The Infinity Engines Books 1-3

by Andrew Hastie

  And Dalton saw how he could become one.

  He rose from the dark liquid, the talisman still glowing on his hand, his body covered in dark, slick oil.

  The Nihil stood around his tank, their bodies freed of the mortal shells reverting into strange and hideous forms that were the stuff of nightmares.

  ‘I am Nihil,’ Dalton declared, his body beginning to undergo the transformation.

  77

  Fifth door

  Josh hefted the crusader sword from one hand to the other, feeling the weight of it pull on the muscles of his forearms. It was a finely-balanced weapon, one that could break a bone or pierce armour plate. He could feel the history of it; this was a Knight’s blade, one that had drawn blood at the capture of Edessa and the Siege of Damascus.

  ‘Do you actually know how to use it?’ Caitlin asked, strapping a dagger onto the inside of her thigh.

  ‘Aye M’Lady,’ he said, swinging the blade through an impressive series of arcs. ‘Nostradamus insisted I went through the intuit training for the fifth.’

  ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘Except women don’t get to fight,’ she added grumpily, smoothing down the long grey habit. ‘Don’t see how being a nun is going to help.’

  Josh smiled at her. ‘I don’t know, looks kind of sexy.’

  She pouted. ‘Really, we’re about to go back into the crusades, one of the most brutal periods in recent history, and that’s all you can think about?’

  He sheathed the sword in its scabbard and pulled her close.

  ‘So, what were the other options?’

  ‘You know full well. Whore or serving wench, which were virtually the same thing.’

  Josh put his hand behind her neck and kissed her gently on the mouth.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispered as his lips moved to her ear, making her shudder.

  ‘I’ve been right here,’ she purred.

  ‘You’ve had your nose stuck in a book.’

  She pushed him away. ‘I need to understand what’s going on. Don’t you see how important this is?’

  Josh was going to tell her about what he’d learned from the founder, but something stopped him. ‘Totally, but it’s like you shut yourself away when you do this. I feel like a spare wheel.’

  Caitlin bit her bottom lip and played with her necklace. ‘You hate books. I just assumed you wouldn’t want to spend all your time in the library.’

  Josh pulled her close once more. ‘I don’t, but you’re not the only one with ideas about how this is going to play out. I learned something about the founder too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Marcus might be right about him. He’s not what he seems.’

  Nostradamus knocked at the door. ‘When you two are quite finished.’

  The fifth level of the Citadel was modelled in the style of a Norman castle. Men and women in medieval robes strode along the stone-carved cloisters like servants on urgent errands.

  ‘I have to say I was quite surprised by your request,’ said Nostradamus, leading Josh, Caitlin and Lyra through the flag-stoned corridors. ‘One of our reconnaissance teams had reported increased activity around the Templar base, but nothing that would warrant an intervention.’

  Caitlin glanced guiltily at Josh. ‘Let’s just call it a hunch.’

  Nostradamus looked puzzled. ‘A hunch? I would never have believed a Scriptorian would ever use such a word.’

  ‘Probably spent too much time around me,’ joked Josh.

  ‘Hmm, well I know better than to doubt the intuition of the Paradox.’ Nostradamus stopped at a door marked ‘11.120’. Josh counted at least five other similar portals, all marked with the Templar cross.

  ‘Just before the second crusade,’ noted Lyra, who’d chosen to dress like a serving girl.

  They were joined by three heavily armed ‘protectors’, all of whom looked very capable of defending themselves. Nostradamus had insisted they take bodyguards, reminding them that they’d lost four teams in this period and he wouldn’t be responsible for losing another.

  The men had hard, scarred faces and massively muscled arms under their chain mail, like steroid-enhanced gym bunnies, and they made Josh feel slightly inadequate standing next to them. He was nearly six-feet tall, and they all looked down on him.

  ‘Remember you’re going into a war zone,’ warned the curator, like an over-protective parent. ‘The city of Jerusalem may be under Christian control, but the surrounding area — “Outremer” as they call it — is a lawless place where many pilgrims have been slaughtered on their way to the holy city.’

  ‘What scenario is the local team currently working on?’

  Nostradamus took out his almanac, which was very different from the standard issue they were used to. The book had a dial with twelve symbols on the cover, and he turned to the fifth before he opened it.

  ‘Their last report was filed two days ago. Apparently, the Templars have discovered a tomb in the ruins of Solomon’s temple — there’s a seventy-four percent probability that it contains treasure and the team were going to investigate.’

  ‘Sure it’s not the Grail?’ whispered Josh to Caitlin.

  Caitlin stuck out her tongue.

  ‘Wait!’ called a voice from down the corridor.

  Nostradamus rolled his eyes. ‘Brother Geoffroy, where the devil have you been?’

  Geoffroy was a short, round man with a broad face and rosy cheeks. He was dressed like a Cistercian monk, his hair cut in a tonsure, and he was carrying a large pack on his back that refused to stay in one place as he ran.

  ‘I had to collect a few herbs,’ he said, bending over double and panting.

  ‘May I introduce your medic, Geoffroy Fitzstephen. He has many fine qualities, timekeeping unfortunately is not one of them.’

  ‘Ironic, really, considering,’ the monk wheezed, waving his hand. ‘Please don’t let me delay you any further.’

  Nostradamus nodded, and one of the bodyguards opened the door.

  The view of the desert city beyond took their breath away, as did the wave of heat that washed over their faces.

  Their guards were through the door without another word.

  ‘Quickly!’ urged Nostradamus, ‘before the portal is detected.’

  [Jerusalem. Date: 11.120]

  The narrow streets of the old city smelled of intoxicating spices, herbs and sun-baked ground all underlined with a faint odour of shit and body odour. The proximity of so many unwashed people assaulted every one of Josh’s senses as he marched through them, reminding him of the harsh reality of a past with no real sanitation or personal hygiene. The roads were full of pilgrims, wealthy merchants and their entourages of mercenaries and servants, all clothed in luxurious silks, parading past the few remaining stalls of the market traders who’d chosen to remain.

  Massive walls towered over them, built to protect the holiest of cities, its watchtowers draped with the flags of the current occupying forces of Baldwin II, King of Jerusalem.

  They followed the general flow of traffic as it wove through the streets towards the centre of the city and Temple Mount. Even in the shadow of the wall, the heat of the midday sun was intense. Josh was wearing three layers of armour: padded chausses, a long mail shirt and a surcoat, all of which made him appreciate how strong the knights would have to be to fight in these conditions. His throat was parched after ten minutes of walking, and the waterskin he carried was half empty by the time they reached the entrance to the Temple.

  There was a steady stream of visitors flowing through the open gates. The Templar guards were vigilant, but stood back and let the westerners enter without question. They were fierce-looking men, each holding a spear and a shield with the red cross emblazoned on it. They saluted Josh as he passed as if he were a brother knight.

  ‘Where are the rest of the Templars?’ Caitlin asked Geoffroy in Latin as they walked into the inner courtyard.

  ‘In a wing of the Royal Palace,’ he said, nodding towards the mosque-like building th
at stood across the square from them. Caitlin could see it was well guarded. ‘Hugues de Payens is their commanding officer. He persuaded the Patriarch and King Baldwin to let them use the temple ruins.’

  The three bodyguards spread out around them as they walked across the square, their hands never leaving the pommels of their swords as if they expected trouble even within the safety of the compound. Josh, Caitlin and Lyra followed Geoffroy across to the temple entrance where the medic produced a scroll with a wax seal of two knights riding on one horse — the symbol of the Templar order.

  While the guards opened and read the scroll, Lyra turned to Caitlin and whispered something in her ear. Caitlin looked concerned and whispered something back.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Josh.

  ‘Something’s not right,’ whispered Caitlin. ‘She says this place is filled with evil spirits.’

  The guards didn’t seem convinced by the document and were asking Geoffroy questions in French. They kept looking over at him and their protection team as if not convinced that they were other members of their order. Geoffroy stood his ground and mentioned something about being sent by Bernard of Clairvaux, then took out a hefty purse of coins, which seemed to have the desired effect on their suspicions.

  Jacques De Molay, grandmaster of the Templar order, sat opposite them on an ornate chair that looked more like a throne. Geoffroy had explained that he was the Senior Augur coordinating the joint operation between the fifth and sixth, and he seemed very annoyed at being pulled out of his own mission two hundred years ahead of their current location. Sitting on either side of him like chastised schoolboys were André de Montbard and Godfrey de Saint-Omer, two Augurs of the fifth.

  ‘Nostradamus knows better than to interfere in an active mission,’ he said gruffly. ‘Especially one as complicated as this.’

  ‘The fifth has discovered something unusual,’ said Geoffroy. ‘We’ve been sent to investigate.’

  ‘Solomon’s treasure?’ De Molay sneered, looking suspiciously at Josh and Caitlin. ‘I wondered how long it would take the Antiquarians to start sniffing around.’

  ‘We’re not Antiquarians,’ snapped Caitlin.

  De Molay raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not Augurs either.’

  ‘No,’ interrupted Geoffroy, ‘but I am, and I have the authority of the curator himself. You’re to show them every courtesy.’

  ‘And what exactly do you require?’

  ‘Access to the site,’ replied Caitlin.

  ‘To what end?’

  ‘To assess the impact on the fifth Eschaton crisis — why else?’ said Geoffroy.

  ‘My men tell me that they’re nothing but old stone jars. I fail to see how that constitutes an intervention?’

  ‘Did you find any treasure?’ asked Josh.

  De Molay looked at Montbard. ‘The fifth’s current mission objective is to trace long-lost artefacts. The Templar’s excavation of the tomb is purely for archaeological research.’

  ‘Not just an army of warrior monks bent on slaughtering Muslims then?’ scoffed Lyra.

  ‘That is why the sixth are here, to study the roots of conflict in this area, but before you start judging us, you should know that Saladin is also a member of the sixth too.’

  Lyra looked abashed.

  ‘There is no easy way to manipulate the violence of this era. Men died in great numbers and calculating a peaceful outcome would require a legion of Copernicans. Our primary objective is to study the impact on the future.’

  Josh thought of all the news stories about the troubles in the Middle East and wondered how much worse it could possibly get.

  ‘In the short term, Guy of Lusignan will lose Jerusalem by 11.187, assuming they’re still defeated at Hattin. Then Saladin can focus on stabilising the region,’ he explained.

  ‘Good luck with that,’ scoffed Josh.

  ‘When are you from?’ asked De Molay.

  ‘The present.’

  ‘Then you know exactly the crisis we’re trying to reduce.’

  ‘Are you not bothered about the treasure?’ Caitlin asked in disbelief.

  De Molay laughed. ‘I have three hundred years of political turmoil to manage. Do you really think I care whether there’s some magical artefact in the tomb?’

  ‘Not magic, but potentially evidence of an out-of-place object — the fifth may have stumbled upon something very rare. While looking for gold, no doubt.’

  Montbard and Saint-Omer avoided her gaze, confirming what she already suspected.

  ‘Gold has its uses here,’ the De Molay replied. ‘As for your investigation — you have my consent. Although I will be logging an official complaint with Nostradamus.’ He turned to Geoffroy. ‘You can tell him that we will hold the city for as long as it takes to clear the area. In the meantime,’ he said, standing up, ‘I have to get back to my own era — Philip is about to accuse the Templars of heresy, and we all know how that ends.’

  As they entered the cool shade of the temple, the guards closed the doors behind them with a resounding boom.

  The air was still, and the only sound was the clatter of swords against chain mail as they walked down the dark, sandstone passage. Lyra looked around nervously as they went, staring into the shadows and flinching at the slightest sound.

  ‘Lyra! Pack it in. You’re freaking me out!’ hissed Caitlin.

  Geoffroy overheard her. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Lyra’s seeing ghosts,’ joked Josh.

  The monk chuckled. ‘I’m not surprised, this temple has seen more than its fair share of conflict in the last thousand years. Some parts of it go back to the time of Solomon and King David.’

  ‘Not that,’ said Lyra, shaking her head. ‘Something else.’

  Geoffroy’s eyes narrowed. ‘What kind of something?’

  She waved her hands around in the air. ‘Bad vibrations, like a fly trapped in a spider’s web.’

  Geoffroy took off his crucifix and pulled out a small metal rod from inside it.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Josh as the monk held it out in front of him.

  ‘Divination rod.’

  ‘Are you trying to find water?’ mocked Caitlin.

  ‘No, time eddies. If there’s a temporal fluctuation in here, this will pick it up.’

  They reached the excavation site. Wooden gibbets had been used to lift the stone slabs away with block and tackle, and the underlying rock had been cut away. The edges showed the crude marks of pick axes where the men had hacked their way through to the chamber below.

  Geoffroy crouched over the hole, his divination rod vibrating in his hand.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ he said, staring down into the crypt.

  One of the bodyguards drew his sword and stepped onto the makeshift wooden ladder, while another lit an oil lamp on one of the torches and threw it down into the darkness.

  They watched as the small clay pot smashed on the floor below, igniting the oil as it spread out in a flaming pool across the stone floor.

  Lyra was muttering to herself and wringing her hands.

  ‘What is it?’ Caitlin asked her.

  ‘Something bad,’ was all she would say.

  Josh saw the bodies in the flickering light of the fire, like broken dolls, the Templars lay scattered across the floor of the crypt, still holding their swords. But there was no sign of what killed them.

  The guard descended cautiously and worked his way around the edge of the fire, stopping to examine each of the bodies in turn.

  ‘They’re Augurs,’ he said, ‘and they’re not dead — just concussed.’

  The other two guards went next and confirmed that it was safe before allowing the rest of them down, all except Lyra who refused to go anywhere near the hole.

  Geoffroy took out an assortment of medieval medical supplies from his pack: salves and potion bottles were uncorked and applied to deep wounds and purple bruises.

  ‘Where is your commanding officer?’ Josh heard one of the guards ask
a recovering soldier.

  His reply was weak, but they all heard it.

  ‘Taken.’

  Caitlin was helping Geoffroy, so Josh took one of the unbroken oil lamps and went off to survey the rest of the tomb.

  There was a small collection of clay jars stacked at one end of the room. Each bore the runes of an ancient language written around a sealed lid. It reminded Josh of the jar that the colonel had used on the Strzyga — the one that had contained a Monad.

  ‘What are they?’ asked Josh as Caitlin came over to join him.

  ‘Canopic jars. Egyptian funeral goods, for storing the internal organs, but they should have heads on them: a falcon for the intestines, baboon for the lungs, a jackal for the stomach — these are weird — I don’t recognise the glyphs either.’

  Josh looked around the chamber. ‘And there’s no mummy.’

  ‘This wasn’t a tomb. I think it was something else.’ She pointed to the walls, which were covered with hieroglyphic inscriptions carved into the sandstone.

  The symbols meant nothing to Josh, although he thought they looked a lot like the ones in the temple Dalton had tried to sacrifice them in.

  Caitlin stood back and ran her fingers through her hair.

  ‘These are more like containment jars, like the ones the Xenos use for trapping monads, but the symbols could be Akkadian or Babylonian.’

  She went over to one of the jars that was laying on its side in the middle of the floor.

  ‘I think they opened it and let something out,’ she said, reaching inside the jar and carefully pulling out a copper tube.

  ‘Copper scroll?’ asked Josh.

  Caitlin carefully unrolled the thin foil. It was a delicate leaf of beaten copper on which someone had inscribed rows of symbols.

  ‘This is more like Mishnaic Hebrew,’ said Caitlin, a little puzzled. ‘They’re locations.’