Page 64 of Night's Templar (Vampire Queen 13)

The only way to release John was to release the innocent, but something had to be here to keep the demon pinned down until the two of them could get clear. He had to be willing to take the innocent's place, for it was the anchor. Then he and Fatima's magic would make sure the demon was banished. Uthe would be his personal escort.

It was what Templars had originally been trained to do, escorting pilgrims to their destination, protecting them. He'd be a prison guard instead of a pilgrim's guardian. A prison guard trapped in his own prison.

Looking down, he discovered he was in full Templar battle gear once again. It was the only answer he needed. "You will play no more tricks, demon. We die together."

The sorceress had known Uthe would figure out. He removed the dagger from his belt. It wasn't wooden, but it was consecrated. In the cause of Christ, Uthe was certain it would do what it was intended to do.

"Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's..." Should one of your number be killed, "we know he has not perished, but has come safely home."

Bernard again, whose words and wisdom had been the spiritual backbone of the Order.

Dropping to one knee and uttering a short prayer of thanks, Uthe closed his eyes, visualized Keldwyn one more time, and shoved the dagger into his chest.

Chapter Sixteen

Though they were merely humans summoned from beyond the grave, their foes were deft with their blades, quick on their feet, and savage. Still, Keldwyn and the others held formation, battling them away from the altar until their side formed a solid line in front of it, a crescent wall to give Uthe the protection he needed. Keldwyn and Daegan held the center, taking the heaviest crush. He and the vampire assassin fought only far enough apart to be outside the sweep of their respective blades. The Templars, Gideon and Jacob worked on decimating the numbers of those who tried to get past them on the ends.

Though there was always precious little time to notice such things, Kel had brief glimpses of clever, brutal maneuverings on the part of the Green brothers. They used grace and speed as easily as sheer toe-to-toe brute strength to put bodies on the ground. The Templars fought as fearlessly as their history had suggested, displaying no fear and giving not an inch a ground. The enemy fought just as courageously, though, the air punctuated with shouts, the clang of metal. Grunts of exertion. Wounds flavored the burning smell of the courtyard with the sharp tang of blood. Everything smelled of death and rage, and the intense heat of battle cloaked them all.

They were gaining ground. They'd started five to one, and they were facing a more even number now. The Templars, Jacob and Gideon showed no sign of flagging. Likewise for Daegan, whose blade and long dagger flashed like lightning, the strikes close together and lethal.

As before, some magic worked, some didn't. With split second decisions to make, Keldwyn fought mainly with fist and blade. Knowing he was risking having a vital appendage lopped off, he nevertheless kept an eye on Uthe, a mere twenty feet out of the fight, standing at the altar. But the Templars had thought of that. Jacques was positioned just behind the line, getting the least of the fighting, but it put him in a position to call out if the demon sent anything unexpected against Uthe. Like now.

The squire shouted. Kel glanced back in time to see a dragon thrust its large, horned head through an opening in the castle rubble, to the right of Uthe. Teeth bared, it raised its head, preparing to shoot flame upon the vampire. Uthe had both hands in that silver-blue net, his eyes unfocused. His sword was propped against the table, forgotten. He was defenseless, oblivious to anything happening outside that magical sphere.

"Re-form to the right," Keldwyn roared. Thanking the gods for experienced warriors, he saw his allies grasp the situation and adjust the line fast as a whip unfurling to strike. He and Daegan advanced, taking on the bulk of the remaining two-legged enemy with the Templars to the left, as the ones to the right closed into a tighter arc around Uthe and faced the dragon.

"Need a moment," Kel snapped to Daegan. The vampire assassin lunged forward to guard Kel's back as he spun. Magic might have a sporadic effect on the Saracens, but the demon had put effort toward warding them and his energy was limited, especially now that he was under direct attack from Uthe. Had he risked a bluff, hoping Kel would assume the dragon was warded like the soldiers, and wouldn't even test it? If so, he'd figured wrong. Charging one of his daggers, Keldwyn shot lightning-infused fire at the beast's open maw.

The dragon stumbled back, roaring, wings slapping against the walls. A Saracen sword whistled so close behind Kel, it shaved off a layer of skin. A shallow wound, a graze. He ignored it. Daegan's body brushed against his and Keldwyn vaguely registered a gurgled scream as the vampire took care of the distraction.

The beast was too big for single shots to be effective fast enough. Sheathing the daggers and raising both hands, Keldwyn shouted the incantation and flung the net he formed outward.

It caught the beast around the head. As it tossed its giant cranium forward and back, up and down, trying to rid itself of the impediment, Kel was grimly satisfied to see he didn't have to tell the Templars to take the advantage. Gideon ran forward, Manfred at his heels. The intrepid vampire hunter stepped onto the dragon's knee like a stair and flung himself upward, driving his sword into the scaled neck while Manfred stabbed at the underside. The throat wasn't an easy target since the scales could be like armor, but Gideon, clawing his way up the side of the beast like he was scaling a rock wall, twisted his blade to a different angle and shoved it through. The dragon collapsed with a shriek, making the ground shake.

Kel spun to help Daegan re-engage, and found there was no longer any need. The last of the foe dropped as the vampire finished a follow-through with that deadly katana. He and the other Templars stood over a pile of sprawled bodies. None were moving.

His attention snapped back to Uthe. His vampire was on his knees, a black oil boiling out of the head and crawling up Uthe's arms. Kel bolted away from the line and to his side.

It was a novice's mistake. The shielding on Uthe was so solid, it was like hitting a brick wall. It knocked Keldwyn on his ass, bloodied his nose. Sensing the others coming to his aid, Kel snarled to keep them back and reached into Uthe's mind with the second mark. He couldn't find any awareness in the vampire, couldn't latch onto a random thought. All of it was a maze of gray fog, so thick Keldwyn stood at the periphery with no point of reference.

Yet Keldwyn felt a sucking sensation, like something vital was about to be ripped out of Uthe's mind. Though he wasn't touching him, he could sense Uthe's body shuddering with the strain. The miasma of evil magic swirled around him, tighter and tighter, like a cocoon. Now Keldwyn heard voices, but they weren't Uthe's. A cacophony of chuckling, shrieking and keening, bone-chilling and repugnant.

"He might send me to Hell, Fae," the demon howled. "But I will not go alone. You are helpless. You do not have the strength to resist all the power I now have to defeat you."

Strength comes...from...God...

It wasn't the Baptist. It was Uthe. Uthe was still in there. Uthe lifted his head with painstaking effort, as if he was pushing against a great weight. His gaze locked with Keldwyn's. Kel saw the demon simmering in the brown irises, yes. But he also saw Varick. It filled him with a violent wave of pride and love, seeing the valiant struggle the vampire was making against the demon's hold. He was holding open a window, using his connection to Keldwyn to give him the strength to do it. Since Keldwyn was in his mind, and a magic user, he saw the soul slip through that narrow passage, out of the head and toward freedom at last. The Madman of the Wilderness.

The soul's essence swirled around Uthe, a gesture that was blessing and embrace. It would have been lost in the haze of dust left from the fight, except it shimmered. As it hovered between the detached head and Uthe, it formed a tight vortex, the center like a nest. A tiny spark of light emerged from the mouth of the head and dropped into that nest. The light of the Baptist closed over it, a safe cocoon, then both souls were drawn away,

slowly moving upward.

As Keldwyn tilted his head up, he watched them rise, higher, higher. He wanted to keep watching Uthe, but Uthe's head was back down and Kel knew he'd want verification that the most important part of the task was done. As he followed the ascent of the two souls, a different wave of magic hit him. A flash in the smoke and dust gave him the brief impression of wings, a warrior's face and a drawn sword. An angel, now providing heavenly escort. Kel remembered Shahnaz's visit by one and wondered if it was the same being. A celestial being's help would have been advantageous in this fight, but no one told an angel what to do, did they? None except a Force beyond understanding.

It was done. He returned his attention to what was most important to him. The shield that prevented Kel from approaching wasn't giving way, which alarmed him. It meant the demon was not yet dispatched.

Varick, are you there? As he became more insistent, the shielding seemed to be thickening. Uthe's hands, still covered with the thick black oil, gripped the altar. When he wrenched one free, his face crumpled in agony from the effort. Kel could scent burnt flesh even through the shielding. Uthe's flesh. "Varick."

Uthe was beyond hearing him. He groped along the table, and clutched the Spear. The blackness on his hand began to coat it, the shaft pulsing with energy, the black oil catching fire and turning the weapon to flame from shaft to point. Uthe let out an animal noise of pain, but he held onto it, lifted it. He swayed on his knees. His eyes were still vacant, but now the expression was different.

Fear pierced Kel. It was the way he looked when the Ennui came upon him. Now he was not caught in a magical trance. He was drifting, the stress and strain of what he'd done catapulting him into the lost world in his mind.

"Uthe. Varick!"

Kel tried everything he could to breach the shield around him. The demon's laughter grew louder. "We're off to Hell, my lord," he spat from the head, a nightmarish effect since the lips stretched in an unnatural way, grimacing over the words. "Hooray to the victorious warrior. He has done the Lord's Will, and now it is my Will he will serve..."

"No," Kel roared. "My lord. The beauseant has not fallen. It has not fallen. Take him. Now. Your Master commands it."

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