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maneuvered up another steep incline. As they did, the opening to the cave Uthe sought became visible. It disappeared, then reappeared again. Like the entrance to Cai's chosen cave, it was narrow and, at most angles, difficult to see. It was a good spot for a sorceress to work unmolested.
"You face a demon, and you were going to come here alone, with no magical abilities of your own?" Keldwyn grunted. "You are not usually foolish, my lord."
"I wasn't this time. This demon and I have been connected for a very long time, my lord." Uthe didn't look for Kel's reaction to that. He had all his senses straining for evidence of ambush. The loosening of rock under a shifting foot, the scrape of a body against a stone wall, the scent of man or any other life form, a flutter of movement. Nothing. Which only made him more suspicious. At least some of the men should have been lying in wait here, so once Uthe bridged the protection on the cave, they could rush in, try to overpower them.
Keldwyn brought a hand up, pressing his knuckles to Uthe's chest. The Fae's gaze was intent. "There is not just one magic in use here. A second one. Very dark. Your demon, I expect?"
"Or whatever she found to fight him." Uthe met Keldwyn's gaze, wondering if the Fae remembered his comment earlier, about the sorceress being a magic user who crossed the boundaries between dark and light magic. She'd always known her forays into dark magic to find their answer carried the risk of overwhelming her, bringing her over to the demon's side. But Cai's assessment of her had assured Uthe that hadn't happened, as well as Uthe's belief in the will of the woman in question.
He smelled death, a few days old. Outside the cave, the odor came from the remains of those who'd tried to breach the sorceress's wards once they were activated. The stronger stench came from within, those trapped with her whom scavengers couldn't reach. He disliked thinking of her body sharing the same space as those rotting corpses, but he could hear her cackling response to that.
We're all meat in the end, my lord. A buffet for scavengers. She'd say cold things like that when the darkness rose in her eyes. When she felt closer to the light, she'd speak a different truth. The body's a home. One we should love and respect for its care of us. One day, probably sooner than we'd like, we'll all have to leave home.
The entrance to her cave was flanked by layers of concealing rock, and the terrain leading up to it was steep, uneven. "If she didn't have time to craft an exception to my presence, I may be incinerated when I try to enter her cave, as the others were," Uthe said.
"When we get there, let me examine the shape of her protections. I may be able to keep you unsinged."
"That would be a kindness, my lord."
They moved forward together. One step, two steps. Uthe slid his pack off his shoulder, ready to drop it. A breath later, he felt the dark magic Kel had mentioned. It struck him deep in the bones, like a fever ache. He knew the touch of the demon intimately, but there was a distance to that touch. This was up close, a blast of power that speared terror through his soul.
Fuck that. He shook off the intimidation tactic and focused on the true threat. It came with the third step. The illusion of empty, rocky terrain vanished. A cloaking barrier. He ducked just in time as a blade whistled over his head.
He charged forward, ramming the solid body of a man swathed in Saracen garb. Like the Crusades, just as Cai had said. Turban, face scarf, and sashed tunic. A dozen more like him had been waiting, and now they spilled out, surrounding him. No, not all. Several were already gone, one of them leaving a brief impression of wide dark eyes, the whites rolling in terror as the man was yanked away from Uthe and disappeared into a blast of magic that sent a wave of heat rolling along the back of Uthe's neck.
Keldwyn had entered the fray.
Uthe slammed his elbow into the nose of one grappling him from behind, and broke the wrist of another so his curved blade clattered to the stone. The weapon had been a poor choice in these close quarters, one surprise swing the most it could accomplish before the fight became grunting, ugly hand-to-hand. Elbows, knees and fists became the measures of survival. A dagger sliced Uthe's arm, but it brought his opponent close enough for a headlock, where he crushed the skull as efficiently as a nutcracker. Thank God, these were mere mortals, the only magical enhancement they'd possessed in the cloaking spell. Whoever had sent them had hoped the element of surprise would result in a lucky strike.
But they'd also moved too soon. Uthe and Keldwyn hadn't even breached the cave yet. Uthe detected an element of frustrated rage in the dark magic. Despite being immersed in blood and violence, he bared his teeth in savage satisfaction. Not so easy to control your minions at this distance, is it?
He caught a brief glimpse of Kel. The Fae Lord was using flashes of glamor to confuse his opponents, putting himself left when he was right, above when he was below. Yet when the time for contact came, Uthe wasn't surprised to see Keldwyn was accomplished in hand-to-hand fighting. The heel of his palm drove the nose of one attacker into his brain. A graceful pivot ducked him beneath the guard of another, putting him behind his opponent. Kel twisted the Saracen's head, a terrifyingly effortless snapping of the spine. It was like watching a cook take a chicken's head.
As another of his own assailants tried to rise, Uthe drove his fist into the man's rib cage and through the heart. The bloody heat of it, the violent disruption of its rhythmic beat, was something he hadn't experienced in some time. His own heart was pounding like thundering hooves. He rose to his feet, taking stock. Not that he was counting, but it looked like he'd taken down five and Kel took eight. Well, the Fae had the advantage of his magic.
Keldwyn came to him in a swift sinuous stride, assuming a back-to-back position with Uthe as they listened together for reinforcements. None were forthcoming. Not yet, at least.
Uthe dropped to his heels, giving the dead men a closer look. Head scarf, skirted tunic, boots, a belted jerkin over it. No evidence of the modern world. No watch, no T-shirt. He picked up the blade of the one who'd first attacked him. It was authentic, the same weapon the Saracens had used during the Crusades. Dipping his head, he inhaled deeply. People now had a different odor than they had during that time. Different food, less preservatives, different types of hygiene. Olfactory memory was strong for vampires. If he closed his eyes, this scent took him back hundreds of years.
"They don't belong here. This isn't a modern day sect." Uthe studied the dead men, eyes glazed, faces slack. "I think they've been brought here from the past. Saracens. Deserters, not part of the regular army or true believers, so at least not innocents."
"And from their mindless fervor, under a spell as well." Kneeling, Keldwyn tore a strip off a tunic and reached for Uthe's arm, gripping it above where the dagger had sliced him. "You'll need this to help the clotting. It's still bleeding heavily."
Uthe hadn't paid any attention to the wound, beyond positioning it so the blood dripped into the ground instead of on himself. Keldwyn did an efficient field dressing on the knife wound. His hands lingered on Uthe's arm, giving him a hard, quick squeeze. "You should be more careful, Varick. If you'd been a blink slower, that first human would have taken your head."
"If I'd been that slow, I'd have deserved it." Hearing his given name on Keldwyn's lips was unsettling. Uthe pushed away the feelings, as well as the kneejerk reaction to tell him not to use it. "Not all of us have glamor at our disposal, my lord."
"Hmm. Since you face possible incineration, I'll let the insult to my fighting skills pass. Let's get into your sorceress's cave before more reinforcements are sent."
Keldwyn's expression said he wasn't going to wait much longer for that explanation Uthe had promised, especially since Uthe didn't seem overly surprised to have warriors from past history thrown in their path. However, he did understand the need to find a more defensible position first. Picking up the discarded pack, Uthe led the way up the incline.
He hadn't been certain how much of the terrain was actual and what had been manufactured by the cloaking spell, but the rock overhangs became even narrower,
forming a useful choke point at the tapered entrance to the sorceress's lair.
The death smell increased exponentially, but he focused on the low hum of energy hovering around the opening. Mindful of Keldwyn's greater expertise in this field, he shifted enough to give the Fae a better view.
Keldwyn had closed his eyes, though, absorbing the magic through other senses. "An extremely complex protection spell, one with a variety of lethal snares to it," he said without opening them. "But there is a way past them, triggered by the right person. When you entered her home, were there traditional words of courtesy you offered?"
Understanding his intent, Uthe spoke clearly. "I come to your door in peace. In the name of the mission we share, may the Madman of the Wilderness forever be praised."
Silence, but the humming changed. His own senses weren't as keen, for vampires weren't magic users, but Keldwyn's gaze flickered in acknowledgement. "It responded to your voice." He looked thoughtful. "I believe she made provision for you to enter without harm."
"Are you certain?"
"No. But fairly so." The Fae looked annoyed. "I care little for you risking yourself, but see no way around it."
"Then no time like the present." He paused. From a sad spurt of tenderness, he finished the ritual greeting he'd used on his rare visits. "I enter as your guest, and will do you no harm."
"As long as you act like a guest, you'll be treated as one. If not, I'll feed you to my djinn."
He heard the echo of her tart voice in his head, saw the bright eyes and lips that rarely smiled, though she always seemed grimly amused with the world. He moved forward, eyes searching the darkness, all senses adjusted for anything amiss.
There was no threat, but as he moved through the narrow defile and into the main chamber, his heart constricted at the sight that awaited him. There were times he wished a vampire couldn't see in the dark so well. Cai's banked rage made even more sense now. While the younger vampire would not have been able to look into the cave and see the sorceress, a violent death had a particular scent to it that Rand's keen nose, as well as vampire senses, would have detected.
