The Ancient Evil

  The Red Cross of Gold XXV:.

  “The Ancient Evil”

  Assassin Chronicles

  By

  Brendan Carroll

  Copyright 2011

  The Ancient Evil is dedicated to everyone who has ever wondered if anything exists beyond the Abyss.

  And to my good friends: David and Margaret Mullen for their great patience and wonderful talent that has helped make this book the best book possible.

  The characters are fictional and any resemblance to real persons alive or dead is unintentional and coincidental.

  Brendan Carroll can be reached on Facebook or on Twitter @BrendanCarroll7.

  http://brendan-carroll.com

  The Red Cross of Gold XXV:. The Ancient Evil

  Published by Brendan Carroll

  Prologue

  Vanni stood beneath the statue of the Magdalene in the Chapel of Glessyn. He knew very well, he should not be here so far from home, but when his father had told him, they could not come back here, perhaps forever, he had panicked at the thought of leaving his beautiful angel all alone in the old chapel. He had made use of the tunnels under St. Patrick’s to come to Lothian at great peril. He had meant to come alone, but Selwig had followed, unbeknownst to him, until he had emerged into the twilight of late afternoon, on the meadow. The Tuathan healer had frightened him half to death as he had been scaling the wrought iron fence around the cairn, but now, he was glad for the little healer’s company. The old estate was, completely, deserted. The house stood empty and dark. The outbuildings were no less ominous in their silence. Vanni was, greatly, saddened to leave the place that had become home to him in a very short time. He desperately wished, his father had come here with them, but he knew his father would never have allowed him to make the trip, nor would he have brought him here. Lucio and the members of the Council were very busy planning their next war. Selwig had told him so. There would be great works in the offing soon, and Selwig had warned him to be ready for almost anything.

  Vanni had grown another two inches and was almost as tall as his father now. He was a bit thinner, but for all intents and purposes, he was grown in the physical sense. Greta had been very sad to see him grow up so fast. She wanted him to remain a child with her, but, alas, he had been unable to control his rapid growth. Selwig had assured him, it was quite natural, and Greta would catch up with him, eventually. In the meantime, he would have to wait for her to grow up a bit. Selwig also warned him, he must be very careful with her, because she was a delicate creature, fragile of bone and flesh. Vanni had assured the healer, he would always see, she was treated with great care. In fact, he had taken Selwig’s warnings to heart, so sincerely, Greta had fussed at him for ‘hovering’ over her. He didn’t know, exactly, what she meant by that, but he knew his feelings for her had changed, remarkably. Somehow, she had become like a little sister to him now, instead of a beautiful girl, and he had an urgent need to protect her, especially from King Il Dolce Mio, whom he saw as a serious rival where Greta was concerned.

  He had voiced his concerns about the elven King’s designs of matrimony for Greta, and Lucio had frowned at him. He had asked his father to speak to King Ramsay, about his son, and his father had told him not to be silly. This had hurt his feelings, very badly, and had given him that last bit of courage he had needed to make the unauthorized trip to Lothian. He would consult his angel, about Greta, and, if possible, bring her back to St. Patrick’s Island. Of course, he had given no thought as to how he might accomplish such a task. He had questioned several of the d’Ornan brothers concerning the statue in the chapel and had learned it had been brought to Lothian from the south of France… very far away, apparently. If it had been transported once, it could be transported again.

  “What do you intend to do, Vanni?” Selwig asked him from the open door of the chapel. Selwig did not want to enter the dim interior of the church. Nothing had changed here, as far as, he was concerned. The place was still very terrible to him.

  “I don’t know.” Vanni turned about, frowning at him. “I am very stupid. I didn’t plan any way to move her!”

  “She looks heavy.” Selwig squinted at the painted marble form above the cistern. “She may be attached to the pedestal.”

  “Attached?” Vanni stepped around the shell-shaped Holy Water fount and examined the base of the statue. Her toes peeked from under the folds of her robes. He pulled his dagger from his belt and slid the edge of it under the gown. It slipped under the marble, slightly. “I don’t think so. She is just standing there.”

  He wrapped his arms around the statue at about knee height and tried to move it. Even, with all his strength, he could not begin to budge the heavy work of art.

  “No!” Selwig shouted at him. “It will fall on you.”

  Vanni let go of it, and stepped back. He could not imagine having come this far, for nothing.

  “Perhaps, you should simply ask her to go with us.” Selwig suggested. “You said, she talked to you before.”

  “Ahh. Si`! She did.” Vanni smiled at the healer.

  “Then, just talk to her or do whatever you did before.” Selwig urged him, nervously. “And, please hurry! We should get back, before they miss us. We will be in great trouble, my friend, if your father or King Ramsay finds out we are gone.”

  Vanni nodded and ran his fingers through his curly beard. He had stopped shaving during the winter, and no one had said anything to him. His father had been appalled to see his beard, but had not told him to shave it. He hated shaving! He always cut himself, and he did not want a scar on his face like his father and his brother, Galen. He climbed onto the font as he had before and stood facing the statue in the growing gloom. She was as lovely as ever, but still not as beautiful as his dark-haired angel, Santa Lucia. He was eye level with her, now, since he had grown, and it was much easier to reach her face.

  “Hello, my, lovely, Saint!” He whispered to her and ran his hand over the fine grained marble of her face before leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Please, speak to me. It’s me, Vanni!”

  He drew back and frowned at the statue. The stone was still stone. There was no change, whatsoever. The eyes were still blue, and the hair still blonde. Something that Dan and Matt d’Ornan had told him was not right at all. Mary Magdalene, they had said, was, most likely, a dark-haired, brown-eyed woman, not blonde. Vanni had not understood why they would say such a thing. Santa Lucia was dark-haired and brown-eyed. Mary Magdalene had been blonde. That much was evident or else why would this statue be so? He had argued with them that they were wrong, and they had laughed at him, but what did they know? The great prophet, John Paul, would never have brought this statue here, if it had been wrong! King Il Dolce Mio had told him this when he had discussed the statue and Santa Lucia with him, and the King was very well educated. He knew things.

  “Santa Lucia? Are you there?” He squinted, closely, at the face.

  “She is not there.” Selwig called to him. “Let’s leave this place! It is growing dark, and I hear things in the wood.”

  Vanni was, extremely, disappointed. He jumped down to the floor and walked toward Selwig. They would have to go back empty-handed. He stopped at the sight of a dark shadow that stepped up behind the healer.

  “Selwig!” Vanni shouted at the healer.

  Selwig turned, and then, stumbled backwards into the church. Vanni grasped him by the shoulders and righted him. He drew his sword from the scabbard, and pushed the Tuathan behind him.

  “Who are you?!” He demanded as the man silhouetted in the doorway swayed back and forth, slightly.

  “I am Plotius. Servant to the Queen!” The voice was raspy. He wore ragged clothes, and his hair was long and wild about his head.

  “What Queen?!” Vanni brandished the sword, but realized this creature was not alone. There were other things outside the chapel. He could hear them now, snuffling about and snorting like big dogs.

  “Her magnificence, Queen Ereshkigal of the Fifth Gate. What are you doing here?”

  “That is none of your business, sir!” Vanni backed away from the door, pushing Selwig behind him.

  “I know this creature.” Selwig whispered, breathlessly. “He speaks the truth!”

  “Why are you here? This is not your home!” Vanni asked the ragged man that carried himself more like an animal than a man. “Did the Queen send you?”

  “She bade me see after this place. You are trespassing on Ramsay property. Come out here so we may see you.”

  “No!” Vanni shook his head. “You do not know with whom you are trifling, sir!”

  “You are the one called Vannistephanetti, and your friend is Selwig Scranstopellish, the Tuathan healer, formerly in the employ of King Corrigan of the Tuatha de Danann, now servant to King Ramsay. Your father is Lucius Apollo Dambretti of Venetia, son of the Doge of Venice, former consort of Queen Ereshkigal. You should not be here. It is very dangerous. The Queen will be angry!”

  “It is none of the Queen’s affair, whether I come or whether I go. This was my home!” Vanni told him.

  “Your mother will punish me, if I do not guard this place well. Many evil things come here! You are in danger!”

  “My mother?” Vanni almost dropped his sword. “You know my mother?”

  “Of course. Your mother is my Mistress. You are the son of the Queen! Did your father not tell you?”

  “I don’t, believe you!” Vanni looked around at the cowering form of the Tuathan, the sight of the boggan, and the pressure of being inside the chapel was
more than he could bear. “Selwig! Is this true? Did you know this?”

  “Your father will be angry!” Selwig cried.

  “My father?” Vanni turned his attention back to Plotius. “Do you know my father?”

  “Your father is the one called the Golden Eagle! Very dangerous! Lucius of Venetia! He will beat you if he finds you here.”

  “You don’t know that!” Vanni was almost in a panic now. “Where is the Queen? I would speak to her.”

  “She is not here.” Plotius spread his hands in front of him. “Please, sir, I beg you. Come out of there. It is very evil there! Come out, and we will see you on your way.”

  Vanni could see, the strange creature was, sincerely, frightened, and he could hear Selwig whining behind him. He grabbed the Tuathan and shoved him toward the door.

  “Go out there, and wait for me.” He told the healer.

  “No!” Selwig was torn between leaving the chapel and plunging into the darkness outside with the boggans. The light was almost gone, and only the red light of torches danced about in the yard in front of the church.

  “They won’t harm you.” Vanni told him in a softer voice. “I’ll be right there. Trust me.” He looked up at Plotius. “I am the son of the Golden Eagle! If you harm a hair on his head, I will disembowel you and feed your carcass to the carrion crows!”

  “Yes, Master.” Plotius backed down the steps, obediently, and allowed the healer to pass. Several howls went up when Selwig stepped onto the small portico, and Plotius spun about, barking to his companions in their guttural language.

  Vanni turned, quickly, to the statue and leaped onto the cistern again. He grasped the statue by its cold shoulders and looked into her eyes.

  “Please, Santa Lucia! Speak to me!” He was close to tears. His mother was a queen. Queen of the Abyss! He was devastated beyond words. “Help me! Tell me it isn’t so!”

  He leaned his forehead against hers as tears flowed down his face. He almost screamed when he felt her arms encircle him. She pulled him close, and put her lips near his ear.

  “You must go, my brother.” She whispered. “It is not safe, here. Do not be sad about your mother. It is of no consequence. Your father loves you very much. He will need your help. One day, you may come here again, and see me, or you may see me in another place. Tell your father, that which he seeks will act in his favor.”

  “I don’t understand!” Vanni drew back and looked into the dark brown eyes.

  “Tell him to listen for my voice. Now, kiss me.”

  Vanni closed his eyes and kissed her, lightly, on the lips. When he opened his eyes, she was again only stone. He leapt from the cistern and ran toward the door. The boggans set up another howl as they saw the blade of his sword flash in the torchlight. Selwig caught his arm, and they began to run back toward the house, as the boggans and Plotius, their captain, trundled along behind him with the torches bobbing and weaving under the trees. They made it halfway back to the house when another line of red lights approached them, blocking their way.

  “Boggarts!” Plotius shouted and jerked a heavy club from his leather belt.

  “Boggarts?” Vanni drew up short in the grass.

  “I told you, it was dangerous here!” Plotius shouted to him. He turned to his troop and swirled the club over his head, calling to them in his ugly language. The boggans answered him with wild whooping and warbling, raising their torches and waving their heavy sticks and clubs.

  Selwig drew his own short blade and slung his yellow bag over his back, preparing to join the eminent battle. The enemy force was charging them now, and the noise was deafening as the two howling parties crashed into each other. Vanni began to shout and scream as he ran into the fray, swinging his sword left and right at the lumbering creatures.

  Chapter One

  “How will we find her?” Lucio asked Mark Andrew as they walked across the bailey toward the mews.

  “That will not be easy. We might be able to locate her with magick and that would cut down, considerably, on the search time, but America is torn apart. She could be in the west and that, too, would make things a bit easier. I am told, the western states of the old United States and the western provinces of Canada and Alaska are still holding to some semblance of what was. The advance of the Emperor has been stopped in the mountains. If she is beyond the Great Divide, then, she may be found and brought back. We still have a few loose ends to worry about, other than Nicole. We will need to make sure everyone is accounted for, and then, endeavor to keep up the count. Simon has had news of Levi from Jerusalem. He has married the girl, Menaka, and taken his place there in the clergy. At least, some things go on according to the greater design. It is enough to make me think, all is not lost.”

  They climbed the ladder attached to the outside of the tower, and then, opened the trap door leading down into the belly of the old structure. Lucio held a flashlight for Mark, and then, dropped it down to him as he descended the steps. They had come here looking for clues as to what had happened to the skull of Santa Lucia. The place was empty and smelled musty. There was nothing here, but dust and cobwebs. Mark played the light over the stone walls and the dirt floor.

  “The sooner we take care of it, the better.” Lucio looked about the chamber, pensively. He did not like the feel of the place. “I would go and take Apolonio.”

  “You cannot go.” Mark shook his head. “It would be too dangerous.”

  “Then, who?” Lucio asked him in aggravation. “You do realize, she will not return, willingly. I am her husband, in spite of, everything. I should have more sway with her than most.”

  “She does not respect that.” Mark Andrew almost laughed. “You simply want to find her, so you can deliver your little paper to her.”

  Lucio frowned. That was true, but he would make his best effort to bring her back. Jozsef Daniel’s cryptic remark to the Knight of Death on the roof of the keep had worried all of them. Not even, Nicole deserved to have the Ancient Evil after her. She was, after all, one of them, and each person Jozsef could take from them and control only added to his power.

  “At any rate, no one can go just yet. We will have to wait until after the war for Britain.” Mark scratched at the dusty floor with his boot. “After that, we will decide who will go. There is nothing here. Whoever took the skull was very discreet. It is as if nothing ever happened here.”

  “You believe, this operation will be cut and dried? Just like that? We will simply take over Britain, and put your brother on the throne?” Lucio, still, could not believe what Mark was planning to do. Mark had created a sort of shielded sanctuary in the basement of the old cathedral of St. Germaine. The Council had met there, and he had laid out his plans in detail for them. As wild as they had sounded and as confident as Mark seemed about them, the Golden Eagle still could not believe what they were about to do. He had no fear of battle and really wanted to do something concrete for a change. He needed to get some of the pent up rage and frustration out of his own blood by shedding someone else’s, but it seemed like a hopeless endeavor. A hard, bloody fight would have done him good, but a suicidal mission was not very attractive. He’d had enough of suicide.

  “It should work. The simpler, the better.” Mark Andrew climbed the steps up to the first landing where the only exterior door in the old monk's refuge was some twelve from the ground. They heard, Apolonio calling to his grandfather when they closed the trapdoor. Lucio walked to the outer door and looked down at his apprentice.

  “Grandfather! Simeon says, Vanni and Selwig are missing.” Apolonio called up to him. “He was supposed to go to class this morning, and he didn’t show up. Simeon sent Greta and Gabriel to look for him, but they couldn’t find him. We’ve been searching everywhere.”

  Mark cursed under his breath and followed his Brother down the ladder. The first thing he thought of was Jozsef’s warning he would take all of them. They hurried back toward the keep where several people were already coming and going through the open doors. They did not have time for this!