Charles located the command’s source as Berrytrill hid his presence in the folds of the Heliwr’s cloak. Across the cavern, men wearing the blue, red, orange, and yellow uniforms of Vatican Swiss Guards came into view from the entrance of the catacombs, aiming rifles and pistols at the newcomer. Charles cursed inwardly. If they were present, it meant the portal knight Bruno Ricci had fallen—perhaps was even now dead. It also meant the Vigilo and likely even the Pope knew of the vampiric incursion from Annwn, making the role Charles carried all the more difficult.
A tall thin man wearing all black with the Swiss Guard crest sewn into his sweater stepped to the forefront, no fear in his icy eyes. Pistols remained holstered on his hips, hands near enough to draw but far enough away not to provoke. Charles knew the role the man fulfilled for the Vatican despite having never met him.
“I give no cause for alarm,” Charles greeted, raising hands in supplication. “I am here to set right the wrong that has transpired today.”
“I will be the judge of that,” the man said gruffly. He raised his chin ever so slightly. “Cardinal Seer Ramirez said a man would exit the portal, one bearing a black staff.” He paused. “I do not see a staff.”
“Who are you?” Charles questioned sternly, bringing his own authority to bear.
“I am Beck Almgren, Captain of the Vatican’s Swiss Guard.”
“And bearer of Prydwen,” Charles said. “Shield of Arthur.”
Surprise flickered in the other’s eyes but it was quickly banished.
“I am.”
“Captain, I am Charles Ardall. I am no threat to you. I am the Heliwr of the Yn Saith. It is my responsibility to ensure this world and that of Annwn remain separate if a portal knight fails in their duties. That failure occurred, so I am here to end the threat that has entered your home.” He paused. “Please, have your guards lower their weapons.”
“That may be,” Beck Almgren said. “But I still need to see that staff.”
Charles nodded, slightly annoyed. He reached into the ether between his world and that of Annwn, calling the badge of his office, drawing the fount of his power. It happened easily. The staff materialized, the wood black and comforting in his hand, its top gnarled like a cudgel. Faint white light pulsed along its length. The Dark Thorn had been his now for many years, the responsibility he carried become such a part of him he couldn’t remember a time without it. It aided his hunt for those who wrongfully crossed; it also kept him safe against creatures his world knew nothing about.
The guards didn’t lower their weapons, though. Instead, fear filled the cavern. Remembering the panic he had felt the first time Merle had shown him magic, Charles kept the power of the Dark Thorn between him and the Vatican forces.
In case one of them did something quite foolish.
“Stand down, Captain,” Charles ordered. “I am no threat.”
Beck Almgren immediately understood the gravity of the situation. The men under his command knew nothing of Annwn and the responsibility he carried, the need for secrecy vital in keeping the two worlds separate. None of them knew he possessed Prydwen, an Arthurian relic fifteen centuries old that protected him no matter the damage visited on his person. They also did not know the duty Charles carried. They were pieces in a secret chess match privy to a chosen few.
With a curt order from their captain, the guards lowered their weapons, although the distrust did not disappear.
“I think the Swiss Guard should remain here,” Charles said.
“To ensure nothing else enters from Annwn,” Beck Almgren agreed. “I will escort you to the Cardinal Seer’s chambers then.”
Charles crossed the cavern, stepping carefully around the corpses. Berrytrill kept hidden, wise to the necessity of secrecy. The Swiss Guards may have seen the Heliwr call magic, but seeing a real fairy—the fey creature blasphemous to the Catholic Church and those who followed it—would likely have been more than many could bear.
As the Heliwr drew close, Beck Almgren pulled free a single pistol and clicked the safety off.
“I won’t hesitate to use this if your intentions are ill.”
“Then there won’t be need to use it.”
“Cardinal Seer Ramirez awaits. If you truly are the one he has called, Charles Ardall, I believe you know the way.”
Charles did. With Beck Almgren walking behind, pistol at the ready, the Heliwr made his way through the underground, the Dark Thorn striking the stone of the cavern with every other step. The tunnel wound like a snake through the bedrock of Italy, the walls chiseled smooth by stonemasons more than a millennia dead. Charles shuddered. The chill infiltrated deep, and the odor of stale death surrounded him. It was a world few had seen, one as unchanging as a graveyard. After minutes, they stood in a large room where a well had been driven deep into the Earth, a winch and bucket ready to draw water, the only evidence that someone lived in these environs. The room had three other doorways leading to different parts of the catacombs, two snaking beneath Rome and the other cutting up toward the city.
Charles took the left-hand corridor and continued onward. Beck Almgren followed. The passageway sloped gradually upward, the air growing warmer with each step. Sarcophagi and skeletal remains lay within holes bored into the path’s walls. The dead slept a long slumber here, the catacombs housing some of the most important members of the Catholic Church.