The Covenant Of The Flame

by David Morrell

  His formerly blue eyes now were gray, glinting from the reflection of the torches.

  Tess shuddered.

  'Another secret. An inheritance from our ancestors,' Gerrard said.

  'Recessive genes. I know.'

  'Then you've learned a great deal. More than I expected. But now you'll learn even more. Much more. It's time. Step into the pit,' Gerrard instructed.

  Fulano had also removed contact lenses, revealing that his brown eyes actually were as gray as Gerrard's. They gleamed as brightly.

  Tess shuddered with greater force.

  'Take off your clothes,' Fulano said.

  'What?' Craig scowled. 'Now just a minute.'

  'I assure you, the request isn't prurient,' Gerrard said. 'We have no interest in sex. It's an impure impulse that contaminates the spirit. We indulge in it reluctantly, only for the sake of producing children. To us, your nakedness would be no more arousing than seeing the natural nakedness of animals. But we do respect modesty. There's no need for you to undress before us. Take off your clothes away from our sight. In the darkness of the pit. Then throw your clothes up the steps. Otherwise they'll be sullied when you put them back on.'

  'Sullied? Why?' Craig glowered. 'What are you talking about?'

  'Because of your baptism,' Fulano said. 'Your reluctance continues to disturb me. Prove yourselves. Prove that you're worthy. Do what you're told. Step into the pit. Remove your clothes.'

  Hugh Kelly and the guards continued to crowd against Tess and Craig.

  'We don't need your men to force us,' Tess said. 'We agreed. We told you, we want to stay alive.'

  'But only if you respond to the power of the baptism, and whether you do will soon be obvious,' Fulano said. 'Either you'll understand and appreciate the significance of the ritual, or else…'

  'We'll be killed,' Tess said.

  Mustering her courage, Tess descended, leaving the wavering light of the torches.

  Too soon, pressed against Craig, she reached the bottom. The pit was black, damp, and cold. Narrow. Constricting. Their arms bumped against each other as they reluctantly took off their clothes and tossed them up the steps.

  Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, Tess raised her head, seeing reflecting light from the torches tnrough gaps in the top of the pit. Thick bars in an iron grate, wide enough so that the bull's hoofs couldn't drop through them, were braced securely in the limestone rim.

  Craig murmured, 'What's supposed to happen? What kind of baptism…?'

  'You've seen the statue.' Tess strained to keep her voice low. 'Don't you realize?'

  Abruptly Craig did.

  She felt him tremble with horrified understanding.

  One of her breasts bumped against his arm as she stared apprehensively upward. Despite her effort at a muted whisper, Gerrard must have heard.

  The blood of the lamb,' Gerrard said above her. 'According to Christianity, you have to be washed in the blood of the lamb. That's something else they stole from us. Their version of baptism. Then they substituted water for blood. But the blood of the lamb was originally the blood of the sacred bull. The white bull. Regardless of Christianity's changes, our tradition is pure. We still retain the sanctity of the age-old rite. It goes back to ancient Iraq. It reappeared in Greece, particularly in Crete, where legend has it that a pure-white bull arose from the sea and was eventually sacrificed by Theseus to the sun god – they called Him, Apollo – on the mainland at Athens. Later, in Roman times, converts were initiated into Mithraism through this baptism. Here, in Spain, the bullfight is a latter-day version of the sacrifice. In fact, at Merida, a bullfight ring was constructed above an ancient Roman chapel devoted to Mithras, and in the bowels of that chapel, there existed a pit similar to this one, called a taurobolium, in which Roman centurions disrobed and were rebaptized before each battle – to give them strength in their fight with their enemy. The rite persisted in secret beyond the fourth century despite Constantine's conversion to Christianity. It persisted in the Middle Ages despite the efforts of the Inquisitors. It still persists. As long as nature endures, the rite will endure. Because of the rite's eternal majesty and power.'

  'Then do it!' Tess screamed. 'Get it over with!'

  Fulano's voice echoed, interrupting. 'As the direct descendant of the man who guided his small group of survivors from Montsegur, I take the place of my ancestor. I take the place of Mithras. I sacrifice the counterpart of Mithras.' His voice became a chant.

  Above, Tess heard the white bull rear and stomp in fury. She couldn't see but knew what was happening. Fulano – at the risk of his life – had mounted the imprisoned bull.

  Gerrard's voice intruded, so calm that it was dismaying. 'At the vernal equinox, this sacrifice represents the return of life to the planet. At the summer solstice, however, the sacrifice intitiates youths from our sect into its mysteries. And on occasion, rare converts. They experience the power of baptism, and if they're worthy, they understand the necessity of the baptismal sacrifice.'

  The frightened bull continued to snort, stomp, and rear in outraged protest.

  Tess imagined Fulano straddling the bull, struggling to avoid its thrashing horns, to grab its twisting snout and thrust its head upward, exposing the neck, to plunge his blade in and slice it across, severing arteries, spewing…

  A shower of blood cascaded. Hot, repulsive, thick and heavy, steaming, pungent, salty, bitter. It flooded in an unbelievable quantity through the bars of the grate. It plummeted, viscous, scalding, drenching, drowning, suffocating.

  The bull roared, even though its throat had been slit. It bellowed in a final outburst of pride and bravery. Its knees buckled.

  In terrified awe, Tess heard its legs thunk onto the metal grate, its huge majestic body topple, sinking, thunking even harder onto the grate.

  More blood gushed, soaking her hair, filling her ears, drenching her face, slicking her naked body, her bare feet immersed in a horrifying, ankle-deep, steaming pool.

  She lost control. She sank to the floor. Craig tried to stop her, but he too was powerless, sinking from the force of the deluge.

  'Oh, my God,' he said.

  'Now do you understand?' Fulano demanded, his footsteps clattering as he rose from the corpse of the bull and clambered over the side of the limestone pen.

  Assaulted by insanity, her body immersed in blood, no longer shivering because the sacred bull's steaming life force warmed her, Tess blinked upward through sticky crimson fluid and struggled to focus her desperate thoughts.

  She couldn't speak.

  'Tell me!' Fulano shouted.

  'The sacrifice' – her throat didn't want to work – 'is supposed to teach us that life is precious.' Her voice became hoarse, her words an extended groan. The blood of the bull is so shocking that forever afterward we'll remember how truly final death is, and that nothing in nature should ever be killed unless it's absolutely necessary.

  That's why you don't eat red meat. That's why you're mostly vegetarians, because the crops come back in the spring, but an animal, each and every animal, is one of a kind, and if it's killed, it won't come back in the spring. If we kill enough of them, entire species won't come back in the spring. The planet is finite. Its bounty can be exhausted if we don't take care.'

  The chamber became terribly silent.

  Blood dripped down Tess's body.

  'You do understand,' Fulano said. 'Welcome. You're one of us.'

  Tess wiped at her blood-streaked mouth, tasting the salty crimson fluid, nearly gagging. When she inhaled, blood spewed up her nostrils. She fought to breathe. Furious, she remembered the painting of the white bull with the spear through its throat. After the glory of existence comes death, and because that glory can never be replaced, death must always be respected. That was the message.

  But death, she thought. You bastards had no regard for death when you killed my mother!

  You're hypocrites!

  You're goddamned-!

  A far-away echoing whump interrupted her
furious, vengeful thoughts.

  The whump, although distant, had sufficient force to waver the rock floor beneath her, although at first Tess thought it was just her knees that were shaking.

  'What happened?' she heard Gerrard ask above the pit. 'What was-?'

  Whump! A second jolt, closer, sent shock waves through the cavern. Somewhere a rock fell, clattering.

  'It sounds like…' Fulano gasped. 'A cave-in!'

  'No! Explosions!' Gerrard sounded frightened.

  'Find out!' Fulano ordered the guards. 'Here's the key! Unlock the door! Tell me what's happening!'

  Numerous footsteps raced toward the chapel.

  At once Craig grabbed Tess's arm and lunged toward the steps. She charged after him, slipped on blood, and fell. Her gymnastic training made her tuck in her arms and twist her body to absorb the impact. Even so, she banged her shoulder, wincing. Immediately she scrambled to her feet and continued charging upward, joining Craig at the top.

  The blood cooled on their bodies. Naked, they shivered and hurriedly dressed, shivering worse as the blood soaked their clothing.

  Ignoring the pathetic corpse of the white bull in the pen, they spun toward the entrance to the chapel.

  Fulano, Gerrard, and Hugh Kelly were grouped at the archway. A gap allowed Tess and Craig to see the guards race across the chapel to unlock the cavern's door.

  But the moment a guard used all his might to tug it open, he turned in dismay. 'The lights are out!'

  'Two outside doors, two explosions.' Fulano clenched his fists. 'The first explosion must have blown the generator.'

  'Whoever did it,' Gerrard started to say.

  'You know who did it! Inquisitors!' Fulano said.

  'But if the entrance isn't blocked, if they're coming for us, they won't be able to find us without the lights in the tunnels,' Gerrard said.

  'They'll be prepared! They'll carry flashlights!' Fulano said. 'All they have to do is follow the trail of bulbs.' He straightened and shouted to the guards, 'Get into the tunnel! Close the door so the glow from the torches won't show where you're hiding! Shoot when you see their flashlights! They'll be easy targets!'

  The guards snapped into motion, lunged through the door, and pulled it shut.

  'Inquisitors!' Fulano said as if cursing. 'How did they find us? How did they know where-?'

  Gerrard spun toward Tess and Craig. 'You! Somehow you brought them here!'

  'How?' Craig demanded. 'You know we couldn't have. You kept us prisoners from the time we left Andrews Air Force Base. If we used a phone on the plane, you'd have known about it. Then we boarded the other plane. Then we used the helicopter. There's no way we could have passed a message. We've done everything you asked, even to the point of being baptized. We've gone to the limit to prove we want to cooperate.'

  'No, somehow…' Fulano stalked toward them, his gray eyes bulging. 'You were searched for weapons. You were scanned with metal detectors. How did-?'

  'Look at her feet! She's wearing the sneakers she had when she boarded Air Force Two!' Gerrard said. 'She brought them with her. She carried them in her purse and put them on when she entered the cave. That's how they tracked us. That's how they found us. The sneakers must contain a homing device.'

  'Take them off!' Fulano said. 'I want to see them!'

  Tess stepped backward.

  'I'm right!' Fulano shouted.

  Tess stepped farther backward.

  'Kelly,' Gerrard told his assistant.

  'Yes, sir?'

  'Shoot them. We gave them our trust. They didn't deserve it. Don't just shoot them. Blow them apart.'

  'Yes, sir.' Hugh Kelly pulled back a bolt on the side of his automatic weapon, then raised it, aiming.

  In a frenzy, Craig dove toward Tess, shoving her into a pool behind a stalagmite. Stunned by cold water, they crouched protectively behind the rock.

  But the shots they heard didn't come from Hugh Kelly's weapon.

  Instead the shots came from other automatic weapons, rattling, muffled, distant, behind the door that led into the chapel.

  Beyond it, men screamed in agony.

  Abruptly the door scraped open, guards surging through, firing behind them, leaning their combined weight against the door, shutting it, locking it.

  'They didn't use flashlights!' a guard yelled.

  Fulano rushed toward the rear entrance to the chapel. 'Then how could they have followed us here? How could they have seen the trail of bulbs in the dark?'

  'They're wearing night-vision goggles! It didn't matter where we hid! They could see us, but we couldn't see them!'

  'Take cover!' Fulano ordered.

  The guards retreated, lunging toward the protection of torches and pillars. Some left a trail of blood. Tess heard their strident breathing.

  Something banged on the opposite side of the metal door.

  'They're trying to get through!' Gerrard said.

  Something banged again. The lock held firm.

  'They'll use explosives!' Fulano said. 'Get down!'

  Hugh Kelly had turned to view the commotion.

  Taking advantage, Craig surged from the pool of water behind the stalagmite. Kelly heard him and whirled but not in time. Craig reached him before he could raise his weapon and fire. Slamming Kelly, twisting him, Craig grabbed Kelly's chin from behind and jerked it upward. At the same time, Craig dropped to one knee, propped up the other knee, and banged Kelly's spine across it.

  Sickened, Tess heard two brutal snaps – from Kelly's neck and spine. As Kelly's lifeless body sank to the cavern's floor, Craig grabbed the weapon and aimed toward Gerrard and Fulano.

  Too late. The sound of the struggle having warned them, they ducked through the entrance into the chapel before Craig had a chance to fire.

  He cursed and started after them. But instantly he stumbled back, the force of an explosion making him fall. The blast was deafening, the metal door flying off its hinges, banging onto the floor. More rocks dropped from the ceiling.

  Tess's ears rang. Nonetheless she heard guards shoot toward the entrance to the tunnel. From the darkness beyond the entrance, from the chamber of the painted bulls, other weapons returned fire.

  Tess heard another explosion. Then another. In the cold pool behind the stalagmite, she winced and pressed her hands against her ears. Grenades! The Inquisitors were throwing grenades! The chapel filled with smoke and flames. Although her hands were pressed against her ears, the screams of dying men assaulted her.

  The gunshots persisted, gaining in volume. More explosions rocked the cavern, more rocks falling. Through the entrance to the chapel, Tess saw a torch break, toppling, spewing its fiery oil across the floor. Bullets chipped pillars, ricocheting, rockshards flying.

  As the shooting intensified, dark-clothed figures charged from the cavern of the painted bulls. Through the smoke, Tess saw that the figures wore goggles and that their faces were smeared with black camouflage grease. They held automatic weapons and fired in every direction, pausing only long enough to throw more grenades. The explosions shattered pillars. Guards dropped, blood bursting from their heads and backs. Others were crushed by cascading rocks.

  In a rush, the survivors – Gerrard and Fulano among them – scrambled into the cavern behind the chapel. A few returned fire, but most fled in panic.

  Tess tripped a man as he raced past the stalagmite. His chin banged hard against the floor.

  Too terrified to resist the impulse of adrenaline, she lunged from cover and grabbed his weapon. Her father had never taught her how to use this type of gun, but she remembered that Hugh Kelly had pulled back a bolt on the side of his before he prepared to snoot. Evidently the bolt was a cocking mechanism, and assuming that the guard had already cocked his weapon, she responded defensively, aimed at the guard when he stuggled to rise, and shot him, slamming him flat.

  The spray of blood combined with the weapon's stuttering recoil unnerved her. The force of the volley yanked the barrel upward. She urgently told herself, Re
member to hold it down, to keep it level.

  Spinning, determined, she looked for other targets. Craig? Where was Craig? In the chaos of the shots, the smoke, and the flames, she didn't dare pull the trigger for fear of hitting him. Then she saw him, flat on his stomach, shooting. Guards jolted backward, slamming into others, knocking them off balance, coating them with blood.

  Tess fired above Craig, hitting other guards. Meanwhile, in the chapel, the smoke and flames grew stronger. The gunshots came closer. Craig and Tess kept firing.

  To her right, Tess noticed sudden motion. There, Fulano rose from beside the pen in which he'd slaughtered the sacred bull.

  He reached beneath his sport coat, pulled out a pistol, and aimed toward Craig.

  Tess fired sooner, stitching Fulano's chest with bullets. The direct descendant of the leader of the heretics jerked repeatedly, staggered, and toppled over the side of the pen, lying on the corpse of the great white bull.

  But again Tess hadn't been able to control her weapon's recoil. Its barrel heaved upward. Her finger – still on the trigger -reflexively kept squeezing. Propelled, she twisted, and suddenly Gerrard was in her line of fire.

  The vice president wailed, holding up his arms as if to shield his chest, but the bullets struck higher, blasting holes across his handsome face, blowing apart his gray eyes. Viscous matter spurted. His head appeared to explode.

  Then actual explosions threw Tess on the rocky floor, grenades detonating fiercely at the rear of the chapel. She fought to stand, knowing that there'd be more explosions, and that they wouldn't be in the chapel. They'd be closer. They'd-! She saw a grenade arc through the entrance to the cavern.

  Abruptly she felt the breath knocked out of her, a figure hurtling against her, Craig who tackled her and dropped with her, and the next thing, Tess struck the steps to the pit and tumbled down them, Craig twisting over her. She walloped her knees, her back, her skull, and hit the dark bottom, stunned, splashing into thick pungent blood that heaved and splattered over her.

  Immediately, as she regained sufficient presence of mind to clamp her blood-smeared hands against her ears, feeling Craig raise his arms and do the same, the grenade erupted with a stunning roar, its shrapnel splintering off the cavern's walls, a few fragments striking the upper steps of the pit, the thunderous echo swelling against the walls of the cave, more rocks cascading.