The Janissary Corps, being mere humans, were unmoved. Legend held that they feared to fire on the Paling itself, but the more prosaic reality was that the Paling was probably placed safely behind the walls. The Janissaries eventually broke through a side gate, and the invaders flooded the city.
Even so, the daimons would not enter, and Void magic would not work. The defenders carried the crystal to the Hagia Aletheia, where they made their last stand. When it became clear that the empire was lost, the Great Paling was evacuated on the last ship out of the burning city.
The crystal was hidden away for centuries, long thought to have disappeared, but after Amarantopolis was liberated and Hellas restored, it reappeared and was restored to its proper place.
Sixty years ago, the Church allowed scientists to examine small samples of the Great Paling. Every one of them reached an impossible conclusion: the Great Paling was composed of one hundred percent pure aetherium—but it was completely and utterly inert.
It was proof of God, the Church said. It was merely a previously unknown configuration of aetherium, the materialists and atheists insisted. All I knew was that even though the molecular structure of the divine substance was well-known in the scientific community, no one had yet succeeded in perfectly replicating it without triggering lethal doses of radiation.
Too soon it was my turn at the Theograph. The granite table upon which it lay was covered with a piece of red and white cloth bearing golden suns and hexagrams. An ornately carved candelabra mounting a half-dozen lit candles stood at either end of the table. The Theograph rested in the middle of the table, open to a page somewhere in the middle.
Leaning forward, I kissed the Theograph. The page was warm and moist from countless mouths. Clasping my hands, I lowered my head. But I couldn’t escape the light issuing from the Great Paling.
Why are you here, Luke Landon?
Cover for action. Circumstances. I had to study the entire building, pick out the entrances and exits and danger areas. But those answers didn’t quite feel right either.
I still didn’t know. On the other hand, since I was here…
I don’t know if you, any of you, are out there. But Hakem exists. Sol Invictus exists. I suppose there’s a chance you might, too. If you are, and if you’ve been watching out for me… for my team… thanks.
You’re welcome.
I snapped my eyes open.
Was that my imagination? Or was it something else?
The atmosphere was getting to me. I had to leave. I stepped away from the Theograph and left the nave, Eve right behind me. I didn’t know if she prayed—or if she merely pretended to—and I didn’t feel like asking.
There was one more place to go. The upper floor. This was the realm of the princes of the church and the ladies of the court. The Emperor had to be seen as a man of the people, so he was given the Omphalion on the ground floor, a group of circular marble slabs which only he could occupy. Other powers had other images to uphold.
The central gallery on the upper floor was reserved for the Empress and her court, allowing them to participate in Church proceedings from above. The northern gallery held the offices and conference rooms. Behind closed doors it was the most modern part of the church, betrayed by the keycard access points, the cool air conditioning seeping through the doors’ undercuts, and the armed guards. The southern gallery was completely open to the public, with washrooms, water coolers and side chapels for private worship, counseling and confessions.
Visitors marveled at the columns, the play of light through the windows, the mosaics that covered the walls. I was more interested in the commanding view of the nave and the sanctuary.
“I’ll stay up here and provide overwatch,” I said. “You go meet Mike downstairs.”
Eve nodded. “Okay. See you later.”
She headed down the ramp. After a bathroom break, I positioned myself in the south gallery, pretending to study the intricate mosaics and the vaulting.
A bell rang, reverberating inside the airy church. Guides and monks circulated among the crowd, politely announcing it was almost time for services. Sightseers, here simply to take photos and gush over the architecture, quietly filed out or stood unobtrusively in nooks and crannies. The faithful moved into the nave.
I spotted Eve lingering at the column nearest to the entrance, observing the people entering the nave.
“All call signs, Longsword,” she said. “I’m watching the entrance. No sign of Mike yet. Over.”
“Roger, Longsword,” I said. “Keep us posted.”
Some people headed upstairs. Soon, I was surrounded by families and couples dressed in their best churchgoing attire. It was a weekday; I didn’t expect so many people here. Then again, in trying times, people sought comfort wherever they could find it.
“All callsigns, Longsword. I see Mike.”
“Where?” I asked.
“He just passed through the central entrance. White shirt, brown trousers, dark hair.”
I saw Mike. Unlike the others, he paused in place, looking around. Eve waved at him and approached.
He held up his hands, waving her away, and strode toward a patch of empty ground.
“I see him, but what is he doing?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Wait.”
A hologram appeared across his face.
“Is that a message?” I asked.
“Yes. It says… They have my wife and daughter. I’m sorry.”
“What the…” I almost finished the question and then remembered where I was. Instead, I said, “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
He gestured frantically at her. Eve backed away. Tourists walked around him, oblivious to the drama. He glanced around and sprinted toward empty ground.
“Longsword, Preacher. The guards are agitated. What’s happening?”
Cops yelled at him. A nearby guard tensed, bringing his carbine to the shoulder.
“Mike is running to the Omphalion. Don’t know what he’s–”
Tourists backed away. He stood in the middle of the nave, arms outstretched. The guards yelled orders. He ignored them, throwing his head back.
“I HAVE A BOMB! RUN!”
He exploded.
10. Intercession
My ears rang. I winced, ducking behind the guardrail. People screamed around me. Men yelled orders. Bracing myself, I looked at the site of the blast.
Red and black streaks marred the ancient stone. Motes of dust danced in the air. A severed arm lay near the floor. Children shrieked. Adults groaned.
“Fisher! Longsword! You okay? What the hell happened in there?” Keith demanded.
“Fisher here. I’m good. Longsword?”
Eve coughed. “I’m okay. I’m okay!”
“Roger. What in the name of God was that?” Keith said.
“Suicide bomb,” I reported. “But I don’t think Mike was willing.”
“RPG!” Keith yelled. “Get down!”
I hit the deck. Moments later, the anti-tank rockets struck. The shockwave rocked the building. The floor shook. Dust poured on me. Nearby, a girl screamed.
“Preacher, Fisher. What’s happening?” I asked.
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard the distinctive chatter of high-caliber machine guns. Multiple.
“Two vans just pulled up outside the church,” Keith said. “Eight shooters got out. Giants. They hit the entrance with RPGs. They’re engaging the guards and storming the church. They have PKMs. What’s the call?”
“Copy all. Break. Nemesis call signs. Get ready to extract us. Do not—say again—do NOT, get into a three-way gunfight. Break. Longsword, where are you? You okay?”
Eve coughed, stepping out from around a column, supporting herself with an arm.
“I’m okay. I think.” She coughed. “I can’t hear out of my left ear.”
The gunfire grew closer. The enemy was right outside.
“Longsword, get clear of the nave now!”
&n
bsp; Pumping her arms and legs, she ran in the direction of the sanctuary.
The guard yelled orders in Hellenic. Getting to a semi-crouch, I guided nearby people into a side chapel. A young woman was frozen on the spot, her eyes locked open in an unseeing stare, her mouth wide open. I gripped her shoulders and shoved her toward the open door.
“Get inside!” I shouted. “Go!”
“HAKEMU VALFUR!”
They were inside.
The guard raced to the parapet, cracking off single aimed shots. Shouting orders, I gestured the other civilians into cover, switching between Anglian, Hellenic and Arabic to suit the audience.
“Fisher, Preacher! Assault team is inside! I count six of them! Two more are taking security positions outside. We go in now, they’re gonna intercept us.”
“Preacher, Brick. Be advised: we’ve got cops rolling in hot. We can’t afford to be mistaken for the bad guys.”
“All Nemesis callsigns, Fisher. Let the cops handle the giants. Lay low and develop the situation.”
Long bursts raked the galleries. I ducked. The guard’s head erupted in blood and gore. I crawled over to him, dragging him out of the line of fire.
He was clearly dead. I unslung his M865 carbine from around his neck and retracted the bolt. Brass winked back at me. I glanced at the magazine. The polymer window said it was half-empty. His vest was too small for me. I tore open his magazine pouches, reloaded the carbine, and stuffed a fresh mag into each of my pants pocket.
He had a pistol strapped to his thigh, a Heckler & Koch VP90. I shoved the handgun into my waistband and peeked above the parapet.
Two giants raced for the ramp to the upper floor. One giant stood at the entrance to the north gallery, covering the nave, while his partner swept into the gallery proper. The remaining two were out of sight. Flicking off the safety, I aimed the carbine at the first pair of giants, placing the front sight post on the closest shooter, and fired.
The round smacked into the wall next to his face.
Spinning around, he dropped to a knee and laid down suppressive fire. More gunfire smashed at the walls. I backed away from the parapet, crawling toward the end of the gallery.
“Longsword, where are you?” I demanded.
“In the sanctuary,” she replied. “The priests are ushering people inside.”
“Roger. Stay put.”
I poked my weapon out of cover and fired in the general direction of the ramp. The return fire intensified.
“Fisher, Brick. The enemy’s security elements just took out the first responders. We’re the only ones who can stop them.”
Backing up, I rolled to my left and reoriented on the north gallery on the ground floor. One giant was gone. The other was leaning out behind a pillar. I blasted away at him, driving him back into cover.
“Brick, Fisher. Take ‘em out.”
“Roger. Going hot!”
I shifted positions again, heading toward the sanctuary, and scanned. Two giants were racing to the iconostasis, about to breach the Holy Doors.
I didn’t know what the iconostasis was made of, and I didn’t trust the carbine’s zero. A missed shot could penetrate it.
Only one thing left to do.
I glanced behind me. All the civilians were clear.
“Longsword, Fisher. Two giants are about to breach the sanctuary. Gonna drop in.”
“You’re going to what?”
Shielding my right hand from the nearest camera with my body, I opened my charagma. It felt like driving my head into a wall. I gritted my teeth and pushed, and suddenly golden light erupted from the back of my hand, forming a faintly glowing sun.
White-hot spikes stabbed through my temples. I pushed through the pain, and the light condensed into a thin shaft. I tried to grow it—and strands of barbed wire wrapped around my brain.
Breathing through the pain, I checked my soul. The pearl glowed bright. The abyssal whirlpool was frozen, its mouth sealed off with a translucent screen. Above the pearl, the heavenly siphon was blindingly bright.
I streamed aether into the upper portal. The pain remained, but I pushed again, and the shaft transformed into a tomahawk.
I saw the leading giant boot the double doors open. Took a deep breath. Ran.
Jumped.
“KTISES NIKA!” I roared.
A brief, glorious moment of flight. I cleared the guardrail. The floor rushed up to me. My subconscious mind gibbered at the insanity of the situation. My conscious mind noted that the giants were wearing plate carriers. As I fell, I wrapped myself in a thick radiation shield.
My target looked up.
I covered my face and spiked him in the head.
It was like a bomb went off inside his skull. Bone fragments ripped across my flesh and bone. If I hadn’t covered my head, I might have lost an eye. At the last moment I twisted gravity and landed as lightly as a feather.
I boosted my limbs. A fiery snake roiled in my brain. I gritted my teeth and shoved past the falling giant. The other one, a look of surprise etched on his face, swung his PKM to meet me.
Too late.
Sidestepping, I hooked his weapon arm and yanked it down as he pulled the trigger. The machine gun chewed into the floor. I grabbed his elbow, pulled him into a throat shot, and turned the axe into a directed plasma charge. The plume vaporized his skull.
I shut down the flow of soul, shoved the corpse aside and ran for the doors. Autofire rang out. As I burst through, hot, searing pain slashed across my right thigh.
I tripped. Caught my fall. Rolled off the line of fire.
“Luke!” Eve yelled.
I got up. She was on the left of the door, ready to ambush anyone who got in. She was the only one crouching; everybody else was huddled up on the floor.
“Hey,” I said.
“You sure know how to make an entrance.”
“Thanks.”
Rounds smacked against the iconostasis. I ducked. A couple of bullets broke through, showering me in dust.
“What do we do now?” Eve yelled.
“Fisher, Preacher,” Keith radioed. “Brick and I just took out the security team. We’re right outside. What’s the call?”
“We are pinned down in the sanctuary on the first floor,” I said. “At least two giants in the north gallery. Two more giants on the upper floor. Can’t tell where. The call is breach and clear. Break.
“When you enter, the ramp to the upper floor is on your left. Head up and eliminate the giants on the upper floor. If you have the angle, flank the ones on the ground floor, too. Eve and I will hold out here.”
“Roger. We’re coming in hot.”
“Fisher, your leg is bleeding,” Eve said.
I looked down. A round had torn through the outside of my right thigh. It didn’t hurt much, but blood dripped on the floor. I could still move my leg, but it was weakened, almost non-responsive.
Blood trickled down my left arm, too. There were bone chips embedded in my forearm. I tried to close my fingers. Nothing happened.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
“What happened to your right hand?” she asked.
The charagma was gone. The light had retreated, leaving only a complex design the color of old scar tissue. I felt around for my connection to Sol Invictus.
Nothing.
“It’s the paling,” I said.
Even the soul boosting trick wouldn’t work here. Just as well; I didn’t want to frighten the civilians even more.
“I can’t pull my trump card here,” she said. “Any ideas?”
I looked at the Great Paling. Looked at her. Looked back at it.
“Just one.”
She helped me to my feet. “Where are you going?”
“The altar.”
“Getting religious now?”
“Very funny.”
Pain shot through my right leg with every step. Limping over to the altar, I pressed my left hand against the Great Paling. It was unnaturally hot to the touch. I touched m
y mind to it.
At the core of my being, a singularity exploded. The light birthed a sea of plasma and exotic particles. Particles and antiparticles smashed into each other, annihilating in bursts of energy. Superdense clouds of gas spiraled and expanded outward. Other particles fused and transmuted, growing into stars that flew off into every direction in the newborn universe.
And as I observed the particles, I had the uncanny feeling that they were observing me.
A voice, deep and ringing, filled all of Creation.
Why are you here?
It wasn’t al-Hakem al-Dunya.
It wasn’t Sol Invictus.
It wasn’t the Unmaker.
It was… something else.
Someone else.
I swallowed. Tried to find an answer. No thoughts came from my brain. Instead, I saw a stream of memories, history replaying in first person.
I was once again in the Church of Hagia Meira in New Haven, once again a teenage boy fleeing the New Haven World Fair terrorist attack. The priest promised safety. He said the Hexagram would hold the jinn back. The doors burst open. Jinn entered the church. The priest burned.
Everyone burned.
Why are you here? the voice repeated.
For the second time in my life I was caught in a church in the middle of a terrorist attack. The first time I was helpless. But this time…
“Your church is under attack.”
Whom shall I send? Who shall go for us?
“Here I am. Send me.”
Very well.
Power crackled through me, flowing down my arm and engulfing the rest of my body, as though I were drinking in the essence of Creation through my fingers. A pleasant heat filled me, starting from my fingers and toes and flowing to my brain. Bone fragments extracted themselves from my left arm and fell to the floor, and the wounds scabbed over and healed in an eyeblink. The ringing in my ears ceased. At the edge of my hearing, I made out… singing.
Holy, holy, holy is God Almighty, he who was, is and shall be!
My leg didn’t hurt any more. I placed my weight on it. It was back to full strength.
I stepped away from the altar. In my mind’s eye, I saw a pure white flame burning within, as focused as a laser. The source of that power flowed to the hexagram, itself a conduit for a power infinitely greater.
Hammer of the Witches (The Covenant Chronicles Book 2) Page 34
