What happens when the rivers freeze?”
‘De Coste scoffed, holding his wounded belly. “Aside from the obvious?”
‘“Must you be a sour-tongued prick all your life? I’m talking about the armies of the Forever King. If coldbloods can’t cross running water, but rivers freeze …”
‘“You’ve the truth of it, Little Lion,” Greyhand said. “Wintersdeep is not our friend. In summer, the Emperor’s generals can guard bridges against the Forever King’s host. Stop him crossing, or at least force a battle of their choosing. But when the freeze sets in again …”
‘“Voss can cross wherever he likes,” I murmured.
‘“So we fear,” Greyhand nodded, stirring his bowl.
‘“How long until he marches?”
‘“We know not. Scouting in those freezing wilds is difficult, but we’ve had no word out of Talhost in months. The region is surely a wasteland by now. The Forever King likely waits in Vellene upon his corpse throne for the freeze to begin, yet it’s only a matter of time before he pushes east to feed his legion. But still, we have advantage.” Greyhand nodded to the snowcapped peaks above. “There are only two places he can strike, after all.”
‘I looked to the dark silhouettes of the mountain range around us, listening to the wind howl among its reaches. In times past, that great spine of granite marked the edge of Nordish civilization, and the beginning of the untamed lands of Talhost to the west. Hence its name: the Godsend. Each mountain in the range was named for an angel of the heavenly host. The peak above us was Eirene, Angel of Hope. The range stretched the entire northwest edge of the Nordlund, and there were only two natural gateways into the east. Two choke points guarded by two of the mightiest fortresses in the realm.
‘“Avinbourg in the north,” de Coste murmured. “Or Charinfel in the south.”
‘Greyhand nodded. “Those two cityforts have guarded the Nordlund’s flank since the Wars of the Faith. And Voss must take one of them if he wishes to take the empire. We know not which he’ll strike, but one thing is certain. When the rivers freeze, his hammer falls.”
‘Greyhand looked to the darkened skies, his mood growing fey.
‘“Is it true what you told me, Master?” I asked. “About the attack on Vellene?”
‘“’Tis true,” Greyhand nodded, his voice grim. “Voss took the city and slaughtered all within the walls. It’s said one of his heirs, the beast Danton, murdered every virgin maid in Vellene with his own hand. The dark twins Alba and Alene set the grand cathedral ablaze with a thousand or more people inside, murdering anyone who fled the flames. And Fabién’s youngest daughter, Laure, gathered all the newborn babes in Vellene, filled the fountain in the market square with their blood, and bathed in it.”
‘My stomach did a slow, sickening turn inside me.
‘“Laure Voss,” Aaron murmured. “The Wraith in Red.”
‘“An abomination made flesh,” Greyhand spat. “But it’s not for their brutality that the Forever King’s brood should be feared. Nor the legend that Fabién himself cannot be slain by any warrior of woman born. No, the true reason to fear Voss is his ambition. In nights before daysdeath, to beget a wretched was considered an embarrassment among kith society. But it was Voss who first thought to forge the wretched’s growing numbers into an army. It was Voss who foresaw a way vampires might conquer this empire.”
‘Greyhand set aside his bowl, stared up into black skies.
‘“But that’s not the darkest part of it, lads. Kith are hateful and solitary creatures. Territorial. Vindictive. But the Voss are famille. Fabién has seven highblood descendants that we know of. And though creatures so soulless as they are incapable of true love, it can be said of all the world, Voss’s children hate each other the least. Their unholy father calls them the Princes of Forever. Abbot Khalid says they are the deadliest creatures that walk on God’s own earth. But no matter the name by which you call them, strike at one, you strike at seven. And their unholy father besides.”
‘Greyhand looked among us again, his voice as cold as stone.
‘“So we will have to kill them all.”’
III
HUNTERS AND PREY
‘THE TOWN OF Skyefall crouched on a hillside of black stone, wreathed in grey mist. As wealthy as a priest after the collection plate has been passed around, and as strange as the idea that the creator of heaven and earth needs the money in the first place. For a boy who’d grown up in a mud puddle like Lorson, it seemed the grandest metropolis. But riding into its shadow on that cold winter day, I’d no notion of the horrors we’d find there.