The Twilight Dragon & Other Tales of Annwn: Preludes to The Everwinter Wraith (The Annwn Cycle)

by Shawn Speakman

  The Heliwr found one aspect strange though. If a vampire had overcome Bruno, why did the knight still live?

  Especially without having been bitten and turned?

  “Did anything else get past him?” Charles asked.

  “Two or three others,” Merle said. “You will need Berrytrill to keep you safe.”

  “Speaking of, where is yer guide, Charles?” Cardinal Ramirez asked. “I have not heard a whisper of his wings on the air since yeh entered.”

  Charles removed the cloak he wore. He would look out of place if his pursuit took him topside into Vatican City anyway. Before he finished folding it, Berrytrill flew free like a sparrow released, the fairy hovering in midair, his wings a blur and his twig arms folded crossly as if to defend himself.

  “We waste time, Charles,” the fey creature said.

  “There he is,” the Seer said, smiling.

  “Get that abomination out of here!” Beck Almgren snarled.

  “He is only a fairy, my able companion and guide. He will remain, whether you like it or not, Captain,” Charles said pointedly. “You have my word that he will cause you no harm nor be observed by Rome’s denizens.”

  “Cardinal Seer Ramirez, you have gone too far!” the captain grated. “To welcome such a creature onto holy ground is a sin beyond a sin. It is my duty to keep that creature out of these environs! If that thing gets near me, I’ll—”

  “Do what, asssqueak?” Berrytrill sniffed. “Why I would want to sully my royal person with the likes of you is quite beyond my understanding.”

  Beck Almgren reddened. “You little vermin—”

  “Enough of this,” Merle cut in. The room went silent. “Ancient arguments and animosities do not serve us this day. An emissary of the Swiss Guard returns bearing news for all to hear.”

  To this, a guard stormed into the room, bowing quickly.

  “Captain, we have it cornered!”

  “Where?”

  “It’s in the Vatican Secret Archives.”

  “Whatever for?” Captain Almgren questioned. “What would it want with archaic writings and crumbling parchment?”

  “Knowledge,” Merle said.

  “How do you know that?” the captain asked.

  “If I traveled from one world to another at great risk to visit a library, I’d be after information,” Merle said darkly.

  “We must make certain he is still there,” Charles said.

  “Only you can do that from here,” Merle said.

  Charles nodded and called the Dark Thorn. Magic infused the room. Merle nodded in support; Captain Almgren watched guardedly. Charles ignored them both. Moving to a rarely used corner, the Heliwr brought the staff up and stabbed it into Italy. Although fashioned from the Holy Thorn at Glastonbury Abbey in England, the butt of the Dark Thorn entered the rock easily, the magic pushing aside the physical boundaries of stone even as it connected with the world. Bringing his will to bear, Charles focused on his quarry, seeking what was hidden. It did not take long. The magic snaked upward from the Seer’s quarters, into the catacombs, to the surface of the Vatican grounds.

  It ended within one of the buildings to the north of St. Peter’s Basilica.

  There, Charles would find the creature.

  “I have my way,” he said.

  “Is he in the Vatican Secret Archives still?” Cardinal Ramirez asked.

  “He is.”

  “What will you do?” Beck Almgren questioned Charles.

  “What I must,” Charles said. With a hint of a smile, he added, “Talk first, I would think. Ask him to return to Annwn. If that fails and he won’t, I will… improvise.”

  “One more thing, Captain Almgren,” the Swiss Guard said. “It’s taken three prisoners. The Cardinal Archivist, Cesare Farina, and two of his night interns.”

  “That makes things more dangerous,” Cardinal Ramirez said.

  “I say again,” Bishop Valencia pushed. “The Pope must be told.”

  “And he shall be, due to where this vampire has gone,” the Cardinal Seer said impatiently. “Our Eminence is willful though and sometimes it is our role to protect him—even from himself. If this vampire has designs to kill him, we must take all caution possible to prevent that. That means keeping him from knowing. Keeping them separate. If Our Eminence knows, he will confront this vampire directly. And we know not if that is exactly what the vampire wants.” The Seer paused. “The better question is, what is it hoping to discover in the library?”

  Charles straightened. “That is what I intend to find out.”

  “Captain Almgren, I have ordered the Swiss Guard to surround the room—and to not enter,” the guard said. “The Secret Archives is a sealed area, holding some of the most precious parts of the Catholic Church’s history. Violence of any kind could damage that history.”

  “You will have to wield your power with care, Heliwr,” Beck Almgren added, giving Charles a dark look.

  “Noted, Captain,” the knight said, hiding his annoyance.

  “We must speak, Charles,” Merle said, moving away from the others.

  Charles frowned but followed the old wizard toward the burning hearth. The Churchmen let them go, although deep suspicion stared from Captain Almgren’s eyes like daggers at their leaving.

  Merle turned his back on the others and stepped close. “You must be careful, Charles,” he said.

  “I know,” the knight agreed, although unsure what the other meant.

  “You don’t understand,” the wizard said, his blue eyes intense. “You are to be a father. With that comes a responsibility just as great that brought you to Rome. Do not underestimate this vampire. It is imperative you survive this day and many afterward. I know I criticized you when you wedded, even more so when I learned of the conception. But that is past. The future holds more than you know.”

  “If I didn’t know better,” Charles said, grinning. “I’d think you are apologizing and now happy I am having a child.”

  “The future calls upon that scion, Charles Ardall,” Merle said seriously.

  Charles became just as serious. Merle always knew more than he let on. The wizard had been alive since the fifth century, his demon ancestry slowing his aging but his early baptism making him an instrument of good. With his unique lineage came the ability to see aspects of the future. He described it as seeing probability, with some future lines more prevalent in his sight—and therefore more likely—to occur. He could then influence certain events if they were not carved into stone. The lines were rarely certain, leaving Merle cautious and the portal knights nervous more often than not.

  For Merle to suddenly warn Charles meant the once confidante of Arthur the Eld was not entirely sure of the outcome this hunt would have.

  Uncertainty filled his veins like ice.

  “I will remain here,” Merle said, eyeing the knight on the bed. “Bruno needs his arm set. Best to do that now before he wakes from the drought I gave him.”

  Charles nodded soberly. Merle turned to the fairy.

  “Keep him safe, Berrytrill. That is your task.”

  “I will, Myrddin,” the guide said earnestly.

  Unsure of what had just happened and not having the time to mull on it yet, Charles turned back to the Seer and captain. “With the portal knight bedridden, I think it best the Captain of the Vatican Swiss Guard watch the entrance into Annwn and ensure nothing else comes through.”

  “Sound reasoning,” Cardinal Ramirez admitted.

  “I will return,” Charles said simply.

  The others simply nodded. Charles and Berrytrill left the room, knowing the eyes of the Vigilo watched him leave. Such meetings, though rare, always left him annoyed. Add what Merle had shared and anger seethed just below the surface. At least none of the other Vigilo members were in Rome. Other than Merle, none of them knew the hardship of his role. Throw in the added confusion of having a child on the way, and Charles now questioned whether or not he had made the right choice in accepting his knighthoo
d.

  “I am still amazed by the friendship you have built with the Seer,” Berrytrill cut through the knight’s dark thoughts, flying slightly ahead as they made their way quickly through the catacombs. “Given the hatred the Church has for your kind, especially.”

  “My kind?” Charles grunted. “Well, sometimes the enemy of your enemy is your friend. And once you look past the ideology that separates us, we want the same thing. It helps that he is a bit more… philosophical… about life and God. He is not as extremist as most in the Vigilo. Probably stems from being forced to view all sides.”

  “He would never do anything to harm you?” the fairy asked.

  “He wouldn’t,” the Heliwr said. “Now, the Captain of the Swiss Guard, I don’t trust.”

  “That tittweak smelled of wanton power.”

  Thinking on what had just happened, Charles said nothing despite Berrytrill peering questioningly at him every few moments.

  It was finally too much for the guide to take.

  “What is wrong with you?” the fairy blurted.

  “Nothing,” Charles said curtly. “Just guide me.”

  Berrytrill gave the knight a frown but flew ahead. Climbing up through the catacombs, the Dark Thorn held before him, Charles cursed letting his emotions get the better of him. Myrddin Emrys. Some days, the knight reviled the name. Despite his physical body becoming too frail to control the demon magic intertwined with his human form, Merle still possessed his odd prescience. For the wizard to share his concern and the truth so openly meant his auguries were nearly split. The day could be won; the day could be lost. There was no way of knowing which.

  It meant the Heliwr might not live to see the end of the day.

  That wasn’t what bothered Charles though. He had accepted his knighthood and the danger that came with it. His wife knew the risks as well. The unborn child she carried did not though, and the fact Merle had already seen a future where that child played an integral part in the wizard’s machinations left Charles more than unsettled. It left him frightened—and angry—of what else he didn’t know.

  Could he fulfill his duty as Heliwr safely? Ensure his child had a father?

  And teach that child to be wary of Merle?

  Or was it time to step down from his role as the unfettered knight?

  No answers were forthcoming.

  Eventually Charles came to a fork in the tunnel. Berrytrill, fulfilling his role as guide, nodded and flew ahead. Charles knew the subterranean depths better than most alive and had been here twice before on hunt. His guide too. The first time, a leprechaun had managed to trick Bruno and invaded the Vatican just to drink ale on Church grounds—an outrageous blasphemy to the Vigilo but great fun for the fey creature. During the second incursion, a troll possessing fists the size of cinder blocks had battled its way upward into the Sistine Chapel, damaging several wall frescoes in the process.

  Both times, Charles had saved the Vatican and kept his world ignorant about the Tuatha de Dannan. That was the role Merle had bequeathed him.

  Now something far more dangerous called his attention.

  He had taken several different passages, following the path the Dark Thorn had shown him, when his sixth sense blared in warning.

  “Wait!” Berrytrill screamed at the same time.

  The warnings came too late.

  Behind large sarcophagi interred in the walls, two vampires leapt from the shadows upon Charles, teeth bared and powerful grips forcing him down.

  The knight barely had time to react. The magic of the Dark Thorn burst from him like a solar flare, driven by the adrenaline of fear and surprise, the power from two worlds infusing his entire being. The white fire flung the vampires aside like rag dolls, both slamming against the walls of the tunnel. They did not stay down long. Even as Charles fought to regain his balance to counter the threat, they were already on him again, one trying to gain his neck through sheer force and the other attempting to wrest the Dark Thorn from his grip.

  Even with the staff’s power lending him more than mortal strength, the vampires were stronger, stronger than anything Charles had encountered.

  In such close quarters, they were the predators and he the prey.

  They would kill him.

  All would have been lost if not for Berrytrill. The fairy zoomed out of the darkness, yelling the battle cry of his clan. He attacked the vampire grappling for Charles’s neck, ripping dust out of the tiny pouch on his back and throwing it upon the undead horror.

  The silver dust fell upon its face and golden daylight erupted.

  The creature screamed, falling back and pawing at its face, the radiance blinding and flames licking its pale, dissolving skin.

  “Now, Charles!”

  Sudden half freedom bolstering his desperation, the Heliwr rammed the other vampire against the wall. Rib bones shattered. Snarling in pain, the creature lost its grip on the Dark Thorn but fought to grasp Charles anew. He did not let it. He clubbed the vampire across the face, driving it to its knees, and in one fluid motion swung the staff like a sickle at the other vampire.

  The butt of the Dark Thorn penetrated its chest, killing heart and life.

  The vampire’s death scream echoed, loud and inhuman. The creature dropped to the floor, still aflame from Berrytrill’s dust magic.

  Years of battle training heightening his senses, Charles yanked the Dark Thorn clear of the dead undead and spun to confront his last enemy. It didn’t matter. With broken bones and a jaw that hung awkwardly to one side from the strike Charles had delivered, the vampire had not moved from where it had slumped to the catacomb floor. Beaten, Charles thought. Berrytrill hovered nearby, fists full of silver dust if needed. It wouldn’t be. The creature from Annwn looked up at the knight, a broken thing, the hate filling its eyes the only lively aspect about it.

  “Geht et ovah wit, knight,” the vampire mumbled, barely able to speak.

  “That’s what I do,” Charles said coldly.

  Without waiting for a reply, the Heliwr drove the Dark Thorn through the vampire’s chest like a stake.

  The creature died with a hollow gasp.

  “Thought you were done for,” Berrytrill said.

  “No time for applause,” Charles said, catching his breath. He gave the fairy a dark look. “Don’t let that happen again, Trill.”

  “My fault, no doubt,” the fairy agreed, already guiding up the passage.

  Given angry purpose at being caught off guard and pushing his family worries aside, Charles reduced the corpses to ash with the Dark Thorn and then chased after his guide. It didn’t take long for the Heliwr to navigate the underground world. Upward they traveled, not speaking, the fairy watching for further ambushes and Charles ready for one if it happened. The world of the dead began to fade away, fewer burial holes chiseled out of the living rock. The grade leveled eventually, the fire in his legs matching that in his heart, and they finally came to a dead end in the passage where a set of stairs vanished upward into a stone block.

  “This vampire we hunt knew how to get out,” Berrytrill noted.

  Charles nodded. “So it would seem.”

  “It knows more than it should.”

  The knight did not stop to contemplate how the vampire knew the inner workings of the Vatican. Instead, Charles unlocked the secret door by touching hidden catches in the wall designed by Leonardo da Vinci—entering the correct combination just like the vampire would have had to do.

  The response was immediate. A series of clicks filled the tunnel and the stone door at the top of the stairs dropped several inches and slid silently aside. Charles took the stairs two at a time into the musty odor of parchment and ancient ink.

  The Heliwr stood within the lowest levels of the Vatican Secret Archives. More than fifty miles of shelving contained tens of thousands of volumes, prints, engravings, coins, and flattened parchments, most from ages past but all important. It was daunting to imagine reading it all. No one had, as far as Charles knew. The Cardinal Ar
chivist and his prefects knew the library better than anyone though, their care of the Secret Archives and connecting libraries making them uniquely qualified to know the gathered knowledge of the Church. Occasionally, Charles had inquired after that knowledge when needed for his knightly role. He was lucky in that regard; only a select few were granted research access to the Secret Archives every year.

  There were secrets hidden in these environs no one had laid eyes on in centuries.

  Had the vampire fought for entrance into the archives for information, as Merle believed?

  Or for something far more sinister?

  Charles stomped the stone tile to the right and the door closed behind them.

  “Being a prince or no, there are some marvels in this world I do so care to quietly observe,” Berrytrill sighed. “I could spend years and years reading here.”

  “Do not forget why we are here, Trill,” Charles chided. “Keep a look out. The two vampires below were left there for a reason and we are close now. The object of our hunt is on the other side of this bunker. Can’t fall prey now.”

  “Good point,” the fairy said, speeding ahead.

  Charles watched him go, extending his own senses into the faintly lit area. The vampire was not far away. He knew that. He could also feel the groups of people above enjoying Rome’s night and all its wonder, wholly unaware of the evil that had infiltrated the city. Vampires were relegated to myths, legends, and sappy romance novels that left middle-age women aquiver. None of those people knew the truth. Ages past, very real Tuatha de Dannan fey and other magical beings had fled this world for Annwn to begin life anew. The Church had driven them out with iron and the sword.

  Those Catholics above knew nothing of that. And if they had known, such creatures would have been blasphemously evil.

  When Charles had crossed half the distance to the far wall, passing hundreds of rows of books and gathered scrolls, Berrytrill came flying hurriedly back.