Dark Thorn - Grim Oak Press

S HAWN S PEAKMAN
“You have the Lord and the Church on your side,” the Cardinal
Vicar said. “Let no one stand in your way.”
“I will not, your Eminence,” Finn Arne promised.
“The jet will be ready when you arrive to the airstrip,” Cormac
said. “Assemble your team. The centuries-long secret of the Vigilo
cannot be discovered by this boy. Be the Shield you were meant
to be. Do not delay.” The Cardinal paused. “And do not fail me.”
Finn Arne rose, bowed, and left, fire in his lone eye.
Cormac watched him go. Finn would see the job done now
that his focus was in the right place. It had been years since the
Kreche had last been observed in the city of Seattle, just as it
had been years since the Heliwr strode the world. If the boy had
been given the seed—if the old man had surfaced to gain his new
champion—then Cormac and those of the Vigilo had to be prepared
to counter the wizard and be ready to take advantage of it.
But why had a fey creature from Annwn gone after the scion
of Ardall?
There was some element Cormac missed.
He shook his head. With religious zealotry feverish in the
Middle East and throughout the world, Cormac would do what
was necessary to destroy it and other evils.
To gain the power of the Heliwr would tip the scales in favor
of the Church.
And give Cormac a direct path to the papacy.
Assured Finn Arne was gone, Cormac changed into his official
robes and ventured into the bowels of the papal apartments. The
light of overhead lamps dimmed with every floor he left. Down
he went, each descended staircase a gripe to hips and knees, until
he entered tunnels devoid of any light source and had to flip on
a flashlight. Chill seeped from the stone, followed by damp and
mold, strengthening until he had to breathe through his mouth.
The bones of the city’s birth grew around him, decayed from millennia
of dripping water and misuse.
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