Templar Scrolls: a Nia Rivers Adventure (Nia Rivers Adventures Book 3)

by Jasmine Walt

  “I no longer need your pity.” His eyes fastened to Mary Magdalene lying sedate in the coffin. “Like you, I have found another. The Holy Grail. Mother Mary’s power has been resting quietly on the ley line thanks to her husband’s sentimentality.”

  With a signal from Arthur, the knights pulled rank around the body of the ancient witch.

  Merlin sighed. “No one has to die tonight. Just submit to me, surrender your power, and you too will find his glory.”

  “I already have a date with death,” said Gawain. “And it ain’t tonight.”

  “It’s over, Merlin,” said Arthur.

  “Oh, brother, it’s only just begun. You think I am still the weakling you all pitied when you were children. But I am strong now. I am the way, the light.”

  Merlin opened his hand. Arthur’s eyes widened, and I saw him grit his teeth. His sword arm began to shake. The veins popped out as he gripped the sword first with one and then with a second hand. But his fingers peeled off and the sword flew through the air, straight into Merlin’s magical grasp.

  The knights’ faces went lax at the sight of Excalibur in the hand of another. Arthur’s hands hung limp at his sides as he eyed his greatest weapon in the hand of his brother.

  “Our kind have been persecuted for ages,” said Merlin. “But I’ve seen the light. The true followers will get to the Father through me.”

  Merlin raised his free hand. I could feel the energy swell in the room. I felt my own sai wiggle in my hand. I tried to tighten my hold, but the blood still leaking from my finger made my grip loose. Then my weapon was yanked away.

  It rose vertically, then came to lie flat, right at my throat. One look around the room showed that every sword was pointed at its owner’s throat. Including Excalibur at Arthur’s.

  “I was once weak,” said Merlin. “But now am strong. Was blind, but now I see. Amazing is His grace.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Lance palm a dagger. He reached up with the smaller weapon and parried his sword, striking it hard enough that the blade was blown to the side. The small amount of room gave him a way forward, and he charged Merlin.

  Merlin pointed his finger at Lance, and the knight was lifted into the air off his feet.

  “You think you are righteous in this action?” said Merlin. “But you’ve broken our Lord’s covenant. You have coveted my wife for decades. For your sins, you shall feel my wrath.”

  Lance’s body was thrown like a rag doll into the wall. A scream tore through the room. It was Gwin as she looked at the knight’s crumpled body. She took a step toward Lance, but her body froze in motion.

  With a wave of his hand, Merlin set Gwin’s feet toward him. It was clear that she fought his hold on her. But Merlin’s magic was dark and twisted. Gwin and the other witches hadn’t been trained in combat. Gwin knew only how to heal and shield those she cared about.

  “I did love you,” Merlin said as he brought her before him. “I did not start to truly live until the moment you were born. I knew you were meant for me the moment I felt the strength of your magic. And you will be a part of me forever.”

  I had been inside the rituals of the Greeks where they took the souls of their Devoted. That had been a heady experience, an offering from a Chosen human to a powerful god. I had also been present when souls were ripped from humans’ unwilling bodies. During that sacrilege, the air had been muggy and dense.

  As Merlin began to claim Gwin’s magic, it felt as though the air was being sucked out of the room. And we were all helpless to do anything. The swords at our throats pressed on.

  As her body arched back from the taking, Gwin’s head turned. Her eyes connected with mine. Her gaze dipped to my bleeding hand. I saw her gulp. She shut her eyes briefly. Then they turned back to her husband. Her voice when she spoke was a strained whisper.

  “I would’ve given my soul if you had asked.”

  She opened her hand. The Spear of Destiny flew up from its place at the entryway and came to her. Then the woman of peace, the woman who healed the wounds of others, the woman who had given part of her soul to her husband, thrust the blade into Merlin’s side.

  His eyes widened, and he let her go. They both fell to the floor. So did the spear. So did all the weapons aimed at our necks.

  Loren was closest to Gwin, and she went to her. Gawain went to Lance. Arthur reached for his sword and pointed it at his bleeding brother. The spear had only pierced the fabric and the skin of Merlin’s side, but he was bleeding profusely. Before Arthur could say a word to offer mercy or raise his sword to deliver a final blow, the sound of a dozen safeties being released rang throughout the tomb.

  We looked up to find the entryway filled with ISIS soldiers and Knights Templar. But it was the man standing amid the soldiers who made me gasp and clutch for my weapons.

  22

  “Tisa, why am I not surprised to see you here? Wherever there is crumbling rubble, there you are trying to save it. Ah, and you’re with Horus this century.”

  “What are you doing here, Yod?”

  “Why, my life’s work, of course.”

  There were at least a dozen military-grade guns pointed in the room, held by the ISIS soldiers and Templars alike. I shuddered to think what had happened to our military escort outside.

  Yod stepped out in front of his two squads of religious zealots. His blond curls were tucked under a military-style cap. He wore dark fatigues over his honeyed skin. His dark blue eyes looked soulless as he eyed Tres and me. He wasn’t as old as Tres, but the impact of two other Immortals in close proximity sent a wave of nausea wafting through my head.

  I had made it a point to steer clear of Yod for more reasons than just the allergy. He held very little value for human life. He had no problem mowing down an entire civilization if it would suit his end. They didn’t know it, but these soldiers were just nameless, faceless pawns in his efforts.

  Now I knew who the messenger Merlin spoke of was. I could also imagine what the message had been. It was Yod’s M.O. He’d been doing this for centuries—picking off one member of a group and raising them above the status of all others only to divide the group and then conquer everyone.

  “It looks like you’ve done the job for me already.” He bent down to peer at Merlin, who still clutched at his bloodied side. The wizard groaned and held out his hand to Yod. Yod sighed in clear disappointment. “Only halfway done, then.”

  Merlin frowned, staring at Yod in confusion. “You are forsaking me?”

  I could only shake my head at the situation. History had a habit of repeating itself, and it was doing it again here. I honestly wasn’t sure if there was a God. But if there was, I knew for certain that someone as soulless and diabolical as Yod would not be their messenger.

  “But I am the chosen of God,” Merlin insisted, still not getting that he was a pawn in a larger plan.

  Merlin, it would seem, was just another whom Yod led to believe was a prophet. And now that Yod was done with him, and Merlin’s people sufficiently divided and weakened, Yod could pick off the rest of the magical community. We’d all played right into his hands.

  Yod chuckled. “You were just another false prophet, claiming to be a Messiah.”

  “But God spoke to me,” Merlin insisted, his voice growing weaker as his life essence continued to seep into the fabric of his robes.

  “Likely a side effect of the poison running through your veins,” said Yod. “What you erroneously call magic. Just like all the other false prophets had been touched by the same affliction. It’s a plague amongst mankind. Death is the only cure.”

  I had never known why Yod had such a hatred toward the religious and spiritual giants of mankind. Now it was becoming clear. He believed they were all descendants of witches. I had never made the connection, but thinking on it now, he may have a point. Warped though it was.

  Joseph of Arimathea, the uncle of Jesus’s mother, came from a magical line. There was a mention of the Prophet Mohammed in Hindu scriptures that, no
w that I thought about it, could be interpreted that he had magical blood when it stated that he would be given protection against his enemies. If I thought long and hard about it, I could make a connection that most spiritual leaders of the last few millennia had a connection to magic. I just didn’t have time to think about it right now, not with zealots pointing guns at my body and an insane Immortal in charge of the triggers.

  Instead, I decided to state the obvious, to keep Yod talking, as I worked out a way to get us all out of this. “You killed all the great prophets of human spirituality—Jesus, Mohammed, Siddartha.”

  “Of course,” said Yod. “We can’t have false prophets running around the world detracting from the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “Have you forgotten?” He smiled at me. “These humans need to believe there is a Heaven and a Hell, an almighty God looking out for them, but we know the truth. Don’t we?”

  Yod looked between Tres and me. Then he reached down and grabbed a handful of blonde hair. I took a step forward, but Tres held me back as Loren screamed with Yod’s grip around her locks.

  Loren reached up and clawed at Yod’s hand to no avail. Even with two other Immortals present, the impact of her nails would barely reach his notice. He pulled a dagger from his utility belt and held it at her throat.

  “Man’s weakness,” he continued, “has always been woman. Since Eve, on to Mary, and then Guinevere.” He peered into Loren’s blue eyes, so like her cousin’s. Gwin was on her knees, looking up helplessly as we all stared down the barrels of a dozen guns. “Females tempt us with fruits so sweet that they leave a bitter taste when they leave.”

  I could taste the bile in my throat as I saw Loren’s neck strain in his grasp. Her eyes connected with mine, and my hand itched for one of the daggers in my boot. But I knew the sharp blade would do no good against Yod and his Immortal body.

  Yod came to the sarcophagus, dragging Loren alongside him. His hands hovered over the reposed body of Mary Magdalene. “They say she was the greatest of her kind.”

  Then he turned to me.

  “Are you here for the Grail, Tisa? Did you think it was a cup? You were always so literal.” He chuckled. “No, this artifact is better than any tin cup. It’s a pristine witch’s body filled to the brim with magical energy.”

  “What are you going to do with her?” I asked.

  “Destroy the body, of course. Then kill this witch.” He jerked Loren. “And the knights. Magic is a scourge. Behind every notable prophet has been a witch. When they are all gone, mankind will only look toward one god.”

  The soldiers behind him most certainly thought he meant their god, but I knew that Yod thought of himself as a god. I also knew there was nothing I could do to convince those men that just as Merlin lay on the floor after his usefulness had run out, their bodies would soon be trampled under Yod’s heel. They weren’t my first concern. Loren was.

  “The only time there was peace in this world,” said Yod, “was after the flood. When they all were wiped away. Not everyone will get into the garden. There must be sacrifices.”

  The garden? Sacrifice?

  “And now that I have all the Knights of the Round Table, their great wizard, and their strongest witch, I can pick off the rest of them. Then the world will be rid of magic.”

  He looked to Tres and me as though waiting for our approval.

  “We are the true prophets,” said Yod. “Humans should follow our word. That’s why we’re here. To save humanity from sin.”

  “Excuse me,” Loren said. “Mr. Crazy Immortal guy?”

  I wanted to wring her neck myself to shut her up, because I didn’t have a clue how to handle this situation. I needed more time to keep working on a plan of escape. I didn’t need her stepping in with her snark.

  “Do you think I could get a last word before you, you know, off with my head?”

  Yod frowned down at her.

  “Okay,” said Loren. “All I want to say is that nothing can shield me from my destiny.”

  The room was silent except for the sound of running water. I noticed for the first time that there was a stream somewhere in the ground. I could hear the running liquid as it made its way through the rocks as it, too, puzzled out what the heck Loren was trying to say.

  She sighed and repeated her words. “Nothing can shield me”—she stared pointedly at Gwin—“from my destiny.” She stared pointedly at me when she emphasized the word destiny.

  Then she looked up to Yod.

  “Okay,” she said. His grip had loosened slightly. “I’m ready. On three, okay?”

  The knights around us had pinched expressions as their fingers twitched, eager to go into action, but helpless with the weapons trained on them. The soldiers were at a standstill, waiting for Yod to give them an order.

  Yod stared, completely befuddled, at the woman he thought was the Lady Guinevere. But I had gotten her meaning. I only hoped Gwin did, too. Otherwise, this would be a bust.

  “One,” Loren began. And then, “Wait, we’re going on three, okay? One, two, three—”

  Loren kicked at the Spear of Destiny, which lay at Merlin’s side. The staff flew up into the air and landed in my hand. I aimed it for Yod’s chest now that Loren had shifted into his side. The blade of the spear struck true. Yod’s eyes opened wide in shock and his hand released Loren. But they both tumbled to the ground.

  The sound of bullets filled the air. But none of them struck us. With everyone’s attention on the spectacle Loren had created, Gwin was able to raise a shield of protection around us.

  The knights quickly moved into action. Their magical swords could penetrate Gwin’s shield, and they picked off the Templars and soldiers with ease.

  I ran to Loren. She lay face down across Yod’s body. Yod lay with his eyes opened wide and his lips parted as he gulped down air with wet gasps.

  “Nia?”

  I looked down at Loren and gagged. Her brown shirt had turned a dark maroon. Across her chest was a gash where Yod’s dagger had struck her. The gaping wound was deep and would need more than a surgeon to heal.

  23

  “No,” I said as I grasped her by her shoulders. Loren’s head lolled back as her lips parted. Her eyes fluttered and then opened wide.

  For a moment, my brain was distracted by the fact that she was wearing my shirt. The expensive fabric was torn in two like the fashion of the eighties where shirts and pants and even skirts sported gashes and distressed looks.

  The tear on Loren’s flesh was no fashion statement. It was a death sentence.

  It had been inevitable. Since the first day we’d met on the steps of the Museum of the American Indian. She’d come down the steps in a Stella McCartney skirt with a call to adventure in her hands.

  I’d walked away from her that day, but I’d known in my heart that it wasn’t over. She’d been hogtied the first adventure she’d gone on with me, literally. She’d had her soul taken the second time, literally. And now, for the third time, her heart was in my hands, literally.

  I pushed at her chest, trying to stave off the blood flow. But her life’s essence continued to seep out of her. Her breathing was ragged and her body trembled.

  “No,” I whispered. Then I shouted it out. But there was no deity to answer my prayer. As I looked back down at my best friend, Loren smiled.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice croaking. “Don’t say I didn’t have your back.”

  I nodded. “Now I’ve got yours.” I brought her bleeding chest to mine, wishing that the beating of my heart was enough to heal hers.

  “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

  “No.” I shook my head in full denial as I held her close.

  “I need to ask you for something,” Loren said, her voice scratchy. “It’s really important and you can’t get mad, okay?”

  “Anything. Name it.”

  Her gaze slid off me and landed on something just over my shoulder. Tres stood at my back, dagger drawn even though not a single
enemy stood. The sounds of bullets and grunts of death had stopped. The Templars and soldiers were all down. Only the knights remained, and they all stood in a protective circle around Loren.

  “I love you and all, but do you mind if he holds me?” Loren asked. Her gaze was directed at Tres. “If I can’t live like a billionairess, at least I can pretend I’ll die like one.”

  “No,” I said.

  She closed her eyes with a wince. “Cock blocker.”

  “You’re not dying.” I looked around, my eyes wide. Then I saw Loren’s virtual twin standing over us. “Gwin. Help.”

  Gwin sank down to the ground on the other side of Loren. Her face was a torment of sorrow. “There’s too much blood,” she said. “I can’t heal this.”

  I shook my head. “You have to do something. She can’t die.”

  “There’s nothing...” But then she stopped. Gwin looked up at the body lying in the sarcophagus.

  Mary Magdalene continued her deathly slumber, completely undisturbed by the destruction wrought around her. Her body still glowed with the magic that filled her, the magic that would never die unless burned in ritual. Or siphoned and poured into another living witch.

  I turned to Gwin. She chewed at her bottom lip with uncertainty. I set my mouth in a determined line.

  “No,” Arthur said.

  I ignored his command. “Do it,” I said to Gwin. “Do it now.”

  “What you ask her to do is dark magic,” Arthur protested. “It’s what began this series of events in the first place.”

  “We’d all be dead if it wasn’t for Loren.”

  Arthur’s jaw was locked in dissent.

  “She’s your family,” I insisted.

  I looked around at the knights. There was uncertainty on many of their faces.

  “She’s my family,” I pleaded.

  Gawain came up to Arthur and put a hand on his shoulder. “It may be the only way to contain Lady Mary’s magic. If we burn her body as is customary, the magic will seep into the lines of this place. There’s too much strife here for this amount of magic to roam uncontained.”