NOVEL LINKS

NOVELS PENDING POSTING

Prologue

Marcus stood in the dwindling candle light, watching each of the remaining eight burning candles silently wink out of existence as the wax was exhausted.  His rough hand slid over his naked scalp and his steel blue eyes slowly closed; did the Triptych fail, he wondered secretly.   The slight breeze twisted the once stationary candles and Marcus felt the cool dampness of the fall air.  He had not heard the small chapel door open, but he knew it opened and now he faced the truth.  “Zion?” Marcus questioned aloud, his voice ringing hollowly through the empty sanctuary, reverberating off the stone.  When no response came, his fingers twitched uncharacteristically as he asked again, “Zion?”

            A dull thud, as if a body collapsed entirely under its own weight, without aid or assistance, came from behind him.  Marcus lifted his six-foot four inch frame, flexing his muscles, while stretching his arms out wide — he slowly turned around.  Upon the floor of the small chapel Zion’s body rested, crumpled in a heap, though Marcus’s keen eyes could see the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

            Behind the fallen Zion arose a shadowed figure.  Marcus waited intently, peering, straining against the gloom at the figure.  It wore a cassock over its broad shouldered frame, and as Marcus continued to strain his vision, the last seven candles winked out, leaving him in total darkness.

            Though the Triptych rarely felt fear, in that moment, wrapped in the heavy darkness, Marcus felt an unfamiliar twinge at the base of his spine.  The impenetrable darkness warped the sensation of time, and as he stood entwined within the dark’s abyssal depth, he knew the stranger was in front of him, watching him.  He could feel the prying eyes, drawing over his body.  Marcus waited.  There was no sound, no vibrations—only the audible thumping of Marcus’ heart and the steady, rhythmic breathing.  Then a flicker of light arose, banishing the darkness.  Then another, and another, then all the candles in the chapel ignited fully, bathing the entirety of the chapel in shifting light.  Marcus instantly recognized the stranger was gone and that Zion remained on the cold stone floor.  Just seconds after the light returned, Volstov lurched through the door.  Volstov was a short round man, with a thick and graying beard and extensively receding hair line of stubby grey hair.  He, like Marcus, was part of the Triptych and wore the garments of a catholic priest.

            “Where is Aaron?” Volstov stated in his resonantly deep voice, “I swore I saw him enter —I was but a moment behind.”

            “Marcus”—Zion’s weak voice shuddered.

            Both Marcus and Volstov quickly found Zion’s side.  He appeared weak and drained of life, his eyes were sunken and his once brilliant blue eyes were diminished, lacking in luster.  It was unexplainable.

            “Marcus, Volstov,” Zion softly said, “Aaron is on his way to London.  I sent him from the rebuilt cathedral to London.”

            Marcus pondered the new information discreetly.  Subtly he rechecked the small pouch beneath his robes and was reassured by the heavy package that was still there.  “Did Aaron take the relic with him?”

            Zion uttered no words but instead nodded in affirmation, and after a few moments stated simply in a colder tone than Marcus had ever heard prior, “The Rod of Uriel was lost.”

            “Lost?” exclaimed Volstov, “How?  When?”

            Zion’s eyes glanced toward Volstov, “After you gave me the Relic, the Rod of Uriel, so you could assist Aaron, a man—a large man—appeared before me.  The man did not sneak upon me nor did he quickly close on me, he simply arrived there.”  Zion paused and appeared to deeply consider the events before he continued.  “He wore a cassock, his features were well proportioned, his body muscular and his face bore a stern countenance that radiated compassion though there was a rage in his eyes.”

            Many moments passed as Zion continued to stare at Marcus and Volstov.  As the weight of the silence continued to grow, Volstov pushed harder, “Zion, did the man take the Relic?”

            A quick glance from Zion silenced Volstov, after all Zion was the Master of the Triptych.  “Eventually, yes, though I tried to run, I heard a voice within my own head ‘I Trenton, will guard the gate, not you who are but a quarter.’  I was powerless—I could think, and my mind screamed for me to run, but I was paralyzed, unable to move.  It was as if time eased except for him—Trenton—he moved freely and gracefully.  I could only watch as his hand reached out and clasped the satchel that contained the Relic.  I swear my mind screamed to my body to move, but not even my eyes blinked.”

            “Then what?” Marcus prodded, “How did you come to be here, in this enfeebled state?”

            Zion heaved a heavy sigh, “I continued to try to force my body to move, then suddenly, I sprang forward.  The man whirled around on me with a shocked expression, which I am sure equaled my own.  He raised a hand and struck me square in the chest.  I felt my body go cold, the lights dimmed around me, then just as suddenly I was thrown away from him, and I struck the pillar and collapsed.”

            Volstov stared awestruck at Marcus for many seconds, but Marcus knew what was going through his head, how could this have happened?

            “He had dropped the Relic when he hit me.”  Zion said at length, “and I retrieved it from the sands at my feet and ran.  That is when I staggered and fell through the door, Marcus, and he was right behind me—I could feel it, I could hear him: ‘Dear Quarter-child, give me the relic to protect for all time, for you know not the power concealed.’ Then it all went black.”

            This man, Trenton as he called himself, had referred to them all as quarter-children, a term he was not familiar with.  From what Zion had told him four years ago in 1504, when he was initially inducted into the Triptych, as its first member, the Seraph Seal had failed, and according to Zion he was looking for special men to assist him.

            The conversation had continued through that night as Zion explained that in 1333 the Church of the Archangel was erected to seal a twisted creation, part man, and part something other than man.  No other explanation was needed and the crusade was spearheaded by the Triptych.  Eventually the Roman Catholic Church devoted aid and the church was completed, and granted Cathedral status—forever the prison of the Vampir.

            Since the sealing, the Catholic Church slowly forgot about the cathedral in Moscow, and forgot what was entombed.  In 1497 the seal was broken by an unknown priest, it still is not known if it was intentional or accidental.  Either way, the Vampir trickled out and Zion was charged by the Vatican to reseal the tomb.  To aid, Aleviz Fryazin Noviy was sent from Italy to Moscow, to work on the reconstruction.

            Zion had commissioned and reformed the Triptych and Marcus, Volstov, and Aaron were inducted.  Everything failed and in 1507 all seemed lost.  It was then, as the new grand cathedral was nearing completion that heavenly help arrived.

            Uriel, Michael, and Gabriel, magnificent angels of power subdued the Vampir and entrusted the Triptych with the relics, which together could open the gate yet again.  When Uriel, Michael, and Gabriel returned we were left to disburse the pieces of the relic.  It was cut into three pieces:  one rod of shiny and extraordinarily hard metal, was seven inches long, and was named the Rod of Michael; the second rod was of the same metal and size and was named the Rod of Uriel.  The third piece was of the same metal, but was only two inches long and as thick as half a finger, the nail of Gabriel.

            “Marcus?”

            Marcus shook his head a moment and looked up to see the soft brown eyes of Volstov peering at him, along with a concerned look from Zion.  “I’m sorry I was remembering how this all started.”

            “Was it that long ago?” Volstov said with a slight upward curl of the corners of his lips into a smile.

            “Yes, it was.” Zion interjected, “And we have a long way yet to go—now that the Rod of Uriel has gone and missing.”

            “It’s gone but hardly missing,” a melodic and distinctly masculine voice said, “For I have it right here.”  The three heads of the Triptych snapped to the chapels alter.  There, kneeling at the altar, beneath the crucifix, was the stranger.  He made no sudden moves and kept his head bowed as if he were praying.  Softly the final words were heard, as each strained to hear, “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti...”  The man crossed his chest and stood.  “I am Trenton, once Father Trenton, but no more.”  His voice was hypnotic and Marcus fought to keep his wits about him.

            “I am Zion, the Master of the Order of the Triptych.  That is Marcus.”  As Zion spoke, he pointed to his companions, “And this is—”

            “Volstov,” Trenton completed the statement cutting off Zion.  “I know who and what you are.”

            “What we are?” Volstov questioned with his eyebrows rising noticeably.

            Followed immediately by Zion’s equally surprised expression and own question, “Who we are?”

            Marcus stood quietly awaiting the inevitable unfolding, as he, against his better judgment assumed that Trenton was planning on revealing his harbored knowledge.  Why else would he be here?

            “I am Trenton,” he said with a chiding smile, “And you there, are part of a group of four, known secretly as the Triptych and are here by order of the Holy Catholic Church to reseal the gate beneath the deep catacombs of the Archangel Cathedral ─ banishing or entombing the Vampir and evil there for all eternity.”

            Both Marcus and Volstov looked at Zion for direction, but Zion’s face was as shocked as theirs.  At length, Zion finally questioned Trenton again, “What are you?”

            “A Vampir.”

            “What!” exclaimed Zion, his face reddening, “You are Vampir?”

            “Yes.”

            “You wear the crucifix?” Marcus objected seeing the holy symbol attached to a thin silver chain, “No Vampir can stand the holy cross, it burns them.”

            “I am also a priest and serve the Pater Dias.” Trenton stated coldly.

            Just as Marcus had worked it out, Zion interjected, “You are—you are the priest who broke the seal in 1497!”

            “Yes.”

            “Then you let the darkness out and created this nightmare.  Hundreds, thousands died because of your—” Marcus was cut short by Trenton

            “Understand that I was deceived.  Once in the dark they took me.”  Trenton moved his hair and exposed his neck.

            “They took you?” Zion sighed shaking his head in disbelief.

            “Yes,” Affirmed Trenton.

            Marcus pondered the new information.  He knew that a few, a small handful of Vampir had evaded imprisonment.  It was one of the reasons for separating the Relic into the three parts.  To have a Vampir so near and so casual was unraveling to him.  Vampir drank blood to survive and were twisted and vile creatures—pulseless and dead to the world—immortal and powerful.  The obvious had to be addressed first. “How do you feed?”

            Trenton’s facade drooped and he took on a countenance of stone, “I hunt.”

            “Humans?” Zion asked as he shifted his body on the floor, trying to get into a position to run if needed.

            “I feast on beasts that man feeds on as well, though I hunger for your blood,” Trenton said with a smile.  “Thank the Lord for my unwavering devotion to abstain from my desires.  Something I learned first as a priest.”

            “I can accept that,” Zion said solemnly.

            “As can I,” Volstov softly added, warily.

            “What about you Marcus?” asked Trenton.

            Marcus watched the unfeeling eyes, trying to pry beyond them into the depths of the abyss, but nothing stared back, not this time.  “I can accept it, but I will be watching carefully.”

            “We all will be,” Said Zion.

            “Understandable,” Trenton replied without any flinch.

            Zion shifted, and then using his good arm pushed himself up.  “What now? As you can expect we don’t want to give up the entire Relic.  We divided it’s parts it for a reason.”

            “I understand.  I only need one piece.”  Trenton said walking over to Zion.  “I only need one piece to make sure it is never put together again.”

            “As you are Vampir, I have trouble with that,” Zion started, “But you are a creature of God too.  For God can use darkness to fulfill his will, who am I to object to God’s will?”

            “We are the more secure guardians—the Triptych!” Volstov said, his face reddening as the words tumbled out.

            “And in time you will die—though old and in many years you will pass on, whereas I will not,” Shot Trenton.

            His logic is sound, Marcus reasoned silently, and if we, the Triptych, hold two of the pieces, that is better than none.  Still there remained questions though he knew there were no answers, not now.  “I agree with Trenton,” Marcus said while never breaking his stare, “God help us.”

            “Our word is our blood,” Zion stated coldly, ‘We will hide and protect the two pieces, you take the one.  Go with God.”

            Trenton bowed, “I swear to honor the Pact, to protect it always, to serve the Triptych—finis ex voto!”

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