The Djinn Page 8

  “We were running late because of a disturbance in the eastern sector,” Horatio lied. He was in no mood to explain Samuel’s brief, inexplicable disappearance. “We realized you must have gone down into the tunnels ahead of us, so we hurried along.”

  The knight glared at Emir, rubbing his bruised jaw before continuing.

  “Anyway, as we made our way down the stairs, I spied a shadow moving below us on the staircase. I’ve seen the way that foul creature moves with my own eyes and I’d have sworn it was the same beast…so I attacked.”

  “That was rather brave of you,” said the physician with a warm smile.

  “I’m not sure about bravery, sir. It was more out of fear than anything else,” the knight continued. “Anyway, it turns out it wasn’t the Djinn. It was this bloke here. It’s eerie how much he moves like the demon, though.”

  “Yes,” said Gregory, looking the cleric up and down. “Very eerie, indeed. Anyway, gentlemen, now that the excitement is over, shall we proceed?”

  With everyone’s assent, including a bruised Horatio and a bewildered Samuel, the group moved forward into the recently excavated tunnel.

  8

  There were no torches in this section of the excavated tunnels, so the only light came from those held by Gregory, Gerard, and Al-Dula. Each flicker of flame cast dark shadows that seemed to sway rhythmically to the light, making it difficult to see sudden drops in the stone floor that could cause one to stumble.

  The group moved slowly, stooping low to avoid hitting their heads on the cross beams supporting the ceiling, for about a quarter of a mile until they came to a rather vast chamber.

  “My men unearthed this four months ago,” said Gregory, walking into the center of the great hall with arms spread wide in pride. “The chamber has been examined by both a Roman priest and a Jewish rabbi. They both agree on its origin…as well as purpose.”

  Each man stood awestruck by the sight. Spanning nearly fifty feet in height with a vaulted ceiling, the chamber was ornately decorated and trimmed with gold. Lavish relief carvings and mosaics covered the smooth surface of the walls—scenes depicting great battles and miracles from God intervening in the lives of the Jewish nation.

  But the baron’s guests gasped in near unison at what he’d brought them all here to see. Along the circular walls of the chamber stood twelve large statues that towered over the guests like dark juggernauts guarding the gates of Hell itself. Each figure was roughly nine feet tall with massive shoulders and arms that gripped the hilts of enormous bronze swords. Their faces, malformed in ancient clay, were depictions of various animals. An eagle. A goat. A bear. A serpent. And so on, with the most striking of all resembling that of a roaring lion.

  “What is this place?” asked Al-Dula, his eyes wide as he scanned each of the statues. “What do your clergymen say this was?”

  “That, my friend, is the question,” the baron said, his sightless, graying eye shining brightly in the torch light. “From what we have determined this was the central hub, of sorts, to a vast repository known only in whispers as Solomon’s Vault. It was constructed directly underneath what was once Solomon’s Temple.”

  Complete silence reigned throughout the chamber. No one moved as they absorbed this information. The implications were staggering to all save Horatio and his squire and Gregory could not have been more pleased. It was exactly the reaction he had hoped.

  “So that means we are directly beneath the Sacred Dome?” asked Al-Dula.

  “Exactly.”

  “But how has no one ever found this place?” Tufic asked. “The Temple was destroyed over a thousand years ago. Jews, Romans, Saracens, Christians…all these have searched this land high and low for any secret treasure chambers such as this. How could no one know this was here?”

  “Because no one knew where to look,” said Gregory. “By the time of Christ, the Jews had all but forgotten this place even existed. It was built by Solomon himself, well before Jerusalem was sacked by the Babylonians. It, at one time, was his personal treasure vault.”

  “Treasure?” asked Gerard.

  “Don’t become too excited, Captain. This chamber was not for just anything that glittered or shined. It was for objects of a particular variety. For things beyond all the treasures of the earth.”

  The Saracen warlord walked over to the southern wall and examined an intrinsically detailed painting of a group of men carrying a strange looking gold box. Lightning and fire seemed to surround not only the box, but the men carrying it as well. “You’re talking about the Ark of the Testimony, aren’t you?” Al-Dula hissed, a look of true understanding washing across his face. “Don’t tell me you have found it!”

  “No, I haven’t. At least not yet. But then, as you are aware, it was not for the Ark that I have been searching all these years,” said the baron.

  Al-Dula nodded. “The Urim and Thummim. The stones of ‘Revelation’ and ‘Truth.’”

  Gregory smiled. “Well, that is what I was originally searching for, yes,” he said, glancing slyly toward Monsignor Tertius. “But I long since gave up that search for something…much more tantalizing.”

  “What? You’ve given up?” the Vatican priest asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Lord Gregory, this is most displeasing. His excellency, the Pope, himself specifically commissioned you to find the stones. When he hears of this…”

  The baron waved him off. “Please, do shut up,” he growled, spinning around and pointing at one of the statues. “I’ve no interest in your opinion in this matter. Nor that of the Holy See. What I’m presenting to you is much more powerful than anything the divining stones of David could provide.”

  The guests stared at the clay figure to which Gregory was pointing. A look of confusion plastered across each man’s face.

  “What? These statues?” Tertius asked harshly. “You have forsaken your quest for a handful of old clay totems?”

  A hiss of understanding erupted from Al-Dula’s lips as he moved over to the lion-headed statue and examined it more closely. Its frame was littered with intricately carved pictograms and designs, depicting what looked to be some type of fierce battle scene. Script from some unknown tongue was etched along its arms, legs, and forehead with exacting precision.

  The Saracen spun around to face Gregory, a look of awe on his face. “Are these what I think they are?”

  The baron nodded with a smile. “They are.”

  Al-Dula’s eyes widened. “But are they active? Have you reactivated them yet?”

  The group stared silently at the exchanged until Monsignor Tertius cleared his throat and interjected. “See here,” he began. “What are you two going on about? What on earth is so special about these statues?”

  “Allow me start from the beginning, Your Excellency,” the baron cooed, moving over to the figure whose head was shaped like a boar. “When I first arrived here, I was driven to succeed in the Pope’s task in recovering the fabled Urim and Thummim. Through several years of research, I’d discovered that one of the last known locations for those relics was hidden somewhere underground. Some kind of vault created by King Solomon.” He nodded over at the Saracen warlord and held up the medallion that hung from his neck. “Thanks to this heirloom provided by our friend Al-Dula here, I was able to determine the precise location and immediately set about excavating. Six months ago, my men finally broke through and discovered this central Hub.”

  Gregory raised a gloved hand and caressed the broad arm of the statue and smiled.

  “That’s when I discovered these and my mission immediately changed.”

  The monsignor turned around in a full circle, examining the Hub and the six darkened passageways that lined its rounded wall. “I don’t understand. Surely you searched these tunnels further for the stones,” Tertius said. “You said so yourself that they were last known to be within these walls. A little more effort on your part and surely you will find them.”

  The baron whirled around and glared at the priest. “You’re mi
ssing the point, Monsignor. The stones are useless. Mere baubles for the Church to hide within their own vaults. Completely useless to anyone.” He smiled once more, trying to calm himself. “But these statues. Your Grace, these mere ‘totems’ as you call them represent near limitless power. A force which nothing on earth could even remotely hope to stop.”

  “I must admit, I’m a bit taken aback by all this. Confused.”

  “Of course you are,” Gregory mumbled, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I would expect nothing less from someone with as little imagination as you.”

  At this, Tufic cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Monsignor, I believe I begin to understand. These things that line the wall…Lord Gregory does not believe them to be mere statues.” The physician looked over at the baron. “You believe these are the twelve golems that are said to have been created by a vengeful wife of King Solomon, don’t you? The ones that legends say nearly destroyed all of Jerusalem until they were imprisoned by the king himself.”

  “Indeed,” said Gregory. “But I don’t just believe that’s what these things are. I know it.

  “But how? How can you know for sure?”

  “Never mind that,” growled the Monsignor. “What in the world is a golem? Why would it supersede the importance of the Urim and Thummim?””

  “Because, Your Grace, the Seeing Stones are simply powerless relics,” the baron said with a sigh. “But golems…golems are something much more useful. You see, they are living, breathing creatures…as Adam, they too were formed from the dust of the ground and were given life by the mystical means of Solomon’s very own Seal.

  “Tufic is correct. These are the very same that are said to have been created by a woman forced into marriage with the king. She despised him and she loathed the kingdom. So, she tricked him. She promised to show him the secret that her own people had been doing for centuries…creating clay automatons that would do the bidding of the one who brought them to life.”

  “Blasphemy!” the priest said. “Only God can create life. For anyone else to even attempt it would be…”

  “Disastrous,” the physician said. “Catastrophic. As Solomon himself discovered.”

  “Only because he had no way to know of his wife’s plan,” protested the baron. “By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. She’d already given her creations their instructions and there was nothing anyone could do.”

  Al-Dula stepped in between Gregory and the others.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Lord Gregory,” he said. “Are they active?”

  The baron smiled at the Saracen for several seconds without saying a word, then shrugged. “Yes,” he finally said. “In a manner of speaking, the golems you see before you are awake even now.”

  “In a manner of speaking?” Al-Dula asked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that they’ve been active since they were first animated. They do not die. They do not sleep. They are, as far as I know, fully aware of us and our presence within their prison.”

  “Then why aren’t they moving? Why not command them to do something so that we might know the truth of the matter?”

  Gregory let out frustrated laugh. “Because I do not have the power to command them just yet. Rakeesha, the wife of Solomon who created them, was their last master. They would only respond to her instructions. I am still attempting to discover the means to wrest control of them. I have no doubt that a scroll I’m currently searching for, the Sefer Yetzhirah, or Book of Creation, will provide me with an incredible fount of information on this subject. This book is said to have been kept in a secret library within these very walls and contains specific details on how to construct these creatures. Until I find those instructions, I’m afraid, the golems are—”

  “Excuse me, sir,” came Horatio’s grating voice. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but has anyone seen Samuel?”

  They all turned to face the knight with looks of incredulity on their faces. Gregory glared at Horatio. He wasn’t sure how much more of this imbecile and his idiot cousin he could take. What did he care where Samuel had wandered off…

  Oh no.

  “Where is he?” said Gregory, suddenly anxious over the chilling thought that had just occurred to him. “Find him! We must find him now.”

  Gerard bolted toward far left passage in the opposite end of the chamber from which they’d entered. The rest of the group waved their torches in front of them, peering into any dark recesses they could find within the vast Hub.

  “Samuel!” Horatio’s voice echoed through miles of tunnel. No response. “Samuel! This isn’t funny now.”

  Still nothing.

  Gregory turned on the knight, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him close. His foul breath and spit flew into Horatio’s face.

  “Tell me now, fool, did you not tell me that your squire was captured for a time by the demon?” the baron hissed, trying to keep the others from hearing. Waiting for the knight to respond, Gregory scanned the chamber to account for each member of their party.

  Gerard was nowhere to be seen, but then, he’d gone off in search of the squire. Al-Dula and the Saracen cleric were to his right. The priest from the Vatican was behind him.

  Wait. Where was the physician? He was missing as well. This could not be happening. Not now.

  “Tell me!” he shouted, drawing the attention of the would-be Caliph.

  “Um, yes sir. He was taken by the creature…but only for a bit. I found him soon enough. No harm done.”

  Pushing the knight away, Gregory spun around, spittle flying from his lips as he yelled. “If that whelp finds it…” the baron’s thought was interrupted by the sound of Tufic’s voice coming from their original tunnel.

  “He didn’t go back the way we came,” the physician said as he walked up to Gregory and the worried knight.

  The baron nodded as relief flooded his body. At least his concerns over William’s man could now be laid to rest. His whereabouts was now accounted for.

  Al-Dula came to Gregory, leaned in close, and whispered, “I’m not sure what is going on here, Baron, but there is too much at stake to allow such incompetence in your ranks.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “I’m not sure you do. You have not done well against this spirit that haunts you. Now, you allow this man’s squire to wander off unhindered into your treasure vault.”

  “I can assure you, Al-Dula, everything is under control.”

  The Saracen warlord grabbed Gregory by the collar and pulled him to his face. Fire burned in his eyes as he glared at the baron.

  “Listen to me, little man,” Al-Dula hissed. “We had a deal. The price for helping you find the Vault was that you would provide me the means to do away with the Sultan once and for all. An army of golems could do just that. There is simply too much at stake to—”

  His words were cut off by the sound of scuffling feet and a cry of pain in the passage that Gerard had entered. Several seconds later, the mercenary walked out from the dark, holding Samuel by the scruff of the neck.

  “I found him marking the walls with this,” said Gerard, shoving Samuel to the ground and holding up a strange writing instrument. “He was leaving some kind of secret message to someone.”

  Gregory slapped Al-Dula’s hands away from his tunic and stepped toward Samuel’s prone form. They had been infiltrated. Somehow, the Djinn had bewitched the whelp…the baron was sure of it. Kicking the squire in the gut, Gregory spun around and walked toward the tunnel that led back to the entrance.

  “This meeting is over, gentleman,” the baron said. “Gerard, take the traitor to the dungeon and prepare him for questioning. We will continue this tour of the treasure vault when I have the answers I seek.”

  Horatio hurried over to his injured cousin and lifted him to his feet, but Gerard pushed him away.

  “He’s mine now,” the mercenary said with a malicious smile.

  9

  “Ho
ratio! Come in, come in,” said the familiar voice of William De L’Ombre from behind the beautiful, red velvet curtains.

  The knight hesitated, struggling to prepare himself for what awaited him upon entering his old friend’s parlor. He had not seen William in years—not since before he was taken prisoner and came to live with Samir ibn Nassad, the sheik who had taken such a liking to him that he made him officially an heir to his title and fortune. He’d not seen him since before he had contracted that horrid disease.

  Horatio shuddered at the thought. It was just so difficult to accept. William had always been so strong, so vibrant. And while he was by no means the biggest and strongest of the knights, he had always been the most courageous and…Horatio sighed at the next thought…loyal.

  Yes. William had always been loyal to a fault. Something that Horatio knew could not be said about himself. It had been because of him that William had been injured and captured in the first place. It had been because Horatio had been flung from his injured horse…because he had lain helplessly immobile on the battlefield, his fallen horse pinning his legs, that his good and loyal friend had turned around to save him. It had been because of him that William had suffered such disgrace by the other gentry in Jerusalem.

  And what had Horatio done to repay him? Nothing at all. Not once had he ever come to William’s chateau to check on him. Not one single time had he visited, seeking to discover the truth behind what the others were saying. He hadn’t even bothered to come when the sheik and his other sons—William’s own adopted brothers—had been massacred by Gregory’s mercenary army.

  No, Horatio didn’t know the meaning of the word loyalty. Only now, when his cousin and squire lay helpless in Gregory’s dank dungeons did he bother to show his face to his old friend. He was so ashamed. But he didn’t know what else to do. Only Gregory’s brother had any chance of influencing Samuel’s release.

  Taking a deep breath, Horatio pulled the curtain back and walked into the parlor. His tension eased when he did not walk headfirst into the leprous monster his imagination had concocted over the years. William was covered from head to foot in loose fitting white robes and a semi-opaque veil that covered his entire head. His hands were even gloved with some fabric that the knight had never seen before. Shiny. Smooth. He wasn’t sure what the material was, but it looked very expensive.