The Path of the Templar

by W. Peever

  He looked back at Charlie. "Will you listen to what I have to say in exchange for the Templar Order as an ally?"

  Charlie's friends released him and he scrambled to his feet. "I'm listening," said Charlie, still wary.

  "The scrolls that were found—the ones your great grandfather killed for, Colin—they detailed not only the Druids' charge to protect humanity, but directions on how to prevent the Vanir Gods from returning to Earth, should Odin lose the battle. The scroll instructed the Manserian to collect as much of their power as they could in ten crystals and place those crystals at points in space and time. The placement would create an energy field blocking the gateway between the Gods' dimension and that of the Nine Worlds."

  Silence sank among the four, thick like the mist beginning to rise in the darkness from the road. "Merlin knew all this and when Arthur betrayed him for the Vanari something inside him died. He loved that boy like a son, and he blamed the Gods for the evil consuming Arthur. He believed with all his heart that if he could seal the doorway between the Gods and Man that the Vanari would give up on their quest for power." The old man looked griefstricken as he gazed at Charlie. "We now know this was not the case. We need to release the Gods, let them take the power back from the Order, and let them decide what should happen to their children."

  Tillie was first to react. "If we open the door between their dimension and ours we'll be consumed by their civil war! The human race could be wiped from the face of the Earth," she spluttered.

  "I don't have all the answers…but knowing now what I do about the Vanari, I would not want them to control the portal. Nor would I want to see that power in the hands of the Order. You have some very difficult choices in front of you, young man." The old Templar folded his hands inside the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, and waited for a reply.

  When none came he continued. "As we speak, over a hundred Templar loyal to the seal of the Griffon are on their way to the castle where your friend is being held. If you can complete your quest and locate what our forefathers have hidden, I can convince even more of the Templar to join our cause with Colin as their general. Nevertheless, you haven't much time; there are others who are following you—I saw them a day or so ago. I'm not sure how they're tracking you. Perhaps Vali is using his seers to find you…but you must keep moving. If they catch you before you reach the end of the quest, there will be nothing I can do to help," the old man concluded.

  "Then we'd better hurry," said Charlie finally, getting to his feet. "You mentioned Spirit Pond in Maine."

  "Yes," the old man said, nodding his head. "Spirit Pond has always been one of the possible places for a clue to the markers that Henry Saint Clair left behind, but without the Astrolabe and the previous markers there was never any way to be certain. Now that you have a direction and distance I can tell you that you will need to find your way to Spirit Pond."

  He handed Colin a small purple crystal pulsing with energy. "This is a Qilting Crystal—programmed to take you to Spirit Pond."

  A sudden blinding red and blue explosion of light forced the old man and the children to shield their eyes. The old one turned to Colin, grabbing him tightly by the arm. "Protect the Jumper!—he is the last hope for humanity. Find the treasure, and give this emblem to the guard standing watch at our gates." Then he shoved a crystal into Colin's hand. "This will Qilt you all to the Castle when the time is right. Good luck." He pulled a giant broadsword from his belt and charged as well as he could toward the now open portal that was streaming with Vanari soldiers, led by a tall, muscled man in a black cloak that opened to reveal blue-flamed armor underneath.

  "Truth and Vengeance!" The old man yelled as he charged the soldiers. Their leader unclasped a giant metallic blue sword from his back—the red light from the portal outlined its jagged and deadly silhouette—and struck the old man down. Colin yelled out for vengeance for a fallen comrade, and it was Charlie's turn to hold him back until Tillie activated the crystal. Purple sparks surrounded them like billions of fireflies in the night, blocking the sound and light of the oncoming soldiers. And then they found themselves lying on a soft bed of pine needles in the pitch black of a forest. The trees were so tall they blotted out the moon's reflected light.

  Slowly, Charlie opened his eyes, straining to make out shapes in the darkness. None emerged from the absolute black of the night. He scrambled for his flashlight and found Mick and Colin unconscious on the forest floor about three meters away. Tillie was…nowhere to be seen. His brain whirled frantically for a reason why his head hurt so badly, why his friends were unconscious and why Tillie was…just gone. He rose to his feet, and traced the flashlight beam around the perimeter of its short range. In the pale light, he saw her, crumpled on the ground, her head…Charlie broke into a run. Low-lying branches tore through the soft skin of his face, drawing blood that Charlie ignored.

  Charlie reached Tillie's limp body, and her head submerged at the water's edge of a great lake. Summoning all his strength, he heaved her lifeless form into his arms and placed her on the soft bank. "Mick! Mick!" he called, a cold, prickly panic spreading over his skin. Mick didn't answer, still out cold. Charlie pinched Tillie's nose shut, took one more look over at Mick, and placed his lips around Tillie's. They were ice cold, not at all like the soft, warm lips he had imagined. He watched her chest rise, then he pressed down: one…two…three…

  Charlie checked for a pulse…nothing. Again, he went through the routine, and still nothing. The panic that began as a cold sweat was now a heart-pounding heat that consumed him. No…No! he thought, as he clung to his friend's frigid body. She was not going to die; he would not lose Bailey and Tillie.

  Two strong hands came from behind, gripping and pulling his body away. Mick was over Tillie's limp form, which was now bathed in the healing emerald light of Mick's staff. Charlie's ears strained to hear past the blood pounding behind his ears.

  "Were we in time, Mick?" Colin's voice was muted, as if shouting from behind a thick door.

  "Think so." Mick replied. "She's breathing on her own now…I think Charlie saved her there."

  Charlie's hearing returned to normal, and he nodded at Mick, his eyes returning to Tillie, who was beginning to stir.

  "Charlie?" Her voice was still weak, and it was with herculean effort that she spoke at all. "Charlie…" Tillie reached her hand out toward her best friend. "Why are you cuddling with Colin?" They all began to laugh, as Charlie crawled over to her side. "I could hear you, Charlie, through the darkness." Tillie grasped his hand.

  "He saved your life, Till," Mick reiterated.

  "I know," was her only reply as she gazed up into Charlie's eyes, dark green in the moonlit forest. The look would have gone on longer had Colin not knocked them back into reality.

  "Can you walk, Tillie?" Colin questioned. "Because if you can, we should get moving. That guy in the blue-flamed armor looked determined, and I personally don't want to be on the business end of that sword."

  Charlie steadied Tillie as she got to her feet, leaning against him as they staggered their way past the tree line to the moon-kissed water that was rippling and reflecting the light onto the surrounding trees. "It's beautiful," mused Tillie, clinging to Charlie's shoulder.

  Colin saw something altogether different in the dark water that separated them from the tiny island in the very center of the lake. "Tell me that the object we are searching for is actually around here and not on that island," Colin urged Charlie.

  "Spirit Pond? Some pond, eh?" joked Mick.

  Charlie took out the Astrolabe, vibrating only slightly as it did when they were near but not on top of the object it desired. The red arrow pointed to the island, and the odometer read five kilometers. Charlie closed the golden device and shrugged, "Yep, it looks like the object is a bit over a mile and a half towards the island…why?"

  "Just a feeling. Creatures lurk in waters like this," Colin said, looking from right to left along the bank of the lake. "We need to find a boat or raft, something—a
nything —that will keep us out of the water."

  "You're seriously freaking me out, mate," said Mick wearily. "What could possibly be lurking under the water of a…pond…in the middle of the Maine woods that's used for recreational swimming and fishing?"

  "Ever hear of the Loch Ness Monster?"

  "Old Nessie?" Mick laughed.

  Colin nodded. "She's just one of a family of Sea Serpents, who would love nothing more than to gobble us up. They can smell human flesh for miles underwater. Thor made one of them famous by dressing up like a woman and slaying the beast." Both boys looked at him for signs of insanity.

  "It's the truth! It was called the Midgard Serpent…or the Serpent of Earth, reportedly the size of a four-storey building at full stretch, looks like an oversized eel with teeth the size of Volkswagen beetles."

  "And you think that the Midgard Serpent is in Spirit Lake?" said Mick, still looking at Colin like he was out of his tree.

  "Lake or pond—I think they call it Spirit for a reason," Colin replied, starting to get agitated at being mocked. "You haven't seen stranger things in the past two days? Well, let's look for a boat and hope that I'm wrong."

  The others followed Colin down the beach in search of something big and strong enough to hold all of them yet light enough to keep them above water and out of reach of whatever might be in it.

  Chapter Eighteen Thor Wears a Dress

  It didn't take the foursome long to happen upon a fifteen-foot aluminum rowboat, complete with fishing tackle and, to Tillie's disgust, bait-worms crawling in the bottom.

  "You have to be kidding me!" Tillie cried in horror. "There are worms crawling all over that thing, and you expect me to just get in there?"

  Mick bent down and began to scoop out the worms, which wriggled through his fingers as he worked. Soon they were all eagerly digging their way back into the soft, moist soil of the lake bank. "There, no more creepy-crawlies to spoil your yachting entertainment—totally disregarding that there's a 50-foot eel with teeth the size of small cars waiting for us," Mick quipped.

  "Thanks," said Tillie. "Real comforting." The three boys began to push the surprisingly heavy aluminum skiff toward the water. "When we get close to the water, back away," Colin ordered. "No part of you can touch the lake. The Midgard Serpent hunts by smell; as long as no part of us touches the water we'll be safe."

  "If he hunts humans by smell, why aren't there reports of death by giant eel?" enquired Tillie, squirming.

  "Probably are," Colin countered. "I bet there've been "drownings" and "disappearances" in this lake for centuries. My guess is they call it Spirit Lake because of all the souls lost here in olden times. When a body does show up mutilated they blame it on local wildlife picking over the corpse. True, it's easier to do in the ocean with sharks, but I bet you'd be surprised what blarney people will believe instead of the fantastic. Lucky for them the Serpent only needs to eat once or twice a year."

  "Then why are we worried?" asked Charlie. "He probably took down the first swimmer earlier this summer."

  "You're forgetting the Golden Rule, mate." Colin reminded Charlie. "You're Manserian, one of the Guardians of the Nine Worlds. You know all about Serpents, Trolls and Giants and therefore we can see the serpent. The monsters of the Nine Worlds will kill us just because we can see them."

  "Best keep our feet out of the water then," agreed Charlie as they continued to push the boat which slipped quietly into the lake.

  "Ladies first," Colin said to Mick holding out his hand to assist him.

  "Bugger off," Mick replied, and jumped into the boat.

  "Watch your feet, Miss." Colin said as Tillie stepped forward.

  Charlie followed, and finally Colin, who shoved the boat as hard as he could through the sand and into the water before heaving himself over the side with splitsecond timing.

  As they drew closer to the island, Charlie thought he saw the ground move. He took a second, sharply-focused look. It is moving, he thought. "Guys…" Charlie whispered. "Look at the ground on the island—it's moving." Mick stopped rowing, and all peered at the oncoming island. Sure enough, the ground was twisting and swirling as if it was, itself, alive.

  "Mist!" exclaimed Colin. "This isn't good. Many, many nasty creatures live in the mist of the wilds. It's the perfect cover."

  "What kind of…" Tillie started, before Colin cut her off.

  "Best you don't know. Nothing we can do about it in any case. Just watch your footing. Should you feel anything soft hit your foot, stomp and kick as hard as you can. I once sent a gnome flying thirty yards."

  Mick continued to row toward the mist, though slower than before with a feeling of foreboding in the pits of their stomachs as they psyched themselves up to make landing. The island was small, about a football field across but in an almost perfect circle. The mist hovered a foot off the ground, and over it spindly old trees, long since dead, still stood vigil around the beachhead.

  "Looks more like a graveyard than an island in vacationland," observed Mick.

  "You might be closer than you think," said Colin. "Look toward the center over there, like the remains of an old house." They hit the shoreline with a bump and the skiff's hull scraped along the sand.

  "All ashore that's going ashore," Charlie quipped, giving Tillie second thoughts. He jumped over the bow, careful not to touch any part of the rippling water. He reached out for Tillie's hand, marveling at how delicate and soft it was.

  "What? I don't get a hand off this tin can?" Mick jeered at Charlie, before hopping off the boat, followed closely by Colin.

  "Listen up lads!" Colin hailed, his authoritative voice silencing Charlie and Mick, competing in a who-can-takethe-hardest-punch-in-the-shoulder game. "I do hate to break up your fun, but we have a job to do. And by the looks of it we don't have much time to do it in." Colin wagged his thumb aggressively to point over his shoulder at bright orange lights that hovered over the distant shoreline.

  "Elementalists' torches," Charlie whispered under his breath. He remembered Professor Grayson conjuring them out of thin air to light the way in the dark cave back in Scotland. "They're here."

  "It means we need to hurry, and that's all," Colin offered. "I'm going to check the tree line. Tillie, you go invisible and check the shoreline; Charlie and Mick, the old house."

  "And why is it that I need a babysitter?" Charlie asked indignantly.

  "Because I promised my father I'd keep you safe, mate. And I take Templar oaths very seriously."

  "Besides, I would not leave your side even if he asked me to." Mick added, "Not with those Vanari on the opposite shore. Do you reckon they have any idea that the Midgard Serpent lives here, Colin?"

  "If they have any sense at all it's crossed their minds. Let's hope the Serpent takes some of them out," said Colin, winking at the huge 12-year-old who had an unkempt look but the bounding strength reminiscent of a Great Pyrenees mountain dog combined with the heroic, protective instincts of a Saint Bernard. "Right now we need to focus on finding the next clue. Does the Astrolabe say we should go in any particular direction now, Charlie?"

  Mick's much smaller best friend repositioned the golden locket in his hand and opened its encasement to find the arrow slowly spinning circles around the runes. Charlie shook his head. "We're too close to give a direction. At least that confirms we're right on top of it."

  Tillie smiled and waved at Charlie before turning invisible. She began to walk around the perimeter of the island, leaving shallow footfalls in the sand. Colin laughed at the ghostly remnants, then jogged off toward the gnarled husks of what were trees, tendrils of mist wrapping around his waist.

  In a deliberate role reversal of master to bodyguard, Charlie bowed and extended his hand toward the ruined house. "Après vous," he said in a laughable French accent.

  "Shut up, Charlie," Mick said, checking Charlie with his shoulder. The two began their walk to the rundown house.

  "Ah," Charlie muttered, motioning to his now visibly vibrating pocket.
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  "Do you think it's safe to go inside, mate?"

  "It's not like we have a choice, Mick. Safe or not, the next clue is hidden inside."

  "Really?" Mick took a long look at the collapsing twostorey house. The good news was the house was still standing, but by what miracle? Mick was stumped. Longdead vines and brittle tree limbs had long ago peeled the wooden planking from one side of the house. Windows were now dark entrances for whatever animals made this old dwelling their home. The roof had collapsed on one side, making the whole house list, threatening to give in to its weight at any moment: a house right out of a nightmare, where things with pointy teeth and a thirst for the wet warmth of blood would find a happy home.

  "Do you really believe the Templar would have left our clue in this dilapidated old thing?" Mick asked again.

  Charlie shrugged. "Probably wasn't dilapidated when they left it…I don't want to go in any more than you, but we need to find the next clue…"

  Mick shook his head and slammed his staff on the ground. The crystal at the tip responded by emitting an intense green light, illuminating the room as they entered. The old wooden floor timbers, long retired from their duty of supporting human weight, groaned in protest at the trespassers who carefully planted their feet on them. The first floor was one room comprising a cooking hearth and what looked like a sleeping space. Furniture—what was left of it—was covered in dust, old leaves and mouse droppings. Mick and Charlie picked their spots to step in.

  "We need to check everything, under that bed over there—the whole floor, Mick. Let's hope we find something 'cause there's no way of getting to the second floor." Charlie looked at a pile of wood once a staircase, now no more than shelter for small, crawling creatures.

  Mick walked to the kitchen area, and Charlie began to explore the bedroom. The old bed had a rat-gnawed straw mattress that at one time had been laced together with what looked like animal hide.