Templar Scrolls

by Jasmine Walt

  I had only known witches and wizards on the grounds of Camelot. I had never met one on the outside, though I knew they had been there. A witch or wizard off a ley line for too long was vulnerable, just like two Immortals who stayed together. If they had to move over great distances and couldn’t jump the wormhole of a ley line, it made sense that they’d need muscle as protection.

  “The mission of the knights predates the original Arthur, as does magic,” said Sir Kay. “There have always been brave men risking their lives to protect the magical kind. With the rise of the Roman Catholic Church, there also came the rise of men of opportunity. Those men don’t like the competition for their beliefs. Joseph de Paganis was indeed Hugues de Payens.”

  Mind. Blown. I’d stepped on the neck bone of a historical legend back in those caves. It was his suicide note that I held in my hands. Oh, what a museum wouldn’t give for this document. But Sir Kay wasn’t finished with his tale or his mental bomb droppings.

  “He was a descendant of a witch.”

  “And he was a traitor to his people,” Arthur said. “He joined with the Church and began searching out anything and anyone magical and erasing them from the world.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Same reason men fight over imaginary lines drawn in the sand,” said Arthur. “For power and dominion over each other. Now”—Arthur took another deep breath as though he were reaching out once more for patience—“will you read the scroll please?”

  I looked again at the scroll. Now that I knew the language I was working with, the words began to fit themselves together and take shape.

  “It begins ‘Dear Father, Forgive me for my sins. I have betrayed you, my father, my sister, and the Holy One. The serpent stole my heart and blinded my eyes. But even in my darkest hours I did not betray the Grail. It remains safe at home. I only hope that when I meet you in the Holy Kingdom, you can accept me back into your graces. Your son, Joseph de Paganis.’”

  “At home?” Sir Kay asked. “Which home?”

  “We searched Glastonbury,” Arthur said. “If the Grail were there, we would’ve found it.”

  “What about Champagne?” offered Sir Bedivere.

  Arthur shook his head. “Lady Merida still resides there. We were in contact with her just days ago.”

  “She is his descendant,” said Bedivere. “She may be keeping details from us. Her loyalty lies with her maternal ancestor. It’s worth a physical visit. To see if you can find anything.”

  Arthur thought for a moment. “Rest up. We’ll leave at first light.” Then he turned to me as though he’d forgotten I was there. “I don’t suppose we can part ways now and you won’t interfere?”

  “You’re a really smart man,” I said. “And you know I’m a smart woman, even though you’re only giving me partial clues. I know that champagne is not only a delicious beverage, it’s also a province in France. And it also happens to be the birthplace of Hugues de Payens.”

  “What do you want, Nia?”

  “What every educated, self-aware, self-sufficient woman wants—a little adventure. I’m coming along.”

  He took another breath. “Fine. We may still need your translation skills.”

  Worked for me.

  Arthur turned away from me and began planning with the other knights. Loren came up beside me.

  “Champagne, France?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “You sure you can handle France?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be able to handle France?”

  “You know…” She shrugged. “A certain Fine-Ass Frenchie who asked for space.”

  “I can go to France. He can’t have a whole country to himself.”

  She held up her hands. “Okay then.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay then.”

  15

  When I came down to the throne room the next morning, Loren was standing just outside the door looking at a portrait of a blond-haired knight. The placard in gold at the bottom read Sir Galahad, first of his name. Across his heart, he held a sword.

  Loren looked down at the tip of her father’s cane where her great-grandfather’s sword protruded. “I thought my mother left me with nothing but her hair color, eyes, and those bedtime stories. But in truth, she left me with a magical sword.”

  She held the sword up in the morning light. It twinkled.

  “Remember that part in the Arthur stories where the Lady in the Lake gives King Arthur Excalibur?” Loren said.

  “You mean the sword in the stone?” I asked.

  “No. He originally got it from her in the lake.”

  I didn’t know the Arthurian stories that well. When I knew that a story was based on the truth, I tended to go to the source instead of the fictional reference. I knew that the Knights of the Round Table all had swords that were imbued with magic. The magic in the swords would only respond to the knight it chose to handle it. For years, Loren had been wielding a magical sword and hadn’t known it.

  “When Arthur pulled the sword, he became king.” Her blue gaze met mine. “Since the Lady in the Lake gave it to me last night, do you think that makes me a queen?”

  I snorted.

  “At least a princess?”

  “This isn’t a kingdom anymore,” I said.

  “Maybe a knight, then? Sir Loren. I like the sound of that.”

  “Women can’t be knights,” Morgan said, coming up to stand beside us. “In the past, witches fought alongside the knights, like my grandmother Morgana. And even Arthur’s grandmother Mara. She was a great witch and fought off the Roman invaders. But after the Scottish North Berwick Witch Trials, the Arthurs felt it was better to keep us under lock and key than to allow us precious flowers to fight beside them in battle.”

  Morgan glared at the portraits of Arthur the Second, and beside it, his son Arthur the Third. Said Arthur approached alongside Geraint and Percival. Arthur eyed Morgan warily. But this morning, Morgan didn’t protest or press her cause. She rolled her eyes and headed down the hall as Gwin came down the staircase.

  “Be safe,” Morgan said as she embraced her sister.

  “There will be no danger,” said Gwin. “Very few even know about the chateau.”

  We were headed to Champagne, France. To the estate of Hugues de Payens, whom history believed started the Knights Templar, but who I’d just learned was truly named Joseph de Paganis. The estate was on a ley line. A witch of Gwin’s power could open a door and let us travel across the line that stretched from the castle to the chateau.

  Tension ran off Arthur’s shoulders as he eyed Gwin. I knew he wished there were a man who had this door-opening ability so he didn’t have to put a woman at risk.

  “Once we go through, you’ll stay by my side,” Arthur said to Gwin.

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “There should be no danger, but I won’t put your life at risk.”

  “I’ll do as you say.” She nodded, her expression docile and obedient.

  Arthur looked down. His forehead wrinkled. His hand fidgeted with the hilt of his sword. “When we get back, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you about the future.”

  Gwin nodded. Her countenance was businesslike, as was Arthur’s. “Yes, my lord.” And then her face froze.

  Over Arthur’s shoulder stood Lance. Lance and Gwin’s gazes caught and held. Lance looked at the closeness of his leader and the woman he was so clearly interested in. He clenched his jaw, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You should be resting,” Arthur said, turning to his second. “You’re not your best self yet.”

  Lance’s chin shot up in defiance. “I’m healed, and I can take my place. You need the manpower.”

  Arthur looked about to argue, but then decided against it.

  “This is so much better than my mother’s bedtime stories,” Loren whispered as we both stood by watching the drama unfold.

  We followed the three as they walked in a stiff triangle into the throne room. Ger
aint waited at a door on the far side of the room. Just stepping near the door made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “It’s the energy of the ley line,” Gwin said. “We are all energy beings beneath our skin. This is the stuff that our souls are made of. We all interact with it differently.”

  She turned to Loren.

  “You may be disoriented on the other side,” Gwin said. “It hits those with more human blood harder since they are the most diluted. I don’t mean that in an offensive way.”

  “None taken,” said Loren.

  “What about me?” I asked.

  “What about you?” Gwin asked.

  I opened my mouth to tell her that I didn’t have a soul, but the words wouldn’t come through my lips. They didn’t feel right. Plus, I’d had no trouble traveling by ley line the other night. Maybe Aleph, the oldest Immortal, was wrong. She believed we didn’t have souls because we were not humans. She believed we came from angels.

  Igraine came into the room holding a piece of dark material in her hand. She handed it to Gwin. “I almost forgot. You’ll need this.”

  The shawl was made of fine lace, woven intricately. The color was black as a shadow. It was a widow’s shawl. “What’s this for?” Gwin frowned.

  “To give your condolences, of course. Lady Merida is with your husband now.”

  We all stared at Igraine. Her gaze was clouded over. She was in a trance. She was seeing a vision.

  Gwin looked to Arthur, who drew his sword. A chorus of metal becoming unsheathed sounded all around us. The men stepped forward and opened the door. It was black inside, but the wind howled, trying to suck me in. Gwin closed her eyes and began a chant.

  The energy in the room increased. It was like drinking the strongest shot of espresso in my life. Make that a double.

  One by one, we went in. First Arthur and Gwin. I was caught up in the middle, after Lance and between Loren and Geraint. Stepping into the darkness, I felt like I’d been sleeping my whole life. The moment the energy sparked my blood was when I woke up.

  Inside the darkness, I was blinded by a light. It was bright, but it didn’t hurt my eyes. It was soft. When I took another step, it was gone, and I felt an aching sense of loneliness.

  “You okay?” I asked Loren once I caught my breath.

  She stared at me in a daze. Then she blinked. Her body shuddered like a current went through it. I reached out to touch her, and energy zapped my fingers like I’d stuck my hand into a socket.

  “Ow.” I jerked my hand away from her.

  We both stared at my red fingertip. Loren’s eyes were bright like she’d taken a hit of some good drugs. She turned back to the door, but the light had returned to darkness. The energy had died. Geraint closed the door and ushered us on.

  We were in a small chapel, but the room looked as though it had gone through a hurricane.

  “Templars,” Arthur growled.

  “How could they know to come to this place?” asked Geraint. “History records that de Payens was on their side. They shouldn’t have thought to look for the Grail here.”

  “Regardless of whether he repented or not,” Arthur said, “he was a traitor to his kind. We need to find Lady Merida.”

  “Who’s Lady Merida?” Loren asked.

  As if she heard her name spoken, a woman moaned. The knights rushed toward the sound.

  An elderly woman was sprawled out on the floor, left discarded like a doll after a child’s rough play. Arthur hurried to her, kneeling and cradling her weak frame in his arms.

  “Gwin,” Arthur called. “We need your help.”

  But Gwin stood frozen in place, looking down at the woman.

  “Gwin,” snapped Arthur.

  But she didn’t budge. She stared down at the woman, her lips trembling, her eyes watering.

  Lance approached her, taking her face in his hand. “Gwin,” he said gently. “She needs you.”

  “I can’t,” sobbed Gwin.

  “Of course you can,” Lance said. “You’re the bravest woman I know, the strongest, too. Your magic will heal her. It will save her life.”

  But Gwin shook her head, the tears falling in earnest now.

  “Gwin, she’ll die if you don’t—”

  “You don’t understand,” Gwin said. “My magic can’t help her. I can only heal those who have magic.”

  “She’s a witch,” Lance said, sounding confused. “Magic flows through her veins.”

  Gwin shook her head. “Her powers are gone.”

  “That’s not possible,” Arthur said.

  “Dark magic,” whispered Geraint. His voice was tinged with horror.

  “Dark magic?” I asked.

  It wasn’t a word I’d heard often, not since the rule of the first Arthur. Witches and wizards abided by a code. They healed, they helped, and they made things better. In essence, it was much like the Hippocratic Oath of do no harm. That was, of course, unless harm was heading their way. Dark magic was dangerous, abusive, deadly. It was only used to hurt, to weaken, and to kill.

  “But who?” Arthur said.

  It was then Lady Merida whispered a single word. A word that took all the air out of the room. After a moment, she said it again. It was the last word she spoke as she took her final breath.

  “Merlin.”

  16

  The rain came down in light pats as the fire outside the chateau blazed. I watched from the window as Geraint stoked the flames, keeping them burning bright as the fire consumed Lady Merida’s body.

  “He would’ve died if I hadn’t done it,” Gwin said.

  “But it’s dark magic,” Arthur said.

  Gwin shook her head. “I don’t believe magic has a light or dark side. That comes from the user.”

  “He’s the one who’s dark,” growled Lance. “You should not have allowed him to violate you in such a way.”

  The fire outside flared brighter behind Lance as though to punctuate his statement. As Gwin had said before we’d walked into a door and across a ley line, magic was the energy within us. That energy could transport a body across space and time. It could be imbued into objects directly by witches, or through the perpetual worship of ordinary human beings. And, apparently, it could be siphoned from one person into another.

  Merlin had siphoned what was left of the elder witch’s magic and left her to die. It fit the pattern that he had probably done this with the dead witch Gwin and Arthur had found days earlier. And most likely the other unsolved cases of missing elder and off-grid witches for the last two decades. It was a tactic he’d learned from Gwin. But she had used it for good. She had given him some of her magic when he was ill to keep him alive.

  “He didn’t violate me,” Gwin protested, but her certainty sounded strangled as the words came from her throat. “He would’ve died if I hadn’t done it. I did what I had to do to protect our people and their heir.”

  I turned to Arthur. Her words sounded so much like his. Arthur, who had last night sent a man into the dungeons to be tortured until he gave up information. He’d done it to protect his people, he’d said. Arthur grit his jaw as he took in the situation before him.

  “That parasitic bastard still has you brainwashed,” said Lance, not caring he was calling out his leader’s flesh and blood. “Even after all these years.”

  Fire flashed in Gwin’s eyes. “I have my own mind. Just because it doesn’t tell me to do what you want doesn’t mean I can’t think for myself.”

  I had never seen this side of Gwin. Apparently, Lance had, because he stepped up to her, toe to toe.

  “He took advantage of your good heart. You could never see when someone was trying to manipulate you.”

  “At least he cared enough to try,” Gwin shot back.

  Lance turned his face aside as though she’d slapped him.

  “That’s enough, you two,” Arthur said, coming between them.

  Lance paced to the other side of the room away from us all. Gwin watched him go. The fire in her
eyes died and turned to a remorseful longing as she watched him retreat.

  “You told me he was still alive,” Arthur said to her. “This is how you knew?”

  Gwin nodded. “I suspected, but I didn’t know for sure. I could feel the link with him since he shares some of my spirit. It had grown weaker and weaker over the years, but I still felt something of him.”

  In the corner, Lance made a noise that sounded like he was choking.

  “You should’ve come to me, Gwin,” Arthur said.

  “I did,” she protested.

  “No.” Arthur shook his head. “Before this. After he asked for your very soul.”

  “In sickness and health, for better or worse—it’s all part of the marriage contract.” Gwin looked down at her hands. “You’ve said many times that a good knight always puts the good of the kingdom before himself.”

  “You’re not a knight.”

  She looked up at him with a wry smile that reminded me of her sister. “Yes, I am. Just because I don’t carry a sword and run off into battle doesn’t mean I’m not. Just like you said to Morgan the other night—we’re at war, and we must tend to those who have fallen, not leave them behind.”

  Arthur shook his head and pointed out the window at the raging fire. “This was wrong, Gwin. He’s siphoning off their power and taking it for himself.”

  “Like some kind of vampire,” muttered Lance.

  “I’m sure he did it to survive,” Gwin said.

  “Tell that to Lady Merida,” Lance said hotly. “Tell that to Lady Circe. Tell that to the family we found months ago who was murdered. We thought it was the Templars, but there was something off about it. I should’ve smelled that weasel—”

  “Enough,” Arthur said.

  “He did this,” Lance said, advancing toward his leader. “He’s after the Grail. And if he gets his hands on it and its power…”

  Arthur ran his hands over his face. “We’ll find the Grail before he does. Sir Joseph must’ve left a clue, something, here.”

  “What might a clue look like?” Loren asked. She was standing off in a corner looking up. “Maybe something out of place? Maybe something from Arthurian Legends in a French chateau?”