‘Impress me? I almost bloody killed him!’
‘Really?’
He shrugged. ‘Well, maybe not . . .’ he conceded, ‘but it was a damned foolish thing to do.’
‘He has been practising for a while now,’ Adriana admitted.
‘With the sword?’ William said. ‘Who’s been teaching him?’
‘Well . . .’ she said and lifted her head, ‘don’t be angry, Will, but I’ve taught him a little . . .’
‘You?’ William barked. He was angry . Adriana knew how to use a sword; she had been taught by her father in Tresta before the town was destroyed by Count Ordrane’s men. But even she was a novice with respect to William and the monks of the Order.
‘And Peruzo,’ She added and smiled coyly.
William’s eyes grew wide. ‘Peruzo as well?! Behind my back . . . I don’t believe this!’
‘You said you wouldn’t be angry,’ Adriana protested.
‘I said nothing of the sort!’ William replied and untangled her arms from around his body. He stormed to the other side of the kitchen.
‘Marco is strong-willed and would find trouble with or without your blessing,’ Adriana called after him. ‘Peruzo taught him tricks in case he put himself in harm’s way. He didn’t want him defenceless.’
‘He encouraged him!’ William growled.
‘No, he didn’t,’ Adriana rebuked. ‘He tried to teach him to resolve conflict peacefully. As a monk is taught. But Marco would not accept that. You know him, Will . . . You know what kind of boy he has become. He is surrounded by death. His family was murdered by the same evil you fight against. You are a hero that everyone looks up to. And Marco feels no differently. He loves you. But worse, he wants to be you.’
William looked haunted. ‘I didn’t ask for his adoration, Adriana,’ he said.
‘But you have it all the same,’ she replied and walked over to him. ‘Whether you like it or not. Don’t be hard on Marco. Remember it was you who told him he could not be part of the Order. Perhaps if you had let him, he would have learned himself that there is a choice between fighting and not fighting.’
‘Do you think a boy of Marco’s age could learn the words of Sun Tzu? Do you think a boy like Marco could hold his nerve in sight of the horrors I witness on every mission? I very much doubt it.’
‘You have never given him that chance.’
‘I won’t let him be killed,’ William said. ‘Just once I’d like the people I care for not to be involved in whatever terrible things I have to endure.’ He bowed his head and closed his eyes. ‘You have both been through so much, you should not have to endure any more.’
‘Marco thinks differently. Maybe you should let him join the Order,’ Adriana cooed, and stroked his chest with her long fingers.
William shook his head. ‘If Marco joins, he will wish to serve under me. I could never lead Marco and be myself as well. It would be folly. Do you wish for that?’
‘No,’ Adriana admitted after a few moments.
‘Marco must be content with his apprenticeship at the farm, and that is the last word on the matter,’ William said. ‘No more training with the sword. I will speak with Peruzo tomorrow.’
‘Don’t be hard on him, Will,’ Adriana urged. ‘Peruzo has only done what he thought best in my nephew’s interests.’
‘As do I,’ William reiterated. He looked to the horizon and his brow knitted together, causing long lines of worry to age his face by years.
‘Is that everything?’ she asked.
‘Everything?’ he echoed.
‘There’s more, i sn’t there?’ Adriana remarked. ‘I know you too well. Something else is wrong.’
William fidgeted, but Adriana would not let it go.
‘Do you remember my friend Kieran?’
Adriana smiled. ‘The handsome one?’
William looked indignant.
Adriana laughed and cuddled him. ‘I’m only teasing. Yes, I remember Kieran. How could I not? You were inseparable until that night in Villeda.’
William rested his cheek against the top of her head and held her tighter. ‘I saw him in Prague a few weeks ago.’
Adriana pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. ‘He came to you?’
William nodded, his expression grave.
‘You’ve waited seven years for his return, so why so sad?’ she asked, judging his expression.
‘Kieran is dead,’ he said, and checked his remark after Adriana looked horrified. ‘What I mean is, the Kieran I knew is dead, since he became Dar’uka . . . One of those “angels”. Oh, he has changed so much, Adriana. He looks at me as a stranger might, not as a brother. He was so pale, and those eyes . . . He . . .’
Adriana put a hand to his cheek. ‘What is it?’
‘He put fear in me,’ William said, despairingly. ‘I loved him, but now he is this abomination. His power is unimaginable. And he is so cold. Before, he would have given his life for me, and I for him. Now I fear that he would take my life if it helped his cause. I mean nothing to him.’
‘But you are both fighting the same war, aren’t you?’
‘On different terms,’ William corrected. ‘And he wants to take Marresca on those terms.’
‘But Marresca is just a boy,’ Adriana said in disbelief. ‘They cannot seriously . . .’
‘They can,’ William interrupted. ‘And Marresca has told them he will. Just when I need him more than ever.’
‘You need Marresca?’
William looked down at her, realizing what he’d said.
Adriana fell silent. ‘You’re going away, aren’t you?’ she said finally, pulling away from him.
‘Yes,’ he murmured.
She walked over to the doorway of the kitchen and glanced back. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said, feeling guilty.
Adriana looked distant and sad. ‘I see.’
‘Adriana . . .’ William began, trying to think of something to say that would explain why.
‘I know you have little choice, William,’ she interrupted. ‘We’ll just have to make the most of our time together.’
William nodded but she left the kitchen in silence. He looked down at the bread but had lost his appetite. Drinking the water in two gulps he followed Adriana to the bedroom and stayed at the door as he watched her slip back beneath the blanket.
‘What if you were to leave?’ She said quietly, barely daring to say it.
‘What was that, my love?’
‘What if you left the Secretariat and the Order? What if you stayed here with me?’
William smiled. ‘You know I cannot.’
‘I know. But if you could?’
William strolled over and stroked away the hair from her brow. ‘If I could, I would, my sweet, sweet Adriana,’ he purred, but there was hesitation too.
‘I think you would not,’ She said as she pulled away.
William lowered his hand sheepishly. ‘Life is good right now,’ he confessed. ‘I have everything I want. I don’t want it to change.’
‘Life is good because you are alive,’ She told him. ‘Would you be thinking the same if you were dead?’
‘Foolish words,’ William scoffed, though his fragile laughter hid his understanding. He knew she was right.
‘Do you think I will wait for you to die? Do you think it is so easy for me to see you leave, thinking I may never see you again?’ she said angrily.
William laughed and took hold of her, Adriana squirming in his grip. ‘But I always do! I always come back!’
She wriggled out of his arms and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘One day you might not.’
The seriousness of her voice was enough for William. He didn’t want to part on such bad terms. ‘Maybe some day it can change,’ he whispered to her. ‘We will live a simple life, and I will become a farmer.’
‘You would?’ she asked hopefully.
He kissed her forehead. ‘I would do anything for you. Just be patient with me.’
Adriana rolled over onto her side. ‘Of course I will,’ She admitted. ‘I will wait for you until Judgement Day. You know I will.’
William did know, and that hurt more.
‘Lie with me,’ she said.
‘Later,’ he answered, now stroking her bare shoulder. ‘I am too awake with thoughts.’
‘I will stay awake with you,’ Adriana murmured drowsily, her words growing quieter and quieter. ‘If it bothers you so much . . .
you should try to convince young Marresca not to join Kieran. If it bothers you so much, you should talk him out of it . . .’
‘I could try, though would he listen to me?’ William whispered back.
There was no reply. Adriana was already asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dar’uka
I
There were few ties to bind Marresca to his life. When he left the monastery at Saint Laurence he had no need to say goodbye to the other monks, no need to pause at the places where he had spent most of his childhood training, the armoury where he’d been given his first sword, and where he’d begun to master most of the Order’s range of weaponry. He simply mounted his horse and urged it under the ivy-covered arch to the front gates, pausing by the two guards standing outside in the cold, the long mists of that spring evening settling about them.
‘Lieutenant,’ they greeted him.
Marresca nodded.
The first guard glanced at his comrade with suspicion. ‘It is past midnight. Where are you going at such an hour, sir?’ he asked.
Marresca stared down at him long and hard. He had not counted on there being some resistance to him venturing out so late.
‘He is here to see me’ came a voice from across the road.
The guards looked over and saw a solitary rider, his head covered by a grey hood against the chill of night. The rider stepped his horse forward and pulled away the cowl.
‘Captain Saxon,’ said the guard. ‘My apologies . . .
‘Not needed,’ William assured him. ‘It is indeed a strange night for a ride, but these are strange times. Are they not, Lieutenant?’
Marresca looked over at him and gave a curt nod.
‘Good night gentlemen,’ William said, and pulled his horse to the side to let Marresca trot past. William turned his mount about and rode alongside the lieutenant.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ William said, ‘I thought I would join you.’
‘If you wish, Captain,’ Marresca said, ‘but I doubt you will be going where I will.’
‘Quite,’ William agreed. ‘But if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to accompany you part of the way at least.’
The sky was almost clear except for a thin veil of mist hanging below it. There was a full moon that seemed to light the mist from one edge of the horizon to the next, the light extending to the fogbanks that clawed their way over field and ditch, rose against stone walls, and crept around tree and bush. The road from Villeda was thick with it, and the air was cold.
William pulled up his collar and breathed out a sigh. They had ridden two miles already and Marresca had not uttered a further word.
‘Why didn’t you come to me, Marresca? Why haven’t you spoken about your decision to anyone other than Cardinal Devirus?’ William said finally, The silence between them growing irksome.
‘What would you have me say, Captain?’ Marresca asked, either not seeing the problem or unwilling to discuss it.
‘I expected you to ask me about the Dar’uka,’ William complained. ‘I expected you to seek the truth about what you are letting yourself in for. My association with them is not a secret within the Order, is it? So why not come to me before now?’
Marresca shrugged. ‘It had not entered my mind, Captain,’ he confessed. ‘Being asked to join the Dar’uka is the greatest honour any man can ask for. It felt impertinent to question their reasons.’
‘It is not their reasons I speak of, L ieutenant,’ William griped. ‘I have seen what happens to men who trade in their mortal lives for this so-called gift. You remember my friend?’
‘Kieran Harte,’ Marresca said.
‘The same,’ William replied. ‘When he came to me outside the church in Prague, I saw what they had done to him. They ruined him, Marresca. They cut out his soul and left him dead.’
When Marresca glanced at him, William couldn’t tell whether the lieutenant was impressed by what he said. There was just this cold, flawless expression of indifference. Marresca shrugged again. ‘So you came tonight to convince me not to become Dar’uka?’ he accused.
William felt defensive and made noises of denial.
‘I understand why, Captain,’ Marresca said.
‘You do?’ William said hopefully.
‘You are looking after my welfare, as you always have,’ Marresca said, turning to look straight ahead towards the road that rose up one of the steepest of hills.
William felt relieved. ‘That’s right. Your welfare.’
‘So it has nothing to do with the Hoard of Mhorrer?’ Marresca said bluntly.
‘Naturally I would prefer you to join the mission,’ William replied. ‘You are the finest soldier in the Order. You will be greatly missed.’
The young lieutenant glanced at William again, and there was the faintest of smiles. ‘Thank you, Captain.’
‘My concern is your fate, Lieutenant,’ William said, hunching his shoulders.
‘My fate?’ Marresca stopped his horse abruptly. He turned in his saddle and studied William. ‘Or the fate of Kieran Harte, Captain?’
William stared at Marresca, stunned both by the accusation and by Marresca’s intuition.
‘This is not about Kieran . . .’
‘I believe it is, Captain,’ Marresca said. ‘He has changed and you do not like what he has changed into. It is only natural. He was like a brother to you, Captain.’
William nodded. ‘Yes. He was.’
‘Why did he become Dar’uka?’
William breathed out, a cloud that quickly melted. ‘For a deadly sin, Lieutenant,’ he said and brooded in the saddle. ‘Seven years ago, neither Kieran nor I believed in daemons or vampyres. We were just soldiers. We knew little or cared little for the affairs of the Church.
‘When we faced our first daemon, we barely escaped with our lives. but many didn’t. One of those killed was a woman called Katherine. She and Kieran were very much in love at the time. He blamed himself for her death. And when he stopped blaming himself, he blamed the daemon that killed her.
‘I resigned myself to what happened that night, but Kieran could not. His fury possessed him, and he sought revenge. That is why he became Dar’uka. For the sake of vengeance. To satisfy his own anger. He would murder all of Hell, if he was able.’
Marresca listened closely, nodding at every pause, and although at times it seemed as though his attention was elsewhere, William could tell by the intensity in his expression that the young lieutenant was taking in every detail.
‘I remember when I first met you, Captain,’ he said after William had finished. ‘You were sparring against Lieutenant Cazotte in the courtyard. When the sparring was done, M aster Yu gestured for us to leave. I watched from afar as you spoke to Lieutenant Harte. I saw you were close. As close as brothers.’
William felt choked up and he blinked rapidly to stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. He hadn’t expected Marresca to remember, and the mention of Kieran, then Cazotte, overwhelmed him. He looked away. ‘You have a good memory,’ he said, his words caught in his throat. ‘You were an initiate. Just a boy, as I recall.’
‘Now I am a man,’ Marresca reminded him. William looked back and saw clearly that he was. He was more of a man than many he knew. Courageous. Strong. A warrior without equal. ‘And I have made my choice, Captain. I have never had a brother. N ever a sister. I never knew my mother, and my father . . . He was just a travelling man who gave my mother a son. I never knew him either. My only family has been the Order. And now m
y family will be the Dar’uka.’
William nodded. ‘Don’t expect your new family to be as compassionate, Lieutenant.’
‘I won’t,’ Marresca said and started to ride again. ‘But I am not Kieran Harte. My reasons are not governed by vengeance. They are quite straightforward. I am a weapon. And becoming Dar’uka will make me the most powerful weapon there is against Hell. That is my reason – the only reason.’
As Marresca rode ahead, William hung back to think about this. The lad had certainly thought it through, and some of it made sense. He was a strong warrior, and would become stronger as Dar’uka. A warrior of little equal, even among the angels. Would such a warrior drive fear into the heart of Hell? Would such a warrior bring a swift end to this eternal war?
But there was also the matter of the mission to the Sinai.
‘What if you delayed your decision?’ William called after him, and trotted up the hill to be at his side again. ‘What if you came to Egypt first?’
‘To fight the Rassis Cult and take the prize?’
William, again, was surprised. ‘How much do you know about my mission?’
‘Cardinal Devirus told me everything,’ Marresca said. ‘I have known about the Rassis for some time. It was part of the cardinal’s teachings. I also know of the Hoard of Mhorrer. It will be a dangerous adventure.’
‘All the more reason for you to delay your decision and come with me to Egypt,’ William replied cannily. He smiled at him, but it was not reciprocated.
‘The Dar’uka wish for an answer by the third full moon,’ Marresca said, gesturing to the bright glow behind the mist.
‘They can wait surely?’ William said.
Marresca did not reply.
*
After half a mile, The road began to level off. The conversation rarely turned from the Dar’uka, but Marresca sidestepped William’s wish for a delay by asking questions about the angels. After a brief description of the battle in Aosta, Marresca told William what he knew, and again revelations were abundant, as William soon discovered he knew less than Marresca.
‘The Book of Man speaks only of the first five Dar’uka,’ Marresca told him, ‘not of those who replaced the fallen. Did you know, for instance, that one of the first Dar’uka, a man called Mykael, was killed by Ordrane?’
The Hoard of Mhorrer Page 9