The Witch Hunter Chronicles 2

by Stuart Daly

  ‘Sodom – the city destroyed by God in the Old Testament?’ Francesca asks.

  ‘In the Book of Genesis, to be precise,’ Lothar interjects, quick to stamp his authority on the subject. ‘The city was destroyed due to the immoral behaviour of its inhabitants. Angels were sent to warn Lot, the nephew of Abraham – and one of the only righteous people in Sodom – that the city was going to be eradicated. Lot and his family fled the city, but they had been warned that they would die if they were to look back. However, Lot’s wife could not resist temptation, and, as she fled the city, she glanced back. She was turned into a pillar of salt.’

  ‘And where do we find Sodom?’ the Witch Bishop asks. ‘I’ve never seen it on any map.’

  Lothar shrugs resignedly. ‘That’s the problem. The city was destroyed by a storm of fire and brimstone. I very much doubt anything remains of the city. And if there are remains, nobody knows where they are. Like so many of the great civilisations of antiquity, it has been lost to the sands of time.’

  Jens scoffs in disdain. ‘I wouldn’t be so quick as to dismiss the possibility that Sodom still exists. Allow me to shed some light on this topic.’

  ‘What?’ Lothar exclaims, his face creased in confusion like a wrung-out rag. He sniggers and shakes his head, sceptical of anything that Jens has to say. ‘You can’t shed light on what’s been buried for thousands of years. Sodom does not exist anymore. If it did, it would have been discovered long before now.’ He folds his arms across his chest, signifying the discussion closed. ‘As I said, it has been lost to the sands of time – just like Atlantis, the other civilisation you have wasted your life searching for.’

  Jens clears his throat. ‘That’s not exactly true, and I would expect such ignorance from you,’ he says, provoking an enraged stare from Lothar. He then looks across at his assistant, Hans, and shares a moment of secret reverie. ‘For we know where Sodom is.’

  You’d think Jens had walked on water, given the stunned expressions on our faces.

  ‘You know the location of Sodom?’ Ferdinand von Fürstenberg stammers, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  ‘Of course I do,’ Jens returns curtly, interpreting the question as a rebuke. ‘I could take you there, although it would take us several weeks to travel to the site. But, yes, I know exactly where Sodom is.’

  ‘How do you know you’ve discovered Sodom?’ Lothar asks, quick to discredit the eccentric professor. ‘Sodom was destroyed over several thousand years ago.’

  ‘Not destroyed, hidden,’ Jens corrects, holding up a finger. ‘The quest to discover the city has been an obsession of mine for the past three decades. I have devoted my life to it. I fear I might never have found it if it were not for my assistant, Hans. He’s the man who truly deserves our praise.’

  Hans shifts nervously, obviously uncomfortable with the attention he is receiving. ‘We’ve known for many years that Sodom was located somewhere near the Dead Sea,’ he explains. ‘The Bible tells us that much. But the Dead Sea is large. What we needed was a marker, some concrete piece of evidence to tell us we were looking in the right place. And we found that marker – apples.’

  ‘Apples?’ I say, confused.

  Hans smiles. ‘An Apple of Sodom is a plant that, as written by Josephus – the first-century Jewish historian – grew near Sodom, and we found these apples growing in only one location, along the southern bank of the Dead Sea. Then, on a neighbouring ridge, we discovered Lot’s wife.’

  There’s a collective gasp as everybody leans closer across the table.

  ‘At first we thought it was nothing more than a rock,’ Hans continues. ‘But beneath the shell of sand and dirt we found the crystallised shape of a woman. Genesis tells us that Lot’s wife looked back at Sodom and was transformed into a pillar of salt. So all we needed to do was to start searching in the direction she was looking. And Lot’s wife was looking directly at the Dead Sea.’

  ‘And what good is that to us?’ Lothar scoffs, screwing up his face.

  ‘More than you would think,’ Jens reprimands. ‘Now keep your mouth closed and let Hans finish explaining.’

  ‘The Dead Sea has been receding over the course of the past century, revealing secrets it has hidden for thousands of years,’ Hans continues. ‘We only needed to explore thirty yards off shore before we discovered the remains of an ancient city. And it’s mostly intact, almost perfectly preserved. It looks as if the Bible got its facts wrong concerning the fate of Sodom. The city was not destroyed by fire and brimstone. It was swallowed by the Dead Sea.’

  ‘So we’ve discovered Sodom,’ the Witch Bishop says. ‘But we still need to find the Hall of Records.’

  ‘I’ve never read about a Hall of Records in Sodom,’ Lothar says, ‘but the Writings of Lot – a collection of clay tablets found at the turn of the century in a cave along the shores of the Dead Sea – tell of a mausoleum located in Sodom. It was constructed to serve as a great king’s mortuary temple, but one of his descendants converted a section of the temple into a secret chamber that was used as a repository of knowledge, containing artefacts and scrolls dating back to the very beginning of civilisation. According to the Writings of Lot, it is also enormous, being the largest single chamber ever constructed in ancient times. In order to prevent robbers from entering the chamber, the door was sealed, and the entire building was riddled with traps. One can only assume this secret chamber is the Hall of Records.’

  ‘I, too, have heard of this chamber,’ Francesca says. ‘For many years the Custodiatti has searched for it. But we could never locate Sodom.’

  ‘Let’s assume, then, that this mausoleum contains the Hall of Records,’ Ferdinand von Fürstenberg says. ‘But the city will be vast. How do we find this building? And if we do manage to locate it, how will we get to its secret chamber?’

  ‘The building itself shouldn’t be too hard to locate,’ Lothar says with an air of authority, eager to impress. ‘The mausoleum was enormous, standing over two hundred feet high. It towered over the rest of the city.’

  ‘This is all fine,’ the Witch Bishop says. ‘I mean, we now know the location of Sodom, and we know what the Hall of Records looks like. But we’re overlooking one small problem: Sodom lies at the bottom of the Dead Sea! How are we going to get a team down there to retrieve the Tablet of Breaking?’

  ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult,’ Jens says, his tone dismissive. ‘Particularly when you take into account that we’ve not only already discovered the building you believe to contain the Hall of Records, but we’ve also sent in a team to explore it.’

  There’s a moment of stunned silence.

  ‘How did you manage that?’ I ask, baffled. ‘It’s not as if you can swim down that deep and explore around. Or can you?’

  ‘No. You wouldn’t be able to hold your breath for that long,’ Grand Hexenjäger Wrangel confirms, appearing as perplexed as I am.

  ‘My point exactly,’ I say. ‘So how, then, did you manage to get a team down to explore the mausoleum?’

  ‘Leonardo da Vinci, the famous Renaissance artist, sculptor and inventor, postulated that it was possible for man to travel underwater in an airtight submersible vehicle,’ Jens explains. ‘He even went so far as to create a series of blueprints detailing how this vehicle was to be built. But da Vinci’s plans never went further than the drawing board. His submersible vehicle was never created – that is, not during his lifetime.

  ‘It’s a little known fact, but earlier this century a Dutch inventor named Cornelius van Drebbel – who was at that time working for the English navy – procured a copy of da Vinci’s plans and achieved the impossible: he created the world’s first underwater navigation vehicle. It made several voyages in London, sailing up the Thames for several miles. It could carry over a dozen passengers, and on one occasion carried the King of England, James I. And we managed to get our hands on a copy of v
an Drebbel’s blueprints. We have already created our first submersible vehicle – aptly named the Drebbel. Having made some modifications to van Drebbel’s original plans, our vehicle is capable of travelling deep enough to reach the entry chamber at the bottom of the mausoleum. And as we speak, a second submersible vehicle, the da Vinci, is being created. It should be ready before the end of the month.’

  Grand Hexenjäger Wrangel shakes his head in bewilderment. ‘This is unbelievable.’

  ‘Life is full of the unbelievable,’ Jens returns. ‘But nothing is impossible. All that is needed is some ingenuity and a great deal of faith. It’s just a shame that we live in a world in which scepticism prevails and there are so many ready to ridicule others.’

  It’s no great mystery as to who that comment was directed at, and it didn’t miss its mark. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lothar recede into his seat.

  ‘So we have a vehicle that can take us to the mausoleum. That will make our job easier,’ Friedrich Geist says, looking directly at me.

  It’s the first time he’s opened his mouth during the entire meeting. He has a voice that sounds as though he’s chewing on gravel, hoarse and dry. I don’t like what he said. What, exactly, did he mean by ‘our job’?

  Friedrich reads the confused look on my face. ‘I’m leading the team that will find and destroy the Tablet of Breaking,’ he says. ‘And, as the only known person to have encountered one of the Watchers, you’ve been selected as part of that team. You’re going to take part in the greatest treasure hunt ever seen in the history of our world.’

  Dumbfounded, I stare at Friedrich, struggling to digest his words. Me? I can barely hold my own in a fight against a lone witch! Of what possible use will I be to such a mission?

  ‘Before this meeting took place, I met with Ferdinand and Friedrich to discuss what we would do if we were to discover where the Tablet of Breaking was located,’ Grand Hexenjäger Wrangel says, seeing my shock. ‘We decided that a team would be sent to recover the relic. As Friedrich has explained, you are the only known living person to have seen one of the Watchers. We know so little about them, and your experience – albeit limited – may be invaluable to the success of the mission. Besides, if all goes to plan, this mission will not involve fighting, for it will be a treasure hunt. What you lack in swordsmanship and combat experience, you make up for in resourcefulness. You proved this during the mission to Schloss Kriegsberg, and it is this quality that will be needed on this mission. Should a situation arise when fighting is required, there will be skilled swordsmen – both Hexenjäger and Milites Christi – who will accompany you.’ The Grand Hexenjäger pauses, then looks at me earnestly. ‘We have not made this decision lightly, Jakob. I believe you will be an invaluable asset to the team. I have every confidence that you will not let me down.’

  I look back at the Grand Hexenjäger, at the quiet strength revealed in his eyes. I feel honoured that he has such faith and confidence in my abilities. But I fear that my resourcefulness will only get me so far, particularly when we might run into the Watchers.

  ‘And who is to accompany us?’ I ask Friedrich Geist.

  ‘Hans and Francesca have been selected as part of the team,’ the leader of the Milites Christi says, nodding in turn at the archaeologist and tomb-robber. ‘I have also selected some of the best fighters from the Milites Christi and Hexenjäger to accompany us. It will be a small team, but highly trained. I am confident that we will be able to deal with any problems we may face.’

  ‘And when do we leave?’ I ask, expecting that I will at least have a day or two to prepare for the adventure.

  ‘Within the hour.’

  I stare blankly at Friedrich. Within the hour! That barely gives me time to pack, let alone mentally prepare myself for the mission and to say goodbye to my friends.

  ‘But before making your way to the Dead Sea, I need your team to take a brief – but vital – detour,’ Ferdinand von Fürstenberg says.

  ‘To where?’ I say, barely aware that I even asked the question, my mind still numb.

  ‘To a monastery in Greece,’ Ferdinand von Fürstenberg says. ‘Your weapons may only wound the Watchers, stalling them for a few seconds. It’s best you arm yourselves properly.’

  The meeting adjourned, I waste no time in returning to my quarters. I am assembling my weapons on my bed and packing some clothes when a familiar voice calls from my open door.

  ‘Going somewhere?’

  I turn around to face Christian von Frankenthal, his massive build taking up the entire doorway. ‘I’ve been selected as part of a team to go on a mission,’ I say, returning to my packing. ‘And we leave within the hour.’

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I thought I’d try to catch you before you left.’

  ‘How do you know of the mission?’ I ask, looking back at him.

  ‘Word travels fast in this fortress,’ he explains. ‘Besides, it came as no surprise to learn that something was up. For the head of the Milites Christi and Ferdinand von Fürstenberg to come here means that something big must be brewing – something that the Vatican is very concerned about, no doubt. I don’t know what was discussed at that meeting, Jakob, but it must have been important.’

  ‘It was,’ I say, feeling overwhelmed by all that I have learned this evening. ‘I wish I could tell you more, but I have been sworn to secrecy.’

  Von Frankenthal nods in understanding. ‘Then I won’t pry. But promise me that you’ll take care of yourself. Don’t do anything rash, like jumping off the top of a keep.’

  I cannot help but grin, thinking back to my first mission, when the Blood Countess had bewitched von Frankenthal and turned him on me. ‘Well, hopefully I won’t have you chasing after me this time. But seriously – I wish you were coming.’

  ‘I wish I could. But I leave at first light tomorrow morning with Lieutenant Blodklutt – sorry, Captain Blodklutt – and Robert to investigate reports of witchcraft in a nearby town. It could all just be a lot of rumours, but you never know.’

  As is customary in the ladder of offices within our order, Lieutenant Blodklutt had been promoted to the position of Captain after the death of Captain Faust during our last mission. There is some speculation that Armand may become Blodklutt’s new Lieutenant, but this has yet to be confirmed.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry if I were you,’ von Frankenthal continues, noticing the concerned look on my face. ‘As I said, I don’t know much about your mission. It’s all very hushed up. But from what I’ve heard, Friedrich Geist is one hell of a fighter. There are also three members of the Milites Christi waiting by horses in the bailey, all armed to the teeth. My guess is that they will be accompanying you. And I just bumped into Armand in the courtyard. He’d just come out of an urgent meeting with Grand Hexenjäger Wrangel and Friedrich Geist and he was in a rush, having just been informed that he had been selected as part of your team.’

  ‘Armand!’ I say, unable to control my excitement.

  I’m so glad I feel like dancing a jig. A former captain of Louis XIV’s Royal Palace Cavalry and a veteran of over thirty duels, Armand is a master swordsman. What’s more, over the course of the past month he has become both my closest friend and my mentor. He is a product of the French court and has a taste for fancy clothes, often wearing expensive silk-embroidered shirts and capes of the finest quality. He also has the annoying habit of punctuating almost every sentence he makes with a flourish of his handkerchief, which only ever seems to leave his hands when he reaches for his sabres. Despite this, however, there is an endearing roguish charm about Armand, and I find him to be sincere and trustworthy: two qualities rarely found in the libertines of the courts of Europe.

  ‘I knew that would cheer you up,’ von Frankenthal says. ‘But I’d best be off. I have my own preparations to make. Besides, there’s someone else here who has been bursting at the seams, waiting to see you.’<
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  He waves farewell and moves off down the corridor, laughing as he avoids a kick at the shins from Sabina.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, looking across at her, conscious of how messy my room is, with my weapons strewn across my bed and clothes lying in bundles in preparation to be packed. ‘I didn’t know you were waiting out there.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ she says, offended by von Frankenthal’s remark. ‘I just arrived. Christian just loves teasing me, that’s all. Do you mind if I come in?’

  ‘Not at all,’ I say, making a spot for her to sit on the edge of my bed.

  ‘I’ve heard that you’ll be leaving soon for your next mission.’ Sabina sits down and looks up at me. ‘It all sounds very secretive. No one knows a thing about where you will be going, or what this is all about. But were you planning on sneaking out of here without saying so much as a word of goodbye?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I say, somewhat slighted that she would even entertain such a thought. ‘But I have less than an hour to get ready. I planned on coming down to see you once I’d packed. I was going to . . .’

  Sabina cuts me short with her laughter. ‘There’s no need to ruffle your feathers, silly. I was only joking.’ She looks away, as if there is something on her mind. ‘The girl from Naples – is she part of the team?’

  ‘Francesca?’ I ask quizzically. ‘How do you know of her? And how do you know she’s from Naples?’

  ‘How could I not know of her?’ Sabina says, raising an eyebrow. ‘Since she arrived here this morning there isn’t a single man in the fortress who hasn’t commented on her beauty. I’m hardly jealous, but I’m sick to death of hearing about her. I’ll be glad when she’s gone. And I know she’s Neapolitan because that love-sick fool, Armand Breteuil, went up and asked her.’

  Much to Sabina’s annoyance, I cannot help but laugh. ‘He did what?’