The Templar Chronicles Omnibus

by Joseph Nassise

  Duncan realized that he was either going to be handed off to the men in the ship or the two of them were going to take a trip somewhere together.

  It turned out to be the later.

  Bishop dragged him down to the waterline and there they waited for the longboat to reach them. As it drew closer Duncan could see that there were two men working the oars, while a third stood in the prow holding a lantern, lighting the way.

  When they reached the beach the oarsmen jumped out and dragged the vessel up into the beach, allowing the other to disembark without setting foot in the water. The leader strode across the sand and greeted Bishop in a language Duncan didn’t understand. The other man obviously did though, for he responded in the same tongue.

  He was quite large, seven feet at least, Duncan guessed, with the girth to match. He was dressed in clothes that belonged in another century, high-waisted pants and a ruffled shirt, with sailor’s boots on his feet and a thick cloak with a hood tied about his neck to complete the image.

  Duncan couldn’t see his face but when the other turned in his direction he could see eyes of blazing red there in the darkness beneath the hood. The Templar knight was suddenly happy that that was all that he could see.

  Bishop and the newcomer conversed for a few minutes, with Bishop growing angrier with each response he received, until at last he was shouting.

  The other man refused to budge, however, and Bishop finally had no choice but to give in.

  Calling the other man a thief and a whore beneath his breath, Bishop reached inside his shirt and produced a small cloth pouch which he then handed to the newcomer. The other man, if that was indeed what he actually was, slipped it into the pocket of his cloak without opening it and then gestured toward the longboat behind him.

  It was clearly an invitation.

  With a harsh yank on the chains, which forced Duncan to stumble forward to keep up, Bishop strode down the beach and stepped aboard the boat.

  No sooner were they aboard than the crew pushed the boat back out into the surf, jumped aboard, and headed back toward the galleon waiting in deeper waters.

  “You’ve heard of the Flying Dutchman?” Bishop asked, while staring out across the bay.

  Duncan nodded, not taking his eyes off the ship that was rapidly looming closer. Having grown up on the coast and having spent considerable time on the water as a child, the legend of that spectral ship forever doomed to sail the world’s oceans was one he’d learned of at an early age.

  “You’re about to board the vessel on which the legend is based. She’s known as the Black Rose and if ever there was a ship that was damned, this is it.” Bishop turned to face him, a sneer plastered across his face. “You should be honored. You’re the first passenger they’ve had in more than five hundred years. Living passenger, that is.”

  Apparently the crew understood the joke for they all laughed along with Bishop and the sound made Duncan’s skin crawl.

  It didn’t take them long to cross the bay and reach the galleon. As they came abreast of the ship, a rope was thrown over the side and caught by Red Eyes where he stood in the prow. Without a word to his passengers he turned and hauled himself up to the deck high above. The remaining crew members stared at Bishop and Duncan, making it clear that they were expected to board the ship in the same fashion.

  Duncan lifted his hands toward Bishop.

  “There’s no way I can climb that rope while wearing these things. If you want me to get up there, you’re gonna have to unlock them.”

  Bishop laughed. “You can climb or you can die. Your choice.” Reaching behind him, he grabbed the rope and quickly climbed out of reach.

  “Son of a….” Duncan fumed, but there was little that he could do. Knowing the crew would probably toss him overboard if he didn’t follow orders, he grabbed the rope, planted one foot against the side of the boat, and started upward.

  His injured shoulder screamed at him, but he ignored it as much as he could. He didn’t have any choice. He knew the others wouldn’t wait forever; at some point they were going to get annoyed and simply cut the rope, letting him drop, chains and all, into the water below. If that happened, he was dead. The weight of the chains would drag him under and he’d drown. He had to reach the top, by whatever means possible, before that happened.

  By leaning back against the rope and shifting his hands slowly upward a few inches at a time, he found he could walk himself, one step at a time, up the side of the ship. The weight of the chains pulled at him, threatened to peel him right off the side of the ship, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and shouldered on.

  When he reached the top, rough hands grabbed him and pulled him over the rail. He collapsed in exhaustion, the sweat pouring off him and his arms straining from the pain.

  The two crew members who’d brought them back from the beach swarmed up the sides of the ship and the longboat itself was hauled up immediately after them.

  Captain Red Eyes strode to the middle of the deck and gave a hoarse shout and the crew jumped to obey his command. Deck hands scrambled up the masts, unfurling great black sails that flapped in the breeze that had suddenly sprung up from nowhere as if at the captain’s command, and the navigator spun the wheel to take advantage of it.

  A strange sound caught Duncan’s attention. It was coming from somewhere above him and when he looked up to see what it was, he couldn’t help but gasp.

  Faces could be seen in the surface of the sails. Faces of men, women, and children, rising to the surface and disappearing again into the depths, faces of the damned screaming in pain and horror and it was their cries that he’d heard.

  For the first time since he’d been captured he had the feeling that he was on his own. Not even God seemed to hear him in this hellish place. As he listened to the cries of the damned and watched the ship carve its way through the seas, he wondered if this was it, if the last thing he would ever see would be the faces of the infernal crew around him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  As the first of the guards reached past Cade for the girl hiding behind him, the Templar warrior made his decision. He didn’t know if the girl was simply a girl, or something more, but right now the guardsmen posed a much bigger threat than she did.

  Maybe the guard didn’t expect resistance. Maybe he was stupid. Maybe he was just used to getting his own way. Whatever the reason, he was completely unprepared for what happened next.

  As the brute reached past Cade, intent on getting a good grip on his intended quarry, the Templar knight drew his weapon and, stepping back, brought it slashing down at the man’s exposed arm.

  There was a moment of resistance and then the guard’s severed arm dropped to the pavement with a wet plop.

  For a second there was silence.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Blood spurted from what was left of the man’s arm, drenching Cade’s stolen robe in a fountain of gore. A scream burst from the man’s mouth at the same time but Cade was already in motion, having expected it. He kicked the man’s legs out from under him, reversed his grip on his sword in one fluid motion, and then drove the blade downward through the man’s mouth and out the back of his skull, cutting the sound off in mid-cry.

  Riley was moving too, his sword moving in a sweeping arc toward the other member of the security detail, ready to end the fight before it really began.

  But the other guard reacted quicker than either Riley or Cade anticipated. He blocked Riley’s blow with his own weapon, snatching a strange-looking horn from his belt with his other hand as he did so. As Riley spun back toward him for another strike, the man raised the horn to his lips and blew.

  The horrifying shriek issued forth from the other end of the horn, a shriek that was abruptly cut off when Riley expertly parried the man’s half-hearted attack and then sank his sword into the soft spot beneath the man’s face mask, severing his airway.

  As the brute collapsed at their feet next to his former partner both men froze, listening inten
tly.

  Had they been heard?

  For a moment it was quiet, blessedly quiet, and then, from a few blocks away, came the answering cry of another horn. No more than a moment passed before several other horns joined their voices to the first.

  The alarm had been given. Cade didn’t doubt that the streets would be full of similar guards in mere moments, but he had absolutely no idea about which way to go. For all he knew, the road before him led right to the guardhouse itself.

  Despite his hesitancy, or perhaps because of it, the child they’d just acted to save took charge.

  “This way!” the girl shouted. “Hurry!”

  Neither Cade nor Riley needed to be told twice. They took off at a dead run, following the girl as she weaved a zigzagging route through the darkened city streets, and before long both of the Echo team members were hopelessly lost.

  Shouts sounded from off in the distance behind them and they knew the guardsmen’s bodies had been found. Pursuit wouldn’t be far behind.

  The girl moved confidently forward and at last they came to a rundown, boarded-up structure that stood at the end of a narrow alley. Several of the walls appeared to have been blackened by fire and the stink of soot and burnt flesh hung about the place. The girl disappeared around one side of the structure and the two knights followed. They were just in time to see her push through a doorway half-hidden in the shadows of the nearby buildings.

  They stood there a moment, debating, and when they didn’t immediately follow she stuck her head back out the doorway. “Hurry!” she cried.

  The two men really had no choice but to comply.

  They found themselves inside what had once been a restaurant or tavern, some kind of eating establishment. A long bar made of some kind of dark wood, oak or mahogany maybe, stretched down the length of the room and several dusty chairs stood at intervals in front of it. A number of tables and several chairs were scattered throughout the rest of the room, all appearing to have been made entirely from wood, but from the thick layer of dirt and dust that covered them it was immediately obvious that they hadn’t been used for some time. The smell of ash was stronger here though there was no sign of the fire that had consumed part of the exterior.

  The girl closed the door behind them, held a finger to her lips, and then backed away from the entrance, never once taking her eyes off the door.

  Riley and Cade followed suit.

  Outside, from the streets, came the sounds of pursuit; men yelling, the tramp of booted feet, even the howl of strange beasts that had apparently been brought in to track them.

  Quietly, the Templars drew their weapons, getting ready to defend themselves should their hiding place be discovered.

  For a moment, when the creatures outside suddenly began howling in unison, Cade was afraid they’d been found. He braced himself, ready to take down the first intruder through the door, but then the baying receded into the distance and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I think they’re gone,” Riley whispered and Cade agreed.

  The girl giggled behind them.

  Cade spun around and nearly crashed into a short, stocky fellow who had crept up behind them when their attention was on the pursuers outside. Shocked at the man’s sudden appearance, Cade went instantly on guard, the tip of his sword only inches from the man’s throat.

  “Whoa, now! Take it easy there, friend. I didn’t mean to creep up on you.” He held up his hands in a warding off gesture and smiled to show he meant no harm.

  “Who are you? What did you do with the girl?” Cade asked.

  The newcomer laughed. “The girl? You mean my daughter, Penelope?”

  At the sound of her name the girl poked her head out from behind the man’s thick frame, a shy smile on her face.

  “Why, she’s right here. And as for who I am, my name’s Malevarius and you’re standing in my home.”

  Cade relaxed a little, pulling his sword away from the man’s throat but not putting it down completely.

  “They helped me escape from the Dreadnoughts, Father. They killed two of them, right before my eyes.”

  “Two of them now, did they?” For a moment the man’s genial expression changed to one of sharp interest, but then the mask was back and the smile flashed a second time.

  Introductions were made and once it was established that neither side meant the other any harm, the two Templar knights were invited to stay for the evening meal. Knowing they couldn’t return to the city streets while the patrols were still searching for them, Cade saw no harm in agreeing.

  Dinner was a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar foods, from the sliced apples that Penelope produced from some hidden pocket inside her shift to the bowl of grayish gruel that Malevarius served them with more than a hint of pride. Cade decided against asking what was in it; the way it seemed to shift and churn of its own accord made him less than anxious to know.

  An hour later, their meal finished, Cade took the opportunity to question their host.

  “What is this place?”

  Malevarius looked around fondly at the ruins of the tavern in which they sat and it was clear that he loved the old place almost as much as he loved his daughter. “Once, it was the finest tavern in all New England. The Black Rose. People came from throughout the Colonies to drink our ale and catch a taste of my wife’s mutton pie.”

  Cade looked around, trying to reconcile the man’s description with the ruins in which they sat. “What happened? How’d you end up here?”

  “I don’t know. There was a fire; I know that. I remember the heat and the flames. I remember escaping into the cold night air with my wife at my side, only to realize that our daughter was still trapped inside. I went back for her.” The barman shrugged. “There was the crack of timbers and the next thing I know Penelope and I are here, in this place, with what was left of the Rose still smoldering around us.”

  For a moment Malevarius’ eyes took on a far-off expression and Cade knew he was remembering other times, other places. But then the barman shook himself out of it.

  “And the city? Did all of its buildings arrive in a similar fashion?”

  Malevarius grinned. “So you noticed the rather eclectic nature of our fine city?” He turned serious. “The City of Bones it’s called, though personally I think the City of Lost Souls would be a more appropriate moniker. As far as I know it’s always been here and probably always will. It changes from time to time, buildings appearing and disappearing overnight, but the city itself remains the same, a haven for the lost and the damned, perched here at the edge of the Sea of Shades.”

  Cade wondered just how much he could ask this man.

  Sensing his hesitation, Malevarius said, “Come now. You saved my daughter. I’m in your debt. How can I help you?”

  Cade and Riley exchanged glances. Did they dare trust this man? They needed someone who knew the city, someone who could guide them to the most likely places hiding places, someone who understood the ins and outs of life here in the city. What other choice did they have?

  “We’re searching for a friend of ours who was brought here last night against his will. He’s in the company of another man who is holding him prisoner.” Cade described them both, and then said, “We lost their trail shortly after entering the city and it’s vital that we track them down quickly.”

  Malevarius listened intently and when Cade was finished the barman called his daughter to his side. He wrote something on a small scrap of paper and then handed it to her. “Take this to Jessup. Ask him to put the word out for information about either of these men. Tell him I’m willing to pay for anything worthwhile.”

  The girl took the paper from her father’s hand, winked at Cade, and disappeared out the back door of the tavern.

  Riley rose halfway out of his chair, the concern evident on his face. “Is she going to be all right? What if she runs into one of those patrols?”

  Malevarius waved him back into his seat. “It will take more than a couple of Dreadnoughts to c
apture my girl.” Turning to Cade, he said, “There’s an informal network in the city. We try to help each other out when we can. If anyone has seen your friend, we’ll know in a couple of hours.”

  They were quiet for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts, until Cade broke the silence.

  “What can you tell me about the Isle of Sorrows or the Lady in the Tower?”

  Malevarius stared at him for a moment, surprised, and then looked away. For the first time since they’d come here, he turned evasive. “Nothing. Never heard of them,” he said, but it was obvious from his body language that he wasn’t telling the truth.

  Cade reached out and touched Malevarius, getting him to look up. “It is important. More than you can imagine.”

  The two men stared at each other. It became a battle of wills, waiting to see who would look away, who would break the link first.

  Eventually Malevarius sighed and gave in. “It’s an island. A few days travel north of us, across the Sea of Lamentations.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Years ago, the Isle was a thriving place, a sister city to this one. Trade between us was brisk and it was because of that trade that the lower harbor was built, to allow for more vessels to dock here at one time.

  “Word reached us that a new power walked the Isle, a power stronger than any that had been seen before, a power known only as the Dark One. He laid claim to the city, to the isle itself even, and when the city fathers resisted he proceeded to destroy them, seemingly without effort. Enraged by their resistance, the Dark One set out to raze the entire city.”

  Malevarius scowled. “They never stood a chance. Fire broke out, a strange witchfire that consumed stone and steel alike. It swept through the city in moments, destroying everything it touched. A few refugees reached us later, those who had already been aboard their ships when the fighting broke out and were able to put to sea before the conflagration that consumed the city could reach them. The sea was renamed in the wake of the tragedy, becoming the Sea of Lamentations, so named for all the grief that had been shed upon its waters.”