The Heretic: Templar Chronicles Book 1 (25 page)

Couldn’t harm him.

But that didn’t mean that Cade couldn’t harm the Spear itself.

It was a difficult shot, made more so by the narrowness of the weapon’s shaft and the room’s dim lighting. It was a shot that few men could have made.

Cade was one of those men.

The shot flew true, striking the wooden shaft of the Spear a few inches below the metal shank that held the tip in place and splintering it into pieces. The head of the weapon flew off into the shadows behind the Necromancer, leaving him holding a useless shaft of oak.

Logan’s shriek of pain and outrage echoed off the walls around them.

But before Cade could end the confrontation with another well-placed bullet, a tremendous blow shook the house, sending them all to the floor..

*** ***

A sharp whine filled the crew compartment, the sound cycling upward into almost painful levels; and then, with a loud crack, something snapped.

The Knights stared at the ceiling; the rotors had shut down.

Seconds later the loud braying of the emergency alarm filled their ears and the pilot gave the Mayday call over the radio.

As soon as he understood they were going down, Duncan pulled himself into a tight ball, protecting the back of his neck with his hands, just as he’d been taught.

One moment they were in the heart of the phantom clouds, the spectres feasting on their engines, and the next they were plummeting through the huge glass walls of the conservatory, the air filled with flying glass, crumpled steel, and the screams of the living and the dead as the ground came up to meet them.

*** ***

Cade pushed himself up on his hands just in time to see the Necromancer disappear through a door in the back of the room. Hauling himself to his feet, he looked for Riley, who was just climbing to his knees, a thin trickle of blood seeping across his forehead. Cade ran over to help him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, pulling the big man up by his arm.

Riley nodded, wiping at the blood absently. “Yeah, I’m fine. I could see and hear, I just couldn’t move. What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t have time to find out.” He turned and pointed across the room. “Logan escaped through the back door. I want you to grab the Spear and get out of the house with it. Do whatever you need to in order to keep it safe. I’m going after Logan.”

“But…”

“There’s no time. Get the Spear. I’ll meet you out front as soon as I can.”

And with that Cade ran off, following his enemy deeper into the house, leaving Riley to recover the artifact.

*** ***

Duncan came to with the straps of his seat belt cutting into his chest and threatening to suffocate him. He was hanging upside down in the darkness, bruised and battered, but intact.

He took a deep breath, gave a short prayer, and pressed the belt release with his left hand.

He landed on the ceiling of the Blackhawk with a jarring crash. As he moved to get up, he put his hand in a pool of something thick and wet.

Fuel oil
, was his first thought, but when he got a good whiff of the substance he corrected himself.

Blood.

The thought put more urgency in his movement.

Climbing carefully into a crouch, he reached into the leg pocket of his coveralls and withdrew one of the standard-issue light sticks he carried on every mission.

By its light he could see Olsen still hanging above him, held in place by his safety straps.

He could also see the wide stain on the front of the man’s coveralls and the thick piece of shrapnel that had gone through them, his body armor, and, finally, deep into his chest.

With a tentative hand, he reached up to see if his companion was still alive.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Logan plunged down the back steps and outside into the wall of fog he had summoned while on the run just moments before. With the loss of the Spear had come a loss of power, and he knew this latest act of sorcery wouldn’t last very long. He had to be under cover before it disappeared.

With a sense of direction bred from years of familiarity, he headed for the chapel.

He had to reach the Other before they caught up with him.

He would know what to do.

He would help him recover the Spear.

He had to.

To have come so far, only to lose it now would be unthinkable.

Logan couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. His early-alarm system had worked perfectly, letting him know the assault was on its way. He’d placed his troops, summoned reinforcements the likes of which he had never been powerful enough to summon before, and had counterattacked before the Templars had even known what was happening.

Yet somehow the damned Templars had managed to breach his defenses.

Everything he had worked for was in ruins.

From the sounds of the small-arms fire coming from other parts of the property, it seemed the Knights were still fighting against his allies, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the last of them were destroyed, and the full force of the Templar contingent would descend on the house.

He had to regain some measure of control before that happened.

Reaching the chapel, the Necromancer hauled the door open and stepped inside.

The chapel was lit with the same eerie red glow that always accompanied the Other’s presence; but even as the Necromancer made his way down the center aisle, it slowly began to fade away until he was left standing before the altar alone in the darkness.

The Other had abandoned him for his failure.

*** ***

Cade emerged from the plantation house and stood for a moment on the back steps.

Ahead of him was a wall of grey. The fog was thick, unnatural. It felt more like a living presence than an inanimate object. He could sense it looming there, pressing against his awareness like an unseen danger, waiting to swallow him whole.

He knew that the Necromancer had disappeared into its depths.

He had no choice but to follow.

With his gun in one hand and his sword in the other, he plunged down the steps and into the mist.

*** ***

Unable to free Olsen from the twisted webbing that held him in place, Duncan was forced to support Olsen’s body with one hand and slice through the webbing and seat belt with his combat knife.

He caught his companion’s body as it dropped and carefully hauled him out of the wreckage of the chopper. He found a relatively clear piece of floor and laid him gently down upon it. Now that he was free of the crew cabin he could see that the chopper had smashed through ceiling of the conservatory and buried itself in the wall that attached it to the plantation house.

Looking through the gaping hole they had created, he could see the raging storm. Lightning flashed, illuminating the strange shapes moving in the clouds, but for the moment they no longer seemed interested in the wreck of the chopper.

Which was just fine by him.

A quick look at the front of the Blackhawk let him know there was no chance that either of the pilots had survived, so he returned to Olsen’s side, only to find him conscious.

Olsen’s hand reached out to Duncan.

“It’s all right. You’re okay,” Duncan said softly, kneeling over his companion and doing what he could to block his view of the large hunk of glass protruding from the man’s chest.

Olsen tried to respond, but only managed to cough up a large mass of blood.

It was clear to Duncan that his companion didn’t have long to live.

A man lay dying, and he had the power to save him, power that had been given to him by the Lord above. To ignore that power, to pretend it didn’t exist simply because he didn’t understand it was not honoring the Lord, as he’d believed for so long, but denying Him. Cade had it right, Duncan realized. It wasn’t where the power came from, but how it was used that was important.

He made his decision.

“Listen to me, Nick. I’m going to remove the piece of glass from your chest and see what I can do about that wound. It’s not going to be easy. You’ve got to stay with me, fight to stay alive, do you hear me?”

Olsen stared at him glassy-eyed, and Duncan was afraid he was already past the point of understanding, but finally he gave a short nod.

“All right. On the count of three.” Duncan grasped wrapped his hands around the shard of glass. He made certain he had a good grip on it, ignoring the way it bit into the flesh of his hands. He could deal with that later, after he managed to stabilize Olsen.

He caught Olsen’s gaze. “One, two, three…”

He pulled.

Olsen screamed.

The shard of glass came free with a wet, sucking sound.

The blood flowed in waves.

Duncan brought his own bleeding hands over the massive wound in Olsen’s chest.

*** ***

Cade did his best to move forward in a straight line, trusting that his sense of direction wouldn’t fail him.

Yet within moments, he knew he had sadly underestimated the fog. It felt like a cocoon. Visibility was limited to less than a foot in front of his face, the thickness of the fog working to strip his sense of direction from him.

He slowed, then stopped. He wanted to use his Sight, but there were too many unearthly creatures roaming the grounds at the moment; his Sight would be like a beacon fire in the night for them. Walking in the stuff was bad enough. Fighting a pitched battle against barely visible opponents would be far worse.

No, he had no choice but to continue forward.

He stepped off again, moving cautiously, aware of the passage of each moment like a ticking bomb, knowing every second increased the possibility that Logan had diverged from this course.

A shape moved in the fog ahead of him, a suggestion of a hooded figure, and Cade surged ahead, trying to catch up.

Ten steps later he emerged from the fog entirely.

The moon shone brightly, just as it had at the start of the incursion.

By its light he could see that the figure he was chasing was Gabrielle. As he watched, she disappeared inside the oak door of a small chapel.

*** ***

The Necromancer fell to his knees, pleading. “No! Don’t go! You can defeat them. You can recover the Spear, we can still succeed!”

His words bounced off the nearby walls, mocking him with their echo and the emptiness of the chapel around him.

He could feel his power waning; whatever gifts the Other had provided were disappearing along with their provider, and he was being left with only the petty knowledge he had gained on his own in the years before the Other’s coming.

His dreams of glory were fading with each passing second.

A shout from outside reached his ears.

He had only moments before his enemy was upon him.

He looked around frantically for a weapon.

*** ***

Cade pushed the door open fully, letting the moonlight illuminate the aisle before him that led into the heart of the chapel.

He could see an altar in the shadows ahead, but no sign of Gabrielle.

“Gabbi?” he called.

When no answer came, he stepped inside, waiting a moment on the other side of the threshold to let his eyes adjust to the dim light.

Cautiously, he started down the center aisle toward the altar.

Halfway to his destination, the quiet of the small chapel was broken.

Shrieking, the Necromancer charged out of the shadows and swung a large metal candleholder at Cade’s head.

Cade ducked beneath the attack, allowing the makeshift club to pass harmlessly over his head. Adrenaline surging, Cade went on the offensive, stepping inside his enemy’s swing, one hand against the other man’s upper arm, preventing him from coming back in that direction with another attack. At the same time, Cade’s left fist hammered into the Necromancer’s midsection, once, twice, three times.

His enemy countered by continuing his turn and coming around full circle, the heavy base of the candleholder sweeping in at foot level.

Cade jumped up and over the weapon, only to catch the other end across the side of his face as the Necromancer deftly maneuvered it to continue his assault.

The blow sent Cade to the ground, his sword tumbling out of reach.

The Necromancer rushed in, shoving the base of the candleholder at Cade’s face, intending to end the confrontation with one well-placed blow.

The Templar Commander would not be silenced that quickly.

He threw himself backward, into one of the pews, avoiding the potentially lethal blow as the base of the weapon smashed into the end of the pew itself.

The Necromancer screamed in frustration and lifted the heavy weapon over his head for another strike.

That was all Cade needed to turn the tide in his favor.

Diving out of the pew, Cade struck him hard, driving his shoulder into his solar plexus in a makeshift tackle. His momentum carried them across the aisle and against the end of the row of pews on the other side, where the Necromancer smashed bodily into the unyielding surface.

The pain of the blow forced him to drop the candleholder.

Gripping his robes with one hand, Cade rained several blows down on the necromancer’s unprotected face.

A knife appeared from somewhere inside the Necromancer’s robes, and he slashed at Cade with it.

A sliver of moonlight danced along its edge as it came inward toward him, giving Cade enough warning to skip to the side, out of the way of its razor edge.

The move forced him to let go of his hold on the other man’s robes.

Knowing he needed more room if he was to evade further attacks, Cade stepped out into the open area in front of the altar. Logan rushed him.

Cade waited, timing his action.

As the knife came in, he stepped inside its reach, smashing the hard edge of both hands against the inside of the other man’s forearm. Keeping his left hand on his attacker’s wrist, pinning the blade away from him, he used the ridge of his other hand in the opposite direction to strike the Necromancer hard along the line of his neck, just below the ear.

The blow achieved its desired effect, stunning his attacker.