The Ancient Evil, page 3
part #25 of Red Cross of Gold Series
Ereshkigal glanced at his colorful clothes and smiled.
“I had not expected to be received with such warmth, Adar. I rather like this colorful change in you. You look very much like your Gate tonight. Most appealing.” She said. She leaned forward and raised one dark eyebrow. “What is this plan, you have concocted?”
“Well, you see…” Mark began to lay out his plan to her, as more people spilled out of the keep, to see what new disaster had come to them now.
Chapter Two
It is better to hear the rebuke of the wise, than for a man to hear the song of fools.
Three hours remained before Ramsay’s deadline was up, and the watchmen aboard the HMS Norsworthy had seen nothing in the dense blackness that surrounded their ship. They had walked the rails, endlessly, for nine hours without luck. Their most powerful search beams seemed to be swallowed in the unnatural darkness, and their nerves were frayed by the dark clouds that covered the sky and absorbed their flares as if they were match sticks. Their advanced radar and sonar technology gave no indications of movement below, on the surface or in the air. No word had come from the bridge to explain what had caused this strange darkness to fall over the Irish Sea surrounding the island in the middle of a bright spring morning. Two of the sailors on duty met on the catwalk below the bridge and leaned on the railing, training the two search lights in the general direction of the wharf below the island’s main gatehouse.
“Did you see that?!” One of the sailors asked the other.
The light, barely, reached the long wharf where several small boats were moored. The entire island was swathed in complete darkness, and the wharf was a, barely discernible hulk of darker mass against the deeper darkness beyond the dull glitter of light on the water. Sounds were muffled and unrecognizable. Not a light shone anywhere on the isle. The HMS Norsworthy continued to send up flares from time to time to check the dense cloud cover above the islands. The flares would light up the roiling mass for only a few seconds before being consumed. The clouds seemed to be in violent motion, but not the slightest breeze ruffled the pennants on the yardarm. Every footstep, every noise the watch made in their rounds seemed amplified and, at the same time, muffled and surreal. The sailors were not happy with this odd situation. None of them had ever seen such a thing. They expected something horrible to descend from the sky on them at any moment.
“There it is, again!” He pointed toward the invisible shoreline as a series of bright flashes shown, momentarily, in the inky blackness.
“Yeah! Yeah, I see it.” The other man whispered as he swung his light back along the length of the decking. A man was running down the wharf at breakneck speed. The sailors both jumped at the sound of automatic rifle fire and more flashes erupted from the base of the cliff. The muffled noise of the shots drifted to their ears across the water.
“Look!” The first sailor pointed and struggled with the light to keep up with the man’s progress. “They’re shooting at him!!”
“There he goes! He’s in the drink!”
The first sailor turned and shouted up, excitedly, to the officer of the deck.
“Man overboard!! Man overboard!!”
He spun about and trained his light on the tossing waves as the fleeing figure began to swim, haphazardly, toward them. An alarm sounded aboard ship and more lights joined the first two. Sailors poured from belowdecks and worked, frantically, to prepare a lifeboat for launching at the command of the officer of the deck. Shouts went up; adding to the confusion and more rifle fire was heard coming from at least two points on the shore, directed at the fugitive. The patrols on the gunboat returned fire, but it was, merely, a distraction technique. They had no hope of hitting anything important with no targets in their sites.
Within ten minutes, they had scooped the flailing man from the sea and brought him aboard the Norsworthy. The captain met him on the deck, as he fell from the ladder, soaking wet and shivering from the cold water. Two marines helped him up, and then, searched him for hidden weapons before releasing him.
“I am Commander Hemsley.” The captain addressed the man who stood staring at him, wide-eyed, in the light of the bright flashlights trained on his face.
“Sir! They tried to kill me!” He blurted.
“Who are you? Identify yourself!” The master-at-arms prodded him with a baton.
“My name is William von Hetz! They are killing everyone. It’s a massacre!” The half-drowned man sagged, and the two sailors, who had helped him from the lifeboat, grabbed him again.
“Bring him to my stateroom.” The captain ordered. “Find him some dry clothes.”
A half hour later, Commander Hemsley was on a secure line to King William Henry’s chamberlain.
“Yes, my Lord. He says, the Ramsay brothers are on the island, but they have incited the others to murder and mayhem. He says, they have escaped, en masse, to the large island.”
He paused and narrowed his eyes at the frightened man, who sat holding a hot cup of tea, in trembling hands.
“Of course, sir.” He nodded. “He said, they were taking something… a skull, or some such, over to the main island and something about a black mass, and witchcraft, and sorcery. He seems a bit hysterical. Incoherent, if you will… yes, sir!” The captain stood up. “Of course, sir!”
The captain held the phone to his ear and paced the floor of the cabin.
“Your Highness!” He said after a moment and stood at attention as if the King could see him.
“Yes, Your Grace! That’s correct. A crystal skull. Yes, Your Grace. The man’s name is William von Hetz. He said, the brothers were killing anyone who would dare to oppose them.”
He spun on his heel and approached William.
“The King wishes to speak with you!” He thrust the phone at the shaking man.
William put the phone to his ear and stared into Hemsley’s eyes.
“Your Highness?”
“What are they going to do with the skull?” The King asked him without preamble.
“I’m not sure, sir. I heard them talking about making a match for Jozsef Daniel. Something about using magick to put the skull inside one of the Knights of the Council.”
“What?! Can you… did you see the skull, man? What did it look like?”
“It was hideous, sir! Hollow eyes! A gold band on its head like a crown!”
“The head of Bran the Blessed!” The King shouted in the phone, and William frowned at the instrument. “Right. Well. Where are they taking it? Speak up, and I will reward you amply.”
“To the center of the island, sir. I heard them talking about it. There is a place there, where the Order used to keep helicopters and weapons. That is where, they will go.”
“Right. Well. Of course. Can you take my men there?”
“I could try… no! They’ll kill me.” William began to cry. “They killed my wife.” He sobbed in the phone.
“Great God in heaven! But, we’ll protect you, man. My marines are the finest in the world. Do they have weapons?”
“Some rifles, a few pistols. Nothing major, Your Grace!” William answered him.
“Right. Well. If you will cooperate with us Mr. Vanetts, I promise you, you will get revenge for your wife’s death.” The King told him with conviction.
“Von Hetz, sir… I don’t know… I’m afraid.”
“Right. Well. Of course, you are, man. I’m sorry about the missus. Put Commander Hemsley back on the line.”
William handed the phone back to the Captain.
“Your Highness.”
“Listen, Arnold, see if you can get this fool to cooperate. See if he will agree to lead a raiding party inland. We don’t need to go on a full scale invasion if we can avoid it. There are innocent women and children on the island. And well, yes, right. I wouldn’t want to cause a scandal.”
“Sir, have you been informed of the weather conditions here?”
“Weather? Right. Well. What… a storm?”
“No, Your Grace. It is quite calm, but it has been pitch dark here since 0940 hours. There is some sort of cloud cover that is limited only to the vicinity of St. Patrick’s Island and the Isle of Ramsay. It extends only half a klick from the shore. It does not seem natural, sir. The clouds appear to be moving, but there is no hint of a breeze. In all my experience, sir, I have never seen these conditions in the Irish Sea. I believe, they are using the anomaly to shield their movements from scrutiny.”
“Right. Right. Well. Most likely. Have you seen anything that would suggest they have advanced weaponry?”
“Not likely, or else they would have used it by now, Your Grace.”
“Right. Right. Well. Keep an eye out and work on our friend there. See what else you can learn. How many we might be up against, and so on and so forth. I might be flying up, myself.”
“Excellent, Your Grace! I would be honored.”
“Right. Well. Of course. Good day, to you, sir.”
Commander Hemsley replaced the phone on the cradle and sat on the edge of the desk. The king’s repeated use of the words ‘right’ and ‘well’ indicated that the king was very nervous and upset about something.
“Now, Mr. von Hetz, let’s go over this situation again, from the beginning.”
William nodded and smiled slightly, as the steward came to pour more tea for him. Another steward arrived with an array of biscuits and crumpets.
“You are no doubt a Christian man?” William looked up at him from his intense, green eyes.
“Of course!” Hemsley waved one hand, casually.
“Do you believe in demons, sir?” William raised both eyebrows.
“I believe there are things we know nothing of… I can’t say, I actually believe in demons with pitchforks and cloven feet, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, sir, you may find this hard to believe but…”
111
Konrad and Apolonio abandoned their positions at the base of the cliff near the lower gatehouse, slinging their rifles over their shoulders, as they scrambled up the dark rocks toward the gate. They were the last two on the island. Everyone else had gone over to the big island, a few hours before William had run down the wharf and jumped into the sea. They had continued to fire into the water, until the presence of a nearby gunboat had made them run for cover. Konrad and his grandson had watched, until they made sure William was safely plucked from the dark waters. Now, they rushed headlong through the deserted bailey where two mounted horses waited for them. They rode toward the postern gate, entered the tunnel, and rode under the wall, and down to the beach, doubly protected under cover of the darkness and the trench walls on either side of them. They rode onto the narrow beach and headed straight for a glowing green light that appeared to hover above the sand. The light looked like a long, narrow tube and extended out across the water toward the other island.
Apolonio gave a loud cry of fear as his horse plunged into the light and disappeared. Several minutes later, the two horses struck the sand on the beach of the Isle of Ramsay. Two horsemen sat on the beach waiting for them. Konrad reined in his horse beside Barry and glanced at Philip d’Ornan who sat with him.
“Did they take him?” Barry asked the Knight of the Apocalypse.
“Yes, Brother. They picked him up.” Konrad nodded.
“Do you think he can pull it off?” Philip asked, as they turned about, and trotted up the beach four abreast on the rocky trail.
“William can do it, f anyone can.” Konrad told them. “By the Grace of God, he must.”
When they topped the rise, they stopped and waited until the green tube rolled up like a scroll from either end and blinked out of sight.
111
The Grand Master was having a great deal of trouble with Lucio. The Italian was balking at every move they made. Even after, they had modified their plans to include the dangerous ruse, wherein, William von Hetz would attempt to add fuel to the flames of the Royal greed by telling tales of the crystal skull, Lucio still did not think the plan would work. He wanted to abandon the island, altogether, and proceed directly to Germany by use of the magick garters of the Wisdom of Solomon.
Edgard d’Brouchart’s will was gradually weakening under the double onslaught of Catharine and the Golden Eagle. They were putting on a good floor show, full of reasons why they should not hesitate to take the skulls to Germany, and how, foolhardy, this bid for the English throne was in light of the danger presented by the possibility, they might be defeated under the onslaught of the superior English forces. Lucio pointed out that once the skulls were properly in place and protected, and they had met again with the powers of the Abyss, they would be able to dispose of Jozsef Daniel. After that, there would be plenty of time to go after the English King when he had no backing. Edgard had listened to them with growing interest. Their case was strong. Very strong, in spite of the fact, he was smoldering with rage against the Italian.
After all these years, to have lost Catharine to Lucio Dambretti was making the Grand Master fume and stew in his own juices like a good mutton stew, and Mark Andrew was enjoying every moment of it. A memory of a similar circumstance not so very long past, where d’Brouchart had, actually, helped the Golden Eagle take Meredith from him. There was not a doubt in his mind; the Master was paying for that little mistake now. But, gloating was a sin, and Mark had to cross himself and say a quick prayer asking forgiveness; before once more, spurring his horse forward. He caught up with the Master as he rode alongside Luke Matthew and Simon of Grenoble at the head of the column, headed for the low hills in the interior of the island.
“Brother Ramsay.” Edgard acknowledged the Knight of Death as he fell in with them. “A word with you please.”
Mark Andrew slowed his horse again and allowed Simon and Luke to ride a bit farther on.
“The Golden Eagle has pointed out, if we should fail here, the skulls will fall into the hands of the enemy. There will be nothing to stop him from reaching his goal. It makes me wonder why we need to have Luke on the throne, before we make sure that Jozsef Daniel is vanquished. I would request, you hear him out. I understand you have been avoiding him. I believe we may want to reconsider this, before it is too late.”
“You are the Master, Edgard.” Mark Andrew told him in a low voice. “It will, ultimately, fall on your shoulders, but I assure you, Jozsef Daniel will not show his face here. It will do no harm to take England now, before he does. It will create a larger buffer between Germany and Jozsef Daniel. He can travel alone, granted, but he cannot transport the forces he will need to defeat us in Germany, if my brother, and France, and the rest of the continent stands between us and him. Louis will, no doubt, be called to France, any moment.”
“You speak of any moment, du Morte!” Edgard raised his voice and stood in his stirrups. “By God, do you realize where we are? This is the middle of nowhere! How are we to receive a summons, any moment, for Louis Champlain, and who is going to call him?”
“Barry is working on his royal cloak, Your Grace.” Mark shrugged, slightly, and adjusted the tartan on his shoulder. He had exchanged Luke Andrew’s low-cut shoes and knee socks for knee-high leather boots that laced up the sides. A wicked dagger was attached to the top of the left boot. He wore a heavier, working belt with the kilt and had his golden sword at his hip in an ornately tooled, black leather scabbard. He also wore a pistol holstered at the small of his back and another Scottish dirk on the belt under his right elbow. He was almost indistinguishable from his son, Luke, from a distance. “The time is near. Once, we have England and France in hand, the rest will fall into place.”
“Your confidence is exceeded only by Dambretti’s arrogance! What can this band of soldiers hope to accomplish against the Royal Marines? The darkness will not stop them.”
“Ye of little faith, Edgard. There is more to Ereshkigal’s power than a bit of smoke. The good Queen has agreed to put everything she can muster at our disposal to ensure the safety of her daughter… your granddaughter, by the by, and her son… Lucio’s son, I might add. She will keep her word.”
“She has more of these boogins?” Edgard glanced over his shoulder. Somewhere at the end of the column was the Queen’s personal guard. The ragged captain, Plotius, and his herd of snuffling beasts with pointed sticks and clubs. Not a comforting thought.
“Boggans.” Mark corrected him. “Yes. Many more.”
“And, where is Luke Andrew? Where did he go? Will he be back?”
“Of course, he will be back, and you will see, another of your sons will come to our aid.”
“My sons? Your speech will cause you harm, my friend.” D’Brouchart growled at him.
“Lucio is by extension your son, is he not? And Simon? And your grandsons? You should be concerned for their safety. This is the best way.”
“And, who is coming?” D’Brouchart asked him.
“Corrigan will come. He owes my son a favor.” Mark smiled, crookedly. “Your old friend, Lugh, knows what is at stake. He will see to it King Corrigan comes to our aid.”
“Ahhh. Alexander.” D’Brouchart nodded.
“And then, there is Inanna. I could call on her.” Mark reminded him.
