"Don't move."
Jonmarc roused from an uneasy rest to find himself staring at the business end of a notched crossbow. The bowman was a vayash moru Jonmarc didn't recognize. Three of his fellows crowded into the pilgrim's chamber, and two of the others held their bows trained on Gabriel.
"The quarrel might not kill you," the bowman said to Gabriel, who had not moved from where he leaned against the wall, "but it will him," he added with a jerk of his head toward Jonmarc. "So I suggest cooperating."
Outside, the bells tolled the third hour of the morning. Although the vyrkin shaman had healed Jonmarc's injuries that were life threatening, too many other wounded fighters had needed his assistance for him to bother with the rest of Jonmarc's wounds, intending to heal them later. Exhausted and injured from the battle, stiff from the beating Malesh had inflicted, Jonmarc knew he was not up to another fight. Gabriel's burned and blistered skin had hardly begun to heal, and Jonmarc took that as an indicator that the vayash moru had sustained vital internal damage that was not apparent. Gabriel looked ragged. The odds were against them winning this battle, especially when Jonmarc spotted four more vayash moru armed with swords waiting in the ruined temple. "Malesh was destroyed," Gabriel snapped. "The war is over."
The dark haired man whose bow was pointed at Jonmarc shook his head. "We were sent by the Blood Council. You're to be brought before them for trial."
"The Blood Council?" Jonmarc started to sit up, then thought better of it as the bowman calibrated his aim.
"What nonsense is this?" Gabriel's voice was thick with disgust. "The Council dissolved." "Lord Rafe issued the order for your arrest. You're both to be brought to answer to the Council for your actions. The charge is treason." "Treason!" Gabriel snarled. "By whose measure?"
The dark haired man's face was stony. "You betrayed the Blood to side with the mortals
against vayash moru." He met Jonmarc's glare. "And you betrayed your sacred oath as Lord of Dark Haven when you made war against our kind." "I have a few things to say to Lord Rafe," Gabriel said.
The dark haired man signaled for the other vayash moru to enter. "Bind them. We'll carry them to the carriage on the road so that there are no tracks to follow." A crossbow fired. Jonmarc flinched, expecting to feel the razor-sharp point lancing through his skin. Instead, he saw Gabriel stiffen, his face tight with pain, eyes wide. The bolt pierced his heart.
"That will make sure he doesn't attempt anything heroic," the dark haired man said, meeting Jonmarc's gaze. "He'll recover. The Council's only requirement was that you be alive to stand trial. They didn't specify in what condition."
Jonmarc gritted his teeth as a vayash moru came forward to bind his wrists and jerked him to his feet. Another vayash moru lifted Gabriel as if he were weightless and carried him from the room. Jonmarc looked around the temple at the wreckage from the battle. Where Malesh had fallen lay a pile of charred clothing. Jonmarc winced at the sight of the large bloodstain that marked where he had gone down before Gabriel reached him. Outside, the snow was trampled and dark with ash and blood. Just as the bitter wind struck him, a vayash moru grabbed him hard from behind, squeezing his cracked ribs in an iron grip. Jonmarc fought back a cry of pain as they lifted off from the ground, traveling in a rush of air and snow to touch back down on a rutted road a few minutes later. An expensive black carriage waited for him. The team of four black stallions snuffled and pawed at the snow impatiently. His captors trundled him none too gently into the carriage, thrusting Gabriel in behind him like a piece of luggage, and locked the carriage door. Jonmarc struggled to lift Gabriel as gently as he could without putting any pressure on the arrow that pierced his chest. He managed to get Gabriel onto the carriage seat, where he slumped to the side and sat unmoving. Only his eyes moved, and Jonmarc clearly read pain in Gabriel's gaze.
"Lovely end to a perfect day," Jonmarc muttered, sitting down on the seat facing Gabriel. The carriage bumped and jostled roughly as the horses raced through the night. After more than a candlemark, the carriage slowed. Out the frosted window, Jonmarc could see the silhouette of a manor house.
Where Wolvenskorn was notable for its great age and Dark Haven for its austerity, this grand home was much newer, in the style of King Staden's palace. Made from brick and granite, the three-story structure was topped with a carved stone railing. Gargoyles and grotesques looked down on the entrance, which was flanked by two equally large wings of the building. Candles glittered in every window as if the grand home awaited guests for a ball. Jonmarc felt his gut tighten. Too tasteful to be Uri's home at Scothnaran, not ascetic enough to be Rafe's country villa, this had to be Astasia's manor. That alone did not bode well.
Guards came to unlock the carriage door. Jonmarc, wrists still bound, was escorted by four vayash moru, two of whom carried crossbows loaded and aimed at his back. He resisted the urge to smile at the threat his captors perceived him to be, even bound and bloodied. Let them wonder, he thought, though he was acutely aware of the fact that he was hardly ready to hold his own against mortals, let alone vayash moru. Behind Jonmarc, another vayash moru carried Gabriel, who hung limply in his arms like a corpse. They walked up the broad stone steps and into a front hall that glittered with gold and crystal reflected from mirrored walls and a gleaming white marble floor.
The guards hustled them past the finery to a room at the end of a long corridor. The lead guard opened a door to a small, windowless room that appeared to be an unused pantry. It was bare and lit only by a single overhead lamp. "You'll wait here," he instructed curtly. He drew a knife from his belt and advanced on Jonmarc, who eyed him warily, but the guard slit the cord that bound his wrists and sheathed his knife. Jonmarc's guards prodded him inside, while the man who carried Gabriel set him down hard on the bare floor. With one swift move, he jerked the arrow from Gabriel's chest and stepped back as Gabriel groaned and fell backward. When the door locked behind their captors, Jonmarc edged closer.
"Gabriel?" He kept some distance between them, having no idea how lucid Gabriel might be. "Are you all right?"
"That depends on your definition."
"Where are we?"
"Airenngeir. Astasia's manor."
"Does the Blood Council usually meet here?"
"No."
Jonmarc cursed. "This just keeps getting better." He paused. "Is there anything I can do for
you?"
"Short of feeding me the idiot who shot me with that arrow, nothing I can think of." Gabriel groaned and pulled himself up to sit against the wall. His shirt was stained dark with ichor. He grimaced and let out an uncharacteristic expletive. "I thought you could heal just about anything."
"Heal, yes. But not immediately. The greater the damage, the longer it takes. If you hadn't noticed, I'd seen better days before I got shot. Chest wounds are particularly slow to heal and they hurt like hell."
"Yeah, well, for the record-getting bitten in the neck doesn't feel great either." Gabriel glanced at him. "It can be nearly painless. Malesh wanted you to suffer." Jonmarc was silent for a few moments. "Why didn't he try to turn me?" "Malesh knew that you'd never accept him as a master. He probably didn't doubt that you'd kill him the first chance you got, even if it destroyed you as well. He knows first-hand how a fledgling can turn against his maker. And if he ever tried to influence your thoughts, he would have realized you have a certain, natural resistance. You have no idea how much effort it took for my compulsion to break through your shielding at Westormere." Again, they sat in silence for a while. "What now? We both know the trial's a farce." Gabriel shifted and gritted his teeth against the pain. "Astasia and Uri may have clamored for it, but Rafe is usually a fair man, if rule-driven. The question is whether or not they've included Riqua. She's not in here with us, which is a good sign. On the other hand, they must know she's at Dark Haven. That would make her less than impartial." "Wouldn't they consider her just as guilty of betraying the Blood?" Gabriel shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. She was bloodsworn against Uri's brood, but she herself never battled either mortals or vayash moru. Depending on how this goes, there may be repercussions against those in her brood who fought alongside us. By logic, the Council can't rule for our destruction without condemning more than half of the vayash moru in Principality. And they should have no hold over you at all. This is an internal matter."
Jonmarc could hear the pain in Gabriel's voice. He'd never seen Gabriel vulnerable before, and it made him more uneasy than he cared to admit. Jonmarc assessed his own injuries from practice born of far too many fights. The wound at his throat was healed. With a healer's help, he'd be back to fighting strength in just a day or two. On his own, it might take several weeks. He
remembered times when he'd felt like Gabriel looked, and how long and painful the recovery had been.
It was close enough to dawn when they arrived that Jonmarc guessed their trial would wait until sundown. As the candlemarks passed without anyone coming for them, his surmise appeared to be correct. Both he and Gabriel dozed. Having one of them sit sentry when they were captives in a locked room seemed pointless.
After a long time, Jonmarc heard a key move in the lock and he tensed as the door swung open. "The Council demands your presence," a guard announced.
Gabriel refused the guard's offer to help him to his feet, baring his long eye teeth in warning. Jonmarc managed to stand on his own, although he couldn't hide a limp. Under armed escort, they made their way into a paneled library that was as cold as the winter night outside. The huge fireplace was dark and empty, and the room was lit by a massive central chandelier. A space had been cleared in the center of the room facing a long heavy wooden table. Seated behind the table were Rafe, Astasia and Uri.
Rafe rose to read the charges against them. "Gabriel, Lord of Wolvenskorn. You are charged with betraying the Blood and violating the Truce. You have made war against our own kind, enabled mortals to burn day crypts, and incited the vyrkin against vayash moru. How do you plead?"
Jonmarc had never seen the anger that burned in Gabriel's eyes. "One hundred percent guilty-and you know why I did it." His voice was scathing. "Talk to Uri about violating the Truce. I sought to finish what Malesh started before he brought the king's wrath and the vengeance of every mortal in Principality down on us." "You understand that the penalty for betrayal is destruction."
"So is the penalty for cowardice," Gabriel snapped. "You saw what Malesh was doing, and you and Astasia chose to do nothing. How many villages did you think he could destroy before the mortals came to burn us all? It's already started. And while you're here making a mockery of what's left of the Council, you've imprisoned the only man who has a chance of stopping the mortals," he said with a glance toward Jonmarc.
Rafe turned toward Jonmarc. "Jonmarc Vahanian, Lord of Dark Haven. You are charged with-"
"Destroying the murdering bastard who killed my wife and annihilated three mortal villages,"
Jonmarc interrupted. "And no, I'm not sorry."
"You swore an oath to protect the residents of Dark Haven," Rafe countered. "All the residents-mortal and undead," Jonmarc countered. "How long did you think Malesh could go on before Staden decided to ride in here with an army and put an end to it? Malesh broke the Truce. Once Malesh started slaughtering villagers, that oath gave me no choice. But the Truce went both ways. When Malesh decided that mortals were fair game, the vayash moru lost their protection, too. Don't tell me about 'betraying Blood.' I cut down six mortals who were hunting vyrkin. And assuming I live through tonight, I'll stand between the mortals and the vayash moru to protect your kind, just as I fought them to protect my own."
"If the Council finds you guilty, the penalty is destruction," Rafe replied.
"You have no jurisdiction over him." Gabriel stepped forward, and Jonmarc could only guess how much willpower it was taking him to move as though he weren't in pain. "The Lord of Dark Haven's authority comes from King Staden, not from the Blood Council." He fixed Rafe with a lethal glare. "And to strike the king's liegeman is to declare war against the king himself."
"We do, however, have jurisdiction over our own." Astasia's voice was like ice. Jonmarc had no idea what prompted the hatred he saw in her eyes. Beside her, Uri appeared to be watching the proceedings with amusement.
"In other words, you're not going to be satisfied unless someone bleeds," Jonmarc said, feeling his temper rise. "Fine. If you need blood, take mine. Everything Gabriel did was to protect me. He believed he was fulfilling a vow to the Dark Lady. I burned the day crypts. I led the attack at the Caliggan Crossroads, and I led the mortals against the vayash moru at Mead's Ferry. I destroyed Malesh at Istra's Temple. You want a blood sacrifice? Here I am." "You would die to protect one of the Blood?"
Jonmarc strained for control. "What part of this whole discussion didn't you get? Malesh put the lot of you in danger. Do you really think the vayash moru can stand against the armies of the king and the mobs of villagers if it comes to that? Riqua knew better. She remembers the burnings before the Truce. Malesh had to be stopped. Either Gabriel and I stopped him, while this was still a 'family matter,' or there'd be no ending the vengeance until every vayash moru in Principality went down in flames."
"Will you raise your hand against the Dark Lady's chosen?" Gabriel's voice cut through the conversation like a cold knife. "Look at the brand of the Dark Lady and the wound that healed on
his throat. Malesh desecrated Istra's temple to become the consort of Shanthadura. He started the war not to make our kind ascendant, but to make himself a god. To do that, he had to challenge and defeat the Dark Lady's champion. He failed. But when Vigulf, the vyrkin shaman, healed Jonmarc, we both sensed Istra's presence in the temple." Gabriel looked at Jonmarc. "He hasn't spoken of this to me. But I'm certain that She appeared to him."
"Is this true?" Rafe's voice had lost some of its edge as an inquisitor, and Jonmarc recalled that Rafe was once a scholar. "It's true."
"We have nothing but their word for it," Astasia protested. "Men will say anything to avoid destruction."
Rafe glared at Astasia to silence her. "Are there any other questions for the accused?" Uri leaned forward. "I wish to know exactly how Malesh died."
Jonmarc met Uri's dark eyes. "I put a quarrel through his heart when he sank his teeth into my neck. He fell backward into the candles and burned." "Yet you live." "Not by choice."
Uri seemed to ponder that for a moment. "Why didn't you burn me, when you found me in the day crypt? Lady knows, we're hardly friends."
"Because as much as I would have enjoyed it, you didn't lead the revolt. Malesh did. And while your bluster gave him the words to recruit his helpers, you promised Riqua and Gabriel that you'd try to stop him. It kills me to admit it, but you kept your word. I've never killed someone who couldn't fight back. Not even you."
Rafe cleared his throat. "If there are no other questions, it is time for a vote. Both of the accused freely admit their guilt. Shall the Council rule for their destruction?"
Jonmarc found that anger overrode fear. Gabriel's eyes gave no clue to his thoughts. The next few moments seemed to last forever.
Finally, Rafe spoke. "No."
Astasia looked up with fury in her eyes. "Yes."
They turned toward Uri, who seemed to relish the suspense. "My answer is, no." He met Jonmarc's eyes. "Don't mistake me. I still don't like you, nor do I like having a mortal lord at Dark Haven. But Malesh was my mistake. He got badly out of hand. And unlike Astasia, I am old enough to recall the burnings. I have no wish to see those days return." Rafe stood. "The Council has ruled." He looked to Jonmarc. "Lord Vahanian. I would not recommend that you ride alone in your condition by night. You are welcome to spend the night and leave in the morning." As if he expected a retort, he raised a hand to forestall a reply. "I will personally guarantee your safety. In the morning, you'll find a horse and provisions for the ride. Your weapons will be returned to you." He met Jonmarc's eyes. "We will honor the Truce."
Jonmarc regarded him warily. "And Gabriel?"
Rafe nodded. "Lord Gabriel returns to his position on the Blood Council and to his manor at Wolvenskorn without prejudice. Whether he returns to Dark Haven is up to him." Gabriel gave Jonmarc a reassuring nod. "I'll see you in Dark Haven once I settle a few things at Wolvenskorn." He glanced toward the Council. "And I'll make sure you have better accommodations here," he said in a tone that warned Astasia that he expected her to comply. Gabriel gave a curt bow toward the others. "Until later."
Jonmarc did not speak until they were alone in one of the upstairs rooms. "That's it? They haul us in here trussed up like thieves, put a stake through your heart, threaten to burn you and kill me, and then it's over with nothing more than a 'by your leave'?"
To his surprise, Gabriel chuckled. "After several hundred years, sometimes the form matters more than the function. They feel they've been heard. Rules have been observed. Order is restored. Astasia had her say, Rafe can feel that he's satisfied the regulations and Uri got to
be magnanimous. And we remain."
They fell silent. "Thank you," Jonmarc said finally.
Gabriel shrugged. "Likewise. You didn't have to defend me to the Council. It was a rather foolhardy thing to do, given the circumstances." Jonmarc shrugged. "I owe you."
Gabriel met his eyes. "I don't know what you saw, there in the temple. But in all the years I've existed, I have only believed one other person to be the Dark Lady's chosen."
"Who was that?"
"Bava K'aa, Tris's grandmother."
"I didn't want this."
"I know."
Jonmarc turned away and felt the room begin to reel. Gabriel caught him before he fell and
helped him to a chair. "I'll make sure someone brings you food. And while there's no healer here, I can probably find something for the pain." Jonmarc nodded, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes as Gabriel slipped from the room.
Every time I turn around, there's someone new in line to kill me. Just like old times. And as soon as Donelan finds out what happened to Carina, he'll make good on his threat. He'll send the bounty hunters after me with a price so high even Gabriel won't be able to protect me if I set foot outside the manor house. So much for being anyone's champion. Before long, a servant delivered a meal of hard sausage, cheese and bread, along with a bottle of dark Trevath whiskey. Jonmarc ate his fill, finishing off half of the whiskey until he could no longer feel his battle wounds. But even the whiskey could not dull the dread he felt over returning to Dark Haven, and despite the strong drink, his dreams were troubled.