Part 25 (2/2)
”From the Inquisition and to whatever it is youre leading them to,” Father Martin replied cryptically.
Gonji met his gaze, puzzled as to his meaning. ”Im not leading anyone anywhere. Right now Im just running. As fast and as far as I can from this place.”
”Mmmm. But they are following you, you know. Impelled by a sense of import to all this. I think that if you make it to Austria youll find youre even more notorious-and yet more respected-than you think. Many lives are risked-many lost-to save you. My only prayer is that you make good your restored life. If you possess secret knowledge of the workings of Evil, then use that knowledge to combat it. And por favor, kill no man randomly, lest you make me your accomplice before G.o.d.”
Gonji pondered the priests words, their heady intimations setting his mind to reeling. Cascading notions, a.s.sumptions, memories, and experiences finally were laid to rest pending such time as he might sift through them rationally. Flight was all that mattered now.
A ma.s.sive explosion rocked the city-powder magazines igniting. De la Cenza and some of the soldiers crossed themselves.
”So unnecessary now,” the priest fretted. ”Go. Before I recover my senses and perform my sworn duty.”
Gonji bowed to him, the priest replying in kind, and when they did so, there came to their ears shrieks of horror. And a savage roaring above the square.
They looked back toward the cathedral that dominated the sky at the center of Toledo: Musket shot and arrows laced the smoke-filled night air. In the center of it all, bellowing down at the defenders from atop the cathedrals very spires, was the snarling form of the great golden werewolf, Simon Sardonis.
”Si,” de la Cenza said on a quavering breath, ”si, he has also come, even as you said he would-go! Go now, swiftly, lest he harm anyone-Dios mio!”
For a moment Gonji could not tear his eyes from the sight of the creatures primitive fury. The memories of the campaign in Vedun which haunted his sleep welled up again.
And then his companions were urging him on, and soon they were descending the river gorge that protected three sides of Toledo. Barges and rowboats waited in the darkness, moored tenuously in the surging river. Civilians and soldiers alike gathered on the banks, flushed with terror and exertion, beacon-eyed with expectation. Gonji impatiently abided a welter of introductions as the craft were loaded.
He was bewildered by it all as he took his place aboard a barge. He would have preferred a more clandestine escape. This was sheer madness. A disorganized mob. Women and children were endangered by the fire from the small skirmishes that now broke out with lancer patrols.
They at last broke their moorings and swept down the river toward the east, Gonji imagining that he could still hear the cries of that monstrous beast, the golden-hued werewolf, whose destiny was somehow amazingly linked with his own in prophetic accounts. Then he thought again of the voice hed heard briefly, earlier in the night, a voice full of vibrant memories without names or faces.
The polemen ran them aground on the bank at the predetermined spot, screaming pa.s.sengers being jolted and dumped into the water with the impact. Gonjis mind itched in reaction to this chaotic plan as those who had fallen overboard were pulled up and other craft drifted by, some people calling out well wishes.
Another band of escapees approached on foot and horseback. Soldiers, for the most part.
Where in h.e.l.l are they all running? Gonji found himself wondering. By the Great Kami, they cant all be in trouble with the Inquisition.
He was thinking again of Father Martins karma-laden words, and of Jacob Neriahs rumblings about Moses and the Knights of Wonder and his daisho-and where was the old Jew? He must have something to do with this lunacy, since he had seen that Gonji was sent his swords. And then he remembered the heavy burden of responsibility Domingo Negro had tried to make him accept that night she had appeared to him. And the similar challenges of adventurers in days gone by. Emeric. Joost van de Berg. Rima. Mabenga. Clement the Virgin. Brother Friedrich. And even- And then he was thinking about other things. Captain Salguero, sweat-streaked and bloodied, boarded the barge, bowing to him and clasping his hand.
Behind him appeared Valentina, cloaked but s.h.i.+vering in the cold. Her eyes transmitted warmth and wildness and feelings that stirred their like in him, though she said nothing.
Suddenly Gonji almost found himself wis.h.i.+ng that once more there could be a wall between them, for he feared what her impulsiveness might cause her to do even in this wildly precarious situation.
And even more, as the others watched, he feared his own desire to capitulate.
The city defenders turned their futile rage toward restoring order. No guerillas attacked the Spanish soldiers as they cast about for something to fight. The anarchic rebels had disappeared like transient specters of the night, like will-o-the-wisps that flared briefly into life, only to wink out before any hand could touch them. No enemy confounded their efforts to bring the fires under control, to enforce the curfew, to collect the aimlessly shuffling horses and cattle. No monsters raged, now, over the rooftops, frightening the children in their beds, terrorizing the soldiers in their duty. It was rumored that the oriental witch had escaped the Inquisitions flames during the uprising, but that had not yet been substantiated. Other rumors abounded as to the reason for these mad events.
And even as they wondered who or what their enemy was, the would-be enemy fled Toledo.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
Thick smoke fumed over the city of Toledo, towering into the crisp autumn night. The city slowly came to its senses, sorted itself out beneath him, as Anton Balaerik gazed down from the battlements of the Alcazar, eyes twitching with unanswered questions.
Why did he resist? He wanted to come, but he resisted. The spirit of the host has become too strong. Now he must die along with that pious host. And even more importantly-along with the samurai. The creatures father will understand. He must understand. It is a necessary expedient.
He thought of the Grand Scheme for power and control framed by the planners in a far-off sphere. Far-off and yet paradoxically very near in this age of the rediscovery of the gateways. These stampeding, panic-driven little people in this Europe, on this world, were so ignorant of the forces that guided their destiny. Ah, the things they called Evil! The beings they labeled demons!
Balaerik smiled and shook his head in smug amus.e.m.e.nt.
Just a few minor details to attend to, and my work is through here, for now.
Moving without hurry to the High Office, he went straightaway to Bishop Ign.a.z.io Izquierdos private chamber. There he found the interim Grand Inquisitor on his knees, immersed in quaking prayer.
”Your Eminence,” he broke in softly.
”Balaerik,” Izquierdo said, rising shakily, ”what in G.o.ds name did we do wrong? How could he have escaped? The demon familiar came, even as he said it would. It freed him at the very moment of our glorious victory over Evil. Now both of them are unleashed upon the world again. What can I do?”
Balaerik raised a comforting hand. ”Patience. All is not lost. We must unite our forces to track them down and see them destroyed.”
”It was a no-win situation for me,” the bishop said. ”You held me back when I might have burned the witch at any time.”
”On the contrary. Power was in your hands all along. I merely advised you.”
Izquierdos eyes went wide, their inner fires fueled and fanned as he contemplated aloud. ”Si-I am Grand Inquisitor.”
”You are Grand Inquisitor,” Balaerik echoed patronizingly.
”The crusade against Evil is mine.”
”That is so,” the tall donado agreed.
”I must torture and burn and flay until the Master is satisfied that all the twisted infidels are eradicated.” Izquierdos voice was laced with fervor now. ”But-but what is the 'Masters name, Balaerik? Dare we say it?”
”No. No, we dare not. Because of the work we do, we must humble ourselves and speak not the most holy names.” Balaerik smiled now as he led the tormented man through his rhapsodic reverie.
”But how then shall we know him?” Izquierdo fretted. ”How shall we who fight the good fight identify ourselves to one another?”
Balaerik extracted the round reliquary he had once shown the Grand Inquisitor, turning it over and over in his hand as he spoke. ”Each man must know his own master, must keep that knowledge in his own secret heart. What does it matter who others believe his master to be? But now, there are other matters to attend to, Your Eminence.” Izquierdos s.h.i.+ning eyes fixed on the glimmering sphere rolling in Balaeriks palm. He saw nothing else, as the donado exerted his powerful will. ”Now you must send word of the escaped witches and infidels and the tragic apostates who flee Toledo and holy justice.”
”Si, I must,” Izquierdo said helplessly.
”The kings finest troops must pursue them, run them down-destroy them. You must alert every outpost. Messengers must be sent to the farthest reaches, to every port.”
The bishop nodded with grave deliberation.
”And my own Corps d Elite will join in the holy slaughter, such that no drop of blood shall remain to course in the veins of the infidels and their demonic leaders.”
”Si-it shall be done.”
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