‘One of the Cult’s members was a man called Ordrane . . .’
William raised his eyebrows. ‘Count Ordrane?’
Father Antonio nodded. ‘He was a student under Mhorrer; a gifted student according to the text. But Mhorrer saw ambition in the man as well. An ambition to rule rather than follow. It is said that Ordrane desired to imprison hundreds of men and women as hosts and through them release the daemons upon the world and conquer it for himself. Fearing that such a plan would rouse the suspicion of the Dar’uka, Mhorrer refused and hid the Scarimadaen from him. Most were scattered across the lands, hidden or lost, while Mhorrer concealed the greatest number of Scarimadaen in an unknown place to ensure that Ordrane would never find them.’
‘But isn’t the goal of Hell to conquer Man and drive us to our knees?’ William said, confused by the revelation.
‘Hell’s ambition differs from Ordrane’s,’ Devirus told him. ‘The Prince of Hell wants to punish Man for what has happened in the past. Only the destruction of Humanity will appease him. To achieve this, he must use more than the Scarimadaen. You see, The Scarimadaen are a tool, Captain Saxon. Like a scalpel. And the Rassis are the surgeons. They will unleash the Scarimadaen only at the right time.’
‘When?’ William said.
The cardinal shrugged. ‘No one knows. Whatever plans the Prince of Hell has to achieve his aim have never been recorded. They can only be wondered at. Or feared. We may have time, but how much time is not known.
‘Count Ordrane’s ambition is much simpler. He wants the kingdom of the entire world as his, and Humanity in servitude. To Ordrane, the Scarimadaen is the ultimate threat, The means to force obedience. He cannot control it, but he can dangle it before heads of State and make examples of cities. With the Hoard in his hands, he could control countries. Continents. The world would fear him for eternity. And in this aim he is impatient. He will not wait for some unspecified time. Count Ordrane wishes our enslavement now.’
William nodded thoughtfully. ‘His ambition contradicts the will of his masters.’
‘Correct,’ Devirus replied. ‘He serves only himself.’
William blew out his cheeks, feeling a little bewildered. ‘These Rassis . . . How will they react to Count Ordrane’s followers?’
‘We think aggressively, Captain,’ Father Antonio replied. ‘As far as the Rassis are concerned, Count Ordrane is an enemy. If they still guard the Hoard, the Rassis will no doubt know of the vampyres and the kafalas. They should be quite as hostile to them as they are to you.’
‘Me?’
Cardinal Devirus nodded again, his smile broadening.
‘The Hoard of Mhorrer has been found?’ William surmised, only whispering it in case it was untrue.
‘Yes! It dwells somewhere in the Sinai peninsula!’ Father Antonio said animatedly, leaning over the lectern with a wild expression. ‘Which is significant! For the Hoard to lie so close to Giza, where the Book of Man was discovered, must be no coincidence.’
‘Is there a connection between Giza and the Hoard?’ William asked.
‘None that we know of,’ Father Antonio admitted. ‘The site around Egypt’s pyramids was scoured by people from the Vatican, and nothing else was found. As for the Great Pyramids themselves, if there is a connection with the Scarimadaen, no scholar in history has discovered it.’
‘Gentlemen,’ Cardinal Devirus interrupted, ‘these are matters for philosophers and academics. For the sake of urgency, shall we return to the matter at hand?’
Father Antonio bowed apologetically.
William stared down at the map again. ‘I trust the information is reliable?’
‘We have a good man in Egypt by the name of Charles Greynell. He is well travelled and has risked much to come by such information. He is your contact in Rashid and will guide you to the Hoard,’ Cardinal Devirus said. ‘Your mission is simple, Captain. You must locate the Hoard by any means and bring it back to Rome.’
‘Return it here?’
‘The Scarimadaen will be properly destroyed in the Chambers of Deconstruction, Captain,’ Father Antonio explained.
‘I understand,’ William replied, but was concerned. ‘You do of course see that there is a very real chance that Count Ordrane will ambush us on our way back from the Sinai. For such a prize he would send an army of kafalas against us.’
‘We will send reinforcements to Rashid when we can,’ Cardinal Devirus said. ‘We are stretched thin as it is and this news has caught us unawares. To wait any further for our people to return from their various missions might cost us dear.’
‘Then you believe Count Ordrane knows the Hoard’s location?’
‘A distinct possibility, Captain Saxon,’ Devirus confessed. ‘Count Ordrane has many spies, as we do. And he has been searching for the Hoard of Mhorrer longer than there has been a Christian Church.’
‘What of this Rassis Cult?’ William asked.
Father Antonio leafed through the tome. ‘According to the Book of Man, only Mhorrer was apprehended and tried for treason, not the cult. The Rassis might still exist.’
‘Mhorrer died without passing on the hiding place of his Hoard,’ Devirus added, his fingers locked together. ‘His followers, if they survived, would have ensured utter secrecy on this matter. We are fortunate that we have found it after centuries of searching. Further time must not be wasted. You must gather your wits and prepare.’
‘I would like Lieutenant Peruzo with me,’ William said.
‘There is already a lieutenant waiting in Rashid,’ Cardinal Devirus replied.
‘And I am sure he’s able enough, but I trust Peruzo with my life,’ William explained. ‘Who else in the Order, apart from Engrin, has as much experience? This mission is a dangerous one, perhaps the greatest in the annals of the Order. I want the right men with me.’
Cardinal Devirus nodded. ‘Very well. Peruzo travels with you.’
‘And what of Marresca?’ William said suddenly. ‘We could use his help on such a mission.’
Devirus narrowed his eyes. ‘Brother Marresca has made his decision, Captain. He will not be coming to the Sinai.’
William bit his lip, realizing that all talk of persuasion had been a screen to placate him. Marresca had already agreed. He would be a Dar’uka by morning.
Devirus rose and motioned to Father Antonio at the lectern. ‘Antonio will furnish instructions, Captain. Study them well and then destroy them. There can be no record of the mission.’
Father Antonio took several letters from the lectern and passed them to William, his expression hopeful. William took them from his hands, while trying to hide his concern.
II
For two dark hours in the subterranean surrounds of the grottoes, William pored over the letters, reading them three times before burning what he’d memorized. The final letter was a message from Charles Greynell, which William read but kept with him:
To my sponsors,
This is a letter of some importance, yet written in haste as I believe I am being followed by the agents of malevolence. Note that while I cannot say too much, I will tell more when I meet your representatives in the city.
For your pleasure, as I am certain you will share this news with vigorous joy, the secret of the architect has now been discovered. In my possession is its whereabouts and we must not delay in locating and dispatching a treasure that is worth more than any currency of this world.
Again, I must advise haste. The secret I refer to may relocate if any inkling of discovery has been aroused. The Rassis are not indolent. If they find me I will be dead and the enigma will relocate elsewhere. I will guard all such matters with my life, but be swift. Other agents are here and may learn my secret. A riddle of fire that could be unlocked by wanderers in the desert.
Your faithful servant,
Charles Greynell
William had read the letter several times and found there were more riddles contained in its brevity than in a whole evening of conversation with Engrin
Meerwall.
He slipped the letter into his jacket and left the gallery quietly, Father Antonio’s voice echoing with Devirus’s in the map room.
The rooms were suddenly colder now, and William shivered as he made his way through the passage and the thick wooden doors to the grottoes beyond. Pausing first to take leave of the guards, he walked down the tunnel, the faint trickling of water resonating from some hidden place in the vast catacombs.
Only at the stables and in the outside air did the full implications of what had passed begin to dawn on him. Humanity and its nemesis had been searching for the Hoard for thousands of years. None had been successful, not even Count Ordrane, for all his power and influence. The mission might well promise failure and death. But it also offered the greatest victory ever known, a victory unparalleled. The victors would be immortalized, perhaps even as Saints.
William didn’t consider what consequence it would have on Adriana until he was trotting down the thoroughfare towards the bridge over the Tiber. She would surely baulk at his leaving again, and if she learned that this mission was so perilous, she would not easily let him go. Would she understand?
Through the thronging midday streets of the city, a colourful, bountiful medley of sights, smells and sounds, William could have been distracted, but they seemed colourless compared with the burden he had agreed to bear. all those he passed, from the beggar bowed in shame as he murmured pitiful requests for money, to the noble and his peacock-feathered hat, resplendent in jacket and breeches, flouncing down the main street with an entourage close behind in paid respect – all meant nothing beside this new quest.
Yet to fail would destroy all of it.
As he reached the suburbs, the weather took a different turn. The once fathomless blue skies were now smothered by quickly forming clouds, at first brilliant white, then bulging into grey and black, with rain in store.
It was a cold, bitter downpour that followed and William might have considered waiting for an hour or so before taking the journey back to Villeda, perhaps even frequenting a tavern nearby. But the matter at hand allowed him no choice.
He must return, and quickly.
III
Hours later he arrived in Villeda, soaked through and miserable. After a while, he dismounted and led his horse on foot through the streets of the town. Most of Villeda’s folk had retired inside save for a few dashing under cover with their hands full of food, drink or clothes. None noticed William, too preoccupied with staying dry. He let the water run from his scalp, his hair bedraggled and hanging over his eyes and down his neck.
As he turned down the next street, the rain was falling so hard he could only see a few yards in front and was up to his ankles in water. Grumbling, William patted his sodden horse and considered remounting him. But there was a sound nearby of crashing feet in water, and William turned just as something lunged towards him through the rain. He reacted at once and ducked the thrust, reaching for his sword. The accuracy was poor and would not have killed him, but the intention was there and he swung his own sword towards the assailant, his blade slicing through the downpour. The attacker bent to his right, parried and covered up as William fought him. Again he swung low but this time the attacker feinted left, brought his sword up and connected with William’s just above the hilt. With the water wetting his grip, the sword slipped from William’s fingers and flew through the air to skid through a puddle by his horse.
William stood breathless and defeated in the rain. The figure in front, a foot or two smaller and just as wet through, pointed his sword towards him for a few moments. He then walked steadily over to the puddle and retrieved William’s sword. Sheathing his own, he surprised William by presenting his weapon back to him, almost nonchalantly.
As he did so, William saw his assailant clearly.
‘By all that is holy!’ William cursed. ‘Marco?’
Marco grinned back at him.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ William ranted.
‘Hello, Uncle,’ he greeted gently.
‘I could have killed you!’ William shouted.
Marco laughed. ‘Today you wouldn’t have.’
‘You think this is a game?!’ William said incredulously.
Marco shrugged. ‘Not really. I felt I needed to prove myself.’
William lunged forward and took Marco’s arm roughly, yanking him over to the horse. ‘Prove yourself?’ he yelled. ‘Prove yourself by being killed? I would have run you through!’
‘I can handle myself!’ Marco protested.
‘You can handle nothing,’ William shouted. ‘And you’ve proved only that you are irresponsible.’
‘I need to join the Order! To serve with you!’
‘How many times must we talk about this?’ William growled. ‘This is not your destiny!You are not to become a soldier of the Order. N ever!’
‘I can make my own decisions,’ Marco retorted.
‘You are only fourteen years old . . .’
‘Fifteen in the summer.’
‘. . . And far too young!’ William shouted back.
‘Marresca is only three years older than I,’ Marco replied.
‘Marresca is a genius. You are not!’ William replied sternly, but fell quiet when he noted the change in the boy’s expression. Marco looked down at the ground, almost humiliated. William had hurt his pride. He relaxed and let go of his arm. ‘You are fine with a sword, Marco,’ he conceded, ‘but not good enough for the Order.’
‘I disarmed you,’ he said petulantly.
William did not reply, but mounted his horse. ‘Are you coming home with me? Or back to the Maldinis’? Either way, get inside before you catch a cold.’
Marco stayed silent, skulking away through the rain.
‘Bloody fool,’ William murmured, but was secretly worried. Marco had indeed disarmed him, and disarmed him well. He put it down to a lack of concentration more than anything. Yes, that was it. He was thinking about the mission ahead of him, and wasn’t prepared for an attack in Villeda itself. I mean, who would attack him in Villeda?
‘Plenty of people,’ William murmured to himself, thinking about Count Ordrane among so many enemies. He realized he had been complacent. The William of several years ago would not have been so relaxed.
And he could not afford to drop his guard in Egypt.
IV
Adriana sat in the porch combing her hair as the rain abated and the sun dared to return, the smell of fresh rain on the grass and the plants scenting the air. She put down the comb and sighed, waiting for her lover to return.
William rode up, his expression troubled. At first sight of her, he tried a dazzling smile that came out awkward under his sodden state, and could only make a half-hearted wave.
‘You’re soaked to the skin!’ she exclaimed as she stayed on the porch.
‘I think maybe to the bone’ he corrected, wiping the rain from his face. He dismounted and led his horse to the stable before jogging over to the house.
Adriana towelled him down and helped undress him. She could see he was preoccupied, yet felt playful as she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it away. Then she pulled down his breeches, towelling his chest, his stomach and then groin. There was instant arousal there, replacing his distraction. It was what she needed. She wanted him now concentrating on her.
William made love to her, though his thoughts were elsewhere.
Lying in bed, the outside world growing dark all too soon, William was drowsy and his mouth felt parched, tasting only Adriana. The smell of sex hung in the air as he sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He stood up and stretched, the chill of April causing him to gooseflesh.
William donned his gown and walked down the hall and into the kitchen for some water. He helped himself to a slice of bread from the work-table, and looked through the half-shuttered window to the world outside. The sky was clear and the stars seemed to shine brighter than they had in months. He found himself staring at them as he did most nights, sta
ring in case he saw a shooting star, and that shooting star might be Kieran. In the past he had hoped the shooting star would visit him, but tonight he hoped it didn’t.
‘Are you restless, my love?’ Adriana said behind him. William turned, surprised by her appearance.
‘You should be in bed,’ he said to her.
‘So should you,’ She replied.
William looked at the bread in his hand. ‘I was hungry,’ he said, ‘and thirsty.’
‘So am I,’ Adriana replied plainly as she crossed over to him. She reached up to his hand and William expected she would take some of the bread, but instead her hands ran down his arms and across his chest, slipping beneath the gown. She leaned up to him and his lips met hers twice, and then stronger. Putting down the bread and water, he held her close again, tasting her sweet lips and tongue, feeling himself grow harder against her body. He couldn’t believe how much desire one person could rouse in him, and he felt his reserves of energy being tapped again. Her hands moved over his body, pulling the gown apart. They ran lower to his groin and William gasped. She smiled and kissed him again before nuzzling close.
‘You put a fire in me, Adriana.’
‘The fire was already there, my love,’ she whispered back playfully. ‘I only feed it.’
William kissed the top of her head and sighed. ‘I wish it could last for ever.’
‘Then why shouldn’t it?’
‘Because . . .’ he confessed. ‘Because of who I am.’
‘I love you, William,’ she said. ‘And I will love you whatever you are.’
‘I know,’ William said. ‘Marco attacked me today.’
‘He attacked you? Where?’ she said, surprised and then pleased.
‘Just outside the square,’ William murmured. ‘The bloody fool jumped me.’
She laughed.
‘It’s not amusing, Adriana!’ William grunted, still bewildered by it.
‘With a sword?’ she asked.
‘Yes!’ William said, thinking she didn’t believe him.
‘He was just trying to impress you,’ she said calmly.
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