The Geomancer (35 page)

He would never make it. He was near the center of the broad lake. His head arched back in a desperate attempt to keep his nose and mouth above the water. Within seconds, the depths grabbed him again and swallowed him down toward the darkness.

Water slipped into his lungs. He panicked, twisting in pain, his eyes bulging. He silently shouted. He thought of Adele waiting anxiously for him to return. He reached once more for the surface, but it seemed miles away.

A shadow crossed in front of the light above him. The water churned as something entered the lake.

Had Adele followed him? He tried to see her, but his vision faded and his limbs hung limp in the water. Darkness surrounded him.

Then a gush of water coughed past his lips. He was on his back with an arm tight around his chest. He was being dragged across the surface of the lake toward the shore.

He tried to speak. “Ad—,” he choked out. He struggled to turn and look at her.

“Don't move,” came a masculine voice. “Just lie back or you'll drown both of us.”

Takeda.

“How . . . did—?” Gareth broke off into wracking coughs as his lungs expelled more water. Only then did Gareth's foggy brain realize the samurai was swimming. He had never known a vampire to swim. They were terrified of the water, with good reason. “How are—?”

“Enough talk!” barked Takeda sharply. “Stay still. I've never done this with another.”

Takeda's swimming was barely that. He slapped at the surface with his free arm. Instead of being vertical in the water, they lay flat upon it. Gareth attempted to relax—a difficult feat. The thought of the cavernous empty deep yawing beneath them stirred his fear. Water continued to rush over his face. Waves pushed by the wind and Takeda's frantic motions agitated the area around them. Gareth desperately tried to keep water from slipping into his open mouth as he struggled to breathe and remain calm.

He felt Takeda's legs kicking powerfully under him. It was a similar motion he had seen Adele use when she was soaking in her vast pools in Victoria Palace. The expanse of the bath meant she had to nearly swim across to him. Often she had tried to coax him in with her. Always he denied her. Now he wished he hadn't.

An indeterminable amount of time passed. Takeda's strength waned, his breathing only ragged gasps. The air misted constantly in front of him. Ice had formed on their exposed skin and hair.

Soon they were sinking as much as moving. Gareth knew that they would both drown if he didn't do something. He pulled at Takeda's arm holding him tight.

“Let me help.”

“Do you . . . know how?”

“Obviously not. But show me.” Gareth felt the grip relent. Immediately, he sank.

“Lie flat on the water.” Takeda's orders came quick and strained. “Kick. Stretch your arms out. Push the water past you. Keep kicking.”

Gareth tried to emulate the samurai. It was a frantic explosion of churning water. Too quick. Too fast. He slipped deeper into the lake.

“Slow down. Don't panic!” Takeda shouted to be heard over the splashing tumult. “Take a deep breath and hold it. Fill up your lungs. It will keep you on top.”

Gareth sucked in as deep a breath as he could muster and to his astonishment, he didn't sink as far or as fast as before. Takeda grabbed Gareth's shoulders and steered him in the direction of the shoreline, which was much closer than it had been before. Hope flared in Gareth and gave him the strength to strike out for it.

“Slowly, or you'll exhaust yourself,” Takeda warned him.

“Too late . . . for that,” rasped Gareth. Still, he forced himself to reduce his frantic paddling to rhythmic slaps. He stopped talking, as the exhalations of his breath only served to make him sink. He gulped in more air and held his breath. His head spun from the exertion and the odd way of breathing. His body felt more numb than usual.

It seemed like hours later when stones scraped Gareth's hands and knees as he reached the shore. He dragged in painful breaths, collapsing on the lapping bank. Takeda crawled up alongside him. Neither spoke for several minutes.

Finally Gareth croaked, “Thank you.”

Takeda nodded wearily, his topknot flopping over slightly from its tight gather. “The Tear?”

Gareth shook his head. He desperately wanted to resume the pursuit of the airship. It was possible he could catch it. Blood still gushed from the numerous wounds. The weakness in his limbs left him no strength to rise from the shallows. Takeda literally heaved him out of the water and onto dry ground.

“You have to feed or you'll die,” Takeda commented, looking at the horrific wounds.

“At the monastery,” Gareth muttered in a voice that seemed far away even to his ears.

“Too far. There's a shrine close by. Human pilgrims visit it frequently. Come. We may be fortunate.”

Gareth staggered to his feet with Takeda's help. “How did you learn to swim?”

Takeda grunted, taking most of his weight. “There is much time in the monastery, enough to learn new things.”

“And you chose swimming?”

Takeda shrugged.

“I must really learn that skill.” Gareth gave a weak laugh. “It could come in very handy.”

“Shut up and walk.”

Takeda was right about the shrine. A lone pilgrim was there, placing incense and food at the stones. The moment he saw the two bedraggled figures, he raced to help them. It wasn't until he was easing Gareth to the ground that he realized what they were.

Takeda grabbed the pilgrim's arm tight before the human could flee the demons in terror. He nodded in Gareth's direction. “Help him. He will die without a blood tribute. We won't kill you.”

The pilgrim's gaze jerked from Takeda's fierce countenance to Gareth, who looked more like drowned cat than an otherworldly demon at the moment. A smile attempted to cross his lips as reassurance to his frightened meal, but it probably came out more like an evil grimace.

It had less than a comforting effect on the poor man, but still the pilgrim nodded. Blood darkened Gareth's clothes and stained his pale skin. He lay limp on the ground. However, his eyes blazed with hunger. His thirst for survival fanned the hunter inside him as the man came closer. The pilgrim lowered his head baring his neck from under thick folds of wool, but Gareth grabbed his wrist and sank his teeth into the man's flesh. He was embarrassed at his own desperation.

The warm thick rush of blood tasted like heaven. He closed his eyes and focused on drawing as much as he needed to replenish what he had lost. There came with it the rich gamey taste of yak and an odd array of spices. The man's fear made the blood rich. Gareth could have drained him dry, and there was a part of his instinct that bade him to do so, but civilization and reason reasserted itself in time and Gareth released him after a minute.

The pilgrim swayed light-headedly at the sudden loss of blood, his skin now as pale as Gareth's.

“You have brought honor to your family.” Takeda told the pilgrim, then found some food and drink in the man's belongings and prompted him to eat.

Gareth closed his eyes as vigor slowly returned to his body. He could feel his extremities again.

Gareth roused from a drowsy slumber. He saw that the sun had gone behind the crest of the mountains. He had fallen asleep, but not for long. Takeda crouched next to him, staring quietly into the distance. “Takeda, what about you? Did you feed?”

“No.” The samurai regarded Gareth, studying his wounds again. “I have nothing that rest won't take care of.”

The pilgrim glanced between them, packing his meager belongings. They were speaking in vampire, which gave the man little clue as to what fate awaited him.

Gareth said to the man in Tibetan, “As soon as you feel strong enough, you are free to return to your family. I thank you for your kindness. You have saved my life.”

The pilgrim's expression went from fear to shock to relief. He bowed before both of them repeatedly. After draining his flask dry, he said a final heartfelt prayer at the shrine and ran off for home in the dusk.

Takeda shifted away from the pile of holy rocks, unsettled by the power of the pilgrim's prayers. “Rest a while longer. We'll start for the monastery when you are able.”

“I'm ready now.” Gareth sat up. “I need to get back to Adele.” His last vision was of her bleeding form. She was so much frailer than a vampire.

Takeda scowled at him. “Your wounds could reopen.”

Gareth fixed him with a hard stare. “There's no time. I've failed already. We have to pursue Goronwy. If he uses the Tear of Death, it will spell the end for Adele and all of humanity.” He half expected for Takeda to shrug his shoulders and ask why that should be of any concern to him. It was something Cesare would have countered with.

But Takeda nodded grimly and helped Gareth the rest of the way to his feet.

“Do you think the monastery is safe?” Gareth asked.

“Yes. Once your Witchfinder departed, the resolve of Chengdu fled. We were routing the stragglers when Adele found me and bid me follow you.”

“She's all right.” A weak smile slipped across Gareth's lips.

“Yes.”

“She was worried for me, eh?”

“Good thing, too. You would have drowned.”

“You could have drowned as well. What you risked—?”

“Perhaps that was the reason I trained all those years. A test of sorts.” Takeda shrugged. “Otherwise, why else would I have chosen swimming to learn of all things? Yidak would call it karma.”

“Not many vampires would've taken that risk to save another.”

“We have much in common.”

“We both use swords. What else do we share?”

“You still have to believe you're unique.” Takeda huffed a silent laugh at Gareth's ignorance. “That's fine. We all did when we came here. I did too, until years ago when I led Chengdu's packs in an attack on the monastery. I saw this place and met Yidak. I realized I served the wrong master so I abandoned Chengdu for Yidak.”

“How long have you been here?”

“It seems like my entire life, but it's only the useful part of it.”

“Are you ever going to leave?”

Silence hung in the air. Gareth looked over to see Takeda pondering, as if the question had never occurred to him before. The samurai merely sat quietly, staring into the sinking sun.

It was at least another hour before Gareth felt strong enough to take to the wind and let it do the work of carrying them home. From a distance, he saw Adele pacing the ramparts, wrapped in a thick coat, waiting anxiously. The hard lines on her face only relaxed when Gareth and Takeda landed beside her, though they reappeared as she took in his miserable state.

Gareth was too exhausted to speak. He noticed her own blood-streaked form, but didn't see any critical wounds. She was bandaged, and, though pale, she moved with more strength than he at the moment. As they limped toward their room, Takeda filled her in, using sparse words and descriptions. It wasn't until the last point that Gareth saw her wince in pain. The relic remained in Goronwy's possession.

“Damn,” she whispered. “Heaven help us all.”

C
HAPTER 34

“They should have been here by now. It's been two days.” Adele held the stone that she had used to send a signal to Captain Hariri.

Gareth wanted to placate Adele's concern, but his own level of anxiety had been steadily rising. “I'll go look for them.”

A scowl of irritation showed that she couldn't go with him, but she said nothing. She knew the mountains were treacherous to impossible on foot, and she would only slow him down. “Take Takeda with you.”

Now it was his turn to be annoyed. “I'm fully recovered.”

“I doubt that, but that's not the issue. We don't know why they're late. Nothing short of a disaster would have stopped Hariri. I don't want you walking into trouble alone.”

She was right, of course. His strength had not been enough to defeat Flay or Goronwy, nor retrieve the Tear from them. “If he's willing.”

He was willing, as was Hiro. The three of them departed from the monastery walls within the hour.

“Do you know their last location?” Takeda made room for Hiro between them as they lifted into the air.

Gareth wore Greyfriar's costume again, although he only looped his long scarf around his neck. “Close enough.”

Takeda said nothing more as they flew through the towering mountains of black granite. Keeping their bodies flat and actually increasing their density to fight against the crushing gusts, they tore along a valley to the east. Gareth pointed down and they descended toward a distant plateau where the
Edinburgh
should have been moored. The ship was nowhere to be seen. Gareth caught the faintest hint of blood and smoke in the gusting winds. That did not bode well.

They veered north, trying to follow the scent. It wasn't long before they saw wreckage strewn across the plateau. Bodies lay partially buried under a fine dusting of snow. A cold sweat gripped Gareth as they followed the trail of debris from high above.

Finally he saw the airship far below. It lay almost on its side, the masts digging into the ground. A deep furrow cut almost a hundred feet behind it. The dirigible was still intact. Suddenly there was a volley of gunfire. Takeda veered off, as did Gareth. Hiro dove down to the ground and they followed him, dropping out of sight from the sharpshooters. Hiro stuck his finger through a bullet hole in his tunic.

Gareth wrapped his face and pulled up his hood. He was completely Greyfriar once again. Even the timbre of his voice was quite different. “I'll walk in so as not to alarm anyone with a large gun. Stay behind me. Far behind me.”

They trod over the frozen ground for more than a mile until the zeppelin came into view through a narrow crevice. Greyfriar studied the area around them to make sure there weren't snipers positioned. He slipped up to the last outcropping before the open plateau where the airship lay.