Academy of Secrets: From the Outcast Angels Christian Fantasy & Science Fiction series

by Carney, Michael

  Chrymos decided to leave well enough alone. She let go of the shield and returned her attention to the pathgem, which still glowed faintly. She avoided touching the gem directly but instead brought her arm near so that she could use the red glow to inspect the sought-after treasure more closely.

  It’s attached to a wristband of some sort that the angel is wearing. I can probably unfasten that band and remove it from the body without actually touching the gem.

  That’s exactly what Chrymos did. She was squeamish at first, trying to avoid touching the body at all as she reached around and loosened the band from around the angel’s wrist. As soon as she had worked the wristband free, Chrymos lifted the band out and away from the sarcophagus, gratefully turning her back on the corpse.

  She held the wristband in her hand, careful not to touch the gemstone. So this is the treasure that Della Porta has been searching for all these years—the deadly pathgem that so many people have been sacrificed for. Now what do I do with it?

  Her train of thought was interrupted by a noise that came from outside the tomb. She stuffed the wristband and gem into one of her pockets.

  ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN

  Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 5.12 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610

  Chrymos went to the tomb entrance and peered cautiously out into the main chamber.

  Adric was stirring—the noise that she had heard was him coughing. All the dust from the bones, Chrymos thought as she limped over to her friend as quickly as she could.

  Adric was understandably groggy, but brightened when he saw Chrymos. “C, what are you doing here? Don’t you know how dangerous this place is?”

  Chrymos helped Adric to sit up. “I have so much to tell you,” she said, “I don’t know where to start.”

  “You can start by telling me why you’re here,” said Adric, “although I think I can guess.”

  “The Master sent me—” began Chrymos.

  “—because I hadn’t returned,” said Adric. “Why? What did he think you could do that I couldn’t? No offence,” he added hastily.

  Chrymos was unimpressed. “I was sent because I had the best chance of rescuing you. Who do you think translated the instructions that helped you make it this far?”

  “You did? Zooterkins—that’s amazing, C. I never knew you could do that,” said Adric.

  “Well,” admitted Chrymos, “previously I couldn’t, not until I had some Exousía potion.” She tried not to show Adric how much pain she was feeling as she helped him to stand up. “Now I can understand any language. What about you,” she added, “have your powers come through yet?”

  “Alas, no,” said Adric, as he brushed the dust of his clothing and satisfied himself that he was still in one piece. “But you know what they say, ‘the mills of God grind slowly.’”

  Chrymos nodded. She watched as Adric glanced around at his surroundings, seemingly unfazed by the large mound of bones that for him must have appeared out of nowhere.

  Adric seemed to be staring at everything with some bemusement, not saying a word. Finally, Chrymos simply had to ask. “So what happened to you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Adric. “Obviously I made it into this room, and then—that’s all I remember until I woke up right now.”

  “Did you see any of the skeletons?”

  “Skeletons? No. At least, I don’t think so,” amended Adric. “Did you? What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Chrymos. “What matters is that I found the angel’s tomb.”

  “You have?” Adric shouted. “Curse me for a cumberground, I’ve been no use here at all.” He jabbered excitedly, dancing around Chrymos. “Tell me—what was in it, what did you find?”

  “This,” said Chrymos, removing the wristband from her pocket while taking great care not to touch the glowing gem. “I believe it’s called a pathgem. They say it can be used to travel anywhere, instantly.”

  Adric stared at the gemstone. “How does it work?” he asked. He couldn’t take his eyes off the precious stone.

  “I don’t know,” said Chrymos. “All I know is what it’s supposed to do, not how to do it.”

  Adric reached out and, before Chrymos could warn him, touched the stone with his finger. The gem flared up brightly.

  Adric dropped his hand and jumped back in surprise. “Gadsbud! How does it do that?” The gem had dimmed again once Adric had lost contact.

  “I have no idea,” said Chrymos, lifting up the wristband and staring at the pathgem. “The manuscript writer didn’t know much about it or how it worked, so there are no instructions. We’ll simply have to try to work it out for ourselves.”

  Adric came back in for a closer look. “Can I hold it?”

  Chrymos wasn’t comfortable with that idea but she didn’t know quite how to refuse her old friend.

  ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT

  Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 5.15 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610

  The four members of the LOA team stranded outside the Academy walls didn’t know what they should do. The musket-fire of a few minutes earlier had been followed by the sounds of crashing bodies and then by the relentless cackling of hundreds of crows as they circled around and around the Academy. And the first rays of sunshine were beginning to touch the top of the Capodimonte hill.

  “Clearly there won’t be any flying in or out of that wall, not with all those crows around,” said Martin. “Anybody have any suggestions?”

  “They were obviously expecting us,” said Mircea, “I will say it, if no-one else does—it must be a trap.”

  “So do we go in there and try to rescue any of our team who survived,” asked Elias, “or do we hang back and wait for Ravid?”

  “We know these people, their leaders,” said the other Wallachian newcomer, Doamna, in his rudimentary English. “They make no prisoners. We have small choice—we must rescue, now, before too late.”

  “Even if we agree with you, Doamna, how do we get inside now that the wall is off-limits?” asked Elias.

  “How about a direct, front-on approach,” said Martin unexpectedly, “through the main gate?”

  “You are joking,” said Mircea.

  “No, really,” said Martin. “I can spread darkness so that they don’t see us coming until too late. Elias, you can talk us inside.”

  “And I make stone. Might work,” said Doamna. “Of course, if fails, we—” He lacked the vocabulary but everyone understood the risk.

  “Then let’s do it,” said Martin.

  ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE

  Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 5.20 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610

  Before Chrymos could respond to Adric’s request to hold the pathgem, they both heard what sounded like singing coming from the main chamber outside. They looked at each other in disbelief.

  Adric was first to respond. “I’ll go, C, you don’t look like you’re in too good a shape.” Ah, so he has noticed, thought Chrymos, that’s nice. She felt unexpectedly flattered.

  Adric crept quietly to the entrance of the tomb and then slipped out into the main chamber beyond. Chrymos waited nervously. It can’t be those gas-creatures again, can it? They couldn’t even talk, let alone sing. And I’m sure all the skeletons are gone.

  Adric was only gone a couple of minutes. He returned, ashen-faced. “It’s a creature out of a nightmare. Two and a half vara tall, at least, black armor everywhere, carrying a sword and an axe. It must be some sort of demon, like the ones that the Academy warned us about.”

  Chrymos nodded in horror, her own dream-fueled memory even more vivid.

  “He’s here,” whispered Adric. He gulped. “Coming straight for us. He was singing out ‘I can see you!’ I’ll bet he’s after that.” Adric pointed at the pathgem.

  Chrymos froze. “He mustn’t get it, he mustn’t. We need to hide.” She looked around frantically.

  “Where do you hide from a creature like that?” Adr
ic was also looking around but he seemed almost resigned to his fate.

  Chrymos glanced around the chamber, and suddenly smiled. “I don’t think he can enter the angel’s tomb,” she said, beckoning to Adric to come with her, “that’s why the pathgem is still here.”

  She dragged Adric over to the tomb. “This is what we’ve been searching for. I think it’s protected from creatures like him.”

  Adric seemed oddly reluctant to enter. “Are you sure? If the protection you’re talking about doesn’t work, we’ll be trapped in there—easy prey.”

  “Sure,” said Chrymos, professing a certainty that she didn’t actually feel. “Come with me, you’ll see.”

  Chrymos pulled Adric into the entrance to the tomb. Again, she felt that she was being scrutinized from head to toe. Again, she passed the test.

  But Adric—he remained frozen in place. Then, suddenly, the tomb appeared to spit him out. Adric was sent flying, arms frantically waving in an attempt to stop his flight. He came to a sudden stop crumpled against the wall of the burial chamber.

  ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY

  Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 5.24 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610

  As fast as she could, Chrymos limped over to Adric. By the time she reached him, Adric had picked himself up and was checking for injuries. “I guess the angel doesn’t like Napoletanos,” he said ruefully, satisfied that merely his pride was battered.

  “I don’t understand,” said Chrymos, still shocked at the turn of events. “Why could I get inside but not you?”

  “Never mind,” said Adric. “We have a real live demon to worry about—and he’ll be coming through that entrance in a couple of minutes. We don’t have many options left.”

  He turned to Chrymos again, gesturing at the pathgem. “What about that gem? You said it could be used to take us anywhere. Can we try to make it work to get us out of here?”

  Adric held up his hand to forestall Chrymos’ objections. “I know what you said—you don’t know how it works. But perhaps I can get it going. Why don’t you hand it over—”

  Chrymos was instantly on alert. That’s the second time you’ve asked for the gem. What’s going on, Adric? Even so, despite her concerns she replied mildly. “How about we both hold it?”

  Adric nodded in agreement—but Chrymos seemed to sense some reluctance on his part. I must be imagining it.

  She slipped the band onto her wrist and then held it up so that Adric could touch the gemstone. Then everything seemed to happen at once.

  A dark, demonic figure, exactly like the creature in Chrymos’ nightmares, appeared at the entranceway. It was clad in black armor and armed with a deadly curved sword. The demon’s first words, as soon as it saw Chrymos, made no sense to her at all. “Oh, it’s you. Nekhbet’s pet.”

  Chrymos shuddered despite herself. I don’t know that name and yet it sends shivers through my whole body.

  The demon wasn’t finished speaking. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t be aware that people were searching for the pathgem? That I wouldn’t notice that the pathgem was activated? My name is Ezequeel and the pathgem is mine!”

  The demon—Ezequeel—started towards her. At exactly that same moment, Adric reached over and touched the pathgem. As the gem burst into light, Adric spoke a charm that he should not have known, in a language that he should not have been able to speak. Chrymos instantly translated his words in her mind. “”

  Chrymos and Adric vanished.

  ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE

  Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 5.25 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610

  The idea of a frontal attack had seemed like a good idea a few minutes ago, but as the LOA team started to put the plan into practice, Martin began to have second thoughts. Those are armed soldiers at the gate, he told himself, heavily armed soldiers, with swords and knives and guns and who knows what else. What am I doing?

  Martin led the way because he was the only one able to darken the rapidly-lightening sky around the Academy entrance. He was still limping a little after the battle in Paris, but his leg was mostly healed.

  He risked a glance back towards his LOA teammates. The new fellow, the man from Wallachia with his horrible grasp of English, gave him an inane grin. Thanks, Doamna, that’s just the encouragement I needed to get me through this next patch.

  Once he was within about fifty feet of the main gate, Martin began to concentrate, picturing the wall, gate, and roadway getting gradually darker. As usual, reality obliged, reversing the recent effects of dawn on a highly-localized basis. Martin imagined the designated area getting blacker and blacker, and indeed that’s what happened. As the darkness began to take hold, Martin could hear a few shouts and instructions called out by those affected.

  Martin waved the others forward to join him as he came close to the center of the darkness, where the main gate was located.

  “Okay, Elias,” he whispered as the younger man came forward, “time to do your work.”

  Elias launched into a typical warm, caring speech, in English, French and hastily-learnt Napoletano, intended to convince the guards to come out of the darkness with their weapons left behind.

  Unfortunately, that part of the plan didn’t quite work. All that emerged from the darkness was a volley of musket balls.

  ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-TWO

  Outside The Academy of Secrets, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 5.26 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610

  The musket balls weren’t aimed anywhere in particular and no-one in the LOA team was hit. They were encouraged to move out of range, however.

  The reason for the plan’s failure suddenly became apparent, at least to Martin, who still stood close to the main gate. From there, he could hear the soldiers talking amongst themselves—and he realized that whatever was being said was in a language he couldn’t understand. It’s not English, French or Napoletano. No wonder they weren’t affected by Elias, they didn’t understand what he was saying.

  Martin felt highly exposed. He needed to be near the gate to maintain the cover of darkness, but if any of the soldiers thought to open the gate and take a handful of paces out from their current position, they would easily spot him. Now what do I do?

  He was seriously considering making a run for safety—which would have meant allowing the darkness to dissipate—when he heard an excited buzz of voices coming from the gate area. Gales of laughter and much chatter followed. Then, one by one, the voices fell silent.

  Before Martin could consider his next move, a head popped out through the darkness.

  “You can get rid of the blackness now Martin, thanks,” said Zophiel, “it’s done the job quite nicely.”

  Delighted to see Zophiel, Martin gratefully released the darkness. As daylight returned, he could see the main gates open, the guards roped together and tied to the gate pillars. Martin’s missing teammates were standing around smiling.

  “What happened here?” Martin asked Zophiel.

  “A combination of you and Shamar and Sean,” said Zophiel. As Ravid may have told you, Shamar has the ability to make people think that he’s a good friend of theirs. Under the cover of your darkness, he was able to get close to the guards by convincing them that he was their best mate. Then Sean paralyzed them one by one, until we could tie them up. Simple.”

  Sure, thought Martin as he and the rest of the LOA team followed Zophiel through the gate and onto the Della Porta estate. What could possibly have gone wrong?

  Then the thought passed when Martin was forced to throw himself to the ground trying to avoid a furiously-whirling tornado.

  ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE

  Nowhen

  Chrymos found herself in a glorious clearing surrounded by giant trees. She immediately felt blessed relief from all her aches and pains. The limp was gone. Her exhaustion disappeared and her head cleared. The healing powers of Nowhen instantly nullified even the deadly effects of the snake venom.

  But No
when’s healing powers reached beyond the merely physical. Chrymos’ mind was healed as well. The heavenly environment instantly restored the memories that had been grafted over by demonic enchantments, false imaginings and the lies told by Carracci and others in the Academy. Chrymos finally knew who and what she was. I’m an Earth-born Outcast Angel.

  With that realization came an overwhelming flood of memories, both wonderful and horrific.

  # # #

  Chrymos was but seven Earth years old and her mother—her glorious, beautiful, Outcast Angel mother, Ayil—was singing her to sleep. Chrymos felt so loved, so happy, so secure.

  # # #

  Chrymos was nine and the mighty Outcast Angel Shamar—her strong, handsome father—was teaching her to fly, swooping in and out of the clouds far above their home, the island they called Sanctuary but which humans called Atlantis. Chrymos felt that she could achieve whatever she wanted.

  # # #

  Chrymos was thirteen when she finally realized that, even though she was an angel, she would never receive any powers because her parents had rebelled from Heaven. She raged, shouted, and abused her parents dreadfully. She cried herself to sleep for weeks.

  # # #

  Chrymos was fifteen when her father explained why the Outcast Angels had opposed the Darke Warriors so bitterly and for so long. “If Lucifer ever takes control of Heaven, our mortal bodies will be destroyed and our spirits will be tormented for eternity,” Shamar explained. “Banishment may seem like a terrible punishment but Lucifer’s alternative is far, far worse.”

  # # #

  Chrymos was eighteen when she was presented to the Elders. “Now that you are old enough,” said the Outcast Angels’ leader, Eyphah, “you can be trusted with the knowledge of the location of our next Sanctuary. Jesse tells us that Atlantis will not last forever,” he added, when Chrymos reacted with surprise at the news, “and it is essential that a few of us know where to go next afterAtlantis falls. Yours is one of just five families entrusted with this vital secret. It is a great privilege and a powerful obligation. You are finally old enough to be entrusted with this information and we Elders have judged you worthy of our trust.” Chrymos glowed with pride for days afterwards.