The Heretic

by Joseph Nassise

  “You lied to me,” Cade said flatly.

  “And a good morning to you, too, Commander,” Michaels replied, outwardly maintaining his casual air while his mind worked to figure out the angles. Donaldson, a thin man with a narrow face, scrambled to his feet, protesting the intrusion and doing his best to explain to the Preceptor how he had tried to keep the men out of the office. Michaels waved his hand, indicating to the frantic man that everything was all right. “Fine, fine, Donaldson, yes, thank you for your help. Now please excuse us while the Commander and I have a chat.”

  Cade waited until the other man had left the room before continuing. This time his voice took on a decidedly menacing air. “You put my people in unnecessary danger for political expediency. Tell me why I shouldn’t just put a bullet through your skull to keep it from happening again.”

  Michaels stood, facing the Echo Team leader squarely. “I did no such thing, Commander. And if you ever threaten me again, I’ll have you locked up faster than you can blink.”

  Duncan spoke up. “You need to listen to him, sir.” While he said it respectfully, it was clearly not a request.

  The Preceptor looked at him briefly, then turned his attention back to the Heretic. “If you’ll curb that notorious temper of yours, I’m quite certain we can get to the bottom of whatever is bothering you.” To quell some of the tension in the room, he came out from behind his desk and moved over to the wheeled breakfast cart standing in one corner. He poured himself a cup of coffee and offered the same to the other two men.

  Cade snorted. “I don’t have time for social niceties and other bullshit. Get to the point.”

  Michaels let some steel creep into his own tone. “I’m getting to the point, Commander.” He took a sip of his coffee, added more sugar. Still standing, he asked, “Just why do you believe I lied to you?”

  The anger was still clear in Cade’s voice. “You set us up without telling us the details.” Cade mimicked the Preceptor’s voice, “I need a combat team on this one; an investigative unit just won’t do.” His voice rose. “Of course you did! More specifically, you needed my combat team; who else would be crazy enough to take on the Adversary without help? You sent us in blind, and it’s pure luck that all of my men are still standing at this point.”

  The Preceptor visibly paled. “The Adversary? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Michaels. You’ve known all along whom that damned Necromancer was working for. Just as you’ve known what they were after. Did you think the existence of the Custodes Veritatis was a minor issue, nothing of any real importance to us? Did you truly believe we wouldn’t find out about it?”

  But Michaels wasn’t playing coy. “You are correct. I chose not to disclose the existence of the Guardians to you. I see now that I should have, but as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty. We operate on a need-to-know basis for very obvious reasons.” The Preceptor attempted a smile, hoping to ease the mistrust that had developed between them. “You of all people should understand the need for operational security. But what does all this have to do with your Adversary?”

  Cade’s anger was partially an act, designed to get the Preceptor to make a mistake and reveal himself if he was a traitor. Appearing to look somewhat mollified, Cade gave out another tidbit as bait. “The sorcerers we’ve encountered have far more power than any currently active group we know of. They didn’t just pick that knowledge up off the street; it takes years of practice and a direct connection to the demonic. In this case, their connection was the Adversary. The sorcerer leading the assault against the Broadmoor commandery had its particular stench all over him.”

  “That makes no sense, Commander. Based on your report this group doesn’t number more than a handful of individuals. That’s like jabbing a hornet’s nest with a sharp stick.”

  Ignoring the Preceptor’s statement for the moment, Cade made one of his own. “Operational security’s a poor excuse if you knew the real targets of these attacks were the Guardians.”

  “But we didn’t know that. We still don’t. And my oath to the Order prevented me from disclosing their existence or information about the relics they are supposed to protect. Now, however, I would say that it is time for you and Nigel Stone, the Guardians’ commanding officer, to meet.” The Preceptor reached for the phone.

  Cade delivered his knockout punch, waiting the other man closely as he did.

  “Stone’s dead.”

  “What?” The phone dropped back into its cradle, and there was genuine shock on the Preceptor’s face.

  “Stone’s dead. We found his gutted body in a safe house in upstate New York more than fifteen hours ago. From what we could tell, he’d been tortured extensively.”

  “Good Lord!” The Preceptor collapsed back into his chair, clearly unsettled by the news.

  Cade went on, ruthlessly. “If we’d known earlier, if you’d told us everything we needed to know, we might have been able to save him. He didn’t have to die!” He slammed his fist on the desk in frustration, then took a moment to gain control of his emotions. When he resumed speaking, his voice was level once again. “He was concerned about a leak in the Order. Did you know that?”

  Still dazed by the news, the Preceptor nodded almost absently. “I’ve suspected it for some time, though I’ve been unable to pinpoint the source. Nigel was aware of my concerns. In fact, he was the one who convinced me of the problem.”

  “Great. Just what we need, a mole. As if a group of necromancers allied with the Adversary wasn’t enough.”

  The Preceptor shook off his sorrow and focused on the discussion. “What do we know about the sorcerers?”

  Cade stalked away from the desk and began to pace. “Stone left some information indicating he thought it was a small group known as the Council of Nine. While I wouldn’t have put them at the top of the list on my own, everything we’ve uncovered so far ties neatly with the information Stone left for us. The group’s leader, Simon Logan, has been a fringe player for some years, but has never shown this level of ability before.”

  “Another reason to believe they’re getting outside help,” said Duncan.

  “But for what? What do they want? Are they crazy enough to think they can take on the entire Order?”

  Cade shook his head. “They’re not after the Order. They’re after the Spear of Longinus.” He outlined his conversation with the shade of Julius Spencer and used the visions he’d experienced in the Templeton cemetery as corroborating evidence. “If I’m going to be effective against our enemies, I’m going to have to know more about where and how the Spear is being stored,” he said to the Preceptor.

  Surprisingly, Michaels agreed. “I’ll do better than that, Commander. I’ll show it to you myself.”

  Like many of the other commanderies across the country, the one in Bristol extended below ground for several levels. It was there that much of the community’s actual work took place; monitoring world events, training Templars on the latest high-tech weaponry, and the like. Here, hidden from view, lay the true work of the Order. The underground levels contained classrooms, laboratories, gymnasium facilities, a shooting range, and even a full-scale replica of a two-bedroom house used for live-fire exercises was tucked away in a large cavern on the third level below the surface.

  Duncan and Cade were about to find out that below that level there was another, one that neither man had been aware of. It was the home of the Custodes Veritatis, the Guardians of Truth.

  As they walked, the Preceptor brought the two men up to date.

  “The Guardians have been in existence since just after World War II. Operating completely independently from the Order’s normal chain of command, they have been charged with one purpose - protecting the Order’s Holy Relics at all cost.

  “At any given time, there are only fifty active members. They are selected as much for their ability to deal with the extra natural as they are for their physical capabilities. The majority of them also have extremely hig
h reserves of personal faith. About twenty percent of them have been ordained.”

  They went down several levels to where a long corridor stretched out before them. As they continued walking, Duncan asked, “Are they all stationed here?”

  “No, though the majority are simply because this is where the Reliquary happens to be located at the moment. We move its location every few years, just to be on the safe side.

  “The commander of the unit is always a senior officer known for his loyalty to the Order and his devout belief in the Lord. He reports to the North American Preceptor exclusively. Stone had been in command for the last ten years and was probably one of the best, if not the best, ever to have held the post.”

  A set of offices were on either side at the end of the hall; their interiors dark, their doors locked. Peering through a window, Cade noted a standard office setup, complete with a calendar showing that day’s date on the wall. All of them appeared perfectly normal, which Cade figured was precisely the intention. Hide in plain sight, he thought with respect to whoever had designed the place.

  Reaching the end of the corridor, the Preceptor removed a chain from around his neck. On it were a standard metallic key and an electronic pass card. He inserted the key in the lock of the last office on the left, opened the door, and motioned for Cade and Duncan to follow. Without turning on the lights, he moved across the empty room to another door on the far side of the office. He held the pass card up to a small black box mounted next to the door. There was a soft beep, and the door opened inward.

  Another corridor was revealed on the other side.

  At the end, a guard station stood before a vault-like security door. There were two guards on duty, and one of them exchanged the daily password with the Preceptor, despite knowing him on sight. The Preceptor was then asked to place his hand in a small sensor unit mounted on the wall next to the door. A moment passed as the security device compared the digital image it held of his palm print to his actual hand. When the test was completed a chime sounded. Michaels stepped up in front of the door, stated his name in a clear voice, then followed that with a long series of numbers.

  A few seconds after he finished speaking, the door before him slid open without a sound.

  “This way, gentlemen,” he said.

  On the other side of the door was a command center. Computerized monitoring stations were arrayed in a semicircle facing a large observation window, which in turn looked out over a room the size of a football field. Three men manned the workstations, and Cade could see several others moving about the floor of the room just beyond, where scores of items were sealed in special protective cases.

  The Preceptor turned to them with a look of pride.

  “Welcome to the Reliquary,” he said.

  23

  “This is incredible,” Duncan whispered, and Cade had to agree.

  It was incredible. On either side of them, vacuum-sealed chambers mounted on individual pedestals held artifacts both ancient and modern. From where he stood Cade could see Veronica’s Veil, Moses’ staff, a habit worn by Mother Teresa - the list went on. It was a veritable treasure house, even if only from a historical perspective. If just half of the things said about these items were true, then it was a collection that was absolutely priceless.

  And full of power.

  In the hands of the wrong people, people with the knowledge of how to harness that arcane power, many of these objects could cause widespread slaughter and destruction. It was no wonder the Order had locked them away for safekeeping.

  Cade wandered among the rows for several more minutes, fascinated by what he saw. At last he turned to the Preceptor, a question on his lips.

  “The Spear?”

  The Preceptor smiled, anticipating the question.

  “This way. It has a room of its own.”

  A side gallery was situated to the left of the main floor, and they found a watch captain on duty there. The captain had the Preceptor sign the logbook, then walked with him farther along the edge of the room until they came to a set of highly polished double doors. Here the Preceptor submitted to a retinal scan. When it was concluded, the system beeped once, and the doors opened.

  As the doors slid open, the interior lights automatically came on, revealing a small room with a long, narrow, steel-reinforced glass display case in the center. The Preceptor held out a hand, indicating that they should enter.

  Cade stepped forward. Inside the case, on a bed of white silk, was the head of a Roman lance. The blade itself was made of iron and was several inches in length, with a winged shape and an ornamental pin inserted down its center. Two additional wings had been added at the base and were tied to it with dark leather straps. The wood of the shaft looked new, and he assumed the original had long since been lost, but the blade had been remounted on a perfectly crafted length of polished oak some nine feet in length.

  Peripherally, Cade saw Duncan genuflect, then sink to one knee in homage to the Spear.

  Obviously, his teammate was convinced of the Spear’s authenticity, that this was indeed the very weapon that had pierced the side of the Messiah, but Cade was not so certain. He didn’t have Duncan’s faith and therefore didn’t take the provenance of the weapon at face value. To test it, he triggered his Sight.

  Looked at through that perspective, the head of the lance was bathed in a brilliant golden glow, a glow so bright that Cade had to turn his face away to shield his eyes from its intensity.

  Returning his vision to normal, Cade stepped away from the display case. Turning, he found the Preceptor watching him closely.

  “Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Stop doubting, and believe,” the older man said softly.

  Cade didn’t need to be a biblical scholar to recognize the passage regarding the Apostle Thomas, but he pretended he hadn’t heard it. He wasn’t about to argue faith with a man who hadn’t walked the paths he’d walked, hadn’t seen the things he’d seen. The thought of a weapon with that kind of power in the hands of the Necromancer made his skin crawl. To have it fall into the hands of the Adversary was unthinkable.

  Duncan finally arose, his impromptu prayers done, and rejoined them by the door. “What now?” he asked.

  Cade caught the Preceptor’s eye. “In the end, Stone probably told them what they wanted to know, you realize.”

  The Preceptor nodded. “Which means they’ll be coming for the Spear.”

  “And anything else they can get their hands on,” Cade replied.

  “So do we move it now, while we have the chance?” Duncan wanted to know.

  Cade shook his head. “While the final decision is up to the Preceptor, I’d say no. We have adequate defenses here, and we know what we are up against. Moving the Spear simply puts us at a disadvantage. If there is a mole, and he were to leak the information, we’d be on unfamiliar ground, with only a small force to protect the weapon in the event of an attack. Staying here means we know the territory, can better anticipate and, therefore, prevent any action the Enemy might take.”

  “I agree,” said the Preceptor. “How do you suggest we prepare the defenses?”

  Cade gave it some thought. “Based on the attack in New York, we know they are conjuring up darker forces and using them to breach the gates. I’d expect them to do the same again; without knowing we’re on to them, they’ll continue using the same strategy they’ve employed in that past.” As he spoke, Cade headed back toward the control room, the other two men half-a-step behind. “We’ll need to be ready to deal with the supernatural side of their forces. First, we get the troops we have on immediate alert. For all we know, the Council could strike at any moment, so we want to be protected to some degree in case they do. In the meantime, I would suggest activating the rest of Echo Team and possibly Bravo as well. Once they get here, we should have enough men to hold the commandery indefinitely, provided we can neutralize their sorcery early in the game. We also need to get our own mystics into position ASAP. Have them raise the wards arou
nd the property, make it as difficult as possible for the Council to enter the grounds.”

  “Very good. I’ll turn defense of the complex over to you, Knight Commander,” said Michaels. “I’ll take active control of the Veritatis soldiers and coordinate the defense of the Reliquary with you as we move forward.”

  The defense of the Spear had begun.

  24

  Hours passed, and there was still no sign of the enemy. Daylight gave way to night. During the day Cade made regular visits along the defenses, to see that the men were ready.

  Still, the Enemy did not come.

  Frustrated by the long wait, Cade decided to take a walk. He hoped the exercise would clear the haze from his thoughts, refocus his attention on the matter at hand. Without any clear destination in mind, he reentered the house and began to make his way through the halls, lost in thought.

  A short time later he found himself in a quiet corridor somewhere in the depths of the lower levels. Around him, all was silent. Ahead of him, a soft light spilled forth from an open door at the end of the hallway.

  The light beckoned.

  Curious, Cade moved to investigate.

  As he got closer, he could see that the door opened onto a small chapel.

  It was a simple affair; several rows of wooden pews standing before an altar. A large wooden crucifix hung on the wall above. Off to the left, in a small alcove all its own, was a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mother hemmed in by scores of votive candles. It was their light that had captured Cade’s attention.

  He paused in the doorway, considering.

  It had been a long time since he’d spoken to God, longer still since he’d set foot in a place of worship. It was a situation he rarely considered consciously, though the irony of the truth of it in conjunction with his Nickname among the rest of the Order was not lost on him. But there he stood in the doorway, too tired even to think up an excuse for turning away.