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Uthe paused, head tilted. But then Keldwyn saw it. It was the briefest of flashes, but in it Uthe clasped the one thing he knew better than anything else. Obedience to God's will, now reinforced by obedience to the Master who loved him.
By some miracle, Uthe made it to his feet. Kel could see the pain that racked the vampire, the effort it took to focus past the tricks of his mind and do what needed to be done. He tried not to think of what such a monumental strain could do to the mind. To Uthe's heart and body. The vampire's eyes were unfocused, lips peeled back in an agonized grimace, but he still had the Spear in his grasp. The demon shrieked.
"Now, Varick. Do it."
Flame roared out from the altar, over Uthe, over Keldwyn, over the courtyard. But it was not enough to blind Keldwyn. In one violent move, Uthe shoved the metal point through the eye socket of the skull.
The bone shattered. Uthe jerked the weapon free and did it again, until instead of stabbing, he was hacking the skull into pieces.
When it was nothing more than shards and mangled flesh on the altar, he fell to his knees, staring at his hands. Kel pushed against the shielding, and it still refused to give way, though he could tell the demon's magic was churning, shifting. Uthe's mind was back to that gray nothingness again, no different from the wall of the Shattered World. He had no strength, no vigor left to look toward Keldwyn again. Only one word got through.
Goodbye.
"No," Kel snarled.
Energy was swirling around all of them. It was wild, unfocused, the death throes of a demon leaving the earthly realm. But the beast had had time to throw one more distraction their way as he sought his victory.
Daegan seized Kel's arm, yanking his attention out of Uthe's head and to the present. More Saracens were charging through the archway behind them. Screaming their war cry, some of them mounted, others on foot brandishing their swords, all coming at a full run. The line around Kel was regrouping at Jacob's shout, the men ready to start the fight anew.
Kel didn't care. Uthe was slipping away from him. Had that been part of the price of Fatima's magic, a bribe to get the demon to go on his way? He'd lost the Baptist, but would be given a faithful Templar to accompany him into a hellish eternity instead?
He didn't accept that. He wouldn't accept it. Turning away from the fight, Kel threw himself against that barrier, calling on all his skill as a magic user, all his physical strength as a fighter. He would figure out the shape of it, he would get him back.
Then he felt a pulling sensation. The floor was becoming unstable, the air around him shifting. His heart leaped in his throat, his stomach thudding to his knees as he realized what was happening. The souls were freed, the demon on its way back to Hell. The task was done.
"No," he shouted. "Don't..."
Sand, blood and screams vanished.
* * *
He emerged from the nightmare, sweating, bloody, on his hands and knees, one long dagger still clasped in his hand. He was on sleek translucent tile, gazing through the thick wavering ice at a school of fish below. They were being herded playfully by a team of water Fae with feathery tails and high jewel-toned crests instead of hair. One twisted in the water, saw him and squeaked. Fish and Fae alike darted away.
He was looking at the moat that ran beneath Caislean Uisce, the Castle of Water. What Uthe had called the Ice Castle. He was in the Queen's large throne room. Keldwyn pushed himself up to his heels, his blood-soaked blade scraping against the ice blue marble tile that outlined the translucent ones. The blood left a smear. Other drops fell as he lifted his hand to his brow to wipe it across his sand-gritted eyes. Now that he was out of the fray of battle, he noticed his arm had been cut. It would heal, like the mass of bruises and cuts he could feel over his body.
He shook off the disorientation and took an accounting of who was with him. Daegan and Gideon were a few feet away, both in similar condition with wounds that would need blood nourishment, but which would heal. Jacob was speaking to them.
Keldwyn looked around the room. His gaze passed over a small group of Fae nobles, but they were blurred images to him, of no consequence. Uthe. Where was Varick?
He struggled to his feet and spun around to be sure of it. Jacob was at his side. "He is not here, my lord."
He remembered now. Uthe on his knees, the demon trying to drag him down to Hell. If the demon hadn't succeeded, it still left Uthe in the Shattered World, facing the last desperate wave of the demon's army. The Templars weren't here, but had they vanished at the same time? Was Uthe facing them alone? Was he still lost in that gray void in his head, so the Saracens could cut the warrior down with no resistance at all, like a defenseless child? The idea enraged him. If the Queen had summoned them back, why were all of them here and Uthe wasn't? Had the demon's hold kept him from going through?
"Lord Keldwyn." Queen Rhoswen's imperious tone penetrated. Perhaps she'd been speaking for several moments, because Jacob touched his arm to command his attention. Yes, he needed to pay attention. There was nothing else more important than Varick, but only the Queen could permit him back through the gateway of the Shattered World. He'd have to find his vampire again. How long could he last, if he survived the Saracens, the demon? Keldwyn didn't want to think about Uthe wandering in that lost mind state for more than a second, let alone the two weeks Keldwyn had been there on his own.
"Your Majesty, you must send me back. Something happened. It is not finished. I don't know why I'm here..."
He registered that Rhoswen had a handful of her most powerful advisors in attendance, along with several of the Queen's Guard. Cayden, their captain, was here. He stood at her back, studying all with his usual singular focus. He'd assess threats to his Queen before assigning priority to any other matters requiring attention, like the new arrivals bleeding all o
ver her floor.
"You completed the task, Lord Keldwyn," Rhoswen said, drawing closer. Her gaze was sliding over him, assessing his injuries. She made a motion to one of her attendants and the young woman disappeared. Probably to get him first aid he wouldn't be here long enough to need.
"Yes. And no. The souls are released, and the demon has been dispatched back to its proper place. The Shattered World is in no danger from it being released there. But Lord Uthe--"
"Good. The relics remain there."
He had a momentary image of Uthe lifting the Spear and driving it through the skull. The Grail had been knocked across the altar, but he expected it was still lying there. "Yes. The Cross was on fire, burning, but...it may have survived. I need to return immediately."
"Not according to your presence here. I set the spell to hold you in the world until the task is completed, and we were more than fortunate it worked to pull you out." Rhoswen spoke patiently. "And I wasn't asking you to confirm the relics are there. I was telling you they are. I could not bring them out, but they are safe there for the moment."
Keldwyn blinked. "Your Majesty, Lord Uthe is still there. Why was he not drawn back with myself and these others?"
"I do not know." She shrugged. She had her hair swept up and captured with an array of tiny icicle clips. The soft white strands fell over her pale arms and the silver gossamer dress she wore. Today she had scrolled tattoos on her arms like an ice skater's pattern in winter.
