The Adept Book 3 The Templar Treasure (29 page)

For his mentor’s aspect had undergone a striking metamorphosis. Superimposed over Adam’s familiar face and form had come the striking likeness of an Egyptian priest-king in flowing robes of translucent linen. The Sceptre and the
skean dubh
were overshadowed by the images of the crook and the flail, the two royal ·symbols of Egyptian authority. Likewise, the golden circlet upon his head now bore the dual aspect of Hebrew diadem and the double crown of Thebes and Memphis, both images wedded to one another in a shimmer of authority derived from the Divine.

His fear all but forgotten in his astonishment, Peregrine realized that the Crown itself must be the focus of the transformation, eliciting past manifestations of Adam’s power from ages gone by to enhance his present authority. Even as that thought crossed his mind, Adam made a sudden move, imperiously indicating the open casket with the Sceptre.

“Go!”
he commanded.
“I charge you to return to the prison which is your only lawful place in this world!”

Howling and frothing, Gog and Magog fought to hold their ground. Implacable, his lean face set like iron, Adam brought the added compulsion of the
skean dubh
to bear, stepping forward as he adamantly directed the two demons toward the casket. When the creatures separated and tried to bolt, Peregrine saw twin arcs of scintillating energy lash out from the implements Adam held in his hands. It caught the demons in a cross-net of white fire, driving them back shrieking in the direction Adam had marked out for them.

They shrank as they retreated before him, screaming in impotent rage before Adam’s compulsion. Relentless, he continued to drive them backwards toward the casket, his dark eyes ablaze with uncompromising authority. Sputtering like spent flares, now chittering almost pitiably, the creatures hovered briefly like so much dirty smoke over the opening until, with a final lash of power, Adam forced them down inside.

As soon as they vanished from view, McLeod cast down his sword and darted forward to slam the lid on the casket.

“Quick! Get the Seal!” he shouted to Peregrine, as he leaned on the lid with all his weight. “Hurry up, man! Don’t just stand there!”

Abandoning his own sword with a clatter, Peregrine lunged to snatch the Seal off the floor where Gerard had dropped it, slipping a little in the gore besmirching the stone.

“What do I do with it now?” he cried wildly.

Adam made no response, all his powers of concentration focused through the Sceptre and
skean dubh
pointed at the casket as something struck the underside of the casket lid with force enough to lift it up a chink. Wrestling it back down with panting effort, McLeod nodded stiffly toward the broken mark of the Seal on the side of the box.

“Set the Seal
there!”
he gasped.

Mentally commending himself to the Light, Peregrine threw himself down on his knees and jammed the Seal down hard over its previous impression in gold. There was a shrill, ululating howl from inside the casket, which was shaking and vibrating, but Peregrine continued to hold the Seal in place, desperately willing the impression to take. McLeod set his hand on it as well, joining his concentration to Peregrine’s. Majestically, still caught up in his overshadowing, Adam stepped close enough to touch the tip of the Sceptre to the gold beside the Seal.

Under their combined force of will, the broken impression softened . like putty, the metal liquefying to spread over the gap. In that brief instant, Peregrine felt the Seal settle under his hand and renew itself. A moment more he held it, then eased the Seal cautiously from the gold. The side of the casket now showed an unbroken imprint of the Seal of Solomon, and all movement inside the casket seemed to have ceased.

“We’ve done it!” Peregrine announced breathlessly. “At least, I
think
we’ve done it.”

With a side glance at Adam, McLeod warily eased his weight off the lid.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

THE SILENCE
was broken only by the sound of harsh breathing as McLeod and Peregrine tried to get their wind back. When no new sound intruded from the casket, McLeod allowed himself a guarded sigh of relief and straightened up.

“I think it’s going to hold,” he announced, still wary.

Adam merely nodded, swaying a little on his feet in momentary light-headedness. With the containment of the twin horrors of Gog and Magog, the astral overlay of Egyptian priest-king had wavered and faded, the aura of power and authority he had wielded only seconds before giving place to a white-lipped pallor born of near exhaustion.

Aware of his two subordinates’ concerned glances, Adam summoned a ragged smile of reassurance and wordlessly handed the Sceptre over to McLeod, then sheathed his
skean dubh
and slipped it back into a pocket. He was reaching up with both hands to remove the Crown when, behind him, Henri Gerard gave a sudden low moan and twitched convulsively. As Adam turned, the distraught man clapped both hands to his ears and uttered a piercing, wild-eyed wail.

“I’d wondered how long that would take,” Adam murmured, as, now whimpering and beginning to sob, Gerard curled into a fetal ball and began banging his forehead against the stone floor. “Noel, I’m going to need a hand with this.”

Passing the Crown and Sceptre to Peregrine, the two of them moved quickly to the Frenchman’s side, Adam seizing him by the shoulders and turning him so that McLeod could get a strong, restraining grip on his wrists.

“Steady on, Mr. Gerard,” Adam said in a low, soothing voice, rummaging in a pocket for one of the pre-loaded syringes. “The danger’s all over. There’s nothing more to be afraid of.”

As he pulled off the needle’s plastic protector with his teeth, the Frenchman gave him a haggard, wild-eyed stare, then flinched away with an anguished howl, bucking convulsively even when McLeod threw his weight upon him to pin him to the floor. Between them, physician and policeman managed to hold their hysterical patient quiet enough for Adam to administer the drug. The Frenchman continued to flop and struggle for several seconds, but then, very suddenly, his body went limp and the terror-stricken eyes rolled upward into merciful oblivion. With a last bubbling moan, he slumped back and was still.

“Hard case!” McLeod breathed, cautiously releasing his grip and getting up off Gerard as Adam monitored the unconscious man’s pulse. “I’ve seen hard-core crack addicts saner than this poor bastard.”

“So have I,” Adam said soberly. “He isn’t going to come out of it, either, without some serious professional help.”

Peregrine’s gaze was troubled as he stared down at the now-sleeping Gerard. “Was it the demons that did this to him?”

“His fear of them certainly helped push him over the edge,” Adam said. “And I’m sure it didn’t help to see his accomplice ripped apart and eaten before his very eyes.” His glance strayed involuntarily to the shattered torso and the smear of entrails and gore that were all that remained of Gerard’s companion. “But he didn’t get to the breaking point overnight. If I had to guess, I’d say his present collapse is the result of a growing complex of obsessions that may be rooted in a past beyond his present lifetime—though if I said that to most psychiatrists, I’d be laughed out of the profession. Whoever gets the job of putting his psyche back together again is going to be in for an interesting time of it.”

Staring down at Gerard, Peregrine was somewhat surprised to discover that he felt more pity than anger for the man who had almost succeeded in loosing two powerful demons upon an unsuspecting world.

“Then you think he can be cured?” he ventured.

“Given time and patience and an open-minded therapist, it’s possible,” Adam allowed. “But I wouldn’t care to even speculate how long it might take.”

He drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “In the meantime, our most immediate priority is to decide what’s to be done about these Templar treasures, to ensure that they never again become a source of dangerous temptation.”

Somewhat dubiously, Peregrine shifted his attention to the Crown and Sceptre he still held in his hands. “I don’t suppose we can simply hide them in some safe place,” he said doubtfully.

“You tell
me
what constitutes a safe place,” McLeod retorted.

Adam nodded slowly, biting at his lip. “Noel’s right. And it isn’t merely a matter of hiding the hallows; there’s the casket itself to be dealt with. Fortunately, we have wiser counsel than our own at our disposal.”

Standing, he surveyed the surrounding circle of knightly sentinels until his regard lighted upon the thirteenth chair that stood empty. Following the direction of Adam’s gaze, Peregrine noticed for the first time that the unoccupied chair was loftier than the other twelve, showing rich and intricate patterns of carving on the arms and high back. Intrigued by this discovery, he realized only belatedly that his mentor was reaching out to relieve him of the Sceptre and the Crown.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to have those back,” Adam told him with a wry smile. “They’re going to be necessary for what remains to be done.”

Suppressing a pang of rising curiosity, Peregrine surrendered the two golden artifacts without question. The Crown Adam took and laid carefully on the empty chair; the Sceptre he set on the floor in front of the chair, turning then to fetch the Seal from where it lay beside the casket.

“Let’s get Mr. Gerard out of here, at least as far as the doorway,” he said, gesturing for his two colleagues to take charge of the unconscious Frenchman. “You’re both free to watch what I’m about to do—in fact, I’d welcome your support on the Inner Planes—but please don’t do anything that might interfere, except in the unlikely event of some interruption from outside.”

Shifting a shoulder each under Gerard’s limp arms, McLeod and Peregrine dragged him over to the doorway and just outside, where they propped him against the corridor wall. Adam, meanwhile, had bent to lay the Seal on the floor beside the Sceptre, and now straightened to face the unoccupied chair. Behind him in the doorway, McLeod and Peregrine took up their Templar swords again and knelt at vigil.

Folding his right hand over his left across his breast, Adam took several slow, deep breaths to center and focus again. As he did so, the physical confines of the room seemed to fade and recede, an astral reality beginning to overlay both the horror and the wonder of what literally surrounded him. The throne became one of a circle of thirteen seats suspended in the midst of a firmament of stars, and as his gaze took in the sparkling, blue-white swirl of astral constellations, he became aware of the sapphire on his right hand as a source of kindred light. Focusing his intent on reflecting that light back to its source, he bowed low before the empty throne as he framed a wordless plea for an audience with one he knew only as the Master.

Kneeling next to McLeod in the doorway, opening himself to follow where Adam led, Peregrine felt the faint twinge of vertigo and the momentary rushing sensation that he had learned to associate with soul-flight and the shift of perspective from the physical to the Astral. His vision blurred, his sight briefly confounded by speed and distances until, with a slight jar, his spirit found its grounding amid the Inner Planes.

As Peregrine’s vision cleared again, he found himself still kneeling shoulder-to-shoulder with McLeod, but now at the edge of a circle of thirteen throne-like chairs set out in an open space full of silver light, like a temple open to the stars. The spectral forms of twelve white-mantled Templar preceptors now overlaid the mummified husks that Peregrine knew still occupied the physical reality of the twelve lesser chairs, ghostly gauntleted hands shifting slightly on the hilts of grounded swords as their golden-glowing eyes sought a bright-spinning spindle of purest white light hovering within the confines of the thirteenth chair. Before it the astral Adam stood, now garbed in a sapphire-blue soutane.

Gradually, the white light became a white-clad figure seated there, white-bearded and noble, the Crown of Solomon now resting on white-draped knees and compassed by pale, graceful hands, the Sceptre and Seal at his sandal-shod feet. That the Master had chosen to reveal himself in the chapel garb of a Templar Grand Master seemed altogether appropriate in this august company. Even expecting the visitation, Peregrine felt familiar awe and joy leap up in his breast, and he found himself wishing he dared take out a sketch pad and pencil; but he could not seem to summon sufficient will to do it.

As Adam straightened from his bow, his gaze lifting to the Master’s, the blue soutane of his astral image shifted to a white Templar mantle and robes like those worn by the others.

Well met, Master of the Hunt,
came the Master’s greeting, like the mellow music of a hunting horn.
Be welcome in this company, and your Huntsmen with you. This night’s work has been well done. Do you require further assistance?

“I entreat your counsel, Worshipful Master,” Adam responded. “Though we have returned the demons Gog and Magog to the place fashioned to contain them, yet would I see them banished once and for all from the face of the earth, and the hallows dispersed so that henceforth they will be neither a burden nor a temptation to any human creature.”

The Master nodded, a smile perhaps curving the lips obscured by the beard.
You have freely offered what would have been required. Thus shall the knowledge be freely given. But there is more you would ask of us.

Adam inclined his head in agreement. “In my office as physician, I likewise desire to know what may be done to bring healing to the soul of Henri Gerard—and whether some duty remains to the soul of the man slain by the demons. Truly, I believe neither man sought to serve the Darkness. They are young souls, led astray by the glamour of greed.”

You plead eloquently for your foolish younger brethren,
the Master replied,
and wisely you temper justice with mercy. What you desire is within the mandate permitted. Approach and kneel.

Adam obeyed, briefly bowing his head as the Master took up King Solomon’s Crown and stood. The twelve preceptors rose with him, giving solemn salute with their swords as the Master elevated the Crown in mute acknowledgement of the Divine Wisdom it embodied. As it began to descend, Adam closed his eyes, offering himself as a vessel to be filled.

The touch of the Crown on his brow let loose a wellspring of sudden knowledge rising up within him, like a vast and shining fountain bursting forth from among dry boulders in a desert. Like a traveller long parched by thirst, he let the flood overwhelm him, drinking deep of its grace with every pore . . .

Looking on, Peregrine saw his kneeling mentor sway slightly and reel back on his haunches, half catching himself on his hands, then grope blindly forward. As his hands closed on the Sceptre and the Seal, he got his feet under him and stood upright, crowned head raised as he elevated the hallows at arm’s length like an oblation. An answering blaze of white light suddenly enwrapped him from all sides.

Dazzled and briefly startled, Peregrine braced himself against another whirling rush of astral winds. When he could see again, he was kneeling once more in the doorway of the underground vault and the Master and his shining company were gone. Beside him, McLeod heaved a relieved sigh and gave his head a shake as if to clear his vision, then turned his anxious gaze to where Adam now stood facing the empty thirteenth chair, the Crown on his head and the Sceptre and Seal in his upstretched hands. As his arms slowly lowered and he turned around, his dark gaze held a gleam of confidence.

“You’d better get our unfortunate friend out to the car,” he said quietly, with a faint smile to reassure them. “What remains to be done, I must do alone, and there’s some urgency. The balance just now is fragile.”

With a nod for answer, McLeod leaned his sword against the doorjamb next to Peregrine’s and turned to set a shoulder under one of Gerard’s arms as Peregrine took the other and helped hoist the Frenchman’s dead weight to a standing position. Supporting him heavily between them, they started slowly back along the passageway toward the stairs. Adam slid the Seal into his pocket as they left, his hand emerging with the vial of salt he had used at Rosslyn. This he uncapped and sprinkled on what the demons had left of the butchered thief, at the same time whispering an invocation to frame his intent.

“Go forth, thou wayward child of God, known only to Him, and be freed of the snares of Evil, that you be not bound to this place. With contrite heart may you be received into the Presence of Him Whose never—failing love surpasses all human imperfections. Amen. Selah. So be it.”

Pocketing the empty vial, he lightly touched the head of the Sceptre to the dead man’s shattered torso, lifting it then to trace first a cross and then a circle over the remains, then put him out of mind and moved closer to the casket. Doffing the Crown, he set it squarely on top of the casket lid, with a murmured exhortation for Divine attendance as he retrieved McLeod’s torch and backed out the door, breaking then to dash back along the passageway toward the stairs.