The Dark Thorn (20 page)

And after would be a darker world.

After navigating the Papal Apartment passages, the men passed two Swiss Guards and, closing an oak door behind them, entered the personal audience chamber of Pope Clement XV.

Cormac knew he would have to play his best game.

“Greetings Cardinal Ramirez, Cardinal O’Connor,” Pope Clement XV welcomed in heavily accented German. “I trust this meeting is as important as its urgency hints at.”

Cormac helped Donato sit at the room’s circular table before finding his own seat. Seven other Cardinals, each from various parts of the world, filled polished oak chairs of their own and nodded to the Cardinal Vicar—some out of amity, others obligatory respect. No windows or vents were set in the walls; it was a private room for meetings of clandestine import. Three chandeliers cast light, the paintings of past pontiffs dead centuries past mingling with life-size statues carved of Saint Peter, Saint James, and the Virgin Mary. Above it all and hanging from a large cross mounted on the back wall, Jesus peered down on the gathered in twisted agony, the wood glowing with a waxy ethereal sheen.

The Cardinals, all of whom were men over fifty and part of the Vigilo, were dressed in similar loose-fitting crimson robes. Pope Clement XV, who wore a simple white robe with gold stitching, sat in the largest and most ornate chair at the table.

“We have what could become a dire situation, Your Holiness,” Cormac began.

“What has transpired?”

Cormac related all he knew about Bran Ardall, what had transpired in Seattle, where the boy had gone and with whom, and what the appearance of the son of the last Heliwr could mean.

When he had finished, a pall of tension filled the room.

“You failed then, in more ways than one,” Clement said darkly.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Cormac said. “The Ardall boy is in Annwn.”

“And you chose
not
to inform me of this
before
you lost him?”

The Cardinal Vicar met the hard stare. “At the time, Your Holiness, we barely knew what was transpiring. Archbishop Glenallen in Seattle saw to the knight, but we were unsure about the boy. No Heliwr in the history of the Church has been born of the previous owner of the title. And with the developments in the Middle East and the wars taking precedence there, I didn’t want to draw your attention away from what you are trying to achieve with the extremists.”

“I see,” Clement said with distaste. “I will address that line of thought later. Continue.”

“The boy is in Annwn, as I said,” Cormac resumed. “The Cardinal Seer observed that the High King of Annwn sent a group to capture him. I think the attack on the boy in Seattle was to somehow draw him to Annwn so he could be detained.”

“Could not the attack be retribution for some grievance by Charles Ardall long since passed?” Cardinal Villenza argued, his pate balding and jowls heavy.

“It could,” Cormac admitted. “But Philip Plantagenet
knew
to send his Templar Knights to the portal at a specific time—and John Lewis Hugo kept the boy alive once captured. No, the anticipation of the boy coming through the portal is the key. And if someone wanted him gone, why go to such lengths to keep him alive?”

“Templar Knights,” Cardinal Tucci spat. “Those the Church failed to kill are a disgrace.”

“The wizard was also a part of this,” Cormac reminded.

“If Myrddin Emrys has taken interest in the son of Ardall, it stands to reason the child is of importance, possibly to us as well,” the Pope said.

The Cardinals murmured interest among one another. The Cardinal Vicar remained noncommittal, his own desires kept private. To control the Heliwr was to have unlimited power. If Bran Ardall had been chosen to become the next Unfettered Knight, the boy would be vulnerable to persuasion. The wizard undoubtedly knew this and had already poisoned that prospect. The Vigilo would have to find a way to gain the champion and once again regain an authority to shape the world.

“Another problem to consider,” Cormac added. “The events in Annwn are unsettling, true, but the implications could bring that battle into the Vatican—into this world. If Philip were to pollute and gain the Heliwr, it could be disastrous. It could destroy us.”

“Is the knight in place not capable of protecting the portal?” Clement asked.

“Ennio Rossi,” Cardinal Villenza said. “As we saw with Bruno Ricci two decades ago, even a knight can be bested.”

“McAllister,” Clement snorted. “Even a knight can
betray
.”

“What Cardinal Villenza suggests is we prepare the Vatican for the worst,” Cormac continued. “The walls that surround the Basilica and the Papal Grounds were built not only to protect the work established by Saint Peter but to contain those on the other side of the gateway. The catacombs lend time to counter any threat that could force its way through the portal and into the Basilica. I believe we should address our defenses.”

“Is there really a threat though?” the Pope countered. “Cardinal Seer?”

Donato leaned forward in his chair, his milky eyes serene. “There is, my Cardinal brethren. Last eve, as I looked into Annwn, terrible things I saw. Philip and his legion of Templar Knights have grown strong and as yeh know, both hate the Catholic Church. Most of Annwn has fallen. But that is not all. Twisted things helped overcome the Ardall boy’s knight protector—some kind of human melding with feral animal. Never before I have seen halfbreed beings such as these, nor have my predecessors documented their existence. The Morrigan saw them destroyed with her arts, but if more exist they could pose a problem.”

“The boy is no longer in Philip’s control then?” the Pope questioned.

“No, both he and the knight were saved by the Morrigan,” the Seer said. “They make way toward the Carn Cavall as we sit here.”

“
What
is McAllister
doing
there?” Cardinal Villenza asked.

Silence again filled the room. No one knew.

“And you still cannot view Caer Llion, Seer?” Clement asked.

“Not at all, Yer Holiness,” Donato answered. “The curse tablets set into its walls and very foundations prevent my sight. I am as blind to Caer Llion as I am to these walls.”

“These creatures came from the castle?”

“I have combed the land. They are nowhere else. Created in Caer Llion, I say.”

“This could be nothing to us,” Cardinal Tucci said.

“History has taught much in this instance,” Cormac interrupted. “Men like Philip—the men of his family—are not satiated with the power they accrue. He will never stop, of that you can be sure. He may have these halfbreeds to war with his rebellious fey left in the mountains. But in time, he will turn his gaze this way.”

“Then we have two problems,” Clement summarized. “There is the boy to consider, and what rises from Caer Llion.”

“If these halfbreeds are part of a larger scheme, we must be ready,” Cormac agreed.

“Suggestions, Cardinal Vicar?” Clement asked.

“Fortify our defenses here. Order the portal Archbishops to prepare their knights. And keep an eye on Annwn. If the worst comes, the Vatican must be ready to evacuate everyone who resides, works, or visits. The Swiss Guard will be pivotal for that role.”

“Make it happen,” the Pope ordered. “All of it. The job of the Vigilo is to protect the Word of God and ensure its expansion. If those of this world realized there was another world with many of the fey they have thought mere mythology, pagan influence would ruin thousands of years of doctrine and belief. That cannot be allowed to happen. Give the knights what they need. We must be steadfast to prevent Annwn from ever returning to our shores.” He paused. “And if battle comes it will be one we are prepared for. Understood?”

The Cardinals nodded in unison.

“If you hear of anything else, notify me immediately—unconditionally,” the Pope ordered. “Now, excuse Cardinal O’Connor, Cardinal Ramirez, and myself.”

The sound of their robes a long whisper, the Cardinals left.

“I asked the others to leave; this will not concern them,” Clement said darkly. “It has always been my stance to leave Annwn to its own devices as long as it did not attempt a return. That threat has become palpable, in my mind at least. Do you agree?” Both Cormac and Donato nodded. “I am pleased you both agree and I am sure you will do what is right—do what is necessary.”

“I have been thinking the same, Your Holiness,” Cormac said.

“Cormac, you and Donato have been friends a long time,” Clement said, staring hard at the Cardinal Vicar. “What is said to one the other hears. You both have been steadfast and strong in my support. But you anger me, Cormac. As the leader of the Catholic Church, I demand to know what is going on at all times. The events in Iran, Iraq, and the East Bank do hold much of my attention, and much of my duty is pomp, but it is also my role and none other to oversee the entirety of our faith, and that includes protecting Rome.” He paused. “There are many secrets the Vigilo are not privy to yet that I am aware of, knowledge that can benefit situations the Church finds itself in. Don’t forget that.”

“It will not happen again, Your Holiness,” Cormac replied, biting his tongue.

“Now, I know the knight below is inexperienced,” the Pope stated. “Is that a worry?”

“He is quite capable,” Donato answered. “Young and strong.”

“Ennio Rossi will aid us in what must be done,” Cormac added. “Of that, I promise you.”

“Good. Good,” Clement said, rising. “Do what must be done. That is all.”

“Holy Father,” Cormac said, bowing in farewell.

As Cormac helped Donato from the room, the hot gaze of the Pope pressed into his back like a knife. The Cardinal Vicar grinned. Despite having done his duty by informing the Pope of Ardall, the Heliwr could yet still be within his grasp.

He hoped Ennio Rossi would be receptive to what Cormac had in mind for Finn Arne.

“It is time we spoke to Ennio,” Donato breathed.

“It is indeed, my old friend,” Cormac agreed. “And find where Annwn is hiding Bran Ardall.”

“This must be done, Ennio,” Donato urged.

The young knight sat on the edge of the Seer’s bed, his eyes betraying distrust. Cormac stood nearby, more and more irritated with each passing second. The wavy-haired knight shot glances at the Cardinal Vicar, skepticism captured in his uncomfortable posture. Donato tried to curtail such feelings, his papery hands squeezing those of the young man with emphasis.

“Yeh know I would not ask yeh of this if it were not of great import.”

Ennio nodded. “I know, Cardinal Ramirez.”

Impatience crept into Cormac. Ennio Rossi was a strong knight but youth made him unpredictable. He was unable to see the gray from the black and white of Myrddin Emrys. The Cardinal Vicar and Seer would have to make a strong case for Ennio to follow their plan.

Trying to hide his contempt, Cormac gazed to the far wall where the black shroud hid the Fionúir Mirror, a stain in an otherwise warm room.

It waited for Cormac like a ghost, a cold promise.

He turned to the knight. “If all things were equal, Ennio, there
would
be no need.”

“It goes against all I have been taught,” the Italian responded. “I trust you both, whereas the others would never agree to what you are asking. I believe, however, this passes boundaries that should not be crossed.”

“It
is
an odd situation,” Donato agreed. “Cardinal O’Connor and I cannot even explain the last time a person from this world entered Annwn not by accident. Myrddin Emrys stresses the need for the two worlds to remain separate, just as the Church does. But this is a situation that
could
lead to a much larger war—a war of cataclysmic proportions for all involved. Trust me, son, this is something we must stop at all costs.”

“Who exactly are you sending in?” Ennio asked.

“You will meet them. Good God-fearing men, no worries,” Cormac assured.

Ennio nodded, the lack of enthusiasm written on his face. Cormac didn’t blame him. For centuries ever since Myrddin Emrys had given the knights their power, there had been a tenuous relationship between the Church and those who guarded the portals. But the boy was not allowing his betters to aid in his decision-making. Cormac grew angrier at the thought. Although the knight could best him easily with the Arthurian-bestowed knife Carnwennan, the desire to grab Ennio by the shirt and shake him until teeth rattled persisted.

“It will be done then,” Ennio said. He did not look happy about it.

“It is the right choice,” Donato assured.

“Are you ready, Seer?” Cormac asked before Ennio could change his mind.

The frail man took a deep breath, weighing his decision.

“Donato?” Cormac pressed.

“Yeh will be coming with me this time, I warrant?”

“I will. I have to.”

“Let us find Bran Ardall then,” Donato said wearily. “Before yer distaste for using the mirror or my part to play in it ruins our convictions.”

They approached the mirror together, Ennio watching from the bed. Donato was slow, but his milky eyes were wide open and ready for what must be done. Cormac had few close people in his life, but the relationship he had with Donato gave him an insight into the Cardinal Seer others might miss. Donato was tired. If he began to falter, Cormac would be there for the Seer, certain reprimand or not, to try the next day instead.

“Stand next to me, Cormac,” the Seer ordered as he pulled the black cloth free of the mirror and dropped it to the rug-littered floor. “I will guide us. Keep your thoughts firmly fixed on me to start. If you do, there should not be a problem.”

“I remember.”

The Seer took a deep breath. Cormac did the same.

Flames from the hearth swirled in the depths of the Fionúir Mirror as if it contained an inner fire of its own. In the reflection Cormac watched the milky eyes of his friend drain and become darkest brown. Light from the glass then washed over him, enveloping him, first gray and then lightening like a sun breaking through fog. The room vanished; the mirror disappeared. The Cardinal Vicar remained focused on his mentor, embracing the tingling sensation, and never deviating from Donato’s command.