IK1

Immortal Knights: Search for

the Spear

By

Cynthia Breeding

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 2

© copyright by Cynthia Breeding, September 2009

Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, September 2009

ISBN 978-1-60394-366-6

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 3

The mists rose silently from the sea, gathering themselves into a blanket of

whiteness that shrouded the Holy Isle from eyes that were not meant to see.

Seated on the cromlech inside the circle of standing stones at the summit of the isle, Brighid sighed and set the large glowing crystal aside. It had not told her anything that she did not already know.

“What bothers you, my love?”

The Goddess turned toward her consort. “My demonic grandfather is reaping

havoc in the world again, Bres. Instilling seeds of hate into the hearts of radical zealots was not enough. He has managed to slip the Inner Knowledge that the mortals call Science into the hands of unstable governments.”

Bres laid a hand on her shoulder. “Balor has instigated jihad into Muslims, Jews and Christians alike for centuries. The humans have always survived.”

“But humanity did not have the means for mass destruction in past centuries.

They do now. One wrong decision and they could annihilate themselves. Totally.”

“But Balor will not let that happen,” Bres said reasonably as his hands began to massage the diety’s shoulders. “If he were to lift the patch from his evil eye and destroy the world, what would he have left to play with?”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment to enjoy her lover’s touch. “You forget, my dear, that these mortals are no longer controllable by us. Once hate and rage have lodged in their hearts, even Balor might not be able to stop what happens. Evil feeds upon itself.” She picked up the crystal and moved her hand across it to clear away the fog and peered inside. “Why can I not find my brother? He is our only hope to capture Balor and bring him to justice. It is written that only his grandson, whom Balor thinks dead, can kill him.

“You know that when Lugh gave up his divinity to pursue Balor into the Dark

Ages, he would be difficult to locate amidst the swarm of mortals. Donning the Templar mantle in the 1100’s only put another barrier between him and us.”

“You know why he had to do that,” she answered, “to live in the mortal world, he had to assume human form and their minds cannot fully understand Truth. The Templars were the closest to it. But Lugh retained his ability to shift and I can not find him in his animal form either. I have always been able to contact the wolf before.”

Bres frowned. “And drawing the beast out weakens him. How often can he

afford to do that if he is to win the battle with Balor?”

Brighid raised her head and gazed into the lapis blue of the heavens above the vapory veil that surrounded them. “But I must do it this once. The lost Hallows of the Tuatha de Danann need to be found and reunited by us. Combined, the powers of the spear, sword, dish, and chalice are unstoppable. If Balor finds them first, I shudder to think what horror and torment he would inflict on mortals…for you are right, Bres. He would not annihilate the world on his own. He enjoys inflicting pain too much. He would bring mortals to the edge of death and make them plead with him to be allowed to SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 4

die and then he would use the chalice to bring them back and begin again. Lugh must be the one to find the relics. He must.”

“Aye. The spear that will always fly true and the sword that no man can escape make mighty weapons even in these modern times.” Bres smiled. “Just imagine what those military leaders in their armored tanks would do to see a medieval knight advancing upon them?”

The Goddess did not return his smile. “No doubt they would shoot him.”

“Ah, yes, they will try. But Lugh-- Lucas to this world-- is still immortal. And the chalice will heal any wounds. Perhaps the sight of that alone will be enough to make warmongers lay down their weapons and share in the dish of peace.”

“Ah, peace.” Brighid sighed again. “What was it that the mortal, John Lennon, said years ago? “Imagine … a world free of violence and bloodshed. The Hallows could do that. But,” she added, “Lugh will not be able to do it alone. The masculine aspect of the spear and sword and the feminine powers of the Hallows of the chalice and dish must be balanced. He will need the help of a woman.”

Bres arched an eyebrow. “A mortal woman?”

Brighid nodded and ran her hand across the crystal again and handed it to him.

“Look inside.”

He took the rock. Deep inside the vibrations an image formed of a young woman with long black hair and deep blue eyes standing inside a pentacle. His eyebrow climbed higher. “A witch?” he asked with a grin.

Brighid snatched the crystal back, somewhat annoyed. “She is of our ancient

Bloodline, although she does not yet know what full powers she possesses. At this point she sees only the faeries and elementals.”

“They are a fine lot to battle the forces of evil with,” Bres said sardonically.

“Half the time, they are in the middle of those muddles, having a grand time. I doubt that Lugh will need their help.”

“Mayhap not, but the witch is attuned to them. And the elementals respond in

kind to how they are treated. They can be formidable. Her light is white—untainted—

and she has several close friends who also have special gifts that will help in this war.

Lugh will need her.”

A corner of Bres’ mouth lifted in a slight smile. “Assuming, of course, that this witch will not have a problem believing that our Lugh is immortal and on the “right side”

even if he is sometimes a wolf?”

“My brother can be most persuasive. Most women love him.”

Bres grinned. “Aye. Lugh has never had a problem seducing a female into his

bed.” Then he sobered. “But you know as well as I that the witch’s power cannot be enticed from her. It must be given freely and in light of Truth or it will recoil onto the taker.”

Brighid set the crystal down and stood. “Come with me, then.” She walked to

the center of the stone circle and raised her hands. “Let us see how this story unfolds.”

And the mists parted below them, exposing the human world.

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 5

One strong hand cradled her head as the Templar’s mouth softly brushed hers,

teasing, tantalizing her into wanting more of him. His face was lost in shadows, but his hot breath grazed her cheek as he pulled her lower lip between his, nibbling lightly until she parted her lips and invited him in. His tongue, warm and velvety, leisurely explored her mouth while his other hand deftly undid the buttons to her silk blouse. Calloused fingertips were surprisingly gentle as he kneaded her breast and flicked a thumb across her nipple. It budded immediately.

With a sigh of pleasure, she let him lay her back against the bed, dark hair fanning across the pillow. He tore off the white mantle with its square red cross and she savored the feel of his naked skin and the smooth, hard muscles of his arms and chest as he stretched out beside her.

He parted her shirt and trailed kisses down her throat to where her exposed,

rounded mounds waited for him, nipples taut in anticipation. He lolled his tongue over one, causing her to gasp and then took it in his mouth and began to suckle, long and ....

Danger!

With a start, Sara Kincaid sat up in bed, glancing around wildly. She was alone.

And she’d dreamt of the Templar again. Had been dreaming of him ever since the devastatingly handsome Lucas Ramsey came to work for her boss a short time ago. Like she needed that kind of man in her life. Loser Number Three’s betrayal still hurt. She shook her head. There was no reason to dream of Templars anyway. The medieval artifacts at the auction she’d attended must still be on her mind. The private research she did for Mr. Smith concerned Celtic history, not warrior monks on Crusade.

So, yes. She was attracted to the elusive Lucas and maybe seeing him wearing

the Celtic cross pendant with its fleur-de-leis on a gold chain had influenced her imagination. The mind was a powerful thing, as she well knew from the meditation and centering that was required before the Circle of the Sisterhood-- she refused to call them a coven-- performed a ritual. Maybe the dream was a past life regression or something.

Danger!

Her head snapped up, remnants of sleep gone. Nim, the faerie who resided in her home, hovered anxiously in the air beside her. To most humans, she would have been no more than a slight shimmer in the moonlight that splashed through the window, but Sara could see her delicate features, long pale hair and ivory gown. The faerie’s gossamer wings beat rapidly, which meant she was highly agitated. Or scared.

Then Sara heard it. Just a slight swish, as if a curtain fluttered somewhere in the breeze. But her windows were all closed and securely locked.

Silently she reached for the Smith and Wesson .38 that she kept on the floor

below her bed. With all the wackos strung out on drugs these days, a single woman living in the Dallas-Ft. Worth metro area couldn’t be too careful.

Another sound. A footfall? Was someone coming down the hall? She knew

she’d thrown the deadbolt and if someone had broken in, surely she would have

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 6

awakened to the noise. It wasn’t like she had been in the throes of a climax … yet.

But there it was again. Closer this time. She slipped out of bed and took the extra two pillows on her king-size bed and lumped them under the sheet. Her eyes spotted a hairpiece she occasionally wore on those occasions when she had to dress up and look somewhat elegant. Quickly, she unpinned it from the mannequin’s head and laid it on the pillow. Then she padded silently to the closet and stepped in, leaving the door slightly ajar so she could see. She covered the hammer of the revolver with one hand and quietly cocked it. She might not have time for the safety of a double-action gun.

The door to her bedroom swung open slowly. The man wore a ski mask, but he

was tall and powerfully built, like a bouncer in some club. A gang thug? But what would they want with her? And he was moving too stealthily to be on drugs.

She held her breath as he neared the closet and wondered if the thumping of her heart could actually be heard. The man stopped at the dresser and started rifling the drawers tossing delicate, lacy panties and bras on the floor. Not finding anything, he glanced at the closet. Sara stopped breathing and readied the gun.

But he moved past her to the armoire and opened its drawers. More clothing went flying to the floor and then he gave a grunt. He’d found her leather portfolio at the bottom of the case. Opening it, he shuffled the papers, apparently satisfied that they were all there.

He tucked the bag under his arm and started out. At the door he paused and

turned around and Sara saw that he, too, was armed. The gun was an automatic, probably a 9mm that seemed so popular with criminals, and it had a wicked looking silencer on the barrel.

The man lifted the gun and fired at the bed. Bing. Bing. Bing. So soft. So deadly. And then he was gone.

She heard the door click close and sank to the floor of the closet before her

trembling legs gave out entirely. Someone had just tried to kill her to get the manuscript.