Knights Templar - Temple And The Crown Part 35

All three of his acolytes sti?ed gasps to see him, for the dread forces to which he had exposed himself since acquiring the High Priest's Breastplate-and especially in the past twenty-four hours, sequestered in preparation-clearly had taken their toll. Nogaret was wan and sunken of cheek and his bloodshot eyes burned with a feverish intensity that reminded Valentin of the eyes of the skulls that ringed the room. The master's beringed hands looked almost skeletal, the nails as yellow as a vulture's talons.

"I am con?dent that tonight's endeavor will meet with success," Nogaret announced in a voice that creaked of the grave. "Tonight, at last, we shall reap the fruit of ?ve years' unremitting study and toil."

He had to pause to cough and clear his throat, one trembling hand resting momentarily on the salver bearing the ring and the other caressing the gemstones of the Breastplate in a gesture that somehow became obscene.

"Without access to the powers of the Lights and Perfections," he continued, "the Breastplate of Aaron has been like an empty vessel. But not for much longer. One ?nal conjunctio is needed to perfect the Ring of Ialdabaeoth as a vas philosophorum. With this ring binding the dual power of the Urim and Thummin, the puissance of the High Priest's Breastplate will at last be ours to command!"

Baudoin clasped his hands together, bidding the l.u.s.t straining beneath his will to be contained yet a while longer. Like all of them, he had made his pact with the demon of the ring, paid its price, been the recipient of its favors. The ring itself, created to capture and hold one minor demon, had previously been a useful but limited tool. Now, however, Nogaret and his a.s.sociates of the Decuria had used their alchemical arts to expand the ring's capacity, transforming it into a crucible of destruction, capable of sustaining and channeling the ?res of h.e.l.l itself. All that remained was to tap into the source.

"Yours was the inspiration, Magister," Valentin declared unctuously. "We await the ful?llment of your vision."

Nogaret acknowledged the tribute with a nod. Beckoning his a.s.sociates to join him at the altar, he lifted the ring by its chain and lowered it carefully into the alembic. Warm boar's blood curdled round it, and the embers beneath it ?ared, enveloping the vessel and the ring in a murky amber corona as Nogaret opened his hands in a gesture of invitation.

"Great Lucifer, Patron of Slayers, be present in our midst!" he whispered. "Glorify yourself through this act of desecration. Into your hands do we render this ring of Power, together with the vessels of your Enemy. By the mysteries of blood and ?re, make them both your own!"

He sketched a symbol of power in the air over the mouth of the alembic. With a susurrant hiss, the ring-or the demon in the ring-began to drink of the boar's blood. As the ?uid steadily drained away, leaving the ring cleanly exposed, the ruby depths of the stone began to glow with deep-seated crimson ?re.

The ?re intensi?ed, setting the alembic aglow and bathing the room and its occupants in scarlet radiance.

Nogaret's pale eyes glittered hungrily, and a rapturous sigh escaped his thin lips.

"Yesss," he crooned softly. "Soon, soon we shall be like the Nephilim of old, shaping the world to suit our pleasure."

Chapter Thirty-five.

April, 1313 OUTSIDE THE TOWER, SILENT AS GHOSTS, THE TEMPLARS in?ltrated the ruins to the east of the castle gateway. The main party, under Christoph's command, faded into the shadows and drew their weapons, ready to rush the gate when the time came. Arnault, Torquil, and Breville edged closer still, dirks and daggers taken quietly in hand. From this vantage point, they could hear the conversation of the guards. "I tell you, something big is happening tonight," the sergeant said to his two companions, casting a nervous glance back through the gate.

"How do you know?" asked the taller of the pair.

"Didn't you hear the row in the pig run this morning? That was Claude and Henri, butchering the black boar."

"What, that brute they've been feeding up on blood meal and gibbet meat?"

"The same," the sergeant con?rmed. "And it all had to be done a certain way-master's orders. Fairly reeks of sorcery, don't it? It wouldn't surprise me if the master and those three lordly friends of his were planning to conjure up the Devil."

Arnault fancied he could feel a chill run up his spine. Far from doubting the sergeant's lurid speculations, he feared they might be perilously close to the truth.

The nudge of Torquil's elbow in his ribs made him glance in that direction. The younger man's tight-lipped expression suggested that he was thinking much the same thing. Had Nogaret and his minions at last found some way to work their will on the High Priest's Breastplate, either to profane it or destroy it? If so, there was not a moment to lose.

Clapping a hand on Breville's shoulder, he gave him a nod and a jut of his chin. Breville nodded in return, eyed the direction of the guards' voices again, then dropped to a crouch and made a dash for the rear of the mule paddock. Slipping between the railings, he edged his way around to the gate and lifted the loop of rope that served as a makes.h.i.+ft gate latch, then withdrew to a patch of shadow as the gate swung slightly ajar.

The mules paid no heed. Arnault and Torquil exchanged resigned glances, then delved into their pouches for the supply of pebbles they had gathered earlier. Chucking a few into the midst of the animals produced the desired result, causing several mules and horses to startle, jostling their companions. One of them b.u.mped against the gate. When it drifted open, one mule and then another began tentatively nosing their way out of the enclosure.

Half a dozen beasts had cleared the gate before the sentries noticed. With exasperated oaths, the men laid down their spears and ran to recapture the straying animals-who only scattered the more readily, spooked by the commotion.

Crouched low behind a ruined wall, where one of the mules was nosing at a patch of greenery, Arnault waited until one of the men was reaching for the animal's halter before silencing him with a lightning pounce and dragging him out of sight.

Working fast, he stripped off the man's mantle and helmet, then bound his hands and feet and gagged him securely. By the time he ?nished, Torquil and Breville had likewise claimed their victims. Breville's man was semiconscious, stirring, but rather than hitting him again, Breville clamped a hand across his mouth and set his dirk to the man's throat, one knee bearing down on his chest, while Arnault bound his hands and Torquil slung on one of the appropriated mantles. Nogaret's guards wore expensive livery.

"What's the watchword?" Breville demanded of their captive. "Tell me, and I may refrain from killing you."

Struggling under the hand clamped across his mouth, the man shook his head, eyes going wild as Breville s.h.i.+fted the dirk under the skirt of the man's chain mail, cold steel ?at against the man's belly.

"Don't think for an instant that I'm bluf?ng," Breville said coldly. "Tell me, or I'll gut you like a ?sh and leave you to die with your entrails spread out on your lap!" He applied suf?cient pressure with the point of his blade to puncture s.h.i.+rt and skin, giving a twist to make sure the man felt it, smothering the sob that rose in his victim's throat.

"The word?" he urged ?ercely.

The man cringed from the blade, eyes screwed shut as he braced himself for the fatal thrust, but instead Breville leaned closer to his ear.

"I'll ask only once more," he whispered, cautiously easing his hand from the man's mouth. "Tell me-and I'll let you live. It's more than he would offer."

"N-no-please! G-gallows bait," came the strangled, anguished sob. "It's 'gallows bait'-I swear! Oh, G.o.d, he'll feed me to the demons!"

Hearing the ring of truth, Breville was satis?ed. Withdrawing his blade, he dealt the man a stunning blow to the temple and set about applying a gag. A few seconds later, wearing guards' mantles, he and Arnault moved out into the open among the milling mules and began waving their arms. Torquil hung back, lest his accent betray them.

"We could use some help out here!" Arnault called in a gruff voice. "The b.l.o.o.d.y mules have got loose."

He kept a mule between him and the gate as a watch port in the door snapped open, revealing a suspicious eye.

"It's about time!" Breville snapped. "Will you lot get off your spotty backsides and give us a hand? You'll make us all gallows bait!"

His invocation of the watchword had the desired effect. There came the heavy clang of a large bolt being drawn, after which the port swung inward to let three more men-at-arms come sauntering out.

"You simpletons!" the leader sneered. "Can't you even catch a-"

An arrow ?red from the nearby rocks took him cleanly in the throat before he could ?nish. Even as his companions recoiled and groped for their swords, looking around wildly, the lurking Templar force exploded from cover and charged the open door.

The port crashed inward. Surging across the threshold, the Templars in the van came face-to-face with the rest of the castle's gate watch. A sharp ?urry of swordplay drove the defenders back into the tunnel leading from the rear of the gatehouse.

"After them!" Breville shouted. "There'll be another gate between here and the main keep!"

Torquil led the pursuit through the bowels of the hill, the others close on his heels. The predicted guard port at the upper end of the tunnel gave access to a warren of storerooms, where ?eeing guards were frantically trying to close a door, but the Templars were on them before they could secure it. Daunted by the a.s.sault, the defenders turned tail and ran, shouting for reinforcements as they ?ed.

The alarm spread through the lower levels as the Templars pushed on through the cellars and burst into the kitchens. Cooks and scullions ?ed before them as, pressing on, the Templars emerged into a courtyard on the east side of the castle compound-just in time to see defending guardsmen disappearing into the castle's south wing. Glancing in that direction, his hand on the Shard of the Law in its pouch next to his heart, Arnault was not surprised to catch an impression of heavy shadow shrouding the tower that anch.o.r.ed that range.

"He's in the tower, and he's working right now!" Arnault cried, already breaking into a run in that direction. "Please G.o.d we're not already too late to stop it."

Even as he spoke, a shout rang out and a stream of men-at-arms came pouring out of the barracks on the north side of the court, torchlight splas.h.i.+ng off a thicket of naked swords. Forming ranks, the Templars braced themselves to meet the attack.

Meanwhile, in the dark sanct.i.ty of the south tower, Nogaret had removed the High Priest's Breastplate and set it before the alembic on the altar.

"All hail to mighty Lucifer, Prince of Darkness!" he declared. "In his name do I claim this artifact of power as a trophy of war! Lest mine enemies seek to ransom it, I now cast out the source of its former virtues."

He bent to remove the lifeless stones of the Urim and Thummin from their pockets at the back of the Breastplate. As he did so, there came a sudden outburst of noise from outside.

Baudoin started up with a curse. Peret dashed for the nearest window and yanked the drapery aside.

"So much for precautions of secrecy!" he barked over his shoulder at Nogaret. "Someone's breached our defenses."

"That's impossible!" Nogaret snapped.

He rushed to the window to see for himself. Confused shouts and the clatter of weaponry rang out from below. All at once, a ?erce cry rose above the din.

"To arms, brothers! Non n.o.bis, Domine! Non n.o.bis, sed Nomini Tuo da gloriam!"

Nogaret reeled back, his face contorted with disbelief and hate.

"Templars!"

"Templars?" Valentin echoed blankly. "But I thought-"

"That they were all imprisoned or dead?" Peret snarled. "Think again!"

"Well, they couldn't have forced a way in here by mere strength of arms," Baudoin retorted. "They must have some relic of power in reserve. We must stop them before they penetrate any farther!"

"Just what would you suggest?" Valentin said disdainfully.

"The ring, of course!" came Baudoin's reply.

The Ring of Ialdabaeoth, suspended in the alembic, was glowing like a mote of ?re at the heart of a volcano, power pulsing from it in palpable waves.

"Stop!" Nogaret thundered, as Baudoin took a step toward the altar.

Baudoin rounded on him, face suffused with anger. "Why do you even hesitate?"

"Fools! We need all the ring's energy to quicken the Breastplate!" Nogaret spat back at him. "Do you imagine that I have no other weapons to hand?"

He darted back to the altar and removed from a hidden compartment at its base a small, round box like a pyx, made from carved bone. His hands trembled as he twisted off the lid to reveal a dusky gray powder like volcanic ash.

"What is this?" Peret murmured.

"Watch, and learn," Nogaret replied.

Muttering a series of cantrips under his breath, he circled the altar widders.h.i.+ns to cast a pinch of dust over each of the four Cathar skulls watching the room's four quarters.

"Awake and arise, Perfecti!" he commanded, when the circle was complete. "Awake and arise! An ancient enemy is without! Smite them where they stand, and take your vengeance!"

A thin, distant-sounding wail quickly overlaid the din of ?ghting from outside, and a vaporous cloud began to manifest inside each of the four skulls, dancing with motes of scarlet and blue deep within the eye sockets. Then all at once the vapors spewed forth from between the grinning jaws and surged upward, taking on the shadowy semblance of human forms, hollow-eyed and gaunt, trailing ragged grave clothes.

"Hear me and obey!" Nogaret ordered, stabbing a hand in their direction. "Templars have breached the outer baillie! I command you to summon the bonhommes to defend the citadel!"

Shreds of black silk ?ew in tatters from the windows as the Cathar wraiths swooped out into the night.

At once Nogaret rounded on his subordinates, motioning them back to their places with a sweep of his arm.

"We must resume work! Compose yourselves!"

Out in the courtyard, Templars and defenders alike were buffeted by a blast of freezing wind as four spectral shapes plummeted from above and fell upon the living with eldritch shrieks. One of them swooped very near Torquil and laid hands on one of the Templar attackers, eliciting a heart-chilling cry of terror and agony as the man crumpled. As the specter wheeled skyward to swoop again, its icy shoulder struck Torquil a glancing blow that hurled him to the ground. The glimpse he got of its lambent eyes left him all but paralyzed for several pounding heartbeats before he could even dare to lift his head.

The air rang with the shrieks of the specters. Nearby, Arnault, too, was cowering under a raised arm, glancing about wildly for some respite from the attack. The crack of sundering stone split the air, cacophonous counterpoint to the specters' cries. In the next instant, the cobbled paving of the courtyard was ruptured by a zigzag pattern of glowing, branching seams that seemed to open into h.e.l.l.

Men began to scream as the seams gaped wider and more shadow-forms streamed from the gaps, surging upward in the guise of ghostly reivers armed with scythes. Glowing eyes ?ashed wild in the darkness as the shadows ma.s.sed and attacked indiscriminately, bright blades ?as.h.i.+ng. Spectral ?ngers clutched at living ?esh to leave dead-white marks that burned like frostbite. Bellows of primal terror erupted from the ranks of Nogaret's men as, in utter panic, they ?ung down their arms and bolted for the gates, trampling one another in their struggle to escape, leaving the Templars to stand alone against a host of undead enemies.

And stand they did, as the shadows swooped and dived around them like gorcrows, starting to take their toll of men. The Templars fought with all the ferocity that had made them famous throughout Christendom, but their blades whispered harmlessly through forms insubstantial as mist-until all at once Breville materialized beside Torquil, his blade connecting with a ?ash that let smoke leak from one of the ?eeing specters like blood under water.

"Quick! Wet your blade!" he ordered, thrusting a leather ?ask into Torquil's hand.

"But, what-"

"It's holy water. Use it sparingly and pa.s.s it on!"

Ducking to avoid another wraith, Torquil sloshed water on his blade and tossed the ?ask to the next man.

His next sword slash connected with a showering of sparks, causing two wraiths to dissipate like smoke, but half a dozen more surged in to take their place.

Except around Arnault, who suddenly realized that he was the only one not under attack by the wraiths, despite the fact that his sword had not yet been anointed with holy water. In that instant, it dawned on him that he had an even more potent defense at hand.

"Breville, stay and hold the rear guard," Arnault cried, his free hand pressing the Shard to his breast.

"Christoph and Torquil, come with me!"

The three of them made a break for the south tower. Wraiths swooped and harried them from all sides, but never close enough to do any harm-proof that the Shard had power to protect. Running, stumbling, the three men gained the shelter of the archway overhanging the tower's guard port; but the door itself was barred fast from the inside.

Torquil rammed his shoulder against the panel, but shook his head when it did not budge. But Arnault had already sheathed his sword and was reaching into the front of his tunic, drawing forth the fragment of G.o.d's Holy Law.

"O Word of G.o.d, be thou s.h.i.+eld and defender in the midst of our enemies," he prayed, trembling at his own presumption.

The Shard was glowing as he took it out, a pure, cool sapphire that bathed his face in a holy light.

Folding his hands around it, Arnault contained the light in a narrow beam, which he directed at the center of the door. As he did so, words came unbidden to his lips, dimly recalled from holy writ: "Thus saith the Lord of Hosts: Because ye speak this word, behold, I will make My words in thy mouth ?re, and this people wood, and it shall devour them. And the word is Adonai!"

The timbers ignited with a searing crackle and a burst of deep blue ?ame that ate its way outward with blinding speed. In mere seconds, the port was reduced to ashes, its iron ?ttings turned to slag. Avoiding the smoldering cinders, Christoph and then Arnault and Torquil carefully stepped across the threshold, defenders ?eeing before them, Arnault numbly holding the Shard at his side.

"I had no idea," said Christoph over his shoulder, "that you were such a biblical scholar."

"I'm not," Arnault murmured. "That wasn't me."

A short antechamber gave access to a spiral stairway, where several of the defenders had retreated-likely con?rmation that Nogaret was up there somewhere-but as the three Templars started up the steps, the impending presence of evil a.s.sailed them with the force of a blow. Leading the way, Christoph staggered and nearly fell back on Arnault and Torquil, but when Arnault thrust the Shard aloft, light again blazed from it, this time like a beacon to light their way. As they resumed climbing, words again came to Arnault's lips, weaving ever-stronger protection around the three of them.

"Thy Word shall go before me as a Pillar of Fire by night, and as a Pillar of Cloud shall I follow it by day."

The sense of evil grew more intense as they ascended, an almost-visible miasma, but it ?ed before the light of the Shard. Nonetheless, they were ?nding it more and more dif?cult to breathe. At the third-?oor landing, even Arnault had to stop to catch his breath. Beyond, they could see two of the tower's defenders sprawled dead or unconscious on the stairs.