Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One) (19 page)

The lush foliage wilted and fell to
ash on barren dirt. Like quicksand, the ground imploded, sinking
into the center of the opening where she stood until nothing
remained but the stars in the charred sky.

The kitten in her arms meowed. Lynn
gritted her teeth before snapping its neck.

She fell through the
sinkhole.

The car’s passenger door flew open and
Lynn tumbled out.

Atticus stood in the
center of the room that Rourn and he had shared for almost two
decades. Rourn’s bureau, black walnut with golden trim, had been
emptied, his robes and garbs that once hung in the closet gone. One
of his sheathed long sword rested peacefully on top of the bureau,
waiting obediently for its master’s return.

Atticus held up the Silver
Selector long sword gifted to him by Elder Cai. The sword had been
hand forged by the Grand Smithy of the Templar Court the day of his
birth. Though it possessed no arcane powers, it had been
specifically crafted for the battles surely to face a Twin warrior.
According to some antiquated lore a warrior was to name the sword
he intended to carry into battle, then he was to prick his finger
with the tip so the named blade would know its master’s blood, and
never accidentally harm him in the throes of war.

But Atticus neither
possessed the imagination nor concern for folkloric nonsense. Two
swords had been crafted on that day long ago, but only one would
ever be wielded—Rourn’s counterpart was doomed like its master to
remain somewhere deep within a vault.

He placed his unnamed
sword on his dresser and crawled into the bottom bunk. Rourn always
took the top. He said he liked being closer to the sky than to the
ground.

There is more knowledge
and faith in the stars above, than in the Earth below our
feet.

But it had been a long day and though
Atticus couldn’t stop thinking about his lost blood-brother, the
inauguration, Elder Cai, and the Time of Reckoning, he soon drifted
into a restless sleep.

Somewhere in an unknown
desert, he found himself bound to a tall wooden stake. A nightmare
of a beast that towered above mountain shadows, burned him at the
stake. Just as the flames engulfed him, a harsh shaking woke
Atticus. “Screaming locust!” He jolted awake.

“
It is time.” Bathed in
light from a kerosene lantern hung on the end of his hornbeam
staff, Elder Cai stood beside the bed. “You must depart for Texas
immediately.”

Atticus knuckled sleep from his
eyes.

“
There has been a murder,”
Elder Cai said. “It would appear the Geminus is behind the
massacre. Come with me, now, Selector. We make haste to the
Knightwood Coliseum.”

Atticus threw some common
clothes in a duffel bag. He paused before grabbing the Silver
Selector long sword and fastening the scabbard to his belt. He
tucked Rourn’s journal into a deep inner pocket of his cloak before
staring out the open window. If he’d known he was going to depart
so soon, he’d have gone to Venora, and said his farewell. And he
would also deeply regret missing Rourn’s funeral.

From his robe pocket,
Elder Cai pulled a chained pendant. The Glorious Seal was carved
into the pendant’s pearl. He draped it around Atticus’ neck. “I
have enchanted it with arcane magic…to aid in your mission. Use it
sparingly. Use it wisely.”

Atticus nodded.

“
Come, boy!” Elder Cai
said. “We’ve no time to spare.”

Crossing the desert sands
of the compound, Atticus asked, “Rumors fly as to the safety of
teleporting.”

“
It is as safe as any
magic.”

“
Will it get me to Texas
in one piece?”

Elder Cai tilted his head.
“Either that or you could land in the Arctic Circle. But we are
praying for Buckeye.”

“
Such comforting words,”
Atticus said.

“
You’ll be fine, boy. But
you did pack winter clothes just in case, didn’t you?” Elder Cai
gave a playful wink.

Atticus and Elder Cai
strolled through the bronze arched tunnel and into the Knightwood
Coliseum. The electric automobile waited in the open arena. The
most exalted warriors from times past and other cadets who’d been
stirred from sleep gathered in the bleachers to see Atticus’ grand
departure.

They came to offer their
support in the most honorable fashion. Two raised platforms hosted
eight men, four on either side. Adorned in elegant green mantles
and silver ceremonial helmets that masked their aged faces; the
High Templars of the Templar Court, all held the posture of
statues.

Prefect Cauldrick, in his
own large ceremonial garb, hands clasped behind his back, said,
“The Court...” He eyed Elder Cai. “...pledges its support of the
lone Twin.”

Atticus bowed. “I accept
my duty with honor, Prefect.”

Elder Cai coughed into his
fist. He threw a mock smile at Prefect Cauldrick. “And you support
the Court, do you not?”

Prefect Cauldrick ignored
Elder Cai. “Please take your position inside the
vehicle.”

Atticus stepped toward the
driver’s door. He hesitated before turning. “I wish to speak with
the High Templars.” He knelt on one knee before Elder Cai and the
Prefect. “This burden weighs on me. I am the grasshopper beneath
the cobblestone from the fables.”

Elder Cai waved his hand.
“Go then and speak with the Templars, but do not
linger.”

“
The lone Twin is not
ready,” Prefect Cauldrick said. “We cannot send him on this
assignment for it was meant for Twin warriors to reckon the
Beast.”

“
Do not second guess my
pupil any longer, for I know this is Atticus’ destiny and so knew
Rourn.”

“
Foolish insolence,”
Prefect Cauldrick said.

Atticus strode toward the
platform on the left. The four sagacious warrior priests stood six
feet above. He craned his neck to view their masked faces. They
remained solid as stone.

Atticus held himself
straight. “I ask of you, the High Templars of the Court: am I ready
for the Reckoning?”

In unison the four
warriors replied: “Alone you shall stand.”

Atticus gave a curt nod and approached
the four warriors on the other side.

“
I ask of you, the High
Templars of the Court: am I ready for the Reckoning?”

In unison the four
warriors replied: “Together we shall fall.”

Atticus
sighed.
These elder warriors will not give
me their truths, only more ceremonial proverbs.

He marched back to the car.

“
Do not let the pressures
of politics cloud your faith,” Elder Cai said to the
Prefect.

“
You’re a fool, Cai!”
Cauldrick said as Atticus approached them. “Nothing but a drunken
poet!”

“
He is no fool,” Atticus
said. “He is my mentor, and my friend, and my only father. Rourn is
dead, and now I must carry on without him. And I will do so with or
without your blessing.”

Prefect Cauldrick gawked at Atticus
then at Elder Cai. He shook his head.

“
We have the utmost faith
in you, Selector Atticus. We only—”

“
I haven't the time,
Prefect. I must go now.”

Cauldrick nodded,
straining a smile. He neared Atticus and handed him a blossoming
white rose. “Then as the Prefect I bless you. Under the rites of
the Order of Abel I bestow the Rose of Validation, Selector
Atticus; and shall the rose wither, so shall your triumph; but
shall the rose remain vibrant, then so shall your
virtues.”

Atticus placed the stem
between his teeth as custom dictated and slid behind the wheel. The
sweet scent of the flower filled the car’s small interior. The
ritual claimed that if it did not wilt after he went through the
portal, he beheld the inner strength of a true warrior, able to
channel his life force even to a delicate rose. But if the flower
wilted...

Through the windshield, he watched the
High Templars rotate their hands while reciting
incantations.

At the far end of the
Coliseum a small white star appeared and expanded.

The swirling portal continued
inflating, concealing the far walls of the arena. Elder Cai stood
beside the driver’s side. The portal spiraled with a multitude of
colors, a swirling kaleidoscopic wheel.

Elder Cai gave him a
comforting smile, tipped his flask and gulped. “Go!” he shouted as
he waved his arm.

Atticus floored the gas pedal. The car
rocketed forward, accelerating. Like a pebble from his slingshot
while Horny Toad Popping, the car hurled toward the massive star
that shined ahead of him.

The speedometer climbed.

Fifty-five...

His teeth clenched tighter around the
rose.

Sixty-five...

The rose would show him
the truth.

Seventy...

The portal’s energy was so
bright he could no longer see the Coliseum.

Eighty-one.

Atticus snapped his head to the right
and spat the rose.

Eighty-six.

A sea of whiteness and beams of
electric blue engulfed him. A deafening silence rolled over the
car. The light faded, replaced by darkness. Headlights beamed in
the distance like the eyes of a charging automatonic wyrm. Atticus
gripped the steering wheel while releasing the gas
pedal.

A massive oncoming vehicle
blared a howling horn as it passed. He clutched the wheel. The car
swerved chaotically. He missed a guardrail and careened sideways
across a grassy median; and came to a stop on the other side of the
road. His eyes widened as two cars raced toward him. Gunning the
gas, he sped to the other side of the highway and into the break
down lane.

Shifting to park, he exhaled a lungful
of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

“
This is quite different
than training in the desert.”

Atticus glanced to the digital screen
above the radio and waited for the GPS to upload his location. A
flashing blue circle appeared, indicating he was just outside
Houston, Texas.

Thank
the angels above I am not on a glacier
.
Gripping the steering wheel at and ten and two, he sighed.
But I have to get the lotus off this
highway.

A
billboard advertised Dr. Pepper.
Poisonous
serum for the masses,
he recalled from his
Contemporary Studies. The phone clipped to the visor above him
rang, a Celtic hymn. He answered.

“
Are you in Texas?” asked
Elder Cai.

“
Yes, sir.”

“
Then it worked!” Elder
Cai’s voice sounded distance as he retold of Atticus’ success to
those in the Coliseum. “And what of the rose, Atticus?”

He glimpsed the dead
flower in the passenger seat, petals dry and stem broken. The sweet
scent no longer present. “It remains vibrant; white as your beard,
Elder.”

“
Splendid! I knew it would
be. I knew it would be.”

“
I am overwhelmed at your
confidence in me.”

“
Waste no time with
pleasantries, Selector. Onward to the murder scene and report back
with your findings.”

“
Yes Elder.” Atticus hung
up and reached under the seat. He retrieved a paper folder, full of
topographical maps and data he’d need for his mission. Before. He
removed Rourn’s journal from his pocket and laid it on the
passenger seat next to the dead rose, then shifted to drive and
swerved onto the interstate. Headlights flooded the dark highway
ahead. “I guess you’ll still be accompanying me,” Atticus said to
the darkness. “We will defeat the Geminus together, my
brother.”

Atticus
tapped the radio and a voice came through: “You're listening to The
Eagle, Houston's only classic rock station. Here comes
Judas Priest
with
‘
You Got Another Thing Coming’”

On her hands and knees, Lynn panned
her new environment. The burnished concrete that formed a crescent
drive in front of a four-story mansion. Graphite columns lifted a
gable like pallbearers holding a casket. Wrought iron barred
windows prevented entry from the outside, or escape from the
inside. A sprawling lawn stretching a couple acres beside and
behind her, giving the mansion a foreboding remoteness. Yet, Lynn
saw other neighboring properties.

She shot upward and
latched onto Isaac with clawing hands. “You murdering bastard!” Her
fingernails peeled flesh from his neck. Through burning tears she
aimed for his face, screaming and flailing.

A sardonic groan served as Isaac’s
only protest.

The back of her hand smashed into his
lips. Blood trickled.

Isaac clutched her wrist.
A glint of moonlight reflected off her diamond ring. With a
menacing crunch, he bit her finger at the knuckle, leaving behind
an amputation of surgical precision. He chewed, swallowed, and spat
remnants of the diamond and gold onto the concrete
driveway.