The Dove

by Brendan Carroll

  “I don’t understand, Master.” The Colonel turned about. “Your Excellency!” He sloshed away toward Bari. The Emperor was watching the current as it flowed out of one of the adjoining passages. Backpacks, blankets, canteens and other items swirled past him. “Sire! What are we to do now?”

  Bari looked up at him in wonder. “I suggest you do as my grandfather instructs you. Repent and pray for deliverance.”

  Nicole waded through the rising water to the edge of the basin, Galipoli held her arm, helping her along.

  “Daddy!” She called up to Mark. “These men will drown. You can’t fill the chamber with water. Now stop this. The fire is out.” Mark simply shook his head. Nicole searched the chamber for Simon and saw him trying to help Selwig up and onto a small ledge near the far corridor. “Simon! Come and do something with father before he kills us all!”

  “Mark.” Sophia tried again. “Mark. Please stop the water. We are not immortal anymore. We’ll drown. Both of us and all these soldiers.”

  “Have faith, Sophia.” He told her. “Did you not hear what I said? Even the faith of a grain of mustard seed can move mountains. You have only to believe.”

  “Do you believe you will not drown, Mark?” She asked him.

  “I will not drown and neither will you, if you believe.” He said again.

  The water had reached the top rim of the basin. Once more, some of the soldiers fled back up the passage and began to assault the hopeless pile of rubble.

  “Repent, my children.” Mark called after them. “Repent and live.”

  The Colonel began to recite the Lord’s Prayer and many voices joined with his as Simon’s light slowly faded in the rising flood.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  “Just over that rise, Your Grace.” Konrad wheeled his horse about and came abreast of Edgard d’Brouchart at the head of the long column of mounted soldiers. “It would appear that they have stopped to lay siege to a small hill for some reason. I would have to assume that the object of our concern might be near at hand.”

  The Grand Master smiled at Louis. The Frankish King’s visions had served them well. He had lead them unerringly to this place in the middle of nowhere. Louis nodded to him gravely. The use of the crystal had taken a terrible toll on him mentally and he had been hard-pressed not to use it to look in on his beloved Oriel.

  “Their numbers?” D’Brouchart rose up slightly in his saddle and scanned the horizon.

  “About ten to one.” Konrad told him without much hope. “The noise is coming from an artillery barrage directed at a hillock in the center of the enemy encampment. The refugees are possibly holed up in some caves in the rocks. I would have to assume that the Ark has already been captured. I don’t think that Jozsef Daniel would risk destroying it.”

  “You’re probably right.” The Grand Master agreed. He held up one gloved hand and the column stopped. “Did you not see any scouts? I can’t believe that he is not protecting his flanks.”

  “There is confidence and safety in numbers, your Grace. He has sentries posted, but they are watching the artillery fire for the most part.” Barry spoke up from his opposite side. “Perhaps they are so very intent upon their objective, they have been remiss in their tactics.”

  “Still, it seems a bit odd.” D’Brouchart slid from his saddle. The horses were tired. They had ridden hard and fast after finding Jerusalem deserted and the temple empty of the treasure. In spite of Louis’ predictions, Edgard had insisted on going to Jerusalem to see for himself. When Louis had been proven right, they had followed his directions which had put them only a few days behind the camel troops headed eastward from Jerusalem. Their foreboding about what lay ahead was affirmed and compounded when they had found the camel troops’ remains nailed to crosses in an abandoned village. After hastily burying the bodies in shallow graves, they had followed the same path that Jozsef Daniel had taken after learning the truth from the desert patrol’s leader. The trail was easy to follow and along the way, they had seen the signs of Lucifer’s harassment inflicted on the Fox army.

  “Certainly, he is not expecting us.” Louis dismounted and joined the Master, stretching his aching back.

  “The horses are worn out, sir.” Izzy rode along side them and dismounted, followed by Philip, Dan, Zebulon and Levi. Luke Matthew rode a bit further on and then turned back, signaling his commander to order the British troops to take a break.

  Corrigan skirted the column on his sleek charger and skidded to a stop in the desert pavement. He leapt lightly to the ground and dusted off his colorful cape. The difference between his horse and the horses of the regular troops was quite obvious. The prancing beast was neither tired, nor hungry.

  “We are outnumbered ten to one.” Edgard told him. “It seems that we may have come too late to save the fugitives. If they are trapped…”

  “It is never too late!” Luke Matthew objected. “I say we attack at once before they learn we are here. Surprise is always a great advantage and we have always been outnumbered. It has never stopped us before.”

  “King Ramsay is right, Your Grace.” Christopher Stewart agreed with Luke. The Knight of the Holy City sat down on a boulder and took off one of his boots. “The longer we wait, the more time he will have to prepare a defense.”

  “And if my father is still alive down there, we could draw them off long enough to facilitate a possible escape for him and the others.” Philip spoke up. “I would recommend a strike from three points if we can arrange it. These bluffs may provide some cover. We could send the Franks away on the left flank, the English can take the right and the rest of us could take the point.”

  “If they are attacking the caves, then we have to assume that whoever is there is still a threat to them.” Izzy agreed with his brother.

  “You are assuming much, brother.” Philip smiled at him. “We need to scout out the terrain and make a plan. Charging in without proper planning could be disastrous. We must learn what our options are.”

  “We won’t find out sitting here.” Konrad told him.

  D’Brouchart narrowed his eyes and looked about the countryside. A long valley stretched out behind them. Deserted buildings lay in ruins along the highway. He studied the profiles of the hills and then walked out away from them about thirty yards, looking to the west and then again to the south.

  His Knights watched him curiously as he walked back toward them.

  “Do you know where we are, Levi?” He addressed his grandson.

  Levi wiped the dust from his tired face and looked about.

  “It’s hard to say, Grandfather.” Levi shook his head. “Everything is changed from what I remember.”

  “Look at those hills there. And those ruins.” D’Brouchart nodded to the south. “And there.” He jerked his head to the west where more ancient walls and tumbled ruins were visible. He then took his grandson’s arm and directed him out away from the column. “Now look back.”

  Levi frowned as he surveyed the wide valley behind them. The remains of stone walls, roads and tumbled down ruins dotted the area, interspersed with the more modern destruction.

  “Megiddo.” He raised both eyebrows in surprise and whispered the name as the blood ran from his face. “Armageddon.”

  “Har Megiddo.” D’Brouchart repeated the correct name. “And Tell Megiddo lies just over the rise. They are blasting the site of ancient Megiddo. These ruins have been under excavation for the past century.”

  D’Brouchart hurried back to the head of the column.

  “King Ramsay!” He called to Luke. “Allow your men and horses a bit of water and then prepare for battle.”

  Luke nodded and hurried away.

  “King Louis!” D’Brouchart sought out the Frankish monarch. “Gather your forces on the left flank. The Brits will take up the right and the rest of us will form the point. Meet us back here in half and hour.”

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  Jozsef Daniel stood frowning at the truck and its om
inous cargo. Already, he had lost three men when they had attempted to move the wooden crate from the bed of the troop carrier. They lay burned and twisted on the ground beside the truck.

  “Abaddon!” He shouted to his general. “Are there no priests in your ranks?!”

  “Sir!” Abaddon poked at the latest casualty with the toe of his boot. “There are no Jews here with us.”

  “Then how is that the soldiers from Jerusalem were able to move it?” Jozsef approached the truck cautiously.

  “They must have had some help, sir. Whoever those monks were Hammed spoke of were obviously of the priestly line of Israel.” Abaddon backed away from the charred remains. The three soldiers had burst into flames when they had tried to cut the hemp ropes wrapped around the crate. They had been dead before they had hit the ground.

  “Dammit!” Jozsef rushed toward the summit of the mound. “Then we need them alive!”

  Abaddon hurried after him. When they reached the pile of rubble that had once been the entrance to the underground chambers, they found the soldiers tamping out the last of the smoldering fires. Jozsef had ordered them killed when he had grown tired of bombarding them. He had the Ark of the Covenant and that was all that counted.

  “Is… is that it?” Jozsef stared at the blackened stones in disappointment. He was too late to stop it.

  “They should be dead, Sire.” One of the soldiers told him proudly. “No one could survive that.”

  “Abaddon!” Jozsef wheeled about and almost bowled over the general behind him.

  “Your Grace?”

  “Dig it out!” He shouted in the general’s face. Jozsef Daniel was livid with rage. He had never been on a more disastrous campaign. Everything they had done had been wrong. “Find them. See if there are any survivors!”

  “Sir, only the Emperor and Miss Ramsay would have been…”

  “I don’t care.” Jozsef drew a ragged breath and tried to control his temper. “Find them! I don’t care if you have to dismantle the whole damned hill. There may be more to this place than we first thought and there may be more immortals down there than we knew.”

  Jozsef stumbled away down the pile of loose rocks as the soldiers began to push and pry on the debris choking the entrance.

  He had barely reached the foot of the mound when one of his commanders came scurrying through the rubble toward him.

  “Sir! Your Grace!” The man stopped short in front of him.

  “What now?” The ‘Prophet’ tossed his hair over his shoulder and jammed his kaffiyeh back on his head.

  “The angels!” The man panted and pointed away to the south.

  Jozsef squinted into the bright light of the mid-afternoon sun. A lone figure mounted on a white horse had emerged from between two low hills and was riding openly across the exposed landscape. His armor glittered in the sun and his yellow mantle fluttered out behind him. He stopped his horse and seemed to stand in the stirrups. A hush fell across the troops gathered about the hill as they waited for the next disaster to befall them. He raised a curled horn to his lips and let loose a long, solitary blast on the instrument. Immediately, four more mounted warriors emerged from the hills behind him. Each of them held swords high above their heads. As the Fox troops waited and watched in trepidation, a great army of glowing warriors, riding winged horses poured forth onto the plain, riding down on them with blades and lances aloft amidst a tremendous roar of unearthly proportions.

  “Great day in the morning!” Jozsef shouted. He grabbed the commander and shoved him back toward the base of the mound. “Get those guns turned!”

  The Fox soldiers, who had been lounging about the desert as the artillery pounded the hill all morning, broke in every direction, grabbing their weapons and running for cover wherever they could find it. Some of them ran in sheer terror in the opposite direction, but were soon running back, firing at random as panic swept over them. One of the captains fell on his knees and pointed toward the western horizon, babbling in his native tongue about Allah and the end of the world. Jozsef turned about slowly toward the west and was mesmerized by the sight of a tremendous winged creature that resembled a lion, alighting on a low rise. The creature pawed the earth and sent up a cloud of dust and debris behind it before loosing a magnificent roar that made the very rock tremble beneath his feet. Abaddon came skittering down the slope, caught up with him, and then they half-fell together down the remainder of the slope.

  “Get some of these men up on the hill!” Jozsef shouted at the General. “I don’t want them to stop digging! Send those idiots off to the south! Bring the guns to bear on that!” He waved one arm at the Sphinx. “Take a company of men with the flame throwers back to the Ark and make sure nothing gets through! I’ll take care of the damned angels!”

  The ‘Prophet’ ran through the chaos toward his command tent. He scooped up the bag containing the crystal skull and pulled the Urim and Thummin from under his tunic as he ran back outside and turned to face the onslaught of the winged warriors. He threw himself onto the ground and placed the skull in front of him before bringing the device up in front of his face. In his haste, he killed a dozen or more of his own soldiers with the powerful instrument before he gained control of the thing.

  The mounted angels swooped in on the wildly firing soldiers, slaying them right and left with swords and lances. The horses were ephemeral and the blurry forms mounted on their backs were impervious to the bullets and mortar fire. Only the green cones of light emanating from Jozsef Daniel’s position had any effect on them. As the power of the Urim and Thummin passed over them, they evaporated, leaving only a steamy trail of vapor behind, but there were hundreds more. Behind him, the artillery opened fire on the winged cat as it crouched on the hill and prepared to leap upon them.

  Abaddon ushered a terrified group of soldiers up the hill to where the digging was progressing at a frantic pace. The soldiers were more interested in digging a place of safety now than looking for survivors. They pulled together to dislodge a huge block of stone as others pried at it from above with metal rods. Just as Abaddon reached the summit of the hill, the stone gave way and a torrent of water gushed from the passage, sweeping the dark angel and his startled companions back down the slope, head over heels.

  Chapter Twelve of Sixteen

  And the sixth angel sounded, And the four angels were loosed for to slay the third part of men.

  “There!” Il Dolce Mio pointed toward the center of the chaos before them. “There he is!”

  Lucio strained to see what the elven King was pointing at.

  “I see him, little brother!” Lemarik said excitedly. “He is using the great device of power!”

  “The Urim and Thummin!” Lucifer spat the words. “He will not release the twins!”

  “What is happening on the hill?” Vanni asked Luke Andrew as he scanned the scene with his binoculars.

  “It looks a flood.” Luke frowned and Lucio took the glasses from him.

  “It’s water.” Lucio agreed. “But how?”

  “The Luminary has awakened the Fountain of the Waters of Life within the crystal palace.” Lucifer answered him.

  “Crystal palace?” Luke squinted at the confusing picture in front of him. He could see several people tumbling down the face of the mound, along with a small landslide of mud and rocks. Many more were clinging to boulders and small bushes on the crumbling hillside.

  “The crystal palace of the Watchers.” Lucifer took the binoculars from Lucio and looked at them curiously before placing them against his eyes. “Ahhh. Wonderful! Abaddon! Cursed demon! May the Waters of Life choke the breath from your wretched body.”

  Lucio snatched the binoculars back and looked again.

  “You are right, my friend.” He said. “That is the general. Santa Maria! That’s a lot of water!”

  Il Dolce Mio had mounted his pony and was already leading his elven troops across the rise and into the plain beyond. Their immediate approach was sheltered by the mound itself.

&
nbsp; “Your little friend might need your help, Golden One.” Lucifer chuckled softly at the sight of the fearless elves, marching into destruction.

  “Santa Maria! Wait!! Stop!!” The Knight of the Golden Eagle shouted inanely after the mounted troops. None of them even looked back at him. Lucio dropped the binoculars and made a mad dash for his horse, followed closely by Luke Andrew and Vanni.

  Lucifer retrieved the binoculars from the dirt and wiped the lenses with his mantle. He smiled as he watched the progress of his old enemy in the wake of the deluge, but his smile faded as he found the truck containing the golden relic of the Old One surrounded by the Fox soldiers armed with flame throwers.

  “Santa Maria!” He exclaimed and then bolted for his own mount.

  He let out a long warbling call for the remainder of his warriors to follow him and they rode down on the scene just as Edgard d’Brouchart’s troops topped the rise and charged down from the north.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  The sight that met the disbelieving eyes of the Templar forces was one of total chaos. The Fox soldiers were fleeing helter-skelter in all directions. When they saw this final threat descending from the north, they turned again toward the west and south, the only clear path remaining to them, but again, they were stopped in their flight by the sight of the British forces under King Ramsay’s flag and the sight of the sleek, black dragon, spouting green flames did nothing to restore their confidence in their leader. They made one last attempt to turn back, but found themselves completely cutoff by the Grand Master’s forces and the Frankish contingent riding in from the east. Some of them threw down their arms and fell on their faces. A few formed lines and fired on the advancing enemy troops with little damage and soon a full third of Jozsef’s army had surrendered to the Templar forces. Another third had fallen to the swords of the mounted angelic forces and the onslaught of the winged lion. The remaining portion was either hiding among the rocks or running haphazardly across the desert in every direction, pursued by the two great beasts, the ephemeral angelic forces mounted on winged horses and seeming hordes of screaming soldiers on horses, camels and foot. The battle of Armageddon as St. John had seen it was no battle at all, but a rout.