The Templar Chronicles (16 page)

Even less surprising was the response the call received.

As one, the five sorcerers, dressed identically to the one Major Barnes’ men had slain back at the Broadmoor commandery, raised their arms. Their leader began chanting in some ancient tongue, while the others began to weave their hands rhythmically through the air.

Duncan, apparently, had had enough for one day. “You have five seconds to surrender, or I’ll open fire.” His voice was steady, and he punctuated his statement by pointing his gun in their direction.

Watching all this, Cade knew Duncan’s efforts were in vain. The sorcerers had baited their trap; he and Duncan had unwittingly fallen into it. As he drew his own weapon, he triggered his Sight.

The sudden link to the Beyond allowed him to see the blue witchfire that sprang forth with each motion of the sorcerers’ hands, the power gathering in a rapidly growing sphere that shimmered just before them.

Cade watched as a rift appeared in the air between him and that spherical shield. It hung several feet off the ground, a small ball of incandescence that quickly began to grow and spread. From its silvery green surface a clawed hand appeared, a hand that was soon followed by an arm that grasped the edge of the opening like a physical thing and pulled the rest of its body through.

The spectre’s face was hideous, a twisted parody of a human visage, warped by whatever evil passions consumed the creature. As its eyes came to rest on Cade it grinned, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth and a spiked tongue.

Behind it, several others began to pour forth to join their brethren.

Despite the fact that they didn’t have the same solidity of form that a revenant had, the spectres were actually more dangerous. Their wraithlike forms could cause just as much, if not more, harm than the rotting body of a revenant, and had the added advantage of being impervious to almost all ordinary weaponry. They were creatures of spirit and will, manifestations of pure evil, and so weapons unconnected to the emotion of the wielder could do them little harm. It took something blessed to really affect them, and, even then, several strikes were required before they were completely taken out of the picture.

Cade knew that Duncan couldn’t see the mystical shield the sorcerers had created to protect themselves, but the portal and its inhabitants were clearly visible. As Cade watched, Duncan sprung into action, opening fire with his MP5.

Unfortunately, Duncan didn’t have nearly the same level of experience with such beings as Cade did. He targeted the emerging spectres, and his bullets tore into the wraithlike creatures with no effect, simply passing through them to bounce off the arcane shield the sorcerers had erected.

Cade fired his own weapon, though not at the spectres. They were creatures of spirit and will, manifestations of the evil that once drove them in life, and so weapons unconnected to the emotion of the wielder could do them no harm. Instead he targeted the sorcerers summoning them, attempting to get past the barrier that they had erected to protect themselves.

His shots met the same fate as Duncan’s.

The spectres swarmed about in front of the sorcerers, but made no attempt to attack the two Knights.

Cade knew the situation wouldn’t remain that way for long.

Next to him, Duncan’s weapon ran dry and went silent.

“Move!” Cade cried, slinging his gun and drawing his sword in preparation for the onslaught he knew was to come.

As if on cue, the spectres charged.

Duncan and Cade made it as far as the steps before the spectres burst upon them like a cyclone. Shrieking in rage and hunger, the wraithlike creatures rushed the two Knights as they turned to face their attackers at the foot of the steps, swords in hand.

Cade fought like a demon himself, snarling his fury, directing every ounce of his anger down through the weapon at his attackers. All the anger and frustration he’d felt at the sight of Stone’s mutilated body poured out of him now that he had a target. His sword spun like a dervish, striking with deadly accuracy, neither giving nor receiving any quarter from his foes. Beside him, Duncan swung his weapon with equal ferocity.

The spectres swarmed around them, striving to pierce their defenses, to gain the opportunity to sink their fangs into their flesh or rake them with their claws. At the same time, the blessed blades of the Knights sought to pierce the unnatural forms of the spectres, sending them back across the portal with a shriek of pain and a flash of witchfire every time they connected. The combination of the Knights’ martial skill and the added protection of their ceramic body armor kept them from suffering any serious wounds, though they were both bleeding from half a dozen minor injuries by the time they beat back the first wave of the attack.

When the spectres pulled back to regroup, the two men quickly made their way up the steps and back inside the house, slamming the door behind them.

Cade moved to the nearest window and drew back the curtain, peering out into the front yard.

The sorcerers hadn’t moved, though more spectres had emerged from the portal to join the survivors from the first wave.

“Back door,” said Cade.

They ran through the lower floor, moving through the living and dining rooms, hoping they hadn’t yet been surrounded. From the far side of the kitchen they could see through the sliding glass doors that led out into the patio at the rear of the house, where a seething mass of spectres pressed up against the glass from the outside, trying to force their way in.

The glass was bulging inward, the weight of the spectres proving to be too much for it. Duncan was closest to the doors when the fragile material gave way with a loud crash.

The sergeant disappeared under the onslaught.

The creatures flowed over him, coming straight for Cade.

He met them head-on, his sword flashing in the dim light.

He slashed, hacked, and stabbed, until he was once again able to beat them off. Blood flowed over his the right side of his face from a large gash at the edge of his scalp He could still see through his good eye, and that was all that mattered.

The spectres had retreated to the backyard and he glanced at them, reassuring himself they remained at a distance, before moving to assess Duncan’s injuries. Cade feared the worst as he moved over to Duncan’s still form, but was relieved to find he’d been knocked unconscious but was still breathing.

Kneeling next to him, his eyes on the spectres just outside the doors, Cade pulled out his radio phone and tried to call Riley, with no success.

It wouldn’t be long before the spectres made another assault. He had only moments to figure a way out, or Barnes’s recovery team would have two more bodies to add to their load.

But he couldn’t think of a solution.

At least Riley would follow orders; when they didn’t make the rendezvous, he’d head for Bristol, Olsen in tow, and confront the Preceptor. There was some small measure of comfort in that.

Then it hit him. He didn’t know if it would work, but he was willing to give it a try.

“You’re probably not going to like this,” he said to his unconscious teammate, “but we’re all out of options.” Sheathing his own sword, he scooped Duncan’s still form over his shoulder and grabbed the man’s discarded weapon in one hand. He ran down the hall and up the steps to the second floor. He was already tired; there was no way he was going to be able to hold off another attack, not without Duncan’s help.

By the time Cade made it to the end of the hall, the spectres had rallied and were in the house, swarming at the foot of the stair and climbing toward them.

Cade raced down the corridor, making for the master study where he and Duncan had found Commander Stone’s remains.

The first of the spectres reached the second floor and let out a bone-chilling shriek as Cade burst into the study.

Behind him, the hallway filled with screaming wraiths.

The mirror, and the potential salvation it offered, was ten feet away.

A searing-cold hand clawed at his back, slashing partly through the back panel of his protective vest. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he dashed the final few steps across the room, planted one foot on the lip of the great mahogany desk that stood between him and the wall, and launched the two of them directly at the mirror covering the wall just beyond with one shove of his powerful legs.

If I’m wrong, we’re both dead,
he thought; and then he was gone.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The twenty minutes came and went.

No Cade.

Riley chalked it up to the bad weather and did his best to curb his impatience. He’d already called Major Barnes at the Broadmoor commandery and filled him in. A recovery team was on its way, with an extra squad of troops just to be safe.

Thirty minutes.

As Olsen sat watch by the window, Riley paced the small room, his frustration growing by the minute. Cade should have been here by now, rain or no rain. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut. He’d been Cade’s right-hand man for too long just to leave him out there on his own.

By the time forty-five minutes had passed since Cade’s phone call, Riley made his decision. Grabbing his shotgun off the couch, he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Olsen asked, from his position by the window.

“To find Cade,” Riley replied, opening the door and stepping out into the darkened parking lot beyond.

Olsen grabbed his gun and followed. “’Bout damn time.”

*** ***

Riley pulled up to the house and both men cautiously got out of their vehicle to investigate. Olsen laid his hand on the hood of Cade’s vehicle. “Cold.”

“Not good.”

Weapons in hand, they continued forward.

The darkness veiled both the house and yard. It wasn’t until they were only a few feet away from the front door that they noticed the smashed windows and claw marks. Riley held up one hand, and both of them instantly stopped and dropped into a crouch, their eyes on the door in front of them.

Nothing moved.

Riley considered the situation. Almost an hour had passed since they’d last had contact, but that didn’t mean the action was over.

He remembered Cade’s admonition about being a hero but discarded it. If they waited for reinforcements, it might mean life or death for Cade or Duncan if they were lying injured somewhere inside.

Riley started forward, Olsen at his back.

The search of the house went smoothly, and they didn’t encounter any resistance. They found Stone’s body upstairs in the study just where Cade had said it would be. In the kitchen, they found Duncan’s MP5, lying in a pool of drying blood and shattered glass.

Of their teammates, Duncan and Cade, there was no sign.

Staring at the destruction around him, Riley found himself asking the same question over and over again in his mind.

Where are you, boss?

CHAPTER TWENTY

Duncan regained consciousness slowly. His body hurt, and his mind tried to shy away from the pain, far happier to drift in a dream state than to face reality. He pulled himself to a sitting position, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

When he finally opened his eyes, he could only stare in silent amazement at the landscape around him.

He sat amidst a patch of rocks on the shore of what appeared to be a large lake or inland sea. Small stones covered the beach, worn smooth by the water’s caress. The sun was sinking out on the horizon, and its light burnished the water’s surface with an unusual glow.

The incongruity of a sun setting over water on the east coast might have registered if it wasn’t for the astonishing fact that everything around him was some shade of grey.

The stones.

The sky.

The water.

Even the sunlight.

All grey. A million different subtleties and shades to be sure, but grey nonetheless.

It was only when he looked down at himself that he could see some small vestiges of color, though even this was washed out and faded. His clothing, even his skin, seemed to be cast with a strange pallor, like a corpse too long in the tepid air of a newly sealed tomb.

He scrambled to his feet to get a better look around, and in doing so caught another flash of color from a nearby pile of rocks. He cautiously made his way closer.

A dark form was stretched out behind the rock, and Duncan’s relief was palpable when he realized that it was Commander Williams.

Duncan rushed over to his fallen teammate.

Cade was unconscious, bruised and battered, but seemed to be without serious injury. Duncan dared not use the dark, murky water to revive him. Left with no other way to help him, he resorted to sitting by his side, waiting for Cade to regain consciousness.

It seemed to take forever.

As he sat there, a dense fog rolled in off the water, drifting in and out among the boulders that jutted out from the dark sand. He quickly realized that anything could be lurking in that fog. After what he’d already gone through, the thought made him more than a little uneasy.

When Cade did finally revive, Duncan was full of questions; questions regarding where they were, how they had arrived, and what they intended to do in order to get home.

After turning the man’s sword back over to him, Cade did his best to answer them.

“Let’s start with the easiest question - where we are,” said Cade. “I call it the Beyond, for lack of a better term.” He explained how he had first discovered his unique ability to see into this otherworldly plane after awakening in the hospital following the attack on his family, how this led to his discovery that he had the power to walk between them. He filled Duncan in on what he knew of the place in general. Considering he’d never spoken about this with another human being, Cade thought he did an admirable job summing it all up.

Duncan, however, found his explanations anything but reassuring.

“So how did we get
here?
” he asked, looking around at the desolate landscape around them. “What happened to the portal that we came through?”