Chapter I
"Inquisition"
Henrik put some hardcover books into a backpack – along with some cereal bars – grabbed his cell phone and the house key. Then opened the front door and left, getting outside to wait for Saladin.
After one last look inside the house, and again recalling the terrible contact with the spirits that possessed Henrik before, Saladin also gone. He descended the few steps in front of the entrance door and walked to where the boy was, at the same time looking at the street. There was something else that was new to him there, but in an uncomfortable way. The knight, embracing his own hest, soon realized he would have problems until getting used to: cold. A biting wind, icy, that made him shiver to the spine. Very different from the deserts of Palestine...
- Saladin, please hide your presence from prying eyes! – the boy said suddenly. – Do not want any attention.
Some people had their necks already stretched, casting puzzled looks on the figure of the Arabic man, but nothing too serious yet.
- Oh, sorry for the lapse, I'm still not used to, now I will always do this... – and, without more talk, the servant became invisible to everyone except Henrik.
The boy, angry, whispered angrily:
- OK. Do it. But next time, do so before leaving home. We were lucky that no one noticed... Come on.
He then began to walk.
Saladin was a little uncomfortable with the anger of the boy, but he remained silent, following him. As they walked, the Arab came to admire the architecture of the German city. The shape and structure of the houses and stores were, without doubt, very different from those of the ancient cities of the East. Besides the buildings, everything else seemed to intrigue him: objects, gadgets, clothes, people... Mostly people.
They were walking quiet trough the city, when an unexpected call interrupted the walk:
- HENRIK! EVIL JUSTIN BIEBER!
- WALTER, SON OF A BITCH! – that was the exasperated response from Saladin's master, looking back as he spoke those words.
The unknown boy author of the exclamation accelerated and was much bigger than Henrik. The strange did not have a friendly expression on his face. The servant, in turn, put his right hand on the sheath, ready to draw his scimitar if sensed danger to the life of his master...
The stranger was at full speed. By the time they would collide, Henrik hugged him. They laughed. A bit relieving...
- So how was the ritual? – the newcomer asked the master.
- More complicated than I expected, but in one way or another, it worked.
- Let's go to Sten's house, have a few drinks...
- Now I can't. I'm busy.
- Hey, making yourself difficult?
The said Walter, as Saladin assumed Henrik's friend as called, had tall body, endowed with muscles, very light skin and bald head. He wore simple clothes, but reminiscent in tone and composition of the other boy. A figure that could not avoid generating suspicion on the servant...
At the same time, the Arab knight asked himself about the referred "Justin Bieber" being some famous magus or something like it...
It was when Saladin realized... Walter's gaze was threatening to Henrik. This one, knowing his friend, knew that he usually came before the bad news. He could not be more right about that.
- Ah... – murmured the bald boy, hands in his pockets. – Okay, Henrik. I'm going with you.
Saladin did not appreciate at all the unknown young man, nor his decision to follow Henrik. It did not seem good, especially due to the servant willing to stay hidden. As they walked, the Arab asked the young wizard:
- Who is he? Are you sure this is a good idea?
- Walter, remember when we were children and we used to go to those woods? – ignoring the speech of his invisible servant, Henrik asked his friend. – Remember that I was scared at times?
- You always scares me, man. Why does your voice sound different?
- That ritual's fault.
- No kidding! You'll have to tell me more.
- You will know everything when we get into the woods.
They were walking relaxed. Henrik expected to answer Walter's questions, something very sinister becoming more and more present on his face...
Saladin, in turn, realized that he could not communicate with his master for some time; although he disapproved, and a lot, what happened. Quiet, continued to follow them. He hoped that the forest was not hiding anything nasty for them...
They reached the place without word. The atmosphere was heavy. The two boys were puzzled for some reason. Walter said all along the way that Henrik was different. The questioned boy remained impassive. The forest was great, and, oddly enough, empty. The joy was almost tactile on Walter's face. Henrik kept his serious tone. He walked into the place, which gradually complicated their ways and caused a few stumbles on them, as it was already dark.
At a certain moment they stopped, and the master, without warning, simply said:
- Reveal yourself, servant. Show your figure, my loyal Saber.
Saladin shook. What that boy could be thinking? All the discretion, the precautions... Now gone. And he could not disobey the order. The knight appeared in all his magnificence before the other guy, his hand still cautious over the sheath with the scimitar.
- Here I am...
Walter was stunned. That was different from all other invocations. Prana emanated in a very intense way. It was too alive. And it seemed also intelligent.
- W-W-What is this, man? – he stammered, amazed.
- You wanted to come here – Henrik replied, his tone sounding increasingly macabre. – Now it would be good if you keep quiet, he and I need to integrate as servant and master.
- A-a-alright. You need to teach me how to do this.
- If you do not shut up, you better leave.
- If I leave, you run the risk of being discovered here.
- And how many sane people would trust a drug addict and alcoholic skinhead?
Silence. Well... Henrik had a strong argument.
Even more troubled by the situation, Saladin decided to ask:
- Master, why did you revealed me to that person?
- Simple, right? It was necessary to shut him up. In fact, he helped me so far in many things. I can not be totally ungrateful and can not waste time as well. But let us prepare.
Henrik opened the backpack and grabbed one of the books, more specifically one with old cover and yellowing pages. Opening it on a particular page, closed his eyes as the environment became more and more gloomy...
Not quite understanding it, Saladin wondered if they would really attack the other boy. They would kill him that way, in cold blood? And was Henrik again preparing a spell that would cause those evil spirits to return to his body? In any case, the warrior still did not understand. And he feared everything.
- Master, I still do not understand – he protested. – What does this mean?
- It means that we will train, and Walter will watch. Now, please do not disturb my concentration.
The site and its surroundings became more and more dark. The waning moon in the sky became red, a deathly silence gripped the surroundings. In the background, tortured screams could be heard. The grass became gray. The whole atmosphere assumed a tone too heavy and clumsy, as if the evil contained in the bowels of the earth came to the surface and contaminate everything... The expression of dread on Walter was evident.
At least Henrik did not want to end his friend's life. Well, "he", himself, did not... But perhaps the spirits that appeared again on their way to control him yes. Stunned, Saladin maintained a defensive posture, a steady hand on the sheath and eyes shifting between his dark master, the astonished skinhead and the terrifying scenario that formed around them...
May Allah be with them.
The ground began to open, and thus created craters that not exuded a pleasant scent. It was possible to hear desperate cries, dying, coming from inside the holes. After some time, Saladin found himself close to the borders of those burned and deformed hands, some with exposed bones, trying to grab the land around in an apparent attempt to climb up.
That does not in any way please Saladin. It seemed that the depths of hell were really getting in connection with the Earth, opening a portal so their fearsome inhabitants could cross it. No longer able to contain himself, the knight drew his scimitar from his sheath, brandishing it in defense position and the jewel-encrusted handle shining like fire under the light generated by the craters. Then he asked, crying as he looked at his master:
- In the name of Allah, what is this?
The voice of his master was no longer the same. He cried in a horrifying tone:
- IN THE NAME OF SAMAEL AND LILITH, I CALL UPON YOU, SONS OF ADDICTION!
There were ashes, smelling of sulfur. Beings then appeared and burned with a threatening look from inside the cracks. Some had claws, other sharp teeth. They did not seem very happy. And laughed. Everyone laughed. A nervous laugh. Worthy of the most hideous beasts of the abyss.
- Okay, Saladin – the voice of Henrik went again in chorus. – They will be your dinner. They will serve to train us and increase your energy. Moreover, we need to get used to the realities of this plan, too.
No, Saladin could not accept that. Consume souls to increase his power, specially souls from humans lost in eternal damnation, was something that he could not handle. It went completely against his beliefs. Against its code of knighthood. Against everything he stood for. War, full of bloody battles, had taught him to respect other people's lives above everything else. And so he decided, with a firm and determined voice:
- I refuse, master. I can not do that.
- You want them to beg, Saber? – the possessed Henrik laughed. - They prefer to be part of you, that is pure, than to suffer they way they suffer. You will deny them that gift? Will deny them forgiveness?
The creatures seemed to consent, in their creeping numbness, in consideration to the master's words. And that was the thing that made the servant more horrified.
The Arab still could not conceive that. It was too strange, too ugly. But in fact, those souls, even if invoked by a dreadful spell, still had a glimpse of pureness and fair appeal. Saladin, however, found far more prudent to confirm:
- Show me proof of your purity, condemned to eternal damnation!
The creatures seemed to be intrigued. The master then shook his head in a negative tone:
- Don't you understand? Why do the evil that inhabits the depths would bother to hurt anyone that is from the same strain of it? Don't you see the sores and wounds on the bodies of these poor creatures? Do not see how they were tortured? Do not see that them, despite being threatened with punishment far worse than that, came here to meet our call? Came to receive forgiveness? Came to assist us winning this war?
"Victory in this war". That was the key word. After the previous dominance of Henrik by those evil spirits, and now in face of such awkward prodigy, Saladin did not yet know well who he was serving. He saw the wounds, he saw the suffering of those beings, but it was of no use to serve the evil purpose of those who enslaved them. Lilith, the demon. Samael, vile angel. Both representatives of the darkest evil hordes of hell. Saladin could not give in before being sure. He would never serve something so vile, if it was really that way!
- Grant victory to whom? – asked the knight in a severe tone. – To my master, the boy Henrik, or that collusion of evil entities that manifest their wishes through his body?
- Is that really matters, Saber, if your wish will also be granted? That really matters? It is very unlikely that you'll return to this reality after the war. It's so important to you to know more about this insignificance then fulfilling your wish? Is it so important to know who will have the prize?
- Yes, it is!
Saying that, Saladin pointed his sword to his master in a hostile and challenging attitude. Without even blinking, convinced of what he was doing, he exclaimed:
- I will not serve any demon of the abyss that want to corrupt the Grail and the body of a poor child! My wish is far less important than my honor and the principles I believe! If this continues, I will be obliged to make use of my sword against such villainy!
A laugh came from the teenager's body in several different tones. He then said:
- Why have you turned into this perverted aberration from the will of your god? Something as profane as a desecration of a natural law? You should have been dead for centuries, the hero of Egypt and scourge of his own god. You would embarrass your people if they knew about this disgrace. What do you know about the nature of the Grail? Nothing, right? You still have made a pact with him. You are the scum of your own values.
Words from the entities of the depths could shake a common listener. But not Saladin. That inhuman scum could try to insult him, take away his courage, but was only increasing his conviction. The mention on the Grail could very well be a bluff, but Saladin preferred to discover the truth alone, not through that spirits. On that moment he had only one certainty: he had to immobilize the possessed Henrik, putting he to sleep somehow and banishing those beings of darkness back to their dimension of origin. Trusting in Allah and his kind blessings, he threw himself against the boy with his scimitar, raising a cry from his throat:
- I expel you out of here, foul demons!
This was followed by a sudden gust of wind, an abysmal and devilish sound, and the dismissal of the chorus:
- See you later, Saladin.
The environment was back to normal suddenly and quickly. Henrik hit the ground. Walter was no longer present – the moment he escaped being completely ignored. But one thing had remained...
Deformed beings, gray, stunted, with deformed skulls and possessing remnants of what they had once been: human faces capable of expressing feelings... Raised their arms in a supplicant way, trying to grab some kind of tangible hope...
The crater and the creatures were still there.
Tired, weapon still in his hand and ready to be used, Saladin looked at those morbid beings. Shapeless, dark, thirsty. Before rescuing Henrik, saw that it was of utmost urgency to do something for those poor souls. He threw himself down, falling on his stomach. And in a loud and supplicant voice, pleaded:
- Oh Allah, guide these poor spirits away from eternal punishment. They have suffered enough, and now crave redemption. Show them the light, faith, and Heaven!
A sudden light broke trough the sky, as if the sun shone stronger for a few seconds. The creatures were broken one by one, turning into ashes, their reduced mouths showing something like smiles before no longer existing. Henrik seemed unconscious. Saladin felt as if his stamina and willpower were increasing as those tortured beings were falling apart...
Now more calm and at peace, the knight got up from the ground slowly, watching as the last bodies present there vanished. At least they had found eternal rest. It would still have to be checked what had happened with Henrik's friend, but that could wait till later. Saladin ran to his master and took him on his arms, then trying to wake him up with mild jolts:
- Henrik! Henrik!
Inert. The servant could feel a large amount of prana emanating from him, much larger than other times and much more dense. It was possible to hear, also, screams at distance.
Stunned, Saladin looked in the direction of the cries... And he faced an unusual scene – to tell the minimum.
As if emerged from nothing, perhaps invoked just as he was, six people were standing nearby on the lawn. Five of them were men wearing black cloak and hood, as if belonging to some kind of sect, making up only one exception: a guy having his body and features hidden by a red robe. With grim and angry faces, eyes wide open and lips retracted, they formed a circle around a sixth character: a woman wearing a torn white tunic, brown hair caught in a ponytail behind her head... And an incredible suffering expression on her face. The others were torturing her… Pulling chains linked to different parts of her body, including some very sensitive areas such as breasts and fingers, each one of the executioners pulling to one side, as with the intention of ripping her body apart.
The situation worsened immediately after seeing to improve. Henrik looked well, but unconscious. Maybe he would wake up soon – without needing more intense treatment. But the girl in the middle of the cloaked circle did. Gazing into the vile hooded figures, Saladin wondered which could be the motive of such cruelty and savagery. Pure sadism? Maybe. With his chest firm, a serious expression on his face, the Arabic warrior began to walk toward the aggressors, scimitar on his right hand. At a shorter distance, he shouted:
- Why all this evil?
- Hey, trouble, guys! Run, run! – exclaimed one of the hooded ones, nervous.
Everyone began to run, each one at a different direction, including the tortured girl. And all of them soon disappeared from the sight of the servant. He, without understanding anything, remained a moment motionless, on guard, awaiting the possible return of some of those mysterious characters. Seeing that they had actually moved away, he decided to think about that later and then turned his attention back to Henrik, checking if he had already waked up...
Tears of blood poured over the face of the boy now... As if he were incredibly distressed, crying bitterly, but was still unconscious. It could be heard, at the same time, the approaching footsteps of people coming from the forest entrance.
Saladin quickly hid himself in his spiritual form, bending down beside the boy. Using his keen hearing, found out that the approaching strangers were still far away. He had to take his master away. Putting Henrik on his arms, the Knight of Egypt ran deeply into a well wooded area at south of the park. If he could not find an alternative exit, at least he could hide there with the boy now, while trying to make him regain consciousness – before the strangers left…
The servant came to a point where there weren't forest trails. It was possible to hear the sounds of some birds, small animals and insects. More calm, Saladin slowly put the body of Henrik on the grass, looking at his face... And seeing crimson eyes. Blood-stained countenance. Dry mouth and very pale skin. The servant shook the boy and called him again, hoping to wake him up:
- Henrik, Henrik!
The boy moved his eyes. He appeared to be too weak to speak. The Arab knight whispered:
- Do not speak, my master. Spare your forces.
Praying to Allah, Saladin sought divine protection and clarity of thought to try to think about the best way around that situation. Animals such as squirrels and birds began to gather at a certain distance around the two. They seemed curious about those unexpected elements so deep in the woods. The servant heard footsteps louder. People were getting close.
- Hadashay'unJameel! – Saladin murmured in an ironic tone.
And with a frown, he took Henrik on his arms again, leading him to the opposite direction to the approaching footsteps...
Then he also heard strong footsteps on the other side. They were surrounded.
- Damn it...
Putting himself in deep prayer to Allah, sweating, Saladin begged to his god for a glimpse of what could be done in such a situation...
And then, almost in a flash, he could see Walter, the skinhead, with a baseball bat on his hand, followed by a group of other teens wearing spikes and carrying chains or other bats. All that apparatus was unknown to the servant, but it was very threatening by the mere appearance.
The group apparently did not notice Saladin nor Henrik. The servant stood on guard, just watching...
The attackers passed, without noticing any one of the two. It was possible to see the sky clearing with the first sunbeams of the morning. Saladin did not quite understand what had happened. They would not have seen him because he was on his spiritual form, but what about Henrik? And what would have happened to Walter for him to disappear and then reappearing again, with minions?
The knight decided to try to understand all this later. By the moment, he only tried to take Henrik again on his arms... And saw that he was finally awake. Smiling maniacally. He had deep marks on his eyes. Marks that emanated a dense energy.
- Let's go, my saber, the day already begun – he spoke as if nothing had happened.
The knight became increasingly confused:
- But my master, what happened? Can you explain?
Henrik could barely stand up, but continued to speak:
- All in good time, honorable Saber. Take me home, piously.
Saladin tried to raise the boy on hiss arms again, asking whether he could or could not do it... And, at this time, could easily do so. Relieved, the Arabic began to walk with care and attention with the master on his arms, towards the exit he still remembered. It was soon seen. No living soul was found on the edge of the woods. Saladin deduced that the time was around six o'clock in the morning. A new day was really beginning.
The Arab man remembered that he needed to turn toward the sacred Mecca to beg for the blessings of his lord on one more day, mainly thanking him for all the aid already provided, but first had to bring his master to his house. Taking advantage of not being seen by anyone carrying Henrik, Saladin followed to the park gate, heading toward the street. He thought about entering his spiritual form, and soon had an idea that could contribute to their discretion: putting his master standing up, backed him on his shoulders and went invisible, trying to shove him and sustain him quietly as he walked. So people on the streets would not be surprised nor with an Arab man wearing traditional battle clothes, nor with the body of a boy being carried by a mysterious entity that could not be seen. It was likely they would look to the unfortunate boy and assume that, having too much wine, he was now stumbling back to his home...
Saladin and Henrik arrived home after some time. The door was locked, and the young man was sleeping again. The servant looked around carefully, looking for an open window... Turning around the residence, the servant soon found the back window that, as it seemed, was never kept closed.
Cautious, trying not to make noise and still carrying Henrik standing, as the boy walked alone, Saladin took him to the said opening, leaned over the railing, and put him sitting carefully on the inside, only entering after that. By doing so, Saladin met something unexpected. He heard a female voice and male one in the room near the bedroom. Probably were the parents of his master.
- Damn... – the servant murmured. – Just as I suspected...
Careful and trying to make as much silence as possible, Saladin, keeping his spiritual form, carefully laid Henrik on the bed and sat next to a corner of the room – quiet, waiting.
The boy's parents, when hearing the noise at their son's bedroom, soon entered it. They halted, however, in front of the closed door. There was a brief discussion about what they should do with him, their muffled voices a little high. The woman then asked her husband to go rest of the upcoming trip. As soon he left, Saladin could hear the woman say, soon after entering the room:
- Reveal yourself, spirit.
Saladin's eyes widened. He was not expecting that, even though he previously suspected a bit before. After all, magi usually descended from long heredities and it would be at least strange if there weren't any other spell caster in Henrik's family. Quiet and serene, the knight changed his form, revealing his presence:
- Here I am.
- My name is Silk Schwartz, mother of Henrik Schwartz and exorcist of the Catholic Church – the woman with short black hair and imposing Germanic presence showed no ceremonies. – I am also a supervisor of the First World Holy Grail War, designated to this position by the Magic Association. I'll follow you to Munich tomorrow. Henrik should not suspect anything, much less my husband.
The woman then showed a crucifix she was hiding on her garments until then. There was no doubt: she belonged to the clergy and would be an arbiter on the conflict between magi.
That was at least unexpected. In front of the Christian symbol, Saladin felt the in woman the same determination that he previously saw on the Crusader Monarchs who he fought against in the past. Then Henrik's mother was a supervisor of the masters at war and also a church leader. Saladin thought that would be rather complicated to answer her request about her remaining "incognito", especially for Henrik. The possibility of Saladin being defeated and the young man then losing his servant existed; and if that happened, he would eventually discover that his mother was the arbiter of that conflagration. It was a rule that he would go to her to not to be killed by the other masters – and Silk, certainly, besides fulfilling her role as a supervisor, would act with greater determination to protect the boy, due to her maternal instinct.
- It seems to me that you've been hiding many things from your child ... – the knight began to speak, after looking again to Henrik and make sure he slept. – I don't know if it was your intention or not to keep him away from all this, madam, but he is now involved in this war and I will be his sword towards the Chalice. I'll keep your presence in our wake and your real function on this conflict hidden from the boy if you wish, but there are several questions that I demand to redress. First, I wonder about the term "Great War", which you used to refer to this dispute. Being a heroic spirit invoked by a magus, I can not remember my possible participation in those previous wars, but I wonder if this one differs somehow from the other ones. And, as you mentioned being an exorcist... I imagine that maybe should be familiar to you that your child is being molested by creatures of darkness, impure demons of the underworld that dominate him whenever he tries to use magic. Are you aware of this situation? Did or intend to do something to rid him of this painful condition?
The woman took a deep breath and answered:
- There is only one thing I will clarify to you: this war is one of global proportions. There are now masters of the whole world struggling to get the Grail. And this battle is not just between seven servants, nor to grant only a single wish. About my son, I believe that this only concerns me.
Things were taking an increasingly unpredictable way. Gazing deeply into the woman's eyes, Saladin felt hardness in her character that was only partially demonstrated on her words. She seemed hard as a rock, and in front of that the Arab knight wondered if the demons that were possessing Henrik had any relation to her. Did that woman really had something to do with the boy's misfortune? Could she somehow be... the cause?
- I understand – the servant nodded. – If this war is so big, so I'll keep my loyal scimitar and my senses always alert and ready to protect my master and defeat his enemies. I'm waiting for our departure to Munich, but at least I would like to know if that sleep is beneficial to my master, and if there is any indication of when he will awake...
- If you let me get near him, I can make him get back to normal and the natural way to relax, not fighting himself... – the boy's mother said with some weariness.
- Right... – the Arabic warrior sighed, moving away from the bed and watching.
Silk knelt in front of the bed and touched the forehead of her son. Henrik changed his facial expression instantly, starting to rest calm. Rising up, the exorcist turned to the servant and said:
- Well, we'll leave tomorrow. He'll sleep all day today.
- Okay... – Saladin muttered somewhat annoyed, but holding back because of the circumstances.
He would not give up getting the answers he wanted.
- I have to go to meet my husband – the woman said, moving towards the door. – I wish you luck, Saber.
- Thank you, ma'am. Allah Akbar!
She left, leaving Saladin and his master alone.