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Rail's rueful look acknowledged it. "You're far too sharp to be pretending not to be, son. My time is coming to an end. Very soon. I can feel it. I'm sad because it's not easy to say goodbye to everything you've known. Not just turn toward the void, but step full out into it, not knowing if all your memories will go with you, if you'll remember the beauty of a full moon or the touch of woman's hand, or even what happened to me to have this knife fall into my hands. I want to hold onto that memory as I pass, take it with me wherever I go next."
He rose to come around the table and sit down next to Uthe, placing a hand on his shoulder. His brown eyes were kind and thoughtful. He was such a different vampire, the kind Uthe fervently wished he could be. The opposite of everything his sire was.
"Now that I look back," Rail said, "I know that's what that man was doing. He knew his time was coming and he was saying goodbye to this world and all it had to offer. Doesn't matter how good what comes after is. When you have to say goodbye to all you've ever known, and you don't know if you're going to remember it, facing that end is how a person grieves, on the front end, before you let go of this life. Whereas it's the job of those who remember him to grieve on the other side after he passes, and honor what he gave us. There's a balance to that too, I expect."
Grasping Uthe's wrist, he placed the dagger in his hand, closing his fingers over the hilt. "Take it. For whatever bit of foresight I've been given, I think the peace you need will be found in the Holy Land where I found it. Among humans, not vampires. You need to free yourself from the skin of your own maker, and that won't be found in your own world. Not yet."
* * *
After Uthe finished the story, Kel said nothing for quite some time about it, though Uthe could feel him turning it over in his mind. They roved over idle topics from there: Council issues, tidbits about the Fae world Uthe was curious about, and past debates they'd had. They also spent a good bit of time hiking in silence. It wasn't until the day moved toward twilight that Keldwyn returned to the dagger's origins.
They'd reached the summit of a rocky peak. A glance down said they'd be deep into another maze of them before long. Uthe stopped, propping a foot against a jutting stone, and tipped his head back, looking at clouds scudding across the darkening sky. He liked the way twilight turned the clouds into smoke against the firmament.
Keldwyn stood at his side. Uthe realized he was leaning against him as if he were dizzy and out of breath. He was dizzy. Must be the effect of the sun. Damn it, he'd forgotten. Yes, the dagger let him walk in sunlight, but it doubled or tripled his blood needs. He'd had to feed once a day when he was using it. Most vampires his age only had to feed once every several days. Sometimes he'd been able to go even longer, unless a stressor increased his metabolism. Well, he'd figure that out later. At sundown, it should be easy enough to steal through the night and take a meal from one of their invisible trackers, a sleepy goatherd or nomadic shepherd.
"So he was suggesting," Keldwyn said slowly, one hand steady on Uthe's back, his other curled loosely around his arm, "that Jesus of Nazarus gave him the dagger? And when he cut his wrist to feed Rail, it gave the blade the powers it carries today?"
"He said none of those things. But the timing and its properties suggest it's very possible. Or the knife may have already been carrying those gifts. There's a lot about the life of the Nazarene that's not known, particularly before he started preaching. There's speculation that he was engaged in more mystical studies before that time. But I've thought about what Rail said, about him being just a man. Maybe one man's extraordinary understanding of peace and love created a magic even stronger than a sorcerer's."
Keldwyn fished a band somewhere from within his clothing and lifted his arms to efficiently wrap it at the top of his thick braid. By doing so, he re-captured several of the shorter strands that had loosened from it and framed his face. "It is possible."
"Really?" Uthe watched Keldwyn's hands move over the task, the curving of his biceps. He imagined unbraiding the Fae Lord's dark mane, letting the heat and weight of it spill over his hands, cover his face, slide along his chest. He wanted to touch Keldwyn's precise features, the lips that could be set in cruel, stern lines or a tempting, mocking smile. He thought of the way they'd feel, softening and curving under Uthe's fingertips. Clearing his throat, he turned his attention back to the sky. "It surprises me to hear you say that, my lord."
"The power of love is something no magic user can deny after seeing it in action. It is the most miraculous thing to witness when it succeeds. Just as it crushes the soul to see it fail." Keldwyn finished getting the hair out of his eyes, but he hadn't missed Uthe's absorption. "I think you like my hair, vampire."
"It is easy to enjoy beauty, my lord."
"That depends." Keldwyn swept a glance over him. "On how much it resists adoration. So you went to Jerusalem, then?"
Flummoxed by how the Fae Lord had thrown the compliment back over him, like a net of possibilities, Uthe took a second to recall the storyline. "I did. My first night in the area, I stumbled on a camp of soldiers, and shared a meal with them. Popular history tends to remember the Templars as an order that stretched through the Holy Lands and Europe, but in the beginning it was just nine men and their retainers. The men were mostly connected by family lineage to Hugh of Payns, the founder of the Order. It was those nine I met that night, and Hugh who invited me to share their meal. And that's a story for another time. I think it is your turn."
Uthe cocked his head. "This journey will be far more interesting if we trade stories along it. Perhaps for every story I offer, you offer one in return. The only parameter is that it must be a true one, and tell me something of yourself."
"But who better than a Fae to tell a fairy tale?"
Uthe chuckled. "These days, the lines of reality and fantasy can blur for me. If I could rely upon your stories as truth, that would be a comfort. It shouldn't be too taxing for you. If the Ennui advances quickly enough, you can tell me the same story, and I will think it new."
Keldwyn didn't smile at the jest. He reached out and closed his fingers on Uthe's arm, but then, as if remembering what Uthe had said about the eyes focused on them, he dropped his hold. Instead, he asked a question as personal as the most intimate touch. "Your story about Rail suggests what I've always expected, that Uthe is not your given name. I want to know it. I've waited patiently for you to tell me."
"The word patience obviously means something different to the Fae."
Keldwyn merely gave him an expectant look. Uthe knew it should be of no consequence, but it had been years since he'd spoken it. He hadn't been able to bear hearing it in his head, and he'd been able to banish it, except in his nightmares. Yet it was simply a name. He shouldn't make Keldwyn think it had more significance than it did. He sighed. "Varick, my lord."
Keldwyn's eyes brightened, his lips curving in a way that made Uthe not displeased he'd told him, at least in this moment. "It means protector and ruler. Your parents had auspicious hopes for you."
"My father. I sincerely hope I disappointed him. I do not use my given name for that reason."
Keldwyn considered him. "A story for another time?"
"Or perhaps never. There are better stories to tell and hear. We should keep moving."
"Are you steadier now?"
"Well enough." Uthe lifted his head, inhaled. "Odd. A wolf, by itself. Loner."
Keldwyn didn't have a vampire's olfactory senses, though he could detect whatever life forms were in a certain range around him. His eye for terrain more than made up for his less acute sense of smell, since he'd already identified several better paths through the rocks. "Why is it odd? Syria has wolves, and a loner could be an injured or older animal."
"This one just smells...off." Uthe shrugged. "He's well ahead of us. If our paths cross, we'll see what's peculiar about him." He held still, reaching out with all his senses, nostrils flaring. "We also have a different form of watcher now. One far less benevolent than our mountain people
. I don't detect anyone from the tribes, so they've backed off in the face of this new development, which suggests the new arrivals are a threat." Uthe frowned, brow creasing. "Their scent is...familiar, though I can't identify it."
"Should we try to circle around, flush them out?"
"I think it's best we continue onward," Uthe responded. "But when possible we should choose terrain where we have the tactical advantage. I'd dislike getting caught and surrounded in one of these gullies without knowing exactly what we are facing. It will be dark soon. My guess is they are waiting for us to reach our destination before they make their intent known."
"Is there any reason to conceal it from them?"
"No. Only I can obtain what is here and, once we reach that destination, we will be protected from the threat they pose. I detect about twenty of them. Human, mostly. Let's keep going, my lord, unless you object."
"I trust your judgment, Lord Uthe."
