The Path of the Templar

by W. Peever

  The walls had been inlaid with brick and mortar hundreds of years before, but cold Canadian winters, disuse and disrepair had taken their toll. The five travelers tripped over broken bricks and minor cave-ins as they crept down the now winding staircase. Their downward journey gradually leveled off, and they came to a small square chamber that appeared to have been chiseled out of the mountain itself. In the center of the room was a sarcophagus.

  Charlie walked over to the stone entombment, and ran his hands over the cool granite. His final resting place, he thought. Charlie's fingers found the circular etching in the center. "Here's something!" he shouted. His friends' flashlights lit up the spot he was touching.

  "It almost looks like…" Bailey started, cut off by a flying swat to the ribs as Charlie rummaged roughly through his bag to retrieve the Astrolabe.

  "Sorry," Charlie said, looking vainly for a safe place on Bailey to pat it better: an act sharply noted by Tillie, who crossed her arms half indignant and half self-protectively, over her heart. Tillie had not digested the array of feelings she had for Charlie; they were not like the feelings she had when she flirted with a boy to get her books carried or to be taken to a free movie. What she felt for Charlie was different, all consuming, wonderful and stomach-deadening at the same time.

  Charlie opened the golden device, its silver dials chasing the red arrow in a hopeless race with no end. "The Vola I rode with told me the Astrolabe would do the rest. I'll put it on these circular grooves."

  Colin nodded agreement. "It's the end of the trail and I don't see Templar treasure scattered around, so let's hope this is some sort of key."

  Charlie glanced first at his friends—they had all been through so much together—then, back at the device. He lowered the Astrolabe onto the table, and felt the arrows spinning faster the closer they got to the stone. There was a click as metal and rock made contact and then a crunching sound of crumpling tin as the arrows plunged into the stone under them. The Astrolabe was forever still—never again to guide anyone to this secret chamber. Suddenly the apparatus burned red hot under Charlie's fingers, causing him to jerk his hand away, again hitting Bailey in the chest.

  If you're going to cop a feel a second time, at least use some imagination to vary your technique, Tillie thought, growing angry at…she wasn't sure who.

  "Sorry, Bailey."

  And at least be gallant enough not to apologize, Tillie fumed.

  But Bailey was engrossed in the sight before them. The Astrolabe, always the color of pure gold, was glowing orange and radiating heat as it began to melt into the chiseled grooves of the tomb. The ruby-red molten metal flowed all around the sarcophagus, signing a pattern they had failed to see before.

  "Turn off your flashlights!" Colin cried out. "The pattern…it's the shield and crown of the Templar. This is it! This is really it!" The room began to shake and the sarcophagus broke in half, each side falling away to reveal a staircase hidden beneath.

  "Of course, we have to go further down into the earth," Tillie said in frustration. "It's not as if the foulest creatures live in dark, dingy places or anything!"

  "Whatever's down there's probably safer than what'll be waiting for us when we come back," warned Mick. "By now Vali's seers must have located us, like the Vola said. All they have to do is wait for us to come out."

  "Charlie," Tillie pleaded, "Can't you just jump us all out of here? Or maybe, once we have the information, take us back in time?"

  "Even if I jump us to another dimension we would need to return here when we jumped back. They'd still be waiting—not to mention, Colin couldn't come."

  "You guys travel through time?" Colin blurted out.

  "Long story, mate," Mick replied, trying to stop his chest from puffing out.

  "I'll bet," Colin smirked. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves—we'll deal with Vali when we need to. Right now, let's follow the white rabbit."

  Colin turned his flashlight to the rather short descent. As they reached the bottom he found what appeared to be…

  "No way," he said and reached for a lever on the wall.

  "What is it?" Mick asked.

  "This," Colin replied, and pulled the lever. All around them came a swarm of loudly buzzing bees.

  "What the heck did you do, mess with a hornets' nest? Let's get out of here!" Mick shouted angrily.

  "Wait," Colin replied, turning off his flashlight.

  "What's going on?" asked Bailey, who was flashing her light all around searching for the oncoming swarm.

  "Wait for it," was his only reply as the angry buzzing became a steady hum and the room began to brighten.

  "No way!" said Mick and Charlie at the same time. "This hole must have been dug out centuries before electricity was discovered!" Charlie said with amazement as the lightened room revealed a treasure that he could hardly describe. Golden coins and ornaments and silver jewelencrusted artifacts reflected the light from above.

  Colin patted him on the back. "Those who collected this treasure were no mere mortals, Charlie. They were Templar! They knew how to harness electric power a long time before Ben Franklin claimed it with that tall story about the key and kite in a thunderstorm," Colin laughed. "Treasures from all over the world are here."

  The five separated, each drawn to the piece of history that spoke to them. Bailey pored carefully over a pile of scrolls, some biblical, others handcrafted poems and stories on parchment. "These texts are written on papyrus scrolls…even older…I think they're from the Library of Alexandria!

  "I think they are the library of Alexandria," Colin told her. "My father once told me that most of the scrolls were rescued from the library by Julius Caesar himself when he accidentally set the building ablaze. Then the scrolls disappeared from history. My father always believed that the scrolls were found and saved by the Templar a thousand years later. I thought it was wishful thinking—a thousand years is a long time for something to be lost and still survive intact.

  "Beowulf!" Bailey cried. "This is the original text of Beowulf!"

  "I didn't know you read ancient Anglo-Saxon, Bailey," Charlie teased.

  "Just the first line…remember that crazy teacher we had in fourth grade?—made us memorize the first five lines of Beowulf and the Odyssey!"

  "Well, I found Cleopatra's comb," said Tillie, who was brushing her hair with the most ornate silver comb any of them had ever seen. The hilt was a giant blood-red ruby polished smooth. "I once read that she'd comb her hair one hundred times a night, and it would bring her visions of the future. She was a Seer, you know."

  "Tell us, Tillie," said Mick with a smile, "what color underpants is Charlie wearing?" They were too busy to laugh, gazing in wonder at the Greek pillars, richly embossed swords and shields of fallen heroes. Charlie strode over to the center of the room, where lifted above the rest of the priceless items sat a giant wooden chest.

  "The chest," Charlie whispered. It was huge, three feet wide and at least two feet tall, looking like he had always fantasized a pirates' treasure chest would. With a quick intake of breath, he unlatched the cover and opened the lid. Here was what they had been pursuing for the past month. Inside the dark, dusty chest rested twenty or thirty thin shingles of rock, all covered in glyphs, runes and…

  "Goidelic," Charlie whispered, and then louder, "It must be Goidelic. Look, some of the runes match those on my ring. This is the missing language! We did it!" Charlie, in reflex, grabbed the person nearest—Mick—and hugged him tight. His big friend turned red in protest.

  "Charlie," Bailey said as she pried them apart. "Mick's not your teddy bear that you pretend not to still sleep with, so stop substituting him for it!" Charlie shook his head and rolled his eyes at Mick as if to say, She's crazy. "Second, you failed French twice—languages aren't your strong suit. How do you expect to memorize this new language in the time we have?"

  Bailey was right. They had the foundation of the Tower of Babel in front of them and there was no way to take it with them.

 
"Have we come all this way for nothing?" Charlie lamented.

  "Grave rubbings," Tillie said, almost at a whisper. "We could…let me see that parchment you're stealing, Bailey," she said, holding her hand out. "You know, the old paper you have sticking out of your backpack."

  "I would hardly call it stealing," Bailey retorted. "I mean, we found it abandoned for over five hundred years."

  "Whatever helps you sleep at night," Tillie responded with a smile. "Please hand me one of your manuscripts." Bailey handed one of the brittle old parchment rolls to Tillie. "Great, and Colin, do you still have those red candles you purchased at the home depot? You're such a good boy scout—now hand them over."

  Colin handed her his backpack and Tillie took the candles out, unrolled the parchment and approached the chest.

  "Tillie, I'm not sure I like where this is heading," Charlie said. "You know: candle—tinder-dry, five-hundredyear-old paper."

  "Trust me, Charlie," she soothed. Tillie retrieved one of the tablets she'd placed on the ground. Then, covering it with the blank side of the parchment facing her, she began to gently rub the red candlestick on the paper. The red wax covered the paper like a kindergartner would with a crayon, except…

  "Look," Charlie said, pointing. "The runes, the translation—everyplace the rock's grooved is imprinting on the paper in white. You're a genius, Tillie!" he said, hugging her like a teddy bear. She flushed with that feeling she couldn't control when she was around him, and then in embarrassment elbowed him off her. "Stop it, will you," Tillie said, a smile lingering around her lips. "I need to finish, and there are, like, thirty more of these. So if you guys could get more paper and help the work would go by a whole heck of a lot faster."

  The boys, at least, jumped to it and soon they had all the slate tablets copied on to the lost scrolls of Alexandria. "My dad's going to kill me for this," worried Colin, as he attached a leather binding strip to the last of the scrolls. "These are relics that should be treated with rubber gloves in temperature-controlled rooms. Instead, we're rubbing candle wax all over them." Colin glanced down at one of the scrolls in his hands. His eyes grew large and his jaw went slack. Unintelligible sounds reverberated in his throat as he continued to stare at the scroll.

  "Colin, mate? What's wrong?"

  "This…my Gods." Colin sat down on the floor. "Did you check to see what scrolls you took, Bailey? Did you even look?"

  Bailey's face was white, and her stomach lurched with that 'I'm in trouble,' spiky lead-ball feeling. "Sort of," she replied defensively. "It's in Latin and Greek, two languages I don't speak."

  Colin shook his head in disgust at himself as much as anyone. "This is…" He held the parchment above his head. "It's Plato's lost work of Critias—thought to be never finished."

  "So?" said Charlie, coming to his best friend's defense. "One less long reading we need to do in history class."

  "No, Charlie!" Colin shouted. "Don't you get it! He talked about the Lost City of Atlantis in Critias. It was said Plato knew the location of the sunken island! It's the location of the Orb!"

  "The Orb?" Charlie echoed, exposing his ignorance while raising eyebrows as if to ask if the story became even more cliché. "What does it do?"

  "That's the thing no one knows…and we may have compromised the entire find with candle wax! My dad…"

  "Your dad might have to wait in line, Colin," Tillie interrupted matter-of-factly. "I just had a vision…the Vanari are here."

  Chapter Twenty-One Allies

  A chill fell around the already damp passageway as the words left Tillie's mouth. They had come this far; had beaten back trolls; the legendary Midgard Serpent; eluded Vali's men, not once, but twice—a feat not many full-grown Manserian could do. Now in this dimly lit burial chamber they realized their time was up. The entrance—and exit—to this lost treasure room was only wide enough for one of them. The Vanari could pick them off one by one. A rumbling from above like ten thousand charging elephants shook the walls around them, sending roots, dirt and broken bricks on to their heads.

  "They plan to bury us alive if we don't go out, Charlie." Tillie grasped his arm with one hand and her bow with the other. Charlie realized in embarrassment she wasn't looking for his protection; rather, she was protecting him.

  It took him off guard, as he looked round at his other friends. Mick gave Charlie a meaningful look.

  "No way! No way, Mick. You already know the answer to that."

  "They're going to kill us anyway, Charlie. At least this way you and the tablets will be safe." A resolute sadness settled on Mick's face.

  "I'm not leaving anyone to die. What kind of life would that be for me?"

  "Stop being so selfish, Charlie," said Bailey speaking up. "This isn't about you. When I was kidnapped I knew you would be safe. You're the important one, Charlie. You're the one who can save our parents, the Manserian… heck, the whole Nine Worlds! This is bigger than you, me, Mick, Colin and Tillie. You have to save yourself for the bigger picture."

  "I don't care about the big picture. What kind of world would I be saving if I had to sacrifice the best parts of it? This world would never be whole. It would never be pure, and…no—it goes beyond all of us. Everything we've learned so far points to another great war—a war that we'll need the best from all of us to win. Without Colin we won't have the Templar; Tillie, the unique gift of invisibility— even Joelle said it was one of a kind. Imagine the advantages we have. Mick, you're the bravest person I could ever ask for, and when I collect the crystals I'll need you to watch my back. And Bailey…" Charlie took in a deep breath. "Do you really think the rest of us can fight Vali, save our dads, and reestablish the alliances of the Nine Worlds without you?"

  "You have a point—you're a bit pathetic alone." Bailey admonished with a smile as she embraced him.

  "Yeah?" Charlie said smiling back wryly, digging Bailey in the side. "Well, we're invincible together. If we can't get out of this as a whole team the world's lost anyway. There just has to be another way out of here."

  "Greek Fire…" Colin said under his breath.

  "Huh?"

  "Greek Fire!" Colin shot back, and ran back to the treasure chest of scrolls. "An awesome Elementalist fireball —it was said it could even burn soil: a super-hot fire. The recipe was lost when the Romans sacked Greece, but it was thought a master copy was in the Library of Alexandria."

  "But none of us have that power. How is this going to help us?" Bailey sat down, exasperated.

  "That's what's so special about this fire; it was designed by a famous alchemist-Elementalist to sack Troy. The fire ate through the very rock walls of the city! The kicker is that it could be used by non-Elementalists! We could blow a hole in the entrance making it big enough for us to charge out together."

  "A fighting chance! That's all I want." Mick said with a nod.

  "You've got me convinced, Colin," said Charlie. "What are we looking for?"

  "An oversized letter A with a circle around it; the modern usage is for anarchy, but back in the time of Ancient Greece it was the alchemist Aorist's personal symbol." Colin spoke with a preoccupied air, frantically rummaging through the scrolls.

  "You mean like this," said Tillie, her hand on a huge clay jar with a red, circled A painted on its side.

  "My Gods!" Colin gasped. "They actually kept a jar of the fire?"

  "By the looks of it, mate," said Mick, "they kept around fifty of them." He motioned to the back of the room where other jars stood side by side like soldiers ready for war.

  Even for the five of them moving the single jar of Greek Fire to the tunnel's entrance was an arduous job. The bright light of day stung their eyes as they lodged the bomb where it would do most damage.

  "Are you sure one will do it?" Charlie asked Colin, gazing at the massive, primitive firecracker.

  "I'm not even sure we should be touching one of these things. It might cave in this entire place, and then it will really be a tomb." Colin spoke, in such a way that Charlie wasn't s
ure if he was kidding.

  The roar from the entrance was intense, but sounded strangely mechanical. But why would the Vanari be using human machines? Charlie thought to himself as Colin wrapped the spear he'd use to ignite the pot with an oil-doused rag. Something wasn't right. The noise outside…Lord Vali of the Vanari would've called out to him by now in his sickening way, giving him a choice of life or death. The man loved the sound of his own corrupt, evil voice.

  "Tillie! Did you actually see Vali or any of the Vanari from before?"

  "No, just a cloud of brown smoke or dust, and a loud roaring noise that seemed to be coming from the path we took up the mountain. Then there were loud pops all around the forest that sounded like hundreds of Manserian Qilting at once. At least…I assumed it was the Vanari seeing no one from the Order would have any idea where we are."

  "Maybe not," said Charlie, his thoughts returning to the beautiful Vola who had told him about the Dwarves. "That roar—could it have been motorcycles?"

  "Maybe…" replied Tillie gingerly.

  "Dwarves ride motorcycles," said Charlie with a quiet smile of hope. "If the Vola did make contact with the Dwarves as she said she would try to…"

  "Then the noise isn't the Vanari—but a biker gang of Dwarves?" Bailey chimed in.

  "Only one way to find out," said Charlie. He turned to smile at Tillie.

  "Be right back," she said with a wink, and then vanished from sight. Seconds later she was tapping Charlie on the shoulder.

  "Tillie, stop the joking, I want to see you," Charlie cried with frustrated anticipation. "What? Just tell us."

  "There's a werecat out there who would love a word with you," Tillie said, her smile rematerializing first. "It's quite a sight. Come on."

  She took Charlie by the hand and led him out into the sun. It took Charlie's eyes a moment to adjust to the light, but even when they did focus he had to blink to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. The clearing was filled with people: on one side a hundred Guardians in full armor, swords drawn, with the green and gold colors of the Council flying on pikes they had planted in the ground, a very proud and smiling Marley heading the tight formation. On the other, almost as many jet-black motorcycles under leather-clad, bearded Dwarves wearing Blues Brothers sunglasses. Some Dwarves were playing cards and drinking out of disposable coffee cups. Others did donuts circling the old gravestones on their bikes. Above their heads soared the Vola on Eagle-back in long, lazy circuits guarding the airspace. And in front of them stood four figures and a giant tigress whose tail twitched back and forth in jubilant irritation.