The Heretic: Templar Chronicles Book 1 (21 page)

Donaldson was drifting in and out of consciousness, but didn’t appear to be mortally wounded. Michaels, however, was clearly in trouble. A wide gash split his forehead from just above his eye all the way back past his right ear. His left arm was bent at a strange angle below the elbow, and a wide bloodstain spread across the front of his shirt.

Duncan and Cade carried him over to clear a spot on the floor and set him down gently. As Duncan tried to staunch the thin stream of blood from the Preceptor’s head wound, Cade tore open the man’s shirt to get a look at his injuries.

A large gaping wound could be seen just below the left side of the man’s ribcage, the occasional flash of glistening pink revealing the damage to internal organs. Minor knife cuts and what appeared to be bite wounds covered his chest, arms, and legs. To make matters worse, the Preceptor was still losing blood at a tremendous rate as his heart fought to keep it pumping through his damaged form.

“Can you do anything for him?” Cade asked.

“As soon as the medics get here, we can…”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. We don’t have time to wait for the medics. He’ll be dead by then!”

Duncan looked up defiantly. “Then no. No, I can’t do anything for him.” He’d vowed not to use his strange power. It was a vow he intended to keep, no matter what the circumstances.

Cade had other ideas, though. His hand moved to the gun at his side. “I’m giving you an order, Sergeant. I don’t care what your personal problems might be; you’re going to do what you can to save this man.”

The muzzle of the gun inched upward slightly.

The two men stared at each other.

*** ***

In the end, it wasn’t the threat of the gun that caused Duncan to give in. He’d spent the last three years protecting this man day and night. He had the power to save him now.
How could he not use it?

Duncan gently lowered Michaels’s head to the floor and moved to the Preceptor’s side. “I’ll give it a try. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Do what you can.”

Duncan placed his hands on either side of the bloody gap in the injured man’s flesh. Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and called upon his power.

To everyone else it looked like Duncan was simply praying over the older man, but thanks to his Sight, Cade could see the brilliant blue glow that suddenly burst from Duncan’s palms, bathing Michaels in its light. As Cade watched the outer edges of the wound began to knit together, flesh merging with flesh. The flow of blood slowed, but did not stop.

Suddenly the light flared, spluttered, and died.

Cade glanced anxiously at his teammate. “What happened?”

“I’m… not sure.”

Duncan’s hair was disheveled and rivers of sweat streamed down his face from the effort. He shook his head as if to clear it, shifted his hands slightly, and tried again. This time, the light merely flickered once before dying out. Duncan kept at it for several more minutes, to no avail.

Finally, he slumped back on his heels, exhausted and confused. “I’ve never encountered anything like this before. It’s as if something is actively working to resist my efforts.”

Despite all he had done, blood was still flowing from the chest wound. And there was very little else they could do for Michaels.

Michaels must have understood his situation, for he suddenly tried to speak to them. Whatever he meant to say, however, was drowned in a fit of coughing.

“Easy, Preceptor, easy. Help is on the way,” Duncan told him, holding his hand for reassurance.

But the Preceptor would not be silenced. He tried again, but couldn’t get the words out around the sudden stream of blood that surged up out of his throat. His message dissolved into a fit of hacking as he sought to clear his airway and to draw another breath into his punctured lungs.

Cade knew that the man had only moments left to live. Without Duncan’s attempt at healing, he wouldn’t have survived even this long. Whatever he was trying to tell them was about to be lost forever.

Knowing he had no other choice, Cade made a decision. Stripping off his right glove, he seized Michaels’s bare hand in his own.

Darkness.

Chaos.

Figures rushing about; the stench of decay heavy in the air; shouts of pain, of fear. He turns, determined to raise the alarm, to let the others know that the attack is under way.

A figure is suddenly there before him, blocking the way to the exit.

He pauses, and that is his mistake. A moment of chilling cold as something shoves its way into his flesh, then pain, terrible pain, the kind of pain that drowns out everything else in a great overwhelming curtain of white noise, cutting, tearing, savage pain.

A hand grasps the back of his neck, pulling him closer, driving whatever it is farther into his body, twisting, turning, the pain echoing, building, reverberating through his very soul.

Hot breath in his ear, a familiar voice, “Die, you bastard!”

Then falling, falling, the impact with the floor barely felt as the pain reaches up and engulfs him in its tender arms, nestling him in its horrifying embrace.

As darkness threatens, a face looms before him.

A familiar face.

And then the voice again, a whispered, “Rot in hell, Fool.”

Cade jerked his hand free, stopping the flow of images.

Duncan opened his mouth to ask what Cade had seen, but the expression of rage on the commander’s face caused him to swallow his question unasked. He watched in amazement as Cade surged to his feet and stalked across the room to where the Preceptor’s aide, Donaldson, was being tended by two of the other soldiers. Pushing them aside, Cade reached down, seized the injured man by his lapels, and hauled him to his feet.

“You son of a bitch!” Cade screamed at the other man, shaking him as he did. “Where are they?”

Several of the other Knights rushed forward, intent on helping Donaldson, but Riley and Olsen swiftly interposed themselves between the injured man and his would-be rescuers, protecting their superior with guns drawn.

Duncan could only kneel there, stunned, the tension in the room going from bad to worse as the men from the protective detail drew their own weapons in response.

The room dissolved into chaos. Cade was yelling questions at Donaldson, who though obviously terrified, refused to answer. The local Knights were trying to edge closer in an attempt to pull the two men apart, while Cade’s men worked to keep them at bay. Threats and commands were flying left and right, no one listening to either.

Finally, Duncan had had enough. He drew his pistol, pointed it across the room at a pile of debris, and pulled the trigger.

The echoing gunshot brought everyone, including Cade, up short.

Into the silence, Duncan said, “Preceptor Michaels is dead.”

For a long moment, no one moved or spoke. Then, “And this piece of shit is the reason,” replied Cade. He tossed Donaldson to the floor in disgust and anger. “He lowered the wards and let the Enemy in through some kind of back door. When Michaels discovered his treachery, Donaldson killed him.”

“How can you know that?” asked one of the locals.

“Because the Preceptor told him,” Duncan replied quickly, cutting Cade off before he could answer himself. The last thing they needed at that moment was a discussion of the Heretic’s powers. He would deal with the Commander’s wrath later; right now they needed to defuse the situation. The men from the detail knew him. They’d be far more prone to believe a simple explanation from him than one from Williams.

*** ***

Cade stood back and watched as Duncan marched over to Donaldson and began questioning him under the watchful eyes of the locals.

“You okay, boss?”

Cade turned to find Riley at his elbow, watching him.

“Yeah,” he said, spitting the taste of dust and debris out of his mouth. “That son of a bitch did this. He knows where that bastard Logan is. He might even know how to find the Adversary. He’s going to tell us what he knows. And I intend to make him pay for what he’s done here.”

But it didn’t look like Duncan was getting anywhere. His questions were met with silence. Donaldson stared at the floor, ignoring everything that was said to him. From where he stood Cade could hear his teammate’s voice raised in anger at the prisoner’s indifference, but he knew that without any real threat, the traitor would simply keep his mouth shut. The longer he did so, the farther away his accomplices could get with the stolen relics and the less chance the Templars would have in recovering the Spear.

Something needed to be done, and it needed to be done quickly.

Cade glanced around, taking in the positions of the men in the room. His gaze fell upon the doors that had once guarded the entrance to the secondary vault.

Duncan stepped over to his teammates. “We’re not getting anywhere. We’re going to take him upstairs to one of the interview rooms and let him stew for a while. Then we’ll take another shot at him. Don’t worry, we’ll get what we need out of him.”

Cade ignored the statement. He’d already decided on another course of action, and it didn’t involve further delay. He remained standing between Olsen and Riley, waiting for his chance.

Duncan took charge of the Knights, ordering two of them to get Donaldson on his feet and the others to begin searching the room for any other bodies or missing artifacts that might be uncovered.

With Duncan in the lead, the small group made its way toward the exit.

“The hell with this,” Cade said beneath his breath.

He waited until the group had come abreast of him, then made his move. He stepped between his men, reached out, and grabbed Donaldson. He pulled him close, one arm around the man’s neck, the other holding the barrel of his pistol to Donaldson’s head.

Everyone, including Riley and Olsen, were taken by surprise. They stepped toward him, but Cade had wasted as much time as he intended, and he let them know it.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, twisting the barrel of his gun sharply against the prisoner’s skull. “I’ll put a bullet through his brain faster than you think. I don’t need him alive to discover what he knows.”

It was a bluff, pure and simple, designed to let his men know that he hadn’t completely lost it, at the same time using his reputation to keep the other Knights at bay.

It worked, for the group froze where they stood, waiting to see what he would do.

Cade had timed his move perfectly and stood with his back to the pile of debris on which the steel doors that once guarded the entrance to the secondary vault now rested.

He needed time to question Donaldson properly, needed the freedom to do it his way. He didn’t stop to think, didn’t stop to analyze the possible success or failure of what he intended to do. Instead, he simply threw himself backward at the reflective surface of the doors without letting go of the stranglehold on Donaldson.

As the rest of the soldiers in the room watched in shocked surprise, Cade and his unwilling passenger struck the reflective surface of the doors and disappeared into the Beyond.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The sun was just rising over the treetops when Cade appeared at the gate outside the commandery. Word of what had happened in the Reliquary must have spread, for he noted that the guards opened the gate and waved him through without a word. He noted the fear in their eyes as he passed. One soldier even crossed himself when he thought the other man wasn’t looking.

And with that the legend of the Heretic grew.

So be it,
he thought. He was under too much pressure at the moment to care. He’d deal with the fallout later.

Cade had one of the guards transport him down the long drive and to the manor house. Once inside he went immediately to the Preceptor’s office. Two guards stood outside, but they made no move to stop him as he stepped up to the doors, found them unlocked, and disappeared inside the office.

After that it only took him a few more moments to get the video-conferencing equipment powered up. Placing the call, he stood in front of the screen, waiting for the connection to be made.

The call went through quickly. Cade wasn’t surprised to find that someone had been specifically detailed to wait for any incoming messages. The higher-ups would want to know as much as possible as soon as possible.

When Cardinal Giovanni finally appeared, however, it was clear that he was disappointed to see Cade.

“Knight Commander Williams,” he said, with a bit of a frown as he took his seat before the camera. “Where, may I ask, is Preceptor Michaels?”

“I’m sorry to report that Preceptor Michaels is dead, Your Eminence.”

Giovanni’s expression remained steady, though Cade thought he saw his lips tighten ever so slightly. “What happened?”

Cade explained how Michaels had died and what he had learned from his interrogation of Donaldson; how the traitor had disabled the wards and granted the Necromancer’s troops access to the grounds, how he had led them into the manor house and down through the lower levels to the Reliquary itself, how he had fooled the Preceptor into opening the sanctuary to the very enemy he was trying to protect it from. He saved the worst for last.

“The Council probably has the Spear in its possession by now, Eminence. Logan more than likely also has a significant number of other artifacts along with it; the investigation team is still trying to determine what was destroyed versus what is missing from the Reliquary.”

“I don’t need to tell you how dangerous this situation has become, do I, Knight Commander?”

Cade shook his head. “No, Your Eminence, you don’t. That’s why I’ve taken the liberty of calling up both Echo and Bravo Teams and putting them on combat alert. Donaldson gave us the location of the Council’s stronghold in Louisiana. I intend to stage a combined air and land assault against it before nightfall. All I need is your approval, sir.”
I don’t even truly need that,
he thought to himself,
but it doesn’t hurt to play nice in the sandbox now and then.