Like other catacombs above, this was a necropolis of history.
It didn’t take long for the Heliwr to come to an open oak door banded in rune-etched iron, the warm glow of light welcoming.
Letting the Dark Thorn vanish, he stepped inside with Beck Almgren.
The room was a simple space, orderly—a reflection of the person who lived in it. Candles chased the shadows and a fire blazed warmth from a hearth in the corner of the room, casting its glow over two plush chairs and a bed pushed up against the wall. Books of various sizes and colors lined the shelves of several bookcases. A Bible as old as any Charles had seen sat upon a pedestal in the middle of the room, open, while the Fionúir Mirror, a talisman the Cardinal Seer used to view Annwn, hung upon one of the walls, the seeing glass shrouded in black velvet, its secrets hidden.
Charles took it all in but was suddenly filled with dismay.
Upon the bed lay Bruno Ricci. Clothes bloodied and torn, the most powerful of the portal knights had taken a beating to protect Rome from the vampires who had entered it. One arm lay crooked, clearly broken; gashes rent his flesh everywhere else, bleeding into new bandages. Smaller abrasions already purpled. He breathed strongly though, his chest rising and falling regularly, giving Charles hope he would recover sooner rather than later.
And Bruno appeared not to have been bitten.
Charles breathed a bit easier then. There were worse fates than defeat, and vampirism was one of them.
Two other men stood at the foot of the bed, looking down on Bruno. Cardinal Seer Donato Javier Ramirez stroked a thinly bearded chin, his body stooped and pate shiny in the candlelight. He lived in the chamber, his role as Seer of the Vigilo keeping him close to the portal. He had lived eight decades and, while blind, had survived countless invasions from Annwn. Charles had befriended him years before, the animosity between the Catholic Church and the pagan-empowered knights holding no influence over the relationship the two men shared.
Beside the Cardinal stood a man who appeared younger than the Seer but was infinitely older. Merle, once known as the ancient wizard Myrddin Emrys, looked upon Bruno with worry, his hair and beard white, and his ever-present pipe held in his right hand. Charles had never seen him in Rome, let alone on Church grounds. Merle was directly responsible for taking control of the portals from the Vigilo centuries earlier and empowering his own knights—those without political or religious gain—with Arthurian relics of old, a last act of magic to balance the various powerful influences in the world.
If Merle risked the ire of the Church by entering the Vatican—powerless as he now was—the situation was dire indeed.
The Cardinal Seer turned toward Charles, his milky eyes seeing more than most.
“Lower your weapon, Captain,” he ordered. “Before yeh doom us all.”
Beck Almgren did so without hesitation but gave Charles a final glance that dared violence of any kind.
“Thank you,” Cardinal Ramirez added.
“It is good to see you well, Cardinal Seer,” Charles greeted, stepping forward to grasp the older man’s hands firmly. He was saddened at the lack of strength in the return grip. “It is unfortunate we have met again under circumstances such as these.”
“Yer role is one of peril. And peril calls it,” the Seer cackled sadly. “The last time was that particularly nasty troll who tore up the Sistine Chapel, was it not? One day, perhaps we will continue our debate on if God created the fey Tuatha de Dannan.”
“It is one I will win yet,” Charles said, smiling. He turned to Merle. “I’m surprised to find you here.”
“I am where I am needed most, always,” Merle said, a twinkle in his light blue eyes. He wore his usual khaki pants and white dress shirt. He raised his pipe and looked toward the Cardinal Seer. “Donato, may I?”
“I prefer not, Myrddin,” the Cardinal said. “Other than my fireplace, ventilation does not come easily down here. My apologies.”
“None to give,” Merle said a bit sadly, pocketing the pipe.
“He should not be here,” Beck Almgren growled lowly, clearly annoyed by the ancient wizard.
“Captain, yeh are new to yer role and have much to learn,” Cardinal Ramirez chastised, ignoring the man’s irritation. “Heliwr Charles Ardall is one of the bravest men I have met. He has carried the Dark Thorn now for several years and does so with conviction and wisdom.” The Seer paused. “Charles, the Vigilo is largely absent from Rome at this time, the other seven Cardinals attending their flocks. Only the Pope is within Vatican City.”
“Has he been notified?” Charles asked.
“His Excellency has not, nor should he be,” the Cardinal said. He narrowed blind eyes at the captain, preemptively silencing him. “I speak with God’s love, but Pope Urban has a tendency to be rash when affairs of Annwn arise.”
“You wish this taken care more discreetly then,” Charles affirmed.
“Just so.”