Mystic Warrior

by Alex Archer

  Sabre didn’t hear the explosion. This close in, he went deaf almost instantly. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut and lay atop Garin. He kept the shield up, trying to protect their heads. Several stone fragments struck them, and one of them was big enough and hit hard enough to numb Sabre’s arm. The shield slipped from his fingers.

  Pushing himself off Garin, Sabre reached into his vest pouch with his free hand and snaked out a glow stick, cracking it to life. Orange light pushed back the oppressive darkness. He held it above Garin, surveying the other man. Garin’s right eye was partially swollen shut and was still swelling.

  Garin said something else, but Sabre couldn’t hear the words, and he had no idea what language Garin was using, so he couldn’t read his lips, either. Sabre suspected it didn’t matter, because the man’s scowl gave away the nature of the words.

  Pushing himself to his feet, Garin stood and took out a pen flash. He switched on the beam and played it over the wreckage ahead of them. Shattered rock filled the throat of the tunnel. He kept the light out of Sabre’s eyes but reached over to him, pressing a finger against the younger man’s cheek. When Garin drew his hand back, his finger came away wet with blood.

  Garin reached into his chest pack and took out a bandage. He peeled the paper from the adhesive and affixed the large square to the side of Sabre’s face. As he worked, some of the feeling returned to Sabre’s face and he felt the throbbing pain. He wondered how bad the wound was.

  Garin turned to the tunnel and carefully negotiated the fallen rock as he made his way down.

  Face alive with pain now, Sabre pulled out a miniflashlight and his spare pistol and trailed after Garin. Spots floated in Sabre’s vision and he felt nauseous, but he followed.

  When they reached the basement area, the way was blocked with more fallen rock. Evidently, de Cerceau and his men had mined the tunnel, as well, to make certain they weren’t followed.

  Standing in front of Garin, Sabre directed his flashlight beam toward his own face, holding it under his chin. He spoke slowly. Where is Annja Creed?

  Garin shook his head, then spoke slowly, as well, with his own pen flash revealing his features. Escaped.

  Can we find her again?

  We will. Garin scowled at the room and headed back up the rock-strewed stairs.

  31

  Annja stepped through the jet’s doorway and found Ian waiting. He smiled brightly at her and offered her a bottle of water. “Welcome aboard again, Ms. Creed.”

  “Hi, Ian. Have you heard from Roux?” Annja felt a little better aboard the jet. She’d managed to escape the last drone and get away, but she was guessing Garin would be back on her trail soon enough. Still, the adrenaline payback was taking a toll on her system, making her irritable and tired at the same time.

  “Mr. Roux expects to join us in just a few minutes, actually. I talked with him a few moments ago.”

  “He didn’t take my calls.” Annja accepted the offered water and walked back into the jet. She dropped her backpack into one of the seats and tried not to feel too upset that Roux had ignored her.

  “From what I gather, Mr. Roux was busy gathering Dr. Racz and making certain Dr. Elcano was squared away. Then there was some difficulty with the local police. It seems nearly all of them are interested in locating you.” Ian maintained his station at the doorway. Noticing the way his jacket fit, Annja knew the man was now wearing a shoulder holster.

  “Are you expecting trouble?” Annja asked as she settled into a seat.

  “I am prepared for trouble. I would rather we had a quiet flight.”

  Annja raised the sliding cover from the window next to her and peered out over the airport.

  A pensive look twisted Ian’s features and he hesitated before speaking. “Ms. Creed, at the risk of alarming or offending you, you might want to reconsider peering out the window at the moment. The glass is rated bulletproof, but there are bullets that can get through even the most resistant defenses.”

  “I don’t want to alarm you,” Annja said, “but if the people who are chasing us show up to kill me, I don’t think they’ll settle for using a rifle. They’ll probably just blow up the jet with a missile.”

  Ian thought about that, swallowed and gave a tight nod. “Perhaps you’re right. Feel free to look out the window, in that case.”

  Annja did, but she reached in her backpack and pulled out the tablet PC, booted it up, then connected to the jet’s onboard internet. She pulled up the information about Janos Brankovic and reached for her sat phone.

  * * *

  EIGHTEEN MINUTES AND one phone conversation that yielded pleasant results later, Roux arrived with Racz in tow. Roux looked totally composed, as if he’d been out for an afternoon of sightseeing. The history professor looked somewhat shell-shocked as he stumbled into the jet’s main cabin and flopped into a seat. He was flushed and breathing rapidly.

  “Are you all right?” Annja asked.

  “I’m fine. I think.” Racz swallowed and looked pale. “I just feel...undone. Waiting for your friend to show up in the museum, especially after the explosions, was difficult. It was a very trying experience.”

  Annja had seen information about the explosions on the news releases she’d downloaded. She felt bad for Evita de Elcano. “I heard about the explosions. I’m glad you weren’t hurt, and I’m glad that Garin and de Cerceau didn’t find you.”

  “As am I.” Racz gave her a wan smile and tried to look relaxed but couldn’t quite pull it off. “I don’t think Evita is going to ever welcome me again.”

  “Evita is going to be fine.” Roux walked into the cabin with a drink in each hand. He sat in a seat across from Racz and held out one of the drinks to the professor. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.”

  As if in a daze, Racz accepted the drink and held it in both hands. “Evita’s museum is wrecked.”

  “It is, and she also just received a few million dollars in funding that will pay for the necessary repairs and help her do some additions that she has wanted to do.” Roux smiled. “Trust me. All in all, she’s a very happy woman at the moment. You just didn’t notice in all of the confusion. Now, drink up.”

  Racz lifted his drink and downed it like water.

  Roux raised a skeptical eyebrow and took the empty glass from the professor’s hand. Without looking, he held the glass above his shoulder. Ian took the glass and Roux made a small circle with his forefinger.

  “You’ve just had a little more excitement than you’re used to,” Roux commented. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “A little more?” Racz shook his head. “I’ve never experienced anything like the past two days.”

  Ian returned with another drink. Roux took it and offered it to the professor, who accepted it and knocked it back, too.

  “Everything is going to work out for the best. I’m sure of that.” Roux handed the glass back to Ian.

  “Mr. Roux,” the pilot announced over the radio, “we are cleared for takeoff if you’re ready.”

  “As soon as you can, Tamara.” Roux spoke in French as he scooted back in his seat and slipped on his seat belt.

  Racz struggled with his seat belt for a moment until Ian leaned in and fastened it for him.

  “Thank you,” the professor said.

  “My pleasure.” Ian nodded.

  “May I have another of those drinks?”

  “Of course.” Ian plucked the glass from Racz’s hands as the jet jerked into motion.

  “Where are we going?” Annja asked as Ian gave Racz the third drink and quickly made himself scarce.

  Roux shot her a look. “Don’t you have a destination in mind? Dr. Racz mentioned something about a casting of the Virgin Mary. He said you seemed quite excited by the discovery. I thought surely you would know where we needed to go. I
only told Tamara and Jan that we would be leaving San Sebastián.”

  “We need to get to Kosice, Slovakia.”

  Roux raised his voice and spoke again in French, which Annja had been speaking, as well, even though she hadn’t thought about it. “Tamara, did you hear that?”

  “I did, sir. Jan will file a new flight plan once we’re airborne, which we should be in the next seven minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Roux returned his attention to Annja. “What are you expecting to find in Kosice?”

  “Father Janos Brankovic’s castings of the Virgin Mary.”

  Roux massaged his temple with his fingertips and gave that consideration. “As I recall, no one named Brankovic had anything to do with the statue of the Virgin Mary.”

  “No, but Brankovic supposedly made some preliminary castings of the statue after monks reported seeing the image of the Virgin Mary in György Dózsa’s ear as he lay dying. Brankovic was there at Dózsa’s execution and learned the stories.”

  “I’ve never heard that.”

  “You were around at that time.” Joan of Arc had died in 1431, forty years before Dózsa had been killed. And Roux had already been an old man by the time of Joan’s death. It was still odd, after all this time, thinking about Roux as a contemporary of so much history.

  Roux glanced at Racz, but the professor’s head had already lolled to one side in his seat. Swooping back into the cabin, Ian took the empty glass from Racz’s hands just as it started to fall.

  “Would either of you like anything else?” Ian asked as he looked at Roux and Annja.

  “I’m good,” Annja replied.

  “I’ll have another.” Roux handed over his glass and Ian went away. He focused back on Annja. “Garin and I were both around at that time. I wasn’t in Hungary then. I was...elsewhere.”

  “You? Not you and Garin?”

  “No.” Roux shifted in his seat and scowled. “After Joan’s death, we didn’t get along. I blamed him for our late arrival to save her, when truly I was the one to blame, but I took it out on him because he was supposed to keep my affairs in order. We parted ways shortly after that.”

  The way Roux and Garin refused to talk about their pasts was a constant source of frustration. They had both seen so much that she wanted to hear about.

  “The tale of the monks seeing the image of the Virgin Mary probably didn’t get around much,” Annja said, “but it’s there in the records. What’s not in most of those records is that a monk named Janos Brankovic, who was a cousin to Pal Kinizsi, was a sculptor who first attempted to make a statue to honor the Virgin Mary.”

  “Attempted?”

  “Brankovic died from the flu the winter after Dózsa’s death. However, the castings he made of the proposed statue still exist.”

  “And those castings are in Kosice?”

  “They are. In safekeeping with Brankovic’s family. While I was waiting for you, I called the family. Before we got chased out of the museum, I’d located the family in Kosice. I talked briefly with a woman named Denisa Cierny, a descendant of Brankovic’s family. She’s expecting to meet us tomorrow morning.” Annja sipped her water and swallowed to pop her ears as the jet gained altitude. “I’m just hoping we can beat Garin and de Cerceau there.”

  “Do you think Garin knows about Brankovic?”

  “I don’t know. The research is there.”

  “If he knows where to find it, and I assure you that there wasn’t much time. Whatever arrangement Garin fostered with the local police was stretched thin after the encounter escalated to bodies in the streets. He didn’t have time to look. He and those men with him were escorted from the museum. They may have even been arrested.”

  Annja hoped that was the case. “What about de Cerceau?”

  “I’ve received no word of him, other than the fact that he and his men had gotten into the museum through an underground tunnel.”

  “How long were they in there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “De Cerceau may know about Brankovic.”

  Roux waved that away. “If he did, I’m sure he would have gone there rather than pursue you. He wants the treasure, not you.”

  Annja knew that was true, but she still couldn’t help thinking about how the mercenary leader kept popping up.

  “I found the professor where you left him,” Roux said, “and I got him out of the museum without getting caught up by the local police. They turned quite antsy once gunfire and explosions became evident. I’m sure Garin is going to be caught up for some time explaining his situation there. And de Cerceau will be hard-pressed to find a way out of Spain in light of his activities. The police are actively seeking him.”

  “De Cerceau will find a way to follow us if he’s not captured.” Annja knew that was true, and she also realized that it was highly unlikely the mercenary would be caught.

  “Perhaps. However, for the moment, we are in the lead.”

  “I still don’t understand Garin’s interest in all of this.”

  “Nor do I.” Roux tapped the rim of his empty glass with a forefinger and rested his chin on his other hand. “However, I have to assume that his presence here is because of something personal.”

  “Why personal?”

  “Because he hasn’t reached out to you or me, of course. If Garin saw a way to make this mutually beneficial, he would, if for no other reason than to lessen the risk.”

  “Why would this be personal?”

  “One of my people did research on Sabre Race. As it turns out, he was once in Garin’s employ.”

  “Doing what?” Annja asked, though she thought she could figure that out for herself.

  “Pretty much what he is doing now.” Roux shifted in his seat. “He worked as a mercenary. Afterward, when Sabre Race decided to take leave of DragonTech, Garin helped the young man start his own business in Los Angeles.” He paused. “Which begs the question, was Garin involved in this thing from the beginning?”

  Annja shook her head. “No. Sabre Race was working for Steven Krauzer. Krauzer only wanted the elf witch’s crystal back.”

  Roux frowned. “You do realize how deplorable that sounds when you say it, right?”

  Ignoring the question, Annja concentrated on the bigger picture. “If Garin stepped in because of Sabre Race, he had to have done it after de Cerceau got the crystal. What do you think the chances are that Garin can trace us?”

  “Garin has many resources, and the world is an increasingly smaller place. I don’t think he will have too much of a problem locating us again. I’m sure he can trace this jet.” Roux dragged his fingers through his beard. “We could get rid of this aircraft and arrange for other transportation, but if Garin learns our ultimate destination, if we dally, he’ll just get ahead of us. I would rather risk him finding us than him getting ahead of us.”

  “I would, too.” Annja lay back against her seat and tried to relax but couldn’t. She set her drink aside and pulled out her tablet PC. Still, her mind wouldn’t leave the problem alone. “If it should come down to us versus Sabre Race, which way do you think Garin will go?”

  Roux shook his head. “I don’t know.” His gaze softened as he looked at Annja. “It’s better to let that sort itself out. If we can find the treasure before Garin does, we won’t have to worry about that.”

  32

  Early the next morning, with the sun still streaking the eastern horizon pink, Annja pulled the rented Porsche Cayenne Turbo S to a halt in front of a large stone house that squatted on a hill outside Kosice, Slovakia. At least, she assumed the vehicle was a rental. It had been waiting for them at the airport when they’d arrived the previous night. They’d spent the night in a bed-and-breakfast where the hostess knew Roux by name.

  Anticipation had threatened Annja with insomnia, and it st
ill thrummed inside her now. She always got that way in the final stages of a hunt, and she’d become certain this was the endgame. Thankfully, after trolling some of the alt.archaeology and alt.history sites she usually kept up with, she’d fallen asleep and had stayed that way until Roux had knocked on her door.

  The weather held enough of a chill that Annja could see her breath when she opened the Porsche’s door and stepped out. She wore a lightweight coat and tall boots. Spring was coming to Kosice, but winter maintained a jealous grip on the countryside.

  She checked the time on her sat phone and saw that it was only 7:18 a.m. local time. Denisa Cierny had confirmed that morning by telephone that she was an early riser, but Annja still felt guilty intruding so early.

  “Well?” Roux closed his door on the other side of the vehicle. He carried a straight cane in his right hand that Annja knew concealed a sword. He also carried at least two pistols.

  Annja looked at him.

  Imperiously, Roux pointed to the door with his cane. “Aren’t you going to see to the door? You’re the one who’s been invited.”

  “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?” Annja asked.

  Roux harrumphed as she passed. He’d been up talking with their hostess over breakfast that morning, and Annja wondered if he’d gotten any sleep. Although he hadn’t said so, she knew Roux was conflicted over Garin’s involvement in the hunt.

  When she’d first met them, after recovering Joan’s lost sword, Garin and Roux hadn’t seen each other in a long time and had still been hell-bent on killing each other. Annja knew since her arrival the enmity had taken a different turn, softened a little. Maybe it was because she was part of their lives now, or maybe it was because the sword was once more whole and back in the world, which changed things in ways they didn’t yet understand.

  Or maybe the sword’s return had been the opportunity to rekindle some of that old master-and-student relationship. She didn’t know, but she didn’t like the idea of Garin and Roux once more out for each other’s blood.