The Path of the Templar

by W. Peever

  "Mick, this bed looks like something I saw in a museum in Salem! This house is early colonial, maybe beginning of the 1600s even!"

  Mick nodded his agreement. "The kitchenware is all cast iron, even the way the hearth was set up. It's old, mate, definitely old."

  Charlie pushed aside cobwebs on cobwebs amid pieces of the ceiling, and found a bedside set of dressers. The handles had rusted away to nothing in the moist air, the drawers swelled shut—daring him all the more. Everyone he knew kept important things in their bedside tables: his mother the picture of his father; Bailey her diary in the top drawer; even Charlie what little pocket money he had. Charlie drew Excalibur from its sheath and slipped it in the slit of a drawer opening, thinking to pry it wide. Instead, the brittle wood snapped and the whole side of the drawer came away.

  He peered inside—nothing was moving, always a happy first impression. Now he reached in, fingers searching until they grasped two books. Charlie examined his findings: first a rat-chewed old Bible, which he put on top of the table; second, wrapped in sheepskin, a book with its leather binding still intact. He broke the weathered straps and unwrapped it to see the gold emblem of the Templar imprinted on the cover.

  Charlie looked around for his friend, who was puttering around a cabinet near the kitchen hearth. "Mick, get over here! I found something, but I need some light."

  Mick hurried over, and flashed a green glow to illuminate the book. Charlie carefully opened the first page, which read:

  Sebastian Lochwater

  IHCV

  "Look!" Charlie exclaimed. "IHCV. Hoc Signo Crucis Vinces! By this sign you shall conquer! This must be his journal."

  "Flip to the last entry. Something must have happened here—maybe he had to hide the next clue."

  Charlie skimmed through the pages, careful not to miss anything on the way, until he got halfway through and the pages turned blank. Turning back a few, he found the last entry.

  17th December 1596 I buried William today next to my wife and daughter. I had hoped that this plague would have spared my brother, for now I fear the red blotches announcing the beginning of the end have found purchase on my chest and neck. I too must leave this earth, to join my brothers and sisters in Gimlee. We have not had communication with our brothers to the south, and I fear the worst for the other protectors of the Path. My last hope for this world is they will come looking for us once the winter has made the roads passable and this journal finds them. I shall now row across the lake, yielding to the earth my corporeal form. Do not mourn my loss, as I only do what we all must.

  Preserve the Path at all costs.

  Hoc Signo Crucis Vinces "That was his last entry," Charlie said, looking back up at his friend. "After that it's blank. He says nothing about the next clue; just, Preserve the Path."

  "Hell of a lot that tells us," spat Mick in frustration. "He tells everyone to preserve the Path while it looks like the only surviving Templar family died last week at the hands of the Vanari. The Path died, and we were lucky to get this far." He kicked the leg of an old table, causing the entire thing to crash in a cloud of dust.

  "I don't believe it," countered his companion. "Why would he go to so much trouble only to die? He must have hidden the clue somewhere…otherwise, it just doesn't make any sense."

  Mick looked up from the dust pile that moments before had been a table. Something tugged at his memory. "Charlie…there were four gravestones on the right side of the house."

  "I saw them," Charlie responded.

  "But the man wrote that he buried three people…" "So what? His wife, daughter, brother and then the

  author himself died and were buried." Mick was smiling now and added a bobble head nod. "So four people died, and four people were buried…no, four died and three were buried," Mick offered. "Sebastian walked out into the woods, never to be seen again."

  Charlie looked up at Mick, the realization hitting him like a thunderbolt. The author knew he was going to die…he buried his family…no one was going to be left to carry the next clue. Charlie nodded, and smiled.

  "He buried the clue in the graveyard!" They gushed out at the same time, and ran out the front door right into the others.

  Colin looked grave. "The Vanari have found boats. They're halfway here…anything? Or still playing around?"

  "Not exactly," said Mick, swelling a little with pride. "We know where it is."

  All four ran to the side of the house where the headstones stood eternal vigil.

  "The gravestones," Mick told the others. "Look at the Lochwaters, mainly Sebastian."

  Tillie sighed sadly. "Rebecca Lochwater…nine years old." The names of wife Pam and brother Harmon were next to the last grave—that bore the name Sebastian Lochwater.

  "I hope we're right about this, Charlie," Mick said, his face a bit peeked.

  "We are," Charlie said, pulling a dagger from his belt. "He didn't bury himself, and he said in his journal he'd walk off to certain death in the woods. He must have buried the next clue in this one, and marked it with his name."

  Charlie knelt down on the soft ground, churning mist billowing to reveal a rich green moss covering the grave. He plunged the dagger into the earth and began to excavate the grave site. Mick, too, fell to his knees, followed by Colin and a reluctant Tillie. The first foot was the worst to get through, thickly entangled roots from old growth. Once through this crust, a soft clay was easier. Increasingly worried as they grubbed several more feet down, having to expand out wide until it looked like a bomb crater, Colin hit something solid at about four feet down.

  "Sounds like metal!—maybe."

  Clawing with their fingers, they uncovered a mailboxsized chest and slowly lifted it out of its four-hundred-yearold home and rested it above ground in the swirling mist. The chest was rather rusted but for its gold trim still virtually pristine.

  "No lock," noted Colin.

  "Maybe saw no need for one," Charlie said. "This clue was left for someone who knew about the Path; anyone else who found it would just think it an old relic and take it to a museum."

  "Either way, what good would a lock do?" Tillie chimed in impatiently. "Let's hurry."

  Colin shrugged. "Yeah, open it up, mate."

  Charlie used his dagger to pry open the lid, revealing two rocks within. He lifted them out and smiled to the others. "Look, they're covered in runes."

  "I recognize the map on the back of this one," said Colin. "Look, here this lake meets the ocean. And that… oh…" He stopped and looked out at the still water of the lake.

  "Colin?" Tillie asked with a worried look mirroring Colin's.

  "These runes here…" he said, pointing. "They say 'the foamy arms of Aegir, angry god of the sea.'"

  "So?" Mick couldn't help looking bemused. "What does that mean to us? I mean, all the Gods are in exile."

  "True, but they were in exile when these stones were made, and it's not the God I'm concerned about—it's his pet Serpent," Colin said with emphasis, hoping to make his friends focus on the dangers all around them.

  "You mean…" Charlie choked out.

  "I mean this proves the Midgard Serpent did make Spirit Lake his home. And there's those fifty men rowing at us right now." Colin said, his eyes wide and all senses alert.

  "Then finish fast so we can get out of here," said Tillie.

  Colin turned to the rock a moment more. "Oh… gibberish! Where the best fishing is…a great journey by sea…nothing that…wait. Look here, after the hooked X a set of engraved runes. Charlie, give it a try."

  The Jumper took the violently energized Astrolabe from his pocket, opened it and put the new runes into place. The group gave a collective sigh of relief as the arrow stopped spinning and pointed; the odometer reset to zero and then clicked forward to read three hundred and six kilometers. "Well, it worked—our last clue is about a hundred and ninety miles west of here."

  "An obfuscation," Tillie explained, "so that no one looked too deeply into the runes we needed. If you didn't kno
w the hooked X began the runic pattern you wouldn't be able to use any of them. Brilliant, really."

  "Absolutely brilliant," said the gravelly voice of the man in black. "And very helpful if you ask me." The Vanari were here.

  Chapter Nineteen Double, Double, Boil and Trouble

  The tall, muscled form of Vali's new henchman emerged from the shadows of the trees, while still other shapeless forms moved in the darkness behind him.

  "Impressive spot your forefathers picked here, Colin, my boy—impressive spot. Did you know you cannot map or Qilt this island? There is only one way to it—by boat. Well done indeed, and then to bury the clue in a grave." The man in black began clapping mockingly. "Consecrated ground, no less, protecting the clue for eternity. Well planned."

  He continued his ironic, slow applause as he closed the distance between them. "You've done very well, keeping a step ahead of my most gifted Seers, and detecting a path dead for centuries. Lord Vali will be so impressed…pity he has ordered your death."

  Pride flushed through Charlie, because they had done well, and it was not over yet.

  "Your little girlfriend would be so proud," the dark figure continued, "if only she was here to share in your glory." Placing his hand on his elegant goatee in a wellrehearsed gesture, he went for the coup de grace. "Then again, perhaps she could join us."

  He gestured to the side while keeping eye contact with Charlie—he didn't want to miss a single nuance of torment in the boy's expression. A similarly clad, smaller figure came from the shadows to the dark apprentice's side, head bent and hood completely concealing the face. "Don't be shy, love—show them your face. Let realization wash over them as history repeats." Slowly, the hood moved. "Again, we see the Relling Family always betrays the Burrows'."

  The barely recognizable face of their lost friend Bailey emerged from the cloak, sunken and angular, and violently colored. Black and violet eye shadow covered her face in flames. Her blood-red lips curled into a bloodcurdling smile as Charlie—her oldest, dearest friend— watched disbelieving.

  "Ah yes." The nameless man smirked and sighed with delight. "They are beginning to know what betrayal is."

  Bailey turned her smile up to him, moving close to her new master and taking his hand. "Let me speed the process of comprehension for you. Bailey, as you know her —knew her—has chosen of her free will to join us. It is her hope that you will follow her lead. Your father was given this choice but left his wife and son in poverty. Will you make the same mistake, Charlie? Will you leave your best friend and your mother alone in the world? If you join us, you can be with Bailey and see your mother whenever you wish. We would tell her about the Order and the Gods, as I know what the strain of lying to her is doing to you." Charlie shot a sharp glance at Bailey. The words cut through him like a rock hitting glass. Bailey looked up into her master's dark eyes as he nodded assent, then she glided over to Charlie and smiled, first gruesomely, then surprisingly friendly.

  "Charlie," she said, "sometimes the choices you are meant to make are not the ones you first set out to accomplish." She squeezed his shoulders, hard…very hard until her nails dug into him. Charlie forced himself to look into her ravaged face—no longer the Bailey he knew. Their eyes connected, and she bore a message home to him and then smiled. In a final gesture, she tossed her…pony tail.

  "Do you like it, Charlie? I think it is so me. You know how I've always loved putting my hair back in a ponytail. The purple streaks just complete the package."

  In a lightning bolt, he realized what Bailey was telling him. She hated ponytails. She would never wear one. He knew all at once that everything, including Bailey, was worth fighting for again. Charlie stood tall, squared his shoulders, looked the heavily muscled man right in the eye and drew Excalibur. Fifty of Vali's best men emerged from the shadows.

  "Call off your guard! I mean to pledge myself to your cause." Three loud gasps came from his friends behind him. There was no way to explain to them—they would have to catch up. Slowly, Charlie backed up towards the lake twenty feet from the graveyard, a risky plan forming with each step.

  "My lord, please! Your men make me nervous," Charlie pleaded.

  "The only reason they should make you nervous, my boy, is if your words are not true. Are you, or are you not, joining with the Vanari?"

  Charlie continued to back towards the lake.

  "What are you doing, boy?"

  It was only a matter of time, but Charlie was now steps from the water's edge and looking at Mick, at Colin and finally at Tillie. An understanding passed between them, and fear filled Tillie's eyes for what her friend was about to do. Charlie turned to Mick for just a moment, and screamed, "Save Bailey!" Then he plunged into the icy depths of the lake. The water surrounding the beach instantly began churning as Charlie struggled to get back on land, hoping beyond hope that his plan would work: the sleeping Serpent would chase its pray onto the island and find a buffet of Vanari waiting for it.

  On shore, Mick was firing great bolts of green lightning at the oncoming horde. Tillie was releasing arrows like a cornered porcupine. And Colin was slicing and dicing his way toward Bailey. By the time Charlie made it to shore the water was boiling. Excalibur in hand, he rushed into the fray, followed closely by an explosion of scalding water.

  The Midgard Serpent was easily six stories high, and did have teeth the size of Volkswagens, but not the beetle— more the size of a hippy bus. There was a deafening crash as the great beast came on shore, followed by a bloodcurdling cry as it devoured its first victim.

  The Vanari attack turned from the five travelers to this great beast of legend. Charlie's sprint turned into a blood-pumping race against death as he tore up the sandy embankment to Bailey. They embraced, and Bailey wept in Charlie's arms for a moment, Mick and Colin with their weapons poised to defend them.

  "Sorry to break this up, you two," said Colin behind grinding teeth, "but we need to get the hell out of here."

  The dark-cloaked Vali raised his cane in the air, spouting red sparks, immediately answered by a roar from the forest as a thousand armored men and women came thundering out of the island's misty shadows.

  "Did you really believe I would let you slip through my fingers again? I'm afraid my lord and master would never forgive me." He turned to his new force. "Kill the girls, the Guardian and the Templar, but keep the Jumper alive! With or without his liking he will help us. We know where we need to go—now all we need is the boy's power."

  The armored knight who, until now, had lurked in the shadows, came forward and pointed his flamed, forked sword at the children. With a fearsome roar, the second army charged the field.

  "It doesn't matter, Charlie," said Bailey, grabbing his chin with her soft hand. "We die together."

  "No!" shouted Colin, his sword held high. "The Jumper must live—everything depends on it. We must survive long enough for Charlie to jump to another dimension."

  Tillie, too, was staunch. "You don't have the strength left to take us all, Charlie—it would kill you. Just save yourself—it's all we want. The Order needs you, so don't let our blood be wasted."

  Mick knocked him on the shoulder, and said nothing as they looked each other in the eye. The ground was trembling now under the oncoming horde as Mick raised his staff, glowing emerald in the darkness.

  Colin nodded at Charlie. "Start turning those dials on that ring, mate! Do it now." Then he raised his sword high in the air. "For the Order!" he cried…and charged.

  Charlie had no moment to think, but there was nothing to decide. Excalibur was in his hands, and he charged with his friends. At least, if he died, the chance of Lord Vali getting the crystals died too. Charlie and Mick had barely exchanged a look and nod of understanding before they were blown backwards by a blast of air. Three giant eagles, wingspans the width of a 747, had landed between them and the oncoming army—that was now falling, struck by what looked like arrows from above. Charlie gazed skyward, at a hundred of these eagles soaring high above and launching
a barrage of flaming arrows down on the Vanari. Their tortured screams were silenced only by death.

  "The Vola," Colin said under his breath.

  "The who?" asked a still-frightened Bailey.

  "The Vola—they must be. The witches of the woods", explained Colin. "The stories my grandfather told me sounded so…but my Gods, look at the size of their transports!"

  "Witches?" Mick echoed, a little warily.

  "What made them come?" Tillie asked, gripping her dagger with white knuckles.

  "They knew we were in trouble—I assume," answered Colin. "Back in the time of the Gods, the Druids and the peoples of the Nine Kingdoms made an alliance. I had no idea anyone still honored it, and no man has seen a Vola since the Gods departed. They keep to themselves, mainly herbalists and wardens over the woods, making things grow."

  Five eagles, each with a Vola rider on its back, descended over them, and the great birds' talons clutched the children with unexpected tenderness, lifting them high in the air.

  The frustrated dark lord screamed with fury as his army was decimated by the surprise attack. Charlie could barely make out the words as they rose into the cloud embankment: "You haven't reached the end yet, Burrows!"

  The frosty dew of the clouds made Charlie's face tingle as they flew through the night sky. They soared over the lake, over the forest, and finally over the mountains that only minutes before had stood vigil on the horizon. After hundreds of miles they now seemed to be landing on the crest of the tallest mountain peak of the range. As they drew closer Charlie saw that the land was barren, the tree line nonexistent. Yet something—eight or nine brown shapes—stood out in silhouette. As they grew closer Charlie could see that they moved. Wolves? The electric shock of panic struck him in the stomach and sent his body into a cold sweat—nine massive wolves the size of horses headed straight for their landing space!

  Charlie twisted back and forth struggling to grasp Excalibur. But the eagle's talons just held him tighter. Then a voice inside his head spoke to him.