Order of the Black Sun Box Set 10

by Preston William Child

  As he finished looking over the artifacts in the deep vault, he gave his final answer to them. He accepted his role as the new curator for the Order of the Black Sun. He left his old life behind, where he could only look at artifacts of this caliber in old texts or fables, and became responsible for being the guardian of some of the biggest secrets in history.

  And despite who he was working for, Elijah Dane was content with his role in what would one day become history.

  Nina listened to every word he said, trying to make sense of his tale. It was partly sad, but not unexpected. She knew he'd been a prisoner of the Black Sun before, and she knew about his passion for history. They'd taken advantage of that; lured him in with promises and toys for him to play with. He accepted that he was their captive and just decided to make the most of it.

  He viewed history like it was a sacred, living thing that needed to be protected but doesn't care if people's actions in the present are negatively affecting that. To him, history would only matter after the fact, when it was safe to analyze it. He wouldn't stop a massacre happening now because in his view, it would be part of history that he could look at later.

  It was pathetic, and she let him know that. “You're a coward.”

  Elijah rose from where he had been seated during the story. “I am? That's what you gathered from that?”

  “You won't stand up to bad people as long as they make you feel important. As long as they carve you a nice slice of what you want, give you a few relics, and you're satiated. You don't mind associating with murderers as long as you're in the back room minding your own business.”

  “You think so?”

  “After everything I just heard, yes. You didn't even try to escape. They satiated you to make you happy to be a prisoner, and you just accepted. It was the same thing you tried to do with me when you had me help you in the deep vaults. When I'm on the wrong side of history, I realize that I am. You obviously don't. You might respect history, but you don't understand its lessons. You're no better than Julian and the rest of them. And my point still stands; David Purdue will beat the Black Sun. And he won't just stop with getting me out of here. He's going to take back all of the artifacts that were taken from him. So enjoy being the guardian of those relics while you can. It won't be for much longer.”

  Sasha turned away and refused to continue any sort of conversation. She said what she wanted to say, and she hoped he heard it loud and clear. Elijah was almost as bad as the monsters he worked for. He was a bystander who knowingly worked for bad people and did absolutely nothing to stop them.

  Elijah lingered for a moment but didn't say anything either. When it was clear that the debate was over, he shifted his glasses on his face and then walked away without another word, leaving Nina alone again.

  She hoped that his time dusting off old antiques was worth all of the people he was hurting by helping the Black Sun, though she couldn't imagine it could ever be worth it.

  7

  CHAPTER SEVEN – SHARP LESSONS

  It had been days since Sasha had left him in the motel room. Purdue had only survived thanks to food deliveries. None of those delivery workers seemed to care if he was holding a sword as long as they were getting some cash in their hands. They had probably seen even weirder things on their food runs. Frankly, Purdue expected at least one of those delivery people to actually be a Black Sun agent in disguise. He wouldn't put it past the secret society to hand him a pizza and then stick a dagger in his heart. They fought dirty like that.

  Thank God the room had a television. It helped distract him, at least, but each day he was growing more and more restless. He needed to get rid of this curse, but he had to wait for Sasha if he wanted to proceed. She knew how to do it. If he went on his own, he would have no idea what he was doing and probably end up dead.

  Purdue sat on the bed, staring at the sword in his hand. When he held it, it made him feel like he could take on the entire world. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and its age didn't show at all. It probably looked just as shiny and sharp as the day it was forged and blessed by all of those priests. The red cloth wrapped around the hilt made it comfortable enough to hold as well. It was a shame that such a beautiful piece of equipment came with something so terrible like the curse that was placed on it.

  Purdue flipped through the limited channels on the motel's television and saw the image of a caped man wielding a sword and fighting a horde of monsters. It was one of the Lord of the Rings films. The character Aragorn was battling a number of foes, swinging and slashing away at them with his sword. Purdue couldn't help but imagine that it was a situation similar to his own right now. He was a hero with a sword taking on a large number of disgusting, nasty creatures. Sure, the Black Sun members weren't exactly orcs, but they were close enough. And Purdue wasn't exactly a master swordsman like Aragorn either...if anything, when it came to using that weapon, he probably was as inept with it as the hobbits in the movie were.

  Purdue flipped a few more channels and watched Anthony Hopkins try and teach Antonia Banderas how to fence in the Mask of Zorro. As Purdue sat there, watching it with a sword in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a sense that he was being forced to see something—that he was meant to see this.

  He didn't know what was sending the message, but it was clear enough: if he was going to be stuck having to carry a sword around, then he should at least know how to use it. At the very least, it would be a more productive way to spend his time than sitting around watching television and worrying about the sword. If he was practicing with the sword, he wouldn't need to be nervous about it being near him.

  Purdue spent the next two hours looking up all kinds of information on his computer; all of the basics on how to use a medieval sword and step by step tutorials on the different stances and forms he should take when using it. Part of him felt like a buffoon. There probably weren't many people around this day and age who were practicing swordplay in the middle of their cheap motel room. Then again, probably not many people had to rely on a sword to protect their lives.

  Over the next few days, he studied everything from medieval sword forms, to fencing, to kendo, and far vaguer forms of swordplay. He crammed it all into his brain, practically downloading it. It wasn't an ideal way to learn things, but he didn't know if he had enough time to build himself a full-blown curriculum to follow. If he at least had a foundation, then maybe there would be something he could use if he had to in a fight.

  The blessings of the Scarlet Sword made things easier than they normally would have been. While holding the sword, he felt like he was in as good of physical condition as he possibly could be, more fit than he ever had been before. It made each swing of the sword smooth and precise. His body responded perfectly to every single one of his mental commands. Hopefully the sword's power would be enough to compensate for his minimal understanding of how to actually use a sword. If he could swing his sword faster and hit his opponent harder than he could be hit, then maybe he would have a chance in a duel.

  The only thing that made him nervous about having to someday fight someone with the sword was how easily he could be disarmed. Based on how he'd beaten Victor, all it took was one well-placed tackle to knock the blade out of his grip and possibly hand it over to an enemy. If that happened, it was game over. He had to be smarter than Victor had been. That hitman probably thought the sword's power was enough to make him practically invincible, but he was wrong. It wasn't nearly enough when he was actually in a real fight where anything could happen.

  Purdue needed to have some sort of countermeasure, something to make it hard for him to be disarmed. If he could improve that vulnerability, then that would be one less thing he'd have to worry about. He would just have to be concerned with the usual parts of a fight, like protecting his vital spots and beating the enemy before they beat him.

  After some thought, he settled on some sort of wrist strap. That would keep the sword from going flying out of his hands. Even if it left his grasp
, it would still be attached to him, therefore still in his possession. So that should be enough to avoid falling prey to the curse since he didn't actually lose the weapon, and people would have a harder time taking it from him if it was strapped to him.

  Sasha's return to the Order of the Black Sun's base was met with a mixed reception. Some looked relieved to see her, and she was reminded of how much respect she had garnered during her time there. It was a far cry from how it used to be in her early days as part of the order. If only those same happy faces knew the truth about what she was doing—but she was doing it for them. Betraying them for now was the only way to help them in the future. Julian needed to be dealt with and removed from power, and then those same happy faces would have real reason to be happy with her.

  There were a few that didn't look pleased to see her. She wasn't really sure why. Most of them were people she didn't know very well.

  Elijah Dane approached her as she stepped in, with a hand outstretched in front of him.

  “You were gone for quite some time,” Elijah said. She hadn't seen Elijah since he was standing in her way, the only person to see her listening in on Julian learning about Purdue's survival. Elijah had seen the panic in her eyes as she tried to sprint out of the facility. He'd almost kept her from leaving but stepped aside when she lied that she was going on an assignment. Now here he was again, in her way. He may have even told Julian what he saw. Elijah stared at her through the glass in front of his eyes and looked down at his hand expectantly. “So what did you bring me this time?”

  Any lesser operative would have cracked. They wouldn't have thought about actually needing evidence of the supposed assignment. They would be caught in their lie, empty handed, and would only raise suspicions more. Luckily, Sasha was far from being a lesser operative and wasn't the kind to make rookie mistakes. She reached into her pouch and plopped an old arrowhead into Elijah's waiting palm.

  It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Hopefully it was enough to prove her fake story.

  Elijah adjusted his glasses and examined the find. “Interesting. Where did you get this?”

  Someone else might have cracked then, but Sasha wasn't going to then either. “Found it buried in a beach on the coast of Norway.”

  Elijah looked at the arrowhead, but he held it up in front of her as he did. She felt like he was looking past the stone in his hand and was more likely examining her. Elijah was a smart man; no one would ever deny that, and she wouldn't have been surprised if all of this wasn't enough to fool him. But if he called her out, it would just be his word against hers. If anyone asked why she was listening in on the conversation that night and why she had left the base, she could probably think up another excuse. She would concoct something on the fly that would be enough to exonerate her.

  “Interesting,” he said again and cupped the arrowhead in his hand. “I'll have to give it a closer look back in the vaults. Anything special about it?”

  “Not that I've seen,” Sasha said. “But I'm sure you'll get a much closer look at it than the one I have had.”

  Elijah glanced to her. “Yes. I will get a much closer look.”

  The tension was practically painful, and she just wanted to ask him if he told anyone about bumping into her that night. She couldn't, though. It would just make things look even more suspicious. She would just have to roll with whatever punches were going to come, and hopefully Elijah had kept his mouth shut. He was usually a pretty quiet person, so hopefully he'd stayed that way in this situation.

  Elijah left with the arrowhead, and she stepped deeper into the bowels of the base. There were so many new faces. Some might even have been recruited in her short time being gone. Julian kept bolstering the Black Sun's ranks since he took control. It felt like they weren't carefully crafting an organization of like-minded individuals anymore. If anything, it felt more like they were building some secret army, and that was never what the order was supposed to be—at least not to her.

  As she wandered back to her usual sleeping quarters, she thought back to Purdue. She felt a little guilty leaving him behind back there with his cursed sword, but if she had lingered away too long, she would have needed to bring back something much better than an arrowhead to make her absence believable. People would get far too suspicious, especially now that Julian knew Purdue was alive. She knew him well enough to know that he must have been obsessing over how Purdue had made it out of that house alive. Julian's great fabled victory had been taken away from him, and he was probably having a lot of sleepless nights trying to figure out what happened.

  Hopefully Purdue could just keep a low profile and stay in that motel room. Preferably with the door locked and the blinds closed so no one could even remotely find him and where no one could even get close to getting the sword from him and bringing on the curse. If he was dumb enough to let the motel's housekeeping come and pick up the sword, then he deserved to die. Sadly, the maid who found it wouldn't deserve her terrible fate. The second she turned over the sword to her boss or to the police, she'd die from a heart attack.

  Sasha didn't know how long she was going to be home for. She couldn't leave Purdue to his own devices for too long, but she also couldn't just run back out immediately. She needed to find out more about what exactly Julian knew about Purdue first. Then she needed to find some sort of assignment to use as a cover for leaving again. If she played her cards right, no one would be any wiser about what she was up to. Not even Elijah would be able to catch her actually do anything, even if he was suspicious that something was going on with her.

  Purdue would just have to hold out for a while.

  8

  CHAPTER EIGHT - THE THREE HUNTERS AND THEIR PREY

  Between the three of them, the men had killed dozens, if not hundreds of people. None of them bothered to share their kill counts with the others, but just bringing them so close to each other’s brought a sense of dread and impending violence wherever they went—even to a small little coffee shop.

  Vincent and Torsten sat in one booth on one side of the table while the burly Clive took up most of the booth on the opposite side. To other people spending their morning there, the group of men probably looked like friends or business acquaintances. In reality, they were neither friends nor hardly even acquaintances. This was the first time they had to really work together, and it was taking everything Vincent Moore had to make sure their personalities didn't mix poorly like an explosive waiting to off. It would be very easy for that to happen. They were all very different people, with very distinct ways of getting their jobs done.

  Clive preferred being a human wrecking ball, just smashing his way to bring down whatever he wanted destroyed. Torsten was used to getting things done silently and from a distance, without anyone even knowing he was there at all. Vincent was a far more adaptable creature, doing whatever it took to get the job done; whether that meant getting into a gunfight that killed ten people or putting a bomb in the proper place. He knew he was meant to balance out his two companions.

  The toughest part of their mission so far had been transporting the ancient weapons they had chosen. It had to be in a discreet manner that wouldn't draw unwanted attention to themselves. Three bits of luggage rested underneath their table. Vincent hid his katana inside of a large duffle bag. Torsten's bow and a number of arrows were hidden inside of a backpack, turning the sack into something of a modern day quiver. And the hardest one to hide, Clive's bloodstained battle ax, was inside of the large case beside him. No one in the coffee shop had any idea just how well armed they were.

  “How much longer until you think we find him?” Clive asked, more loudly than Vincent wanted. It was hard to keep a big, mountain of a man quiet. “I'm bored of all of this looking around.”

  Vincent spoke calmly and softly, letting the other sporadic discussions in the shop drown out their own conversation. He didn't need someone overhearing what kind of work they did. He wasn't in the mood to deal with a panic. He was entirely focused o
n the job ahead.

  “Soon enough,” he said quietly.

  “And what are we going to do about this cursed sword of his?” Clive asked, again too loudly. “Julian made it sound like it will give him super powers.”

  Vincent balked at the idea. “No matter what otherworldly nonsense that sword gives him, David Purdue is still just a spoiled, silver spoon fed rich boy. He probably went decades without having to throw a punch. He's not like us. He won't be able to keep up with our combat experience once the fighting starts.”

  Torsten spoke up, much to his companions' surprise. “He seemed to have kept up with Victor just fine...and he had just as much training as we do.” He raised a fairly valid point.

  Vincent scratched his chin. “My brother had a bad habit of getting involved in things that he really shouldn't have. He should never have chosen the Scarlet Sword as his weapon. He knew the risks and did it anyway. And he probably did it just for the thrills. That was his fault. I'll be the first to admit that, and he suffered for that stupid blunder.”

  “You really think that your brother got what was coming to him?” Clive asked, looking baffled. “He was your broth--”

  “Blood or not...yes. Victor got himself into that mess. David Purdue would have never stood a chance if Victor had been using a different weapon, one that wouldn't kill him if he got disarmed. In the end, it wasn't Purdue that beat him. Victor lost because his own sword decided to cut him instead of his opponent.”

  Tosten and Clive nodded in agreement, seeming to understand what he was trying to say.

  “We're not going to screw up like he did. We've all dealt with targets that fought back before, and many have been more dangerous than David Purdue. He's only such a high priority right now because Julian needs to clean up the mess he made and can't do it himself.”