“It has been more than ten years since the Heliwr strode the world,” James said. “Could Merle be championing another, Richard?”
“If he does act to fill the role of the Unfettered Knight, he does it without my counsel.”
“You should ask him, Rick,” Alastair said.
“You know him as well as I do,” Richard said. “He acts when it suits him.”
“I can tell you one thing I’ve learned in all of my studies,” James said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It would be to our benefit that the next Heliwr share our values and not be controlled by the Vatican. Decades ago one such Heliwr walked the world, and he enacted all sorts of mischief for the Church. Assassinations. Political pressure. Theft of important secret information from many countries. In our current political climate, a Heliwr controlled by the Church could destabilize the Middle East further. Imagine, an assassin removing Islamic leaders with the ease of magic. It would be another crusade. It would ultimately lead the world to all-out war, more than likely.”
“One of us should send the Vicar to his crypt,” Sal muttered.
“He will be exposed for his greed if he is indeed attempting to gain control of the Heliwr, Sal,” Arnaud said. “Instead, we need to focus on this boy.”
“Bran is just a kid,” Richard answered. “Merle is unpredictable though. He might have found a new Heliwr.”
“Undoubtedly the old codger has wheels within wheels turning,” Sal rumbled. “He always has.”
“Ennio,” Richard said. “We know not what is going on here. Keep aware. St. Peter’s is the heart of Catholic tenure and although a Pope’s death would not be damaging to the world, perhaps those in Annwn have a plan that we simply cannot see yet.”
The Rome knight nodded but said nothing.
“If the rest of you come up with any other ideas or solutions, we’ll reconvene here,” Richard continued, hands in pockets. “Be strong. Thanks for coming.”
The other knights began to fade from the sunshine.
Richard sighed, the answers he had sought still beyond his reach. He breathed in the peace of the beautiful Annwn day, hoping it would settle the disquiet growing at his center.
When he returned to Seattle, he felt no different.
The night dark and dank about him, his dreams filled with the darkest creatures of the subconscious, Richard sensed movement of foreign air and erupted from troubled sleep to grab the wrist of his transgressor.
“Let go of me, jerkoff!” a voice yelped.
Richard did not hesitate. Thick blankets thrown off, he gained his feet like a cat and slammed his assailant against the building of the alley before realizing he recognized the voice.
It was the boy.
Bran pinned and of no threat, Richard swept the darkness. Moonlight glimmered like frost beyond the alley where he made his makeshift bed, but it failed to illuminate beyond a rough outline. No sound penetrated the gloom; it was the middle of the night and the city slumbered. Memories of the previous night still thick, Richard penetrated the shadows where danger could lurk, not taking anything for granted.
It took only a moment. No other entity existed in the alley.
The boy was alone.
Richard shook Bran. “What are you doing here?!” he seethed.
Bran ignored the vehemence and stared back with cold eyes.
“Merle…”
“Merle what, whelp?”
“Merle sent me to find you,” Bran said, pain at the edge of his words.
His adrenaline flowing away, Richard let the boy go. Bran slid down the wall but quickly straightened, adjusting his coat and regaining his composure.
“I told you not to go out at night,” Richard admonished. Bran just stared back with a mixture of awe and distrust. When the boy didn’t answer, Richard grabbed the front of his coat anew. “Why does Merle want to see me?”
“I want to know what happened the other night.”
“What does Merle want?” the knight repeated, ignoring the request.
“Look, I’m not an idiot,” Bran said. “I’ve been around. Been taking care of myself a long time. Never have I seen creatures like we saw the other night. Never have I seen a man with a flaming sword running around a city like it was the damn medieval ages.”
“You should go to a Renaissance fair then,” Richard said.
“I’m serious. Who are you?”
“You obviously didn’t heed my advice and leave Old World Tales.”
“I talked to Merle, yes,” Bran admitted. “He convinced me to stay, although he didn’t share much. He is more full of shit than that crazy Tee Goodkind down by the wharf. You know, the guy who believes he isn’t homele—”