Reformation (32 page)

an hour after
sunset Tomal sat quietly with his back leaning against the outer walls of Nonnberg Abby near the eastern edge of Salzburg immediately below the archbishop’s fortress.

A flash bright enough to rival the rising sun lit up the northern sky and was immediately followed by a thunderous boom that was both felt and heard throughout the city.  Tomal’s eyes followed the low arch of a flaming ball
as it struck the upper fortress wall causing a five foot section to break away and tumble down the steep hillside below.

The damage was impressive, but
the aim still managed to miss the ridge beam that lay a few degrees higher on the cannon’s trajectory.  Five shots had rung out already, but none managed to hit the magical target.  Two sailed high, two hit the fortified walls with no effect, but the fifth definitely got much closer.  With twenty five shots left, and the target already bracketed in reasonably well, it was only a matter of time before the fortress sustained a catastrophic hit.

The near miss must have
gotten the archbishop’s attention.  Not long after the fifth cannon blast did its damage, the fortress doors opened and released a thousand soldiers along with a few hundred cavalry.  Tomal could only imagine their orders were to capture or disable the cannon.

Once
all of the Archbishop’s forces were through the gates, the heavy wooden doors were locked shut behind them once more.  The large body of soldiers snaked their way down the winding road leading into the city at a double time pace.  When they reached the central city all hell broke loose as pitched battles filled the narrow streets with the clatter of metal striking metal, and periodic death wails from the combatants filled the air. 

Tomal could honestly not predict which force would w
in out.  The soldiers were well armed and organized professionals, but the peasants had ten times their numbers and a burning hatred behind their cause.  The losses would be substantial on both sides.  Knowing that, Tomal was quite happy to remain safe and hidden among the shadows.

While the battle among the streets raged on, yet another blast from the cannon lit up the night sky.  Tomal watched the projectile strike the angled roof
of the fortress halfway up the sloped side.  It blasted through the timbers and punched a hole out the other side before landing harmlessly on the south side of the city among some fallow farm fields.  The shots were getting very close now, which only added to the ferocity of the street battles.

After the blast Tomal allowed his eyes to adjust once more to the darkness.  As the bright blotches vanished from his vision
, the wooden rail line leading one hundred meters up the sixty degree incline to the fortress came back into focus.

Upon commencement of the siege, the two rail cars attached to one another on the single track made the ascent five time
s carrying supplies.  Even though the siege was to only last a single day, Tomal ordered the Abby seized and the rail line carrying supplies up to the fortress stopped.  For hours it had remained inactive, but Tomal had it on good authority that the cars would make at least one more trip up the rails under the cover of darkness.

Fi
ve minutes later Tomal’s expectations were met.  He heard a muffled squeak of wheels grinding against the wooden rail line.  Tomal instantly sprung to his feet and ran over to where the rails left the Abby grounds on the elevated track.

He stood between a set of support beams that rose fifteen feet into the air to hold the rail aloft.  He put his back against one and his legs against the other and shimmied his way up until he was able to grab hold of the rails above and pull himself up onto the tracks.

Tomal looked down the line and spotted the train of two cars still thirty feet down the track and progressing slowly his direction.  He allowed the hemp rope pulling the cars to pass between his legs as he straddled the rails until the lead car came close enough for him to climb in.

There he waited
as the cars silently pulled up the steep incline.  The fifteen minute journey took him through five openings in the concentric defensive walls of the fortress that were just large enough to allow the cars through before finally arriving at the eastern edge of the central courtyard.

When the cars stopped moving
, Tomal apprehensively poked his head over the side.  Most of the courtyard was illuminated by ten raised metal baskets holding blazing piles of wood.  The only area not lit was the eastern section where the rail line and team of donkeys driving the pull crank remained in the shadows.  As expected, the courtyard was nearly empty since all but a handful of the protectors were outside the fortress attempting to silence the cannon.

O
ut of the darkness a hand flashed in front of Tomal’s face.  It took a moment of controlled breathing for him to recover from his shock, but he finally grabbed hold of the hand and climbed his way out of the cramped rail car.  When he reached the ground and turned around, Tomal came face to face with Tonwen sporting a stern scowl.

“I see
the Duke of Helfenstein did not disappoint.  He took your designs and forged a cannon that functions quite well,” Tonwen admired.

“Yes, thank you for dropping them off for me,” Tomal replied.  “And I see someone in here convinced the Archbishop that the structural integrity of his entire fortress was at risk if the cannon continued firing.  How many soldiers are left inside the castle?”

“Not nearly enough,” Tonwen answered with the corners of his mouth turning upward for a rare smile.  “I do love when a plan comes together.”

“I doubt even Hastelloy could have done any better,” Tomal added.  “Now where is the archbishop?”

“He retired to his private chapel to seek divine guidance,” Tonwen answered.

“How very convenient for us,” Tomal beamed.  “Lead the way.”

Tomal and Tonwen
carefully stuck to the shadows as they made their way around the courtyard until they finally slipped into the main structure unseen by the few guards remaining.  Both men wound their way up a tight spiral staircase that let them out into a great room with open, vaulted ceilings that rivaled any throne room the world over. 

The entire ceiling was adorned with larger than life
paintings of dramatic scenes from the Bible separated into panels by brilliant white plaster with gold inlays.  Polished wood floors, tapestries, and two fireplaces with solid marble mantles were just a few of the amenities on display.  The view of the huge chamber was only interrupted by two decoratively carved and painted support columns holding up the single wooden ridge beam of the roof.

As Tomal admired the artistry of the columns
, another blast from the cannon down below sent a cannonball screaming towards the fortress roof.  A moment later, it blasted a hole through the roof and slammed into one of the support columns, delivering a glancing blow only a few feet below the ridge beam.  The cannonball came to rest in the center of the chamber along with a similar sized chunk of wood separated from the column, but the support remained standing and continued to perform its duties.

“In retrospect, I may have designed that cannon to be a little too accurate,” Tomal admired.  “We need to hurry.
  The next shot, if they manage to get another off, just might do the trick.”

Tonwen led them through a door along the far wall which brought them into a dark hallway made of stone except for a thick wooden plank laid into
the middle of the floor.  Tomal realized the wooden inlay was there so the archbishop could walk around the castle during the cold winter months on warm wood rather than cold stones.

“I am not exactly sure where the chapel is located since I have never been allowed into this part of the castle.  These are his private chambers,” Tonwen whispered.

“Assuming the chapel is his favorite room to visit, I think we can follow the most worn path in the wood and find it,” Tomal offered.  “It certainly beats wandering around aimlessly.”

Tonwen
and Tomal first followed a well-worn groove in the wood runner that brought them to a narrow door along the outer wall of the fortress.  Tomal pulled on the iron loop handle to reveal a tiny closet that had a knee high stone shelf with a single hole the size of a grown man’s backside.

“Well that figures,” Tomal mused and then quietly shut the bathroom door once more and followed Tonwen further down the hallway.  Bed chambers, a library, and a small kitchen came and went without yielding a private chapel that Tonwen knew for certain was there.

The long hallway eventually came to an end with one final doorway which gained them entry to the archbishop’s private office.  The modest sized room had no windows or other doors leading in new directions.  They were at a dead end with no other prospects. 

A moment of panic ran through Tomal’s mind
.  Could he be wrong?  Could the Archbishop really just be a man whose egomaniacal nature took him down this path all alone?  No!  The man’s actions had Goron’s stink all over it; Tomal knew the scent all too well.  He refused to give up so easily.

Tomal frantically looked about the office hoping something would catch his eye.  The fireplace was apparently real as four large logs were ablaze inside the hearth giving the chamber both light and warmth. 
The furnishings were nothing substantial: a set of chairs with a small lamp table in between seated in front of a desk.  On the desk sat a flickering lamp and a set of loose papers with chicken scratch writing across them next to a stack of books.

The leather bound reading material caused Tomal’s scrutinizing eye to look upon the row of bookshelves lining the back wall. 
He dashed across the room and ran his hand all along the wooden edges of the shelving until he stopped and looked back at Tonwen with a confident glow.  “I feel air movement.  There is a hidden door behind these bookshelves.”

Tomal did not waste any time.  He reached for an entire
shelf of leather bound books, yanked them all away and tossed them haphazardly into the corner.  Tonwen followed suit, and pretty soon the shelves stood bare with a waist high pile of books overflowing in the corner next to them.

With everything removed from the shelves
, Tomal stepped back to reassess the situation with the calm mind of an engineer.  He let his barely contained anticipation of completing a task over three thousand years in the making to abate. 

He
knew all too well that only Hastelloy had ever managed to kill an Alpha relic on this planet.  He also knew the captain at one time was this close to capturing Goron’s relic, but let the opportunity slip through his fingers.  Tomal was determined not to make the same mistake, this was his moment.

Tomal
would have his revenge on Goron and prove to the rest of the crew that he was truly the better man on this planet.  He proved it in Egypt by destroying the Alpha ship; him, not Hastelloy.  The one stain on his impeccable legacy was the humiliation of being manipulated into serving the Alpha back in Rome.  Now, in the next few moments, that blight would be expunged from his record. Redemption would be his if he could settle his mind enough to open this door.

Tomal closed his eyes and took a deep breath to cleans
e his mind of all distractions.  He then opened his eyes and looked upon the bookcase in a new light.  These were not modern times.  This door did not benefit from self-leveling hinges or mechanical release levers.  It had to be a simple mechanism at work here.

In the upper left corner of the ce
nter shelf Tomal noticed a half inch thick metal rod with the end bent at ninety degrees to give a handhold pointing toward the interior of the bookshelf.  He reached up and pulled down on the rod.  It moved down three inches and suddenly he felt the entire bookshelf become mobile.  He gave it a light push, and the perfectly balanced shelf pivoted around the middle axis as a gimbaled window turned on its side might rotate.

Tomal released the handle and both men pushed on one side of the shelf to turn it completely sideways
, leaving two equally narrow entries separated by the askew shelving.  Beyond the opening lay a corridor that went ten feet straight back and turned ninety degrees to the right.  They heard two distinct sets of voices coming from that direction.

“After you,” To
nwen offered, which Tomal immediately accepted and dashed down the discovered corridor with Tonwen pacing close behind.

“Your orders were both foolish and selfish,”
bellowed a demonic voice from around the corner.  “You have left this fortress completely unprotected until that assault force returns, if they return.”

“But that cannon my lord,” a very
weak, human voice responded.  “A lucky strike could bring down this entire castle on top of you.”

“On top of you!” the winds shouted back along with a bright flash that nearly blinded Tomal as he made ready to step around the turn and enter the
archbishop’s private chapel.  “Such destruction would do nothing to harm my spiritual presence, so you were truly only looking out for yourself.  You were so eager to protect your wonderfully opulent quarters that you put me at risk.”

“That’s what happens when you employ selfish men to
carry out your bidding,” Tomal declared as he and Tonwen stepped into the chapel to secure the room.

Archbishop Leonhard got off of his knees to face the unexpected intruders.  He fir
st looked at Tonwen.  “What is the meaning of this intrusion?  You have no business violating my private chambers like this.”

The archbishop’s eyes then moved over to Tomal and simultaneously filled with recognition and hatred.  “Martin Luther?  This, this can’t be.”  He looked back at Tonwen in desperation.  “You two have been working together this whole time?”

“Of course we have, and with your cooperation as well, though your participation had to be without your knowledge.  A vile creature like you would never do anything for the greater good that did not first benefit you,” Tomal answered on his way to stand between the archbishop and Tonwen.  “You played your part beautifully, but now it’s time to bring the curtain down on your act.”

Tomal did not wait for a retort;
he immediately slugged the archbishop square in the jaw with a right hook that sent the man to the stone floor in an unconscious heap.

“That was rather violent for a man of the cloth, don’t you think Captain Hastelloy?” a voice admonished from all around the room. 
“I would commend you for finally managing to corner me after all these thousands of years, but we both know it’s not much of an accomplishment.  You had a crew of four immortals at your disposal against a formless entity with no arms or legs to even move around or defend myself.  You have to admit, this really wasn’t your best work now was it?”

“You are remarkably flippant for a being
who will soon not exist,” Tomal taunted while prowling toward the altar with measured steps.  “Considering the captain failed to destroy you for so long, why do you assume he is the one standing before you now?”

“Hmmm, there it is,” Goron’s voice replied with a mix of surprise and amusement wrapped toge
ther.  “I’d recognize that self-serving resentment of authority anywhere.  Your timing could not be better, Tomal.”

“Look at the ground in front of you,” Goron ordered.  When Tomal’s eyes reluctantly complied
, the relic went on.  “As you can see, there is an opening for a new archbishop to benefit from my guidance.  This castle, the wealth derived from the nearby salt mines and all of his subjects could be yours if you would only follow my instructions once more.”

“Sounds like quite a plan,” Tomal said dismissively as he pulled a small dagger out from under his priestly robes along with a
stubby glass bottle containing a dark poison even the light from Goron’s relic could not penetrate.  “The thing is, even if I knowingly intended to betray my crew, I still wouldn’t need you to achieve riches and power.  By virtue of my writings and translation of the Bible, I already have a dedicated following throughout the Christian world.  I could parlay that into quite a fortune and empire all on my own.  Maybe I will do that, maybe I won’t.” 

Tomal
abruptly went silent as he slowly drenched the dagger with the dark poison making sure every millimeter of the blade was coated.  He then thrust the blade into the flowing life force of Goron and released his grip on the deadly instrument.  He looked on with orgasmic pleasure as Goron struggled to repel the tainted metal from his life force, but ultimately failed.  The dagger was slowly absorbed into the bright flowing flame which soon after began to dim.

“Either way, you will not be around to see it.  Your existence is now at an end.  The puppet has at last turned
the tables to snip the strings of his puppeteer,” Tomal triumphantly declared as the once vibrant flame dimmed further.

Several silent moments passed before a low, haunting laughter r
ose up from Goron’s relic.  “At last I am released from my prison of solitude.  My crimes at times have been great, but they did not warrant thousands of years spent in solitary confinement.  At last the great, all knowing Mother Nature has seen fit to reclaim me.  My penance is at an end, but yours has only begun.”

As Goron’s light dimmed further
, the darkness of the chamber drew in around Tomal like a cold, damp blanket.  His victory was monumental, yet he could not shake this feeling of guilt eating away in the back of his mind.  He had just murdered a defenseless being; albeit a very dangerous one. 

Tomal wondered if Hastelloy experienced a similar crisis of conscience when he plunged his dagger into the chest of Julius Caesar.  The mere thought of the captain murdering his dear friend, a man
Tomal considered a brother, brought anger and resentment flooding back into Tomal’s heart.

In silence Goron’s life force dimmed further until only a rusty ball teetered above the altar in the dim light cast from the chapel’s lone entry point.  A moment later the ball dropped and shattered upon
the stone altar, releasing a fowl mist carrying with it the stench of death and decay upon the chamber. 

For Tonwen, the fumes instantly induced vomiting.  Tomal stood his ground and raised his arms out wide in triumph. 
He breathed deep the vapors, and relished every breath as a victory trophy - his victory.