Page 9

Chapter 9

Travelers

Cian

C ian held his position by the seamless stone wall, leaning back with his shoulders on the white marble, waiting as the assembled immortals joined Daniel and Rory at the settee Cian and Fenric had vacated. There was a glimmer of energy and then Fenric was standing as a sidhe amidst the group, and he daintily picked his way out of the crowd and went to Cian.

“They’re ready,” Fenric said, and leaned on the wall beside Cian, so close their shoulders were touching. He took a deep breath, scenting. “They’re carrying blood with them.”

“For Rageshi,” Cian replied. “He’s going to be very hungry.”

Connie approached, leading the group. Constantine, Ricon, Rory, Daniel, Fenric, and then finally Cian, all ready to depart. Connie and Ricon carried large backpacks, and Cian caught a hint of blood in the air. Nothing major enough to give away their positions if they came across a predator or supernatural being with a strong noise—Cian was attuned to the underhill, the mound, and it knew exactly what was inside of it at any time, and so, therefore, did Cian.

“The blood?” Cian asked, nodding at the bags Connie and Ricon both carried.

“Freshly donated human blood with preservation spells,” Connie confirmed. “Enough for several vampires to gorge. Two backpacks of blood units might be enough to soothe my sire’s bloodlust after waking.”

“Let us hope,” Ricon murmured, the first words he’d spoken since arriving. Not one for talking, which Cian appreciated.

“Put your hand on the wall, striga,” Cian told Connie, the old word for vampire making Connie smile briefly. Connie obeyed, hand flat to the stone wall. “Picture for the stone the place where your sire sleeps. How it smells, how the air tastes, the sound of birds calling in the trees, the rustle of wind over the grass. How the moonlight casts shadows over the stones. Relive that moment you said goodbye, and tell the stone everything.”

Connie closed his eyes and Cian listened to the underhill, and knew when the underhill listened in turn. A faint shiver went through the temple, a bit of dust falling, a sound of stone sighing as it settled.

They were in Armenia.

The archway back to the Salvatore library remained open, their family watching through the opening, and Cian nodded once to Angel before lifting a hand and dismissing the archway. In case they met with an enemy force or Rageshi woke unable to control himself, they wanted no way for danger to get into the underhill and then into the Mansion. They were more than a match for anything, or so Cian assumed, but he agreed with caution, and let the archway back to the Mansion fade away to nothing.

Now if Rageshi was uncontrollable, the Salvatore clan was not going to suffer a second massacre.

The stone under Connie’s hand twisted and warped, and ran as water, as mutable as mud, and Connie dropped his hand and stepped away just as the wall became an arch, and within it was darkness.

Natural stone, rough and dusty, made up the archway, a dark golden color. Not the white marble of the temple. Out of the darkness came a sound, and Cian smiled.

Crickets.

The archway settled and sighed, and it was done reforming. Stars twinkled overhead in the clear night sky, and the moon rose over mountains. Their eyes adjusted, and Cian saw with ease in the darkness of the night.

“Just over eight hours until dawn,” Cian cautioned. “Let us hope we’re close.”

Connie took a deep, scenting breath, eyes wide, pupils wide as well, and the vampire smiled. “We’re close.”

“Lead the way, Connie,” Cian said, waving a hand at the arch. “I’ll bring up the rear with Fenric.”

Fenric

Fenric walked through the arch into the wilds of the Armenian preserve where Rageshi’s lair had lain hidden for two thousand years. The night was alive with sound—crickets and other insects chirping, the sounds of small animals scurrying away in the underbrush as the party stepped through the archway. Fenric, Ricon and Constantine were predators and the wildlife knew it and retreated from the area.

With a casual wave of his hand, Cian dismissed the archway. With a soft rumble of stone over stone, the arch collapsed in on itself, falling to the ground, until nothing was left, not even rock debris to show the arch had ever been there.

Constantine, the City Master of Boston, appeared to be perfectly comfortable, adjusting the heavily laden backpack on his shoulders, and gesturing toward the deeper shadows, up an incline that grew steadily steeper the higher it went. “That way. Into the mountains.”

“How far are we?” Daniel asked, standing in his mate’s shadow, the moon overhead bright enough to illuminate the way even if they didn’t all have preternatural sight.

“It’s been at least forty years since I was here last in person,” Constantine replied, “but if memory serves, we’re about an hour away on foot by mortal speeds. We’ll be there in a few minutes if we run.”

“I vote for running,” Daniel said. “I can keep up now.”

Cian cast a glance at Fenric, who nodded. In a glimmer of power, Fenric transformed from his bipedal form to the large black wildcat. He was faster on four paws than two feet, and his claws and fangs were far, far bigger.

A hand ran over his head, and Fenric bumped his muzzle into Cian’s hip, tail thrashing in delight at the touch. Cian did it almost absentmindedly, as if it was habit already, and Fenric adored it.

“We’ll stay at sidhe speeds,” Constantine said to Daniel. “That’s still plenty fast enough. Everyone keep your senses alert for enforcers or other beings. Cian and the temple got us far closer than I was anticipating, and that’s in our favor, but I won’t assume we’re alone out here.”

Everyone nodded. Vampires were a bit faster than sidhe, but if they held back a little everyone would be able to keep up with the two vampires without a problem, even the newest sidhe.

“This way,” Constantine said softly, and broke out into a run, just short of blurring speeds.

Ricon, Rory, and Daniel followed right on Constantine’s heels, and Fenric and Cian brought up the rear.

Cian

Traveling in the dark through a strange mountain forest was as easy as taking a stroll through the Boston Common back home. Or at least, it would be, if the forest didn’t reek of foul magics. They slowed as a unit, the group sensing the blood magics at the same time, and Cian took a moment to ascertain with his senses that they were alone.

“Blood mages have been nearby,” Connie whispered, echoing Cian’s thoughts.

“I can smell the blood spoor,” Cian said, Rory humming in agreement. Daniel stayed in his mate’s shadow, his expression one of disgust. Cian briefly squeezed Daniel’s shoulder and the young man gave him a glance of gratitude. “The wind has carried it closer than they actually are.”

“How close?” Connie asked.

Cian reached out, asking the stone of the mountains under their feet, the peaks rising in front of them. The stone whispered of foul magics, a violation of the natural order, and people who carried baneful objects and magic that was corrupted beyond tolerance or recovery.

“Blood mages, the untrained kind, several miles to the northwest,” Cian pointed in the exact direction. “They aren’t moving—likely camped for the night.”

“I sense the same,” Rory agreed.

“Enforcers?” Connie asked.

“Maybe,” Cian replied, his mind parsing out the magic he sensed in the ambient fields, the presence of the blood mages as painful as a seeping wound in the natural landscape of the world. “They aren’t trained—they feel chaotic. Perhaps the Council has turned some of their people to blood magic and let them fall into addiction? I would not put it past them.”

“If you sense them move, let us know,” Connie said, and Cian nodded in agreement.

They stood on a plateau of sorts, overlooking a small ravine that served as an outlet for a small river that cut a narrow path through the mountains.

“We will follow the river to his lair,” Connie whispered, pointing to the spot where water trickled from the ravine. “It was a dry path over two thousand years ago.”

“Time changes everything,” Ricon said, adjusting the backpack of blood on his shoulders. “Let us hope the lair remains intact.”

Grim-faced, Connie nodded in agreement and led the way down the side of the plateau, sliding down the sandy embankment.

Cian followed, Fenric at his side, Daniel and Rory between them and the vampires. Before they reached the bank, Cian thought about the water they’d be walking through, and his boots changed in a shimmer of energy, reaching over his knees and sealing to become waterproof.

Rory’s boots did the same, and with a whisper, Rory told Daniel how to ask his own footwear to adapt to his needs, and Daniel’s silent delight at the change in his footwear made Cian smile despite the urgency of their mission.

Fenric transformed into his sidhe form, and he glared at the rocks and the river before sighing in distaste, but he approached the river without hesitation.

They reached the river, the water only a foot or so deep but rocky and difficult to maneuver, even for them. Fenric stepped lightly from stone to stone up the river as the rest of them slogged through the current, though they were far more quiet than a group of mortals would be taking the same route.

They reached the entrance to the narrow ravine, the walls angling high overhead, the riverbed the only path to take. Cian took a deep breath, the others doing the same, searching for any hints of enforcers or blood mages passing through.

Nothing.

“Anything?” Connie asked over his shoulder.

“No one has come this way,” Rory voiced what Cian already knew. “I sense sentient life and blood spoor, but not in the direction you’re taking us. It’s several miles in the other direction. I believe the lair remains undiscovered.”

Connie nodded once and led the way upstream into the ravine.

Cian touched Rory on the shoulder before he could follow, pointing back over his shoulders to the tracks they’d left in the sand of the riverbank. Rory nodded, and with a slight gesture of his hand, the earth shivered along their tracks, smoothing out the evidence of their passing.

Rory then held a hand out to his husband, Daniel taking it, and the pair followed Ricon and Connie.

“Smart,” Fenric whispered, smiling at Cian.

“Hmm,” Cian hummed. “You’re going to get wet,” Cian stated the obvious. Fenric wasn’t going to be able to avoid the water by using stepping stones once they entered the ravine, and he was quite a bit shorter than the rest of them—meaning the water would reach much higher on Fenric than Cian. “Come here.”

Cian held out an arm, Fenric blinking at him in surprised delight. “You want to carry me?”

“You weigh nothing,” Cian assured him. “Come.”

“I can take one of my smaller forms?” Fenric offered even as he took Cian’s arm and let Cian lift him from the rock and swing him on his back.

“No need,” Cian replied, shifting Fenric until he was able to hook his arms around Fenric’s legs at the knees with Fenric’s arms around his shoulders. Fenric was limber and slinky, perfect for carrying, and he truly weighed nothing.

Fenric rested his chin on Cian’s shoulder, his breath on the side of Cian’s neck, and a faint shiver went down his spine. Cian merely accepted the strange reaction and followed behind the others, bringing up the rear, the water quickly rising to his knees.

Fenric

Fenric was ready to die of happiness, if such a thing were possible. He hoped not since he wanted to enjoy the experience of Cian Brennan carrying him for as long as possible.

The walls of the ravine were about fifteen feet high, made of stone and sandy earth, and the narrow view above of the starry sky was pleasant enough. The water smelled of swift currents and wet stone, and the lack of animal scents along the river in the ravine told Fenric that the current was usually higher, matching the water lines on the walls rising to either side.

The ravine was quickly becoming a slot canyon, the earth of the ravine giving way to solid stone, narrowing further, forcing them to walk single file, the water now rising to their thighs. Fenric eyed the water warily, and clung a bit tighter to Cian’s shoulders, the water level close to wetting his feet.

“I won’t drop you,” Cian murmured.

“And I appreciate that very much,” Fenric replied, though he was a bit worried. He could swim, that wasn’t the issue—he genuinely disliked getting wet, and hated water except for warm showers and bubble baths. River water was not clean.

Fenric was very spoiled by modern living and the advent of indoor plumbing.

The water level crept higher and touched Fenric’s boots. The water was moving faster now too, the current increasing as the walls grew even more narrow—with a hiss, Fenric transformed, and became a tiny cat huddling in the curve of Cian’s shoulder, crawling under the thick fall of green hair to hide. A warm hand cradled him there, keeping him safe.

“Is Fenric alright?” Daniel asked over his shoulder, worried.

“He dislikes water,” Rory explained.

“Oh, that’s right, cats don’t like water,” Daniel replied. A bit simplistic but accurate enough.

“The water won’t go any higher than our waists,” Constantine said, voice loud enough to reach Cian and Fenric at the rear of the line. “There’s a split in the slot canyon ahead that we’ll be taking that gets away from the water. Almost there.”

Cian held Fenric as he slogged through the now waist-high water, and Fenric curled in his tail to keep it from getting wet. He tried to be careful with his claws, clinging to the leather armor protecting Cian’s chest and shoulders. There was a shimmer of magic from the twins and Daniel, and their armor was suddenly waterproof as well.

The sound of cascading water came from ahead, and Fenric peeked out through the curtain of Cian’s hair to see a split in the canyon, just as Constantine promised. A path to the right rose in elevation and disappeared around a corner, the floor of the canyon transitioned to dry sand, and to the left, they could hear the sound of water and a thrumming roar.

A waterfall.

Thankful they were going to dry land, Fenric shivered as the sound of the waterfall rose the closer they got to the split—he caught a glimpse of mist and rushing water down the left fork before Cian jumped from the water and landed on dry earth.

“All safe now,” Cian said softly, and Fenric eased his death-grip on the leathers and relaxed himself, transforming as he did so into his bipedal form. Cian held him still, and Fenric stared up into mercurial eyes and tried to remember what he was going to say, but his thoughts flitted free. There was only Cian and his stormy eyes, which seemed to take his measure and see into the secret depths of his being.

“Aww,” Daniel whispered. “That’s so cute.”

Rory chuckled. “Come, beloved, leave them to it.”

Fenric realized he was standing in the circle of Cian’s arms and was staring up at the High Court Sidhe with wide eyes and a silly smile.

Oh dear. No way to hide his infatuation now, not that he’d been trying all that hard, or at all, over the last week.

Fenric found himself blushing, cheeks warm, and he ducked his head, hair falling over his face. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Cian replied, and he brushed a strand of long, black hair out of Fenric’s eyes and tucked it behind his ear. His fingers were warm, skin soft but for calluses from wielding his daggers. Cian smiled down at him, then tilted his head in the direction the others went. “Come, let’s not get left behind.”

Cian

The entrance to the cave was small, about five feet in height, and came to a dead end after only a few strides. Hardly the lair of a powerful immortal, but more than enough space for their party to squeeze inside.

Yet Cian saw the truth in the stone. Behind a false wall lay a winding path through yards of stone and earth, deep down into the mountainside. There was a cavern at the end, one where magic and blood lay twined together, and a presence slept.

Rageshi.

“He sleeps undisturbed.” Cian offered from the rear of the group, sitting on his heels in the entrance to the small pseudo-cave, Fenric at his side.

“You can sense him?” Connie asked.

“I can,” Cian said. “The stone whispers to me of the passing years and a slumbering immortal left in peace. No one has been here in a very long time.”

He and Fenric kept watch on their rear, letting the others enter the pseudo-cave first. The slot canyon ended here at the wall, the end full of dirt and debris and lacking the pristine sand floor of the other sections in the system.

There was a slope of dirt from a landslide that partially filled the end of the canyon and came within a few feet of the small entrance, where low brush and grasses grew stubbornly in the earth. There was a narrow view of the night sky high overhead, and the flutter of bat wings could be heard over the gentle breeze that rustled tree leaves far above them.

Cian sensed when Connie removed the medallion from the silk pouch. It was a medallion crafted with blood magic, but of a discipline so old it was the prototype for all known blood magic. Back when blood magic was more about the sacrifice than the siphoning of life magics, before the corruption by greed and shallow desires turned it into a mind-destroying addiction.

From his position at the cave entrance, Cian glanced over his shoulder and saw Connie press the medallion to his lips, which glistened with his own blood, bottom lip bitten by his fangs.

Wet with blood, the medallion left a smear when Connie pressed it to the dusty stone wall and whispered his sire’s name.

A shake of the dirt beneath their feet, and the wall collapsed into dust and sand. A powerful gust of air rushed inward, dust flying into the darkness, sucked into the lair as the air pressure adjusted after being sealed for two thousand years.

“Should we set a guard here?” Ricon asked, kneeling beside Connie. Daniel and Rory peered with avid interest down the revealed path.

If Rageshi woke in a frenzy of blood lust it would conceivably take all of them to control him and prevent him from escaping.

“No need,” Cian said, and he gestured for everyone to head into the passage. “I’ll set a glamour and a trap. No one will be able to see past it, and if someone touches it, I’ll be alerted.”

“Good,” Connie murmured, his lip healed and no longer wet with blood. “Follow me. There are no traps, but the years may have made the passage unstable. Be careful.”

Cian focused and summoned a glamour of a small stone overhang in place of the entrance, too small for anyone but a tiny animal to take shelter, and then set a thin line of energy just past the glamour, a trip-wire of sorts that, once snapped, would alert him.

Fenric smiled at him and then dashed into the passage behind the others. Cian smiled at the cat-sidhe’s exuberance and followed his companions into the dark.