The Templar's Curse

by Sarwat Chadda

  The black and white photos showed Victorian day-trippers climbing over semi-submerged ruins. The cliffs themselves showed the aftermath of the collapse, one slope was still grassy and the remains of a row of houses were still visible, despite the years that had already passed. But beyond, tottering precariously on the highest part of the cliff, sections already collapsed, was the ancient Norman castle. The seaward walls were gone, the smaller buildings too, leaving the original keep and sections of a road and a gatehouse still whole. It was a classic late Norman build, the type found everywhere from here to Sicily. There’d been several extensions over the centuries. A Tudor chapel and the converted stables looked Georgian. It would have been glorious in its day.

  “And since this photo was taken?” asked Faustus.

  Billi pointed to a newspaper front page framed on the wall. The East Anglia Herald’s headline was simple and stark: The end of Hollburgh!

  “Ten years ago. A long stretch of the cliff gave way and since then the castle’s been out of bounds. Too dangerous. You still get people taking day trips here for a picnic and splash around but there are better villages and prettier beaches elsewhere along the coast. You should see the state of the road in. Potholes everywhere and the tarmac’s cracked. You need a four-by-four to reach the village now. Or what’s left of it.”

  Faustus was still gazing at the old photo. “How many died when it first collapsed?”

  “A few families. People were already abandoning it by then. You think there’ll be ghosts? After all this time?”

  “What does time matter to a ghost? The question is, can we can get them to help us?”

  Billi gazed at him warily. “You got a way of making that happen?”

  “We need all the help we can get and your shiny sword ain’t going to be enough, Billi.”

  “You forgotten what I did to those demons back at the cemetery?”

  “No, and neither will Reggie. Tonight’s his big night and he’ll not want any interruptions. He’ll be bringing out the big guns.”

  So his answer would be to call on the dead himself? Seems like that was solving one problem by creating a bigger one. “It’s risky.”

  “That’s because you have no idea what we’re up against,” said Faustus. “Reggie uses the power of the Anunnaki, the old ones. They are entities not of this universe. Reality is nothing to them, their presence here would tear it apart so we need to take those risks. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of things my end, if it comes to it.”

  Billi nodded. She had to trust Faustus on this one. She would do things her way, and he would do his things his way. “You sure you want to tag along on this?”

  “You know why I picked the name Faustus?”

  Billi shook her head.

  “You know the story of Johan Faustus? It’s an old German legend. He’s a good man, but wants to be better. So he makes a deal with the Devil. All with the best of intentions. He loses it all in the end, of course.”

  Billi nodded. “I’ve heard the story.”

  “That was me, Billi. I made deals with people I shouldn’t have. People who used me, people who I trusted. You’re a kid living on the streets. You don’t have many choices. Every time it happened I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for it again, but you hope. Hope leads to damnation. It may be a sad way of looking at the world, but that’s my experience. But you’re different. You don’t make deals. You’re a take it or leave it kinda girl.”

  “I’m not sure I like that about myself.”

  “You don’t bargain. You don’t haggle. You don’t make false promises. You’ve walked the vale of darkness. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  “That’s not a good thing, Faustus. I’ve got people I cared about killed. You know that about me.”

  “And yet here we are. You never demand more than you’d sacrifice yourself. If anyone’s going to get my soul out of Hell, when the time comes, it’ll be you. I suppose that’s why I’m here.”

  She picked up the Templar sword, still in its scabbard, and swung it over her shoulder. “Then I guess we’d better get a move on.”

  “I’d feel a lot happier if we had one or two reinforcements.”

  She’d thought about it long and hard. Her dad and the other older knights were all the way in Dublin, no point contacting them as he’d tell her to wait until he was back, and that would be too late. And the squires? She’d only get them killed and she didn’t want to be dealing with that. She knew if she’d asked they would have come running, there was no doubting their courage but they weren’t ready. She’d spend her time worrying about them and that would get her killed. “I think you and I can handle the apocalypse.”

  CHAPTER 25

  They abandoned the VW a mile from the village. The tarmac had crumbled apart under the assault of the great tentacles of tree roots and weeds leaving massive potholes and jagged edges ready to rip the tyres apart. The letter ‘O’ on the village sign for Hollburgh had been painted over with an ‘E’ and morbid decorations hung from the branches. Dolls swayed on nooses, there were mobiles built out of animal bones and wind-chimes made of rusty scissors and kitchen knives. A scarecrow stood at the roadside, a sheep’s skull for a head. Its crooked fingers pointed towards the distant village and around its neck hung a sign.

  Abandon all hope.

  Faustus flicked one of the chimes to set it rattling. “I can see a theme developing here.”

  “It’s like Disneyland for goths. This place must be real popular for Halloween beach parties.”

  “You can hold my hand if you’re scared, Billi,” he said, smiling. “I don’t mind.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your hand if we were standing at the gates of Hell. But thanks for offering.”

  Billi adjusted her sword belt. The Templar sword hung off her left hip and there was a long dagger dangling from the right, a 15th century Venetian stiletto, an assassin’s weapon. She gripped the hilt over and over again, sliding it half out its sheath, checking it would draw smoothly when she needed it. It was nerves, nothing more. The waiting was the worst part. The tension would only go when weapons were finally drawn, not exactly a healthy life-style. She really should find a hobby to help her relax. Knitting was pretty trendy nowadays and maybe holding the needles would satisfy her natural craving for weaponry.

  When had she started down this road? Boys were bought toy guns but most, sensibly, grew out of them. It was worse than having a mere enthusiasm for weapons of war, she felt incomplete without them. That was the path of addiction. Like others who needed drink, drugs or sex to fill the void, she needed… danger. Violence, even. She needed conflict.

  What about Faustus? What did he crave? She glanced over at him and caught him looking at her, smiling to himself. Billi scowled. “Don’t make that face. You look gormless.”

  “That’s what I love about you, Billi. Every interaction is an opportunity for a fight. You don’t need to try quite so hard. I know I’m charming, just give in to it.”

  Billi shook her head. “Anyone tell you that you’re delusional? I am all but engaged to a prince. Whom I am literally off to rescue.”

  “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m happy to wait.”

  “Ivan talked about us retiring together in some dacha in the Ural Mountains. He has plans.”

  “He has plans? What about you?”

  “Suddenly getting out of this life sounds like a great idea.”

  Faustus’s attention became more serious. “You’re never getting out of this life, Billi. It suits you too much and you have a gift.”

  “I don’t like my gift.”

  “We don’t get a choice, sometimes. You think I wanted this life? Sharing my world with the dead? You know how many ghosts are out there? They’re not all lurking rattling chains with their heads tucked under their elbows. Sometimes it’s just a gloom hanging over a place. The sun could be shining, there are pretty girls sitting on park benches but you just feel wei
ghed down by things you can’t do anything about. That wears you down and sometimes you think what’s the point? They’re all pleading for you to help them, but how? They’re long gone and the sins that brought them to that place, between this life and the next, no one remembers. There’s no criminal left to punish, no injustice left to mend.”

  “Does it hurt, Faustus? Seeing what you see?”

  “All the time.” The weight of his gift only allowed him a little shrug. “The more you try and ignore them the more they demand your attention. They know you can see them, can hear them. All those sad, lonely spirits wandering a world that’s forgotten them. They’re like the gravestones at the back of an old parish cemetery. Overgrown and no one left who knew who they were. No one cares.”

  No one but you.

  He must know that, mustn’t he? Faustus reminded her so much of Kay. Not just because of their abilities, but they felt things honestly. How many times did you just pretend to feel? She lived in London, she was a Knight Templar. She was meant to help the poor, the weak. But what happened when she saw a beggar on the street? Sitting there with their empty coffee cup and cardboard sign with some story or another? Did she care? No. She looked away, pretended not to notice, got on with her own life, off to do something more important. She told herself she couldn’t take care of everyone, but had she even tried? She helped out at soup kitchens, all the Templars did, but that was just to make her feel better. That wasn’t real charity. Charity was putting yourself out for a stranger.

  You’re trying to save them all.

  But that wasn’t charity, that wasn’t goodness, not when you didn’t have a choice.

  Faustus had a choice. He didn’t need to be here but he’d come because of her. She didn’t want to matter to him, because she wasn’t sure he mattered to her. Not enough.

  Faustus was alone, but she wasn’t right for him. He was too much like Kay.

  She hadn’t saved Kay. She couldn’t save Faustus.

  The village lay up ahead.

  She should have decided this earlier. “You need to go, Faustus. I’ll handle it from here.”

  “Er… what?” He shook his head as if clearing out a misunderstanding. “Is this to avoid any awkwardness when we save your boyfriend? I promise to be utterly discreet. What happens during the apocalypse stays in the apocalypse.”

  “Nothing actually happened during the apocalypse, Faustus.” How could he be so conceited? Did girls fall for such arrogance? Or was it just nerves? People hid their fear in many ways.

  “It’s still early and I’m keeping my options open.”

  “I’m being serious. Go home. I can handle it from here.”

  “How?”

  “How? The old-fashioned way. Faith and steel.”

  “Against the Anunnaki? And Reggie? You think an exorcism is going to work on him? It ain’t. His power comes from another source and it’s got nothing to do with your Christian rituals. This is old-school. I mean the original school.”

  “So you’re saying his god’s bigger than mine?”

  “I’m saying he doesn’t care about gods at all. And that sword? You really willing to use it on Erin when the time comes? She may be possessed by Reggie but when you look into those bright blue eyes of hers, what are you going to do? You going to hesitate and in that moment Reggie will kill you.”

  “So I bring you along so you can do it for me?”

  “I’m the only one who can save Erin and you know it,” said Faustus. “You’ve got no other plan, have you?”

  “Since when have I ever worried about a plan? I was just gonna barge in and make the rest up on the fly.”

  “That approach work for you?”

  “Your enemy can’t predict what you’re planning if you have no plan.”

  He laughed. “Chaos rules, eh?”

  “It always does.” She wasn’t going to win this one. “Come on, then.”

  They walked the cobblestone streets of empty Hollburgh. Nature had taken back the village. Trees had sprouted within the ruined houses, pushing through walls, ripping through the old, moss-covered slate roofs. So much of the cliff had collapsed that the streets and buildings ran into the sea. Black rotten posts stuck out of the sea, waves broke against barnacle-embedded walls and there was a church spire half-rising out of the water. By some freak it hadn’t collapsed and still stood as straight as the day it had been built. The divine had done some serious intervening on that one.

  Seagulls nested in the exposed eaves. Crabs scuttled across the cobbles. The doorways were draped with seaweed curtains. When the tide came in the whole village would once again vanish.

  Two centuries had passed since anyone had lived there, but that didn’t mean it had been left alone, not entirely.

  Someone had pasted a series of photos to one wall. In defiance of the sea and the sun, images lingered of a young man and woman, close up and grinning. Though much of the image had faded there was a light in their eyes that couldn’t be diminished by time nor tide.

  “Will you look at that,” said Faustus, his gaze raised to the clifftop.

  So Billi did.

  A kilometre further along the beach the cliff had split, sheering away from the mainland. Hollburgh castle, what was left of it, clung precariously to the section now leaning over the sea, only connected to the mainland by what looked like a temporary scaffolding bridge. The battlements along the sea face had collapsed into the sea and taking a number of buildings with them, chunks of wall, partial foundations were visible in the exposed cliff face. It was as if a mythic titan had risen out of the waves, grabbed hold of the castle and tried to tear it away from the rest of the land, leaving a forty-metre-wide cleft at the top.

  “That bridge looks rickety,” said Faustus.

  He wasn’t wrong, but it was also the only way in.

  No lights. She’d expected some signs of life. The only movement came from a pair of flags flapping from the top of the keep, one bearing the cross of St. George and the other the FitzRoy family crest. Billi peered through the binoculars she’d taken from the cottage. “The keep looks in good nick, the rest of the castle not so much. There are a few outbuildings that don’t look totally ruined but the eastward side of the castle has completely fallen into the sea. Give it another few decades and the keep will be gone too. The walls are already badly cracked and one of the turrets has fallen down. But I can’t see anyone.”

  “Who are you expecting?”

  “Reggie and his friends.”

  “Like those asakku demons?” asked Faustus.

  “Or worse. This is the big finale, isn’t it? Reggie’s spent a hundred years trying to get to this point and he won’t want us interrupting.” Billi gestured to the path leading up the cliff and towards the castle. “Let’s go spoil his day in the worst way possible.”

  They hiked up the slope as the drizzle grew heavier. The wind up here bit the skin, nipping the ears and making your eyes water. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their wings outspread and riding the currents. There were a few small cottages up here, long abandoned as being too close to the edge. The long grass and weeds all but hid the path and the only other creature they saw was an adder curled up amongst the thistles.

  And then they were at the bridge. The gate was chained and padlocked and the sign was bold.

  No trespassers. Building at risk of collapse.

  Billi peered over the edge. It was a long drop down onto the rocks. “We can climb over the gate and then just across the bridge. I can’t see any cameras.”

  “Seems easy enough.”

  Yeah, it did, didn’t it? Squatted on the cliff edge Billi gazed across the bridge. The scaffolders had done a good job. It was a single span of forty metres but secured on both sides. The floorboards were packed together and clamped in place, no risk of them blowing away during a sea storm, and the railings either side had netting, an additional security to prevent anything slipping over the side. You couldn’t have asked fo
r a more thorough job.

  But if I was an ancient occultist about to carry out a diabolical ritual summoning a host of beings from another realm I’d want more security than a mere padlock on a gate.

  Billi unbuckled her sword-belt and handed it over to Faustus, along with the binoculars. “Wait here. I need to have a better look.”

  “Look at what?”

  She didn’t answer but instead slipped down the slope a few metres to the underside of the bridge. Balancing on a diagonal support Billi reached out and took hold of one of the horizontal supports and shuffled along.

  The moonlight slipped down between the floorboards and bounced off the sea, giving Billi enough light to make her way along to the next scaffolding pole and with her toes just balanced on the frame built into the cliff.

  You tricky bastard, Reggie.

  Billi slid back and a few moments later was beside Faustus, buckling on her belt. “We can’t cross the bridge. He’s undone all the support clamps. We wouldn’t get halfway across before the whole thing would come crashing down.”

  “Then what are we going to do? There’s no other way into the castle.”

  “There is.” Billi gazed out towards the black, ragged cliffs. “But you’re not gonna like it.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “You are shitting me. I am not going up that way,” said Faustus as he gazed up the seaward cliff-face. “It’s suicide and you know it.”

  “Come on. It’s barely a V4.”

  “A what?”

  She stood beside him, appraising the black, rain-swept rock. She sucked her teeth as she saw how the cliff evolved the higher it rose. “It’s a way of grading climbs. What we’ve got is a very severe. Maybe hard very severe around that outcrop in the middle.”