The Necromancer's Grimoire (52 page)
Read The Necromancer's Grimoire Online
Authors: Annmarie Banks
“Oh, God,” he said, his brow puckered in disbelief. “It is covered in blood. Dried blood.” He opened his hand so it lay across his palm and showed it to her. “How did it get here? The necromancer?”
She stared at it. “I have never seen anything physical materialize before. Have you?”
William passed the blade from hand to hand, turning it and examining the hilt and the thick tang. “No. And this is heavy. Very substantial. The width of the blade is nearly the same as my hand.” He made as if to hand it to her, but she recoiled.
“I will clean it, then, before you touch it,” he offered.
“No. I know what it is. Do not clean it. Leave it. That is the baron's blood on it.” She tried to stop her lips from trembling, and then gave up. She covered her face in her hands and wept for him.
“Oh.” She heard William say. The bed creaked as he climbed back in and took her in his arms. He rocked her until she could think again. He looked in her eyes. “Who would give you such a thing, and why? Are we in danger now? Is this dagger a threat?”
She rubbed her eyes. “The necromancer has no power anymore. He is in the Abyss.” But she remembered his severed cord.
She looked at the dagger again. “But I may be wrong,” she whispered. “Someone else may have sent it to me.”
“Now is the time to find out, Nadira.”
She looked at him. His face was pale. The blood from his head wound made narrow stripes from his brow to his chin and matted the hair on the top of his head and over his left ear. The honey-brown eyes were tired, too. She saw very little of the glimmer that usually flashed at her when he was excited. “The time is not now,” she argued. “We need to rest. You need to clean up. Didn't Thedra say she was bringing you warm water and cloths?”
There was a knock at the door.
His face crumbled. “Don't send me away.”
“I won't. Stay here, but no more work.”
He nodded.
The work started the next day. William and Nadira sat in the garden staring at the bloody dagger they had laid on the tiles. William's head was wrapped in white bandages. She wore the Priestess's blue veil.
He held the
Grimoire
in his hands, but kept it closed.
“I did not know material objects could move from place to place, that they could materialize out of the air.” She stared at the knife.
William agreed. “Even the necromancer did not do that. Or could he?”
She pressed her lips together before replying. “The necromancer killed him from hundreds of miles away.”
William thought about this. “Did Montrose send it to you?”
She had not the courage to touch it to find out if she was right or not. “I think if I touch it, I will go to Alexandria,” she told him honestly. “I am not ready to watch him die again.”
“Did he send it to you?” he insisted. “Because if he did, you must touch it.”
“Why would he?”
William made a face and raised his hands in defeat. “How should I know?” his voice was edged with exasperation. “I am making suggestions.”
“Ask the
Grimoire
.” It was William's book now.
Both of them looked at it suspiciously. “I see what you mean.” He didn't want to open it either.
“Shall we sit here forever?” she asked.
His mouth turned up in a wry twist and he lifted the cover. He turned the pages until the third one was open to him. She could see the likeness was of a handsome young Franciscan friar, with the hood of his habit framed his face and intense eyes looked out at the reader. They traded glances. He placed his hand over the likeness and closed his eyes.
“It says the dagger was sent by the necromancer's master, who is⦔ He opened his eyes and looked at her. “â¦in Persia.”
She blinked. “Yes. I was told to go there when I touched the necromancer. How does he feel? Are you frightened by his presence?”
He shook his head. “No. I am not.”
“Then we are not in danger right now. Ask why he sent it.”
William took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. A moment later he slapped the book shut and leaped to his feet, alarm on his face. His eyes were wild and he looked about him as though he wanted to flee. The book fell to his feet with a thud.
“What?” She got her feet and took his arm, for he looked like he was on his way up and over the garden wall. “Stop. Demons from hell did not frighten you, but now you are panicked like a novice. What did the book say?”
He was breathing so hard, he could barely speak. “It is not a demon that frightens me, but an idea.”
She led him back to the garden bench and picked up the
Grimoire
. She put it back in his hands. “Tell me.”
“The necromancer did not materialize the dagger inside the baron. It had been thrown.” William's eyes were stricken. Nadira knew he was seeing what she had seen in Alexandria. He continued. “The necromancer sent an Assassin to Egypt. Oh, Nadira.” William wiped his eyes. “He knew he could not strike at the baron with you near him. When Montrose left your side he was marked for death.
“An assassin.” She frowned.
“Not murder for hire,” William corrected. “An Ismaili Assassin. The necromancer corrupted his soul and sent him to Alexandria for the baron. Montrose didn't have a chance there without you to protect him.”
Nadira blinked her tears and looked at her hands in her lap. “Impossible. Like the Templars, William, the Ismailis have been disbanded and forbidden for more than two centuries.”
“The truth. Like the Templars, Nadira, they have been working in the secret places of the world. In Persia.”
She sat up straighter and bored her eyes into his. “What else does the
Grimoire
say?”
He swallowed, “it says thatâ¦the dead can be revived. That a sorcerer can affect the physical world, raise storms, control animalsâ¦the necromancer's master calls you to himâ¦he will show you how to do it.” William blinked. “You'll need this...to bring the baron back. It will work to find him in the netherworld just as you used the Mandylion to find de Molay. The dagger is a gift. A promise to give Montrose back to you.” He pointed to the long knife. “He wants you to replace Farshad as his acolyte. He shows me a severed cord.”
“Materialize solid objects? Control the weather?” She whispered. The thought was intoxicating. “Revive the dead?” She imagined Montrose standing beside her again, smiling, his blue eyes bright.
“Don't do it, Nadira.” He was reading her face. “Don't even think about it. That kind of magic will change you into someone else. It happened to Farshad.”
She knew it would not happen to her. She tilted her head at him and asked, “Does it say the Ismaili are trying to start a war as DiMarco insisted?” She looked up at the high window above her where Calvin lay in his bed. “Do the Templars intend to start a crusade?”
William winced and put his hands to his temples. “No. They are trying to stop one.” He opened his eyes. “The Ismaili were to meet with Malcolm Corbett in Istanbul on St. Isidore's day to⦔
She did not hear the rest. Nadira flew up the stairs to Calvin's room and pushed his door open. “Thomas!” She cried.
Calvin sat up in bed. “What is it?” he answered.
She leaped in beside him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “What were you and Corbett doing in Istanbul? It is time to tell me. You weren't there just to steal a book.”
He stared at her. After a long pause he whispered, “We were to meet with Abd Al-Salam, but he died before we could arrange the transfer. Only his messenger arrived.” He dropped his eyes and twisted the bedclothes in his hands
“Transfer?” She looked at the doorway were William now stood.
“The relics,” William said. He raised his chin as he entered the room. “They were to trade relics and documents.” He lifted the lid of the chest on the table by the bed and touched the folded Mandylion. “There are also some finger bones in here and some rusty nails.” William gave Calvin a look that suggested he did not believe these were nails from the true cross.
“There is more,” she said, “I can see it in his mind.” She squeezed the Templar's shoulders.
Calvin looked from one to the other. “We were going to trade relics. We would take his to Rome, Al-Salam was to send ours to Mecca.”
Nadira sat back. “And?”
Calvin took a deep breath. “We would set up a netherworld connection that would keep the world safe from another conflagration. Placing their relics in Rome might protect the peninsula, and having ours in Mecca would protect their cities from our armies. But we needed the Templar treasure from de Molay. Supposedly the treasure contained even more powerful relics collected from Jerusalem in the crusade.” He leaned forward to touch her cheek with one finger. “But now all is lost.”
She took his hand from her face and pressed it to her heart and Calvin covered her hand with his other. She said, “It is not lost.” She turned to William. “Tell him.”
“The
Grimoire
says you already possess that treasure, Poor Knight of Christ. You need no relics to stop this war.”
Calvin frowned. He craned his neck to look at William. “Is there something in that chest I have not seen?”
William tried to smile. “You are holding your treasure in your hands.”
Calvin's eyes met Nadira's. “Can it be?”
“It can. But I must first go to Persia.”
Calvin slowly nodded. “They will have chosen a new imam now that Al-Salam is dead. We must meet with him.”
She shook her head. “No. I go to meet another.”
“No! You will not! I will not permit it!” William slammed the chest shut and grabbed Nadira by the arm and shook her. “You will not travel the path of darkness!” His eyes were wild. “I will not allow it!” he repeated.
Calvin's hand snaked out and broke William's grip. The Templar rose up from his bed and lurched against William, pushing him backwards until the friar struck the far wall.
“You will not speak to her that way!” Calvin shouted. “Nor will you grab at her person!”
William's eyes flashed and he raised his right hand against Calvin. Sparks of many colors glowed from his fingers and shot directly at the Templar's face. Calvin ducked and lunged. He put the friar in a headlock, mindless of the shooting energies that whirled and stung him about the head and shoulders. William's face turned red as his air was cut off. Calvin trembled from the strain of holding himself on one leg.
Nadira slid from the bed. “Gentlemen. Please. Thomas, let him go. William, stop the sparks.”
Calvin immediately removed his arm from William's throat. Both men sank to the floor, gasping. Calvin clutched his thigh with both hands and William rubbed his throat, coughing.
She turned away from them and considered this new information. What she had seen inside Kemaleddin was true. The sultan would order the
reis
to attack Venetian strongholds throughout the eastern Mediterranean. The Knights of St. John would attack Turkish convoys heading to Egypt and threaten pilgrims travelling to Mecca. The conflict was brewing. Pirates and privateers from both sides already waged a sea war with cargo and slaves.
Nadira sighed. She thought she heard William calling her name. She would have to go to Persia. She could not stop a war by herself. She would need more training and more allies. And there was Robert. She closed her eyes. The priestess could not progress any further. She could not shake her belief in evil.
But I have.
“Nadira?”
The thoughts that crowded into her head were vivid. She saw the temples of the ancient Egyptians and their hairless priests raising their arms over the necropolis. She saw the mummies and the barks that traveled every night to the underworld.
“Nadira. No. Don't do it. Please.”
She saw the necromancer's nameless master in the mountains of Alborzâ¦that dark presence had saved all the secrets of Egypt in the high mountains, the knowledge of the Egyptians who were the masters of death. She saw a tall ziggurat under the stars. He beckoned to her from its summit. She heard the names of those who had come before her: Zarathustra, Imhotep, Astarte, Isisâ¦Isis who brought her lover back from the dead.
She could no longer hear William's voice.
of the Dead
Annmarie Banks
Book Three of the Elysium Texts Series
KNOX ROBINSON
PUBLISHING
London ⢠New York
Chapter One
The foothills of Mount Davamand, Persia
Spring 1496
“I am not afraid to die, Nadira,” William said. His eyes followed a stone as it bounced over the side of the mountain and disappeared into the ravine. “But I would prefer that it not be today.”
“Is your donkey concerned?” She called back to him.
“No. He is quite bored. His ears flop.”
She smiled, “Then you will live, at least for today.” She turned back to the narrow trail in front of her. Ahead she could see the tall form of Alisdair leading his wife, Thedra, who sat wrapped in brown veils upon a dun-colored donkey. Alisdair was too big to ride the little sure-footed animals. He had said he'd rather walk. Garreth, too, could have carried a donkey up the mountain, but instead he led their pack animals behind them.
The narrow mountain trail snaked up the side of sheer cliffs and dipped low into deep ravines. In many places the trail had been washed away and the small party of friends spent time filling the gashes with stones before leading their animals over them.
Alisdair looked back at her and she knew he was asking where they might spend the night. Until this afternoon there had always been a level area near a source of water for the night's rest. This day, however, the narrow track had not widened, nor was there any sign their journey would end before sundown. She imagined trying to sleep sitting up on the narrow trail, her back against the rough rock. She thought about the chill winds that would prevent a comforting fire. There was little fodder for the donkeys, either. Perhaps if they got hungry enough they would turn around and start down the mountain without them.
Alisdair jerked his chin at the sun and then turned his blue eyes back to the trail,
hinting that she might try to do something before dark. Nadira held tightly to the tufts of hair on her donkey's neck and closed her eyes.
There was a place ahead to rest. This trail had been built by many hands hundreds of years ago. Countless travelers had created rest areas at appropriate distances apart. She felt a warm fire and soft blankets. She opened her eyes. “Just ahead,” she called to him. She saw his bright braids sway as he nodded. He didn't bother to turn around again.
She watched as he and his donkey disappeared around the switchback ahead of her. There would be a wide plateau, nearly level. They would rest there and wait. She patted her donkey's neck.
Behind her she heard William's voice. “Nadira.”
She tilted her head to listen and he continued. “Something is wrong.”
She felt nothing wrong. She shifted on her donkey so she could turn around to face him. He looked worried; his golden eyes took in the vista below them, then up the side of the mountain before turning back to her.
“You will not fall,” she said.
“No. It is something else.”
She frowned. She felt no impending danger, just that promise of a warm fire and a soft bed under the Persian stars.
Her donkey approached the switchback turn with the same lack of interest he had displayed throughout the long journey from the shores of the Caspian Sea.
“Calm yourself, Will,” she began, but did not finish as her donkey made the sharp turn. Ahead of her the trail opened into a wide plateau as she had foreseen, but Alisdair had stopped and taken Thedra from her donkey and placed her directly behind him. His huge claymore was in his hand.
It was never a good sign when the giant sword left its scabbard. She slid from her donkey's back and ran to him. He acknowledged her with a nod but did not take his eyes from the dust cloud on the near horizon.
“Horsemen,” he said. “Twenty of them.”
She did not ask how he could count at this distance. He was skilled in war and she was not. However, she was annoyed that the approaching band of riders had not appeared in her mind, warning her of their approach. But William had been warned. She turned around to see him come up with Garreth and the other donkeys.
“There is your danger, Will.”
He squinted at them as they grew larger. “I knew it was something.” He looked at Alisdair and his sword, and behind him at Garreth who now held his ax.
“And you feel nothing?” He nudged her.
She shook her head. “They come, but they will not harm us.”
Alisdair grunted. “They do not look harmless t' me. They carry bows and I see steel.” He took Thedra's arm and gave her to Nadira. “Take her, my lady.” He judged the terrain. “Take her back past the switchback and put her on the trail. The horsemen will not gallop down the mountain.”
Nadira had become âmy lady' instead of âlass' to him the day he returned to Istanbul without Lord Montrose. He had bestowed upon her the title of his lord's wife and she would not correct him.
But now she did not want to obey. Nor did William. They exchanged glances. Thedra was too frightened to have an opinion either way. She looked at each of them, waiting to be told what to do.
“Alisdair,” Nadira said, “I am not leaving you and Garreth to fight twenty horsemen alone. You forget who I am. What I am.” She did not mean his lord's widow.
He knew. He looked down at Thedra with tenderness. “I can't let âer be here when they come.”
Nadira agreed. “Take the donkeys and go back to the trail,” she said to Thedra in Greek. “You can wait there until we call for you. The tribesmen will not risk their horses on those loose stones. You will be safe.”
“But will you?” Thedra moved close to Alisdair and took his free hand in hers, but she looked at Nadira. “You will protect him, Sultana?” Alisdair snorted, his eyes on the dust cloud. He had been learning Greek very quickly.
“I will. Take the donkeys and go.”
Alisdair took his eyes from the approaching horsemen long enough to be sure his wife was on her way back to the trail, then he looked down at Nadira. “Who are they, then?” he asked in English.
“Tribesmen. Their scouts saw us on the trail. They will demand payment for our safe passage through their lands.”
Garreth made an angry noise in his throat. Nadira turned to him and he pointed to her with the hand that did not have a battle ax in it. He pointed to Thedra's retreating form. He was worried the women would be taken.
William gave a short laugh. “I would like to see them try to take Nadira.”
Garreth did not laugh with him. He pointed to the young man's Franciscan habit, then drew his finger across his throat.
Nadira nodded. “Garreth thinks no amount of money or goods will appease them if they want womenâ¦and hate priests.”
“I am not a priest. I am a cleric.”
“Yes, and I am sure the locals will appreciate the difference.” She sidled closer to him. “I told you it would not be a good idea to wear that in these lands.”
He stood taller and flipped the hood over his head so it framed his face, then touched his chest where he kept the
Grimoire
strapped to his body. “Let them come. I do not fear them.”
She took his hand and nodded.
The horsemen were closer now; close enough to count that there were twenty-three. Close enough to see that their archers had arrows nocked and ready. Close enough to see curved blades in the hands of some of them. The men were short and dark and rode small mountain ponies. They were dressed in brightly embroidered tunics and leggings trimmed in fur. The groups split into two groups and galloped their horses in wide arcs to come at them from both sides, then surround them, two lines of riders circling in opposite directions. It was a pretty maneuver, designed to intimidate their prey. Nadira could see that none of the riders were in the least bit concerned that the foreigners might be a threat. Their leader broke from the group and rode up on them with his second behind him. The riders stopped in a ring around them and everyone waited for the dust to settle and the horses to quiet.
The leader of the tribesmen was in the prime of his life, dark and strong, wearing the colorfully embroidered shirt and leggings of the mountain people of Persia. His elaborate felt and fur hat made him look taller than he was.
He said something to them.
Alisdair stepped forward, his hand waved for her to stay back. She did. The men here would not understand that she was the leader of the party. They would look to the biggest and strongest. That was Alisdair. She saw them all looking at his hair and beard with amazement. Bright orange freckles must also be a rarity here.
Alisdair roared at them in English, “Wadya want, ye filthy bastards?” He waved his claymore in front of him with both arms.
Two of the horses snorted loudly and stepped back. The tribal leader yelled something as well. One of his men cued his horse and rode closer to Alisdair, arm outstretched as if to take the sword.
“My lady,” Alisdair said to her without turning around. “This bloody bastard is not takin' my sword. He's gonna lose a hand unless you do something.”
She agreed. “Stop!” she said in Arabic, hoping that the common liturgical language of the Levant might have penetrated this far into Persia. She put both hands up in front of her, palms out. She did not speak Persian or any of the many tribal dialects.
The man did stop, and the leader changed his language immediately.
“Surrender your weapons!”
“Hmph!” Alisdair pointed the claymore at him.
William leaned closer to her. “I think that Scottish word was easily understood. What are you going to do?”
She shook her head. She had been gathering her energies for a great salvo if she needed it. She could feel the shimmering threads around her, waiting to be focused into a skein of tendrils to entangle the horsemen. “Wait and see. This may be resolved without bloodshed.” But it might not. She was only certain that none of her friends would be injured. She was not so certain about the tribesmen.
She translated for Alisdair, “He said to drop your sword⦔
Alisdair lowered the point to the ground and turned to her, incredulous. “Are you gonna make me do it again?”
She shook her head. “Not this time.” She spoke to the leader. “We will not surrender our weapons. We surrender nothing.”
The fact that this defiance was delivered by a woman, and not the tall speckled man at first puzzled, then enraged the horsemen. Several kicked their mounts and surged forward, running at them, then pivoting away at the last second, swiping at them with their curved blades.
“Wee tiny knives, those things,” Alisdair grumbled. “I haven't seen a real man's sword since Istanbul.”
“There are none here large enough to carry a sword like yours, Alisdair,” William said.
Nadira locked eyes with the leader. He was confused. This was not how encounters with strangers usually unfolded. She sent a tendril into his heart. Yes. He was unsettled that none of them showed the slightest fear of him and his men. Not normal. Most travelers cringed, then bowed on their bellies or fled. She let him know in no uncertain terms that it was in his best interest, and that of his people, to ignore these particular trespassing foreigners.
He did not respond to her suggestion. His pride was injured by their lack of fear. He gave the signal to attack and his men kicked their horses into a gallop. The archers let fly.
Nadira raised her arms and her skein of threads gathered themselves for the throw. She planned to catch all the arrows first, and then confound the horses. Before she could cast her defense, a bolt of lightning shot from the sky, and with a deafening boom that caused the horses to scream in panic, struck the nearest horseman who was about to swing his sword at Alisdair. The arrows fell to the ground and bounced.
She put her arms down and covered her ears. The thunder rumbled away into the distance and echoed off the mountain peaks that surrounded the valley below them. The man who was struck lay on his back on the ground, eyes and mouth wide open. A great black streak ran down the side of his smoking body from his temple where the bolt had entered him, to his feet where it had entered his horse and felled the animal as well. The other horsemen had fled and were now regrouping some distance away.
Alisdair turned slowly to face her. He dropped his sword.
“My lady⦔ he whispered, amazed.
“It wasn't me,” she said quickly. “I didn't do that.”
William looked up. “The sky is clear,” his voice shook. “I think you did.”
“I didn't intend to kill anyone, and especially not an innocent animal.” She pointed at the dead horse.
William frowned and rubbed his ears. “The alternative is more frightening.” He looked around for another magus.
She shared his frown, deep in thought. “There is no other. I would feel him.”
Garreth pointed at the horsemen. They were not running away. The leader was approaching alone at a slow trot. The rest of his men were still.
“Let's hear what he has to say,” William said warily.
Alisdair picked up his sword. He looked at the long blade, then at Nadira, then deliberately slid it slowly behind his back into the scabbard. “I'll not be needin' it, then.”
She shook her head, waiting for the tribal leader to arrive. William pushed her forward. “You can't pretend Alisdair is your master anymore.”
“He won't negotiate with a woman,” Nadira argued.
William shook his head. “I think not only will he speak to you, but he will get off his horse, salaam you, and bow all the way into the thin grass. He saw you raise your arms before the lightning struck.”
William was right. The tribal leader approached, leaped from his horse ten paces away, and got down on his belly.
