He takes my hand and pulls me into a tight embrace, placing a kiss upon each of my cheeks.
“I wish you well, my friend,” he says. “And pray to Allah for your swift return. We will have much to discuss for I wish to learn more about your people.”
“And I will look forward to sharing that knowledge with you.”
I give him a smile and a nod, neither of us wanting to acknowledge the possibility that I may not return – swiftly or otherwise. I don't know what's waiting for us down there in the dark, but I know it's not good. And I know it's going to be a fight – the fight of my life.
“As salamu alaykum, my friend,” he says.
“And peace be upon you as well.”
Without another word, I turn and drop down into the tunnel. My men are up ahead in the distance, swords drawn as they wait for me. I catch up with them and give them a nod.
“Time to end this,” I say.
We stride down the tunnel and I can't help but be impressed by the work Saladin's engineers had done in creating it. It took absolute secrecy and the better part of a year, but they'd done it. And they'd done it well. The tunnel is tall and wide, we are able to walk upright easily – although, single file, which will be to our disadvantage if we get caught in a fight down here.
But I am hoping the fight can be contained to the catacombs beneath the church in Jerusalem where the Ba’Chul is performing the Rites. My hope is that we can slip in, kill it, and slip out again with nobody being the wiser that we were even there. But I know that may not be likely – or even possible.
The Ba’Chul is a powerful being. A Shadow Clan wizard who, after performing the Rites of Ascension, is connected to and fueled by the power of the Deathstone. And with that magic flowing through its veins, its power is such that very few things in this world can stop it.
The Shadow Clan, with the power of a Ba’Chul behind them, will be unstoppable. They will finally do what they've always wanted – conquer Chondelai. And from there, their corruption and evil will spread into the world of man. They will burn it down and kill or enslave everybody living in it.
“We should be passing beneath the walls of the city now,” Antyn says from the front of our line.
The tunnel gets us close to the church near the center of the city. We walk on for a while longer and I'm keenly aware of each grain of sand slipping through the hourglass. The Ba’Chul will be at full strength soon. And we need to stop it.
I follow my men up the ladder and we find ourselves standing in a narrow alley between the church and another building. With Saladin's army occupying the attention of the city's defenders, this part of Jerusalem seems empty. Deserted. Nobody is walking the streets and there isn't a sound to be heard anywhere.
“Let's go,” I say.
I find a door in the side of the church and pull it open, my men rushing inside ahead of me. The interior is dark, but there is a definite sense of the dark and foreboding in the air. The malignant feeling surrounding and enveloping us is oppressive.
The feelings of despair and despondency that washes over me is so powerful and overwhelming, I have to fight the urge to turn and walk out of the church. To run away and never look back. It's the power of the Ba’Chul at work.
“Push through it, men,” I say. “The Ba’Chul knows we're here and it is fighting us already.”
I can see that my men are struggling and the only cure for it I know of is to get them moving. The sooner we take this fight to the Ba’Chul, the sooner we can claim victory and be done with it.
“Follow me,” I say.
I lead them to a room behind the church altar – the priest's vestibule. It's where we are going to find the passage to the catacombs beneath the church. It's where we're going to find the Ba’Chul. We enter the vestibule and find the hole to the tunnels below.
“Be ready for anything,” I say. “There will be guardians in the tunnels.”
My men nod at me and step forward, dropping down into the tunnel beneath the floor. I join them a moment later and am surprised to find the tunnel empty. Though it should be dark, there is an illumination coming from somewhere. Though still somewhat gloomy, with pockets of shadow clinging to the walls, it's light enough that we can see.
We don't have to wait long for the Ba’Chul's guardians to show themselves. They come screaming out of the darkness at us, their voices a high pitched keening wail. They're unlike anything I've ever seen before. They're vaguely human with gray, mottled skin, elongated limbs, and large, black eyes. Their mouth is filled with teeth like needles and their hands are tipped with wicked looking claws.
And there are a lot of them.
The come at us out of the darkness in a swarm – from the front and the rear. And although the tunnel is too small for us to shift, I still have weapons at my disposal. I turn to the throng of beasts coming at us from behind and open my mouth, summoning the dragonfire within me. I unleash a thick blast of flame that engulfs the creatures. Their shrieking fills the tunnel, echoing loudly in my ears.
Some of the creatures, their bodies aflame, rush at me, their hands with those wicked claws raking the air in front of me. I slash with my sword, cutting them down. Their smoldering bodies falling to the floor of the tunnel in pieces.
My men had used the same tactic and had cleared the way in front of us. We step over and around bodies that still burn, the odor of charred flesh in the tunnel is cloying.
“We need to hurry,” I say.
Together, we start heading through the twisting, turning warren of tunnels at a run. I have no idea where we were going. I'm simply following the pull of the magical forces the Ba’Chul is drawing into itself. We encounter smaller knots of those creatures lurking in the tunnels and strike them all down. We will not be delayed or deterred in our mission.
And then we arrive. It happens so suddenly, we almost fall over each other in our haste to stop and ready ourselves. In the center of the room stands the Ba’Chul – or rather, it hovers just slightly off the ground. Its arms spread out wide, its head thrown back, a look of absolute rapture on his face, the Ba’Chul is surrounded by a green, glowing field of energy that crackles and pops.
On the surface, it looks like a man. Any other ordinary man. His long hair is dark, his skin is pale, and his body is well muscled. But its eyes glow a deep red and on its chest is a dark circle, as if it were a mark tattooed upon its flesh. The circle on its chest glows, a tentacle of black magical energy pouring into it from the Deathstone.
I look over and see a doorway to Chondelai open – it's open into a stone chamber somewhere deep within the Shadow Clan's keep. The ribbon of black energy is streaming from the Deathstone, through the doorway, and into the circle upon the Ba’Chul's chest. And it's then I realize, if we cut that ribbon off at its source, if we shatter the Deathstone, we can end the Ba’Chul. We can cut off its power at the source.
“Kill it!” I shout to my men.
With swords bared, they rush forward as I head for the Dragon Door. Alert to my movement, the Ba’Chul flicks its wrist and sends me flying across the room. I slam into the stone wall of the chamber with a grunt and then get back to my feet. My men are thrown across the room by the magical force of the Ba’Chul as easily as I was. The Rites are nearing their completion and it's strong already.
The Ba’Chul settles its feet back down onto the ground, throwing his head back and speaks the magical words of the Rites in the ancient language of Chondelai. Its voice rises and rises, nearing a crescendo as its power builds. I can feel the magical energy in the room around us building, growing, and strengthening – it feels like the atmosphere outside before a massive storm breaks.
Reaching beneath my cloak, I pull out the small, handheld crossbow. I catch the attention of my men and motion for them to do the same. The Ba’Chul, so caught up in the rapturous throes of ecstasy as the energy from the Rites filled it, seemed to have forgotten about us entirely.
Or just doesn't see us as a legitimate threat. And given h
ow easily he'd swatted us down, I can't say that I blamed him for that.
We load the pure silver bolts into our crossbows and take aim. There isn't much that can kill one of the Dragonborn -- and a silver bolt alone might not do it unless you are very fortunate and strike a direct blow to the heart – but if nothing else, it will slow a dragon down. It will hurt them and cause tremendous pain as the silver burns their flesh and muscle.
Firing as one, our silver bolts streaked across the room, each one of them hitting their mark. The Ba’Chul bellowed in pain and outrage, its voice reverberating around the room, vibrating the walls of the chamber hard enough to shake dust and small pebbles loose.
“Now!” I scream.
Moving in unison, my two fighters and I dashed across the room. As the Ba’Chul writhed in pain, swatting at the silver bolts that had pierced its flesh, we moved in. It straightens up, its eyes burning a bright red, rage twisting and contorting its face.
It raises one arm and my fighter is lifted off the ground, a look of panic and pain upon his features. The Ba’Chul clenches its fist and I hear the bones snapping and breaking even from where I am. The Ba’Chul releases him and his body falls to the floor with a wet, meaty thudding sound. He is limp, lifeless, his eyes wide and blood pouring from his nose and mouth.
My second warrior swings his sword, the silver blade biting into the flesh of the Ba’Chul's arm. The dark wizard howls in pain as the blade slices clean through, sending a gout of blood spraying across the floor and its arm – almost up to the elbow – twirling away, where it lands next to the body of the first man. My warrior, moving quickly, draws back, looking to strike a killing blow, but the Ba’Chul reacts first, clenching its fist again.
I watch in sickened horror as the head of my warrior crumples beneath the pressure of an unseen force. The sound of bones breaking and the man's momentary cries of anguish echo around the room. The Ba’Chul releases him, his broken body slumping to the floor.
While my men attacked from the front, I had managed to get behind the Ba’Chul and just as my man's body hits the floor, blood and matter pooling out of his ruined head, I drive the point of my blade through the back of the Ba’Chul. Its cries of outrage and pain shake the room around us with the force of an earthquake as I lean into it, sinking my blade deeper into its flesh.
The Ba’Chul turns and casts its red, glowing eyes at me, on its face an expression of pure and utter hatred. The tip of my silver blade protrudes from its chest and thick, black blood pours from the wound. I may not have hit the heart directly, but I know I've done enough damage to it to kill it.
The Ba’Chul rears its head back and lets out a scream that shakes the very ground I'm standing on. A shockwave radiates from it and before I know what's happening, I'm blown back against the stone wall of the chamber. I hit the wall harder than I've ever been hit before and I feel the bones in me snap.
I slump to the floor, sitting upright and look down at my battered body. I can't feel my legs. My whole body feels numb and I realize that I can't move. I look up and see the Ba’Chul has fallen to its knees, a look of absolute agony on its face. And then I see that the black ribbon of magical energy had stopped flowing into it. The Door to Chondelai has closed.
It's over. We've won. I know I'm fortunate in many ways. Fortunate that we got to the Ba’Chul before it had absorbed the dark energies of the Shadow Clan. Fortunate that it had not yet come into its full power. Fortunate that because of the aid of Saladin, we had gotten here in time.
The ground beneath me shakes and chunks of stone begin to rain down on me. As the keening of the Ba’Chul intensifies, I know that I'm at my end. But, at least, my end will be a new beginning for the world. My hope is that people like Saladin and Balian can find ways to work together – to work toward peace. And make the world a better place.
The final thing I see with my own eyes is the burst of flame hurtling toward me. And then I know no more.
Chapter One
Kaitlyn
Present Day
“Oh my God, that was horrible,” I say, stepping through the door of my apartment and slamming it shut behind me. “What a waste of four hours.”
My roommate Ashley steps into the living room wearing nothing but a towel. She's rubbing some lotion into her face and grinning at me.
“I hate to say I told you so, babe,” she says. “But I did, in fact, tell you so.”
I grumble as I drop my purse on the table by the door and toss my keys into the bowl. Walking into the kitchen, I grab a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, twist the top off, and take a long drink. Letting out a long, frustrated breath, I walk back into the living room. Ashley is sitting on the chair, rubbing her lotion into her long, toned legs.
“Next time I say I'm auditioning for Scott Mack,” I say, dropping down onto the sofa, “slap me upside the head with something.”
“I tried to tell you the guy is skeevy,” she says. “But you wouldn't listen.”
I twirl my dark, shoulder-length hair around my finger and roll my eyes. “I thought it was a good role,” I say. “Sure, it would have been a small indie picture, but at least it would get me some exposure. Get my foot in the door, maybe.”
“And let me guess, Scott wanted a different kind of exposure from you.”
“Said I'd be perfect for the role,” I tell her. “And that it was mine – if I blew him. He straight up asked me that.”
“Wow,” Ashley says. “He's getting bolder in his old age. Used to be that he'd hint around at it but wouldn't come right out and say it like that. You didn't do it, did you?”
I roll my eyes and look at her. “What do you think?”
She laughs. “I'm going to say no, given that you haven't blown anybody at all in – how many years now?”
I give her the finger and laugh. It's true though. I haven't had a boyfriend or anything close to it in a long time. Not years, like she laughingly suggests, but a while. It gets lonely sometimes, but I'm focused on trying to build a career. Not only that, but I learned pretty damn quickly that you don't always know who to trust. It's not always safe to put your heart in somebody else's hands.
I'm still stinging over my last break-up and am not in a place where I want to go down that road again. Men are assholes and even though it would be nice to snuggle up next to somebody at night, at the moment, I just want to focus on getting my own head and heart right.
I take a drink of my water and nod. “And here I thought the whole casting couch thing was an urban legend.”
“Sadly no, it's very real,” she says, applying another dollop of lotion to her thighs. “You know what your biggest problem is?”
“Oh, this should be fascinating,” I say, rolling my eyes but grinning. “Tell me, Doctor Ashley, what is my biggest problem.”
She smiles and sticks her tongue out at me. “Your biggest problem is that you're still holding on to those quaint little Midwestern values you grew up with,” she says. “Which is fine and all. Nothing wrong with them. But those values don't exactly translate all that well here in Tinseltown. Especially if you're trying to break into show biz. Most of the people who run the show out here are completely devoid of things like morals, ethics, and scruples.”
“Great,” I say. “So, I should just chuck it all and start banging my way to getting some plum roles?”
Ashley giggles and shakes her head. “That's one approach,” she says. “Another might be to realize that the people you're dealing with might not be as morally upright as you and simply not let it bother you.”
I sigh. It's probably because of my values – ingrained in me by my Midwestern upbringing – that get me so upset by episodes like today's little fiasco.
“Easier said than done, I'm afraid,” I say.
“If you really want to survive in this industry,” she says, “you're gonna have to grow thicker skin, honey. You're gonna have to grow armor.”
“Yeah, I know you're right,” I say softly. “It's just – it sucks somet
imes.”
Ashley nods. “It does,” she says. “As women, we have to do more – not to mention put up with more bullshit – than men do when it comes to landing parts. But that's the business right now. And if you want it, you have to learn to navigate the waters and let the stupid stuff just roll off your back.”
I sigh and nod. It's a depressing commentary because I know she's right. It's one of the things I love most about Ashley – she never fails to give it to me straight. I appreciate her bluntness and honesty. She's a few years older than me and has been around the industry for a little while now. She's had some good roles, but hasn't had that big break yet. But her guidance and advice is invaluable to me.
She's also the first person I met when I moved from the middle of nowhere Missouri to Los Angeles to chase my dreams of silver screen stardom. I know, I'm a walking, talking cliché. Sometimes I want to slap myself upside the head. Sometimes I wonder what in the hell I'm doing when the chances of me actually “making it” are so small.
But acting is in my blood. It's what fuels me. Inspires me. It's my passion. And I know that if I don't chase it for as long as I can, as hard as I can, that I'll come to regret it. And if there's one thing I don't want in my life, it's to grow old with regrets and “what if's” in my heart.
Like I said, I'm a walking, talking cliché.
“So, anyway,” Ashley says. “Club Ice is supposed to be going off tonight. Some studio party or something. And we're going. So, you might want to start getting yourself presentable.”
“Ash, I'm beat,” I say. “I'm not sure –”
“Oh no, maybe you didn't hear me correctly. I said you're going. That wasn't a request or an invitation to debate,” she says, a grin on her face. “You need to get out of this funk you're in. Doctor Ashley's orders.”
I laugh. “I'm just so tired though.”
“You did hear me say this is a studio party, right?” she asks. “That means there are going to be some movers and shakers there. What better way to get your name floating through the right circles than meet some studio heads, some directors, and producers, or those kinds of people?”
Baby for the Dragon (No Such Thing as Dragons Book 5) Page 2
